《Charon's Touch》 01 - The End of the Old ¡°Why so glum?¡± the question shook Sam out of his mindless self-reflecting and brought up his eyes to once again gaze upon the individual standing across from him. The person wore the blackest of robes, which looked rather heavy, and seemed to hang loosely from a crooked and stooped over frame. A large hood covered the persons head and face, leaving no clue as to who or what they were. The person¡¯s arms were always moving. They held a pole which was continuously being placed into the inky black water beside a rickety wooden boat which the person was standing on, and who Sam was sat opposite. The pole made the barest of sounds as it was gently pushed into the water, before gracefully thrust backwards in a manner that seemed to gracefully push forward their little boat. Sam could not be entirely sure they were moving however, as no reference points could be seen on the horizon. The boat seemed to rest on a calm lake, on a night with no stars, seen with a light with no source. Sam could not remember how he got onto the boat. One moment he was... somewhere, and then he was here. It was as though he had awoken here from a heavy night¡¯s sleep, but could not remember going to bed. He had cowered in fright at the person opposite, he had asked, then shouted and demanded to find out where he was, but the figure in front of him had not uttered a single word, simply pushing them both gently forward, to a destination unknown. But now he spoke. Had asked Sam a question even. ¡°Why so glum?¡± the figure in front repeated, with utter calm and a curiously faint voice. ¡°What?¡± Sam blurted out before continuing, ¡°Why am I glum? Perhaps it has to do with me being kidnapped by whoever the fuck you are!¡± Sam¡¯s voice rose until he was shouting again. ¡°Who the fuck are you and where the fuck am I?¡± Sam demanded, though his voice had an edge of panic to it that slightly undermined this demand, turning it more into a rather loud and desperate plea. The figure did not reply, it simply continued its gentle movements, pushing them both onwards. ¡°Why won¡¯t you answer me?¡± Sam begged, abandoning any attempt at demanding anything from this person, as his voice became quiet and reeked of desperation. ¡°You already know these answers.¡± Came a gentle reply. ¡°My words would have no purpose, nor effect.¡± ¡°Instead, tell me who you know me to be. Tell me also where you are.¡± Sam looked at the figure silently; he glanced around for some sort of escape and found none. He let out a shaky breath as he returned his gaze to the person in front of him, before answering. ¡°You are death... and I am... on a boat.¡± Sam blurted out, looking again at the water surrounding them. ¡°Correct.¡± Death responded, ¡°More specifically you are on the river, the eternal river, the place where all sentients¡¯ are destined to traverse from the beginning of creation until the shattering of time and the ruination of space... though you are indeed on a boat. ¡°My boat.¡± Silence returned as Sam blankly stared at the figure in front of him. Death said nothing more, simply continuing to punt in a slow and methodical way. ¡°I... I don¡¯t know what that means... What any of it means¡± Sam stuttered before looking down at his feet. ¡°How can I be dead?¡± He asked himself quietly. ¡°You¡¯re only dead, it happens to everyone sooner or later.¡± The quiet voice spoke bluntly. ¡°Why so glum?¡± ¡°Why so glum?!¡± Sam replied rhetorically, glancing up angrily ¡°I¡¯m dead! Why do you think I would be happy about that?¡± Death sighed. ¡°You humans have gotten so miserable recently. You used to greet me with open arms, welcome me as the inevitable end, even paid me for the trouble of ferrying your souls!¡± Death ranted. ¡°I used to look forward to meeting you, always had interesting tales to tell. Now all you tell me is how much fun you find staring at a small glass box...¡± Sam instinctively reached into his pocket to find his phone, feeling relieved as he felt its reassuring form between his fingers. Sam¡¯s eyes widened, he still had his phone! Eagerly he pulled it out of his pocket and gazed at the screen. ¡®Damn!¡¯ he thought, ¡®No bars!¡¯ ¡°Hmph!¡± he heard Death exclaim, before the precious was knocked out of his hand by a hard object, sending the phone flying over the side of the boat. Sam¡¯s head spun around just in time to see it plop into the water with a small splash. It was gone. Sam¡¯s mouth lay open in shock, his emotions falling from happy to devastated in an instant, then to slow burning rage as he glared over at Death, who had returned his pole to the water and was nonchalantly punting away. ¡°Why on earth did you do that?!¡± Sam demanded angrily. ¡°We are not on ¡®Earth¡¯ and you already know why.¡± Death replied smugly. Sam did nothing but grind his teeth as he tried to calm down. ¡°How did I even have it here with me anyway?¡± Sam asked suddenly. ¡°Has Huawei opened up a branch in the beyond as well?¡± ¡°Erm no...¡± Death replied, unsure of any sarcasm which might possibly have happened. ¡°You were probably buried with the damned thing. Or at least had it on your person when your soul moved on, and were unwilling to leave it behind for one reason or another. I remember a time when you humans would bring things like swords and tools that really mattered with you. Not so long ago it was...¡± Sam mentally blanked out the ramblings as his fragile psyche struggled to get past the part about him being buried. There was a part of him that did wonder though, if he passed over with his phone, is there anything else he might have brought with him? Reaching his hands into both his pockets, he began to rummage round. ¡®Keys!¡¯ he mentally exclaimed feeling the sharp metal edges with his fingertips. ¡®Never leave home without them!¡¯ ¡®What else... my wallet is missing, is that a paperclip, and a tissue? Also a penny? What kind of burial did I have?¡¯ Sam wondered. He looked up at Death whom had stopped his rambling when he noticed Sam was no longer listening. ¡°Do... Do you know where I was buried? Were my family there?¡± Sam asked hesitatingly. Death''s arms, which moved the pole, paused ever so slightly. In that moment Sam felt an intense feeling that he was being watched, as though there was some sort of omniscient presence that blanketed him. Then the moment passed and the feeling with it. ¡°I¡¯m not sure you were buried properly.¡± Death replied, ¡°At least judging from your attire.¡± Sam looked down and saw he was in jeans and a red shirt. ¡®No not a red shirt...¡¯ Sam realised. ¡®A white shirt turned red...¡¯ He saw a hole in his shirt and in his chest. He saw a red stream. A bullet. A flash. A gun. Sam gasped and grabbed his head, shaking it until the colour of red was drained from his vision. He looked down at his chest again and at his... clean white shirt. Sam raised his eyes to Death, who said nothing, continuing his endless pull, push and thrust. Silence governed the little boat as Sam absorbed what he had seen. ¡°So do you have any stories?¡± The quiet voice enquired, breaking the silence which had lasted for a few minutes, or days. ¡°Stories?¡± Sam repeated, snapping out of his thoughts. ¡°What Stories?¡± ¡°Your life stories!¡± Death said, as if it was obvious. ¡°What exciting things have you done with your life? What achievements have you made? What challenges have you conquered?¡± Death asked, some anticipation bleeding into his calm and quiet voice. ¡°Achievements? Challenges?¡± Sam parroted Death, before suddenly becoming flustered. ¡°Well I haven¡¯t really... erm... well...¡± he mumbled. Death said nothing, as though still expecting an answer. ¡°Well... I err... my teacher always said I was her best ever student...¡± Sam said, trying to sound proud, thinking it best not to mention he was home schooled and an only child. Even in his ears it sounded hollow. ¡°I also... err... was made employee of the month at my job!¡± Sam continued. It still counted right? Even if he was the only other worker employed at his uncles liquor store. Death still said nothing, though somehow Sam felt that this silence had an air of judgement about it. Sam sighed, letting go of his bullshit and his fear. ¡°I was nobody.¡± Sam confessed, staring out into the lake as he reminisced about his crappy life. ¡°I don¡¯t have... didn¡¯t have, any friends. I grew up alone with my mother in the middle of fucking nowhere. I have no qualifications and had no money to go places. The only job I could get was working for my crazy useless Uncle, and he only hired me because my mom begged him to...¡± ¡°You were happy with your lot?¡± Death asked in Sam¡¯s pause.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Hell no!¡± Sam exclaimed. ¡°I only took that job so I could get out, so I could make something of myself someday. I was going to take all the money I made and go on a course, get a better job. A better life. For me and my mom, away from all the shit that piled up and held us down. ¡°Now it¡¯s all pointless. All that effort was meaningless, it didn¡¯t change anything. And I¡¯m dead. Dead before I could even get started on where I wanted to be.¡± Sam held his hands tight against his eyes, trying to ignore the sick feeling of loss that engulfed his stomach. ¡°But you are right.¡± Sam said, wiping his eyes and once more gazing out across the surface of the water. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter anymore.¡± Death was silent. ¡°Hey, what is that light?¡± Sam asked. As he looked across the river¡¯s surface he could see an eerie glow coming from a patch of water far in the distance. ¡°It is the aurora, the portal that separates the living realms from the dead.¡± Death replied. ¡°A soul is passing.¡± Sam leaned over to get a better look, he thought he might have seen some sort of mist rise from the water, but that was it before the light began to fade. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you ferrying that soul as well?¡± Sam asked. ¡°Maybe I did and you just couldn¡¯t see?¡± Death replied cryptically. ¡°Not all sentients are as slow as you humans... or take up as much of my time...¡± Death complained silently, though Sam detected a hint of genuine annoyance in his voice. Sam put his hands in his pockets and subconsciously tried to make himself smaller in front of Death. His fingers brushed against the hard edge of the penny in his pocket and he drew it out to have a look at it further. It was unremarkable, some spare change from some long forgotten transaction. It meant nothing to him, apart of course, from the realisation that of all the money he had scraped and saved over the years, all that he had left at this point was a single penny. He looked up towards Death and held out the penny in his hand. ¡°It¡¯s not much.¡± Sam stated. ¡°But is this enough to pay my fare?¡± Death paused in his movements. He bent over and seemed to... sniff, the coin? Creaking, Death unhooked one of his hands from the pole he carried and held it out to receive the penny. Sam blanched as he saw the skeletal hand reach towards him and hover next to his own. Quickly Sam tipped the coin into the bone hand, letting out a small chirp as his little finger brushed one of the bones. He quickly drew his hand back and wiped it thoroughly on his trousers. Death ignored Sam as he drew the hand with the coin towards himself and under his hood. A moment passed before the faint sound of chomping and grinding could be heard, accompanied by a sloppy mushy sound as though someone was squashing a slug into their own eye before swallowing both. Once the horrible sound finished, Death returned his hand to the pole and without a single word began to again punt his little boat onward. Sam closed his half open mouth and tried to wipe the disgust off his face, thinking he could have kept the penny and spared his ears a final nightmare. ¡°I don¡¯t have any more¡± Sam mentioned to Death, ¡°Sorry...¡± He was not sorry. ¡°It was enough.¡± Death replied quietly. A silence governed the boat afterwards. Death continued to make slow methodical movements, whilst Sam returned to a period of self-reflection as he tried to adjust to his new circumstances. Even with rapt attention however, Sam would not have noticed the incredibly minor course change their boat made as Death shifted its direction ever so slightly. * There was a light on the horizon. This was not like those other lights, the ones in the water, no this light was coming from slightly above it. Their boat was headed straight towards it! ¡°What is that?¡± Sam asked frantically, fearful of any change in his new unlife. ¡°Will we pass it by?¡± Death remained silent. ¡°Seriously, what is it?¡± Sam asked again, unsure why Death did not give any response. ¡°Where are you taking me?!¡± Sam half shouted. Death remained silent. Sam looked around the boat, there was nothing in it that he could use or gain inspiration from, just the hard wooden seat he currently perched on. ¡®Why is he quiet?¡¯ Sam asked himself, his mind racing, ¡®he was so chatty earlier...¡¯ ¡®...after he essentially told me he wouldn¡¯t answer questions he thought I already knew.¡¯ ¡®I already know this question... we are on a boat... we are moving, going somewhere... and that¡¯ Sam turned his head towards the light. ¡®... is our destination.¡¯ ¡°What is it like?¡± Sam asked, staring as the light on the horizon started to get bigger. ¡°It¡¯s not bad at all. I am told it is quite a serene place.¡± Death replied. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about anything or anyone, you won¡¯t have any needs and so there is nothing for you to take care of. ¡°An eternity of bliss, filled with positivity. A safe space of everlasting peace and tranquillity.¡± Sam was forced to blink several times to clear his head of the flowery language. ¡°But...¡± Sam responded. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that get boring after a while? What is there to do?¡± ¡°Not really anything.¡± Death answered. ¡°You won¡¯t mind that though, not once you have had your memory wiped.¡± Sam¡¯s face drained of colour and became as white as the dead man he was supposed to be. ¡°What?!¡± he spluttered, ¡°How... why would my memory be wiped?! What?!¡± Sam began to feel sick at the revelation he was essentially about to be obliterated. His memories, the thing that kept him who he was, was about to be lost. Sam stood up suddenly, causing the boat to rock. He once again looked around, searching for something that could help him, anything that could help him. There was nothing. Death had not even stopped his work and even though he wanted to, some instinct warned Sam not to try and grab the pole. Dire consequences and what not. In a thoroughly panicked state, Sam almost yelped when a gentle glow seemed to surround the boat. ¡®I¡¯m there¡¯ he thought, ¡®this is the end!... but the light... it¡¯s still in the distance.¡¯ Confused Sam looked around once again, this time in the waters beside the boat. The water was glowing, a thin mist arose from its surface and with wide eyes, Sam stared at the sight beneath him. Past the shimmering green light he could see... clouds? A night¡¯s sky seen from above? Sam spun around to face death once more, but said nothing, nor did Death. He spun back around once more and looked at the light in the distance. With only a moment¡¯s hesitation Sam leaped to his side, off the boat and plunged into the cool glowing water. Unlike regular water however, where he would have immediately bobbed to the surface, Sam was instead dragged under by some sort of current. What seemed like a calm lazy river swiftly became a roaring tunnel. To his sides the aurora seemed to pulsate in their glowing as he was funnelled downwards, falling along a thin line of mist which strangely existed under the water, seeming to rise as he was falling. Sam began to feel a strange sensation cover his entire body; it was a prickling, tingling feeling. Not painful but not exactly pleasant either. Sam felt himself uncontrollably shiver as something very odd was happening. A flash of white flew past his face, and Sam looked backwards just in time to see part of his shirt disappear into the darkness above him. He looked down at himself and saw the rest of his clothes begin to fall apart as well. It was as if they were dissolving, breaking up and disappearing before his very eyes... Not just his clothes Sam realised with horror. His skin was beginning to shed as well. Sam screamed and tried desperately to swim upwards, however whatever strange current he was in continued to pull him down, even as he saw the rest of his clothes... skin... and body floating freely to the surface. Sam was no longer screaming, he no longer had the ability to. He was not sure he even had eyes any more, though strangely he could still see. He continued to fall. Sam was unsure if he was even getting dragged through water any more, instead he felt like he was falling. The green lights of the aurora disappeared and the only thing the being that was Sam could see was the mist he was falling against, as well as the clouds and world that had opened up beneath him. * ¡°Dammit Death what did you do? Did he bribe, you? I thought humans from earth had stopped doing that.¡± Death raised his head from gazing into the water and stared at an individual made of stunning golden light that was floating in front of his boat. A pair of ethereal and blinding white wings kept the individual above the water; however a dark frown offset the angel¡¯s majestic visage. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything.¡± Death replied, ¡°He jumped.¡± ¡°And you just happened to steer right next to a portal just as it was opening?¡± The angel replied in a disappointed tone. ¡°What was taking you so long as well? Wasn¡¯t that just a simple human?¡± ¡°A very simple human¡± Death muttered. ¡°Oh well, accidents happen.¡± he said louder to the angel, and began to steer his boat around. The angel waved his hand from side to side in front of him, causing a strange mirror like substance to appear in the air of which a voice originated. ¡°You won¡¯t mind that though, not once you have had your memory wiped.¡± The angel covered his face with both hands as the mirror disappeared. ¡°In the name of god, why did you scare that human with lies? He was bound for Heaven and paradise and you condemn him to more pain and suffering.¡± ¡°He wasn¡¯t done yet, and it is where he needed to go¡± Death said, punting back the way he had come, ignoring the angel that was now behind him. ¡°But he is from Earth. The world you condemned him to is governed by the construct. He would likely not survive a day... why did you send him there?¡± Death paused as his boat came to a gradual stop. Turning towards the angel he lifted his hood slightly, showing the bleached bone of a skull with its ever present grin, of which small shards of copper penny could still be seen lodged between several teeth. * Sam¡¯s fall seemed to speed up once he dropped below the clouds, there was barely enough time to see the archaic stone and wooden houses which covered the area beneath him, nor the thick walls which bordered them all. He had a quick view of a very fast approaching alley and a slumped over man, lying in a ditch beside one of the houses, before he slammed straight into the man¡¯s body, his sight instantly turning black. The impact which Sam expected never happened. His heart was still beating awfully fast in preparation though. It beat solidly in his chest, a strong steady thump, reminding him he was alive. ¡®Hold on¡¯ thought Sam, ¡®but I¡¯m dead... dreaming?¡¯ Sam struggles to open his eyes, but they would not respond. A familiar tingling began to erupt outward from Sam¡¯s now beating heart. It spread through his chest, out into his arms and down into his legs. With it came feelings, as everywhere the tingle passed through sent messages dutifully back to his core, letting him know it was very cold, and he hurt from resting against a hard surface. The feeling spread upwards to his head, reaching his mouth Sam was able to open it and gasp. He sucked in all the air he could manage, relishing in the feeling. After a few breaths, Sam was able to twitch his left arm. After a couple more, he was able to move his hands to his face, each movement causing a rush of sensation as it felt like he was being stuck with hundreds of pins. Sam welcomed it. Moments later, Sam had managed to sit up and raised his head as the tingling finally reached his eyes. He saw flashes of white, a multitude of colours in all shapes before it all began to fade to black once more. It was not a complete black however. As Sam¡¯s eyes rose to the heavens, he could see thousands of stars in the night¡¯s sky, the sight of each one causing a torrent of emotion to overwhelm him as he felt alive. Truly alive.
You are no longer dead!
¡°?!?¡± 02 - New Bearings
You are no longer dead!
Instead of the stars, Sam saw in front of him a glowing blue box containing words and even punctuation. Looking both left and right, Sam instinctually tried to shake the box from his sight, however unlike a physical sign that could be looked around; the box remained in the forefront of his vision, similar to an after image from a very bright light. Reaching out, Sam attempted to swat the box away. His hand however, travelled straight through, leaving it unchanged as it showed no reaction to him. The blue box disappeared... and then returned, though the words were different.
Relinking soul with body... relinking... rel1nk1ng... r@L1nk... ERROR. FORIEGN SOUL DETECTED. RECONFIGURING!
Opening his mouth, Sam was about to exclaim to his surroundings how odd this blue phenomena was, when he was overcome by a sudden bout of nausea and stomach pain. Grabbing his stomach, he leaned sideways and proceeded to spew out a horrid mass brown onto the cold hard floor he was sitting on. The blue box remained unchanged, and if it was sentient, did not appear to be offended at having Sam vomit through it. Nor did it react to the black and red specs from the hacking cough that followed. In a thoroughly miserable existence, Sam could not stop himself from sinking into the mess that he had just made, as he curled into the foetal position on the floor, begging for his torment to stop. To go away.
Reconfiguration Complete. Rebooting.
Sam winced as he saw a bright flash and felt a small electric shock between his eyes, as though he had walked straight into a fly zapper. A couple of seconds after this, his pain began to ebb, as did his nausea. A few minutes wait later and he managed to sit back up.
Welcome to the realm of Vaelen. You have NO NAME. You have NO CLASS.
¡°Bit rude...¡± Sam thought in a daze.
Please proceed to your preferred temple to complete your reconfigurement.
