《Gilgamesh [Grimdark LitRPG]》 Book 1: Strands of Fate The war started at the behest of the elves when they were still one people. The First Children spoke of the great devourer, the herald of the end that would consume all things and leave this world a shriveled, cold husk of rock. They predicted that Mana, the god-gift which flowed through all things, the giver of life and the hope of the future, would be ended by this grave new threat. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. The place between dreams and reality is where the mind can wander freely, unencumbered by the constraints of this world. It is a place of boundless imagination. There, I had flown over vast endless plains of grass filled with giant majestic animals, walled cities filled with stout armored knights, and witnessed the awesome power of desert-dwelling sandworms. A cold breeze played across from the open window, bringing with it the sounds of an awakening city. The radio blared out the morning news, the announcer''s sonorous voice filling the emptiness of my small room and waking me. Lately, the dreams had been growing more vivid, more real, I mused as I forced myself to get out of bed. I almost tripped over a pile of books in my rush to the sink, only correcting myself by flailing my hands to keep my balance like some demented cartoon character. Staring into the mirror, my mind turned once more to the dreams; how stimulating would it be to live in a world like that? After quickly brushing my teeth and getting dressed, I had a quick search in the mini fridge in my room. The investigation revealed a half-eaten chocolate bar and a loaf with mold merrily growing on it. I quickly scarfed the bar down while hurriedly placing the moldy loaf in my bag along with some books that I would need for the day. Moving to the door to leave, I noticed a new letter from the management company of the building. I already knew it was going to be asking me to pay this month¡¯s rent which was already two weeks late. My last job didn''t pay as well as it had promised, so I would have to beg or borrow money from friends this month; or, heaven forbid, from my parents. How could they charge so much for such a terrible room? There was a leak in the roof, and the place was permanently damp in winter. Making sure to lock the door, I decided to take the long way to school through the park. I passed a jogger going the opposite direction who was determined on destroying their eardrums with the loud music blaring from her headphones. For a moment, I was sure I heard the sound of an army marching to the beat of war... And then the wild neigh of a warhorse was abruptly replaced by the harsh honking of a car in reality as a stray cat crossed the road. Snapping out of it, I crossed into the park and was greeted by familiar birdsong. Few people used the park at this time in the morning, and for a few precious moments, it felt like this section of the park was truly mine. Lately, I had the recurring notion that my life had been spiraling out of control. My phone buzzed, breaking the peace of the morning. More spam. The display picture was the same, a picture her. My recent break-up had done more damage to my confidence than I cared to admit, and it had started to affect my studies and my part-time job. I replayed in my mind the phone conversation with her again, my curt "Okay," before putting the phone down. Should I have begged instead? Bought a present with my non-existent money? Round and round the scenarios swirled. Torturing myself with these thoughts, I continued walking through the park until I reached a small pond. Ducks swam lazily across the brown surface, quacking and occasionally diving down to feed, tufted bottoms in the air. I noticed a few indistinct shapes of fish lurking in the murky depths. Reaching into my bag for the moldy loaf, I began feeding the ducks and fish. A frenzy of activity whirled wherever I threw the bread, and I smiled as two birds squabbled over a larger piece. I was just about to throw another piece when a large shadow appeared beneath the birds, a shape growing so suddenly in size that I was forced to step back in surprise. Something flew towards me, and I instinctively closed my eyes. I could have sworn I felt water graze my cheek, but when I opened my eyes there was nothing but the peaceful scene of ducks and fish. Shaken, I quickly threw the rest of the loaf into the pond then took off. Feeling disorientated I hurried to my lecture, making it with a little time to spare. I had few friends and none of them had chosen this particular course, so I found my customary corner near the back and sat down to prepare. My mind began wandering again to the dreams and my encounter in the park. Overactive imagination, I thought to myself. Too rich a diet of video games and fantasy books by far. The history lecturer¡¯s loud voice, as it had done so many times in the past, brought me back to my current reality. I tried to focus on his words, but my mind began to wander again. An errant thought drew me to picture fields of the most brilliant emerald grass, a viridian sea swaying softly in the wind... Grass...? I could hear the whispering susurration of each individual blade dancing to the cool spring breeze. The taste of the crisp clean air pervaded my imagination, a striking contrast to the acrid aftertaste of the city. I saw a small hill with what looked like a large acacia tree overlooking it, a vision that would make for the most perfect of landscape pictures. I yearned to go there, and one step later I was...back in the hall as the lecturer continued listing the reasons for the fall of an empire. Occasionally casting a glance at a girl a few seats away on my right, I listened with half an ear to the professor. Hair like burnt gold cascaded around her shoulders and framed a heart-shaped face with eyes of cornflower blue. A cute button nose, a little upturned, was perfectly positioned above blossom soft pink lips. I knew her name as I had heard her friends greet her once before, but I never had the courage to introduce myself. Sighing, I entered an almost zen-like autopilot for the rest of the lecture as my subconscious took in all the relevant data. After the lecture finished, I checked my timetable on my phone. The next class would be in the late afternoon, providing me a little time to carry out a few errands in town. Checking my calendar and smiling to myself, I was reminded that I had scheduled to play a game online with a friend later in the evening. It was so difficult recently to find time to do things together as we both lived in different time zones. But first I needed to go to the post office to pick up a package. Whistling an off-key tune, I made my way to my next destination to find that a long lunchtime queue had already formed. Patiently, I waited in line, part of the tune on endless repeat in my mind. Finally, my turn had arrived. The cashier was a bespectacled mousy woman of middle years, hair tied in a tight bun with small streaks of gray just beginning to appear. She pretended to carefully check over my details before handing me a small brown package and an invoice for import tax. I grudgingly counted out the necessary money. As an aside, I asked her the cost of sending a package back to its country of origin. With a sigh, clearly already irritated by my presence, she replied, ¡°Well, you will have to choose between...¡± Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°Choose!¡± a voice thundered somewhere behind me. Eyes wild, I turned searching for the source of the voice. ¡°...will be more expensive but faster...¡± I half-heard the post clerk continue. ¡°Choose!¡± the voice thundered even louder, and this time there was a burning sensation in my heart and lungs. It felt as if chains were constricting them, squeezing ever tighter. I leaned against the counter for support as I tried to desperately breathe. ¡°I did take my medicine this morning, didn¡¯t I...?¡± I panicked before remembering my rush to leave early. Screaming a silent ¡°No,¡± my eyes glazed over, and I began to fall to my knees. Some of the people in the queue behind me rushed to help. The last thing I remember was the clerks'' change of expression from annoyance, to worry, then to perturbing awe. As the pain became too great, I felt something important give way inside. This is what death is, I thought to myself, as I felt a sensation of falling. I was traveling through a place filled with a bright incandescent light before I was wrenched into a brand-new reality. Suddenly next to me was...the girl from the lecture hall? Cornflower eyes once so warm and soft now seemed cold, and the lines of her mouth and lips had become hard and unyielding. A wave of disorientation passed over and I could hear a ringing in my head before her features fully shifted. In front of me now was the perfect ideal of classical female beauty, like the ancient Greek statues of yore. It felt so strange, yet somehow absolutely right. As if this was fated, like the final piece of a puzzle finally slotting into place. A perfectly veiled symmetry of face and form was before me. Piercing cobalt eyes, both familiar yet utterly alien, were framed by delicate, now oval, features. Her loose gown, similar to a Roman stola, billowed slightly as if floating in the water around a more luscious figure. Beneath a lovely, high nose, sensuous lips were stained crimson hinted at the beginning of a playful smile. With a rising sense of panic in my throat, I began to question what this experience truly was. The encounter was so distant from anything I could have ever imagined in any vapid daydream. ¡°You have been chosen,¡± the figure intoned with the lightness of an angel yet carrying an ominous echo of ages long passed. Through some intangible power, I sank to my knees, overwhelmed by a mixture of absolute reverence and adoration. I could not bring myself to raise my head. I am not a religious man, but a small corner of my heart communicated to me that I was in the presence of absolute divinity. ¡°I am justice, and you shall be my herald. All that you do will be in my name. You will be the avatar of my will,¡± the goddess proclaimed, for there could be no doubt that she was indeed a goddess. My heart missed a beat with every exclamation, and I could do nothing but yield under that divine gaze. Still, where bravery failed, panic and fear rallied. ¡°Why?¡± I croaked under the weight of the holy countenance. ¡°You have been judged and have not been found wanting. A life lived without sin and in service to your fellow man. A soul that is compatible with our needs. Forged anew to be a tool of the righteous. This will be our covenant,¡± she stated in a voice filled with total control. I felt a growing sense of excitement and forced adulation invading my inner being. But still, the fear remained in the leftover hollow places of my soul and cried against the wrongness with every beat of my heart. A soft warmth spread throughout, every fiber of my being was filled with purpose, and every word struck my soul with the force of a hammer. A look of puzzlement crossed her face for a fraction of a fraction of a second, as if she was analyzing all that stood before her. A hesitant smile tinged with sorrow grew across her face and I felt my soul rise with joy as tears tracked their way across my cheeks. I was not worthy of such regard. Lifting my face she spoke unto me, ¡°But, let it not be said that there is no justice without mercy. Though it will cost me greatly, you will be given a day to face the trials to come. Prepare yourself, my champion. I am Avaria.¡± The last utterance was said with such lament that I was filled with nothing but deep shame, a feeling that a being such as myself was unworthy of such benevolence. Slowly, I felt the warmth starting to fade from my soul as my dream began to fade back to reality. The peace was followed by a sudden and jarring sensation of falling... The idyllic dream and sense of complete fulfillment were then utterly shattered as tendrils of shadow ripped through what felt like infinite universes. Stabbing into my very soul, they drew me into an abyssal void. I flailed my limbs in a desperate attempt to escape, but the tendrils only tightened their grip and pulled me ever closer to the source of their origin, a gigantic gaping maw that yawned before me. I screamed and thrashed, and my desperate cries echoed across the void. Yet even as my panic threatened to consume me, a glimmer of understanding flickered to life within my mind. Avaria had chosen me as her own. Surely, she would not abandon me now, in my darkest hour. With this fragile hope clutched tight within my heart, I fought against the tendrils with renewed strength. But it was all for naught. With a sudden force, I was pulled into the maw. My being was stretched and compressed before finally being spat again into the void. The darkness was so absolute that it was more than just the absence of light. As primal fear finally overcame me, and I sensed an ominous consuming presence. I could feel it breathing behind my neck, yet at the same time all around me; a paradox of being. The embers of my recent divine revelation still flickered within me, and somewhere I found it within me to utter a word, ¡°Who...?¡± A voice rumbled with laughter which betrayed an infinite slowness of eons and had the volume of a meteor impact. ¡°What are you...Are you a god?¡± I squeaked as fear once again ruled my soul. Laughter sounded again, a dry rumbling sound that evoked images of barren deserts and the death throes of dying stars. ¡°I am no mere God,¡± it intoned, followed by a long pause that could hold the time of the rise and fall of empires. ¡°I am a higher Truth. The final Truth of all things.¡± It spoke, and I felt my very sense of self shredded, rewritten, and analyzed again and again. ¡°That Avaria is a mere mortal and flawed concept. She has Chosen and Claimed you for her own, but in her mercy broke the Rules. She thought to bend the Concord. To gift you the time to ready yourself for the great trials. To give you an advantage. To give that world hope. What a foolish child, to think that we would not notice. No respite can be given in the rules of the great game. I claim you now, child of Earth,¡± the voice exclaimed with all the dread of a dying world. Sibilant whispers skittered across my mind intruding upon my consciousness, shaping it so that I might better understand the being and prevent my mind from shattering against the cliffs of insanity I now stood upon. The whispers, echoes of the great being, spoke directly in my mind with voices like sharpened glass. Every word was a lesson in pain. ¡°We will gift you nothing but our curse. We care nothing for your success or failure. We will simply try again as this moment will fold into itself once more. Know utterly the futility of your existence. However, we will curse you with that which so often shapes mortal existence. I give you pain, as a small reminder that here you exist for a blinking of an eye to the eternity of the cosmos. Take this and know a fleeting joy, mortal. The pain I give to you, you will give to others, as is the nature of your being. The pain will guide your growth in your new world, guide your understanding. An endless spiral of lost energy to chaos. As it once was, so shall it all be again,¡± intoned the being. Then an agony filled me across a moment of eternity and flayed the fibers of my soul. All thoughts of the goddess burned away, and the moment stretched across infinity. And all I could do was hear the hollow laughter of a thousand uncaring gods. Book 1: A Choice I sojourn now in the blessed lands of the Rawesan for a time, the birthplace of Her church. Many are the prophets who venture into the deep deserts in search of guidance, but few ever return with the divine scripture. Those who do are often blessed with the gift-spark and write on parchment, paper, or vellum the instruction of the divine that others may know greater communion with Her. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. As suddenly as my soul torture began, it stopped. I sensed a shift, and I was no longer there, but elsewhere. With a sudden sense of vertigo, I fell face forward into what felt like earth and grass. Curled in a fetal position, I whimpered as the aftershock of pain played across my mortal body. Shadowy purple tendrils continued to whip across my consciousness, yet fainter now, slowly replaced by a plethora of error messages. I kept on begging for the agony and torment to end before exhaustion finally claimed me. I fell into a nightmare-fueled sleep filled with visions of the deaths of everyone I had ever loved or known. ***** I awoke naked and gibbering nonsense to an uncaring universe. Dull sunlight mercilessly pounded my senses as I tried unsuccessfully to raise myself on fever-drunk feet. Failing pitifully, I instead retreated to curl on a soft bed of grass. Rocking back and forth to a rhythm known only to the mad, I chanted ¡°Not real¡­ not real,¡± to myself. Over and over, a litany to a world that did not care. Looking across the sea of green I saw that it was a gray and dark day with clouds pregnant with rain on the distant horizon. At the edges of my vision, the hint of shadowy things scuttled back into the recesses of my mind. Across from me in the semi-distance, I saw a picture from what felt like a lifetime long past, the imposing tree on the hill. I was vulnerable, naked, and alone in a place known only to my madness. Memories from another place smashed into my consciousness and I heard a high trilling of sound flooding my senses. Willing the world to go away, I wrapped my head in my hands and closed my eyes. As inexorable as time itself, a message played across my inner eyes in a bold script. CHOOSE YOUR CALLING. Flustered I could not help but be drawn to the message, and as my awareness brushed against understanding, new text was shown to me. INITIATE and below another choice STUDENT. Just as I was musing on the incongruity of ¡®Student,¡¯ the text flashed static across my vision and there was a ringing in my ears. The ¡®Student¡¯ option had changed to display ¡®Acolyte.¡¯ Could I get any crazier? I felt in my bones that I had to choose quickly or there would be dire consequences. I knew in my gut that the ¡®Acolyte¡¯ must be some sort of hidden class. Those were usually harder to play but tended to have some real endgame advantages if you could master their skills. With nothing else to go on, no wikis, guides, or even friends to explain the choices in front of me, I mentally chose Acolyte. I heard a rumble from within as text blazed and imprinted across my mind. A rushing sense of power filled me, a feeling of completeness.
