《Gur-dun: Grey's Selection.》


 Chapter 1 - The office of Mr. Grey

    The pain burned through me. Large chunks were ripped and torn from me. I tried to writhe and scream in agony even as I was held still and silent in an inky blackness. A brief endless moment of this torment existed before the calm of the darkness surrounded me. Slowly a new pain began to slice and cut into me, driven by precise fine lines of torment, a subtle pain compared to the violent gouging that came before.


    Then, release¡­calm¡­peace¡­


    The ache of my torture finally ebbed away and I found myself in a small grey room. Grey walls, dark grey carpet, with a small grey man situated behind a dark wooden desk. The desk and the rim of his glasses were the only color in the room. Grey hair, grey eyes, and a grey suit. All his short form was just differing shades of gray.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have much time, so I¡¯m going to try and go through this quickly and tell you as much as I can, this is obviously not an ideal situation.¡±


    The grey little main rubbed the bridge of his nose as he stared at me, his voice hinted at frustration and disgust.


    ¡°I¡¯m an afterlife advocate, when people who die fall outside the normal rules, I¡¯m supposed to figure out how to process their next life, within the rules, in the best way possible.¡±


    The idea that I was dead should have caused a flash of fear or laughter or any number of emotions, but it was just a fact, no more exciting to me than up or down. My calm acceptance of death and rebirth said clearly something fundamentally was wrong.


    Tapping the grey folder in front of himself, the little main continued.


    ¡°When you die, we measure your performance in life based on whatever Benefits you selected, whatever Penalties you experienced, and how well you reached your Goals.¡±


    Tapping more aggressively at the folder he continued.


    ¡°Free will exists so if a Benefit gets screwed up because of someone acting up, well that¡¯s how it goes. We keep track of that and keep aware of it in your measure.¡±


    Waving his arm the grey little man continued, ¡°Born to the rich but your parents gamble away the money? Well, that Benefit becomes a Penalty, we are aware of this. Your life is measured, even in that regard.¡±


    Flipping open the file folder he sorted files into multiple stacks. I glanced at them as well as I could but the writing on them was odd and unreadable. The three stacks he built were grossly uneven, two large stacks and a middle stack of only a few thin sheets.


    Pointing to the largest stack he explained, ¡°Goals determine how well you do in life,¡± moving to the smallest pile, ¡°Benefits are your rewards for your previous efforts at life,¡± and the final pile, ¡°While Penalties create difficulties to overcome.¡±


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.Again the little odd man rubbed the bridge of his nose then shook his head as he continued.


    ¡°Almost every part of your previous life was screwed up. Benefits became Penalties, your Penalties became worse, and your Goals were balanced according to your original Penalties and Benefits. In short, everything which could have gone wrong did.¡±


    I tried to raise a feeling of disquiet, of anger, or frustration, but I felt at most apathetic over the entire situation. I was as bland in emotion as the color scheme of the room.


    ¡°Worse, someone put an unsupervised intern in charge of reclamation and when the skewed numbers came through, meaning you should have had an advocate right from the start, they just looked at your Goal score and blithely continued on with the process and started ripping your memory out like you were a failed soul bound for a low-end reincarnation.¡±


    Somewhere these words pulled a small shadow of feeling, a sense of injustice and anger, but it was a pale reflection of real feeling.


    ¡°Worse, since your Penalties were all off the chart, even the meager showing you made towards your Goals would have awarded you massive Benefits in your next life.¡±


    My focus on the conversation started to drift, the bland grey world I found myself in became blurred and soft. The sharp color of the brown desk starting to flex and blend into the shadows and carpet.


    ¡°This throws everything off, I did the best I could for you, with your memories of yourself mostly ripped out, I had to select all your Goals, Penalties, and Benefits. I had to balance everything the best I could within the rules, pushing for you the entire time, but it wasn¡¯t easy, and it frankly wasn¡¯t even remotely fair.¡±


    Shoving all the papers into the folder the grey man placed his hands on the desk bracing against the desk before presenting the verdict.


    ¡°I picked a universe where the mechanics and rules are clear. Your memories of yourself were cut away, personality and self, though the memories of your world will stay. I balanced these such that your memories count as a Penalty since your moral code and self-perception as a human won¡¯t work in your new life. You won¡¯t be human, but I picked a race which comes with potential Benefits if you can bend things your way. I did the best I could on your Goals, but sadly I had to take the worst Penalty I could find to balance out the blatant rule bending I was doing¡­I can¡¯t tell you your Goals. Good Luck.¡±


    As the room started to fade away I could see the little grey man with his head resting on his hands softly weeping.

 Chapter 2 - The Birth of an Uncomfortable Fact

    After the grey room and the little grey man, the first new thing I could remember was a drum. I was warm, safe, and a drum beat a gentle rhythm of comfort. How long this lasted I don¡¯t know. The passage of time was blurred with the drum and the gentle rocking. Part of my difficulty with time was that I drifted in and out of consciousness, tiring quickly and then slipping into dreams.


    My initial waking was filled with terror, then my wits quickly returned with my rebirth. I felt horrible as I thought of Mr. Grey and what he had selected, the agony he expressed saying clearly what he thought my current life would be like. But after days of comfort, warmth, and the gentle beat of the drums, I lost my terror.


    When things changed, I barely noticed the difference at first. The drums beat faster.


    Eventually, the rhythm of the drums accelerated and pounded, the beats tripped and slammed over each other, a syncopation of chaos cutting through the previous pattern. Then came a roaring scream filled with agony and effort, then the warm ripping sound of wet leather tearing.


    With a sudden jolt, I was shoved downward.


    It was only as the wetness splashed away from my body and the large clawed hands cupped me was I able to understand what had happened. This was my birth, and it was not an easy one for my new mother. The only part that didn¡¯t fit was the drums. I thought for a moment it was my mother''s heartbeat, but it couldn¡¯t be since I heard two loud drums not the single steady double beat of a heart.


    My new mother stood over me and gently picked me up with her large clawed hands. While vaguely humanoid in body shape, no one would mistake her for a human. A tall green body with arms that could touch the ground without hunching, far longer than her legs. Long thin arms roped with corded muscle, large bulbous joints around elbows, fingers, and knees, which contrasted starkly with the wide bulky neck and shoulder muscles which seemed to be mounds reaching nearly to her ears. Her stomach was distended and extended in front of her in a huge potbelly, possibly from pregnancy, possibly from fat. Two sharp green ears extended from the sides of her head and rotated forward to bring to bear on my form. Tusks jutted from her mouth even as her lips were closed, her jaw was square, wide, and hinged oddly with large muscles framing her face.


    Even given the monstrous and inhuman appearance it was obvious that she was a sentient being. Beyond the clear expressive green eyes, there was also the crude hide clothing which covered little of her form which denoted her intelligence.


    Bringing my face closer to her own she gently rubbed the knuckle of her clawed hand against my face. The soft caress against my cheek came with a wide grin full of sharp teeth it stretched across her head seeming to connect her ears with a yellow and white toothy maw.


    ¡°Gur-Dun.¡±


    Soft and gentle, it was the only thing she said.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Event Start!</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>Tel-duth forest troll naming ceremony!


    The Tel-duth forest trolls are an ancient race which has become nearly extinct. Each child born undergoes the harsh naming ceremony. Upon survival, the given name will be your official name.


    Requirement: Survive.


    Reward: Official Name ¡®Gur-Dun¡¯, translation - ¡°Son of Suffering¡±


    Failure: Death


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The information for this ¡®event¡¯ was odd. Not just that this information existed and was given to me; that was odd enough. No, the longer I tried to focus on the effect the more confusing it became. None of the words were in a language I understood, each symbol was odd and unfamiliar, but focusing on a word had the meaning brought to mind as if I had simply let my attention slip from something I had known all along. The ¡®window¡¯ wasn¡¯t in front of my eyes, my field of view was completely unobstructed, my mother''s gentle smile and tear-streaked face were perfectly legible.


    Mother sniffed, stroked my face gently one more time, then closed her eyes as she turned towards one of the corners of the room. With my mother turning me to face the wall I could see from my vantage point cradled in my mother''s arms the large stacks of badly butchered meat. Four carcasses pressed against the wall, legs crudely tangled with ripped open bellies. I could see that another corner also had corpses, fewer than the stack my mother currently faced.


    With a horrendous roar my mother tensed and threw my body at the wall legs first, the impact ripped up my body, my weak newly formed bones shattering. Excruciating agony tore through my body. I could see shards of bone pushing through the thin skin of my legs, one of my feet had twisted in my landing and pointed in an odd direction. Unlike a human baby, my body was not thick with a cushion of baby fat, I was lean, boney, and now broken.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Even as the agony tore through me and I started to drag myself towards the corpses I tried to understand my mother''s actions, but more so my own actions. I had no urge to cry out, instead, everything in me said silence was important. The only thing more important than silence was the meat stacked against the wall.


    Once I reached the meat my instincts demanded action and my mouth opened wide as I chomped down on what appeared to be the cloven hoof of a pig. My sharp teeth and strong jaw sheared through the fur, bone, and muscle in one loud crunch and I chewed and swallowed as quickly as I could.


    Beyond the sounds of my gluttony, I heard the roar of my mother behind me as a sibling was born.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>New Skill Learned!</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    [Troll Regeneration] (Novice 1) - Trolls are well known as creatures with hearty recuperative powers only stopped by fire. When well-fed trolls have been known to survive even lethal wounds.


    Higher levels of [Troll Regeneration] can strengthen bones, improve muscles, and provide other increased survival adaptions. Hidden synergies are available.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>New Skill Learned!</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    [Improved Metabolism] (Novice 1) - The ability to consume and process large amounts of food is a vital adaptation which can keep a traveler moving even in the harshest environment.


    Positive effects - Food consumed is more quickly absorbed by the body. Accelerated recovery from the effects of hunger. Reduced chance of experiencing the negative effects of the status [Over Full].


    Negative effects - Increased penalties from the status effect [Hungry].


    Hidden Synergy - [Troll Regeneration]


    ¡°Eat and Live. Eat and grow stronger¡± - Dal-Spo, first warlord of the Tel-duth forest trolls.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>New Trait!</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>[Hunger Frenzy] - When starved and presented with food you may experience the status effect [Feeding Frenzy]. [Feeding Frenzy] temporarily increases Strength and Endurance while reducing Intelligence and Control.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The new messages drew my attention away from the effort to chew and swallow, but only for a short time. A sudden grinding pain followed by a snap brought my awareness to my legs and how I was no longer pulling myself onto the pile of meat by just my arms but also my now healed lower limbs.


    The sound of a third roar followed shortly by the sound of another small body hitting the wall told me that I had more than one sibling, but I was strangely ambivalent about the pain and suffering my brother or sisters were facing. All I could focus on was the feel of bone, flesh, and meat in my mouth as I chewed and snarled, ripping large slabs of flesh with sharp jerks of my back and neck muscles. Everything in the world seemed to focus on the consumption of food.


    I¡¯m not sure how long I existed in my trance of hunger, but eventually, I found myself laying back on what was left of the pile of meat. Across the room where two other small green blood-covered bodies which crawled, chewed, and bit at their own, slightly smaller piles.


    Sometime during my frenzy, our mother had left, rolling a large boulder across the small exit of the cave. It must have been very difficult for her to crawl out through the hole, but obviously not impossible. This entire setup must have taken days to construct and prepare. The cave, the boulder blocking the exit, the food. Even the small hole high up on the ceiling which let in some light, none of it was a simple setup.


    Despite the obvious pain and danger of this ceremony, I didn¡¯t feel afraid. I felt annoyed, I felt hurt, I felt betrayed, even mad, but not fear. Even reading the text saying the goal was to survive, which means I could die to this event, didn¡¯t really lead to fear. At best I felt a general unease and contemplation. I knew I should feel afraid, I just didn¡¯t.


    With a bit of care, I raised my sharp nail covered fingers to my face. Each hand was almost large enough to palm my own head. Delicately touching around my skull I found two small, barely formed, tusks pushing my lower lip outward. The tips still hidden behind my lips. The teeth in the front of my mouth were sharp, serrated, and fit together like well constructed mechanical shears. Opening my mouth wide I realized I could place nearly both hands inside my mouth at the same time, my lower jaw dropping down to my thick neck even as I bent my head back to make more room. Closing my mouth I could feel the muscles along my back and neck flex as my jaw snapped shut, both hands luckily having left my mouth before my experimentation. Clawed toes and short legs with a head covered in short bristly hair completed my disturbing visage.


    What the hell am I?


    This rhetorical thought actually led me to a useful answer.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3">Status</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>Name: Gur-dun (Pending)</td>


    <td>Race: Tel-duth Forest Troll</td>


    <td>Attunement: Unknown</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>Health: 73%</td>


    <td>Stamina: 10%</td>


    <td>Mana 100%</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>Strength: 13 (+)</td>


    <td>Dexterity: 9</td>


    <td>Agility: 11</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>Vitality: 22 (+++)</td>


    <td>Endurance: 18 (++)</td>


    <td>Resistance: 12</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>Intelligence: 13</td>


    <td>Wisdom: 9</td>


    <td>Control: 16</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3">Traits</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3">[Hunger Frenzy]</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3">Skills</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3">


    [Troll Regeneration] (Novice 5)


    [Improved Metabolism] (Novice 3)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    I wasn¡¯t sure what some of the symbols or what the numbers actually meant in the real world. But I could feel my exhaustion slowly ebbing away as I watched my stamina slowly rise. The exhaustion from my exertions in my [Feeding Frenzy] washed away in slow pulses. Across from my throne of meat I watched my siblings curl up and fall into slumber and soon I joined them; dreaming of screens of information which were brightly invisible and the sweet taste of meat.