The box then disappeared from view and Sam was left alone in his pile of muck. ¡°What. The. Fuck.¡± Sam exclaimed as he looked around. No more boxes appeared in his vision and all he could see was the dark alley around him. Unsure what to do, Sam did nothing. His brain was spending most of its power trying to process what had happened to it, leaving the rest of Sam somewhat catatonic. The next sensation Sam could remember feeling was a cold breeze flowing around his neck, which made him instinctively hunker down to try and get some shelter. This was enough to snap him back to reality, as rather than the slightly warmer feeling he was instinctively hoping for, he instead got to feel the moist dampness of his clothes which had soaked up part of the mess he was still sitting in. Utilising this disgust, Sam found the motivation to slowly roll over onto his knees and feet before shakily standing. He took several steps forward across the alley and held his hand out to brace himself against the cold stone wall opposite. Turning around, and with the help of the moonlight, Sam could just about see the spot he had been previously resting. There was a dark outline on the floor, not far from some square looking shapes, maybe crates, stacked beside the wall. Taking a lungful of the cold night air, Sam continued to scan his immediate surroundings and looked up and down the alley. To his right, the alley seemed to get darker as the walls became narrower a short distance away, cutting off what little moonlight could find its way between the buildings. To his left the alley continued on for perhaps another ten meters before opening out onto a street. Its walls were much further apart than the narrow passageway he currently stood in. There was also a hint of colour, a slight orange flicker. ¡®Ok...what now...¡¯ Sam thought to himself, unsure of exactly what he should be doing. He hadn¡¯t received any kind of manual when he fell out of the sky. He was unsure what exactly his purpose was, now that he had dropped into someone else¡¯s body on a foreign world. The thought he currently inhabited someone else¡¯s flesh suit sent a shiver down his spine, completely unrelated to the cold. The idea just felt wrong in his mind and he felt flustered being in a strange place without even the comfort of his own body. Using one of the hands that was available, he gently touched his forearm. He hoped to find a rough area about two inches long, a scar from when he rode a new bike into a fence on his eleventh birthday. There was no scar however, and though he hadn¡¯t really been expecting to find one, he still felt disappointed. ¡°Ok focus... focus¡± Sam said to himself out loud, as he shook both his hands and head to try and dispel the weird thoughts and rising panic going through his mind. He took slow steady breaths as he put his back to the wall and slowly slid down until he was sitting again. ¡°This is ridiculous!¡± He thought to himself ¡°A new lease on life! I am alive!... Oh god seriously what the actual fuck!¡± Sam¡¯s breathing intensified as he fell straight into a full blown panic attack, trying and failing to break himself free. The logical part of his mind found the experience quite novel, even as it tried reasoning with itself to stop this silly behaviour. He had never had one of these before, though admittedly he had never really had anything remotely traumatic happen to him either. At least until he was murdered in his past life. The thought of his murder was oddly enough what calmed him down. He was murdered. He had met death and cheated him by jumping into that portal. ¡®Not oblivion for Sam, no no, he got to live on. Lucky him.¡¯ This raised the question for Sam however, of what exactly was his next step? The decision to jump off Death¡¯s boat was not so much thought out, as it was a moment of panicked spontaneity. It had not even happened that long ago, but he still admonished his younger self for such a rash decision. What if there was no portal? What if he simply fell and kept falling for all eternity?This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. That didn¡¯t happen though; instead he was sat in an alley, in the dark, on an alien planet. Not to mention that weird blue box that appeared out of nowhere.
Please proceed to your preferred temple to complete your reconfigurement.
¡°Jesus!¡± Sam exclaimed, trying to dodge back and hitting his head on the stone wall behind him. ¡°Go away!¡± he half yelled, swiping at the box. Again, his hand passed straight through, however the box disappeared again soon after anyway. ¡°Ok... Ok... let¡¯s think about this.¡± Sam mumbled to himself, steadying his breathing. ¡°Boxes appearing out of the air, telling me things. Giving information. Pop up boxes? Was he in VR?¡± Sam had played enough games to see a similarity with the blue box and the UI of some of the video games that he had played at his spoilt cousin¡¯s house. ¡°Log out!¡± he spoke aloud, directing his voice to the world. ¡°Log out!¡± he repeated when nothing happened. When that still didn¡¯t work, Sam tried grasping around his eyes and head, trying to lift off a headset that wasn¡¯t there. Giving up after a whole minute of looking utterly ridiculous, Sam concluded that unless his brain was jacked into the Matrix, he probably wasn¡¯t playing a VR game. His thoughts returned to the pop up boxes and immediately after thinking about them:
Please proceed to your preferred temple to complete your reconfigurement.
There it was again. Sam read the message and a couple of seconds after he finished reading, the blue box disappeared again. ¡°Was this a quest?¡± he thought to himself, this would make sense if he were in a game. Having a suspicion about when the blue boxes appeared. Sam consciously thought about the box and tried to will it to appear.
Please proceed to your preferred temple to complete your reconfigurement.
¡°That was it!¡± Sam thought, mentally congratulating himself on finding out how to summon the box. ¡°If you think it, it will come!¡± Reading it once more, it again winked out of existence a couple of seconds after he finished. From what the box described, it didn¡¯t seem like any kind of quest though. It seemed more like... an e-mail from I.T.? Though it did have the word temple in it so that was quite questy. ¡°Alright!¡± Sam spoke to himself once more, finding comfort in the words, and trying to ignore the sudden realisation that the voice was much deeper than it used to be. ¡°Step one. Find a temple!¡± Standing up, Sam looked again up and down the alley before striding towards the end that opened onto the street. Once there he again looked up and down, his eyes spotting what caused that slight orange twinkle he had seen earlier. About 100 meters away, at a crossroads where the street met another, a flaming torch rested on top of a pole right in the streets centre. Not seeing the irony of what he was doing, with regards to his recent experiences, Sam went towards the light. As he was walking, Sam continued to glance all around him. There was no one else to be seen, something Sam was actually quite thankful for. Either side of him, the buildings loomed upwards in the night. They looked odd to Sam¡¯s eyes in what little light was available to him. They did not appear to have any glass on them, nor any plastic frames or doors. It was all stone and wood. Many of the buildings appeared a bit dilapidated as well. Several had shutters that were hanging off their hinges, others had holes in their walls and some had roof¡¯s which appeared to be caved in. Other houses however, had a small glow that could be seen through some of the cracks between the shutters, along with smoke rising from a chimney or two, blacking out some of the stars behind them. Sam felt distinctively uncomfortable and began to hurry towards the torch ahead of him. Arriving at the crossroads, Sam happily walked up to the pole in front of him and grasped it. Counting his tiny journey from the alley as a minor win, the first of many he hoped in his new life. Looking up, he began to examine the torch. It was quite inefficient to use fire as a light source, Sam thought. ''Also how is it staying lit? Maybe there is a gas line in the pole? Hmm the pole is made of wood...'' Moving on, Sam looked down each of the streets branching off from the crossroads. In each path, he could see another torch after just fifty meters. Only the way behind him was lightless, and even appeared to be ominously black, as his night vision was ruined by the fire above him. He immediately ruled out going back. This left three potential paths to choose from, and Sam subconsciously raised one hand to rub the sides of his mouth, which he commonly did when thinking. A vile smell assaulted him and he immediately looked down at his hand in disgust. In the light of the torch, Sam got a good look at the brown and disturbingly red substance smeared all over both of his palms. Unsure how he missed the smell before, now that he was aware of it he could smell nothing else. Looking down at the rest of his body, his eyes opened wide in shock and concern at the state he was in. He wore a torn shirt, made from some thick and course looking material, along with a set of worn and shabby trousers. All of which was covered in vomit and what could be nothing else than dried, and not so dry in some places, blood. Pulling up his shirt and without a care that he was still in public, even at night time, Sam quickly and methodically examined every inch of himself to check if there were any wounds. There was a large tear in the right side of his shirt, and after expecting the worst, Sam was pleasantly surprised to find that he had not a scratch on him. Only faint white lines which he could barely see in the torchlight, and also a peculiar white scar under his right arm. A sharp voice, barked at him from the path to his left immediately put a stop to his examination, before he could continue with his legs. His head snapping to the direction he heard the voice. Sam could just make out several silhouettes appearing from beyond the torchlight, along with a sharp tap which marked their footfalls. Unsure if he should be running, and unsure if he could, even if he wanted to, Sam stayed still and watched the figures get closer. As they entered the torchlight, Sam¡¯s mouth hung agape as four men covered in metal plates and chainmail armour clinked and clanked their way towards him. Three of them had massive spears with axe heads on the end of them; the other carried a large sword across his back, with the hilt poking up above a shoulder. The three men with the spear axes took up position around him, with their weapons down and pointing directly at him. Looking around, Sam was able to see their faces under matching helmets, which sloped down sharply from the centre of their heads. All three of them looked decidedly unhappy to see him, and were most certainly not about to welcome him to their quaint little town. The same voice as before barked out another word at him and Sam spun around once more to face the last of the men. He was not wearing a helmet, but from the slightly shinier looking metal he was covered with, it was clear he was in charge. ''What language is that? French?'' Sam thought before replying out loud. ¡°Umm... Hi.¡± The leader did not reply and just glared. ¡°Je m''appelle...Sam?¡± he tried next. The leader snapped out a couple sentences, looking expectantly at Sam to answer. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t understand...¡± Sam replied futilely, unsure how to proceed from here. It must not have been what the man was hoping for, as the frown on his face grew more prominent, and Sam noticed him grasping a large knife at his hip. The man uttered a few more sentences, the last one in a commanding tone, which must have been the reason the three other guards slowly started advancing on him. ¡°Whoa whoa¡± Sam let out; he raised his arms to try and deescalate the situation. His palms were held outwards to try and show he had no weapons, just like you were supposed to do with police, and hopefully medieval guards as well. Apparently however, this was completely the wrong thing to do on this world. When Sam had finished raising his hands, he saw the leaders eyes widen in shock before diving to the ground at his side. ¡°Erm, what?¡± Sam uttered, completely baffled by what the man had just done. It was like he thought I was pointing a gun at him or something. Sam was still trying to work out what had just happened, when he felt something heavy and blunt crack into the back of his skull. 03 - Incarceration and Illumination A fog of pain was the first thing Sam felt as he regained consciousness; he could almost see it as he blearily opened an unseeing eye. The other one remained tightly shut. Letting out a low groan Sam began to move and immediately stopped once he listened to his body¡¯s passionate speech against the idea, conveyed by the medium of agony. Every part of him seemed to hurt, and he could do nothing but lie still for several moments in order to to take in his situation. The back of his head throbbed awfully. An image of one of those big ''axe spears'' came to Sam¡¯s mind, as part of him thanked the guard for not using the pointy end. Another part of course, still thought the guard was a massive prick for knocking him out in the first place. Regaining some focus in his eye, Sam looked along the ground which his face was level with. The floor was rough stone, crudely worked so that although there was a pattern to it, no care had been made to make it presentable. The wall opposite was fairly dark, though it seemed to have been made with a similar standard as the flooring. High up along its stony surface, a small barred window allowed enough light into the room for Sam to see all of this. Grimacing against what was to come; Sam carefully rolled over onto his back and ended up resting there for another moment. He had aimed to get into a sitting position, but quickly decided on doing so in small manageable chunks. Looking up, Sam saw some broad wooden beams holding up the high ceiling above him. ¡®Nice to know it¡¯s not all stone¡¯ Sam thought to himself. As he waited, Sam reached a hand up to his closed eye to find out why he couldn¡¯t see. His fingers gently probed a puffy mass of flesh that must be his eyelid. Worried about his vision, he was just about able to painfully, but successfully, pry them apart to confirm he could still see. Channelling this relief allowed Sam to finish sitting up and to continue examining himself. Despite his seemingly superb health when he had looked under the torchlight, Sam saw that his body was now a mass of bruises. The strange white scars on his right side could no longer be seen beneath his now black and blue skin. His nose was also broken to go along with his heavily swollen eye. ¡®Must have fallen forwards after I got knocked out¡¯ Sam thought, however he knew that even if this was the case, it still didn¡¯t explain all the other bruising. The click of a lock made Sam look up to one side of the room, where he saw a thick wooden door, reinforced with metal, swing open. Through the door stepped a man holding a burning torch, dressed similarly to the guards from the previous night. Behind him followed an older man with quite an impressive white beard which matched an equally white but less impressive robe. The guard marched up to Sam and spoke in a harsh and cruel tone. He had a sneer on his face, as he waved the torch threateningly in front of him. Clear that this man was not a friend, Sam kept his mouth shut and tried very hard to adopt the same innocent expression he would use as a child when his mother accused him of stealing cookies. Not seeming to care however, the guard spat at Sam, who raised up his hands in disgust. Using this opening, the guard kicked Sam hard in the ribs, ruining Sam¡¯s hard work and knocking him over again. ¡°Jesus!¡± Sam exclaimed as he smacked into the floor. ¡®What kind of fucked up society is this?¡¯ Sam thought to himself, knowing that saying anything aloud in any kind of critical tone was an unwise decision. He had no need to speak out though, as the old man let out his own protestation at the guard¡¯s violence, followed by a fast and heated discussion between the two involving a lot of gesturing in Sam¡¯s direction. Unsure what to do Sam kept quiet and simply watched this unfold, slightly glad that abusing prisoners was not apparently a socially approved past time. With a final gesture and a dismissive wave, the guard left the room and closed the door behind him. This left Sam alone with the old man, who was immediately placed in Sam''s good books, as he was helped back up to a sitting position. The old man then shared a seat beside him. The man mumbled something under his breath, which Sam took as an apology. He then raised a small flask to Sam¡¯s lips, who upon seeing water for the first time in who knows how long, greedily accepted by chugging down the entire contents. The old man chuckled as he returned the flask to wherever it had come from. With a smile the old man spoke, the inflection at the end of the sentence placing it in the context of a question. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Sam replied. ¡°I don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re saying.¡± The man did not reply, instead he bit his bottom lip as though thinking. He then spoke again, this time the words seemed more guttural and had a different rhythm than before. The old man looked at Sam expectantly. ¡°Sorry, I still don¡¯t understand...¡± Sam replied again, feeling bad for some reason, despite his circumstance being quite outside his control. The old man seemed to get the gist of it however and nodded, accepting no conversation between the two would be taking place. The man straightened up and reached behind his back to pull out a book. He then began to read. The old man¡¯s voice was monotone and had an air of formality about it. Unsure what to do, Sam listened, trying to appear polite to the man. It must have been a good five minutes before the man fell silent and the book closed with a snap. The old man held Sam¡¯s gaze for a long moment, his expression was sad and Sam thought he saw a hint of pity in those old eyes. He then abruptly stood up and turned to leave. ¡°Wait!¡± Sam pleaded, causing the man to turn back towards him. ¡°Where am I? I have absolutely no idea what I am supposed to be doing!¡± Sam reached out towards the old man, wanting him to stay. The pain in body flared up when he began to reach, and Sam could not help but whimper slightly. ¡°I think I need a doctor...¡± Sam whispered, eyes welling up from the pain and the uncertainty of his future. The old man took Sam¡¯s hand and spoke in a reassuring tone, he then reached into his robe and his hand returned with a necklace made of a small leather cord that had a wooden figurine tied to it. Taking Sam¡¯s hand, the man placed the necklace into it, and then closed Sam¡¯s fingers around it. He squeezed Sam¡¯s hands comfortingly, before turning around once more to leave. Upon reaching the door, the man was let out by the same guard as before, who slammed the thick wood shut after glaring in his direction for a moment. Sam could then hear the lock click back into place, and once more he was alone. ¡°Shit.¡± Sam said loudly. ¡°Shit Shit Shit!¡± ¡°Ok, new plan.¡± Sam once again started talking to himself, trying not to freak out about being held captive in what was essentially a medieval dungeon. ¡°First step, get out of this dungeon. Second, find out why I need to go to a temple to satisfy some stupid blue bo...¡±
Please proceed to your preferred temple to complete your reconfigurement.
¡°Yes I¡¯ll get to you eventually...¡± Sam muttered under his breath before crossing his arms over his knees and sinking his face into his wrists.
Religious symbol detected. Requirements overridden. Complete reconfiguration? Yes/No
The blue box blazed straight into his vision, even with his head buried in his arms. ¡®Religious Symbol?¡¯ thought Sam. He glanced up from his arms at the necklace that was still held in his hand. ¡®Is it glowing slightly?¡¯ Sam wondered.
Religious symbol detected. Requirements overridden. Complete reconfiguration? Yes/No
The box reappeared and Sam carefully read, his eyes hovering over the ¡°Yes¡±. Unsure what else he could do in his current situation, Sam mentally yelled ¡°yes¡± hoping this would be enough. It was, and the blue box was replaced by another.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Reconfiguring...
¡®Well that was anticlimactic¡¯ Sam thought, before his vision turned white. * ¡°Wh... What?¡± Sam muttered, coming out of a daze ¡°Where am I?¡± Gone were the harsh stone walls of the dungeon, in their place, smooth white surfaces covered the floor, four walls and a ceiling. The only object of note contained within the room, was a small stone statue, reaching up to Sam¡¯s chest. The statue was of a woman. She looked down and to the side; a marble like stone flowed naturally around her, creating a marvellously crafted shawl. Her hands were stretched out, palms facing upwards, as though making some sort of offering. After briefly wondering what kind of crazy world he had fallen into, one which just teleported him to seemingly random places, Sam wandered over to inspect the statue more closely. Upon reaching it, his examination was cut short as another blue box popped up in his vision.
Greetings
Sam blinked a couple of times to check if any more text would appear, however none did and the message did not disappear after several seconds as the others had. ¡°Hello?¡± Sam hesitatingly said, unsure if it was waiting for some sort of response.
Welcome to the realm of Vaelen. As a traveller from beyond the Construct, you have been granted several gifts to aid in your adaptation to the laws of this realm. The first of these is the gift of knowledge. You may ask three questions, which will be answered with divine authority. Three questions remaining.
¡°Umm, what?¡± Sam asked unthinkingly.
As a newly arrived traveller from another world, you lack the knowledge of how the Construct affects those living in the realm of Vaelen, something those born to this world would naturally acquire. An opportunity for balance is gifted to you by the Construct, in order to gain the knowledge to properly prepare for your life ahead. In order to maintain this balance, a limit of three questions can be asked. As a newly arrived traveller from another world, your body lacks the character that beings forged and moulded by a lifetime in Vaelen have acquired. An opportunity for balance is gifted to you by the Construct, in order for you to recast yourself into a body more suited for the trials ahead. In order to maintain balance, three customisations can be made. As a newly arrived traveller from another world, you lack the wisdom and insight aquired through instinct and lessons learned. An opportunity for balance is gifted to you by the Construct, in order for you to gain the natural skills and wisdom to facethe lessons ahead. In order to maintain balance, three Constructed skills shall be given. The tenth and final gift grants you, the traveller, the opportunity togain the blessing of aclass. A mould and structure. A scaffold and frame. To flourish and grow.. Two Questions Remaining.
¡®Shit, I didn¡¯t mean to ask anything!¡¯ Sam mentally yelled at himself, keeping his lips consciously tightly sealed. Though considering the accidental asking of the question, the answer still gave him some information about what was happening to him. It seemed the world itself thought Sam was pitiable enough to give him a helping hand. The blue box mentioned three sections. The first he was currently in and was simple enough; he could ask any question and be given an answer. The second seemed to be some sort of physical customisation, making Sam wonder if he could change his appearance back to his old self, rather than the mystery body he fell into. This idea certainly appealed to Sam, who felt on the edge of claustrophobia, being in a body that wasn¡¯t his. The third section was a bit more mysterious. ¡®It would give wisdom and skills?¡¯ Sam pondered, unsure what this could mean. ¡®Holy shit!¡¯ Sam thought eyes widening. ¡°Am I going to come out of this knowing Kung-Fu?¡¯ He was tempted to ask this as a question, however seeing as how he would come across this section later on anyway, Sam decided he would get more value from asking something else. The word ¡°Construct¡± still had little meaning to Sam, and after thinking about several additional subjects, he kept coming back to this as the major mystery. It seemed like this was what was causing strange blue boxes to appear in front of his face. Better understanding the core system he was living in seemed the wisest course. With a questionthought out beforehand, Sam had decided to keep his first intentional query basic, and simply asked ¡°What is the Construct?¡±
The Construct is a divine system, created by the builders of this realm to keep in check its wild and dangerously untamed magic¡¯s from spreading and corrupting other realms. The Construct creates order from chaos and provides a framework for the denizens of Vaelen to utilise this treacherous force without fear of obliteration, allowing them power inconceivable to mortals from other lands. One Question Remaining.
''...'' ''...'' ¡®...That was it?!'' Sam wondered, slightly put out. ¡®I got more information from the first one!¡¯ Shaking his head, Sam thought on the bestowed knowledge, to see if anything deeper could be gained. It seemed this construct played both the part of defending the ¡®realm¡¯ against some sort of destructive power, but instead of sealing away this power, it used it as magical fuel to give to those living here. This was interesting, but not particularly helpful. ¡®It granted inconceivable power? Great! How?¡¯ ¡°How do denizens utilise the power granted by the construct?¡± Sam asked out loud to the statue.
The Construct grants all denizens the most basic of powers by allowing them to utilise the Constructs categorisation repository. This allows the denizen to obtain basic knowledge about objects and other denizens by merely inspecting them. Advanced power is granted upon reaching maturity, by bestowing the opportunity to gain the blessing of a class. Accompanying this class, related skills and abilities can be chosen and utilised once enoughessence has been gathered for the class to grow. Zero Questions Remaining.