STATUS
Calling: $%^& Level 1 Acolyte (v@ri% Strength: 8 Dexterity: 8 Constitution: 8 Intelligence: 8 Wisdom: 8 Charisma: 8 Luck: 8
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
-
GIFTS
-
Experience to next level: 0/100 The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
It looked like the user interface, or UI, of one of the many games that I would often play. What was this? Pain Nullification!? Shock and indignation rose to the fore of my mind with this notification of a skill. Before I could fully comprehend this, new numerical markers blossomed in the lower-left corner of my vision.
Health: 5/6 Stamina: 16/16 Mana: 2/6
Feeling vulnerable with my nakedness, I pinched myself to make sure this was no dream, then pinched again harder to draw a little blood. "This must be a game. This cannot be real..." I felt my mind teetering once again on the brink of insanity, sibilant whispers reassuring me that it was real, followed by a far-off scream of a distant divinity. At the edges of my vision, I could sense the impression of dark shadowy tendrils, ever moving and just out of sight. The pain proved this was genuine, I must be here. Was this really the place of my dreams? An escape from the meaningless doldrums of a pedestrian life? The idea both disturbed and thrilled me. Looking at my hand, I curled my fingers into a fist before straightening them again. What power awaits me in such a world? Love? Immortality...? As I contemplated the bewildering scale of my circumstance, the next message appeared.
New Quest: First Steps
I was once again struck by the importance of the message, causing a profound impact on my being. With earnest effort, I rose to my feet and trudged slowly towards the tree on the hill. Each step was heavy and painful, as I made my way barefoot to the place where the revelation had occurred. After what felt like an eternity, I finally arrived and took a deep breath, gazing upon the scene before me. A majestic tree that looked like some sort of acacia but with bladed green leaves. Its branches rose from its great trunk like an accusation against the heavens. The air around it was saturated with a strong pine scent mixed with the sweet fragrance of lemon blossoms. Beneath its generous boughs, a crude stone altar stood. At its foot, fallen from its place, lay a stone carving of a female figure, a crude facsimile of the goddess. ¡°Avaria...¡± I croaked, somewhere between desperation and joy. There was no answer. Yet, I thought I heard again the screaming of a distant female voice. Shaking my head I wondered what madness on top of madness was possessing me. There, an echo. A tinkling echo of joyful laughter. ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked in a quiet hopeful voice to no one. ¡°I am Power Strike.¡± Impressions of a female voice tickled my mind, a resonance close to my ear that left me shivering in excitement. Renderings of war and conflict, the press of the melee, an image of a peasant bringing down a cruel warlord, and an unsung hero alone atop the battlements unleashing savage blows against unspeakable horrors. All played across my inner vision. A solemn note entered my mindscape. A soft choir of angels. A cry of anguish and salvation. The music built up to a crescendo until there was a new voice. ¡°I am Heal,¡± spoke a gentle authoritative voice, with all the kindness of a mother. New images were brought to my mind. A man bleeding by the road only to be saved by a blue light, a dying man coughing blood only to rise again. A wish to rectify a little of the pain and hurt of the world. I felt the budding feeling of real, earnest hope. Like a game I was being given my initial class skills, I enthused to myself, feeling my heart grow a little lighter. With these powers, I could grow to be a mighty paladin, slaying all who stood before me, advancing in strength, and making the world a better place. Then something very wrong invaded the last remnants of tranquility. A sense of uncaring, of unbridled change and hunger that knew no bounds. Shadowy tendrils began to play against the edges of my mind once again, demanding attention as they pressed firmly against my consciousness. ¡°I am Rust...¡± a voice uttered in a sibilant gravelly tone behind me. I turned around finding nothing, met only with dark hollow laughter. Images assaulted my senses, violating my sense of self. A sword forlorn, rusting as a grave marker to a forgotten soldier. Its serrated blade was marked with red rust the color of dried blood. So corroded that it had failed to cut through the hide of a majestic beast. Then a pause, pregnant with all the future of a dead promise. Shaken but undaunted, I optimistically chose not to look a gift horse in the mouth. This was just another skill that had appeared before me, albeit a little darker and edgier. Applying my gamer logic, I thought to myself that it was probably a debuff that reduced the damage of enemy weapons. ¡°But first...you must look...must look!¡± thundered the voice, now sounding a thousand strong. The shadowy tendrils forced my attention to the places at the edges of my vision.
Curse of En^r*
Gilt in black was an error message, the name of my curse. ¡°What is my name?¡± demanded the voices, insistent and wheedling. I coughed blood as I was struck by a blow as sharp as any saber. "What is my name?" the legion cried out again in savage demand. They had grown increasingly unrelenting, with a wrath that spoke of the last death throes of a supernova and echoed with the silence of the grave. Visions of decaying flesh and the slow decline of alien civilizations flooded my consciousness. ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± I wailed to the uncaring voices, my voice harsh as I screamed with all my might. "What is my name? What is my name? What is my name?" The numberless horde demanded. The question rang out again and again, and each utterance was a hammer blow to my psyche. New visions flooded my mind of the cosmos, explosions of light, the scattering of stars, and the cruel end of all things. I saw the heat death of the universe. In the bottom left of my vision, I saw that my Health was plummeting. A flash of inspiration struck me then, fueled by utter desperation. ¡°...An endless spiral of lost energy to chaos,¡± a fragment of a half-remembered communion with the ultimate end of all things. ¡°Entropy...you are Entropy!¡± I cried in a last gasp bid to live. Impressions of a smile that was a tear in reality, a galaxy-wide, as the true name of my curse was revealed.
Curse of Entropy -20% all starting attributes.
A myriad of new system messages then flashed across my vision with the cessation of the pain. Finally, I saw a simple line of text at the end that made me smile in satisfaction as darkness once again claimed one of its own.
Quest Complete
Book 1: Struggle The diviners and the truth seers of the elves called for war against a small country far to the west, across the Untouched Sea, ruled by a mage-king they divined would bring about the end-times. The High King of the elves, acknowledging the words of the prophecy, sent his envoys to the realms of man and throughout the civilized lands. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. I awoke naked, sodden, and shivering, my teeth rattling in my skull as I fought a futile battle against the cold. The joy I had felt upon being transported to a new world had evaporated like morning dew under the harsh sun, replaced by the bitter memories of the night before. Even my dreams had turned into a new form of subtle torture. The dream of the old world and the events that had led me to this cursed place was an unwelcome reminder of all that I had lost. For a moment, I indulged in self-pity, lamenting how quickly I had come to call it the old world. Thankfully, the last remnants of the dream were dissipating, driven away by a score of minor aches and discomforts that roused me to full wakefulness. This world was full of pain and suffering greater than anything I had known before. My discomfort demanded that I look with my inner gaze at the notifications:
100 Experience gained. New Skill: Power Strike (lvl.1) New Spells: Heal (lvl.1), Rust (lvl.1) Level 2 attained - 3 unassigned attributes have been distributed automatically.
STATUS
Calling: $%^& Level 2 Acolyte of Avaria Strength: 8 Dexterity: 8 Constitution: 9 Intelligence: 8 Wisdom: 8 Charisma: 8 Luck: 10
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1) Power Strike (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.1) Rust (lvl.1) Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.
Experience to next level: 100/220
I scrambled closer to the tree, sitting against its hard trunk. Gathering myself, I closed my eyes and tried to draw a deep, even breath. Gazing to the bottom left corner of my vision where my Health, Stamina, and Mana were represented, I scanned my new Status.
Health: 5/13 Stamina: 14/16 Mana: 4/6
My thoughts scattered as I realized my Health was just over a third, or maybe just under half when I thought about it. This must be responsible for the stabbing pain that throbbed all over my body. It was incomparable, of course, to the banquet of agony that I had gorged on previously. I noticed the irony that two of my randomly assigned points were allocated to Luck. This was my new reality, it seemed. I was stuck in a cursed game that felt like a thousand other games I had played throughout my life. I could not stifle a manic laugh that possessed my body. Great shakes filled me with pain as the madness tore through my being. My hysteria ceased abruptly when I realized that my health had dropped by one point. I was going to die here, ripped across time and space, to die of exposure under a tree in this unknown and alien world. I needed to think rationally before insanity overtook me again. I needed to regain my health. My eyes darted around, panic driving a manic scramble of my thoughts as I desperately sought something to save me from this predicament. "Heal!" I desperately shouted, willing something, anything, to save me. A pulling sensation shifted energy through my body, followed by a hint of soft warmth, then nothing. Echoes of absolute nothingness. My spell had failed. I cried tears of frustration at the futility of it all. Magic was tantalizingly out of reach. "What can I do?" I puzzled to myself as despair began to rise again. Unbidden memories of a long-forgotten mathematics lesson returned to me. My mind reviewed the calculations involved in factoring, polynomials, and double-decked equations. Bitterly I smiled, surprised at how much I could comprehend in my new mental state.
You have gained 1 Intelligence.
The message floated across my vision. Incredulously I looked at my Status, noticing that my available Mana had increased by one point to five. "What did this all mean?" I wondered to myself as another dull wave of pain hit me. Shivering, I rose on shaky legs, leaning against the tree to survey my surroundings. Under the tree lay the familiar sight of the dilapidated altar with the fallen statue of the goddess. Yet as he looked down at his feet, he noticed something unfamiliar; a bundle of rough-spun cloth. "The third person, I must be losing it..." I gathered the bundle to myself and opened it. Inside was a coarse robe of similar fabric to the cloth bundle. Hastily, I scrambled to put on the robes on my still-shivering body, ignoring the itchy sensation that reminded me of sackcloth. Finally tying the robe closed, I felt an immediate sense of security stir within me. A tear tracked down my face as the constant hum of vulnerability finally lessened, if only moderately. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to focus. The world I was in resembled a game, and I had played many games before. There were rules, and I needed to find and test every aspect out as soon as possible. I wanted to live, in defiance of all the suffering I had experienced. Hands still shaking, I whimpered in pain. Looking at my Status again, I confirmed that I had five available mana. Perhaps I had needed more mana to cast the spell, and the earlier dull pain was the result of a miscast? Some games I knew had a chance of spell failure, especially for novice magic users. Was that it? No, it couldn¡¯t be. Last time, I definitely felt something when I tried to cast Heal, and I refused to give up. ¡°Heal!" I shouted out to the world and willed myself to be made whole. Once again, I felt a power shift slowly and flow sluggishly through me. However, this time an unpleasant ripping sensation coursed through my insides. A pleasant sensation of healing warmth followed this. My mana had bottomed out to zero, but my health had increased by two points. I now had about half of my maximum Health. Everything felt like such a burden, my earlier enthusiasm was fleeing from me as I was assaulted by a painful attack on my mind. Stabbing needles beat against my brain as I wearily struggled back to the tree and sat. My breath began to slow. I fought against closing eyelids that weighed like a mountain, remembering a platitude from a previous life before they shut. ¡°The serenity to accept the things that you cannot change,¡± I whispered as a troubled sleep came over me. How apt¡­
You have gained 1 Wisdom.