 Chapter 3 - Hurt to Help

    The holes in my memories were horrifically personal. I knew of the country of Denmark, but I couldn¡¯t tell you what country I had lived in. I knew a useful acronym for the colors of the rainbow, but I couldn¡¯t say what my favorite color was. Every part of my memory was like this, my personal history excised perfectly from everything else.


    After the first day of gluttony and lethargic sleep, I began to think clearly about my situation. Watching my siblings, a brother and youngest sister, I tried to work out the reason for this ¡®naming ritual¡¯. I watched as each would scarf down food, bloat at the stomach, collapse into sleep, their arms and legs would expand and smooth out gaining muscle and definition, then shrivel and shrink as their bodies would mature, only to have this process repeated. I could only guess that [Troll Regeneration] was the cause of our unnatural growth. Perhaps the skill looked on physical immaturity as ¡®damage¡¯ which needed to be healed. The prepared food and the injuries to begin regeneration probably indicated that this whole event was built to give us a head start on physical maturity. I was hoping my reasoning was flawed since that implied a pretty nasty environment and life, but given Mr. Grey¡¯s words, I had little hope that I was wrong.


    An upsetting thought came to me; how old was my mother? How likely was it that trolls were horrific destroying beasts not because they were by nature, but because they were still mentally children? Again, a horrible thought but one I couldn¡¯t immediately reject. The possibility of physically strong children with the ability to recover from almost any damage having temper tantrums? Yeah, I can see how trolls would be hated, feared, and probably hunted as well.


    It was at this point that I started planning for my future. Three piles of meat, three children, a small but by no means unmovable rock blocking the exit. My guess is that the point of this event is for us to grow, push the rock out of the way, and then join the rest of the tribe. If we can¡¯t manage this then we starve to death. It was cruel, but no more so than some of the harshest rituals of humanity and probably par for the course when considering the nasty survival conditions I¡¯m probably going to experience.


    My initial plan was to eat only as much as what my siblings would have, then share out the rest of the pile, then when they calm down, I would work to push the rock out of the way. It seemed like a simple and easy plan, and for the first day after I made my plan, I didn¡¯t see anything wrong with it. But as the days passed and the meat and bones dwindled, as I watched my brother and sister chew through even meat that was starting to smell and rot I realized my error.


    I had been looking at things from a modern humans point of view, from the viewpoint of an aware and capable person which had been raised as part of a social group. I didn¡¯t remember that life, but those were my morals and outlook.


    My brother and sister wouldn¡¯t hit the ends of their piles, take stock of the situation then calmly work with me to push the boulder out of the way. They would eat, they would hunger, then they would try and eat each other and me! The danger in this room wasn¡¯t starvation, it was cannibalism. I was given the largest pile because I was the first born and it gave me the best chance, but that¡¯s all it was a chance!


    In my arrogance of knowledge and intellect, I had failed to consider things as they were and had seen things only from my point of view. I had done the worst thing in the situation I could do. I had slowed my eating and my siblings had already started to outgrow me. I had only one real plan to survive which would save me and my siblings from cannibalism. I needed to finish not just my pile, but some of my sibling''s piles as well, grow far more than them and then get us out of here before they moved on to each other or me.


    The next few hours were a nightmare routine of stuffing meat and bone into my mouth and fighting to ignore the painful stretching of my stomach. I did all I could to avoid the period of lethargy and sleep that my body seemed to want so dearly for recovery. I began to bulge and grow even as my stomach swelled into a gross pot belly, the green skin stretching and ripping in places. Even as I consumed I could feel my bones creaking and growing. When I reached the end of my pile I intentionally saved a large thigh bone from a deer-like animal.


    A crude weapon, but a thick bone with a large ball joint would work for my plan. I felt myself recoiling and shuddering at my idea but my plan was all I could think of. With a wobble I tried to stand, the bone acting as a cane for my clumsy drunk-like stumble. I approached my brother, his face spread wide in a toothy grin of happiness, his body covered in dirt, blood, and bits of fur from his last meal. I tried to take as wide a stance as I could, my mind still not fully able to control my bodies movements. Gripping the bone in both hands I slammed the bone into my brothers closest limb. The sound of his knee breaking vibrated up into my hands through my improvised weapon.


    I tried to ignore the screams of the little green child in front of me even as I worked to break his other limbs. The plan was obvious, my siblings had to spend more time healing than growing. The more of the food I could claim for myself the less they could use to grow. The more of the food they spent on healing, the less they could grow. Disabling them provided more food for me and did the double duty of protecting me from their future growth. But even as I reiterated this to myself I couldn¡¯t help feeling like the most horrific of evils. Far more than my species, it was my actions which made me monstrous.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">New Skill Learned!</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    [2 Handed Blunt Weapon] (Novice 1) - Two-handed blunt weapons are designed to break bones and internal organs. These weapons are useful when fighting armored opponents or when the disparity in strength is large.


    While usually slow, the extra reach and damage can cover that weakness.


    Two-handed blunt weapons are usually less expensive than the bladed equivalent since even a complex design is usually fairly crude consisting of a large weight affixed to a strong pole.


    Examples: Staffs, large maces, large hammers, and tree limbs.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Quickly I shoved the new window away from my mind and returned to my terrible work.


    Only after destroying both of my brother''s limbs did I drag him away from his food and into the corner furthest from the piles. Even as I dragged him away from the food I watched his bones shift and snap into shape. His hands scratched the ground weakly even as I clumsily dragged him back. Remembering my own scramble towards the food, even with broken limbs dragging behind me, I guessed that I wouldn¡¯t have long to eat and grow.


    I was right.


    It took only a couple hours, but soon an emaciated body, bloody from dragging itself across the ground, joined me in eating at his former pile. He started to growl and snarl even as he stuffed himself with food. I had made one enemy already in my plan, but I knew that I had to go further and repeat my actions with my new sister. I wasn¡¯t going to let my modern sensibilities convince me to leave my sister unharmed just because of her gender. I still remembered the large fangs jutting from my mother''s mouth and the shining love in her eyes even as she prepared to condemn us to this horrific process. I had no doubt that my new sister would be just as capable and willing as my brother to rip the flesh from my bones in her hunger.


    Even as I gutturally mumbled to myself my plan, repeating it over and over, I was screaming in horror in my mind. Yes, they were green and dirty and blood covered, but there was no doubting they were also children. My sister more resembling a nine-year-old in size, my brother somewhere around five and my body just now reaching a growth spurt into the teenage years. I wasn¡¯t seeing monsters, I was seeing children, more, I was trying to see them as my new family, even as I prepared to break and smash my sister''s body with a weapon ripped from an animal. The primitive and animalistic horror of my actions swept through me even as I slammed the bone into her repeatedly. I aimed for her limbs as I did for my brother. I was hoping to make movement difficult which would provide more time for me to eat. My attack went astray from the first swing, my new sister having seen my previous actions. She had not prepared well, simply trying to squirm away as I lashed out at her crawling body, but my morals cried out further as I staggered after her.


    The ten-minute fight felt like it took hours, I slammed my weapon into my sister repeatedly as she weakly tried to fend me off. At one point my wildly swinging weapon smashed into her forearms snapping her clawed hands back into her own face. The fear and tears on my baby sister¡¯s face as she tried to back away nearly made me throw up in disgust at my actions. I raged at my mother for putting her children into such a situation, crying as I tried to drag my sisters shuddering body away from her food.


    With a will, I shoved meat, fur, and bone into my mouth. The snapping of my jaw and teeth ripping into the carcass as I tried to grow fast enough to avoid the coming horror. When I noticed my brother down to his last animal I knew that the time had come. I was still bloated with a belly overflowing with food, my limbs were actually bulging with fat, but I couldn¡¯t wait. My sister had joined me not too long ago and was busy eating even as she shied away from me.


    Waddling my body with its distended belly into the tunnel I started to second guess the viability of my plan. The stone covering the cave entrance was far larger than I had thought, most of its bulk hidden by the mouth of the tunnel. Shoving my still developing body against the rock I tried to shift its mass.


    With more than a few grunts I moved the rock a small amount, more of a shifting into a more stable position than anything else. I tried laying back and pushing using my legs, shoving at the top of the rock trying to cause it to roll forward. I felt some movement but not enough. If I could get it to roll forward then I could walk my legs backward and keep the momentum moving but I failed even in that.


    Soon I heard sniffling and grunts behind me within the cave, as I continued to strain I could hear the dragging of a body. I was guessing that my brother had finished his pile and was moving to begin on my sister''s pile. My time was running out.


    Shoving as hard as I could against the rock I heard my joints pop when suddenly pain drove into my back as something failed inside me. I tried to ignore the sharp ripping pain as I had ignored the mental pain I had already experienced but it hindered my actions and stopped the rock.


    Sky.


    I could see a tiny sliver of sky, a dark blue sky heading towards night time, but sky none the less. Tears of joy started to fall from my face but I soon frowned when I realized the rock was still too close to allow escape. I began to beat and kick at the rock in frustration even as my back healed. I pushed and shoved, desperate to make further progress but the capstone rock failed to budge.


    In desperation I crammed my crude bone weapon under the bottom edge of the boulder and pressed down even as I shoved awkwardly at the top, my body nearly pressed in an arch in the air against the conflicting forces. With a grinding of bone and stone, the sudden movement of the rock heralded our new freedom.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center"></td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Tel-duth forest troll naming ceremony!


    The Tel-duth forest trolls are an ancient race which has become nearly extinct. Each child born undergoes the harsh naming ceremony. Upon survival, the given name will be your official name.


    Requirement: Survive.


    Reward: Official Name ¡®Gur-Dun¡¯, translation - ¡°Son of Suffering¡±


    Failure: Death


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>

 Chapter 4 - Guard the Rugrats

    I¡¯m not sure how long I remained outside the cave crying, my emotions bouncing all over. I was happy that I avoided death, upset because I had essentially tortured my new siblings, proud of my survival, disgusted at my changed circumstances and a host of other emotions all wrapped up together.


    My crying jag was ended abruptly with the impact of a stone to my forehead. When I looked around to find out what had hit me I found a male troll squatting next to a small fire pit watching me. My unfortunate angle -low to the ground- and his use of what was at best a loincloth gave me more than a clear view of what I was not interested in seeing.


    Scrambling onto my hands and knees I stood up under the careful eye of what I assumed was the guard of the ritual cave.


    Without taking his eyes off me he reached down, grabbed a stone the size of my fist between his index and middle finger and with an almost casual underhand toss lobbed the stone and hit me directly in the center of my chest. The throw was smooth and almost hypnotic in its ease but the impact was strong enough to leave me bent over wheezing.


    Rubbing my chest, the bruise already fading, I stood straight and watched for the next attack. The only response from the guard was a negligent sniff and a few pokes to the fire pit, though he made sure to always keep me in his eyesight. The way he watched me was the same way I would watch a wild animal. Prepared but not threatening.


    Our mutual tension was broken when one of my siblings started to scream from within the cave. A few seconds later my brother came running out of the ritual chamber yelling as if all the fiends of hell were chasing him. After running passed me without even glancing in my direction the guard swept the firepit stick out and knocked my brother onto his back. During my brothers flailing I noticed that two of his fingers were missing, the stubs already scabbed over. My guess was that he had reached for our sister''s food and she had taken offense to that.


    While my brother seemed to be wild and straightforward, my sister appeared to be the more dangerous of the two. She showed signs of thought after I had disabled her.


    Our guard and that seemed to be all he could be, showed only a hint of surprise when my brother ran out. It wasn¡¯t until my sister started to whine inside the cave that his stoic expression changed. Lips wide, teeth shining, jaw half open, he began a full body belly laugh as if he had heard a great joke. It would have looked funny except for the mouth full of serrated teeth that would have made a shark envious.


    Still laughing our guard continued to sweep my brother''s feet out from under him each time he tried to move away. I just kept watch, it was obvious the guard was just trying to keep us from running away. While he was slamming my brother around with little care for the fact he was in truth an infant, he also wasn¡¯t breaking any bones or even putting much more than bruises on him. Eventually, my brother gave up and began a truly massive temper tantrum, his no longer little fists slamming into the dirt repeatedly.


    While I stood and watched this battle of the rugrat versus Goliath I missed the moment my sister left the cave. The moment the guard looked down to watch my brother throw his fit is the moment my sister made a run for the path up to the cave. Unfortunately for her, this meant trying to run past the guard, something the guard did not allow.


    With a quick tussle, my sibling''s necks were both held in two giant mitt-like hands, each just below the head, and directed to face toward the pathway down. Looking at me with a squint and a grunt of three or four words he gestured down the trail, using both my sibling''s heads as direction batons, arms and legs flailing as he jerked their bodies forward showing me the direction to walk.


    I wasn¡¯t sure where we were going, but I wasn¡¯t going to go running off into the forest. I knew very little about how to survive in a forest let alone in a new strange world. I also had the feeling that even with the rough welcome other trolls would probably be gentler on me than probably any other species.


    The trail down the mountain was narrow and partially overgrown with thin sweet smelling scrub brush. The forest below was beautiful, a mix of thin green trees and patches of ash grey granite stones thrust up at random. Some of these boulders were small, not much more than head sized rocks, others were huge, towering over the trees around them.