''...'' ¡®So power is mostly related to a class¡¯ Sam concluded to himself, luckily the other box had told him he was getting one of those later. Though according to what the Construct had just mentioned, he should already be able to use its power to ¡®Identify¡¯ things. ¡®And how do I do that?¡± Sam wondered. ¡°Inspect!¡± Sam said out loud. There was no reaction and the Constructs answer to his previous question remained in his vision. ¡°Identify! Evaluate! Inform! Tell Me!¡± Sam said aloud, again to no reaction. Frustrated he tried flailing around whilst saying other potentially relevant words. He eventually ended up doing something, as the box from before disappeared, replaced with another.
The second gift is the gift of character. The construct will now evaluate you to determine which three customisations you will benefit from the most, equivalent to current denizens in Vaelen.
Sam began to feel a tingling sensation all over his body. The blue box in his vision started vibrating, along with everything else he could see. Thankfully this only lasted a couple of seconds, and was followed by another message from the Construct.
You have been given the opportunity to change your name. Do you wish to change your existing name of ¡°NO NAME¡±? Yes/No
¡°Yes¡± Sam responded instantly, seeing to sense in being called ''NO NAME'' by the boxes for the rest of his life.
Whatis your new name?
Sam was about to just repeat his own name, however paused before doing so. There was nothing wrong with the name ''Sam''. Nothing at all. He did however; feel it lacked a certain something. There had been some very famous ''Sam¡¯s'', even set in fantasy worlds, but still taking on that name in this new world, with swords, dungeons and magic, just didn¡¯t quite sit right. One good thing of playing computer games when he was younger, was that he had already overcome this problem before. ¡°Samael.¡± Sam stated confidently, choosing the character name he often went with in games. It also already contained his own name, so he could still use it as an abbreviation.
You have now been renamed ¡°Samael¡±.
You have been given the opportunity to change your appearance. Do you wish to change you current appearance? Yes/No
¡°YES!¡± Cheered Samael. ¡®The Construct literally read my mind!¡¯ After Samael¡¯s loud confirmation, the text in the message box began to twist and distort. Its colour began to change from white to a more pale pink, as the words enlarged, stretched out and morphed into an image of a young man. A man that was a complete stranger to Samael. ¡®Is that what I look like now?¡¯ Samael asked himself, examining the body in front of him. It was... not inspiring. The face of the body was slightly pudgy, several scars and pits marred its surface, along with too much hair in several incorrect places. Rather than an easy going smile, the mouth was held in a natural grimace, as though having an unpleasant disposition. There were no clothes blocking his view, and Samael saw a build that could charitably be described as stocky at best and thuggish at worst. There were silver scars covering several parts of the body and Samael realised he had seen those before, especially down the body¡¯s right side. ¡®This is definitely me as I am now...¡¯ Samael thought before rubbing his hands together. ¡®Let¡¯s fix that!¡¯ 04 - A Classy Character The process could have taken days for all Samael knew. There did not seem to be any way to mark the passage of time, not even tiredness, as he felt just as fresh as he did when arriving in the white room. After spending an absolute age in trying to find out how to work the modifications; he ended up using a complicated method of speech and hand signals. Samael methodically and dedicatedly went over every part of the model in front of him. What he was left with was familiar, comforting and decidedly him, and if the nose was a little straighter, the chin a touch more chiselled, an extra inch in certain places, Samael could still accept the body in front of him as his own. The only recognisable thing left of the previous figure was the silver scar on the right side. It was a deliberate choice, to remind him of his recent experiences and in part as a mark commemorating the man who died, allowing Samael a second chance. ¡°Umm... Done?¡± Samael said to the model in front of him. The model shimmered and began to distort, however rather than disappearing, it reached out and touched Samael, leading to his body tingling all over once again. It was quickly over and Samael began to flex and bend. Instead of clumsy movements which he had been making earlier, when he reached and stretched it felt so much more natural to him. He had started to get used to having a thick clunky body. The sudden change back to the one he had spent most of his life in felt wonderful. It was akin to slipping on a comfortable set of boots that had already been well worn in, as well as instantly sobering up and regaining his sense of balance. ¡°Thank god!¡± Sam exclaimed, though he did notice that his voice was a touch deeper than he remembered growing up. He was not too fussed however, certain he would get used to it and even subconsciously liking the small change, even if he hadn¡¯t intended it. *
You have been given the opportunity to change your base stats. Do you wish to change you Base Stats? Yes/No
A new box had popped up and Sam was stroking his slightly more prominent chin as he read it. Considering the video games he had played, he had a pretty good idea of what these would be. Also since these ¡®opportunities¡¯ were specifically chosen for him by the Construct, it probably had a much better idea of what Samael needed than he himself did right now. ¡°Yes.¡± Sam spoke confidently.
Resetting Base Stats to average human. 80 skill points to spend in Base Stats. Please amend the following as required:
Base Stats
Strength 0/20
Affects the physical power of the body.
Agility 0/20
Affects the physical speed and reflexes of the body.
Endurance 0/20
Affects how long the body can perform physical tasks.
Constitution 0/20
Affects the bodies resistance and recovery.
Intelligence 0/20
Affects the speed of thought. Increases overall mana.
Wisdom 0/20
Affects the clarity of memories. Increases mana regen.
Willpower 0/20
Affects mental strength and resistance.
Perception 0/20
Affects the quality of the senses.
Finished Amending Base Stats? Yes/No
Samael read, and then re-read each stat. The selection seemed nothing special. There were none that seemed particularly out of place, and he thought he had probably come across each one at some point when creating a gaming character in the past. There were several stats missing that he might have expected to see however, such as luck and charisma which he often neglected anyway in favour of others. In some games Samael would drastically shift the numbers to utterly favour a certain build, however his ignorance about how these stats would affect his own body, rather than a gaming avatar, made a cautious decision seem wiser. For this reason, he was tempted to just evenly distribute his points across all of them, though doing so a bit of a wasted opportunity in his eyes. Wanting to test out how to distribute his points, Samael consciously thought of the strength skill and tried to shove a single point into it.
Strength 20/20
Affects the physical power of the body.
¡°Holy Balls!¡± Samael yelled out loud, ¡°Undo! Back!¡± Using every ounce of mental ability he had, Samael ripped and tore at the stat screen until thankfully it began dipping back down, before finally returning to 0/20. At least found out he could seemingly remove misplaced points, probably until he hit the confirmation at the bottom of the stat screen. ¡®That was lucky¡¯ Samael thought, recovering from the panic of spending the rest of his life as a strength toting meat head. He did take into account that a medieval world would probably have more practical applications of strength than the one he had previously expired in, however a physical build just didn¡¯t sit right with him. It never had. The potential of almost having the decision made for him cemented Samael¡¯s position on what he would do. He mentally turned his attention to intelligence and wisdom. ¡®When was having too much of those a bad idea?¡¯ he reasoned. Carefully and tentatively, Samael thought of intelligence and, as gently as he could, tried to push a single point into it.
Intelligence 1/20
Affects the speed of thought. Increases overall mana.
¡°First one down... 79 to go...¡± Samael muttered to himself, before carefully and methodically assigning the others. * Samael looked over his finished Stat screen and nodded to himself at his choices.
Base Stats
Strength 6/20
Affects the physical power of the body.
Agility 9/20
Affects the physical speed and reflexes of the body.
Endurance 8/20
Affects how long the body can perform physical tasks.
Constitution 6/20
Affects the bodies resistance and recovery.
Intelligence 15/20
Affects the speed of thought. Increases overall mana.
Wisdom 15/20
Affects the clarity of memories. Increases mana regen.
Willpower 12/20
Affects mental strength and resistance.
Perception 9/20
Affects the quality of the senses.
Finished Amending Base Stats? Yes/No
The build Samael had chosen relied quite heavily on having strong mental abilities. This was a standard choice of his and although it did mean making some physical sacrifices, most notably in strength and constitution, Sam felt the mental boost would potentially help him avoid the need for them in the first place. Samael also didn¡¯t neglect his physical stats completely; Perception and Agility remained fairly high at 9, his reasoning that he still needed to see things and potentially run away from them. Endurance was at a respectable 8, allowing him to hopefully still run for a reasonable amount of time. The only real problem, Samael figured, would be if he got caught, as constitution and strength were the lowest stats. He was a bit worried he was being naive, especially as it seemed like the realm of Vaelen was a very physical place, however when those guards had assaulted arrested him, having bigger muscles wouldn¡¯t have really made much difference. Being able to think his way out of the situation might have. There was also the fact that ''mana'' seemed to be a major factor for intelligence and wisdom. ¡®And who needed to hit someone harder when you could fling fireballs into their faces!!!¡¯ Sam thought excitedly, revealing his true reasons behind his decisions, justifications be damned. Concentrating on the stat screen, Samael mentally thought ''Yes'' to show he was finished, causing the screen to vanish a few moments later.Stolen story; please report. What happened next felt incredibly peculiar, as he experienced a brief sensation of feeling like a slowly deflating balloon. Patting his arms, Samael could physically feel that they were smaller than they had been a moment ago. He half expected this, though it was still a bit of a shock, though still nothing compared to what he had already been through with his physical changes. Testing himself, Samael started walking away from the statue and began to circle the white room. He began to jog, then finally started dashing around, trying to find his new limits. After a while he did begin to feel tired, however it didn¡¯t seem like he had lost much from what he could already do. Slowing back down to a walk and breathing heavily from the brief exercise, Samael walked around the room until he felt he had recovered. When he was still breathing heavily a few minutes later, Samael thought he might have found a potential problem. His new constitution was fairly low, meaning it took longer to recover when he exerted himself like that. Reading it on a stat page was one thing, living it was a different experience entirely. Realising there was nothing that could be done about it now; Samael crushed any feelings of self-doubt and strode back over to the statue, eager to continue the rest of what was essentially his character creation. *
The third gift, is the gift of Wisdom. The Construct will now evaluate you to determine which three skills and abilities you will benefit from the most, equivalent to current denizens in Vaelen.
Expecting a tingling sensation, Samael instead saw his life flash before his eyes. He saw through his own memories the moment he started crawling; his first then last day of elementary school; The time he got into a fight in middle school and his first day of home schooling; Receiving the diploma his mum had bought for him; his first day of work and the boring repetition day after day; the time he left work that night and didn¡¯t make it home. Samael felt oddly optimistic after the flashes of his life finished. All the things he wished he had done, all those regrets, they were made in a previous life. He now got to start again... He did miss his mum though, and hoped she was doing ok.
You have been granted the opportunity to receive the skill: {Instinctual Interface} Provides the ability to instinctually manipulate the Construct, utilising it as simply as one might flex a limb. Learn Skill? Yes/No
To Samael, the Constructs current level of user friendliness left him with the same feeling as a swift punch to the crotch. Anything to improve this was a must have in his eyes. Samael mentally focused on ¡°Yes¡± until the box went away.
Congratulations! You have gained skill: {Instinctual Interface}
Samael dismissed the box from his mind... with so much ease he did a double take. It was similar to lifting something really light that you thought was actually incredibly heavy. With a thought, he brought the box back up, and then dismissed it again just as quick. ¡®Thank you Construct!¡¯ Samael felt a small pressure in his mind, as the next skill box wanted his attention. Just to show who was in charge now, he waited a full 30 seconds before allowing the new box to appear before him.
You have been granted the opportunity to receive the skill: {Common Tongue} The language spoken by the majority of humans in Vaelen. Learn Skill? Yes/No
¡®Well that seems pretty damned useful!¡¯ Samael thought. ¡®If I could understand what on earth the guards had been saying, maybe they wouldn¡¯t have clobbered me over the head!¡¯ Using his new found knowledge on how to operate the Construct, Samael simply willed his acceptance of the skill, causing the box to disappear.
Congratulations! You have gained skill: {Common Tongue}
¡°Yes, yes I have¡± Samael smiled. He then tried to say a few words. Rather than suddenly having the entirety of a new language dumped in his head, the skill instead guided him to attempt to speak in English, but channel the skill whilst doing so. Having {Instinctual Interface} seemed to help him here, as he just seemed to comprehend how to utilise the skill. It very much felt like just speaking normal English, but putting on an accent whilst doing so. Extremely pleased and thankful for the gifts so far, Samael gladly brought up the next box as it made its presence known.
You have been granted the opportunity to receive the skill: {Karmic Meter} This skill allows the user to see the sum of their good and bad deeds. Destined for heaven but tested once more. Beware the abyss wayward soul. Learn Skill? Yes/No
Samael¡¯s good mood dimmed as he read the description of {Karmic Meter}. There was a seriousness and weight to it unlike the other gifts. Those last sentences as well, they felt a bit too personalised regarding his current situation, as if added in warning to him specifically. A second chance at life, filled with opportunities and adventure, including the risk of damnation to his eternal soul. It was something Samael had not even thought about, but certainly should have on reflection. He had previously been considered worthy enough to enter heaven, but this was on the measure of his previous life. Anything could happen in his new one. ¡®Another valuable gift.¡¯ Samael thought to himself solemnly.
Congratulations! You have gained skill: {Karmic Meter}
Samael looked at the message of his third and final skill. He could feel it in the back of his mind, symbolised by a set of antique scales. They were currently unbalanced ever so slightly, his good deeds only just outweighing his bad. Samael face blanched. He felt the balance was not as far in his favour as he might previously have assumed. * Only one thing remained for Samael, the last gift that the Construct had ordained to give him. A class. From what it had told him earlier, the class would stay with him for his entire life and was the primary method of channelling the Constructs power. With great nervousness about what might happen next, Samael allowed the message of his last and final gift to appear in front of him.
The final gift is the gift of class. The Construct will evaluate your lifetime achievements to determine what class would best suit your lifestyle, providing three classes to choose from.
¡®Wait...¡¯ Sam realised, ¡®Your class is based on what you¡¯ve already done with your life? But I haven¡¯t done anything important yet!¡¯ Caught off guard, Sam was unable to stop the following boxes from slipping into his vision.
Clerk Through trial and error you have forged a path of sales. No transaction is too great or small for the likes of you, except if it is over $100, then it needs managers approval. Select Class? Yes/No
Jailbird Life keeps on hitting, and you keep on taking it. Abiding by man''s laws is beneath you. Spending over half your life in Jail shows your dedication and perseverance to a life of crime Select Class? Yes/No
Necromancer You are touched by death. A deep comprehension of the beyond allows you to channel the mystic energies of the Construct to bring unlife back to the dead. Power is yours if you would but take it. Select Class? Yes/No
Samael was dumbfounded at the choice of class the Construct had given him. Clerk? Jailbird? If it based the selection on previous achievements, then he could see the link. Clerk was his old life, jailbird from his short time in this one, but the descriptions! ¡®It was as if the Construct was insulting him!¡¯ Samael thought to himself. ¡®How did it know I needed manager¡¯s approval?¡¯ he wondered with a flushed face. To say he was disappointed that the standard ones were missing would be an understatement, after all where were the warrior, hunter and mage classes? The only choice that wasn¡¯t completely unacceptable in his eyes was the last one. Necromancer. If clerk was before and jailbird was after, necromancer would have been his experience in between. ¡®Touched by Death indeed¡¯ Sam thought, shivering as he remembered grazing the bony skeletal hand of the boatman. In all the games he had played in his previous life, never had he ever been a necromancer. He was more used to firing awesome spells at his foes and blasting them with powerful magic¡¯s. ¡®There is no real choice...¡¯ Sam concluded. He had selected his stats based around some sort of magic user, of which the last choice was the only one. The alternatives were also too pathetic in his eyes to even warrant wasting any thought on. What instead drew his thoughts were the scales he now felt in the back of his mind. ¡®Necromancers were evil though, right?¡¯ He asked himself, wondering if he was about to doom himself. ¡®Clerk is the old me, I don¡¯t want to be that person any more. What is the point of a new life if I just live my old one out again? Jailbird is just unlucky, I am no criminal. This ¡®Construct¡¯ must have a plan for me right?¡¯ Slowly at first, then faster and faster he finalised his decision until with his mind he slammed ''Yes'' to select necromancer as his class. The choice that would stay with him for the rest of his life.
Congratulations! You have gained the Necromancer class
Congratulations! You have received your final gift from the Construct. You will now be returned to Vaelen.