Book 1: Growth [Part 1] When facing a manticore it is prudent to note that the beast has little to no blind spots. The scaly hide is dense and thick and will repel most non-magical weapons, though across the belly one¡¯s weapon may find purchase. One must also observe that despite being a beast it has some capability with the arcane, with an ability to cast elemental magics from the fire and ice domains. I would recommend a party of at least five highly skilled adventurers to best one of these fearsome creatures. - Monsters of the Mortal Realms by K. D. Fidditch. Groggily, I woke to the night. Above, stars shone in the sky like a beautiful sparkling tapestry, adorned with shining pearls. My eyes wandered to the heavens, and I saw a single oversized blue moon through the boughs of the tree. Squinting, I fancied I could perceive great craters on the moon''s surface. Its light bathed the world with a soft ethereal glow in shades of blue and silver, and the grass rustled in the chilly night breeze. Pulling my thoughts away from the stunning beauty that surrounded me, I slowly hugged my knees to my chest, trying to draw some warmth from the bitter cold. Shivering, I forced myself to peruse my notifications, verifying the changes to my character. I noticed that despite the increase in Wisdom, my maximum Mana had not changed. Nevertheless, I now stood at the full six points of Mana. Could it be that the Wisdom attribute affected Mana regeneration? More significantly, I breathed a sigh of relief as I observed that my Health had climbed to eight after my interminable rest and the agonizing healing spell. In my slumber, I had also attained a mysterious skill called ''Endure'' at level one.
STATUS
Calling: $%^& Level 2 Acolyte of Avaria Strength: 8 Dexterity: 8 Constitution: 9 Intelligence: 9 Wisdom: 9 Charisma: 8 Luck: 10
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1) Power Strike (lvl.1) Endure (lvl.1) You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.1) Rust (lvl.1)
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.
Experience to next level 100/220
Health: 8/13 Stamina: 14/16 Mana: 6/6
Feeling miserable, I hesitated to try to cast ¡®Heal¡¯ again, as I had not enjoyed the unpleasant ripping sensation I felt when I last cast the spell. As I pondered my situation, I analyzed my absurd circumstances. In some games, the system penalized players if they reached zero in a statistic. A lack of Stamina would hinder movement, depleted Mana would impede spellcasting, and zero Health would result in death. My conclusion was that I did not want to perish, and therefore I had to endure the pain once more to restore more of my Health. I tried to convince myself that the discomfort was akin to receiving a painful injection. Hopefully, the pain from the previous spellcast was a result of depleting my Mana completely. The only way to find out was to try again. Wincing at the expected agony to come, I gingerly uttered, "Heal," and focused all my will on the spell. Once again, I felt a shift of some sort of energy and an uncomfortable pulling sensation. Expecting daggers to assault my mind, I scrunched up my eyes and clenched my fists tightly. A soothing warmth flooded my body, but there was blessedly no suffering. Glancing down at my Status, I saw that my Health had increased by a further two points, bringing it to a much safer ten. I breathed deeply as tension left my body. My Mana had dropped to one, and I felt a little lightheaded, but there was no excruciating pain. Fighting against a wave of mental fatigue, I tightened my robe and struggled to my feet. If this was indeed a game world, then this coarse robe was likely my pathetic starting gear. Also, I made a mental note to investigate the mystery skill ¡®Endure¡¯ later. However, the growling in my stomach and the dryness in my throat reminded me of my immediate and more pressing needs. Searching around the stone shrine I was prompted with another Quest.
Restore the Shrine of Avaria? -Yes/No
"No," I thought to myself, quickly dismissing the intrusive notification from my inner vision. I owed nothing to the supposed "goddess" who had callously plucked me from my comfortable life and thrust me into this harsh and unforgiving world. My immediate needs took precedence; I had to find food, water, and some sort of protection. I shivered as I remembered my encounter with Avaria in another life. The cold realization that she had all but stripped me of my free will with feelings of forced adulation struck me to the core. That such a being had deigned to mold me as a mere instrument of their indomitable will was a terrifying thought. With the moon high in the sky, there was more than enough light to see. Searching around the altar, I found a broken spear. It was split and broken about halfway up the haft. The spear point seemed to be made of sharp stone bound to the shaft by sinew. I had one of humanity''s oldest and most trusted tools as a weapon. Two halves of one anyway. Buoyed by my discovery, I searched more of the area, revealing a rolled-up piece of parchment made of leather, tied with what looked like rawhide string. Untying the cord, I noticed that there were further knots on the string at varying points down its length. Under the moonlit sky, I wondered if there was enough light to see by as I slowly unraveled the cloth with great care. I was not to be disappointed. Book 1: Growth [Part 2] Written across a thin piece of animal hide, esoteric symbols glowed a dull red. Fractals and other mind-boggling geometric shapes writhed and changed across the surface. I traced my fingers across the shapes awed by what I saw, feeling an electric sensation playing across their tips. A smile rose to my face unbidden as a voice whispered and a new notification flashed across my inner vision.
Learn the spell Identify? -Yes/No
¡°Yes!¡± I shouted with joy, the inner child and gamer within me feeling a rush of accomplishment. Another presence made itself felt with images of moldy tomes in a forgotten library, an explorer holding a torch searching the dark ruins of a long-lost civilization, and a wise sage pouring over a veritable mountain of scrolls. ¡°I am ¡®Identify.¡¯ Call and the mysteries of this world you will know,¡± an echo of a scholarly voice whispered, the sound slowly fading into nothing in the recesses of my mind. The esoteric symbols stopped moving, their glow faded as the scroll began to crumble into dust.
You have learned Identify (lvl.1)
Finally, a success in this inscrutable new world. I dared not cast this new spell just yet, as memories of my previous experience still haunted me. To play it safe, I decided to wait until I had full Mana." Giving myself a mental pat on the back, I began humming the victory tune from my favorite game. Still, my night was far from over, for I needed to explore my surroundings more. Walking behind the altar, I saw a sight that brought relief to my weary soul. At the foot of the hill, I saw a small pond glistening silver. ¡®Water,¡¯ I thought as I licked dry and parched lips, before I noticed small shapes moving around the shore of the midnight pool. I clutched both halves of the broken spear to my chest as I cautiously moved down the hill at a half-crouch. My heart was beating in my chest as I stopped perhaps forty paces before the pond. There, I saw dark fish-like shapes about half a meter high and two meters long with high crested dorsal fins. On the far side, some were swimming lazily in the pond, while others basked in the moon¡¯s glow, making odd yet undeniably musical gurgling mating calls. The creatures reminded me of mudskippers that I once saw in a nature documentary. So alien was the scene in front of me that I took pause. As quietly and as silently as I could, I lowered myself to the ground. Crawling along the soft moist grass I edged ever closer to the pond. Thirst drove my actions, a maddening thing that demanded haste, but I mastered it as I slowly made for the water¡¯s edge. I quested forwards on hands and knees, my fingers sampling earth and grass before they found fine-grained sand and finally water. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Resisting the all-conquering thirst for a moment more, I peered at my reflection in the water, hazy in the moonlight. Wild frazzled short hair framed a gaunt clean-shaven face. It was hard to see, yet everything felt even more real than my old world. It was as if everything was set to a higher resolution. Gingerly I touched my face, and a small wave disturbed my crystalline reflection. Snapping out from my reverie, I cupped my hands and drank from the silvery water. Slurping quickly, uncaring of the world, sweet, blessed relief entered me as I slaked my thirst. I continued to drink heavily as another small wave lapped against the shore of the pond, this time one not of my own making. A few paces away from me two googly eyes on thick stalks rose up from the water. Bubbles formed where its mouth was just under the surface before a ball of water shot with great speed toward me. I flinched and ducked down to the ground, making myself as small as possible as the solid ball of liquid passed over me. A moment later I heard its splash as it landed somewhere behind me. Adrenaline flooded my system, and my fingers gripped my scavenged weapons. This close to the creature I felt an equal mixture of sudden surprise, wonder, and fear, which was soon overridden by another scathing hot emotion. Perhaps it was the constant agony that I had been suffering, or possibly the frustration against an uncaring universe, but at that moment I felt a rage I had never felt before. Hot anger boiled within me screaming for an outlet as I scrambled to my feet and launched myself at the oversized fish. My eyes rapidly scanned over the piscine form, the size of a large wolfdog, looking for places to attack. I loudly splashed into the waters, breaking the serene tranquility of the night as I struck, stabbing with the half-spear in my left and swinging the broken haft like a club with my right. As I engaged the strange creature, I noticed new bubbles had formed again just below the surface. A part of me registered the surprise drawn infinitesimally slowly on the fish¡¯s face as my twin blows hit it with a force filled with all my desperation. The fish creature made a gurgling scream as it reactively launched another ball at my midsection. At this range, the creature could not miss, and it felt like a cricket ball had impacted against my chest. The pain only spurred my frenzy to greater heights as I repeatedly stabbed and clobbered the creature with both halves of my scavenged spear. A dark purplish film stained the roiling waters, and I gave a last savage twist with the spearhead as the creature turned tail to flee. Panting heavily, I noticed more of the foul creatures entering the pond and swimming toward me with considerable speed. Drawing rapid panicked breaths, I ran with desperation giving speed to my flight from the water. My robe was a cold, sodden, and heavy thing that impeded my escape. I heard splashes on the ground to my left and right, before one of the water balls clipped me on the left shoulder, almost making me drop the half-spear. Doubling my pace as I struggled up the hill, I spared a glance at my Status with my inner eye. My Stamina was around half, and my Health stood at just under two-thirds. It would have to be enough, and a frantic final dash led me to hide behind the tree. Taking a deep breath, my heart was hammering in my chest as I peered down at the ugly fish creatures below. The monsters moved slowly on land, and for that, I gave a silent thanks. They seemed to have stopped near the bottom of the hill, a scant few meters from the shore. Panting, I continued to look at them, willing them to withdraw. After what seemed like an eternity, but what could have been mere minutes, they turned back as one towards the pond and slipped once into the silvery waters. I cried, breathing a long sigh of relief before new notifications flashed before me, bringing a sly grimace to my lips.
You have slain ??? 10 experience gained. You have gained 1 Dexterity. You have gained 1 Strength. You have learned Stealth (lvl.1)
It seemed that today I did get the one that got away. Book 1: Testing Theories Although humans were short-lived in comparison to the elder race, they were as numerous as the trees in the forest and were almost as ferocious as the barbaric orcs of the Long Hills. The League and the Old Empire ceased their endemic wars, united with the promise of gifts of powerful elven artifacts and mithril bullion. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. Looking at the night sky I saw a veritable ocean of shimmering stars, accompanied by a large solitary moon that served as a fine contrast to their brilliance. For all its beauty, however, something was wrong. Though no student of astronomy, I could not identify a single familiar constellation or guiding star. This unexpected feeling of displacement and isolation compounded my already-existing misery, leaving me with a deep sense of homesickness and loneliness. The plan was to stay awake for the rest of the night to keep watch on the pond below. However, this intent shattered when faced with the cruel reality of my tired body. Exhausted, my eyes felt like lead as the exertions of the past hours left me cold and shivering. Slowly and inexorably, like the turning of seasons, I closed my eyes and faded off into a troubled sleep. I gradually awoke as the morning sunlight filtered through the branches of the tree and danced across my eyes. Rushing to panicked wakefulness, I looked around with wild eyes searching for threats. However, all that lay before me was a sea of grass stretching as far as the eye could see beneath a cloudless sky. Sometime in the night, my robe had dried out and I was at least no longer shivering. The warm sun shone down on me as I attempted to gather myself toward some semblance of calm. This was no idyllic fantasy land where the hero would be guided by the hand to become strong enough to face his destiny. No, this was a brutal world that taught in pain and suffering. Those that could not pass muster would die. Checking my notifications, it seemed that I had gained another point of Constitution in the night. I hypothesized I had gained this single point due to my current harsh conditions and that this was the reason both my maximum Health and my Stamina had increased. From this, it would be logical to assume that I could increase my Health by both increasing in basic level and improving my Constitution attribute. Muttering to myself, I swore to increase my Constitution as often as I could. I simply did not want to feel the awful numbing pain of being at low Health anymore. Upon checking the rest of my ¡®stats,¡¯ I noticed that I had acquired a new skill, ''Rest,'' which was at level one. It seemed that I could gain skills from even the most inconsequential things. I observed that my Health was only slightly below the maximum, and my Mana and Stamina were both at full. I craved more knowledge about the world I had found myself in. I needed more data. It was time to experiment.