    The entire walk down the path I would glance back and watch as our guard ¡®guided¡¯ my siblings down the trail. They would occasionally slap and squirm against his grip, but he never slowed our faltered. Whenever I glanced back he would just continue gesturing forward using one of my siblings in a casual gesture. At a fork in the path, he sniffed and gestured toward the path which followed the mountainside instead of the path which trailed off into the forest. This new path started back up along the ridge of the mountain instead of down.


    Eventually, we came to a collection of shanties that could laughably be called a village. Rocks collected into piles with loose bundles of sticks and logs laying on top of them to create ¡®caves¡¯ that even wild animals would find pathetic.


    The most complex structure was a series of logs jammed into the ground in a kind of crude wall with more logs carefully arranged on top making a roof. Two rooms were formed in this way with more logs, these the size of full grown trees, laying in front of the ¡®doorways¡¯. Small and cramped, the pair of rooms more closely resembled that of a prison cell than it did a home. My comparison was appropriate since our guard threw, literally, my siblings into a room each then shoved logs into place to barricade them in. Staring at me directly he pointed at the ground in front of the cages/rooms and grunted out a word that I could only assume meant ¡®sit¡¯.


    With a shrug, I did as I was instructed. I wasn¡¯t a fan of the heavy-handed and rude treatment, but then again, I wasn¡¯t forced marched down the mountainside either. If my good behavior kept me from experiencing that kind of ¡®training¡¯ to behave, I would take it.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    I spent the next two hours sitting in front of the make-shift pen poking at my status trying to understand the system I was going to be living under. Waving my hand through an interface window that wasn¡¯t actually in my field of vision was an abject failure. Thinking hard about selecting things was only slightly more effective. The grand accomplishment of my two hours of effort was moving the asterisks around on my stats. What did this do? Not a clue.


    My brother spent those same two hours alternating between slamming himself into his cage and snarling with whining and grumbling on the floor. Occasionally he would make a noise of confusion but that was about the extent of his actions. Sister, on the other hand, spent her time chewing on one of the logs of the wall and staring out of a small break in the wall at me and anyone else nearby.


    The villagers, if such a place could be called a village, were few and far between, but each of them stopped and stared in confusion at me and then the jail cells when they first noticed me. They most likely didn¡¯t expect three prisoners to escape that naming ritual, that or they didn¡¯t expect one of them to calmly wait. I wasn¡¯t acting like a normal troll child or a normal child of any species I could name for that matter, but I had little choice if I wanted to make things easier on myself.


    My status manipulation was eventually interrupted by the joyous sounds of my new mother stampeding up to our cages. Unlike her visage in the cave, this time mother was well fleshed out instead of deeply emaciated. Apparently, troll childbirth is very traumatic.


    Scooping me up from my cross-legged seat, mother cooed in a guttural and high pitched tone as she hugged me to her bosom. Her other arm kept touching both jail cells and making loving tones. That our mother cared was beyond obvious even to my two siblings. The bits of overcooked meat fed to us, pulled from a bag strapped to her side, may have been part of the reason she overcame my siblings¡¯ reticence.


    After a while, I figured out that the repeatedly cooed words were actually our three names. My brother Dor-Dun and Sister Rah-so. What those names meant I wasn¡¯t sure, but since my name meant ¡®Son of Suffering¡¯ I had no doubt those names had some meaning in this new language as well.


    Soon enough our mother was gruffly driven off by our guard. He spent his time simply relaxing, casually watching me and occasionally checking on both of my siblings. Each time he did, my sister would crouch down and pretend to be sleeping, curling up in front of the place she had chewed in an act to hide her efforts, while my brother went into a paroxysm of snarling insanity each time trying to threaten and drive off our guard. Both met with little success, I could see the laughter dance in our guard¡¯s eyes on the two times he made his checks. Each time he checked on me I simply watched him curiously and this seemed to confuse him more than my sibling''s anger and escape attempts.


    Eventually, even my patience had reached its breaking point. When I stood my guard''s attention was focused squarely on me. When I started to wander over to a wood pile he stood and followed me closely. I could see he was preparing to pull me back so I, as casually as I could, pointed at a pile of firewood and waited for him to signal it was ok. With an even more confused air, he slowly gestured in a ¡®go¡¯ gesture.


    After I found a bit of wood to play with I walked back to my previous seat and started to fiddle with my bit of wood and a stray sharp rock to see if I could do something to distract myself while waiting for¡­well¡­whatever we seemed to be waiting for.


    Once I was seated again our guard returned to his spot near a fire pit, returning to his poking and prodding of the logs. Each interaction with me seemed to confuse him more. Good. Better confusion then anger and violence. While I was sure my new life would have both in spades, I was hoping that childhood would let me adjust to my new world.


    Eventually, my fiddling with wood stopped being a matter of boredom and instead I was using this time to make myself a weapon, hopefully, something I wouldn¡¯t need. Peeling the bark away from the body length stick I broke off bits of twigs and worked to sharpen one end. A simple spear seemed like a weapon that even a novice could use successfully. Pointy end goes to the enemy, seems simple enough. After walking over to my guard''s fire pit I used the fire to sharpen the end of my stick. I don¡¯t remember where I learned about fire-sharpening, but I knew it was marginally useful. I was careful to make no sudden moves when near my guard, he was clearly expecting me to attack him with my new weapon. Once I had sharpened my stick I held it up and examined it to be sure of its point when a new window popped up.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">New Skill Learned!</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    [Carpentry - Weapon] (Novice 3) - The working of wood, even in the crudest of forms, is a needed skill for any weapon-smith.


    Carpentry is the skill of turning raw wood into a finished or partial product useful for homes, furniture, weapons, and even decorative finishes. The sub-skill of carpentry weapon-smithing focuses on the shaping of wood for the comfort of the hand, the selection of treatments and wood for the correct hardness and flexibility for the intended use of weapons. Hidden synergies are available.


    Examples: Staffs, Spears, Bows, Inlays, handles of all kinds, etc.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Novice 3? Each of my skills before when I had gained them had been at novice 1. It had taken time while using my skills before they had gone up in level. Why was this time different and what exactly is the difference between 1 and 3? What exactly did a higher skill do for me? Again, plenty of questions, few answers. I assumed 3 was better than 1, it seemed reasonable, but what exactly that meant wasn¡¯t clear.


    The part of my status I was most interested in was the ¡®attunement¡¯ and ¡®mana¡¯. Mana meant magic, and magic could be amazing. It might be as important to my future as a fire was too early humans. How to use that wasn¡¯t clear though. Attunement seemed important as well, especially since it was listed as ¡®unknown¡¯. The only reason it was that interesting to me was that of the potential for it to be either very good or very bad. The unknown was always a wild card.


    Watching the villagers I tried to understand what daily life was like here. Who did what, who was important, what trades existed, etc. My conclusions were depressing. No one was really doing anything, most were listless and seemingly bored. Staring at fire pits, playing with bits of shiny stone and slowly eating bits of burnt food. More than once I watched a pair of trolls head into a ¡®hut¡¯ and the sounds of what could only be sex drifted out. No one seemed to care, no one was really interested in what was going on.


    The entire village seemed to be bored waiting for something. What everyone was waiting for became clear shortly before nightfall. A large hunting party trudged tiredly into the village hauling partially slaughtered animals and what could only be considered monsters. To my disgust, more than one of these creatures appeared humanoid. A small green creature I would call a goblin, a large dark-skinned creature with a wide face, slanted brow, and small tusks that I thought of as an Orc. The goblin was wearing only a dirty loin cloth but the orc had well-made leather armor with small metal studs and thick-soled boots. They had been sentient creatures and now they were being butchered for food.


    I made a pledge to myself that I would only eat meat that I could identify and avoid eating sentient creatures unless I was starving. Somehow I thought that my objections would eventually be overridden by hunger and the thought made me queasy.

 Chapter 5 - Run!

    Turning to the side I spit out the collection of saliva and blood that had pooled in my mouth after the last hit to the face. Surprisingly the most annoying part of this training wasn¡¯t the pain, it was the constant dust from the training area getting onto everything. Every time I was knocked down I would get a mouth full of dust or a face full of dirt. I would rather have the blood. To a troll, blood tastes pretty nice, even if it comes from your own split lip or broken tooth.


    Shoving off the ground, the movement still feeling odd with my arms longer then my legs, I watched my brother frown as I prepared myself. Most of our training fights have gone in my favor. Brother¡¯s fighting style consisted of overwhelming violence and relentless attacks, which at first was frightening and definitive, but once you have healed from head-on attacks a few times it becomes far less effective.


    ¡°Up. Good. Fight,¡± said our guard and trainer, Whisper.


    I started to circle my brother as he hoisted his training club over his shoulder in his standard ready position. Our weapons were the most sophisticated device I had seen being created in the village. Two almost comically oversized tree limbs with the bashing end wrapped with cast-off fur and tied off with a tendon. Anything more complicated turned out to be scavenged from a hunted sentient and not troll made.


    The overhead strike came in fast, my brothers favorite opening move used in almost every match to start. Stepping back I let his weapon strike the ground in front of me, the padded club leaving a deep indent even in the hard packed dirt and dust.


    Swinging my own weapon left handed, from right to left, I slammed my weapon into the haft of my brother''s club. While my hit was nowhere near hard enough to knock the weapon out of his hands or break it, my brother''s insistence with putting his everything into every strike left him off balance. Turning my body as I moved towards him I slammed my elbow into his side. Not the most effective strike, especially when our bodies recover from bruises quickly, but that wasn¡¯t the point.


    Suddenly my brother started screaming and swinging his club in every direction, at one point he was even trying to spin around with his weapon! At moments like these, I was reminded that my siblings were only a few weeks old now. My brother is just swinging wildly at this point, eyes closed and teeth bared, sweat flying off his body as he swings his heavy weapon in every direction.


    Once his swings start to slow I step in and jab him in the stomach with my club. Again, not the most effective attack, but it worked well enough. Falling down my brother just lays on the ground and huffs trying to regain his breath. Glancing at Whisper I hold out my hand for my prize.


    With a less than pleased sounding grunt my burnt meat prize was tossed to me. Tearing off a bit I chucked the smaller bit to my brother who smiled widely as he snapped it up. Again with a negative head shake and grunting noise but Whisper didn¡¯t say anything else about me sharing my prize.


    In his usual taciturn manner Whisper ordered us done with training with one word, ¡°Home.¡±


    I had worried that learning the language would be a difficult and annoying chore, but it wasn¡¯t. The language was so primitive that it might not even qualify as a language, it was a pidgin at best. No set grammar meaning you could string words together in any order. Words that mean a whole host of different things rather than a large number of words all slightly different in meaning. My name Gur-Dun meant ¡®Son of Suffering¡¯ or ¡®little one of agony¡¯ or ¡®result of something uncomfortable that doesn¡¯t go away¡¯. Essentially ¡®Gur¡¯ means anything that is ¡°unpleasant that lasts for a long time that isn¡¯t death.¡±


    My brother''s name means ¡®son of mistake¡¯ or as I like to think of him ¡®Oopsie!¡¯ since the first time I figured out what ¡®Dor¡¯ meant was after someone tripped. Rah-so was harder to understand but I finally got it after the hunters returned one night without food. Daughter of Hungry.


    Children apparently got the ¡®Dun¡¯ and ¡®So¡¯ ending which meant son or daughter, but no one else had a name which implied bad things. Whisper for example -it could be gust, silent, or a host of other options but Whisper seemed right- didn¡¯t have a name which sounded bad. Everyone had something that sounded useful or helpful, the leader of the hunting party, the guy I have tentatively labeled the chief, was named Strong for example.


    Mother was Happy.


    Returning to our shelter (and once jail cells), I pulled out another staff and tried to see if I could figure out how to attach a heavy stone to it making a large stone club. The lack of weapons or even basic gear of any kind was still confusing me. Initially, I had assumed the person with the most equipment would be the person in charge. Strong on the other hand basically walked around naked, without even a loin cloth! The people with the most gear was us, the children.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    We had been supplied with tunics, belts, shoes, pants, all cast-offs from hunts. The closest thing to gear was the large limbs which were used as hunting clubs. Not even spears were used.


    Beyond the crude wood clubs, the only other real weapon that seemed to be in fashion was rock throwing which seemed to be the primary hunting weapon. Everything about this setup screamed a level of primitive life that I just couldn¡¯t comprehend. Despite my first thought, none of the trolls were obviously mentally limited. Whisper, for example, had been trying to teach us combat techniques which were obviously well thought out. Despite the limited language, there were no difficulties expressing the full range of disgust, annoyance, and laughter which came with training children.


    So then why did no one make anything but cast off crude weapons? Why did no one build any permanent buildings? Why was it that the strongest passed up weapons and gear and instead just used whatever was near on the hunt? Strong routinely lead the hunting party without even hauling a rock along, just using one wherever he found his quarry. It made no sense to me!


    During my frustration my crude rock knife slipped and cut into my hand, prompting a bout of grumbling and throwing my ruined project away. Mother noticed my frustration and chucked a bit of burned food at me, which of course I split and passed part of it to my sister who had been hovering behind me watching.