Not a moment after the message told him he received his last gift, Samael felt a pulling sensation through his {Instinctual Interface} skill, then was promptly sucked out of the white room. Once Samael was gone, the marble statue lowered its arms, and then shattered. In its place was a humanoid form made of shimmering light, with a pair of glorious angelic wings protruding from its back. ¡°At least he will have a chance now...¡± an ethereal voice solemnly spoke. The white walls of the room wavered then dissipated into mist, a mist that was then sucked down into a glowing whirlpool on a dark and calm river. ¡°And what was your contribution! Forcing the soul to choose a Necromancer class?!¡± The ethereal voice of the angel suddenly asked the still retreating death, slowly punting away on his little boat. ¡°There should be some nice interesting tales to hear when I next see him.¡± Came the only reply, slightly muffled as death had not even bothered turning around. The angel made a backhanded motion towards the boat, sending out a wave of power which capsized the little craft. Strangely however, rather than flipping over to present its keel to the surface, the boat flipped and yet remained unchanged, as though it had been righted instead. Death cackled as he continued on his journey unfazed. 05 - Prison Break As the white walls disappeared from Samael¡¯s vision, the harsh dark stone of the prison replaced them. His physical form was where he had seemingly left it, crouched up against one of the walls, with a leather string in his palm. Oddly there was a small pile of ash beneath his hand, with no sight of the wooden figure that had previously adorned the necklace. Dropping the piece of leather, Samael painlessly stood up. His body was no longer the clunky awkward form it had been; instead it was what he had selected in the white room. The multiple injuries were gone and his clothes were even different. Instead of the bloody rags he had left his body in; he now wore a pair of plain trousers and a shirt, made of a course grey material. There was something else as well, something at the back of his mind that wanted attention, his {Instinctual Interface} skill directing him towards it. ¡°Status!¡±
Status
Name: Samael Race: Human
Class: Necromancer Level: 0
Title -
Stats:
Strength 6 Intelligence 15
Agility 9 Wisdom 15
Endurance 8 Willpower 12
Constitution 6 Perception 9
Free Points 0 Karma 10
Skills
{Instinctual Interface} Rank: #N/A
{Common Tongue} Rank: #N/A
{Karmic Meter} Rank: #N/A
There it was, his attributes summed up in a not too large box. There were a couple things noteworthy that he saw. The first was that his necromancer class was currently at level 0. Samael was not quite sure how this worked; normally he would have expected any kind of starting level would be at level 1? There also appeared to be no benefit in his status window from gaining his class, that he could see. Where were his health, mana and stamina meters? Moving on, the other part of note was the figure next to the Karma: ¡°10¡±. There was no additional information on this status page, however using the skill allowed Samael to see that although a result of 10 put him on the ¡°Good¡± side, it was only just, with very little space for nefarious actions. Looking towards the bottom, at his three skills, they all appeared to have an error instead of a rank. Something told Samael that skills could normally be evolved in some way. These three seemed locked out however, with no sort of scale enabling them to grow or get more powerful. ¡®Maybe they don¡¯t need to, or can''t because of how I got them?¡¯ he wondered. With a thought Samael closed his status and continued looking around the prison. Being able to freely move around, rather than a huddled mess on the floor, allowed him to explore the nooks and crannies of the small room he was confined to. As to what he found, there was little of note. Apart from the wall with the heavy wooden door, the other walls held nothing interesting. The high window on one side was out of reach, even when Samael jumped as high as he could. There were no benches or stools he could use to climb up, and the metal bars covering it suggested there was no way out, even if there was something to jump off. He needed to get out of this room. Even with his new found intelligence and wisdom, Samael could not think of a reasonable excuse he could give the guards as to why he was in here. Especially as he felt they were not so dependent on reason, based on his previous experience with them. After thoroughly scouring the room, Samael held in his hands the leather string from the necklace, several bits of chipped stone, likely from the walls, and several rib bones from some sort of small rodent. These were to be the tools of his escape. Samael resisted sinking down into despair and instead crept over to the door. Pushing his ear against it he listened carefully, however he heard nothing from the other side. Lowering his eye to the keyhole centred to the left of the door; there was no handle above it; Samael peeped through. There was a stone wall about six feet opposite the cell he was in, illuminated by a small orange flickering, hinting that one of those flaming torches was nearby. Dropping to the floor, Samael tried to peek under the door, though he was unable to get his head low enough to see anything. Rising again, he began to study the lock, looking at its width, the shape of the hole, the barest hints at some sort of internal mechanism hidden behind the metal. After his examination he made a firm conclusion. He had no idea what he was trying to achieve, it looked like a lock same as any other. Unable to think of anything else, he placed the bones in front of the door and chose one that was about three inches in length, and slightly curved. It was most likely some sort of rib, however one end was broken causing it to end in a sharp point, almost like a pick.... ¡®And what better thing to use when trying to unlock a door, than something that looks like a pick.¡¯ Samael reasoned to himself. Raising the bone to the lock, Samael began to use it to feel around, trying to gain some sort of insight into how the mechanism was put together. He was sure that was what they did in the movies, ¡®there couldn¡¯t be too much more to it, right?¡¯ A couple of minutes passed by as Samael gently scraped and prodded the lock with his bone. He was totally unsure if he was getting anywhere, the lock made no movements or sounds, not even when he put all three inches into it. He was about to try something new when he began to feel something give when pushed. Excitedly, Samael began poking this area furiously. As he kept going, there seemed to be more and more movement, as he felt something begin to turn. ¡®Yes... Yes.. Yes!¡± Samael thought as he enthusiastically twisted his bone and pushed against the hard wood. Of the door. With a smile on his face, Samael felt the door began to swing open in front of him, pulled open by a very perplexed guard. Sam¡¯s smile froze. He was not the master lock picker he thought, he probably just made enough noise scratching away it got someone¡¯s attention. ¡°Who are you?! What are you doing in there?!¡± the guard demanded in English but not English, his face a mixture of confusion and surprise as his gaze swept over Samael. The guard was not the mean one from before, he seemed far younger and even looked like he had some baby fat in his cheeks. ¡°Help!¡± Samael blurted out, standing up as his wits struggled to catch up. ¡°I don¡¯t know how I got in here!¡± ¡°Step back!¡± the guard ordered, pushing against Samael¡¯s chest to forcefully guide him back from the door as he himself stepped inside. The guard looked quickly around the room before spinning back to Samael. ¡°Where is he? The vagabond?¡± The guard demanded, his eyes wide, as if desperately needing an answer. ¡°I don¡¯t know...¡± Samael repeated. ¡°I just woke up here...¡± ¡°Oh gods...¡± The guard muttered in a panic, looking around the room again for some sort of answer. Turning back to Samael having made a decision, the guard ushered a taut ¡°Wait here.¡± Before he hurried out of the cell and down one of the corridors, leaving an astounded Samael standing in front of a wide open door. ¡®Wait here. Yea ok¡¯ Samael sarcastically thought as he bolted past the open door. Once in the corridor beyond his cell, Samael saw many other heavy looking doors spaced at regular intervals against the walls. Just next to the door that contained his cell was a chair and table that the guard must have been sitting at, no doubt hearing Samael scratching away with the rib bone. On top of the table was a large set of black iron keys, which were promptly picked up. Looking up and down the corridor, it appeared that the direction the guard had rushed off to was the only exit, the other side ending at a flat stone wall only three doors down. Psyching himself up, Sam was about to rush after the guard, intending to find some way to slip by, when a voice surprised him from the side. ¡°Hey, over here.¡± it said in a rough gravelly tone.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Samael turned to his right where he could see a man¡¯s face pressed up against a metal grill, fixed around head height on one of the doors. The face had wild eyes which were set in deep dark hollows. What little hair the man had was long and wild, although it was offset by encroaching baldness. ¡°Over here.¡± The man said again, making a ¡®come hither¡¯ gesture with a gnarled finger he had stuck through the bars. Samael tentatively approached the man¡¯s door and stopped in front of it. Never breaking eye contact, the man grinned at Samael, revealing black rotten teeth. ¡°Escaping are we?¡± he asked, enveloping Samael in his foul breath. ¡°Err... yea...¡± Sam responded, not really wanting to engage. He awkwardly turned back to the corridor to leave, but before he could take a step the man spoke again. ¡°You won¡¯t make it. Not alone.¡± Samael paused and the man continued. ¡°I see¡¯s you pick up them keys. You let me out and I can help. Much betta chance yea? Names Garren, what¡¯s yours?¡± Unsure of what he should do Samael stood still as he thought about it, glancing from down the corridor back to the strange man. Just looking at him Samael could tell this was no shining knight about to rescue him, the idea of ¡®not judging on looks¡¯ be damned. ¡®Maybe that¡¯s what I need at the moment though?¡¯ Samael asked himself. He was about to break out of prison, jail, wherever he was. ¡®Maybe I need a partner in crime? And he certainly looks like a criminal...¡¯ The sound of voices echoed down the walls ahead of him, along with an encroaching light as whoever was coming brought more torches. ¡°Times up wet nose, whas it guna be?¡± The man called Garren asked next to him. ¡°Shit!¡± Samael swore to himself as he listened, hearing footsteps now, knowing there was no way he was getting out of this. ¡°Ok¡± Samael said, feeling that the decision was made for him and pulling the keys out of his pocket in a desperate panic. If he had been paying attention he might have felt his {Instinctual Interface} skill tell him of a tiny connection that formed between himself and the man. Samael stepped up to the door and started fumbling with the lock, trying to ignore the creepy grinning face not one foot from his own. ¡°Not that one, the big one!¡± Garren instructed, as Samael tried the biggest key in the set. Hearing a ¡®clink¡¯ Samael barely had time to step to the side before the door was pushed open and Garren jumped out into the corridor with him. Garren¡¯s body was just as decrepit as his face. ¡°Guna need this!¡± the man said as he walked with an uncharacteristic grace over to the guards table. Leaning over he picked up a small sword that had been hidden on the other side of the chair. ¡°What are you going to do with that?!¡± Samael asked nervously, instantly regretting setting free a potential lunatic of a man for all he knew. ¡°Whatever I want...¡± Garren mysteriously said as he eyed Samael with a predatory gaze. Samael stepped back a couple of paces with his hands outstretched. ¡®Yup definitely a bad idea!¡¯ he thought, before spinning and jumping into Garren¡¯s old cell and quickly slamming the door shut. He needn¡¯t have rushed as Garren made no move to stop him, simply staring and laughing as Samael imprisoned himself. ¡®Shit!¡¯ Samael thought as he found out the keys didn¡¯t work from the inside. Still laughing, Garren ignored Samael as he slowly stalked his way up the corridor. Putting his eyes right up against the metal grill, he could just about see Garren take cover behind a small section of stone wall that jutted out into the corridor. Moments later, he could make out a light getting brighter and brighter as whoever was coming got closer. ¡°... condemned. You had one bloody job you little shit. Only had to wait until fucking evening!¡± an angry voice could be heard, echoing down the walls. ¡°It was closed the entire time!¡± another voice replied, sounding like the young guard who had left the door open. ¡°There was only that other fella in there!¡± ¡°Probably the vagabond playing a trick on your stupid self!¡± The other voice replied angrily, Samael recognising it as the voice of the mean guard, who had kicked him in his cell. ¡°No way. This fella was Construct blessed!¡± the young guard replied, trying to sound confident but the uncertainty of inexperience bleeding through. ¡°Fucking useless!¡± The mean guard barked out. Samael¡¯s heart was pounding in his chest as he listened. ¡®What the hell is Garren going to do?¡¯ he desperately wondered. ¡®Oh god I am going to get caught!¡¯ Samael could just about see them now as the two were walking down the corridor. He saw them step past the section of wall Garren was hiding behind, and then saw Garren thrust the sword into the mean guard¡¯s side, just under the armour. Samael¡¯s mouth opened in horror. Time seemed to pause for a moment as he struggled to accept what he was seeing. The screams, shouts of pain and mad laughter washed over him, as he felt the bottom of his stomach drop out in shock. The young guard was yelling. He had already walked past Garren when his fellow guard was stabbed through and could not retreat back up the corridor. A pool of crimson spread out from the body along the floor, then a splash of red was sent up a wall as the sword was brutally ripped free. The young guard backed away from an advancing Garren, then turned and rushed to his former seat at the table, reaching behind the chair for the same weapon Garren held in his hand. Not managing to recognise it when covered in his colleague¡¯s blood. Its absence from behind the chair confused the young guard for a moment, before he turned back to the threat his eyes should never have left. As he did, he was met with the sight of his own sword plunging downwards, and was unable to react in time before the sharp metal entered his torso from just behind his collar bone. Samael could not turn away. He feebly tried but just couldn¡¯t and kept staring open mouthed, watching with terrified eyes what was happening to the young guard, barely more than a kid. The sword, firmly still held in Garren¡¯s grip, kept the guard from falling over. Blood poured from his mouth as his eyes held an expression more of shock than of pain. Slowly and cruelly, Garren pulled. Inch by inch the blade was extracted before finally allowing the guard to collapse unmoving against a wall. Sensing danger, Samael looked up, where he caught the predatory gaze that was once more directed towards him. Letting out a yelp, Samael stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet in his haste to back away from the door. He kept backing away until he hit the wall behind him and could go no further. If his heart was pounding in his chest before, it was thundering now. Samael could hear nothing else save his pulse hammering away in his ears. The door was pulled open. Garren stepped inside his old cell, the sword in his hand left droplets of blood along the floor as the man walked over to him, the grace of his movements contrasting with the brutality of his appearance. ¡°N...No! Please!¡± Samael begged as Garren bent down to his level. ¡°Thanks wet nose.¡± Garren said simply, his offensive breath once more assaulting Samael¡¯s senses. ¡°Consider our partnership at an end.¡± The tiny connection between them, which Samael had not noticed until now broke. ¡®Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!¡¯ Samael thought, as he shut his eyes tight and brought his arms up to protect his head. ¡®That¡¯s what you say before you kill someone! I¡¯m dead, I¡¯m dead, I¡¯m so fucking dead! Oh Christ I hope it doesn¡¯t hurt. Pretty pointless character creation, just to die fifteen minutes later!... Why am I not dead?¡¯ Samael opened an eye in a squint, then fully opened both as he saw he was alone in the cell. Samael blinked several times in surprise as he looked around. A strange instinct prompted him to immediately stand up and quietly sneak over to the open door. Peering down the corridor, Samael could just make out a figure with Garren¡¯s graceful gait disappear around a corner further down. Taking a deep and shaky breath, Samael leaned against the door, as the panic which gripped his mind began to leave him. He still had a hole where the bottom of his stomach should have been, which only got larger as his gaze shifted between the two bodies of the guards that lay dead near him. He had never seen death before. The being yes, but not the act. Or he had? Did seeing his own dead body count? Once he became more in control of himself, Samael noticed that there were several messages from the construct wanting his attention, of which he summoned in front of him immediately.
Congratulations! Your party has killed [Guardsman Lvl 16] Essence Absorbed You have lost 20 Karma!
Congratulations! Your party has killed [Guardsman Lvl 2] Essence Absorbed You have lost 100 Karma!
Congratulations! You have gained enough essence to level up your class [Necromancer] Level Class? Yes/No
¡°What?¡± Samael stammered aloud. ¡®But I didn¡¯t kill them!¡¯ The construct did not seem to care, as the ''Essence'' and also karmic penalty was there for him to see. When he looked at his status screen, the figure next to his ''Karma'' field now showed at negative 110. When he looked inwards towards the skill, the foreboding scales were now tipped much more heavily in the wrong direction. ¡°Oh fuck!¡± Samael swore loudly. His immortal soul was now at risk. If he were to die now, he would face what the Construct had ominously called ¡°The Abyss¡±. ¡®Scales tip both ways!¡¯ Sam reasoned furiously in his head, ¡®I can tip them back!¡¯ He mentally closed the option to level his class; saving it for later as he decided a prison break was not the best time to ponder on it. What he had to do now was get out of this jail. Samael gathered himself and strode over to the body of the mean guard. Seeing a dead body in real life was completely different than seeing one in a game. There was no distance or separation between Samael and what was in front of him, which he could use to gloss over the fact that the thing lying on the ground used to be a living breathing person. It wasn¡¯t hard to empathise with the guard as a human, even if the man had only showed himself to be a violent thug. The pool of blood covered most of the corridor and Samael needed to tip toe round the edge to avoid stepping in it with his... ¡®Sandals?¡¯ Samael realised as he noticed he was wearing basic leather sandals for the first time. Just as he got to the other side, he looked around to give a silent farewell to the two men, when he noticed something around the waist of the body in front of him. It was a small pouch. ¡®Should I? Noooo...¡¯ Samael thought, as he kept staring at it. ¡®Well, might as well look right?¡¯ With little morals, Samael reached over and with one hand on the wall for balance, untied and grabbed the small pouch, then leaned back away from the blood. Feeling the pouch with his fingers, there were quite a few hard round objects inside and they made a nice ¡®clink¡¯ sound when shaken. Samael¡¯s {Karma Meter} remained unchanged, so he assumed it was fine. He pocketed the money pouch into his trousers. Adopting what he thought to be a stealthy pose, Samael began to walk down the corridor after Garren, whose trail of bloody footprints hopefully led to freedom. 06 - Hidden in the Crowd Around the bend he had seen Garren disappear into, the corridor carried on for perhaps another thirty meters until it transitioned to a set of stairs heading upwards. Ahead of him was well lit, as torches lined the staircase in a deliberate fashion, as if marking some sort of boundary. Padding past more heavy wooden doors, Samael arrived at the staircase and began to climb. Reaching the top, he found another heavy wooden door, this one intended to bar the way of anyone travelling up or down. A possible defence against prisoners such as him escaping, it was none the less left ajar and unlocked when he reached it. Samael listened quietly at the top of the stairs and then peeked past the door to see what was on the other side. It was just another corridor, one which was much more presentable than the one he had left. The stone walls were smooth, unlike their rough and jagged cousins below. The floor, although unadorned and made of the same stone, was clean, as though regularly swept and even the ceiling was without spider webs or grime. Cautious and incredibly high strung, Samael pushed the door open and stepped out. No one raised any alarm; Garren was not hiding behind the door, ready to stab him. He just stepped out and as quietly as he could, walked down the new corridor. There was a door on at the very end, along with a door half way down. As he walked by and came level to the first door, the sound of voices and laughter could be heard from beyond. Quickening his step, Samael did not tarry and reached the far door in no time at all. This one was also left ajar. Hearing no danger and pushing against it to get past, there seemed to be something blocking it from the other side. It was not locked Samael knew, as the door was ajar, there just seemed to be something that was obstructing it. With no other choice Samael pushed against the door as hard as he could, slightly frustrated as he felt unable to bring as much force to the task as he was accustomed. After a few moments the object on the other side began to give and Samael was able to open the door enough to squeeze through. The object he had rudely shoved aside in his quest for escape, turned out to be another recently departed guard, who had a blood red smile carved into his neck. ¡®Garren¡¯s handiwork no doubt¡¯ Samael thought, increasing his mental tally of dropped bodies that he should feel guilty about. ¡®Was it that easy to kill someone here? Emotionally and literally?¡¯ he wondered ¡®Though maybe he is just a psycho with the element of surprise.¡¯ It looked like Samael thankfully got no credit for this one, as there was no box nudging his mind to get his attention. Not stopping to rob this body, Samael stepped over it and found himself in a small alcove in the corner of a fairly large courtyard. A courtyard with several people walking through it! Samael ducked down, getting a little too close to the body for comfort. Luckily directly in front of him was a small walkway separating the alcove from the rest of the courtyard. A short decorative wall had seemingly kept anyone from noticing the corpse not 20 meters away. Samael felt a queer sense of respect for Garren, disgusted that he had killed someone, but commending it had been done with no one noticing. The people walking in the courtyard did not tarry or notice Samael¡¯s presence and were only interested in crossing from one entrance to another, deep in discussion. Shuffling over to the low wall, Samael peeked over it, looking for somewhere he could quickly dash. The courtyard was roughly a square and looked about 60 meters wide give or take. Two openings could be seen to the left and right sides from Samael¡¯s perspective. At its centre was an ornamental fountain that had no running water. Surrounding it were empty benches as the people briskly walked around them, appearing to have no time to waste in their bustle. Hugging the wall behind him, the walkway stretched the whole length of the courtyard. An overhang jutted out from the building and was held up by columns spaced along the low wall he was currently crouching behind. Feeling like he might draw attention to himself by jumping over it, and unsure what would happen if he was seen, Samael instead crept quickly along the walkway. He was unsure where he was going, but thought one of those openings was surely his best bet for escape, and the adrenaline furiously pumping in his veins needed him to do something. Ignoring the fear of someone yelling out suddenly, or the worry that any moment he would feel the grasp of a hand against his arm, Samael resolutely crept onwards. There were several more alcoves with doors in them which he passed, thankfully there were no armed guards standing outside. He didn¡¯t want to risk trying to open one of the doors either, for fear of finding one. Instead Samael carried on creeping along the walkway, eventually reaching the wall on the far side. The small group of people from before had left the courtyard, only to be replaced with another coming from the opposite direction. They were not guards on patrol, they had no armour or weapons and their clothes were a mishmash of styles rather than any kind of uniform. Samael waited until this new group was out of sight before stalking towards one of the openings. He was only a couple of meters away when he heard more voices and a new group appeared right out from where he was planning on heading. Samael froze as a woman in the group turned their head and glanced at him as she walked by. They held each other¡¯s eyes for a short moment, long in Samael¡¯s panicked mind, before she turned back and carried on talking with her group, as if nothing noteworthy had happened. ¡®She didn¡¯t care about me¡¯ Samael realised. Noticing he was still holding his ridiculous attempt at a stealthy pose, Samael stood up normally as he adjusted his thinking, as he now knew he wouldn¡¯t be attacked or arrested on sight. Before the new group had even reached the fountain, another even larger group emerged from the opening, chatting away as they passed Samael. Seizing the moment, he stepped out from the walkway and joined the new group, mingling with it until he was near the centre. He got a couple of glances, but nobody protested or asked what he was doing. ¡°Don¡¯t know what they¡¯re thinking!¡± He heard one voice say in a conversation behind him. ¡°Yea if they raise them any more I¡¯m guna have to start rationing!¡± another voice said in reply. ¡°How¡¯s Sally taking it? Another one on the way I hear, getting hard to feed them all I¡¯d wager!¡± The first voice continued, receiving a chuckle in response. ¡°We¡¯ll get by, we¡¯ll get by.¡± The second voice continued, before launching into a story about this ¡®Sally¡¯s¡¯ antics. The conversation felt surreal to Samael, in that it was utterly normal. Something he might have heard on a bus, or whilst waiting in the que of a supermarket. It was nice. His nerves relaxing and the fear of discovery lessening, Samael allowed himself to be guided by the group through and out of the courtyard, all the while accompanied by the banal chatter of the men and women surrounding him. Unfortunately, past the courtyard was no exit from whatever type of complex he was in. Instead Samael had moved onto a second bigger courtyard, one with a large group gathering in an impressive concourse outside a building with very grand architecture.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. The group he was walking with melded into this larger crowd. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something, still casually chatting with one another, which helped keep Samael¡¯s nerves down. After perhaps ten minutes of standing around, a large set of ornate doors opened in front of the group and a woman with rather ostentatious clothes stepped out, accompanied by numerous guards. As soon as the crowd saw her they began to call out, not in anger or applause, more in a multitude of questions, with many a voice asking the woman to fix various issues which afflicted their lives. The woman raised her hands high and the sounds of the crowd died down. ¡°People of Stradun!¡± She called out, ¡®Stradun, is that where I am?¡¯ ¡°Know that your prince hears your grievances, and sympathises with the burden of the common man....¡± ¡®Not enough to be here himself it seems¡¯ ¡°Our lands are under siege!¡± The woman continued, trying to put emotion behind her words, though sounding rather half assed to Samael. ¡°Your contributions are what hold back the shadows from your homes, every bit of coin spent to fight the darkness and ensure the continued peace and prosperity of this land!¡± ¡®Ohhhh they are complaining about taxes¡¯ Samael deduced, looking from the woman¡¯s fancy clothes, to jewellery incrusted fingers, then to the palatial building behind her. ¡®I guess it¡¯s the same everywhere¡¯ Samael cynically thought. The woman¡¯s next altruistic statement was interrupted by the sound of yelling from behind. As one, the crowd turned and saw multiple guards advancing on them, led by a guard in a marvelously fancy cape. Nervous mumbling broke out, as the guards swept around the mob of ¡®Commoners¡¯, their leader then having a quick exchange with the woman ahead. Dismissing the man, whose fancy cloak spun majestically around him, the woman turned back to the crowd. ¡°There has been an escape attempt by several of Stradun¡¯s dangerous criminal elements, leaving several of the guard injured!¡± ¡®Injured? Looked quite dead to me¡¯ Samael mentally added, his anxiety slowly returning as the authorities had discovered he was missing, in addition to their slaughtered men. ¡°This! This very situation is what we are trying to avoid! Your reasoned and fair contributions, along with the stout hearts and brave souls of the city guard are all that stands between order and chaos!¡± The woman continued, finding her passion as she milked the situation for every bit of political capitol she could. Her inspired speech continued for five minutes, to which she received a rousing cheer from the plebeians in front of her upon its conclusion. Samael was slightly dazed at how quickly and eagerly the crowd had eaten up the excrement spouted by the authority figure in front of them. Her job seemingly done, the expensively dressed woman waved to the crowd for several moments before retreating inside the grand building behind her. The doors closed with a thud, sealing the peasants off from the luxury found within. Not that said peasants cared, they happily started filing out back from where they had come from, their conversation less of complaint and more about the bright future that lay ahead of them. ¡®These people are effing clueless¡¯ Samael thought pityingly. Nevertheless he allowed himself to be swept along by them, out of the courtyard, through his original courtyard with the fountain, then onwards to a small square, at the end of which sat a large defensive wall with a gatehouse in the middle. At the square¡¯s entrance a series of guards waited, restricting the movement of people travelling through. ¡®Oh crap!¡¯ Samael thought, ¡®they¡¯re checking the crowd for me!¡¯ Slowing his walk to a crawl, he looked left and right for any escape route, or way to bypass the makeshift checkpoint. At this point a strong hand pushed him from behind followed by a terse ¡°Come on lad, your holding everyone up!¡± Unable to stop his forward momentum, Samael shortly found himself in front of one of the armoured men. Swallowing his guilt, Samael forced his face into a smile and uttered a timid ¡°Hello Sir, can I pass please?¡± The guard looked him up and down from behind his helmet, before waving him onwards and turning to the next person. ¡®...That was it? He didn¡¯t even check me!¡¯ Samael thought as he walked on by, his nervous guilt transforming into disbelief that he had not been caught, nor checked for any sort of papers or identification. Luckily a high pitched voice provided some understanding. ¡°Daddy, what are they doing?¡± A small child asked the man holding his hand. ¡°They¡¯re just making sure we¡¯re safe son¡± The man patiently explained. ¡°How? They¡¯re just looking at people¡± The young boy said. ¡°They are inspecting everyone to see their names.¡± The father replied in a tone seemingly used to answering many, many questions. ¡°One of the nasty men that escaped doesn¡¯t have one. They are making sure he doesn¡¯t get away.¡± Accepting this as an answer the boy nodded his head before asking why the walls were so high. The man sighed and began explaining this as the two walked over to a growing crowd at the side of the gate. ¡®Inspect? You can inspect people to see their name?¡¯ Samael learned. Utilising his {Instinctual Interface} Skill, Samael looked at a passer-by and thought ¡®Inspect!¡¯
Lowat Mercebel [Baker Lvl 7]
¡®Oh my god!¡¯ Samael¡¯s eyebrows rose in surprise ¡®That¡¯s a thing?!¡¯ Thinking back, he did seem to remember the construct telling him something about ¡®objects and other denizens¡¯. Looking at other people he began to inspect them as well.