STATUS
Calling: $%^& Level 2 Acolyte of Avaria Strength: 9 Dexterity: 9 Constitution: 10 Intelligence: 9 Wisdom: 9 Charisma: 8 Luck: 10
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1) Power Strike (lvl.1) Endure (lvl.1) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.1) Rust (lvl.1) Identify (lvl.1) The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.
Experience to next level 110/220
Health: 13/14 Stamina: 19/19 Mana: 6/6
I analyzed my current status. If this was a game, apart from the horrible start, I was in a satisfactory position. I had likely completed one of the early stages of a grueling ¡®tutorial.¡¯ My cautious nature willed me to cast Heal to top off my Health, but the curious gamer inside of me wanted to experiment with my new spell Identify. With a slight spring to my step, I made my way around the tree to look down at where the mudskippers were. Finding a medium-sized specimen on the far side of the pond, I uttered, ¡°Identify,¡± and willed the monster¡¯s secrets to be known to me. I felt the now-familiar shifting and pulling sensation and my Mana was channeled into the spell as it coursed through my body. But this time instead of releasing within me, it was abruptly funneled outwards toward my chosen creature.
Bibsis (lvl.1)
Health 8/8
¡°Bibsis,¡± I muttered to myself as I fought the frustration of being unable to see all of its relevant stats, such as Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution. Drawing a deep breath, I tried to calm myself. It was probably physically weaker than I was, but I had no idea if it had spells or any other special abilities apart from the water balls. However, at least I now knew the name, Health, and relative level of the creatures I faced. This further reinforced my working hypothesis that this area was some sort of ¡®tutorial¡¯ zone. My Mana had dropped by a single point, and I decided to cast Identify four more times for confirmation. However, with each use of the spell, my Mana decreased by one, and no additional information was revealed to me. As I continued to cast the spell repeatedly, I could feel a mounting pressure building up in my head. On the fourth casting, I was overcome by a sense of dizziness similar to the time I had used Heal for the second time. Thankfully, there was no accompanying sharp, stabbing pain or overwhelming exhaustion like when my Mana had been depleted to zero. Upon careful examination, I concluded that all the creatures I had targeted with Identify were only level one. I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that if I had been in a high-level area, my prospects would have been exceedingly grim. Taking a small break from my experiments, I left the weapons I had scavenged by the small shrine and made my way down the hill to relieve myself on the other side of the pond. Upon returning to the tree and altar, I resolved to try out the ''Power Strike'' skill next. Upon arrival, I took a few deep breaths to prepare myself. I picked up the half-spear in a loose grip and practiced jabbing at the air in front of me. With all the strength I could muster, I shouted, ¡°Power Strike!¡± while thrusting forward. But to my dismay, nothing happened. Undeterred, I continued to attack the air while shouting the skill''s name repeatedly. After several fruitless minutes of exertion, my stamina bar had depleted to about half. In a fit of frustration, I hurled the half-spear to the ground and landed a punch at the nearby tree, screaming ¡°Power Strike!!¡± at the top of my lungs. My left fist shot out at an alarming speed, pulling my body along with it. The impact caused chips of bark to scatter, and I felt something in my poorly angled wrist snap. The excruciating pain was too much to bear as I crumpled into a fetal position on the ground, clutching my injured wrist to my chest with my good hand. Blood trickled down my knuckles, a stark contrast to the color of my skin. It was a vivid reminder that in this world, I could bleed just as I did in the other. After what felt like an eternity, I summoned the strength to stand up and leaned against the tree for support. I drew shallow breaths through gritted teeth as I half-screamed in agony. Closing my eyes, I recited the births and deaths of long-dead leaders, battles that changed my homeland, and the rise and fall of ages, rebellions, and revolutions. It was a mnemonic tool to help me distract myself from the pain. While the world I found myself in was game-like in nature, there were some things that were unquestionably not. Unlike controlling a character with a mouse and keyboard, I was well and truly immersed in the ¡®game¡¯ and felt pain with every foolish mistake I made. Despite this reality presenting itself like a game, the consequences of my actions were very real.
You have gained 1 Intelligence.
I let out a wry laugh between waves of pain. Closing my eyes and whimpering forlornly, I decided to rest and focus on restoring my Mana. For the rest of the morning and a significant part of the afternoon, I cast Heal whenever possible, determined to bring myself back to full Health. I theorized that my maximum Mana had increased by one point, likely due to the recent boost in my Intelligence. When my Health reached around eleven or twelve, my wrist snapped back into place with a painful crunch, which was then soothed by the remaining aura of my healing spell. Finally, sometime in the late afternoon, I was back to full Health. An injury that would have taken at least a month and a half to heal in my previous life was fully rectified here in about half a day, thanks to my magical abilities. "Magic...I wield magic..." I found it preposterous, and yet a part of me could not deny the reality of my situation. The pain, if anything, reminded me that this was all too horribly real. Still, I could not help but marvel at the miracles I had performed. "Magic..." I whispered in a hushed, reverent tone. In a previous life, I had read that "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." Could nanobots or some other super technology be responsible for the ¡®Magic¡¯ and this game-like world? Were my struggles merely entertainment for some weird interstellar audience? But these questions only served to perturb me, and I quickly brushed them from my mind. Survival was my only imminent concern and I refused to die. The first pangs of hunger hit me as the sun dipped ever lower in the sky. I waited for my Mana to reach full again before picking up the two halves of the broken primitive spear. Absently I considered casting Identify on my weapons but thought better of it as it was painfully obvious what I held in my hands. My ominous Rust spell was also perhaps worth experimenting with at a later time; I could not see anything in my local environs that would precipitate its use. I needed all my resources to do what I planned to do next. I needed to grow and growing in this world meant killing. Book 1: Hunt & Harvest [Part 1] The berry of the Galebush is sweet and nutritious, attracting fauna and adventurers alike. However, unless thoroughly cooked, the seed will sprout within a few hours spontaneously, causing an almost certain and gruesome death. This is likely a mechanism to provide the new seedling with fertilizer for the next part of its life cycle. If the being somehow survives the ¡®sprouting,¡¯ they will slowly turn into a volatile and strange chimera of plant and animal. One such creature was the infamous Sun Bear of the Duskdown Forest, which terrorized the local territories for many years before a group of Knight Penitents brought it down. - Monsters of the Mortal Realms by K. D. Fidditch. My twin weapons in hand, I crept down the hill towards the pond with a furtiveness I never knew I possessed. Walking along the edges of my feet, heel to toe, I mused that the newly acquired Stealth skill was already clearly bearing fruit. Crouching slightly forward with my weight evenly spread, I instinctively knew how to bend my knees just enough to absorb as much sound as possible. Edging ever closer, I slinked along the shore of the pond on my belly. Taking cover behind some shallow rushes on the shore, I decided to observe the scene before me. Across the opposite shore, the amphibious Bibsis basked under the late afternoon sky, occasionally making musical gurgling noises. The school of monsters consisted of larger creatures the size of a monstrously big breed of dog, along with smaller juvenile specimens. I waited, forcing each drawn breath to be slow and even, while I formulated a plan. Some of the juveniles were currently playing in the shallows near the shore. I needed to surprise one of them, kill it, and then retreat back to the relative safety of the shrine. Waiting patiently in position, I trusted my Stealth skill to hide me from the monsters. After an indeterminable length of time, I grew impatient and picked up a scattering of fine sand and threw it a short distance from my place of hiding at the surface of the water. Two adult Bibsis broke away from the main school, swimming lazily to investigate where I had thrown the sand. They gurgle-chirped to each other before diving below the surface and swimming to look for the source of the disturbance. After a minute or two, one of the creatures swam back to the main school, babbling to the others. The remaining monster, about the size of a large hound, beached itself on the shore, rolling onto its side and closing its googly eyes in contented relaxation. "Perfect," I thought to myself, "time to use one of my combat skills." I rushed out of my position to attack the monster. Instead of shouting out Power Strike, I invoked it using my mental voice and targeted the lone basking Bibsis. With my left hand holding the half-spear, I thrust it through the creature''s flapping gills. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. There was a moment of resistance, and my Stamina drained by ten points. Then a driving sensation, different from a spell reaction, traveled through my body and along my arm and guided my weapon to its fated target. The stone spearhead passed cleanly through the gills and into the Bibsis'' brain matter, bypassing the cartilage of its skull with a squelching noise. I followed up by striking the creature''s stilling body along its length with the other half of the spear in my right hand, using it like a wooden club. To my savage satisfaction, the forceful blows scattered wet, muddy brown scales across the shore. Quickly, I pulled the half-spear from the Bibsis'' cranium and scanned my surroundings for any incoming monsters, but none approached. Taking a deep breath, I was gratified to receive a notification of the creature''s death, which granted me another ten experience points. I assumed that my initial attack had been a critical hit, given the powerful impact. A dark liquid rapidly congealed on the shore underneath the fish monster¡¯s head, with blood thick like tar staining the sand. I quickly heaved and tried to drag the creature away from the edge of the pond, but soon realized the impossibility of such a task, as the monster was too heavy to move. The hunger was upon me, and I needed to eat as soon as possible. With the spear''s blade edge serving as a makeshift butchery tool, I began cutting near the tail end of the fish. Piercing first and then sawing across, I deftly avoided bone and cartilage to carve out large chunks of meat from the corpse. With a chunk in each hand and the spear halves tucked under my armpits, I hastily made my way up the hill to the relative safety of the altar. Arriving, I dropped my weapons and ravenously tore into the chunks of flesh like a wild animal. At first, I barely registered the taste due to my intense hunger, and the raw flesh was tough to chew. As I ate the second piece of monster flesh, my stomach finally began to settle a little. It was then that I noticed the slightly slimy texture, but the meat had a rich flavor. It reminded me of what it might be like to eat a raw frog, and the thought almost made me throw up in disgust. Nonetheless, I continued to devour the rest of my barbaric meal. Finishing off the last piece, blood congealing down the front of my robe, I crept down again to the rest of the carcass with more practiced ease. Crouching over the remains of the creature I began to clumsily butcher a few more chunks, then ran back up the hill to place the fresh meat upon the altar. On my third run, I stopped to drink some of the cool water from the pond and washed as best as I could the slimy blood from my hands. Hoping to farm experience and gain new skills, I repeatedly employed my ambush tactic throughout the night. I lost count of the times I had clumsily attracted too many of the creatures and was forced to rush back up to the altar, dodging and weaving in a crazy zigzag pattern. Despite my efforts, I was occasionally hit by an errant solid water ball, and I had to pause to heal myself to restore the damage of bruised flesh and broken bones. Occasionally, after landing a solid hit, I would cast Identify to gauge the amount of damage I was dealing. It seemed that my half-spear was doing between four to six damage, while my impromptu club was rather weak, dealing only one to two damage. Perhaps I was taking penalties for dual-wielding or not being proficient with my equipped weapons? Still pondering the mechanics of my new world, I climbed back up to the hill and succumbed to sleep just as the rosy-fingered dawn broke through the sky. Book 1: Hunt & Harvest [Part 2] Upon waking up, I rubbed my weary eyes and hastily devoured a few bites of Bibsis flesh. Cautiously, I made my way down to the pond to quench my thirst. After checking that my Health and Stamina were fully restored, I repeated the tactics of the previous day. In the warm early afternoon, I was hit by two water balls in quick succession. Strangely, the first one didn''t hurt at all, while the second one hit me with excruciating pain. A pattern began to emerge in my mind as I tried to decipher some of the game''s rules. After resting and healing myself to full Health, I deliberately endured two more water ball attacks without trying to dodge. It would almost be my downfall. The first shot hit me in the stomach, rapidly knocking out more than half of my Health. Then the next struck, rattling my brain inside my skull. Concussed and disoriented, I somehow made it back up to the altar. Quickly, I cast another Heal spell, hoping to clear my head and prevent potential brain injury. My dangerous experiment did, however, prove one thing; I would feel no pain with the first hit IF I was at maximum Health. Finally, I had an explanation for my mysterious skill, ''Pain Nullification.'' I had to remind myself that this was not some form of invulnerability, as I could still take damage from attacks. Nonetheless, anything that reduced the pain from this horrible world was sorely welcome. Leaning against the comforting security of the tree, I decided to take stock of the situation and review my current gains.
STATUS
Calling: $%^& Level 2 Acolyte of Avaria Strength: 9 Dexterity: 10 Constitution: 12 Intelligence: 10 Wisdom: 9 Charisma: 8 Luck: 11
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1) Power Strike (lvl.1) Endure (lvl.1) Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.1) Backstab (lvl.1) Dodge (lvl.1) Polearms (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.1) Rust (lvl.1) Identify (lvl.1)
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.