    It was the first morning in the village when our blatant food-based training had started. Following any direction gained us food and failure resulted in a troll level of ¡®gentle¡¯ beating. I understood the idea quickly and did my best to follow suit. My obvious efforts to garner friendship with my siblings by sharing was never shared the other way around, but the random snapping from them had quickly stopped. Now I had a little shadow who loved to watch everything I did. Hungry would often imitate me and cut on sticks and try to create weapons. I wasn¡¯t sure if she was just trying to get more food from me or what, but the cuteness of the entire thing had caused more than one bit to be passed over to her so it was effective either way.


    Eventually, the night came and with it the return of the hunting party. This hunt was again successful but unfortunately for my morals, I noticed more orcs in this hunt. The last few hunts had returned with more orcs each time and I was starting to worry about this trend.


    While watching the deboning of an elk-like beast I noticed the sudden silence and that all the hunters quickly stood and looked towards the pathway to the village. There was a pregnant pause as everyone just listened for a moment, the dark hiding anything on the path. Then Strong grabbed a boulder near the footpath, hefted it over his head with a gigantic roar and threw the body sized stone down the path, the sounds of screaming following up from his action.


    ¡°Run!¡±


    The first command I had heard Strong give, but one that everyone quickly followed. Everything was dropped right where it was, my sister and my brother ran directly after my mother, Whisper leading the troop up the pass through the mountain and away from the footpath. I never saw what had attacked, but the shouts and commands said it wasn¡¯t a monster attack but sentients of some kind.


    I could hear shouts and the sound of Strong roaring, the noise of boulders being lobbed down the path meeting flesh loud even as I ran away.


    That night was a nightmare of running with the sound of blood pounding in my ears. Uphill was surprisingly easy, my long arms reaching forward and pulling the ground backward in a hunched four-legged gait while downhill was more a process of using my arms to slow by grabbing trees and rocks as I passed them. A few hours into our mad race Strong reached the back of the pack, his body peppered with arrows and still bleeding wounds. Given his regeneration, to still be healing this long after meant he must have experienced a truly horrific fight.


    No one stopped, the entire night was spent running. The pack only slowed to let me and my siblings catch our breath, even then we still moved at a walk. Early in the morning, the tribe drifted away from the game path we had been following. Soon a large bellow and scuffle started ahead of us, when we reached the source of the noise it was clear a large lizard creature had been killed. Three limbs had already been yanked off and consumed. We were each given a part of the lizard when Strong reached the lizard, his wounds were healed, even the arrows had fallen out. His body was visibly thinner from it¡¯s healing. Grabbing what was left of the lizard he chucked it over his shoulder and we continued our hike, now at a slightly slower pace. I watched in amazement as Strong slowly ate every part of the lizard while traveling at a jog.


    Shortly after finishing his snack Strong passed the troop and continued ahead, eventually, he brought more game down and brought it back to the tribe. I still couldn¡¯t figure out why he wasn¡¯t using a weapon, but I was impressed with his capabilities none the less.


    We continued our death march for three long days without stopping for nights or rain. Whisper kept the tribe going while Strong and the other hunters would race ahead to hunt. We didn¡¯t travel as fast as a racing horse, but we marched faster and further than a human could, let alone what a troop of a hundred strong would be able to do.


    On the fourth day, we slowed and the tribe bunched up in a small valley wash out. The recent rain had turned the washout into a small creek which everyone seemed willing to stand around in without a care for the cold water. Whisper kept everyone quite and huddled together near a bundle of trees, pushing more than one person out of the creek and up into the shadows. Strong and two other hunters hunched down and slowly moved up the creek and up between two large boulders. Shortly one hunter returned and waved everyone forward.


    Passed the boulders was what seemed to be the sister settlement to our previous home. Crude huts of rock and broken wood, most rotted from a season of neglect. Two pathways passed through the village, one back the way we came through the creek and the other passing down and then up around and into the hills. Both pathways had easy eye lines from the village.


    Once our mother showed us to our new home I collapsed into the mud of our little hovel and dropped into sleep surrounded by my brother and sister.

 Chapter 6 - Adult Interupted

    The next two days were spent in a mixture of boredom with brief moments of terror. The tribe¡¯s hunters rotated a patrol of our backtrail waiting for trackers. On the second day, we had a short moment of fright when a small fox started up the washout when no one had expected our hunters to be returning. The sudden sound of the brush being disturbed had everyone ready to defend or run away only to surprise a poor fox. The frozen tableau was broken when one of the hunters started to chase after the small animal.


    After two days everyone seemed to be confident that we had outrun our pursuers. I tried to discuss with Whisper who they had been and why they were hunting us but the most I could get out of him was ¡®Hunters¡¯.


    The next week was an unpleasant return to our normal practice routine. Unpleasant since whatever Whisper had been trying to train us to be able to do, Oopsie and Hungry had figured it out. I was still failing to pull off whatever odd thing they were doing.


    The first time it happened, brother was standing across from me in his usual stance, his new club cocked back over his shoulder prepared for his consistently telegraphed opening move.


    Part of the problem was that I had grown cocky and overconfident. Brother attacked in a powerful but slow overhead strike at the start of every fight. My response had become automatic, wait for him to approach, dodge then counter-attack. This time things changed. Brother¡¯s rush seemed to stutter at the start, a moment of confusion passed his face and then he stopped and howled a roar of utter bestial fury. After his yell, he started to breathe hard while staring at me while a strange red mist flowed out of him.


    After his yell, I just stood there slack-jawed while the odd mist like dust swirled around him. With a deep inhale he seemed to burst forward in a flying leap, covering the distance between us in a moment. His overhead strike was so fast that even if I had been prepared I would never have been able to dodge, with my flat-footed confusion I had no chance. The next thing I knew I was waking up with a splitting headache and a window floating in the front of my mind.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">Skill Up!</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>[Troll Regeneration] (Novice 73)</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Lately my Troll Regeneration had stalled out, only leveling up under a severe injury from training. Given the nearly shattered feeling from my skull and the obvious hours I had spent unconscious, I¡¯m guessing I had lost that round.


    After my spectacular failure, brother had far fewer training rounds with me and sister. Whatever he had done was his first step to preparing to work with the hunting group. He spent most of our training time with a hunter who sat out the hunting to talk with him, miming attacks and hearing hunting stories.


    Sister had been a more precise and difficult opponent, worse, Troll females were no smaller than males so I didn¡¯t get to enjoy any type of real size advantage. The next few days with Whisper and Hungry consisted of Whisper throwing us into a very intense training routine. Our battles became more frequent with less recovery time in between and each fight was far more violent.


    When sister made her breakthrough she suddenly started moving the way Whisper would in training. Not exactly faster, but as if the world itself moved out of her way, it was difficult to explain. It was as if each attack was followed by something pressing down with her swings. No stronger, no faster, but each attack was harder to take, far more damaging.


    From that point on brother and sister alternated fights with me. I was being pummeled to within an inch of my life, my Troll Regeneration skill started to tick up quickly, finally topping out at novice 92. When they were both tired, then Whisper would start to ¡®teach¡¯ me. His blows far more damaging and practiced then sisters.


    Finally, on the fifth day of my repeated beatings, something seemed to swell up through my feet. A strength, a resistance, a force like the sudden shifting of a mountain ran up my body. With his body emitting that odd intangible red mist again brother struck down on me undefended body. I had lost my club earlier in the match and all I could do was raise my left arm up in defense. I was planning to sacrifice my arm so I would be able to get in closer and get a few punches or kicks in. When the club hit it thumped against my arm in a loud sound like wood on stone. My arm still broke, but it was barely a hairline fracture, something that healed in minutes for us.


    Whatever this power was it kept pushing up into my body, I felt like a balloon filling up beyond the bursting point. My right arm snapped out in a heavy uppercut and the power traveled through me and drove into my fist throwing Oopsie away with a broken jaw.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">Attunement Completed!</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>Attunement: Earth.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Noticing that I had gained my attunement Whisper gestured for us to take a break. Quickly I checked my status.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="3">Status</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">Name: Gur-dun</td>


    <td style="text-align: center">Race: Tel-duth Forest Troll</td>


    <td style="text-align: center">Attunement: Earth</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">Health: 86%</td>


    <td style="text-align: center">Stamina: 22%</td>


    <td style="text-align: center">Mana 63%</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>Strength: 13 (+)</td>


    <td>Dexterity: 9</td>


    <td>Agility: 11</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>Vitality: 22 (+++)</td>


    <td>Endurance: 18 (++)</td>


    <td>Resistance: 12</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>Intelligence: 13</td>


    <td>Wisdom: 9</td>


    <td>Control: 16</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="3">Traits</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3">[Hunger Frenzy]</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="3">Skills</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3">


    [Troll Regeneration] (Novice 92)This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    [Improved Metabolism] (Novice 45)


    [Carpentry - Weapon] (Novice 24)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    I didn¡¯t know what my attunement meant, but I noticed my mana was lower. I guess that I had some kind of magical control over the earth? How did that relate to my defense or that big hit at the end?


    Walking over to my brother I grabbed his foot and started dragging him back to our hut. I had some food there and he would be happy to have it available when he woke up. He should wake within the next half an hour or so.


    Eventually, Whisper came to collect us and present us to Strong and the rest of the hunters. Mother stood back and smiled broadly, a smile which would frighten a shark but only felt like love to me and my siblings.


    Standing in front of us, Strong started his disjointed speech.


    ¡°Rage. Nature. Earth,¡± Nodding at each of us, in turn, he then turned to face the hunters.


    ¡°Adults. Hunt, then named.¡±


    With that, the hunters started out into the forest through the tiny creek between the two boulders. The forest outside our second village was lusher than our previous location. Tall evergreen trees packed together with little undergrowth, the moist fog crawled across the ground with little sunlight breaking through to dissipate it even in the middle of the day.


    Oopsie stuck close to Whisper in the back while Hungry and I drifted closer to the center of the pack. Strong led us off at a gentle but mile-eating lope. After an hour or so we came upon something on the ground which caught Strong¡¯s interest. The entire troop huddled down and slowed, moving along a game trail in a gentle hunched posture.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">New Skill Learned!</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    [Sneak] (Novice 1) - Sneaking is the art of avoiding notice, from noise, actions, or demeanor. Sub-Skills in exist for nature, urban, and even polite society.


    Hidden Synergies Exist!


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    I was surprised to see a sneak skill, but it made sense considering the other skills. I¡¯m not sure how sneaky a six-plus foot troll who tops out at almost three hundred pounds could be, but every skill could be useful. One thing that I truly detested about my new existence was communication. Why were we sitting here? Why did we wait almost an hour just hunched and waiting? I had no clue and no one around would have told me if I had bothered to ask. They all just seemed to accept that Strong knew what he was doing and that this entire process would work out. Given that almost every hunt brought back food I had to agree as to his competency, but I still would have liked to understand why we were waiting. Just another penalty of my modern upbringing.


    Eventually Strong gestured a few of us out to one direction and then a few of the rest of us out in another direction. I was grouped up behind Strong, we slowly walked wide around something ahead of us, eventually, we came to the edge of a clearing where a huge herd of Elk-like creatures was grazing. While these creatures looked liked Elk, the goat horns and furry hind legs said these were not, strictly speaking, Elk.


    Strong reached down to a large boulder, a rock nearly his own size, his hand gripped and the stone seemed to move slowly out of the way like he was reaching into a pile of clay. When he had a strong grip with plenty of room for his fingers to move he gave a small grunt and lifted.


    Hauling the boulder over his head he strode forward with ponderous steps until he reached some kind of stability at which point he started to accelerate. The Elk snapped their heads up as he started to barrel through the brush, the huge overhead boulder slapping through branches and his body knocking over saplings. I ran behind trying to keep up with his bull rush.


    When the Elk started to move away he took aim with a small hop and threw the boulder with a huge yell. The boulder plowed through not the largest group as I had expected, but instead the group which had been moving off course from the rest of the hunting group. Not only did Strong get a few of those Elk but he drove more of them to the other hunters. A few of the other hunters lobbed boulders, though none as large as Strongs, while others jumped out from behind trees or from dips in the forest and swung weapons at the running herd.


    By the end of the small engagement, both Oopsie and Hungry had managed to bring down an animal each. More than one of the hunting troop had nailed more than one animal each. Strong alone had crushed at least four animals, a quick stomp and jerk snapping the neck of each downed animal. I had been too slow and in a bad position to get an Elk, another hunter had also failed to down a beast because of an unfortunate slip which had left his ankle twisted and broken beneath him. After he had straightened the limb and waited a half an hour for it to knit together the rest of the troop was up and moving toward the village.


    On the way back the troop stopped one more time and hunkered down again. Strong grabbed my shoulder and gestured for me to stay still and pointed the rest of the hunters to head out and around. I was guessing it was important for me to get a kill and the rest of the hunters were preparing to drive the animal, whatever they were, towards me.


    Hunkered down by stacks of the hunters kills I waited for my chance. I knew it could take hours for them to get into position or things could go quickly and it would be moments. Either way, I had to be prepared at a moments notice. I had removed the padding from my training stick back at camp and so all I could do was grip tight my bludgeon and wait for my chance. I had been the last of the siblings to gain my attunement and I would be the last to get a kill on my first hunt, but I wouldn¡¯t be the only one to fail.


    Streamers of pain and numbness suddenly passed through my body, my framearching backward as something caused my muscles to flex out of my control. Behind me two humans and an orc rushed towards me, the orc was standing with one hand held out towards me his hand glowing with a gentle green light.