Todd Smith Apprentice [Blacksmith Lvl 9]
Mathras [Magister Lvl 14]
Conrad Longarm Sergeant [Guardsman Lvl 25]
It was just like wearing some sort of smart vision glasses, feeding him information about whoever he looked at. ¡®Awesome!¡¯ thought Samael. When he was arrested he distinctly had ¡°NO NAME¡±, if that is what the guards were looking for, along with a face that no longer belonged to him, Samael realised he could make a completely clean escape, they would have no way of tracing him! With a skip in his step and a smile on his face, Samael followed the crowd as they gathered again near the gate. They were not trying to get out however; they were staring at a platform off to the side. On it was a block of wood and quite a few guards. Held between them, unable to move due to all the hands grasping him was a dirty and bloodied figure. Garren. At some hidden signal, perhaps prompted by the gathering in front of them reaching a certain size, the guards who held Garren thrust him onto his knees and put his head on top of the wooden block. The crowd fell silent, save for the muffled words unable to pass through the gag on Garren¡¯s mouth. The man in the fancy cloak stepped out, the same one who spoke to the well-dressed woman from before.
Jason Alencarr Guard Captain [Guardsman Lvl 60]
Jason was not one to mince words. ¡°Behold the Prince¡¯s justice!¡± He cried out, unsheathing his sword with a flourish. Turning towards Garren who still struggled against those who held him, Jason swept his sword down in a large arc and buried it in the wooden block. The patchy bald head of Samael¡¯s brief accomplice fell neatly into a wicker basket in front of the wood. The sound of the head hitting the bottom of the basket broke the spell of silence which held the crowd, and a roar of cheers erupted from it. ¡®These guys are fucking psychos!¡¯ Samael thought, as he looked around at everyone standing near him. Back on earth such a display would shock and disgust any reasonable person, but here these people lapped the execution up as an amusing spectacle. The sight of the boy from before cheering, as he sat on his father¡¯s shoulders, was probably the most shocking sight of them all. Amid excited chatter, everyone began to disperse and file through the gatehouse. In a daze Samael allowed himself to once again be carried along the crowd, as though he was a sheep in a flock. He stole one last look over his shoulder to see the body being carried off the platform. ¡°Goodbye Garren.¡± he said quietly, though without too much feeling, as he was swept beyond the wall. 07 - The Battered Helm Samael lost the comforting safety of the group once past the walls of the large complex, which he later found out was called the Citadel. Past the walls, multiple streets branched outwards, splitting the crowd as the people went their own separate ways. ¡®I¡¯ve done it.¡¯ Samael thought to himself. ¡®I¡¯ve escaped!... Now what?¡¯ He felt that he should probably keep following one of the larger groups that had split off, but having no idea where they were going, they might turn around and ask him why he was walking up their driveway. What he really wanted was a place to rest and think out his next plan, a place where he could relax after the pretty intense day he¡¯d just had, a place to find out what levelling up meant, and most importantly a place with food. ¡®What places have food and somewhere to rest in a medievalish fantasyesc world?¡¯ Samael asked himself rhetorically, ¡®Tavern¡¯s! Or inn¡¯s...¡¯ He wasn¡¯t quite sure on the difference. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the money pouch he had looted from the dead guard. Hunching over to protect it, he loosened the strings and glanced inside. There were quite a few copper coloured coins of a uniform size, as well as a couple of shiny silvers. Samael had no idea how much this was worth, though he thought it would surely be enough for at least one meal and a bed for the night. With his eyes on the lookout for a tavern, Samael began to wander. Close to the citadel, the buildings seemed to be mostly interconnected homes, squashed tightly together. Not that there were any poor vibes from them however, quite the opposite. Close to the citadel seemed to be the chosen location of the wealthy that weren¡¯t allowed inside. Gilded gates blocked off tiny courtyards in the front of each home, sealing off areas filled with sculptures and lush greenery, all compactly squished into the available space. Continuing to walk, the street he was on gently took him down a hill, the buildings either side seemed to get more spacious, at the cost of the quality of their facade. Only three or four hundred meters away from the citadel, the houses had devolved until they were nothing particularly special, but still well put together buildings of wood and stone. Keeping to the main thoroughfare of the street, Samael eventually came upon a large open section of the city. And it was jam packed full of stalls and people, an assortment of smells and sounds fought for his attention as Samael¡¯s wide eyes kept snapping to new things as he meandered through it all. Vibrantly coloured clothes hung next to stalls full of invitingly appetising pastries, which in turn were next to stacked cages of clucking and cooing chickens. There was meat, sizzling juicy meat which crackled and spat above an open fire. Amphora and bottles of wine were stacked behind a ludicrously fat man in a yellow turban, but there was no time to look as a hawker wanted Samael to try his ¡®extraordinary cure all elixir¡¯ and would not leave him be until he marched far enough away. The sound of a bang, followed by a cheer, caused Samael to turn to his left. A small crowd gathered in front of a stall, clapping as a woman made strange motions with her hands from behind it. Directly above the stall, around head height, a bright flame seemed to dance to the motions of the woman¡¯s hands. Enthralled, Samael joined the crowd around the stall, and as he got closer he could see the flame more clearly, it had the form of a small humanoid creature, less than two inches tall. Magic. Samael was seeing magic! The flame continued to dance along with the woman¡¯s movements. Every now and then the tiny form of flame would enlarge and detonate, disappearing in a flash of many colours, only to be replaced as the woman began her movements again. So enraptured by the spectacle in front of him, Samael almost failed to notice the brief sensation of something touching his side, just below his hip. Looking down casually, Samael was perplexed to find a hand in his pocket that was not his own. Yelling out in surprise, he grabbed at his money pouch through the fabric of his trousers. The hand withdrew as soon as Samael made a sound, and looking over his shoulder, Samael could just see the quickly retreating form of a young child, before it was lost in the crowd around him. Pulling out the pouch from his pocket, and ignoring the sound of tutting from around him, Samael was relieved to find the bag was still full and had not been switched. Chastising himself for letting his guard down, he stepped out from the crowd around the magic stall and carried on walking through the market, this time much more aware of his surroundings. His rumbling stomach wouldn¡¯t let him leave without some form of tribute however, and so Samael ended up buying a small pie from a sweet looking little old lady for three of the copper coloured coins. He hoped that was reasonable, none of the stalls displayed any prices and Samael felt too self-conscious to peer at anyone making a transaction. Munching on his pie, which was descriptively ¡®meat¡¯ flavoured according to the woman, Samael strolled away from the market and down one of the main roads leading off from the square. He had not travelled far before the buildings seemed to lose some of the respectability. A crack in a wall here, a smashed door there. The style of building had not changed, just the desire of the occupants to maintain it properly. In addition, an assault on Samael¡¯s senses seemed to have begun, for the smell of shit and body odour was increasing every second. Samael had to sidestep a lumbering man who wheezed his way through the crowd, the smell of his passing causing Samael to gag at the mixture of halitosis and foulness wafting over him. Samael turned around, and rushed back, retracing his steps until he was back to the market square. A sign post, pointing towards the direction he had come, informed him that way was ¡°Riverside¡±. The {Common Tongue} skill also seemed to affect the written word which was doubly handy. Making a note to avoid that area in future, Samael walked around listlessly before finally walking up to one of the stalls at the market to ask for directions to an inn. After receiving a suspicious and distrusting look, which lessened after he bought a bread roll for a copper, he managed to get some simple directions. Apparently Taverns and inns were mostly found around the gatehouses of the city, except the more pricey ones. Thanking the owner, and following their simple directions, Samael found himself stood outside a building called ¡®The Buckled Helm¡¯, only about ten minutes later. Ducking inside the door, Samael found himself in a large open area filled with tables and chairs, which had only a few patrons sitting on them at the moment. Against the far wall an older man stood behind a bar, pouring a tankard of something brown and frothy from one of the many barrels stacked behind him. High up behind the man, Samael noticed a battered old lump of metal that could charitably have been called a helmet at one point. Walking over to him, Samael caught the man¡¯s attention once he handed over the drink to a customer. ¡°Greetings, what¡¯ll it be?¡± The bartender asked. ¡°Hi. Do you have any rooms available?¡± Samael enquired, unsure what the proper process for this was. ¡°Yea we do, how long you staying?¡± ¡°Just for the night.¡± Samael replied. He had no idea what he wanted to do after today; he just wanted somewhere to rest for a while and maybe a nice comfy bed to sleep on. ¡°That¡¯ll be six coppers. I can throw a meal in there for two more coppers if you want?¡± Samael thought about it for a moment before agreeing, he was not quite so hungry any more after buying food in the market, but knowing he had a meal coming his way was worth two more coppers. Handing over the coins, Samael received in turn two wooden tokens, one large with the number seven written on it, the other small and carved with a circular hole. The bartender explained those were his room tokens and meal tokens respectively. ¡°Don¡¯t lose em.¡± The bartender warned. ¡°It¡¯s a copper each if you do. It¡¯s still early so your room will be available shortly; I just got to get it cleaned up first. Do you want a drink whilst you wait?¡± ¡°Umm yea sure.¡± Samael replied. Parting with another copper coin in exchange for a tankard of the frothy brown drink he had seen before. The barman disappeared behind the counter for a moment, calling for someone and Samael decided to go sit further in the room. There were a small group of men chatting away at one of the tables as he approached, they looked at him briefly as he sat down away from them, then continued their conversation. From the snippets Samael could hear, they were complaining about taxes, same as the people from the Citadel. Taking a sip of his drink caused Samael to scrunch his face, it was a lot stronger than any kind of beer he was used to but it was still good. ¡®Could have done without having bits in though...¡¯ Samael thought. Glancing around the room Samael¡¯s eyes were drawn to one of the walls, which looked to hold some sort of map. It was not a bird¡¯s eye, modern type of map. It was instead an artistic drawing and was titled ¡®Stradun circa 942 AE¡¯. He could just about read the place names from where he was sat. There was the citadel, at the top of the drawing at the crown of the ¡®High Quarter¡¯. Other areas of the city were the ¡®River Quarter¡¯, the ¡®Steel Quarter¡¯ and smallest was the ¡®Guild Quarter¡¯.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Based on the map and what he remembered of his journey, Samael could see that he had bought some food at the ¡°River Market¡±, and then strode over the ¡°Riverside¡± which was situated at the bottom right of the drawing. He was now near an entrance to the city, which bordered the river and steel quarters at the drawings bottom edge. Sipping his drink and committing the map to memory, Samael¡¯s study was interrupted by the tavern¡¯s door swinging open and a group of four older men and women stepping through. ¡°Well I think it was staged. It was too convenient.¡± One of the women was saying, clearly carrying on a conversation they must have been having for a while. The group headed straight to the bar as they continued their discussion. ¡°Rubbish.¡± One of the men replied. ¡°To think Lady Crane would arrange such a thing. I doubt she has a deceptive bone in her body!¡± ¡°Garth, if someone with a fancy title told you, ¡®you can breathe underwater¡¯, we¡¯d be fishing you out the river before breakfast.¡± Another man replied. Casually insulting each other, but in a friendly way, the group got some drinks and sat down near Samael and the first group. ¡°That captain had a decent swing on him though didn¡¯t he?¡± The sceptical woman said. ¡°I heard he¡¯s got {Sharpen Blades} and {Greater Strength}. That poor neck never stood a chance.¡± One of the men chuckled. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± A man who was already in the tavern asked of the new group. ¡°Something happen up at the Citadel?¡± ¡°Yea, you haven¡¯t heard yet?¡± The gullible man replied with a smile, eager at getting to tell a story. The group, as well as Samael who was shamelessly eavesdropping, then heard all about how the ¡®heroic¡¯ citizens marched up to demand an accounting of the higher tax rates. Then how the kind and selfless Lady Crane had eased their fears, warning of the dangers they faced and underscoring the importance that they, the people, had in stopping dangerous outlaws. ¡°Outlaws with enough power and influence to make an escape attempt, right in the middle of Lady Crane¡¯s speech!¡± the man finished dramatically. ¡°Is that so...¡± One of the men replied sceptically. ¡°And what outlaws might they be?¡± Slightly flustered that these men had not shared his fervour, the man telling the story stammered out ¡°Well err it was that fellow from riverside, the slicer fellow. Also some murderous vagabond that got into the city somehow. Killed some folks then attacked the guard when they questioned him. No Construct blessing either, filthy savage! ¡± ¡®Murderous vagabond? Savage?¡¯ Samael thought. ¡®That¡¯s probably me, but why am I murderous? Also is it a taboo here to not have a name or class?¡¯ No longer listening to the groups chat away, Samael finished his beer whilst thinking about his ¡®blessings¡¯. With a will, he pulled up the last message box from the construct.
Congratulations! You have gained enough essence to level up your class [Necromancer Lvl 1] Level Class? Yes/No
It seemed that he could level up his class. To do so required ¡®essence¡¯, which he had gotten when Garren had killed those guards. ¡®Was that how people levelled their classes? By killing things?¡¯ Samael wondered. ¡®It can¡¯t just be that though surely, there was a level 7 baker back in the citadel. Did he stab someone with a baguette to get those levels?¡¯ ¡°Samael! Room¡¯s ready.¡± The barman called out to him. He had not given his name and must have been inspected, ¡®Must be hard to maintain anonymity in this world¡¯ Samael thought. Standing up he walked over to the barman, who took him up some stairs behind the bar and showed him to a small and cosy room. There was no furniture except a bed, a trunk and a standing coatrack. After thanking the barman, Samael closed the door and lowered its latch. For now locking out the rest of this new world he had fallen into. The bed was fairly comfy Samael was pleased to find, after sitting on it and bouncing up and down a few times. It was much harder than he was perhaps used to, however compared to the cold stone floors he had been laying on lately it was a godsend. Falling backwards onto the bed and staring at the ceiling, Samael once again brought up the blue box which asked him if he wanted to level the class. ¡°Yes¡± he thought.
Congratulations! You are now a [Necromancer Lvl 1] You have been awarded a free stat point. Please select a skill from the three options below:
{Decaying Blast} Send forth a powerful bolt of necrotic damage, hastening decay. Living targets hit with this nefarious spell experience the horror of death whilst still very much alive.
{Reanimate Dead} Animates the body of the recently deceased, bringing it under the control of the caster. Corpses under the influence of {Reanimate Dead} deteriorate at a reduced rate.
{Enslaved Soul} Enslaves the soul of the target at the moment of death. This soul can then be summoned as a fearsome wraith to attack an enemies spirit
¡®Wow¡¯ Samael thought straightening up, ¡®I get to pick one of these?¡¯ Reading the descriptions again Samael tried to think what he would pick, if offered these choices in a game. Curiously he noticed that none of the skills/spells had any kind of mana requirement, ¡®Do I have to guess how much each would use?¡¯ {Decaying Blast} was the type of magic he would normally go with, it was damage dealing and he would not have to rely on anything being already dead. It didn¡¯t sound particularly pleasant though, would he have to watch things turn to mush in front of him? The Construct even described it as being ¡®nefarious¡¯. {Reanimate Dead} Seemed like your typical necromantic spell. Necromancers had dead things do their bidding for them; this seemed like the thing allowing that to happen. It still needed him to either kill something first before he could use it however, or stumble across something already dead. It seemed rather situational and could leave him defenceless in the wrong circumstance. {Enslaved Soul} looked rather interesting. It had the problem of needing something to be at death¡¯s door already, however once he had successfully cast it and enslaved a soul he would have a ¡®wraith¡¯ to call upon whenever he needed it. He was not quite sure what a ¡®Wraith¡¯ was, but it certainly sounded like the type of thing he wanted on his side. Samael was coming around to the last one {Enslaved Soul}. It seemed like both the most interesting, as well as the one that might prove to be the most useful. Provided of course he was able to actually find something to cast it on. Samael¡¯s mind hovered over choosing it, and was just about to accept when he felt another skill seem to... wiggle slightly in his mind. It was his {Karmic Meter}. Pulling his mind back instantly, Samael had the sudden realisation. This was not a game, this was his life. {Enslaved Soul}. The clue was in the name, if he chose this he would literally be enslaving another creature¡¯s soul. It sounded like something an evil person would do, and his {Karmic Meter} must have agreed. {Decaying Blast} also sounded evil, and was according to its description. Wanting to test if he could recreate the sensation he felt before, Samael hovered his mind over the {Decaying Blast} skill, once again feeling a ¡®wiggle¡¯ in his mind. It seemed {Karmic Meter} had another benefit to it which he had not realised. Knowing the karmic consequences of his choices would be incredibly useful in getting him back on the scales good side. He briefly wondered why he had not noticed anything before, when he had lost so much karma. ¡®It could be because I didn¡¯t commit the bad action, Garren did?¡¯ Samael theorised. Turning his mind back to the blue boxes, he focused on the {Reanimate Dead} skill, fearing he would feel another ¡®wiggle¡¯ and have to doom himself further by choosing one of three ¡®evil¡¯ skills. His {Karmic Meter} did not react at all however. ¡®Interesting¡¯ Samael thought, before reading the skill¡¯s description again. ¡®Maybe because I would be targeting the spell on an empty body, it is not considered evil?¡¯ Samael wondered. ¡®I would not be torturing or enslaving anything which the other skills implied, just moving around someone¡¯s old flesh suit?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s not a bad skill¡¯, Samael concluded, ¡®and there are plenty of applications to it¡¯. Samael also did not want to lose any more karma if he did not need to. With a thought, he selected {Reanimate Dead} as his first Necromancer skill and then brought up his status.