Experience to next level 170/220
Health: 16/16 Stamina: 21/21 Mana: 7/7
A day and a half of a consistent loop of receiving damage and healing myself had increased my Constitution by another two points, raising both my maximum Stamina and Health. I also discovered that my Dexterity had climbed to ten somewhere along the line. Additionally, I noticed that the average damage I inflicted with my half-spear had increased by one point after using Identify following a solid hit on one of the monsters. Unfortunately, I had not gained any Wisdom or Intelligence, likely due to my exclusive use of physical attacks instead of magic. Interestingly, I had also acquired three new skills. Two of the more enigmatic ones, ''Dodge'' and ''Backstab,'' were at level one, similar to all my beginner skills. I assumed that I had obtained the Dodge skill by avoiding the countless water balls that had been spat at me. Backstab could have resulted from my success in launching surprise attacks against the Bibsis. I speculated that this skill was responsible for the occasional spikes of one or two damage points I inflicted on the oversized fish when I managed to catch them off guard. It was logical to assume that my third new skill, ''Polearms,'' was acquired from my extensive and exclusive use of the scavenged spear. Thank goodness I had been an avid gamer in the old world. Without that skill set, I would have had little frame of reference for this bizarre experience. Shaking my head in disbelief, I noticed that I had also inexplicably gained an extra point of Luck. I had only a vague idea of how that attribute would affect my current predicament. Circumstances were certainly not perfect, not by a long haul, but they were definitely improving. I felt a glimmer of consolation that I was beginning to understand the world I was in. It was satisfying to work out some of the rules that I had to play by. There was no internet or wikis here with easy answers, yet despite all of this, I was enthusiastic about tomorrow. In this world, self-improvement was a more tangible notion compared to my old life. Experiences and skills were broken down into numbers, and I was given solid feedback showing when I had gained abilities. Huddling against the tree, I decided to rest despite being at full Health, Stamina, and Mana, as I was at the limit of my mental endurance. Tomorrow was another day, and I had five more monsters to slay to attain level three. Book 1: Progress The Under-Kingdoms were slower to answer the call, but dwarven greed eventually won over ancient enmity and they flocked to the banner under elven kind. The dragons of the mountains and the sky, understanding the threat the mage-king possessed grudgingly promised aid, though in their pride they would suffer none to command them. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. I awoke to the pleasant aroma of pine and lemon blossoms as I slowly opened my eyes, feeling both fearful and optimistic about what was in store for me. All around me were featureless, flat plains of endless green that met the azure horizon somewhere in the far distance. This would become a problem when I eventually decided to leave my place of relative comfort. However, these were concerns for another day. For now, I had five fish to fry. The Bibsis were now one level lower than me, making them relatively easy prey. My strategy was a simple one. Distract some of them, take down one of them, and retreat as quickly as possible back up the hill. It was a tactic I had used countless times in my gaming days to clear areas teeming with powerful enemies. The problem was that I had no baseline to work with to gauge my relative strength in this brave new world. I needed to gain a better understanding of the rules governing this world. It was imperative to uncover how to improve my skills, as this directly impacted my survival in both the immediate and long term. Would focused practice and repetition enable me to advance them? The fact that the Bibsis I had identified were all at level one indicated the possibility of more formidable level two or higher monsters or creatures out there. Climbing the first branches of the tree, just above my own height, I carefully stood and dropped one large and one small stone. I observed that they both hit the ground simultaneously, unaffected by any differences in weight. Taking one of the stones, I threw it as far as I could, noticing that it fell in a smooth, even arc. It seemed that gravity was indeed applicable to this world. Next, I decided to hold my breath. After around fifty-two heartbeats, I had to take in some air, indicating that I would indeed need oxygen here too. Like in fiction, I tried shouting ¡°log out,¡± and ¡°disconnect,¡± once even yelling ¡°Alexa, log me out,¡± willing myself out of my newfound world with pure force of will. It quickly became clear, however, that this was not a virtual reality, or at least, there was no way for me to confirm it at present. Already well acquainted with the pain of this world, I decided that further testing in that aspect was unnecessary. It had convinced me that reaching zero Health would not be a good idea. With my experiments complete, I resolved to spend the rest of the day working on improving my skills and spells in any way possible. As I walked over to the stone altar, I couldn''t help but notice the chunks of meat that had been left there had become putrid and malodorous. Feeling disgusted, I hurled them as far as I could down the hill, away from the nearby pond. It seemed that I would have to feed both my bodily hunger and my desire to increase in power with the lives of a few more of the fish creatures. Creeping confidently along the edges of the pond with my newfound Stealth, I channeled my built-up frustration against these low-level creatures that had dared to harm me. Like an animal that had been beaten too many times and had finally snapped, rage filled me as I lured the creatures in small groups toward me. I ambushed the slow and the weak as they retreated back to their side of the water. My spear felt steadier in my hand, my attacks more calculated and precise, as I struck at them from my hiding place among the rushes. I would violently thrust, pierce, slice, and bludgeon the unsuspecting Bibsis until I received a notification of their demise. Butchering only what I needed for the day, I consumed my morning meal slimy and raw. Half-forcing each piece down my gullet as quickly as I could, I was ever watchful against attack. On my third ambush, I failed spectacularly. Hit in the face by one of their water balls, I felt nothing, before a second cannoned into me full on the chest, making me drop my half-spear in the shallow waters. I fumbled searching for it in the cool waters, gasping all the while in agonized breaths. Half-blind with pain, my questing hands found the familiar wooden haft, and I beat a hasty retreat. As I fled, I received another ball of water to my back that took out another chunk of my Health and caused me to scream. Healing myself and determined to reach level three, I ventured back again, albeit more cautiously this time. After a few more hours filled with pain and death, I was granted the much-anticipated notification;
You have reached level 3 3 unassigned attribute points 1 unassigned skill pointt
In the bottom right corner of my vision, the writhing shadowy tendril returned, obscuring a few of the numbers before blossoming into a cascade of indecipherable digits. A short countdown appeared, and the numbers began dropping rapidly with each beat of my heart. NINE¡­ EIGHT¡­ SEVEN¡­ Panicked, I willed all of my unassigned attributes into Constitution. SIX... FIVE... A surge of energy rose from my stomach to all of my extremities, leaving a feeling of exhilaration. My breath came a little easier, and the chill of the cold waters through my sodden robes seemed more distant. I felt more able, whole, and robust. THREE... TWO... With scant seconds to think and choose, I quickly looked within myself; searching for the presence of Heal and focusing on it. The countdown ended, but in my haste, at the same time I had selected it for improvement, I had also foolishly cast Heal, despite already being at full Health. I did not fully know what would happen if I did not allocate my points before the countdown ended, but I felt the price for learning such knowledge would be too steep. ¡°A waste...¡± I cursed silently, as I checked my Status confirming the changes to my character. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
STATUS
Calling: $%^& Level 3 Acolyte of Avaria Strength: 9 Dexterity: 10 Constitution: 15 Intelligence: 10 Wisdom: 9 Charisma: 8 Luck: 11
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1) Power Strike (lvl.1) Endure (lvl.1) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.1) Backstab (lvl.1) Dodge (lvl.1) Polearms (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.2) Rust (lvl.1) Identify (lvl.1)
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.
Experience to next level 220/364
Health: 29/29 Stamina: 24/24 Mana: 5/7
My Health had risen to a staggering twenty-nine points and my Stamina by another few to twenty-four, with no change to my Mana. Also, I could now increase the power of my spells and abilities by leveling up. I whooped for joy, the sense of accomplishment banishing my recent brushes with death and unbridled, unceasing violence. I posited that I would gain increased Health at each level, regardless of my Constitution score. Giddy at the prospect, I vowed to test this theory on my next level promotion. Bolstered with renewed confidence and seeking more gains, I cast Identify on the large flowering tree in front of me.
Aeyory Tree
???
The result was less remarkable than I had expected. Apart from identifying the name of the tree, I realized that magic was no substitute for basic human observation. With four Mana points left, I decided to identify another object close to me. Glancing down, I cast Identify at the fallen statuette lying at the feet of the stone altar. The now familiar, yet still uncomfortable, sensation of Mana flowed first around, and then out of my body towards the object.
Statuette of Avaria
???
Again, the spell gave me little that I could not have deduced on my own. Growling in frustration, I cast the spell again in my mind, focusing now on the blazing sun high in the sky. The name of a star roared across my vision like an exploding supernova¡­
Sahel (Star)
#$d...Dur......Ma..1110011100
This was followed by an infinite stream of numbers and raw data that flooded the hollows of my mind, threatening to tear it asunder with its scope. Clutching my head in agony, I screamed once more to the heavens in a primal, bestial shout of the purest pain. When it was finally over, I found myself on the ground, rocking back and forth while clutching my knees to my chest. Somewhere amidst the pain and shock, the thought, "Why didn''t Pain Nullification work?" repeated itself in rhythm with to my rocking. Despite the foolishness of it, I decided to cast the spell once more at the stone half-spear to my left. What did a little more pain matter anyway?
Broken Half of an Ancestor Spear
Durability 27/53
I smiled a crazy grin of the mad and the broken, as a notification briefly flashed across my vision before the pain and exhaustion took me once again.
You have gained 1 Intelligence. You have learned Identify (lvl.2)
I grinned at my bitter triumph. I had succeeded in increasing the level of a spell. Book 1: Surprise & Respite [Part 1] The Fae of the deep woods and the places of the In-Between honored ancient pacts and promises, presenting their best warriors and life mages. They also gave unto the First Children great stores of witchwood lumber, grown from the giant sentient trees that had roots in both worlds so that the elven craftsmen might make living ships to travel the deeps. The forces under the command of the Elven High King were named the Eastern Alliance, as an entire continent prepared for war. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. I awoke first to a kick in the stomach, to which I felt nothing except a mute impact. This was followed by another strike to the small of my back, and this time I very much felt it. I let out a howl of agony and struggled to open my eyes and my hand reached out for a weapon that was no longer there. As my vision cleared, I saw that I was surrounded by four individuals dressed in heavy fur-trimmed leathers and chainmail. Shock filled me as I realized that this was my first encounter with other people, and they did not appear to be at all friendly. Through the pain, I tried to explain that I meant no harm, that this must all be some sort of mistake. But all that escaped my lips were wheezing coughs. One of the men, whom I presumed to be the leader, wore a plumed iron nasal helm. He spat out a mixture of invectives, curses, and orders in a guttural language filled with far too many consonants. As I glanced at the other men, my eyes were drawn to the cruel weapons hanging from their belts. Their assortment of weapons, from cavalry sabers to crude-looking clubs, heightened their menacing presence. One of them held my broken half-spear reverently, and I subconsciously reached out for it, only to receive a stinging backhand to the face. The men were laughing cruelly at me, no doubt viewing me as no threat. Grasping at straws, I mentally targeted the leader of the small group and cast Identify to try and regain some control of the situation.