    Both humans passed in a wide loop towards my twitching form, careful to be sure not to break line of sight for the orc caster. I tried to swing my arm out as one of the humans reached for me, with my eyes rolling in my head I was barely able to swing at him but it appeared that this had been a faint in order to get his friend closer. With a click a metal loop wrapped around my neck.


    Both humans jumped back and started to rushtowards the orc who panted as he dropped his hand. What felt like black ropes wrapped around my mind and down to the metal collar. The ropes multiplied and tightened, strapping my mind down, tightening and causing me to hyperventilate as I felt like I was being smothered. Just when I felt like I would pass out, the ropes locked onto my mind and snapped taught with etherial bonds stronger than steel, each cord anchored into the metalcollar.


    Panting I tried to roll over and reach my feet but my movements were interrupted by the orc speaking in badly accented troll.


    ¡°No fight. Sleep.¡±


    Then I knew no more.

 Chapter 7 - Practicality in Defenders

    The gentle knock on Rendrick¡¯s door woke him from his uncomfortable sleep. Wiping the drool from his face, and the book he fell asleep on, he called out permission to enter his private quarters.


    ¡°Good morning Master Rendrick, Master Voren has instructed me to be sure you were up and prepared for the day,¡± said the slight woman who entered holding a tea tray overburdened with fresh breakfast.


    With an excited air, Rendrick snapped closed his defiled book and lobbed it onto one of the stacks of books littering his study room. Pushing some letters and writing tools aside, he made room for the tray.


    Rendrick¡¯s study room was a picture of late-teenage geekdom as it applied to mage-craft. Bits of metal, quills, ink pots, books, and dust, the only thing not left laying around was half eaten meals. The reason for the half-eaten meals being cleared away was due to his personal maid. The nature of mage-craft made moving or cleaning anything else in the room a terrible idea.


    ¡°Thanks, Mothe¡­err...maid Evelyn, everything looks wonderful, it¡¯s just what I would want for today,¡± the awkward almost slip hadn¡¯t happened in years, but Rendrick¡¯s lack of sleep and distraction for his important day almost caused him issues.


    Trying to smooth over the stumble over their relative stations, maid Evelyn passed into Rendrick¡¯s little-used bedroom and pulled from his closet an outfit for the day. Today he would spend time out of the tower, among the commoners and gentry alike while also visiting a more sordid section of the city; the clothes laid out were nice, but had hidden armor woven in. Every step outside the tower had potential dangers and Evelyn would not tempt fate today of all days.


    Mages are a rarity, the vast majority of sentients express their mana internally, mages express their mana externally. While Mages are rare, a trained Mage with support is rarer still. Once a Mage gains the ability to harness sources beyond their primary attunement their capabilities skyrocket.


    A Mage can cast spells of their own attunement, a Magister of their attunement and a source they have purified as well as a mixture of the two. A Magus has two sources beyond their primary and the mixtures thereof. Beyond Magus is the Arch-Mage, with three or more sources and their primary. The capabilities of an Arch-Mage are so varied and frightening, unique to each Arch-Mage, that only betrayal from within is capable of killing them.


    Rendrick was apprenticed to Arch-Mage Voren, Primary of Time, confirmed Source of eight, rumored of many more. Today was the last day of his apprenticeship and the day he would be set free to build his own power. His parting gift from his Master was the purchase of a Defender and the use of the family dungeon, controlled by Arch-Mage Voren for more than three hundred years. He would be the fifth son to enter the dungeon and hopefully the second to escape it.


    The world of the Mage was a world of practicality. Those who failed to respect a Mage¡¯s station needed to be educated as to their mistake. Children who can not externally express magic are ignored since they become at best a handle on the Mage, at worst, their downfall. Only Mage children are recognized, and even then only as they follow the strict social structure which ensures Mages of power will be able to one day work with them. Mages surround themselves with those with a slave bond or those who are - or one day will be - their peers. Peerage or Slave, those are the only options of safety for Mages and at the beginning of their career is when they are the most vulnerable only protected by the power and politics of their Master and their Defender.


    Rendrick reached his magical Attunement at the age of twelve, slower than other children, but common enough for those who Attune to frost. That day changed many things for Rendrick, recognition by his father - now Master - and the loss of the closeness of his Slave branded mother. The following three years consisted of intense study in casting spells of frost, some he created, some developed with insight from Arch-Mage Voren, but all under the careful care of his personal maid.


    After breakfast and dressing, quickly combing his long black locks back and out of his face, Rendrick strode down the tower and to the courtyard. A single gentle nod and wave to maid Evelyn, who he would only see from then on in passing if at all, had Rendrick stepping into the carriage where his Master waited.


    Looking at the carefully serene face of his apprentice, Arch-Magus Voren nodded, ¡°Good. Comportment even at the end. It¡¯s difficult I know. I¡¯m not particularly a fan of the system myself, but the first rule of our society is practicality, it¡¯s either upheld or you die.¡±


    Arch-Magus Voren had to create a careful balance with his children and the rest of Mage society. He was at the pinnacle of power, so was hounded by political forces from outside, but he also needed to maintain strong relations with his children who may one day reach similar heights.


    Rendrick felt affection for his master in this moment. Few other mages would recognize his feelings in that moment, the years from their own apprenticeship and the subsequent years of power having dulled the memories.


    The ride to the Downesend Quarter of the city was slow and silent, each reflecting on the changes the day would bring. For Rendrick, today would be the purchase of his first, and most important, slave. A prospect that he both understood the necessity of and loathed. But it also meant the start of his own rise to power. With the right Defender by his side, he could gain breakthroughs in combat with relative safety. The Defender, while lacking the power of a mage, would also gain in power along with their mage and so a soul bound slave was required.


    For Arch-Magus Voren, this would be the end of his comfortable interaction with his son and apprentice and begin the start of political maneuverings. That, of course, assumes that his son manages to make it through the dungeon. A hope Voren had had for each of his sons but that had only come true with one, and it was arguable that he had not come through whole.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Each was broken out of their silent thoughts as the carriage reached the slave merchants warehouse. Cobbled streets led into the gated courtyard of a building of solid stone construction situated near the docks.


    The warehouse had two wings, the left-hand wing, closer to the docks, was built like a jail, and in fact, served that purpose more often than not. The left wing was the residence of cutpurses, murderers, and other low-end slave labor, usually relegated to rowing duty on boats.


    The right-hand wing of the building, on the other hand, more resembled that of a dormitory. Each slave was given a small personal room instead of a metal cage, each was allowed to leave their room and walk the grounds, given small duties around the building, and generally treated relatively well. There was no need to treat these slaves badly, after all, each was either slave branded or collared with a slave controller. Despite the nice conditions the residents could no more leave then their caged brethren, they were a higher quality of merchandise, nothing more.


    It was to the right-hand wing that the pair was directed by the slave master, a short and fat man who made every effort not to look the Arch-Magus or Mage in the eye. While the Arch-Magus had purchased a few slaves from him before, he knew the relative differences in their standings, the Arch-Magus was a power unto his own self. If the Arch-Magus decided to destroy the town as a rebuke for poor service the king would send nothing but an apology to the Arch-Magus.


    Entering a common room, the slave master directed a slave to gather specific room numbers to join them. Focusing on large and strong members was the priority. While the pair waited the slave master had tea and crumpets delivered. Neither caster would drink or eat anything that their own slaves had not prepared, but the social protocols had to be followed. At no time did the slave master sit, he stood at attention to the side of the large well-appointed room and waited for his merchandise to arrive.


    Within a short period slaves filed into the room standing in rows, most with their heads down while a few directed a look of anger or looked straight ahead with a vacant stare. When the Arch-Magus stood he flexed his power, letting the pressure of hundreds of years of combat and magical study rush through the room. The oppressive force swept aside any idea of rebellion, the point of the Arch-Maguses action, if insulted he would have to rebuke the slave and the slave master as well. A habit of that kind of action meant he would have to use force again in the future and trade was so much simpler. Practicality wins out yet again.


    ¡°No females. It would be too easy to grow attached,¡± the voice of the young Mage surprised slave master Fent, his focus had been on the Arch-Magus, understandable since his presence was frightening even when he held his power close.


    Quietly proud of his apprentice, the Arch-Magus nodded and waved his hand in agreement. Quickly the female slaves, the majority, were directed to leave. All that was left were the large and strong male specimens.


    ¡°Arch-Magus, this first slave is a northern barbarian. He is skilled with a longsword and has skills in herbalism, focused on northern herbs of course, and was captured during the last war with the north. He is a third son of the Narm of the North, that may cause some political issues or provide political benefits, that is of course, for you to decide.¡±


    Though the room was relatively cool since the weather had started to turn towards winter from fall, the slave master was sweating heavily. His voice didn¡¯t break and his manners were impeccable, trained often to deal with the gentry, but the Arch-Magus was a different beast entirely. The mistake of focusing on females reduced his options significantly, he had been purchasing females for months over males expecting the young mage to focus in that direction like any young noble would have.


    Rendrick looked at the large man, his body still smeared with boiled animal fats to protect his skin from the cold northern winds even though he was no longer living in that region. This indicated a failure to adapt to new circumstances, but beyond that, his focus on large swords was less than useful in a dungeon or as a Defender. No, none of his skills remotely served for the role of Defender and while he could be trained, added political issues would be an added complication. When Rendrick mentioned his thoughts his Master agreed also pointing out that a northern barbarian only gained a minor advantage in resistance because of their cold weather experience, hardly a significant advantage even with a frost focused mage.


    Similar criticisms were placed on the other slaves; special diets, bonuses which would not be useful for a Defender, etc. Finally, the magical pair were left with two options. One was a Half-Ogre, trained as a guard by the local Baron, skilled with heavy armor, shield, and sword, sold as a slave because he was caught with a maid the Baron himself fancied, or that was the rumor as the slave master heard it.


    While the Half-Ogre seemed to be a perfect choice, the young Mage was intrigued by the Troll who stood next to the Half-Ogre, the bandages which wrapped around both hands up to the elbow was interesting considering the vaunted regeneration of trolls.


    Gesturing to his point of interest Rendrick inquired, ¡°Why is this Troll injured? Is his regeneration defective?¡±


    The slave master had a look as if presenting uncomfortable news since injuries to the merchandise shouldn¡¯t be needed, these slaves were collared and couldn¡¯t disobey without pain.


    ¡°Well Sir, the Troll tried to escape each time he woke up as they shipped him down here from where they caught him. Pain apparently doesn¡¯t mean much to him so they had to change the collar to the third level, fire or acid is about the only thing that actually slows their regeneration so that¡¯s what they settled on, fire. It will heal, not as fast as normal for a Troll, but faster than for a Human.¡±


    This news was interesting to both of the mages, a Defender can¡¯t be stopped by just pain, and a Defender who could recover as well as the fabled Trolls would be useful. Normally Mages would use fire fairly regularly, it was almost always the second Source that is purified since it allowed for so many offensive options, but with frost being Rendrick¡¯s primary attunement fire would be less useful. This might actually make a strong confluence between Defender and Mage, one largely immune to frost and the other focused on frost for his offense.


    Peaked their interest might be but there was still an important question left to ask. ¡°What are their Attunements? I know trolls usually have Rage or Nature and Ogre¡¯s Earth, what is the case here?¡± asked the Arch-Magus.


    This was the question the slave-master had been waiting for, the only reason he had included the troll in the selection.


    ¡°The Troll has Earth attunement while the Half-Ogre is attuned to Rage,¡± it took every skill level in merchant for the slave master to avoid smiling. Rage was worse than worthless for a Defender, it was useful for gladiators and other offensive focused work while Earth was aligned perfectly for defense. Placing these two selections together, was a masterstroke of marketing and was worth two skill ups in merchant for the slave master. Highlighting a rare selection with a slightly less useful alternative was a time-tested strategy.


    ¡°We will take the Troll, what is his name?¡± asked the Arch-Magus.


    At the word ¡®name¡¯, a word he had learned to recognize, the Troll looked up and with his guttural accent said ¡°Name. Gur-Dun.¡±

 Chapter 8 - Slave Training.

    When I left the slave quarters with my new master, the older one¡¯s power being the most frightening thing I had ever felt, I enjoyed some humor. I was a slave and I had to follow whatever instructions I was given¡­but my new master didn¡¯t speak troll and I didn¡¯t speak his language. I was enjoying stymying some of his efforts, he had to use gestures and pantomime to get me to follow instructions. Once I understood his command I had to follow it, but some instructions are difficult to explain. ¡°Into the carriage¡± is easy, ¡°no, that¡¯s my side to sit!¡± a bit more difficult.


    My internal laughter left quickly when the older man, his grey hair well combed and styled, reached into his pocket and removed a collar which in no way should have fit in the small pocket he pulled it from. This collar was made from some dark metal with tiny pits, it¡¯s outer surface was rough like cast iron while the inner surface was smooth and had a gentle silvery blue luster. The odd gem in the center of the collar was embedded directly into the metal and was held in position with a cage made of more of the silvery blue metal.


    When he reached forward grasping my chin with his hands, old and weathered but housing strength that was far more than I could resist, I froze up. The grip he had said clearly that this old man was able to kill me with but the casual strength of his hands let alone his magic. When the collar snapped closed I could feel the metal squirming and tightening down. When the mage let go of my chin I quickly examined the edge of the collar finding it bonded directly to my skin the odd metal flexing as my neck moved. While playing with my new necklace I felt my original slave collar snap and fall off in pieces.