Status
Name: Samael Race: Human
Class: Necromancer Level: 1
Title -
Stats:
Strength 6 Intelligence 15
Agility 9 Wisdom 15
Endurance 8 Willpower 12
Constitution 6 Perception 9
Free Points 1 Karma -110
Skills
{Instinctual Interface} Rank: #N/A
{Common Tongue} Rank: #N/A
{Karmic Meter} Rank: #N/A
{Reanimate Dead} Rank: 1
08 - Reanimation Evaluation Inspecting his Status screen, Samael could see the additional skill at the bottom, which apparently started at rank 1. His Necromancer class also showed he was at ¡®Lvl 1¡¯ now, reflecting his recent change. On top of gaining a new skill when he had levelled, Samael also seemed to have gotten an extra stat point, which was currently ¡®Free¡¯ and which he assumed he could use to raise any one of his stats. Considering there was no immediate need at the moment, Samael held off on allocating it until he could make a more informed decision about where best to put it. What he was much more interested in at the moment however, was the fact that he had a spell! He could do magic! Or at least theoretically could. What he wanted to do now was try it out on something, though he was at a loss as to how. He needed a dead body after all, and finding one of those was bound to be rather problematic. The skill did not specifically say that it had to be a human body however¡­ just a body. That could include animals, such as rats and birds perhaps? There was bound to be a dead rat or pigeon somewhere in the city, if Samael looked hard enough. Brimming with excitement, Samael got up from the bed and swept out of his room. After double checking with the barman as to how he could get back up to his room, just flashing his token to any of the staff was enough, Samael walked out of the tavern and looked around for inspiration on where to go. To his left, a massive wall and imposing gate guarded one of the entrances to the city. Carts laden with wares entered the city, drawn by sad looking mules as they struggled to get their load through the muddy ground just inside the gate. Empty carts were leaving in turn, pulled by much happier looking beasts due to the lighter load. There were a couple more taverns around him, along with some warehouse which the carts moved from and to. Looking down at his sandals, and only pair of clothes, he decided not to head over in that direction and instead turned back the way he had come from the river market. This time however he went down side streets instead of avoiding them, keeping an eye on the gutters for something he could use, as well as an eye out for any kind of trouble. He had not searched long before he found his first dead thing; it was surprising how easy death could be found in an urban environment if you really looked for it. The body of a rat lay discarded amongst some detritus in a deserted side alley, away from any of the major streets of the city. It was missing a back leg, and some flesh in its side, probably from something chewing on it. Nevertheless Samael felt it was as good a target as any to try his first spell on. Concentrating on the body, Samael used {Reanimate Dead} for the first time, eyes locked on the rat in front of him. At the activation of the skill, a strange circle of green light, filled with equally green runes started spiralling around him. His hands moved of their own accord and flowed in some strange manner, touching various runes in some strange dance. ¡®This is fricking awesome!¡¯ Samael thought to himself. The process lasted roughly thirty seconds, of which Samael enjoyed the novelty of his hands having a mind of their own, as they continued in their rhythmic movements. He instinctually knew that he could break the spell before it was finished if needed, however the spell would fail and would have no effect on the target. After the thirty seconds were up, Samael¡¯s palms thrust forward towards the rat, and the green energy surrounding him flew into his hands, before firing off and hitting the rodent¡¯s body.
You have reanimated [Basic Rat Lvl 1]
Samael did not need the message to know this however. As soon as the energy hit the rat¡¯s body he could feel a connection to it with his mind. He could not feel anything from the rat itself, just the connection. After quickly checking to make sure no one had stumbled onto his light display, Samael crouched near the rat to observe it. It had not moved. Using the connection, Samael sent a command through it, just a basic one ¡®Stand up.¡¯ The rat¡¯s body began to move! It was not slow or lumbering like a zombie rat; instead it rolled over like it really meant it and quickly stood on its remaining legs. Samael flinched back at the rat¡¯s speed, before chuckling. It stayed unnaturally still as Samael observed it again. ¡®Walk Forwards¡¯ he commanded. The rat began hobbling forwards, having difficulty due to its missing limb and chewed out side. ¡®Stop¡¯ Samael commanded, causing the rat freeze mid-step. With a simple thought, Samael snapped the connection between them and the rat¡¯s body dropped to the floor unmoving. ¡®That was cool!¡¯ Samael thought to himself happily, ignoring the message from the Construct informing him of the lost connection. ¡®Slightly disturbing and morbid, but definitely cool.¡¯ It seemed that his {Reanimate Dead} skill did not repair the body to perfect form, if it had damage then that damage remained with the animated body. In the rat¡¯s case, this severely limited its movement due to the missing leg. What Samael wanted to try now was to find an animal with no wounds if possible, to further test what it could do. * A couple of hours later, Samael was leaning against a wall watching a rat unnaturally run back and forth in an alley. He had finally found a whole one which either died of disease or was poisoned. After testing multiple other candidates on the way, this one¡¯s mobility and speed were astounding. With just a thought and prod over the connection between them, Samael was directing the rat to run over things, dodge to the side, scramble up and around some of the rubbish in the alley he was currently in. He could get the rat to follow him at a certain range, patrol a set location, and even follow commands after a certain time limit had expired. If he could do all this with a tiny rat, then doing the same with a much larger body should hopefully be just as easy, and much more useful. There was one potential problem he seemed to find, and that was a slight draining sensation that was passing through the connection. It was miniscule, but after several casts of {Reanimate Dead} and a fairly long time commanding rat corpses to do tricks, he had noticed some part of him felt ever so slightly tired. It was difficult to discern, there was no meter or symbolic pool in his mind that he could use to easily measure what was happening, he just began to feel tired. Not physically or mentally tired, it was something else. He assumed what he was feeling was a type of mana drain from all the spell¡¯s he was casting, it appeared that simply maintaining his connection to the corpses he animated took some mana as well. Not having any kind of mana bar, or cost associated with his skills was unusual to Samael. It also made him a bit nervous about accidentally running out. Casting the spell seemed to drain his mana much faster than maintaining the connection. Wanting to test his mana, he cut the connection to the rat, causing it to flop to the ground mid run. He cast {Reanimate Dead}, then immediately cut the connection as soon as it formed. Samael repeated this, again and again. He lost count over 100, though he thought he got to around 120 until his final spell failed before it could complete. Swaying slightly from where he stood Samael rubbed his face with his hands. He felt absolutely awful; it felt similar to running a marathon, or finishing a three hour exam, even though he was fine both physically and mentally. Leaving the poor rat in peace, Samael made his way back to ¡®The Battered Helm¡¯ tavern. By the time he got there the sun was just about to set and groups of people in robes were wandering around setting fire to the torches in the streets, keeping the area well-lit for the night. It had taken Samael about 15 minutes to get back and the sense of tiredness he felt before was starting to recover. If he had to put a number to it, he felt about 10% of his mana had returned to him.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. The Tavern was much busier that when he left it, where before there had only been a few groups, now every table was taken and serving girls had to weave between patrons to deliver their frothy tankards. Walking up to the bar, Samael took out the small token with the circular hole and flashed it to the same barman from before. The barman took it with a nod then waved it at one of the serving girls, pointing at Samael. The girl replied with a nod and a smile, putting her tray on the side and heading into the back. ¡°Can I also get a drink?¡± Samael asked, putting a copper on the counter, which was quickly swept up by the man behind it with another nod. Samael didn¡¯t really want a drink; however he needed information and thought this the best way to get it. ¡°I¡¯m pretty new in town.¡± Samael said, trying to strike up a conversation. ¡°Any idea where a man might earn some coin?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t think of that before you came here? Pretty ballsy.¡± The barman replied, as he started pouring some frothy beer into a fresh tankard. Samael forced a chuckle before continuing. ¡°Yea, my previous plan fell through¡± he lied, hoping it sounded convincing. ¡°Got any ideas?¡± The barman looked at him for a moment. ¡°Not much going on around here for your kind I¡¯m afraid.¡± ¡°My kind?¡± ¡°Necromancer.¡± The barman explained, ¡°Not many folks around here want dealings with that magic.¡± ¡°Ohh...¡± Samael mumbled. ¡°It¡¯s not against the law in this city is it?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t think so, but you¡¯d certainly cause a scene if you flashed it about. You can do whatever you like outside the city though, for all the guards care. Just as long as you don¡¯t hurt nobody.¡± The barman explained, handing over the full tankard. ¡®Damn, lucky no-one saw me!¡¯ Samael thought. He was not that surprised there was some level of stigma against his class considering its closeness with death. ¡®It does still suck¡¯ he thought. ¡®How am I going to get any money?¡¯ The thought must have left a sad look on his face, as the barman pityingly gave him a last bit of advice. ¡°You might be able to find work in the guild quarter, they often work outside the city and someone over there might be able to find something for you.¡± ¡®It¡¯s a start at least¡¯ Samael supposed. Wanting to thank the man, he got out his pouch and slid another copper onto the counter. The barman just nodded with a smile and went to the next customer after pocketing the coin. A moment later the serving girl returned with a bowl of stew and some bread. She directed Samael to a free spot at a table to eat. Finding himself rather tired, he quickly finished the surprisingly nice meal before heading up to his room. Ensuring the latch was shut, he lay down on the bed without taking his clothes off and immediately fell asleep. * When Samael awoke he felt pleasantly refreshed, a nice surprise as it was not uncommon for him to wake up feeling like garbage. His mana seemed to have fully regenerated during the night and the tired ache he was feeling yesterday had disappeared. Taking his sweet time, he stretched contently as he got out of bed. His plan for today: explore the guild quarter. Turning back to his bed, he pulled out the money pouch and upended it onto the surface. The amount of metal that fell out had reduced quite a bit since he had first ¡®acquired¡¯ it. There were two silver coins and thirteen coppers left. Samael was a bit unsure on what the exchange rate between the silver coins and the copper coins were. For all he knew it might be two coppers to a silver, or a hundred. Gathering the coins back up into the pouch, Samael looked fondly around his cosy room, then lifted the latch and walked out. The barman behind the counter was different than the one before, he accepted the room token all the same and Samael left with fond memories of the place, thinking he would return if the guild quarter did not work out... and he still had some money left. Using his mental map of ¡®Stradun¡¯ that he had copied from the drawing in the tavern, Samael set off to find the guild quarter. * Arriving in front of a large imposing building an hour later, having got lost twice and asking for directions once, Samael stepped inside what he had found out to be Stradun¡¯s main guildhall. Inside was a fairly grand staircase leading down to a large gathering area. Large hearths were built into the walls at the sides and Samael could easily picture the roaring fires they would normally contain in the evenings. Similar to stepping into a hotel, one of the walls held a long counter, where a couple of bored looking clerks sat, with no one to attend to at the moment. A couple of groups dotted the hall but it was nowhere near busy. Walking up to the counter with a smile, Samael thought it best to just straight up say ¡°I¡¯m looking for work.¡± The clerk he spoke to glanced at his colleague and shared a look with them. Without moving his head or blinking, he then slowly looked at Samael from head to toe as if measuring him. ¡°Excuse me?¡± The clerk said, his tone indicating he had heard Samael the first time, but couldn¡¯t believe his ears. ¡°Err... I¡¯m looking for work?¡± Samael repeated unsurely, expecting a different reaction from the man in front of him. ¡°I think you have the wrong establishment.¡± The clerk responded, giving no further response. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what to say; don¡¯t you hand out quests to people?¡± Samael continued with faint hope. ¡°To member¡¯s yes.¡± The clerk responded, pointedly glancing at Samael¡¯s stubble and unwashed hair. ¡°Are you a member?¡± ¡°Err... No...¡± ¡°No.¡± The clerk repeated, as if that was the end of the conversation and Samael should just turn around and march out of the building right now. ¡°So how do I become a member?¡± Samael asked, ignoring the hint. ¡°You are invited.¡± Interrupted a voice from behind. Turning around, Samael saw a young man, kitted out in an impressive set of gleaming armour, with a deep red cloak trailing behind him. The man¡¯s face was less impressive, its childlike features set in a sneering expression, as his head was tilted back to look down his nose at Samael. ¡°And to be invited...¡± the man continued, looking him over in a haughty manner ¡°you need to have class.¡± A short giggle drew Samael¡¯s eye over the man¡¯s shoulder, where he could see an equally young woman in a resplendent gown. She was staring at Samael with a hand over her mouth, trying to contain her laughter. ¡°Class... Yes I¡¯ve got one of those.¡± Samael spoke in an even tone, not liking where this was going. ¡°Not your Construct class you halfwit!¡± The man sneered. ¡°I¡¯m talking about the ability to conduct yourself in society!¡± ¡°Right... I¡¯m just looking for work here pal.¡± ¡°This is the royal guild house of Stradun. Not some flea bitten backwater that will employ any ruffian that tramps through its doors! Especially if their blessing reveals them to be depraved death worshipping wretches like yourself!¡± ¡®Whoa, that escalated quickly.¡¯ Came Samael¡¯s surprised thought, as the man¡¯s words rocked him backwards slightly. The man looked over his shoulder, as if trying to catch his companion¡¯s reaction, smiling at the sight of the still giggling woman. ¡®Ahh¡¯ Samael realised, ¡®the discrimination is real in this place. And he is trying to impress by being an asshole.¡¯ A blunt rebuff to his query about work would not have been bad, but insulting him to try and score points with a woman. That rubbed him the wrong way. Samael used his ability to inspect the man, thinking turnabout was fair play and making sure to look him over in the same way the man did to him earlier.
Thomas Alswyth Swordsman Lvl 7
Samael gave this ¡®Thomas¡¯ a smile that did not reach his eyes, before uttering in a tone with as much menace that he could muster. ¡°A man shouldn¡¯t be so flippant when dealing with one who commands death, Thomas. He may find himself summarily dealt with.¡± ¡®Christ that was cheesy!¡¯ Samael cringed internally. It had the effect of pissing Thomas off though. An angry scowl replaced the sneer on his face, as he dropped his pompous attitude and leaned forward. ¡°You are literally level 1.¡± The man said, disdainfully, ¡°I do not know what you have been doing since your blessing ceremony, most likely hiding your perversion from the entire realm, but considering you cannot even deal with your own stench, I shall not worry.¡± ¡°Whatever.¡± Samael said, rolling his eyes at his failed attempt at intimidation. Knowing he wasn¡¯t going to get anywhere, he turned to leave the guildhall, but was blocked as the young fop in shiny armour stepped in front of him. ¡°I did not say you could leave.¡± The man said, holding a gauntleted hand out. ¡°You want me to stay?¡± Samael queried, raising an eyebrow and getting fed up with the encounter. ¡°Apologise.¡± The man demanded. ¡°What for? Samael asked incredulously. ¡°Not knowing your place in the world.¡± Came a reply with a sickening smile. ¡°... Get out of my way, now, or else.¡± Samael said, trying to keep his voice calm, even though he spoke through clenched teeth. ¡°Or else what? There is no need to pretend you can do anything.¡± The young fop said smugly. Too smugly for Samael. ¡°I can do this.¡± Samael said unthinkingly, before activating his {Reanimate Dead} skill, causing the glowing green circle and runes to appear. Thomas recoiled back in horror, letting out a shrill and pitiful scream, destined to ruin any chance with the woman behind him. Samael experienced a brief moment of satisfaction before an incredibly powerful set of hands clamped onto his arms from behind, breaking the spell and dissipating the light. Looking over his shoulder, Samael saw his own reflection from a highly polished steel helmet less than a foot from his own face. The satisfaction suddenly didn¡¯t seem worth it anymore. ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± The armoured man demanded. ¡°Nephew, what is the meaning of this disturbance!¡± ¡®... Nephew?¡¯ Samael tensed up, before using inspect on the armoured man behind him.