Bogurchu Batbayar - Waverider (Human lvl.12)
Health: 142/144 A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Stamina: 36/37 Mana: 8/8
The men continued to taunt me, their eyes filled with undisguised scorn. One of their brutish number straddled my back, pushing my face into the ground and muffling my cries of pain. I was overpowered like a child, and he grabbed my hair, forcing my head up and shouting at me in a rage-filled voice. Hot saliva droplets sprayed onto my face as he snarled at me in an unknown language. I imagined I could pick up one in three of his insults from his tone, something to do with my mother, animals, or perhaps slavery. Another of the men, squat and heavily muscled but bow-legged in the manner of experienced horsemen, kneeled before my face. Looking closely at him, I saw cruel black Asiatic eyes and a jagged scar running across his nose on a face that was pockmarked with the ravages of acne. His hands were calloused and rough from a hard life, and he ran them almost gently through my dirty hair, muttering soft tones of perverse appreciation. Then, from behind, I felt hands slipping up the hem of my robe, and another pair grabbed my buttocks firmly. Panicked, I tried to twist away, futilely flailing and kicking with my limbs. The men jeered and laughed at this, trading whoops and hollers with one another. With an angry grunt, Bogurchu pushed the man off me. Enraged, the man issued a feral challenge to the leader, snarling with pent-up frustration. Bogurchu, with a firm voice that brooked no rebellion, barked at the man until his eyes were downcast, and he grunted in frustration, stepping away from me. They then gagged me with a dirty cloth that tasted like ash and ruin filling my mouth. The brutes then covered my head with a crude sackcloth before tightly tying my limbs with rough rope. As I struggled to breathe, I felt another blow land on the back of my head, causing me to lose a significant amount of my Health. Finally, I succumbed to merciful unconsciousness. Awakening to darkness, my first sensations were of the acrid stench of the sackcloth, like a mix of rotten vegetables and spoiled milk. I became aware of the rocking motion of what seemed to be some sort of vehicle or wagon. Pain radiated from the back of my head, and a ringing sensation persisted in my brain. Blood trickled down the nape of my neck, and my limbs were numb from being tied for so long. The hood was ripped from my head and a rough canteen was brought to my lips. I drank fervently, the water tasting of leather and stale, before coughing a little to the crude jeers of the men. Two pairs of hands from behind set me down upon the ground, and I could see that the animal in front of me was just a horse. It reminded me of the steppe ponies I had seen in nature documentaries, but a few hands taller with stronger, more muscular flanks which promised great strength and endurance. Tied behind the animal, I was forced into a shuffling stumbling walk, half dragging against the rope that bound me. Looking wearily in front of me I saw the strangest of sights. Book 1: Surprise & Respite [Part 2] Before me was a sprawling city of tents surrounded by a high wooden palisade and a deep earthen ditch filled with sharpened stakes. Pairs of men armed with fine long lances patrolled upon the ramparts. There were four gates, at what I presumed were the cardinal points of the compass. Gasping, I saw that in the center was what could only be described as a great ark of a ship, like some enormous leviathan of the ocean that had been beached. Its neighbor was a large golden-domed white structure of some sort, reminiscent of the grand mosques I had seen back on Earth. Around the ark, four main streets of hard-packed earth sporadically paved with bleach-white stone, could be seen flowing from the center of the city. Scattered across the tents there were a few rare stone and wooden buildings one and two stories tall. Towards the east just outside the walls was a primordial forest of trees golden and green in the late afternoon light. The smoke of many charcoal burners could be seen at the forest¡¯s edge rising lazily into the air. Near the forest, I spied a quarry, or a mining pit, filled with workers toiling away at the alabaster rock. Taken together, the nomadic tents, the rough stone buildings, and the presence of primitive industry defied direct categorization. But the academic in me placed the level of civilization at around the 11th or 12th century, and a rough guess would establish the population at perhaps twenty to thirty thousand. Performing these rough calculations in my head, I was filled with a renewed sense of wonder, realizing that this single area was bigger in scale than the entirety of any of the adventure role-playing games I had played back on Earth. As I had stopped in my tracks, lost in wonder, someone kicked me from behind, forcing me to hurry and keep pace with the horse. Weary and exhausted, it was sundown when we finally approached the southern gate. Bogurchu exchanged words with the group of guards at the entrance before handing a length of knotted leather string and a single copper coin to a young boy who quickly scampered into the city. The streets were hard-packed mud, with occasional deep ruts. Shutters were closing as the city prepared for the night, and the sounds of city life filled the air. I could hear the sounds of when humanity is pressed together, the arguments, the minor violence, the crying of babies. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Close by, I saw a long line of miserable, pale-skinned, muscular men being led down a street in chains, their eyes devoid of hope. They passed us just as we walked by a large tent filled with music, laughter, and merriment, a stark contrast to the misery of the chained men. It was their equivalent of a tavern, I presumed. Occasionally, a mounted patrol would pass us, and Bogurchu would salute them with a closed fist over his chest. Finally, we arrived at our destination: a squat building of rough-cut stone, around two stories high. Every window of the building had wooden shutters and cast-iron bars. At the entrance, two guards stood, looking bored and tired in the way of men who had performed the same duty many times over. For them, every action and order had become rote and repetition. They saluted our leader before lazily making way for our party. Inside, a stubby, bored-looking man was reading characters written on animal hide at a desk. He looked up and gave us a lazy nod as we passed, before I was roughly shoved into a stone cell. The hinges of the stout iron door squealed in protest as it closed with an ominous clang, signaling the finality of my imprisonment. Through the bars of the cell, I saw the guards turn to leave, jauntily stepping away as if a job well accomplished. Further down from my cell, the sound of playful laughter could be heard. Men were giving each other a ribbing, only to be tersely cut short by an authoritative voice. My new environment consisted of a small cell, with a pile of straw in one corner. In the other corner, there were two buckets. One was filled with water and the other empty. The walls were made from solid stone of uniform length and shape, the gaps filled with damp, rotting mortar. A small window, secured with iron bars just above my head, let in a drizzle of twilight into my new, dank dwelling. I moved to the straw in the corner and sat down, feeling almost catatonic. Glancing at my Health reminded me that I had suffered great damage from my beating earlier that day. Silently, I cast Heal. Normally, in a game, I would be eager to try out an improved spell or skill, but now I felt nothing but dejected exhaustion. Halfheartedly, I noticed that my spell was healing me for five points of health, which was a vast improvement. This helped alleviate some of the aches that were running through my body. However, magic could do little for the bitter humiliation and the hope that had been cut savagely short. Huddled in the corner on the pile of straw, I hugged myself in the cold, damp cell. Feeling helpless, alone, weak, and under-leveled, I longed to return to the comforts and security of my old life. Frustrated by the absolute powerlessness I had experienced, I wept myself to a troubled sleep, filled with grim dreams of cruel men. Book 1 - Introspection Prophecy is a rare talent, granted only to a select few by the River God. The ability to glimpse the future, by classical definition, implies a linear and well-defined path. However, if one could truly know the future, even for a moment, it would mean that all destiny is predetermined and immutable. The truth, however, is far more complex. Time flows like a river, but it is not a straight and unalterable course. Instead, it is a winding and meandering current that curves around islands of primordial chaos and Entropy, which taint the very fabric of our existence. The gift of prophecy is unique in that those who possess it can see many, but not all, possible threads of the future. With their own will and agency, they can eliminate unwanted paths, thus serving the temple of the God of the Wend and Way. In this way, the oracular visionaries can guide the course of events toward a more favorable outcome. - On the Prophecy of the Gods by Gideon de Salavia 376 AC. The next day, I was jolted awake by shouting. One of the guards slid a tray of food into my cell. My stomach rumbled as I picked up the meal. The tray had a crudely carved wooden bowl filled with some sort of thick gruel. I hesitantly tasted the liquid, uneasy at the meaty chunks within. The flavor was bland with the texture of chewed salty cardboard, but I still hungrily slurped down the rough repast. It was my first "civilized" meal in this new world, I thought to myself miserably. The meal did wonders for my mental state. For better or worse, I had encountered civilization. According to my Identify spell, the inhabitants were human. Being fed at least meant that they were not planning on killing me, at least not immediately. Despite my recent dire ¡®cultural exchange¡¯ with the locals, I was for some bizarre reason cautiously optimistic. I felt, or rather hoped, that there was at least a little room to maneuver and improve my fate. This was a very different situation from killing murderous amphibious fish. Yet, humans could be every bit as cruel as monsters. I remembered yesterday''s savage beating and swore vengeance against the men who had found me. I now had the chance to review my situation and take stock. The previous day was just an unskippable story event, I rationalized to myself. After a good rest, my Health had been restored to just a little under my maximum, and my Mana and Stamina were both full. I noticed that likely due to the beatings and forced march, I had gained a point of Constitution. Almost automatically, I cast Heal, a habit ingrained from a lifetime of playing online roleplaying games to maintain my Health. This time, the familiar sensation of magic enveloped me with a new twist. The movements and sensations were slower and stronger, like water building up pressure behind a dam. A warm pulse flowed through my core, unlike any previous casting, leaving me feeling a little tired when the spell finally ended.
You have learned Silent Casting (lvl.1)
So instinctive was my casting that I had forgotten to say "Heal," the verbal component of the spell. I had simply willed the spell to be. Wonder filled me as I considered the implications of this new ability, a potential ace in future encounters. They would be unaware of what spells, if any, I was going to unleash upon them. However, I did note that this method of casting took a little extra time, perhaps a scant few seconds. Still, in combat, even a few seconds could be an eternity. "Carpe Diem," one of my father''s familiar quotes, rose unbidden to my mind. It meant "seize the day," and I intended to take full advantage of my situation, despite the dire straits I found myself in. Stealthily, I moved to the bars of my cell, checking that no guards were watching my next move. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. I decided to train my body while waiting for my Mana to recover. In my cell, I began a series of exercises: jumping jacks, push-ups, crunches, and even using the barred window frame for pull-ups. Every time I lifted myself up, chin above the shutter''s barred bottom ledge, I caught a glimpse of the small square outside, now empty, and the main thoroughfare that ran alongside it. I continued to push myself until my Stamina reached zero, arms screaming with effort. Still straining with all my will, I began to taste blood at the back of my throat as I finished my last pull-up. Panting heavily, I realized that I had pushed myself so hard that I had caused some damage to my Health, dropping by a single point. Resting and allowing my Stamina to recover, I seized the opportunity to now sharpen my mind. Sitting cross-legged atop a heap of straw in the corner, I closed my eyes and delved into a reflective exercise, scrutinizing my past actions from the moment of my arrival into this world up until now. What might I have done differently? What crucial lessons have I gleaned? Taking a deep breath, I plunged deeper into my past, attempting to summon long-lost fragments of information from half-remembered lessons. I pondered a host of topics, ranging from mathematics and science to economics, history, astronomy, and religion. Drawing upon my mental faculties, I focused on the realm of science, reexamining what I knew about atoms, particles, charge, and bonds. These were the very building blocks of the material world that I once knew, and I worked diligently to reinforce my previous knowledge and understanding. And for my tireless efforts, I was to be rewarded.
You have gained 1 Intelligence.