    I almost smiled to be free of the hated collar, the pain caused when I tried to get it off was bad but Trolls don¡¯t fear pain, it¡¯s unpleasant but nothing like I thought the pain was supposed to be. The fire that it later caused was an entirely different experience, it hurt far after the injury was over and would not end.


    With an intense stare in his grey eyes, I was given my new instructions, ¡°There, now you can understand us and follow instructions. Protect Rendrick. Follow his instructions. Help him grow in power. Grow in power yourself,¡± said the older man.


    Even maintaining eye contact was difficult, it was like looking a tiger in the eye without the cage providing bravery. The truly horrible thing about the slave collar was that while I wanted to be free, it was only because it was one of my strongest responses to slavery that I could even try and resist the commands. My normal instinct would be to protect others in most situations, this was so reinforced by the collar that the idea of not protecting Rendrick barely entered my mind.


    The carriage soon dropped us off at a lovely manor, the drive up to the main building was lined with flowers and bushes, the central courtyard had a large water feature. When we arrived four men and a maid exited the main door and started to remove boxes and other supplies from the roof of the carriage. My exit, followed by the younger mage, caused a bit of a stir, my mostly naked state leaving the maid blushing and upset.


    Turning to me the younger man smiled and gestured me to my new ¡®home¡¯, ¡°Follow Wendel, he will direct you to a bath and a room to rest in. We will start early with new clothing. Food will be sent up.¡±


    Then, with a look of concern and I would say trepidation asked me, ¡°You¡­do you know what a bath is?¡±


    All I did was nod. I doubted this collar would be easy to get out of, but being underestimated as an idiot or primitive could only be in my favor. Rendrick just nodded with a pained smile and gestured me forward as if he was herding a shy animal. If he hadn¡¯t enslaved me it would have been almost endearing.


    The unloaded carriage quickly left carrying the older mage, something that calmed my nerves. Being near that mage was like standing next to a high voltage wire, what little hair was on my green arms stood on end, every primitive instinct I had said I needed to run and hide.


    The one thought I kept having over the next few weeks was ¡®this seems familiar¡¯. My life under my new ¡®master¡¯ fell into a pattern I was well familiar with; training. If it wasn¡¯t for the slave collar I wouldn¡¯t even be particularly annoyed with my position. I knew I wouldn¡¯t be able to stay with the Trolls, I had a modern mind and mindset, they lived in conditions so primitive that even Amazonian tribesmen would consider it pathetic. They existed in a world pre-stone age and it was unlikely I would be able to talk them out of their ways.


    The first day we didn¡¯t train, it was spent getting basic cotton clothing for me. With my extra long arms, slightly shorter legs and odd shoulders, none of the standard clothing would fit me. The maid was apparently skilled with tailoring and put together multiple sets of cotton shirts and pants with drawstrings. While the clothing was not particularly stylish, it was far nicer than anything I had before this.


    My new slave condition allowed me a place in society and as far as I could understand, a valued one. I was being trained with shields and one-handed blunt weapons, the mace I was given was so large that for a normal man it would easily be a two-handed weapon. I was given a huge weighted practice mace padded and sized to match the metal weapon. I was leveling up with one-handed blunt weapons quickly but my shield skill was raising far slower. I guessed that the difference was that there was some kind of synergy with my two-handed blunt skill, unlike with my shield skill, but that was mostly a guess.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    My days of training were far more relaxed than I thought they would be. I expected to be worked near to exhaustion each day, my magically enforced slavery being something I couldn¡¯t fight, in most cases I couldn¡¯t even consider fighting it. Instead, my days were mostly spent in practice forms with many rest breaks for food and drink, I worked far harder under Whisper then I did under Rendrick¡¯s Man-at-Arms, Telor.


    Eventually, Telor showed me what I had been doing wrong with my shield work. Once I realized that you had to angle the shield not just trust in thick arm bones and brute strength to overcome a strike, but instead use the angle and direction to your own advantage, my skill quickly rose.


    It was during one of these training matches where I spent the time only blocking as he worked hard to strike at me from different angles that I realized why my training was so slow. First, was something I should have considered from the start, I was a troll and I was nearly tireless, Telor was human and couldn¡¯t maintain strong and deadly strikes constantly hour after hour. Second, was the delivery on the third day by Meelon the maid, a new suit of padded armor.


    I had never seen armor like this, it was a soft leather long sleeve tunic and pants with what appeared to be rolled cloth sewn onto the outer surface in vertical strips. It looked like someone had rolled up towels and attached them to a hippies jacket. The look was silly but the protection was serious. I would imagine that stabbing a knife through or hacking a sword into it would be difficult and with a bit of cloth, needle, and thread it should be possible to repair it easily. Visions of my armor covered in mismatched fabrics, patches of stripes, plaid, and polka-dots swam through my head and the image nearly made me miss a strike from Telor.


    After the addition of my new padded armor, the training kicked up a notch. Telor was now going out of his way to strike at me instead of just letting me practice blocking. He was fine with me counter attacking with my padded mace, not that I was even able to hit the man. While white-haired and wrinkled, he moved like a man half his age. His constant banter while fighting was about war campaigns and full of advice on movements and fighting. It was like swinging at a hyperactive five-year-old car salesman who tries to pressure you through pure gab, all while he tries to brain you with a stick.


    ¡°So we were marching through the valley - dumb ass thought it would speed us up, we were looking for an ambush and he wanted to go faster? While taking the low ground? - so we are marching along and arrows just come flying over the hill! Raise that arm! It¡¯s a shield, not a cod-piece! So after ten or so men start blowing blood bubbles we turn and charge the hill, not much more we could do, attacking uphill into archer fire sucks. Would have died if they had a mage, but then again we would have died if we had the high ground if they had a mage anyways so that¡¯s not saying much.¡±


    With a casual shrug, while still chattering on, Telor slapped my shield hard to the right, using my miss aligned shield to tangle up my right arm¡¯s swing then proceeded to test out the padding of my new armor with a few well-placed blows.


    ¡°You have two legs you know; move, move, move! The only time you stand and fight is if you need to keep them bottled up and off your mage. Otherwise get in there and frighten them. Shove them around, don¡¯t just stand back and swing at them. Shove that shield through their ranks. I¡¯m just one man, you outweigh me, put me on my ass!¡±


    Of course, the moment I tried to drive forward and shove him on his ass using my shield I found myself jabbed in the throat with his practice mace and then slammed over the head as I reflexively grasped at my neck.


    With a nasty chuckle, Telor continued, ¡°You heal fast, you need to work on those reflex flinch and protection movements. That or just don¡¯t get hit in those places. A good kick to the boys tends to make any man flinch though. Work on it.¡±


    I had learned with Whisper early on that the training doesn¡¯t stop until he had decided it was over, and Telor was the same way. So when thirty minutes later a large crash of wood and metal happened behind me at the edge of the training arena I never even glanced over. I watched Telor¡¯s whole body flinch as he suppressed the movement to strike at me. He had been waiting for that crash in order to provide a lesson in situational awareness, or as he called it ¡®Pay fucking attention!¡¯


    It was another thirty minutes of being smacked around before Telor called a halt to our practice and pointed me towards the crate of distraction which had almost earned me a beating. With a smirk, he gestured for me to open up the wooden box. Inside was chainmail, steel plate, a very oddly shaped stylized helm that would fit and emphasize the large jaw structure my troll heritage gave me, combined with leather straps to belt all of the metal on my frame.


    Wearing plate armor had been exactly what I had thought I would be using, given that broken bones not punctures and cuts were my bigest concern, but now I realized I would be getting exactly what I had been expecting, I just hadn¡¯t known how armor worked. I was thinking of this as a game, plate armor being worn right on the character, but real plate armor has padding and chain mail and a whole host of other things involved, far more than I had been familiar with.


    ¡°Ok, pull off that cheap armor, let¡¯s get you into the chain mail first, we will work our way up to the full gear soon enough,¡± Telor said as he started throwing bits and pieces at me, ¡°You should have enough strength to use it even without a few breakthroughs under your belt. The first few layers of the dungeon will just need you to get in the way of the dangerous stuff, not actually fight it. The master will kill that trash off quick enough.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure what ¡®breakthroughs¡¯ were but I had a feeling it was like leveling up in a game, though given the number of times I had been wrong about the differences between a game and real life I was not holding out much hope.


    ¡°Well, strip and move it grunt!¡±


    So began the next phase of my training, the heavy armor skill, and my new burning hate for Telor.

 Chapter 9 - Applicants

    The study that Rendrick took as his own to use for the interviews for Porter typified his father. Solid stone floor, constructed through magic, large stone bricks setting the walls, thick old wood shelving housing books on magic. The only point of leisure in the room was the uncushioned solid wood chair behind the large oak desk. Situated behind the imposing wood construct, hands gently resting on the table top, Rendrick did not speak and only nodded at Telor to see in the next applicant.


    Opening the thick iron and wood door Telor gestured the next applicant in. Short and curvy with a strong athletic build, the young lady passed the others waiting in line down the hall and entered then closed the door behind her. With a small bobbing bow, a nod of her head to Rendrick, the young lady walked forward towards the seat situated directly in front of the young mage.


    Curtsying towards Rendrick again the dark-haired beauty suddenly lunged forward from her curtsy, her hand whipping a throwing knife directly towards Rendrick¡¯s head. Without pause, the young lady pulled a small knife from her sleeve and jumped across the desk only to meet Talor¡¯s blade head on. The thrown knife passed directly through Rendrick¡¯s head as if a stone through water, only a tiny ripple in the illusion of the young mage telling the tale of its existence.


    The following fight between Telor and the young assassin was quick and bloody, youth versus cunning, experience, and a prepared trap. The assassin was dead in very short order. A large steel-clad door pushed through the illusion of the solid stone wall on the far side of the room and let in two slaves who quickly removed the body and cleaned the blood from the room. The use of rose scented water clearing the coppery smell of blood and death.


    The illusion planted squarely behind the desk turned toward Telor and asked, ¡°So, what is that? Twenty-three assassination attempts today? Do you think any of the applicants are actually real?¡±


    Still wiping his blade clean Rendrick¡¯s Man-At-Arms chuckled, ¡°My lord, these are the stupid assassins or the ones forced under slave contract. These are the ones who never noticed that no one left the room, but that the room only had one entrance. We will have to whittle the list down for a while before we find the real applicants. You¡¯re in a battle for your life here, gain power or die, these are the ones being thrown away just to test the waters.¡±


    The image of Rendrick sighed and reached away from his table then made the motion of drinking, the cup hidden somewhere in another room, invisible to the illusion gem embedded in the office table. Rendrick thought back to when his father, his master, told him of the security precautions and his thoughts on it being paranoid; now he considered them being perhaps too simple.


    After setting the invisible cup down the illusionary projection of Rendrick continued, ¡°I just wish there was a way to filter out the assassins from the applicants without the bloodshed.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s easy. Any of them¡¯s that come from a foreign area and are lithe and strong, muscular but not bulky? Those are probably assassins. The slight and pretty ones which wait? Those ones will be assassins who are hopin¡¯ to avoid being slave contracted, they will wait till right before the contracting to try and kill you, maybe hope to seduce you beforehand,¡± said Telor as he returned his now cleaned sword to his scabbard.


    ¡°If you can identify them, why don¡¯t you remove them from the list?¡± asked Rendrick hesitantly.


    ¡°If you see a wasp nest, you kill the wasps, you don¡¯t just let them sit there because they ain¡¯t trying to sting you at that particular moment,¡± with a snort Telor continued, ¡°Huh, I got a skill up both in teaching and spycraft from explaining that.¡±


    It was a deep philosophical discussion if a skill level was descriptive or prescriptive. That is to say, did a skill level simply say what you were capable of or did it determine the limits of what you could do? Both camps agreed though that when a skill-up occurred, it was an indicator of something important and that it should be considered carefully, with more effort revolving in the same area. Pointing out his skill-ups, a pair of them, indicated pretty clearly that Telor knew what he was talking about.


    ¡°Very well, but select one that you think is a real applicant. I¡¯m getting weary of the killing, let¡¯s see some progress,¡± Rendrick said attempting to match his fathers arrogantly commanding tone but sounding far more uncomfortable and a bit queasy.


    Shortly afterward, Telor directed a young woman into the room. Her broad and stocky body was hunched forward, her arms tightly clasped around her elbows. Head down the young woman made her way to the unclaimed chair in the center of the room. Her clothing was rough homespun, tan without dye or embellishment, her shoes simple leather soles sewn with straps. After slowly lowering herself into the chair she made a small ¡®mep!¡¯ sound and quickly rose, only to give a quick curtsy and then plunked herself back into the chair.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    For a short moment of silence, Rendrick considered the differences between the previous assassins and the current applicant, the contrast clearly explaining how Telor could identify them.


    ¡°What is your name?¡± began Telor.


    ¡°Meddy my Lord,¡± came the rough and whispered words from the young lady.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a Lord girl, I¡¯m a servant just like you want to become, look at the mage if you are going to be saying that.¡±


    Slowly lowering her arms, Meddy clasped her hands together and started to wring her hands as she worked to raise her face past the waterfall of her hair. The face so shown matched the body of the girl, broad and rough, with wide square teeth. With a deep breath, the girl seemed to come to some decision and straightened up and looked Rendrick directly in the eye.