Henry Alswyth Hero of the Wall Swordsman Lvl 60
¡°Oh shit.¡± 09 - Into the Woods Samael was not locked up back in the prison, luckily enough. Instead he found himself outside the city walls, staring back at the gate he had just been unceremoniously thrown out of. The man¡¯s uncle had wasted no time in handing Samael over to the guards, and after a few whispered words into their ears, the guards had wasted no time in branding him a disturber of the peace, using forbidden magic in a public area, and of course being an abhorrent immigrant. Apologising for being unfamiliar with their customs tipped them off about that last charge. What had been a flippant action, meant to remind the fop that he was a real person by embarrassing him in front of the woman that he was trying to impress, had drastically shifted his situation. The guards had explained in no uncertain terms, that if he was found within the principality of Stradun after today, he would face the prince¡¯s justice. It seemed quite extreme, he had not lost any Karma and so the Construct didn¡¯t think his actions were at all evil. ¡®I got too comfortable¡¯ Samael thought, chastising himself as he stood up to his ankles in the mud and watching the carts ride into and out of the city. ¡®I¡¯m not on Earth, and that wasn¡¯t some stuck up shopper at his old store.¡¯ Samael had felt so good this morning, like he had finally found his bearings, and was not prepared to be treated like dirt. He had found some pride and was immediately punished for it. Pride is a sin indeed. His remaining money had not been taken from him, however since he had been ¡®banished¡¯, Samael was not quite sure what he would be able to spend it on. He had been informed his name had been added to a ¡®list¡¯, then warned what would happen if they found him after his grace period of one day. Beheading seemed slightly draconic to Samael, and since all a guard would have to do is ¡®inspect¡¯ him to find out his name, it didn¡¯t really seem worth the risk to sneak back into the city, or be anywhere in the principality at all. As one of the empty carts rolled and splashed by, Samael ran up to it through the mud, waving his arms in the air to catch the attention of an old man at the reins. Seeing how he wanted to get out of the area as fast as possible, asking for a lift might help get him away. ¡°Excuse me! Sir!¡± Samael called out as he got closer. Looking over at Samael from under a wide brimmed hat, the old man smiled in greeting as his cart slowed down. Then as he looked towards Samael, his gaze turned from quizzically friendly, to cold and distant, his smile fading from his weathered face. ¡°Sorry.¡± The old man said abruptly, turning his eyes back to the road ahead and cracking the rains to speed his cart along once more. The old man pointedly avoided Samael¡¯s gaze as the cart zipped by him. Turning to the next cart, which was thirty paces or so behind the old man¡¯s, the woman driving it gave him a harsh and unwelcoming look before he even had a chance to call out to her. ¡®Inspect.¡¯ How useful it was to see someone and instantly make a judgement about them based on what you saw. Samael felt he should be angry about being instantly judged, instead he just felt tired. His class was ¡®Necromancer¡¯ after all. From what he had gathered so far the class certainly seemed to come with a lot of unscrupulous implications. If he came across a random stranger and was given a bit of information telling him that the person dealt and worked with death, he might want to avoid them as well. ¡°Hey!¡± a guard shouted from the gate, ¡°You keep harassing people and we ain¡¯t going to wait till tomorrow!¡± Giving up on receiving any kind of help from these people, and not really wanting it at this point either, Samael stared out at the land opposite the city. The muddy road continued out in a fairly straight line and Samael could see it stretch on for miles before disappearing around a small hill in the distance. On either side of the road, smaller paths branched out into many different fields, bordered by dry stone walls. There were patches of trees here and there, however these small copses were dwarfed by a massive forest which Samael could see, stretching out from about a mile to the right of the road. Samael could just see the white peaks of a mountain range far in the distance, with the same forest ending at its base. Samael had nowhere to go right now, nowhere he needed to be. His responsibilities were to himself and himself alone. The idea of travelling along the road did appeal to him, however he was not sure what he hoped to find at the end of it, also from what the guard just said, it sounded like they might come after him and would likely find him if he stuck to it. Alternatively he could go and live in the woods. He would have to use his (Non-existent) survival skills and channel his inner Bear Grylls to survive on his own amongst nature though. Choosing between tamed farmland with probable death and wild forest with potential death, the wild forest won out. After walking along the road until he could no longer see the gate, Samael quickly stepped off the road and walked through several fields to enter the tree line. * ¡®Come on, just a little closer!¡¯ Samael pleaded. He currently had an arm raised above his head with a fist sized rock in his hand. His eyes were locked on the form of a small rabbit, which hopped around about ten meters away from the bush that Samael was currently hiding in. It was late afternoon and Samael¡¯s lack of wilderness training had left him wandering around without much direction for most of the afternoon. He was not quite lost; he made a note of the position of the sun when he entered to get a rough idea on which direction would take him away from the city. In his wandering, Samael was on the lookout for three things: Water, Food and Corpses. The first two were obvious survival requirements; the third was a potential way to help defend himself, in case any wild animal wanted to use him for their own survival requirements. He had first spotted the rabbit hopping around and happily munching on things in a small clearing beside some bushes, about two hours into his search. It had immediately dashed away once it saw him, however the walking morsel was the first bit of sustenance he had seen, and Samael had come up with a cunning plan to hunt it. Thus he was hidden in a bush with a big rock, ready to smush the rabbit when it returned. It took nearly an hour of impatiently waiting before the rabbit poked his little nose back in the area, though it was slightly off from where Samael had expected. Rather than the couple of meters away he was hoping for, it had popped up on the other side of the clearing. Samael had raised his arm, rock in hand, as soon as the rabbit had bounced into his line of sight, and it was starting to get sore. Giving up on any hope that it might hop any closer, Samael tossed the rock with all his might, flinging it on a direct path towards the bunny. The stone flew straight and true, sailing through the air towards the walking meal. The rock then fell and ploughed into the dirt not even half way to the target, causing the rabbit to bolt at the noise. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake!¡± Samael exclaimed, as his dinner disappeared into a thicket. He rubbed and stretched his arm, trying to get the unexpected ache out. He had spent his childhood throwing things at other things, he was a good shot. His recent display was not characteristic of the old him at all, though it was perhaps characteristic of someone with only 6 base strength. Samael did have one free stat point still; he had been saving it and was tempted to dump it in his physical stats then and there. The only reason he didn¡¯t was the nagging worry that it could still be better used elsewhere. Until he actually made a decision however, it would sit unused and he would get no benefit from it. Abandoning the idea of eating rabbit today, Samael untangled himself from the bush and left the clearing to carry on wandering. * As the sun began to hide behind the horizon, the light beneath the forest canopy dropped significantly. Samael was starting to stumble over tree roots and it began to dawn on him that there was another survival requirement he should have been looking for. Shelter. There were no artificial lights in the woods, and he had no way of creating one himself. Once it was dark, it was truly dark. Especially as the foliage above him would block any kind of starlight or moonlight.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. As Samael looked around however, there were no obvious caves he could use, or overhanging rocks he could camp beneath. There was just the wood of the trees, along with the greenery of bushes here and there, which somehow made do with most of the light being blocked by the canopy above them. It was luckily not a time of the year where Samael would have to worry about the cold, ¡®assuming this world has seasons.¡¯ He mentally added. The sky had been blue for most of the day and so there hopefully was little risk of rain either. Samael therefore felt the only thing he needed right now was somewhere he could rest his head for the night, hopefully catching a bit of sleep and energy for tomorrow. He had not drunk or eaten anything the entire day, and his brain was semi-occupied in ignoring his stomach¡¯s aches of protest, as well as a faint headache that seemed to be coming on. It was just uncomfortable at the moment, but Samael was concerned it might start to be a real problem tomorrow if he didn¡¯t find anything. After looking for perhaps ten minutes, Samael thought he found a decent spot whilst traipsing though a dense thicket of trees and bushes. It was a nice patch of dirt, nestled between the roots of a particularly large tree, covered with ancient and knobbly bark. It even had some partial cover above him, as thick bushes surrounded and protruded over the patch of dirt, meaning he had to weave under and between the shrubs to even get to the spot. His clothes would get filthy, but considering there was not likely to be a hotel just around the corner, Samael was determined to make do. * The sun had fully set and the forest was now truly dark. There were occasional streaks of moonlight that found a gap above him to shine through; however these occasional streaks hardly illuminated anything. They even made the atmosphere a bit worse, as they made the dark areas seem much more deep and menacing in the unwanted comparison. Samael couldn¡¯t sleep. He was tired to be sure, as well as starving, dehydrated and generally uncomfortable. He was also frightened. The woods were scary at night, and the forest he was in now was particularly so. Once he had stopped stomping around with his clumsy and noisy feet, the forest had seemed to come alive. There had been the odd bird call before, it hadn¡¯t been ominously silent, but he was now hearing the rustling of creatures scurrying along the ground. The sound of branches creaking and moaning in the light breeze, which he before had ignored, stood out in his mind, as wind caught the leaves and blew them gently back and forth. There were distant calls of unknown animals and the menacing hoot of an owl rang out periodically. Most disturbingly were the heavy footfalls Samael began to hear just after he put his head down to try and get some sleep. These were not the light hops of the rabbit he had seen earlier, or the careful tread of a person. Instead they sounded like the weighty stride of a four legged creature that did not care how much noise it made, like it did not have to worry about being something¡¯s prey. Samael had done nothing except try and lie very still, breathing as lightly and with as little sound as possible. The creature had still come closer, the footfalls getting louder, until the very bushes Samael was hidden behind began to shake, as something moved its branches back and forth. Huddled in fear, Samael preyed to anything that could hear him to not end up as that things dinner. After several moments, the rustling of branches had ceased and the footfalls got quieter, the creature having moved away. His prayers were either answered, or he was never on the menu. It was a fretful night. * Samael awoke with a start to the sight of the morning sunlight beaming through the canopy above, confused at where he was, until the memories from the previous day caught up with him. Sitting up against the tree trunk, Samael stretched his aching back, hearing several pops as some of the damage from a night spent huddled on the ground was reversed. He was still tired from a broken nights rest, as well as very hungry. His mouth felt dry and his mind a touch foggy as his body screamed at him that it needed water. Steadying himself and crawling out from under the bushes, Samael went to go find it, this time mindful that he was not alone. * A few hours later Samael heard roaring. It was not the sound a beast might make if in a foul mood and venting its rage. This was a constant roaring, a powerful sound of Mother Nature. Hoping against hope, a thoroughly dehydrated Samael increased his steps to reach the top of a gently sloping hill. The roaring sound increased, and through the trees he could see a cascade of white, as water tumbled over and around rocks, flinging itself into the air as it descended an impressive set of rapids. Quickly descending on the other side of the hill, Samael made a quick cursory glance around as he walked, to make sure no predators stalked the water source. In no time at all he was at the bank of the treacherously fast flowing river, on his knees and cupping some of the refreshingly cool liquid in his hands. Samael was aware that he should probably decontaminate it somehow, but seeing as he had no way of doing so, and the fast flowing water was quite the opposite of some smelly stagnant pool, it was the best he would get and chugged it down. Then he went back for more, then some more, and another, until his stomach felt uncomfortably full. Sitting back on the smooth damp rocks beside the river, Samael just rested for a moment, feeling content as he stared out at the churning water ahead of him. ¡®I should definitely stay close to this thing.¡¯ Samael decided, as long as he did, he could remove water from his list of problems. ¡®I wonder if this is the same river that feeds the city?¡¯ Samael thought. He hoped it was, then waded into a less turbulent section, dropped is trousers and took a huge dump. He then washed himself clean as he watched it float downstream. Walking slightly upstream, Samael removed his clothes and started to rub the dirt out of the fabric, and the grime off his own body. He felt amazingly refreshed afterwards. As he sat on the river bank, waiting for his clothes to dry in the midday sun, Samael spotted something interesting about the river, or rather, some things within the river. At a particularly vicious point in the rapids, Samael repeatedly caught flashes of silver as fish flew out of the water to jump up the river. Samael smiled as he realised he might be able to get more out of this river than just water. ¡®How could I catch them though? I don¡¯t have a rod or a net...¡¯ Samael puzzled, before coming up with a potentially ingenious idea * Thirty minutes of searching later and Samael had found what he needed. In his hand he held a large branch about eight feet in length. At one end, the wood forked out, splitting into two separate branches about two feet in length. Picking up his shirt, Samael put its arms through the forked branches, tugging it to make sure it was secure. In his hands he now held a makeshift net! Eager to try it out, he stalked over to the riverbank nearest the jumping and hopefully tasty fish. Samael stepped out onto some rocks by the rapids, causing the fish to stop jumping as they sensed his movement. Keeping very still and crouching comfortably on the rocks, Samael waited. It did not take long before the fish got used to his unmoving presence and started jumping again, net ready and waiting, it only took ten minutes before he was able to successfully scoop one out of the air and fling it back to dry land. Cheering at his success, Samael hopped back across the rocks and strode over to his well-earned catch, just in time to see a dark shape dash out of the trees in front of him. Having nothing to hand except the branch he was holding, Samael thrust the bottom end forwards unthinkingly, feeling a meaty thud as it connected with the snout of a snarling hound like creature. ¡®Inspect!¡¯ Samael quickly thought, panicked but still maintaining himself, as he kept the branch pointed solidly at the creature
Wild Dog Lvl 4
¡®Ok that¡¯s not so bad¡¯ Samael thought, as the dog snarled at him some more. Backing away slowly it quickly glanced back at the fish flapping on the river bank, before snapping back to glare at Samael. ¡°No, that¡¯s mine!¡± Samael spoke out loud, not prepared to give up his meal. Especially as this was no friendly pooch down on its luck, nor something he could befriend. The body of the dog was roughly at knee height, with the head coming up to his thigh. It was fairly mangy and epitomized the word ¡®wild¡¯. Samael could see the creature¡¯s ribcage and it looked to have seen better days. ¡°Go! Hragh!¡± Samael shouted, trying to scare it off. The creature was not so easily dissuaded and nipped at the butt of the branch being waved in its face, dodging Samael¡¯s thrusts to keep it back. The two remained at an impasse for several moments, before the wild dog managed to duck under the branch and clamp its jaw onto Samael¡¯s calf. Swearing at the pain as he felt the teeth sink into his leg, Samael lifted up the branch and jabbed it as hard as he could into the beast¡¯s neck for a solid hit. The dog held on to his leg, snarling as it tried to yank Samael off his feet. Angry and in pain, Samael kept thrusting down at the dog, aiming for the creature¡¯s neck which it couldn¡¯t protect as long as its jaw was latched onto his calf. Even without much strength, he felt something squish in the creature at the same time the branch snapped. Letting out a wheezed yelp, the dog unlatched its jaw from Samael and started to cough. Stumbling backwards, it tried to shake off the feeling of having its windpipe crushed from a lucky hit. Not knowing he had already won, Samael dropped his broken net and picked up a large and smooth rock from the ground beside him, before smashing it down on the stumbling beast¡¯s head.
Congratulations! You have killed [Wild Dog Lvl 4] Essence Absorbed
Congratulations! You have gained enough essence to level up your class [Necromancer Lvl 1] Level Class? Yes/No
Congratulations! You have gained enough essence to rank up your skill {Reanimate Dead} Rank 1 Rank Skill? Yes/No
10 - The First Hunt Samael fell down onto the pebbles by the river, breathing heavily as he stared at the blood pooling from the fatal wound on the creatures head. This was his first true kill in this world. In any world for that matter, he was not a hunter on Earth and although he was no vegetarian, any meat he ate had stopped moving long before he came across it. There were moral ramifications of killing, though Samael had trouble feeling bad, especially as his leg hurt like hell. Samael rolled up his trouser leg and looked at the wound beneath it. Teeth marks and the outline of the dog¡¯s jaw could be seen running from the back of his calf, round towards his upper shin. Many of the teeth had punctured the skin and a faint amount of blood leaked out from the wound. A nasty looking bruise started to cover the whole area as well. Overall the wound itself wasn¡¯t actually that bad. From the pain, Samael had expected to find his leg shredded and gouged, the minor wound he had revealed instead was a pleasant surprise. There was nothing he could do about potential infection however. Thinking it better that letting the dog¡¯s slobber remain on the wound, Samael stood up and hobbled over to the river, washing the wound and wiping it with the shirt retrieved from the end of his one-time net. Whilst cleaning the wound, Samael mentally brought up the messages from the Construct. Killing the dog had apparently netted him the opportunity to level up his class, and also rank up his {Reanimate Dead} Skill. Not wasting any time, Samael immediately agreed to the level up.
Congratulations! You are now a [Necromancer Lvl 2] You have been awarded a free stat point.
¡®Well that was slightly disappointing.¡¯ Samael thought. ¡®Where are my new skills?¡¯ The only benefit he could find from levelling up his class was the single skill point it awarded. ¡®Sure that¡¯s nice¡¯ Samael admitted to himself, ¡®but having an actual useful spell to defend myself with would be a godsend right now!¡¯ Lamenting his missing skill, Samael mentally turned to the other message to upgrade the rank of {Reanimate Dead}, however when he did so he found that it was... missing. His {Instinctual Interface} skill made summoning the boxes a trivial task, but he was not having difficulty with this, the message was just gone. ¡®The box had said I gained enough essence. Is this essence shared between my class and skills? A resource to allocate to one or the other?¡¯ Samael theorised. It made the most sense. If essence was a currency and he spent it all on his class level, he must not have enough left over to spend on the skill rank. ¡®Learn something new every day I suppose...¡¯ Returning to the body of the dog, Samael still felt an excited buzz at the thought of what he could do now. Activating his {Reanimate Dead} Skill, Samael¡¯s hands began moving as the green runic circle of light surrounded him. Thirty seconds later a bolt of green energy hit the wild dog.
You have reanimated [Wild Dog Lvl 4]
Samael could instantly feel the connection between them as the string that now formed in his mind pointed directly at the body in front of him. Unlike the rat however, Samael had been able to sense the drop in his mana when he used the spell. The connection between himself and the corpse was also slightly thicker, and Samael sensed that it was slightly more expensive to maintain than with the small rodents. ¡®It is much bigger, maybe it needs more juice to remain active?¡¯ Samael thought. Giving his reanimated minion a mental nudge, the body in front of him instantly stood at attention, awaiting further orders. Samael smiled at the sight, he wasn¡¯t alone in the woods any more. Limping over to look at what started the encounter, Samael saw that the fish, which had been flapping on the river bank, had stopped moving quite so vigorously, but still looked like it was breathing in short sharp bursts. Using his newfound capacity for killing things, Samael knocked its head against a rock to put it out of its misery. This was not a sad moment for Samael however, he was too hungry for that. Instead he was wishing he had lemon to squeeze over it after finding a way to cook it! There was a brief message from the Construct when the fish died, however apparently killing a [Trout lvl 1] did not provide enough essence to level anything. * After trying and failing to start a fire, Samael sat overlooking the river, trying not to be too squeamish as he tucked into some sushi. Behind him Samael¡¯s pet pooch was gazing out into the trees, commanded to keep an eye out for any dangers. It had been several hours since Samael had cast the spell and he felt like perhaps twenty percent of his mana had been used in maintaining the reanimation. His original plan was to permanently keep the dog as his guardian, until he found a better one, however the mana drain complicated things. There was nothing stopping him from just re-establishing the connection once his mana had returned as far as he knew, however it did mean he would have to plan to be without its help for part of the day. Throwing away the parts of the fish too mangled to be of use, Samael set out to head further on upstream, his pet thrall close behind. It was early afternoon and Samael wanted to see if there was any type of shelter to be found that was more comfy than his last chosen spot in the dirt. Once found, he planned on braking the connection to the body of the wild dog and re-establish it before dark. That way, he could have some protection and a look out for when he slept. * The river snaked its way through the forest, meandering gently around the hills, when it wasn¡¯t crashing violently over rocks. Samael kept tight to the river¡¯s bank, keeping an eye out for anything of note. Travelling along the water source, Samael saw many more woodland creatures than he had the previous day. Rabbits, foxes, deer, they all fled as soon as they saw Samael hobbling along next to a fearsome predator in a sad looking state. Samael ignored them all for now, intent on finding some sort of safe space before doing something adventurous. After roughly two hours of walking, Samael decided to stop and give his bitten and throbbing leg a rest. There was a slight overhang of rock by the river, not enough to provide true shelter, but enough to keep the rain off if the still sunny weather turned bad. Dropping down to sit on a small patch of moist grass, Samael let out a groan as the weight came off his leg. After a quick inspection, it didn¡¯t look infected, though the bruising was quite impressive. After a brief 5 minute rest, Samael climbed to his feet once more and looked over at his reanimated thrall. It stood still, unnaturally standing on all fours as though taxidermied, instead of sitting down like a normal dog would have. Checking to make sure there were no threats creeping up on him, Samael cut the connection, causing the body to flop over. Luckily no one saw him have to subsequently lunge to catch the body before it could fall into the water. Samael made a face as his hand touched the cold coat of the dog, thoroughly washing his hands in the water afterwards to get any flecks of blood off. It was late afternoon and Samael had about sixty percent of his mana left. He hoped it would only take an hour or two to recharge, and whilst he waited, he spent his time finding another forked branch to try and recreate his earlier success with the net. * When nightfall came, Samael was fully charged mana wise and only still semi hungry. It had taken about an hour to fully recover his mana whilst he spent the time thrusting the net into the water to try and scoop out some dinner, having only minor success.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Casting the spell once more, Samael re-established the connection and ordered the wild dog to sit on a vantage point and guard him from any dangers that might threaten him. Hoping this command was enough for the thrall to understand and obey, Samael wrapped his arms around himself and lent back to fall asleep, the soothing sound of the water masking the night time noises which had kept him awake the previous night. * Gently opening his eyes to the morning light, Samael was pleased to find he was not mauled to death in his sleep. Feeling the connection in his mind, he could still sense the wild dog sitting on the same spot he had left it, the string connecting them still extracting mana. Samael felt slightly tired in that strange way, and he estimated there was about thirty percent of his mana left after the thrall¡¯s night time vigil. After getting up and checking the immediate area was safe, Samael broke the connection once more to recharge. Having no other pressing matters to attend to, he once again began his amateur fishing, having slightly more success this time in the early morning and netting another level 1 trout. Samael spent another hour and a half resting, in which his mana recovered and his soaked shirt dried in the sun. Then with plenty of the day still to go, Samael reanimated his dead dog and strode off into the woods, taking care to memorise landmarks so he could find his way back. Samael was curious to see if he could hunt anything with his new pet, maybe bagging himself another level if he found something good. There was still the issue of not being able to cook anything he found of course, though Samael decided to cross that bridge when he came to it. * Carefully and gingery, the deer strode between the trees, sticking to the path it knew would lead to water. Every snap of a twig or crunch of a leaf made its ears twist around. Too much noise and the deer would pause its movement and turn in the direction, trying to see any threats before they got close. The water held life but also dangers. Predators stalked the water, hunting and killing. Many snaps. Many crunches. The deer snapped its head around to see a predator charging it! Running out from behind a tree to the side. The deer leapt away. It would run. It would live. There was a path away from the threat and it would take it to escape. Disaster! Another predator stepped out ahead, blocking the new path. A mighty leap! It sailed and flew, kicking the new predator in its head in passing. The path ahead was free. The deer would live! * ¡°Argh!¡± Samael yelled as the deer kicked him straight in the face. The plan had walked flawlessly up until that point. His thrall had chased the deer down the path and Samael was waiting to block it and hurl a rock down at its head. Instead of stopping in surprise like he had been counting on, the animal had chosen to try and jump over him, using his face as a springboard to do so. Samael fell to the ground as the undead dog raced after the deer, not receiving any commands to stop. ¡°Yup. That¡¯s guna bruise.¡± He said to no one, rubbing his forehead. The graceful sounds of the deer and the crashing menace of his mindless pet chasing it disappeared into the distance and Samael was left alone. Or so he thought. Upon hearing the sound of hurried footfalls, Samael barely had time to turn around before a great mass of muscle and teeth was upon him, turning him from hunter to prey. Yelling out loud, Samael struggled to keep the snarling biting face away from his own, pushing the grey fur of the creature away with one arm, whilst thrusting back the creatures muzzle with the other. ¡®Help!¡¯ Samael¡¯s panicked command reached out. The beast twisted and turned its head, trying to bite Samael¡¯s arm and face in turn and winning in the struggle. It was too strong and Samael could see the teeth getting closer as he felt its hot breath against his skin. A figure dashing in from the distance ploughed straight into the creature, knocking it off Samael, and engaging it in a vicious and deadly fight. As fast as he could, Samael crawled away and stood back up, once on his feet, he stared at the fearsome grey wolf which was in a brutal fight with his reanimated dog. Hearing howl¡¯s echo across the woodland, Samael turned around to see in the distance a wolf pack dashing towards him through the trees. Not having a better idea in the millisecond he had left, Samael ran to the nearest tree and began to climb. It was a thick one with few branches close to the ground but he managed all the same, motivated by the sounds of jaws snapping shut close to his feet. Once high enough, Samael sat panting against a branch, observing the sight below him. His own dog was still in a fight with the wolf from before, completely outmatched by a creature twice its size but persevering as only a mindless undead thing could do. The rest of the wolf pack gathered around his tree looking up at him with hunger. After a few moments of searching for a way up to him, the pack split off, leaving two behind as the rest went to help their pack mate. Outnumbered and outclassed, Samael¡¯s undead dog faced gnashing teeth from all sides. Its flesh was slowly torn off, along with a back leg, then one of its forelegs. Still it tried valiantly to fight on, snapping at any wolf that approached it from the front. Several of the wolves had many bite marks and scratches on them, but none were at death¡¯s door. Perhaps thinking the dog no longer posed any danger, one of the wolves stepped in range to finish the fight. ¡°Bite its neck!¡± Samael yelled out, both vocally and through the connection between them. Unable to disobey a direct command, the dog lunged forwards, using its remaining back leg to launch itself towards the wolf in front of it, ignoring any kind of defence in favour of an all-out last attack. Surprised, its target was unable to dodge in time and the dog managed to lock its jaw around the wolf¡¯s neck. Howling in pain, the wolf tried shaking the dog loose as its pack mates rushed forwards. The literal death grip of the dog¡¯s jaw did not relent however, even when the other beasts ripped its body apart, tearing its torso away to leave the head still clamped onto the now whimpering wolf. The largest one, the wolf who jumped on Samael and started this whole thing, used its powerful jaw on the remaining head, crushing it and causing the connection in Samael¡¯s mind to snap.