The notification flashed across my mind, and I laughed with pure joy. The local culture that I had encountered was nowhere near as developed as my own world. As a student in the modern world, I stood upon thousands of years of accumulated knowledge and wisdom. What was taught so casually in a classroom would take me far beyond the scholars of this small settlement, perhaps even of this world. I realized that I might have finally found my edge to survive in this cruel place. Throughout the day, I continued much in the same way, training both my mind and body in the cell and thankful for the security of its walls. During my training, I gained a single point each in Constitution and Strength. Every time a small voice urged me to lie down and take a rest, I thought of Bogurchu and the scarred man. Remembering the touch of his fingers across my face brought a shiver of revulsion, and I redoubled my efforts. My body was becoming stronger, my limbs felt more powerful, my movements more graceful, and my breathing a little more even when I pushed myself to the fullest. However, the most striking change of all was in my mental faculties. As my Intelligence attribute grew, I found that I could recollect things more clearly, and concepts that I was taught but did not fully understand came more easily to me. Slowly, as my burgeoning intellect grew, I was able to recall a greater depth of obscure facts that I already knew but thought had forgotten. This, in turn, allowed me to increase my Intelligence attribute further, which propelled even more clarity of thought. Breathing deeply, I settled myself. If Intelligence was learning, knowledge, and retention, then Wisdom must surely be the correct application of that knowledge. With my new intellect, I recalled the works of Aesop, Plato, Socrates, and other great classical thinkers. I pondered deeply on the implications of morality and man¡¯s place in the universe, situating the arguments of these great thinkers within the context of my new reality. As the day turned to dusk, I was rewarded for my efforts with a notification that I had gained a point in Wisdom. Opening my eyes, I noticed that sometime during my meditations a new tray of food had been delivered. Checking the contents, I saw what looked like the sorry remains of a root vegetable placed in with my gruel. I had to take sustenance wherever I could find it, and I promptly devoured my meal, leaving the tray by the entrance to my cell. It would do me no favors to antagonize my jailers by making their job difficult. The idea of planning some sort of daring escape at this stage struck me as similarly foolhardy. My encounter with Bogurchu and his men had left an indelible mark of fear on me. I made excuses to myself, doubting that I would last long on my own in this high-level zone. I decided to play it safe and wait for the next story event on this quest arc. I needed to improve myself and get stronger. With the pale moon of this world casting an argentine blue light into my cell, I continued my mental training well into the night. Before sleep took hold of me, I remembered that it was likely my ex-girlfriend¡¯s birthday today, and I silently wished her the very best wherever she may be. I wondered if time flowed differently in this world compared to my old one. For all I knew, the days were longer here, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep track of time. But I was wise enough now to know that it was neither of our faults that things had ended the way they did. Life and circumstances could turn anyone into a monster. Book 1: Corridors of the Mind The language of the knots served as the Tide Children''s solution to a life spent braving the cold, gray seas. Parchment and paper were far too susceptible to rot in the salt-laden air. Instead, they wove intricate patterns into lengths of twine, silk, cordage, or any combination thereof, each knot communicating a surprising level of detail and meaning. To my untrained eye, this method of recording information seemed slow and unwieldy, but I realized that it was likely a mere reflection of my own shortcomings as one who was not born to a life upon the ever-shifting waves. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. The following morning was spent a little differently from the last. I began with a basic breakfast, followed by vigorous physical training consisting mostly of calisthenics. As I completely drained my stamina, I healed the damage to my Health with magic. At the end of this brutal session, I was awarded an increase to my Constitution. Then, I continued the mental training of my Intelligence and Wisdom, slipping back into the knowledge and lessons of my old world. I still had a few ideas on how to increase my Charisma and Luck, but my attempt to alter the former through interaction with my jailers failed when they pointedly chose to ignore me. Late in the morning, the sounds of the bustling city outside filtered into my cell. I watched the busy scene of people going about their daily lives from my window, and as I finished my set of pull-ups, a flash of inspiration came to me. A little way outside my cell, in a small square, a market was forming. Sellers had set up many stalls with a wide variety of goods, ranging from the mundane to the exotic: pots and pans, arms and armor, tropical fruit, and even menacing, alien-looking creatures caged in bars of cold steel. The merchants hawked their wares with guttural cries, no doubt espousing the quality of their goods and offering bargains. The smell of cooking meat and unfamiliar vegetables wafted into my cell, and I felt a rumbling in my stomach, which I chose to ignore. Regret filled me as I held myself up to the bars, my gateway to the outside world. I spotted a middle-aged turbaned man in furs arguing jovially with a woman clad in fancy colorful clothes of amber and gold. I steeled myself as I prepared to cast a spell. Focusing again on the man, I shifted my attention to the words that he was speaking; I blocked everything else out of my mind and cast Identify. A swathe of information poured into my understanding for the brief few seconds I connected with him, the man''s words translating into my native English. Practicing the new words on my tongue, I had difficulty mimicking the coarse guttural tones and inflections. I was astonished to find that I could recall his words with almost crystal clarity, a feat that I would have found impossible in my foreign language classes at home. A wave of homesickness threatened to drop me into despair, but I pushed my feelings down. I fired off Identify spells at random conversations, sating my curiosity and increasing my vocabulary, but also thankfully distracting me from thoughts of home. Driven by a need to understand the language of the men I swore vengeance against, I vowed to learn their primitive language. After a second round of mental training and rest, I once again pulled myself up to the bars, draining a little of my Stamina. The market was closing for the day, with people breaking down stalls and packing away their goods, but I was still able to catch some words. As I continued to listen, I began to understand more of the language, this time without the aid of magic. Whether it was due to the lingering effect of repeated use of the spell, or my growing intellect, I had begun to grasp the structure and patterns of the language. Each word was a key to a door that opened new meaning, and every assembled pattern of grammar a corridor that revealed higher concepts of the language. A notification confirmed my progress with another increase in my Intelligence. Pleased with my scholarly progress, I took a moment to congratulate myself for my creative use of magic to learn their language, armoring myself with a false sense of superiority as a thin defense against the powerlessness of my situation. During a lull in prison life, I noticed that the local fauna had decided to pay a visit to my cell. Small insect-like creatures scuttled into view, about the size of a large coin, featuring considerable mandibles, two joint thoraxes, and two pairs of legs attached to an upcurved abdomen. Inquisitively, two or three of them would skitter about my cell when I was perfectly still. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. I threw small loose stones that had fallen off the wall at them, making a game of it. With a lucky strike, I was able to injure and slow one of them. I finished the injured creature with a quick stomp. Blue viscera stained the stone floor, but I was not rewarded with any experience points. The mini games of this world were a bit of a letdown, I thought to myself. With this successful act of violence against a helpless creature, fantasies of hot vengeance filled my mind. I undertook another hard round of physical training, earning an increase of one point in both Dexterity and Strength. Before resting for the night, I decided to look at my character sheet. I was pleased with the gains across my attributes; thanks to my herculean regimen, my Constitution sat at eighteen points. Also, I noticed that I had considerably boosted my Intelligence and gained a smaller bump in Wisdom, no doubt due to my meditations. Casting magic and the active pursuit of understanding had also increased my maximum Mana. The hike in my physical attributes had bumped up my Health and Stamina, and I had gained a marginal increase of twenty points of experience for my efforts. It appeared that in this world there were three ways to gain experience: quests, the practice of skills, and cold-blooded killing. The last reminded me of the party that found me, and I coldly swore to turn them into experience points. With my efforts, I had more or less countered the effects of my initial curse. Nodding in satisfaction with the growth of my mental faculties, I curled up on my pile of straw and faded off to an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
STATUS
Calling: $%^& Level 3 Acolyte of Avaria Strength: 11 Dexterity: 11 Constitution: 18 Intelligence: 15 Wisdom: 11 Charisma: 8 Luck: 11
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1) Power Strike (lvl.1) Endure (lvl.1) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.1) Backstab (lvl.1) Dodge (lvl.1) Polearms (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.2) Rust (lvl.1) Identify (lvl.2) Silent Casting (lvl.1)
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.
Experience to next level 240/364
Health: 29/33 Stamina: 2/28 Mana: 1/10
Book 1: Arbitrary Justice [Part 1] After many years the great horde started their journey across the vast Untouched seas, unmolested by the scaled leviathans of the deep. The dragons had negotiated their safe passage, securing it in the ancient way of their kind. The serpents of the sky and sea were to be bound together once more. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. I was not in any immediate danger, but the monotony of life stuck behind bars, unable to enjoy the wider world, was taking its toll. I wanted to be free, but for the time being, I had to content myself with a little experimentation and training. It seemed that magical healing, as tested with rigorous exercise, could relieve the body of muscle fatigue when cast. As long as I had the Stamina, Mana, and will, I could engage in a torturous loop of self-improvement. However, it seemed that fate had other plans in store for me. On the third day of my incarceration, instead of one of the guards, a boy just on the cusp of adulthood appeared to deliver my first meal. Exhausted after a strenuous bout of exercise, I was sitting cross-legged in the corner of my cell when the sound of the meal tray disturbed me. As I stirred from my meditations on the nature of the state¡¯s responsibility to the people, my eyes met his and he suddenly backed away from the bars of my cell. Short, cropped hair between a dark brown and true black, a button nose slightly set in a round face with a weak jaw, and panicked brown eyes that had opened in surprise like wide saucers. He wore a brown ill-fitting woolen tunic two sizes too big for him with large buttons made of horn, and coarse linen trousers. The overall impression was of a startled mouse surprised by a cat. Feigning calm, I cast Identify on the boy.
Jongshoi Aigiam - Trainee Warrior (Human lvl.6)
Health: 48/48 Stamina: 22/22 Mana: 6/6
My Identify spell failed to reveal his primary attributes. However, I could discern that he likely had little in the way of Constitution despite being at a higher level than me due to his comparatively low Stamina. Perhaps he was a ¡®glass cannon¡¯ with a ridiculous amount of Strength, but I doubted it. Furthermore, having such a low amount of Mana would indicate to me that he was possibly not the sharpest tool in the shed. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. In an attempt to appear approachable, I smiled to greet him, my voice unsteady and hesitant. ¡°Jongshao,¡± I called out in a halting voice, likely butchering the language. His eyes only opened wider, changing from surprise to fear. He cried out words of alarm, scrabbling to get as far away from me as possible. Two of the guards promptly marched to my cell. Armored in a mixture of half-plate and sturdy leathers, with mean eyes and meaner weaponry, one of them rapped loudly on the bars with an unsheathed dagger. The message was clear with implied violence; I was to be silent and not cause trouble. I glared at the guards as they turned their backs to leave, realizing why Jongshoi had panicked. Never had I asked him for his name, and I cursed my mistake. I did not know how this culture viewed magic; perhaps he thought I was a witch who had cursed him. My cell was no longer a safe haven from the world. Suddenly, the idea of trying to make a daring escape became more appealing than waiting passively for circumstances to change. It seemed that my unlucky encounter with Jongshoi was an omen of further misfortune. Later, despite almost bursting a blood vessel with my efforts in training, I gained no bonuses to my attributes. Perhaps this was due to the game becoming exponentially difficult as you progressed? I berated myself, realizing I could not think of this as a game. This was a world filled with all too real pain and suffering. Pulling myself up onto the barred window ledge, I resumed my quest to learn their alien language. By the end of my session, with the help of my magical abilities and increased language ability, I could understand about seven out of ten words in spoken conversation. I was now able to demonstrate feats of learning that would have impressed even the most talented of linguists in my previous life. The city''s name was Ansan, a frontier mining town by the standards of my world, and it was famous for two things. First, the mammoth ship located in the city center. Legend had it that the ship was placed there as the waters receded after a cataclysmic event known as the "Breaking" or "Scouring." However, it remained shrouded in mystery as to how or when this event occurred. Nowadays, the ship served as the seat of local governance for the people known in their language as the "Children of the Tides." They were originally a maritime people before the Breaking. The second point of notoriety for the city was its burgeoning slave trade. Ansan''s flesh markets, slave pits, and fighting dens were infamous among the trade caravans that frequented the city. The Children of the Tides were a martial people whose economy revolved around a constant state of war and slavery. Outside the city, near the forest, were mines rich with ore, worked on by slaves who were brought in by the Children''s never-ending wars. Marketplace rumors hinted at recent movement in the Sainba, the primordial forest to the east of the city. Strange chittering creatures had been sighted along its borders by charcoal burners who made their living at its edges, disrupting the supply of precious fuel for the mines. This had resulted in a visible increase in military patrols in the area and the air was tense, taut as a bowstring ready to be released. Straining my ears, I had also heard hushed and cryptic rumors that a local place of some religious significance had been desecrated, causing consternation among the warrior classes. I found it odd that there was no mention of levels, attributes, experience, or magic. Were any of these subjects a local taboo? Book 1: Arbitrary Justice [Part 2] A few hours later, I had another visitor. I heard the clank of armored feet and the scream of tortured hinges as my cell door opened. Without any ceremony, a new group entered my prison; a veritable hag of an old woman who was flanked by two burly guards whom I did not recognize. The crone was a small, hunched thing, clothed in dark brown robes the color of fresh-turned earth. She wore animal necklaces and fetishes made of bones, teeth, and claws of unidentified beasts around her neck. In her left hand was a walking stick made of gnarled wood, with black feathers placed along its tip. Her hair was lank and light gray and dribbled down across her face and shoulders. A hawk-like nose, thin narrow lips, and black piercing eyes gave the overall impression of a shriveled mystic raptor. Her burly guards, clad in a mixture of unadorned plate, chainmail, and riding leathers, funneled past her. One of them carried a thick orange cloth rug of some sort, which he laid across the middle of my cell. She indicated for her guards to position themselves behind her, standing to her left and right. The guard to her right, who had a porcine face with a large bulbous nose, idly explored the depths of one of his nasal cavities through his open-faced helm. Finding no treasure, he wiped his hand on his leather tassets before fixing me with a menacing glare. As he shot daggers at me, the woman hitched up the hem of her robe and, with a small cough, sat cross-legged on the rug. I started to offer a half-hearted greeting, but she cut me off with a raised hand and gestured for me to sit. Timidly, I sat down on the rug across from her. She smiled at me in the way a snake eyes up a rabbit. Looking me directly in the eyes, she tried to greet me in a language that resembled Latin but was heavily accented. Confusion must have shown on my face as she switched back to her native language. "Outlander," accused the old crone in a clear lilting soprano voice that was surprisingly firm and strong, belying her advanced age. She noticed the dawn of understanding written across my features. "Do you know why you are here?" she continued, telling more than questioning. I began to mouth a reply before she interrupted and plowed on, "I am Navigator Olai of the Second Fleet. You have caused quite a stir and no end of trouble. Jongshoi accuses you of witchcraft, but from his tale, I deduced that you probably gleaned his name from one of his inane conversations with one of his father''s friends here. They gossip like little unmarried girls! Did you know the foolish boy begged and skipped one of his duties to view the strange outlander? We must move up the schedule for his blooding, put a little bit of spine into the lad." As I was ruminating about my failure with my Jongshoi, one of her scrawny arms shot out like a snake and grabbed my face just under my chin with surprising strength. The guards moved their hands to the weapons at their hips as she tilted my head at a slight angle, examining me with cool, calculating eyes. "Too pale to be a Qisnian, and too short to be an Imperial," she said, now looking at my soft, uncalloused hands. "Perhaps a runaway house slave or some noble''s get? What possessed you to desecrate the shrine, break the Spear of the First Ancestor, and burn the words of the Covenant? And to make matters worse, why did you kill the sacred Rain-Bringers and partake of their flesh?" Her fingers tapped my chest with each accusation. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "I didn''t..." I started, but the hag didn''t let me finish. "You would deny this? Each of these crimes alone warrants death." My face grew flushed, and one of her thin eyebrows arched as she continued. "You were the only intelligent being, and I use this term very loosely, in a day''s ride of the shrine. The Sea Council has come to a conclusion, despite your mysterious origins, to dispose of you..." I cut her off as my annoyance came to a head and I interrupted her. "I didn''t desecrate your shrine, and I didn''t break the spear. They were like that when I found them. Please, you have to understand!" I begged as I reached out to her. The guards began to draw their weapons, but she raised her hand, stopping them in mid-motion. "Your pronunciation is lamentable. Like an Imperial dog farting out what it thinks is speech," I directly translated her harsh response in my mind. "Even if this was true," she said now in a softer voice, "what of your other crimes?" My mind scrambled to make a plausible excuse in those precious few moments and drew a solid blank at the trap she had laid with her framing. "I would have had you killed mercifully, by sharp blade or poison. We are not savages, after all. But the Commodore and the Captains are loath to waste resources, and they wish to make an example of you," she sighed in tired resignation. "What is your name, young man, that we may announce your sentence on the sands?" I felt pins and needles in my brain in response to her innocent question. I wracked my mind, trying to remember my name. No matter how hard I tried, it eluded me, like trying to grasp motes of light. Panic was just beginning to set in before I remembered that this must be the part where my character got to choose their name. I quickly settled on one from my other world. His legend was that of the first hero, to which all others were but pale copies. His name would become legend in this world too. "Gilgamesh," I said with a confidence that I hoped hid the little quiver in my voice and the trembling of my hands. Out of one of the folds of her clothes, she drew a many-knotted cord of crimson, the color of freshly spilled blood on snow. Running her hand along its length, as if reading, a lump formed in my throat as she pronounced my sentence in a distant authoritative voice. "Gilgamesh. You have been judged of crimes against the people. Their eyes have turned from you. Still, you have been granted a chance to redeem yourself of these vile deeds. When Sahel is at her highest tomorrow, you will be brought to the sands of the Winnowing. Your death will blood our next generation of warriors. Should you find the favor of the gods, you will be allowed to live the life of a slave. May the divines watch over you." Her words lingered in my mind as she rose abruptly on creaking joints, shooing away her guards'' proffered aid. They departed as swiftly as they had arrived, abandoning the carpet on the ground. Though my ingrained sense of etiquette urged me to remind them of their forgetfulness, the bars of my cell closed with a finality akin to that of a judge''s gavel, cutting off any further attempt at communication. Book 1: The Sword of Damocles [Part 1] The Queen¡¯s first egg was to be presented in ten turns of the seasons as a new bride. Such was the desperation of the alliance with the fate of the world on their shoulders. The Dragons in their great pride would never forget what the ¡®lesser races¡¯ had forced upon them, and their resentment would only grow with the passage of time. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. Calm. I sought calm amidst the battlefield of my thoughts. A thousand times, I replayed my exchange with Jongshoi and Navigator Olai. Was there anything I could have done to steer the conversation in a different direction? To find a different path, a different strand of fate to cling to? Trapped in endless contemplation, I circled my cell, ruminating ceaselessly, as the dawn''s rosy glow kindled the horizon. Soon after, the hush of the night was replaced by the clamor of industry and commerce. My breakfast was a death row inmate¡¯s last meal without the flavor. Despite all my efforts, my last training session only resulted in a single point increase in Strength. This led to a small boost in Health, and from that, I deduced that Strength''s threshold for increasing Health was likely every four points. Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution all played a role in determining my endurance and stamina, though I had not yet calculated to what degree. I smiled wryly, thinking that if I were back home, I would have sifted through the message boards, forums, and wikis to confirm my theory. Here, I had only myself to rely on. I checked my character sheet as I prepared to face the rest of the day. It appeared that I had also gained an additional ten experience points, and my character sheet had been updated with the name I had chosen. Once again, I marveled at the game-like nature of this world, far removed from my old one.