    ¡°I¡¯m an orphan and half-dwarf my lord, no one will hire me to work in a house or home. I can¡¯t apprentice anywhere for any trade, my only real option is to work some mine somewhere and get paid less to do it. I would rather be a high regard slave, one that can¡¯t be excused. A Porter of a mage¡¯s house is never let go, I could end up working as the tower¡¯s chef, or maybe work the stables, or head maid, or...or um¡­¡± with that the girls head dipped down and almost whispered as she continued, ¡°you could have me as a concubine,¡± then with a bit of hurry in her voice, ¡°or something else, but you won¡¯t get rid of me and I can live a better life.¡±


    Without a flinch, to the heartrending tale, Telor continued, ¡°Why should you be hired? We know why you want him to hire you, but you haven¡¯t yet said why he should want to hire you?¡±


    With a slight bite of her lip, an expression which proved how young the lady was, she continued, ¡°Um, I¡¯m half dwarf, so I¡¯m strong, I know a Porter carries the food and stuff into the dungeon, I can carry more than any of those little ones out in the hall,¡± so saying her broad mouth quirked up into a slightly smug smile.


    ¡°This is Arch-Magus Voren¡¯s son, you know, the only enchanter capable of making dimensional bags? The man could carry a year''s worth of supplies in a small backpack himself. He is only following the Porter tradition to keep the other mages from thinking he is going to cause waves like his dad did when he came to power.¡±


    With this pronouncement the young woman curled up again on her self, her arms crossed again and clasping her elbows. Her head dipped as her hair covered her face. Telor¡¯s face never changed as he watched the woman''s dreams be crushed.


    Rendrick spoke out, interrupting the questioning, ¡°What more can you do? Since the role of Porter is mostly tradition, it means I could use someone with other skills besides just a stout back.¡±


    Without looking up beyond her hair Meddy answered, ¡°My lord, I know stone like the rest of my kin, and my attunement is metal so I can sense if something is a true prize or just coated pot metal, no coin will enter your purse that is just plating.¡±


    Glancing at each other the two men nodded, Rendrick then gestured to lead the girl out. Once the young girl had left the room they began to discuss the most recent applicant.


    ¡°She has potential my lord, a bit shy and wilting, but you should have that for your first concubine,¡± Telor said while smirking at the obviously blushing mage.


    Quickly Rendrick snapped his hand out in a wave as if to cut off the discussion, ¡°I know why the slavery system exists, and I understand it¡¯s a necessity, but let¡¯s not be crude here. I won¡¯t be ordering anyone into my bed.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think you will need to be ordering her. I would just worry that she will be angry when she figures out the young man in her head and in her bed ain''t the same thing. Though being the shining prince who saves her will get her on your side. It¡¯s always better to have willing slaves then unwilling, never mind what the contract enforces.¡±


    Their discussion then devolved into talks about what a strong Porter like Meddy would be able to provide. While it was true that a weight reduction dimensional bag could be carried by either Rendrick or his Defender, having another carry the load was safer for both, with the extra capabilities of Meddy they could consider carrying around repair gear, better sleeping equipment, and even secondary armaments. She wasn¡¯t the only applicant they would be considering today, but her attunement and racial skill with stone were both interesting bonuses to consider.


    Once Rendrick¡¯s team had made it far enough into the dungeon to be safe from outside attack it was his plan to consider trying to purify another source, his Defenders earth attunement would help by providing a ¡®taste¡¯ of that mana type, but the far rarer metal source would be a nice addition instead.


    There was, unfortunately, a downside to contracting Meddy, her half-breed status would be another slap at tradition when most mages focused on human supremacy against the older races. It wasn¡¯t actually against any rules or even truly against tradition, but for those mages looking for an excuse to attack it would be enough. None cared what your Defender was, they were usually seen as dumb weapons of war or defense, but a mage''s Porter was usually the first among firsts within their eventual tower.


    When it came down to it though at the end of the day Rendrick just preferred Meddy, she was shy and respectful but had a bit of fire when it was needed, but more he was a sucker for someone who was pushed by circumstance to do something hard and dangerous to succeed. She reminded him of himself, circumstances demanded success or death and he was going to give her the chance.

 Chapter 10 - To the cave!

    I scare the ever-loving bejeebus out of Meddy. The few interactions I had with her consisted of group work with Rendrick, trying to learn to work as a team in formations and protecting the mage. Every time I looked her way I could literally smell terror coming from her. I hadn¡¯t been aware that terror had a smell, but it was apparently very clear to a troll.


    I tried to sooth the young ladies terror by smiling at her gently when we were near each other during a rest period. Forgetting of course that I have multiple rows of razor sharp teeth and slightly slitted yellow eyes combined with a muscular build which would make most body-builders jealous. The results of my gentle


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to hurt you¡± smile was a new skill.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">New Skill Learned!</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    [Intimidation] (Novice 45) - Your opponent¡¯s emotions can be a useful tool, both in and out of combat. Intimidation is all about frightening your opponent into making mistakes in attacks, talks, trade, or retreat. The basics of intimidation are based on your perception as frightening, the advanced stages require knowledge about your targets mindset and circumstances.


    Ineffective against some opponents, ie. Mindless creatures or controlled/constructed creatures.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    So, not exactly a successful result. I keep forgetting that I¡¯m not human but instead a large green and scary creature out of legend and myth with a horrific visage. It¡¯s was easy to plan strategies around being silent and listening in, after all, a savage like me would never understand the gossip from the help. That kind of thing is easy, but the social interactions are far more difficult to keep in mind. I don¡¯t think of myself as big and scary, as frightening and other than human, but it¡¯s obvious that no one expects me to be anything but large, deadly, and scary.


    Sighing I focused back on the practice, now with a bit more distance between me and Meddy. Rendrick and Telor had no such trouble interacting with me. I couldn¡¯t decide if that was because they were confident they could kill me because I was a slave, or because of something else. Telor treated me gruffly but no different then he treated any other person. I think that he only had one real way of interacting with others, as subordinates; probably came from his years in the military. Rendrick acted like I was an ignorant, but not stupid, human. Again, almost endearing if he hadn¡¯t enslaved me.


    Soon our last practice period came to an end and we prepared ourselves for the trip to the dungeon. The logistics of the process hadn¡¯t been explained to me, but when the older mage walked out of an odd distortion in the air, it became clear that some kind of teleportation was in order. The distortion slowly appeared like a heat shimmer in a desert in the middle of the training field, the air twisting and warping then shifting in color as well as shape. Out of this odd ripple, a strange black spot grew, then in the middle of the pitch black circle a clear window into another room appeared. Slowly the window grew to the size of a large door and the wizard stepped through.


    The ground directly where the portal appeared was sheared through and distorted like a giant had dug their fingers in and churned the earth. I was only guessing, but I would assume touching the black disc would result in a very bad time.


    After the master''s arrival, the footmen and the maid quickly appeared to ask if he wanted a drink or a snack. The way they instantly responded to make sure he was in perfect health was a bit disgusting to me. But to his credit, he waved away their concerns almost good-naturedly and directed Telor to arrange for our departure.


    I was already prepared to go. I had my full armor on, my huge shield on my left arm, my gigantic mace in my right hand and my frightening full helm situated on my pumpkin sized noggin. That was all I was really taking, everything else would be carried by Meddy in one of her dimensional packs. As such that was where Telor spent most of his time checking to see she had everything and that it was secured. I was glad, I would hate to find out my bedroll, pillow, oh, and the food was missing after getting into the dungeon.


    While Telor fussed with Meddy, I tried to unobtrusively wander over next to Rendrick who was talking with the older mage. They weren¡¯t trying to be private about their discussion but it was also obvious they were not exactly eager to share with the whole world what they were talking about. That seemed like a discussion I should listen in on.


    ¡°¡­news on who it was?¡± Rendrick asked.


    ¡°Nothing, it could have been any of them, all of them, individually, collectively,¡± shrugging the Arch-Magus continued, ¡°I¡¯ve pissed a lot of people off over the years and hurting you would be the next best thing to hurting me. Especially since once you enter the dungeon I no longer officially have any ties to you. Heck, it could be your brother.¡±


    ¡°Half-brother,¡± snapped Rendrick.


    Arch-Magus Voren just smiled sadly at Rendrick¡¯s words.


    I didn¡¯t know what was going on, but it was deeply fascinating how those two interacted, it was kind of like seeing behind the scenes between two heads of state after the cameras shut off.


    Of course my sneak skill was terrible so of course, both of them noticed me just standing oh so casually near their conversation, not listening in at all, nope! That broke up the discussion quickly and the older mage directed both of us over to the last minute checking of Meddy¡¯s gear.


    I had been practicing teamwork with Rendrick for weeks now, I had watched him regularly cast spells during practice. Rendrick would stop, concentrate, mutter to himself, sometimes move his hands and fingers, and then cast his spell. The entire process was obviously difficult and required a large amount of focused concentration. When I had asked about his muttering and finger fiddling he said that it was just memory aids and that pure concentration was all that was truly needed. Arch-Magus Voren demonstrated the true difference between himself and his son in the quick walk back to Meddy.


    Without a word, gesture, or even looking in its direction Arch-Magus Voren summoned a portal behind himself which connected to the camp before the dungeons mountain peak entrance. I couldn¡¯t imagine that this spell was simpler than Rendrick''s frost spells, it had to be far more difficult, but the elder mage made it seem almost instinctual, casual almost. Once we had all moved through the portal I watched Vorens eyes and there was only the barest of flicker of inattention in his eyes as he closed the portal. I literally shuddered as I thought of the truly apocalyptic amount of power these mages carried within them.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    The peak of the mountain where we would be diving into the dungeon was cool and windy, ice and snow lay on the ground and on every surface. The scent of tree sap and the crisp smell of fresh mountain air was invigorating after so much time spent in the dusty practice field. The camp was an area surrounded by large jutting stones with only two exits, the mouth of the cave that was the lowest difficulty entrance to the dungeon, and the dirt trail which traveled down the mountain. The large stone barricade around the camp had to have been created by magic, the large stones, some the size of carriages, was stacked four and five layers high.


    Glancing around, the old mage nodded then began to give us our last instruction, ¡°I will wait here with an illusion of your group for the next three days. This will allow you to get further into the dungeon unmolested. My wards are keyed to magical power, so if a mage tries to enter I will be able to come and kill them since they will be trespassing. I doubt any will do that. What I do expect to happen is that sometime after I leave a troop of mercenaries will climb the mountain and head in. Plausibly deniable you see. No way I should be hovering over the entrance like that, smacks of protecting you and we all know a mage would never play favorites like that.¡±


    I looked at Meddy and Rendrick but neither seemed surprised by the idea of a troop of mercenaries trying to track us down within the dungeon. This lack of information sharing is going to cause me problems I can already see.


    ¡°I would bet a stronger group will probably try and come in from the lower entrance as well, that group is probably as good as dead. They won¡¯t have a mage with them and that will be needed at that level. My suggestion -and I know I can no longer command you but please take my advice- is that you should make your way into the dungeon as far as you safely can, find a secure location you can easily defend, and let your Defender work on a few breakthroughs as you work to purify a Source or two. The change in power will make you far harder to kill and will serve you well further into the dungeon.¡±


    Rendrick nodded to his father and former mentor and said, ¡°That is my plan, somewhere around the Kobolds or if we have difficulties at the Goblins. I was planning for at least a three-month wait, possibly as long as four. I¡¯m not eager to search out a new place to gain power and we have more than enough supplies with us. It will be rough and boring, but power isn¡¯t about pleasant things.¡±


    The tone of voice in which Rendrick said that last line made it sound like a much-repeated message he had been subjected to often. From the smile on Voren¡¯s face, I could guess where he heard it from.


    Before we headed in Rendrick created a party and invited us into it. The entire process was decidedly odd. Unlike with the windows which appeared in my mind and was ¡®visible¡¯ in some sense, the party invite was purely a mental construct without a corresponding mental visual. I just ¡®knew¡¯ that Rendrick wanted me to fight with him and that Meddy was also invited. I just ¡®knew¡¯ that I had accepted and that Meddy had also agreed. The entire process was odd, invasive, and deeply disconcerting.


    With a good-natured slap on my shoulder, Rendrick pointed us towards the dungeon. Tapping the enchanted glow stone embedded in the brow of my helm to get it to light up I entered the mouth of the dungeon. That it was a dungeon and not some naturally formed cave was instantly apparent. Stepping inside I could feel¡­something¡­appraising me. There was an impersonal but gentle touch across my body and mind, lightly inspecting me for something.


    The air within the cave was warmer than outside, the floor rough but without dirt or grime, normally an impossibility in a cave like this. The other obvious difference was the mana that swirled through the air. I was normally pretty oblivious to the movement of magic. Standing directly next to Rendrick when he had cast his largest area-of-effect frost spell I could feel only the gentlest of change in the air from the movement of mana. Only the Arch-Magus caused any real impact on my atrophied or nascent mana sense. Not so the case with the dungeon entrance, I could feel the magic ebbing like the waves on the ocean.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what we would be fighting at first. I knew that it would be relatively simple and easy, I had been told that would be the case for a good distance into the dungeon. It was the way the dungeon lured in adventurers, make it seem far easier, then it would suddenly increase the difficulty. I knew all of this. I just didn¡¯t expect the slimes.


    Small balls of animate snot, no larger than my, admittedly large, boot. Most of them flopped and squirmed and wiggled, seemingly completely aimless. As they moved they removed any dirt or dust from the floor of the cave which explained why the entrance was so clean. While the balls of goop looked like they would leave a gross snail trail behind them, they instead seemed to roll away leaving a dry clean space.