Your reanimated [Wild Dog Lvl 4] has been slain.
¡®Thanks¡­¡¯ Samael thought, not really needing the notification when he could see his former dog spread out all over the ground in front of him. It seemed it was not ripped apart in vain however, the wolf that it had clamped onto was now lying on the ground, a ferocious gouge had been taken out of its neck, spilling its blood all over the ground. After several moments the beast stopped twitching, its pack mates whimpered and nuzzled at the now unmoving corpse.
Congratulations! You have killed [Wolf Lvl 4] Essence Absorbed
Congratulations! You have gained enough essence to rank up your skill {Reanimate Dead} Rank 1 Rank Skill? Yes/No
Samael dismissed the notifications, instead staring intently at the dead body in front of him. He saw his chance and after bracing himself against the tree, began to cast {Reanimate Dead}. His limbs moved to cast the spell, thankfully not unbalancing him and causing Samael to fall. After thirty seconds the green light shot out of his hands and struck the fresh corpse on the ground in front of him. Its pack mates jumped back at the light, before looking at Samael up in the tree, several of them snarling. Samael ignored them however, as he felt the connection in his mind form with the corpse. Looking with hope at the dead creature in front of him, Samael gave it its first command. The larger wolf had returned to nuzzle at its fallen comrade¡¯s side, mourning its loss. It was therefore totally unprepared for when its former friend and ally rose up suddenly and tore open its throat. So complete was its surprise that rather than fighting back, it backed away from the now walking corpse in front of it, as the rest of the pack mates yelped and backed away from Samael¡¯s new thrall. The large wolf collapsed onto the ground, not making a sound, as if it was unable to process the impossible betrayal that had occurred against it. Unsure what was happening, the pack seemed unwilling to fight and were distressed enough that they had turned from a deadly hunting force into a collection of scared cubs. With their leader dead, and the fright of their former pack mate turning against them, the wolves scattered as soon as Samael¡¯s new thrall charged amongst them. The wolves beneath Samael also decided against staying, loping off after their pack into the woods. With relief flooding his body, Samael allowed the notifications from the Construct to enter his vision, as the sound of wolf howl¡¯s faded into the distance.
Congratulations! You have killed [Alpha Wolf Lvl 5] Essence Absorbed
Congratulations! You have gained enough essence to level up your class [Necromancer Lvl 2] Level Class? Yes/No
Congratulations! You have gained enough essence to rank up your skill {Reanimate Dead} Rank 1 Rank Skill? Yes/No
11 - The Camp Samael stared down at the gore filled floor of the forest beneath him. Bits of his old dog were scattered everywhere in variously sized chunks, and the fallen body of the pack leader lay slightly to the side, vicious red scores marking its once glossy coat. His new reanimation padded back to stand in the center of it all, still as a statue. Thankfully, although the surroundings looked horrendous, it hadn¡¯t started to smell bad yet. Looking at his messages, Samael was reluctant to wait and immediately thought ¡®Yes¡¯ to the notification asking him if he would like to rank up his {Reanimate Dead} Skill.
Congratulations! Your {Reanimate Dead} Skill is now Rank 2 Choose one of the below skill enhancements: ¡¤ Reanimation mana cost reduced by half ¡¤ Reanimate an additional corpse ¡¤ Increase all attributes of reanimations by 1
¡®Well that is interesting.¡¯ Samael thought, ¡®Reducing the mana cost would lower my potential downtime where I have to break the connection to recharge. If those wolves came at me at the wrong time I would have been done for. ¡®Having more bodies to throw at potential enemies would be nice, however If I have mana problems now it would be crippling maintaining two connections with no discount. The last one improves all attributes of reanimations? Plural? That could be incredible, but only if I have more corpses to apply it to first.¡¯ Coming to the conclusion that having a reduced cost was his best option for now, Samael chose it and instantly felt a change to the connection between him and his current reanimation. It was still there, just as thick and strong as when connected to the dog, however the mana cost had significantly diminished. After spending essence to rank up his skill, Samael was pleased to find that he apparently still had enough essence to level his class. In addition, another notification had popped up letting him know that he could also rank up his skill again.
Congratulations! You have gained enough essence to level up your class [Necromancer Lvl 2] Level Class? Yes/No
Congratulations! You have gained enough essence to rank up your skill {Reanimate Dead} Rank 2 Rank Skill? Yes/No
As the benefit of leveling his class seemed to be only one extra stat point, Samael barely hesitated before deciding to rank his {Reanimate Dead} skill up once more.
Skill rank cannot exceed class level. Increase class level to unlock rank up.
¡®Well that¡¯s a kick in the teeth¡¯ Samael complained to himself. ¡®Why give me the option in the first place?¡¯ With a skill rank up denied to him and no cause to hoard his essence, Samael chose to spend what he had on his class. At the minimum it would allow him to further rank up his skill when he gathered enough essence, and there was the chance that he might be able to learn a new class skill.
Congratulations! You are now a [Necromancer Lvl 3] You have been awarded a free stat point.
¡®Nope to a new skill¡¯ Samael thought disappointingly, ¡®just the additional stat point, same as before.¡¯ He had still not spent the other two from his previous levels. Hanging onto them and not allocating them was starting to feel wasteful. He had planned on waiting until he could better decide on where to spend them, being almost torn apart caused him to re-evaluate, as a bad decision might be better than no decision at this point. Wanting to double down on improving his mana, Samael put one of the stat points into intelligence to increase his overall capacity. The other two were assigned to his wisdom stat, to improve his mana regeneration. After the changes, Samael felt a shiver run down his spine, but that was it. He could still feel the mana getting drawn out of him through the connection, the drain had not changed at all and it was hard to tell if his mana pool was diminishing any slower. Samael chose to hope it was. ¡°Status!¡±
Status
Name: Samael Race: Human
Class: Necromancer Level: 3
Title -
Stats:
Strength 6 Intelligence 16
Agility 9 Wisdom 17
Endurance 8 Willpower 12
Constitution 6 Perception 9
Free Points 1 Karma -110
Skills
{Instinctual Interface} Rank: #N/A
{Common Tongue} Rank: #N/A
{Karmic Meter} Rank: #N/A
{Reanimate Dead} Rank: 2
¡®At least I¡¯ve made a bit of progress¡¯ Samael thought, though he felt it was difficult to feel too pleased with himself. He was after all still hiding up a tree. After not seeing, or hearing any dangers, Samael climbed down and stood next to his new reanimation. It had a couple of scratches down its flank and what was left of its neck was rather unpleasant to look at, however apart from these injuries it was rather undamaged. Walking over to the alpha wolf, Samael knelt next to it and looked it over. There were more scratches and marks over its body, it had been fighting the dog from before its pack showed up, however the neck wound was a bit smaller and the neck itself was much less missing. It was also much bigger than his current reanimation. Standing up and facing the pack leader, Samael¡¯s arms started moving to touch the green ethereal runes, as he activated {Reanimate Dead} once more. When the green bolt of light hit the alpha wolf, the corpse behind him slumped down as a new connection was forged. It felt stronger, more powerful, than the previous one. Not drastically so, but a certain step up in mana cost at least. Not enough to offset the massive gains his skill rank up gave him however. Commanding the wolf to stand, he put it through several movements to test there was no excessive damage to the body. Finding none, Samael instructed it to patrol the area and protect him whilst he turned his attention to the body of the other wolf and the mess of the dog on the floor. If this was a game there would be a sparkling halo around both remains, and when he interacted with it, he would be able to pick up some loot. The corpses on the ground were most definitely not sparkly, but Samael still wanted to get something for his troubles. The dog was a lost cause. It was spread out all over the place in the dirt, there was also a slight smell now that Samael was closer. Enough to let him know of something very un-fresh nearby. The wolf on the other hand, despite the scratches and blood stains, still had a rather warm looking pelt. There was also potentially meat to be found underneath it all. ¡®How to get it¡­¡¯ Samael asked himself. He had no skinning knife to cut it off, and so his eyes looked around for inspiration. They fell on the pointy end of a bone, one of the dog¡¯s which had been snapped off above the creatures paw. Wanting the fur more than the distaste for what he was about to do, Samael reached down and picked up the detached paw. ¡°Focus, don¡¯t think about it.¡± Samael said to himself as he knelt down next to the body of the wolf.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°It¡¯s dead, it can¡¯t feel anything. Focus¡± Samael mumbled to himself out loud, as he grabbed the head with one hand. With the bone he began to stab at the fur in measured amounts around the remnants of the neck, piercing the fur and flinching with every thrust. Moving on to the creatures front, he kept stabbing, slashing and hacking away, trying to improvise in a task he had no real clue how to do properly. With hands getting progressively bloodier and a tool getting more and more blunt, Samael finally ripped and tore off the coat from the mass of muscle and bone beneath. Despite his higher than average base willpower, there was more than one moment where Samael had to stop to gag at what he was doing. ¡°So much easier seeing someone else do it.¡± He said to himself. It was late in the afternoon by the time Samael had finished his butchery and there was still enough sunlight for him to hold up and examine his pelt. It was uneven and rough at the edges, a tear in the middle left a sizeable hole and although the furry bit was nice and soft, the other side was wet and unpleasant to touch. ¡®I should probably hang this up to dry¡¯ Samael thought. Deciding that any meat from the wolf would have to be eaten once cooked, and lacking the ability to make fire at this time, Samael left the rest of the corpse for nature to take care of, and began to head back towards the river. As he walked, his new and much larger re-animation padded around him, keeping an eye out for any threats to its new master. * Samael spent the next few days wandering slowly up the river. He had fallen into a routine of catching fish in the morning for breakfast, exploring up the river until he found a good spot to rest, then catching some more fish for his evening meal. The alpha wolf that he had reanimated guarded him at night as he slept, then spent an hour or two in the morning fully dead so that Samael could regain his mana. The rank up to his skill had drastically reduced the downtime where he had to wait without a guardian. Never the less, that hour or two were still rather nerve racking for Samael and he decided that when he next ranked up his {Reanimate Dead} skill, he would reduce the mana cost again if he could. The other two options were so useful, but if he was attacked in that small window where he was vulnerable he was screwed. The pelt he had recovered from the other wolf had dried fairly well and Samael was comfortably using it as a blanket for when he rested. When he was trekking about it became a make shift poncho, only requiring the hole in the middle to be widened slightly. There was a slight funky smell that came off the pelt, leading Samael to think he might have missed a few steps when he made it, though overall he was quite happy. Samael stroked the outside of his poncho as he stepped along a small path he had found, when wandering around in the woods near the river. He was on the lookout for any kind of permanent shelter when he had stumbled across the small woodland path, most likely used by animals wanting a drink from the river. Until he found some way to make fire, Samael had decided against killing any of the larger animals for food. If he couldn¡¯t cook it, he couldn¡¯t eat it and eating the raw fish he was currently doing was enough cause for worry. Samael brushed aside a branch and had to stop suddenly. In front of him was an object quite out of place among the greenery and foliage around him. A tent. It was made of dirty white canvas and had a triangular flap facing Samael that was currently closed. In front of the tent were the blackened remains of a campfire surrounded by a mess of objects strewn about the site ranging from snapped tools and torn fabric to many pieces of broken bone The tattered remains of another tent lay beside the first, flattened and trampled into the dirt it had been pitched upon. Samael crouched down after a moment of taking in the scene. With a mental nudge, the wolf which had been padding along beside him darted around the camp, commanded to attack any beast or creature it found. The wolf circled the camp several times and Samael could tell there was nothing to be found, based on its lack of a reaction. Eyeing the tent, Samael commanded the wolf to stand in front of its entrance. Once he had the mass of muscle and teeth between him and any potential danger, Samael walked into the camp, stepping over the detritus until he stood behind the wolf. ¡°Hello?¡± Samael called out. ¡°Is anyone there?¡± Silence. ¡°I¡¯m coming in.¡± Samael said loudly, and by ¡®him¡¯ he meant his protector, sending the wolf forwards to nudge the entrance. Poking through the tent flaps with its muzzle, Samael saw the wolf look inside. ¡®If anyone is in there¡­ erm howl¡¯ Samael commanded. From the tent, a strange noise emerged as the wind from the wolf¡¯s lungs rushed straight through the wound in its neck. ¡®Holy shit!¡¯ Samael thought, his eyes going wide. ¡®Someone is in there!¡¯ ¡°Come out with your hands up!¡± Samael called out. There was no movement or sound from the tent, except the whistle of air escaping through his guardian¡¯s neck. ¡®Stop making a noise¡¯ Samael commanded. The sounds from the tent ceased and Samael stepped closer until he was right behind the wolf. Reaching out he grabbed one of the flaps, then lifted it up quickly while partly ducking behind his guardian. No one jumped out at him, Samael couldn¡¯t even see anyone. Rising up, Samael glanced around the tent and his eyes were drawn to a figure lying on its side on the bare uncovered ground beneath the canvas. The figure was covered in brown leather, which might have been armor at one point, however it now appeared as a tattered mess. The figure was covered in wounds and it was hard to tell in some places where the flesh ended and the leather began. ¡®Inspect!¡¯
Jason Brevenworth Prospector Lvl 14
¡®Is he alive?¡¯ Samael wondered. ¡°Hello?¡± he said loudly to no reaction. The man¡¯s feet was near the entrance of the tent. With one of his own feet, Samael kicked the man hard in the shin. A feeble groan emerged for the far side. The man¡¯s body shifted slightly, but he uttered no words and stopped moving after a moment. ¡®Definitely alive¡¯ Samael stated to himself. Stepping into the tent Samael crouched down next to the figure and started shaking his shoulder. ¡°Come on man, wake up.¡± From inside the tent, Samael could see the wounds much more clearly, not only that he could smell them, as the stench of rot permeated the trapped air. At the man¡¯s front, Samael could see a hand pressed firmly against the stomach region, held despite the seeming lack of consciousness. In the man¡¯s other hand, it gripped a very stained and soiled object that looked very much like a sword. ¡®Better not still have a hold of that when you wake up¡¯ Samael thought and began to prise it from the man¡¯s grasp. The fingers began to give, before they suddenly tightened. The sword swept upwards from where it lay on the ground and traced a path towards Samael¡¯s head. Quickly ducking down, Samael gripped the man¡¯s sword hand, stopping it pivoting towards him. Despite his lack of strength, the man was so weak Samael found it quite easy to do so. Looking upwards Samael saw a pair of wild and frightened eyes staring at him. Below those eyes, the man was breathing raggedly through a pair of clenched teeth. ¡°Who¡­ are you¡­¡± The man managed to utter between breaths. ¡°My name is Samael, I just stumbled across your camp¡­ or what¡¯s left of it.¡± Samael added ¡°What happened here?¡± ¡°Goblins.¡± The man uttered, before Samael felt the pressure against his hand stop, causing the sword to fall back to the ground. ¡®Did he just say goblins?¡¯ ¡°Did you just say goblins?¡± Samael repeated his thoughts. ¡°Attacked¡­ Me and my team¡­ mountains. Do you have a healing potion?¡± The man asked, looking with hope at Samael. ¡°Sorry, no.¡± Samael said apologetically, looking at the man with concern. ¡°Can you walk? I can try and get you to the city?¡± The man seemed to smile. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can.¡± He said, wincing as he looked down at his stomach, loosening his hand slightly and causing the smell of rot to intensify. Through the gaps between the fingers, Samael saw that a large slice had cut through the leather armor and into the man¡¯s stomach. The hand was needed to stop his insides from becoming his outsides. The sight and smell caused Samael to dry heave. Jason seemed to take this in good stride and chuckled morbidly, though doing so seemed to cause him quite a bit of pain. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡± Samael exclaimed once he recovered. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do to help.¡± ¡°Not a healer are you?¡± The man asked, before staring intently at Samael. His eyes widened before uttering a single word with fear ¡°Necromancer¡­¡± ¡°Yea, not very popular in these parts.¡± Samael said awkwardly, not knowing how to apologize for his class. ¡°You want to help? You don¡¯t turn me into one of your puppets!¡± Jason said loudly. With hidden strength, the man released the hold on his sword and grabbed the pelt around Samael¡¯s neck, pulling him down. ¡°You swear right now that you won¡¯t!¡± ¡°I swear, I swear!¡± Samael said, not in fear of the man, but in fear the man might hurt himself if he didn¡¯t calm down. Releasing the pelt, Jason¡¯s hand dropped down to his side, his breathing increased as though he had just finished a race. Samael said nothing for a few minutes, waiting for the man¡¯s breath to stabilize. ¡°What happened to the goblins?¡± Samael asked when he judged it was safe to do so. ¡°Ran off back to their camp probably¡­ we stumbled into them, Fletcher and Calvin went down before we knew what was happening. Three of us got back here, but they followed¡­ ¡°Fought them and escaped into the woods, killed those that followed me and hid. When I made it back here they were all gone, as well as the bodies¡­ The potions we brought with us smashed or stolen. No healing¡­¡± Jason stopped talking and they both remained silent for several moments. Samael was unsure what to say, there was nothing to be done. ¡°I¡¯m a dead man aren¡¯t I?¡± Samael chose not to answer, with the stench of rot surrounding them they both knew the answer. Any attempt to deny the truth and offer false comfort would sound hollow the moment it left Samael¡¯s lips. ¡°I want you to do it.¡± Jason said suddenly. ¡°What?¡± Samael exclaimed, already knowing what the man meant. ¡°I can¡¯t do that!¡± ¡°Yes you fucking can.¡± The man growled through his clenched teeth. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting in this tent to die for over a day. You¡¯re here. There is even essence in it for you. Just give me proper funeral rites and burn my body. That¡¯s all I ask.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t kill someone!¡± Samael said feebly. ¡°What kind of necromancer are you?!¡± Jason exclaimed, hissing at the pain. ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t make fire.¡± Samael said looking for an excuse. ¡°Sparkwand, in my pack.¡± The man said, gesturing with his head at a backpack nestled in the side of the tent. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what that is¡­¡± Samael said limply. ¡°Gods above.¡± Jason exclaimed. ¡°It¡¯s a stick. You put mana in it. It makes sparks. ¡°We both know I¡¯m dead. You can either come up with more cowardly excuses to let me die in agony over the next day or two, or you can grow a pair of balls to go along with that class of yours and do what needs to be done. What¡¯s it going to be?¡± Samael was unsure what to do. Euthanasia sounded like a good option to end needless suffering, but that was when thought of as an intellectual exercise. When he had to do the deed, it seemed different. The man stared intently into Samael¡¯s eyes, conveying his need and begging for his torment to end. Samael nodded, and felt like he made the right decision upon seeing the relief appearing on Jason¡¯s face. With a mental command, Samael ordered his wolf to step inside the tent. Jason¡¯s eyes snapped over to the beast which suddenly appeared. ¡°What the fuck is that?¡± He yelled, squirming and shouting out in pain. ¡°It¡¯s my reanimation. Stay still, this won¡¯t take long.¡± ¡°Use the fucking sword you idiot!¡± The man shouted. ¡°I don¡¯t want to get fucking mauled to death!¡± * Samael stood outside the tent, a sword was held in his hand with blood dripping from its tip. His wolf prowled around the campsite, keeping an eye out for dangers as Samael eyed the messages in front of him.
Congratulations! You have killed [Prospector Lvl 14] Essence Absorbed
Congratulations! You have gained enough essence to level up your class [Necromancer Lvl 3] Level Class? Yes/No
Congratulations! You have gained enough essence to rank up your skill {Reanimate Dead} Rank 2 Rank Skill? Yes/No