    My first real opponent was as pathetic as I thought it would be. I walked forward, held my mace out over the slime and let my arm swing down almost gently. The slime popped like a water balloon. Given my longer than human arms and extra large mace, I didn¡¯t even need to bend down to kill the little squishy monster. But that first kill amazed me. I felt something wonderful flow into my body and mind. It was like liquid electricity gently massaging my brain.


    I knew it was animus, the conversion of mana which creates living things and that with enough of it I would experience a breakthrough. I had pieced things together from Telor¡¯s rambles during practice combined with some judicious questions, questions Telor was all too happy to answer through long diatribes. But nowhere did anyone explain that it would feel that amazing.


    That was the only excuse I had for my mistake. I was distracted by the wonderful discovery of how animus feels. Meddy was talking to Rendrick and running around collecting what was salvageable from the slimes. Rendrick was chatting nicely, and I was casually walking along and smushing slimes. Killing them required absolutely no effort on my part, I could do it while walking unhindered. That¡¯s is my explanation for why I didn¡¯t notice that the puddle I stepped into was a slime and not just water.


    For a troll, there are only really three things which can end you, if you are well fed that is: fire, acid, and dismemberment. Now being chopped up was something I was hoping to avoid, but what I had learned to fear was fire. Fire hurts and it hurts a troll in a way that normal breaks and cuts don¡¯t. Something about becoming a troll dulled pain for me. I knew that pain should be, well, painful, but I shrugged off in training with Whisper lacerations and breaks routinely. Fire though, the burns from the slave collar, that pain stuck around. I quickly learned that acid was worse. Far, far more painful in fact.


    Once the slime started to eat into my foot -ignoring entirely the leather sole, padding, and metal foot covering- I started to bellow in pain. My reaction was quick and precise. I slammed my mace into my foot as hard as I could. I felt the bones in my foot shatter, the plate covering inverted instantly, and blood squirted out of my mangled foot. The pain and agony I experienced from my strike were nearly blissful compared to the pain of my skin melting. Even as the animus from the crushed slime rushed into my body the pain from the acid continued to bite into my limb.


    Rendrick called a halt to let me recover while Meddy cowered away from my obvious anger and pain, but it was the window that popped up that caused me to freeze. The window suggested a path to power, a way to greatness, a way that I knew I had to take the moment it occurred to me, I couldn¡¯t do anything else, I couldn¡¯t even conceive of not reaching for that power. But the way to gain it, the road I would have to travel caused me to break out in a cold sweat.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">New Trait!</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    [Resistant Skin] - After recovering from acid damage your [Troll Regeneration] has increased the density and defense of the affected skin. Provides slight resistance to fire, acid, cold, and slashing in the improved area of skin without loss of sensation.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Trembling in terror from the coming pain I asked Meddy for a container and then went hunting for a slime to store for my future ¡®training¡¯.

 Chapter 11 - Breakthrough

    With a grunt of effort, I slammed my mace into the ground from an overhead swing. Little chips of rock flew in every direction, pinging off my armor and embedding themselves into the large slime creature. Sadly, the most damage I had done to the slime had been from the stray chips, the four other holes surrounding me a testament to the ability of the creature to dodge.


    Unlike the last three slimes of this size, this one came with a new trick. After the first miss, the creature surprised me by slamming a hard horn-shaped object into my breastplate, the spine shooting out of the slime at high speed. Backing up and resetting I waited until the slime hit me in the breastplate again before lunging forward and slamming my shield edge on into the slime. The weird plastic like creature resisted for a moment then ripped along the section I had cleaved my shield into. This had been the first with the spine so I wasn¡¯t surprised to feel the new extra resistance. The fact that both parts tried to attack me moments after I pulled back my shield was a surprise, but with its injury induced sluggishness, the mace solved the problem soon after.


    ¡°Ok, it looks like we need to start using magic from here out,¡± said my annoyingly casual mage.


    Even as I understood the plan to get a feel for our respective capabilities, I couldn¡¯t help but feel grumpy sweating inside my armor as I worked hard to kill creatures that he could kill with just a bit of effort. This was proven to me as we continued on with him assisting. Walking towards a new creature he would stop, glare in concentration at the large slime and then a finger sized bolt of arctic frost would slam into the large ooze, slowing the monster so severely that I could return to my casual walk and bash routine.


    ¡°Um¡­uh¡­just¡­just a second, please.¡±


    This timid request came from our Porter as she was attempting to chip the ice surrounding the core of one of the large slimes that had just been killed. Motioning Meddy away Rendrick paused and cupped his right hand in the air as if he was gathering water in a rainstorm, muttering for a few seconds he then overturned his softly red glowing hand and poured out the liquid fire over the slime.


    I had been lead to believe that he was only a frost mage and that he hadn¡¯t yet ¡®purified a source¡¯ for fire yet, whatever that meant. This would throw away a bit more of my idiot act but I needed to understand what was going on, the rules of magic here were probably going to be something that could get me killed if I failed to understand them.


    ¡°How you make fire? Thought frost mage. No have fire source?¡± I asked, trying for a broken but still understandable question.


    The look of guilt on his face was clear, apparently, he had done something he shouldn¡¯t have. What it was I couldn¡¯t guess. Shrugging away the look he stomped over to another of the sludgy slimes and stomped at the creatures remains until the core was free. I assisted with the last one as Meddy started pulling the core from the now bubbling slime that Rendrick had used liquid fire on. I just watched and waited as I was sure Rendrick would eventually answer. My patience was rewarded as he stopped his kicking of the corpse and sighed then turned to me and answered.


    ¡°Any mage can use any type of magic. The more you understand that type of magic the easier it is. I had to convert my, well ¡®pure¡¯ magic into a liquid flame type. There are more types of magic than there are stars in the sky, the less you understand about the type you are using and the further it is from any source you have purified, the more expensive the conversion from pure mana to the type you want becomes.¡±


    Looking a bit sheepish he continued as he rocked back and forth on his feet, the image of a young child being caught with his fingers in the cookie jar.


    ¡°That spell cost me a bit more than half of my mana. Master never let me cast a spell too far from frost, said it was a bad idea to play to your weaknesses in a dangerous situation.¡±


    Now I understood what was going on. He had been playing around, experimenting, and asking about it reminded him that he wasn¡¯t just out on a lark, he was in a place that could result in death if he made a mistake. The danger wasn¡¯t that extreme yet, but in a dungeon that could change suddenly. I had already experienced more than one painful lesson proving that.


    My hand involuntarily went to the glass jar at the small of my back tied to my belt in a leather pouch. I knew I would be using my slime in a painful training, but I was still dreading it. I could feel the cold sweat drying on my head from just the thought. Shaking away the thought I turned back to watching the darkness as I waited for Meddy to finish collecting the slime cores. I knew that they were useful in some kind of enchanting process and that in the future Rendrick would use them to enhance our gear, but it hadn¡¯t been made clear to me how that worked.


    Shortly we moved out again wandering through the dimly lit caves. The air was dry and unlike a normal cave, the air smelled clean and not stuffy in the slightest. I vaguely wondered how that was done even as I slowly cast my sight to the wall, floor, and ceiling as I walked. I had no plans to miss an obvious attack vector like the ceiling and my diligence was soon rewarded as I watched a light brown slime slink along the ceiling just out of reach, it¡¯s body closely blending in with its perch. I wasn¡¯t sure how smart these creatures were, or if the dungeon itself was directing them, but I feigned ignorance even as I took a tighter grip on my shield and mace.


    When the slime was a few feet ahead it started to bunch itself much as the horned slimes had before it. When it lunged at my head, I was ready and swatted the pseudopod out of the air. The impact ripped the slime from the ceiling and spun it into a very odd landing against a wall of the tunnel. As much as these creatures seemed to be uniform, they obviously had a ¡®right side up¡¯ since the slime was trying to flow around and right itself. This gave me enough time to stride forward and slam a few well-placed smacks against the moving liquid threat.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    When the slime died and slumped into the now familiar puddle on death I was waiting for the now expected rush of animus but this was far beyond the normal sensation. Comparing this to the standard feeling of animus was like comparing lovemaking to a kiss. I braced myself as the wave slowly washed over my body until I felt I could get a hold of myself.


    ¡°Did you make a breakthrough? I was wondering when that was coming. Make your changes and I¡¯ll keep an eye out,¡± Rendrick said then turned to watch the dark tunnel, even Meddy took up station in the rear watching for trouble.


    When I checked my status it was difficult to keep my eyes from bulging out.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="3">Status</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">Name: Gur-dun</td>


    <td style="text-align: center">Race: Tel-duth Forest Troll</td>


    <td style="text-align: center">Attunement: Earth</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center">Health: 97%</td>


    <td style="text-align: center">Stamina: 89%</td>


    <td style="text-align: center">Mana: 100%</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>Strength: 18 (+)</td>


    <td>Dexterity: 13</td>


    <td>Agility: 15</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>Vitality: 30 (+++)</td>


    <td>Endurance: 24 (++)</td>


    <td>Resistance: 14</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>Intelligence: 15</td>


    <td>Wisdom: 12</td>


    <td>Control: 17</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="3">Traits</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3">[Endless Hunger]


    [Resistant Skin]</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="text-align: center" colspan="3">Skills</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3">[Troll Regeneration] (Beginner 33)


    [Improved Metabolism] (Novice 76)


    [Carpentry - Weapon] (Novice 24)


    [1 Handed Blunt] (Beginner 5)


    [2 Handed Blunt] (Novice 89)


    [Shield] (Novice 45)


    [Light Armor] (Novice 65)


    [Heavy Armor] (Novice 88)


    [Intimidation] (Novice 45)</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Each of my stat¡¯s had increased, especially the stats I had been leaning on during training, but the stat¡¯s that had the plus marks next to them increased far more than any of the others. Changing where those marks rested would change the focus for each breakthrough. I had a feeling that my resistance stat would increase significantly after I start my painful slime training. Resistance was not just around resistance to magic, but resistance to any type of status affliction, pain and fear included.


    Once I returned my focus from the internal status window I watched Rendrick nod and gesture me forward again, ¡°watch out, dungeons like to hit people after breakthroughs, people get cocky,¡± I could see that.


    That first breakthrough came within the first hour of hunting within the dungeon. We fought through for the rest of the day with the difficulty remaining roughly as it had been, mostly larger horned slimes with the occasional small slime mixed in, a few hidden as puddles like the one which had injured me before. While I had been expecting another breakthrough to happen at any time, as the day wound on and neither Rendrick or Meddy said anything, I started to get the picture that it was a slow and tedious process with each breakthrough taking much longer than the last. When we stopped for the night we tucked ourselves into a small dead end cave, most of the room taken up with the red glowing heat stone Meddy pulled from a pack.


    Pulling out my sleep pad I trudged to the entrance corridor and silently took first watch. My plan was to wait till my teammates were asleep to begin my slime training. Soon enough the smell of well-cooked meat wafted down the hallway, the light stones we stuck to the corridor walls ceiling and floor letting us know that no enemies were coming for our meal. Meddy cut off a large chunk of meat, it appeared to be some kind of goat, the skin crips and bubbly from the close proximity to the glowing gem. Hair covering her face she made her way to me and held the wooden plate with food out towards me to the extent of her arms.


    ¡°Thanks, Meddy, smells good.¡±


    You would think that I had growled and snapped at the poor girl the way she moved away from me. I doubted my ¡®dumb primitive¡¯ act would be something I could keep up with that kind of fear around. Eventually, I would be driven to calm the girl, my protective instincts not allowing for anything else. I knew it was a dumb thing to do, the longer I could find things out while being discounted the better, but I just felt like flinching myself every time she flinched in fear.


    Sighing, I returned to eating my meat, the food filling my empty belly. I wasn¡¯t exactly tired, the fights today far less challenging then Telor¡¯s training. But I was dusty, sweaty, and fatigued from the mental strain of watching every direction for hours waiting to be attacked. Strangely the fights themselves being so easy just made the strain worse, I kept expecting something more dangerous to pop out and attack.


    After our meal and a judicious use of a pan of heated water to clean the eating supplies, Meddy and Rendrick settled down to sleep, the heated stone being reduced to a light glow of warmth. The light from the hallway bright and shining into the dead-end cave while I stared at the jar containing the light blue slime. Eventually, I couldn¡¯t pretend to myself that I was still waiting for my team to settle down rather than avoiding my plan.


    Pulling the odd ceramic lid from the top of the jar, the leather strap that wrapped around the lid and buttoned around the base was difficult to pull off with my less than dexterous troll hands. Carefully I looked into the jar watching as the slime only barely sloshed around, it¡¯s time stoppered in the jar apparently either hurting it our causing it to go into some kind of torpor. Placing my hand over the mouth of the container I tipped the jar over into the cup of my hand.


    Moments after landing on my hand the slime started to squirm and move around, apparently, the slime had been hungry and the taste of my flesh was something it deeply enjoyed. It was only a few seconds but when I tipped the jar back over I could see a perfectly circular spot of pinkish meat in the center of my hand, the green skin was completely eaten away. Capping the jar I continued watching the hallway while I made every effort to keep from yelling. Within a half an hour my hand had a circle of slightly darker green skin. While the darker color would make it easier to be sure I had converted all of an area, the throbbing pain which seemed to continue endlessly in a perfect mark in my hand indicated that it was probably unneeded. The pain would mark the way just as well.


    Wordlessly I reached for the jar again.