STATUS
Calling: Gilgamesh Level 3 Acolyte of Avaria Strength: 12 Dexterity: 11 Constitution: 18 Intelligence: 15 Wisdom: 11 Charisma: 8 Luck: 11
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1) Power Strike (lvl.1) Endure (lvl.1) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.1) Backstab (lvl.1) Dodge (lvl.1) If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Polearms (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.2) Rust (lvl.1) Identify (lvl.2) Silent Casting (lvl.1)
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.
Experience to next level 250/364
Health: 36/36 Stamina: 29/29 Mana: 10/10
There would be no point in training now; I needed to face my trial with a fresh mind and body. I had little doubt I would be pushed to the limit with the odds stacked against me. As my time approached, however, I refused to give in to fear. I overruled the thoughts that hung over me like the sword of Damocles. I tried to formulate a strategy for my upcoming combat by analyzing my abilities. Between my Mana and my level two Heal spell, I had forty-one points of effective Health, provided I wasn''t instantly killed by a single attack. It was actually a respectable forty-six points if I was willing to brave the pain and disorientation of bottoming out my Mana, although I conceded that this might not be feasible in a combat situation. Perhaps I could use it with my Pain Nullification skill to some sort of advantage? Power Strike was a skill I could use three times before I started taking potentially serious damage to my Health, but I worried whether I would be strong enough to inflict significant harm against my enemies. How tough exactly was the average human in this world? Bogurchu seemed like the sort who was hard as nails, with his tremendous one hundred and forty-four points of Health. Dread filled me at the thought of having to face someone like that. On the bright side, Navigator Olai mentioned that the "Winnowing" was some sort of test for their younger members, which could mean that my opponents would not be as tough as Bogurchu. However, they would almost certainly be of a higher level than me. For all intents and purposes, I was like a newborn in this world. Yet, if I managed to survive, I would no doubt gain a significant amount of experience. My hands began to shake as I realized that I might have to take another human life to stay alive. Was it in me, I wondered. I resolved that if it came down to a choice between my life and someone else''s, I would not play the role of a martyr. After about an hour or so, two armored men wearing wolf-masked face helms and outfitted in overlapping plates that resembled the chitin of beetles entered my cell. Each of them carried a long two-pronged man-catcher-like device, which exuded an aura of tightly coiled menace. I weighed my options, considering that this might be the prime moment to make a break for freedom. However, indecision took over, and I missed my chance as one of them caught me by the neck and began dragging me out of the cell. I raised my hands in the universal sign of surrender and exclaimed in their language that I would walk willingly. However, they just grunted in the way of busy men and tugged harder on my leash. Once I was out of the cell, the other guard attached his man-catcher around my neck, and they began pushing me with the length of their polearms, directing me towards the outside street. As we passed by my sullen-looking guards, there were no more jeers or mocking laughter. When we reached the main entrance, the bright morning sun greeted me, causing me to squint and slow down a fraction against its light. Two guards standing post at the door stifled their chuckles as my bare feet touched the hard-packed earth of the street. My escort suddenly stopped behind me, pushing me slightly down and indicating a space on my left by my feet. "Put them on," one of them growled in a surly voice as I noticed a rough pair of well-worn leather sandals on the floor by the entrance, perhaps a size too big for me. I knelt down and slowly put them on, my fingers unsure with the buckles and intricate straps. I was tempted to use Identify on my new footwear but thought better of it. I would need every scrap of mana for my upcoming challenge. Book 1: The Sword of Damocles [Part 2] After I finished putting them on, my escort shouted for me to keep walking. Their voices were clipped and harsh as they pushed me again with their long man-catchers. I could feel the hard stone floor through the thin soles of my sandals. The bustling market outside my prison cell was a cacophony of colors and sounds, a lively display of human commerce and interaction. Merchants of all kinds vied for attention, their voices rising in a chaotic symphony of salesmanship. Some spoke in hushed tones, conspiring with potential customers, while others bellowed their wares with all the fervor of street preachers. During this swirl of activity, a magician caught my eye. He drew a silken blue cloth from the ear of a blushing young woman, eliciting gasps and applause from the crowd gathered around him. I watched with a curious detachment, wondering if the magic was real or merely an illusion created by sleight of hand. As I made my way through the throngs of people, moving beyond the market and onto the main street, a young girl caught sight of me. Her cherubic face turned toward her mother, and she pointed in my direction, her eyes wide with wonder. "Is that the outlander?" she asked, her voice ringing out above the din of the crowd. Her mother quickly hushed her, casting a furtive glance in my direction before hurrying away. But the girl lingered for a moment, pulling at her mother¡¯s hand before stealing one last look at me before disappearing into the crowd. The people we passed who were milling about on the main thoroughfare paid us little heed, their gazes sliding off us like water off a smooth stone. It was clear that our presence here was nothing new to them. They had seen it all before. A small brown mongrel dog caught our attention as it began to bark, its single white eye spot contrasting sharply against its matted fur. The dog''s yapping drew a disheveled man out of a nearby tent, stumbling and lurching like a drunken sailor. He was followed by a cacophony of screams and hurled objects, much to the amusement of his neighbors. Despite the alienness of our situation, it was clear that humanity was still humanity in this strange new world. The petty squabbles and crude humor of these people were no different from those from the world I had left behind. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. We strode past a multitude of round tents made from hides and oilcloth; their shapes reminiscent of the yurts of the Mongolian steppes. Some boasted intricate patterns, with threads of green and red intertwining like waves on the open sea. But for the most part, they were dull, squat things. I would have liked to have had a better look at some of them, but my eyes were drawn instead to a building made of clean-cut white stone. A symbol of a crossed sword over a wooden torch hung above the iron-banded entrance, marking it as some kind of armory or weapons shop. Just as we passed, the door burst open, and a hulking giant of a man stumbled out, his massive form filling the doorway. A greatsword was strapped to his back, nearly as long as he was tall, and he drew it with a mocking roar of rage. His ham-sized hands gripped the leather-bound hilt under a cross guard just over the width of the blade, the weapon''s shallow fuller running about three-quarters up its length. As he waved the sword back at the people inside the building, shouting unknown curses, I could not help but marvel at its craftsmanship. The double-edged blade gleamed in the sunlight, and I could sense the power and weight of the weapon even from a distance. Following the giant of a man was a thin figure draped in loose, dark blue robes, with golden esoteric patterns sewn into the fabric around the sleeves and hem. He wore a wide-brimmed conical hat with the tip slightly folded, looking every bit like a wizard out of a role-playing fantasy game as he joined in his friend''s laughter. As they exited the building, a platinum blonde woman stormed out behind them, shaking with fury and fists clenched at her sides. Clad from neck to toe in plate and mail armor, a white tabard with a golden chalice hung loosely over her armored chest. A flanged mace, with sharp spikes protruding from its head, was slung from a belt made of thick iron rings. She delivered a powerful punch to the bare shoulder of the barbarian man, but the force of her own blow unbalanced her, nearly causing her to stumble. The giant of a man only laughed harder at her momentary loss of composure. Ah, I concluded, a typical adventuring party," I thought to myself, before my escort shouted at me to pick up the pace. For a long while, I could still hear the woman berating the man in what sounded like a form of Latin, until we passed another market square, and the sounds of their argument were drowned out by the hubbub of the city. We took a left turn from the bustling main avenue and continued through the labyrinth of tents. As we progressed, the object of our journey came into sharp focus: a colossal circular structure crafted entirely from massive wooden logs, fashioned in the style of a primitive Roman arena. A small market had formed around the periphery of the building, and the air was thick with a sense of festivity as the din of commerce grew louder with each step. The throng of people surrounding us began to part as we made our way through a myriad of colorful stalls. In our wake, I could hear the murmurs and whispers of the populace as they debated my fate. Finally, we arrived at the arena''s entrance. Its colossal iron portcullis, resembling the jaws of some beast that had devoured a multitude of humans, loomed before us. Guards draped themselves lazily around the entrance, idly leaning against great glaives of banded wood and bladed steel. As I stepped through the threshold, a chill crept into my bones, and I felt the gnawing sensation of dread in the pit of my stomach that I had been marked for sacrifice to this place. I was shoved roughly into a wooden cell, and once again, I was left alone with my thoughts. Book 1: The Sword of Damocles [Part 3] Yet another cell, I grumbled to myself. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimly lit room, and when they did, I realized I was very much in deep trouble. A small slat in the door allowed a sliver of sunlight to penetrate the gloom, illuminating the sandy floor of the cell. Above, a series of cables, winches, and pulleys were attached to the door, no doubt designed to lift it when it was my turn to fight. This was a fighting pit of some sort. I could hear the murmurs of a crowd through the opening and quickly made my way over to see what was causing the commotion. Looking through the open slat, I peered out to see what was causing the ruckus. Though my vision was limited, I could see a roughly circular arena with a white sand floor. Above the sands, rose a fenced wooden stand area made of rough-hewn logs. The audience was a mix of unarmed citizens and armored martial types, all shouting and cheering. As I watched, from the other end of the arena, I could see an armored warrior entering with a swagger that exuded confidence and skill. I was tempted to use Identify to get a better sense of his abilities, but I knew that Mana was precious and had to be conserved. I was surprised by a sudden grinding noise, as the wooden reinforced door to the cell on my right was raised. Quickly looking back through my window to the arena, I observed a ceremony official with a colorful plumed helmet and a bronze breastplate throwing a gray steel weapon into the center of the arena. A scrawny figure, clad in rags, abruptly darted from the cell to the center of the sand, scooping up the weapon with thin, weak arms as if it were the most precious thing in the world before adopting his best fighting stance. The crowd roared their approval. The shape on closer inspection was a pitifully poor specimen of a man. His beard and hair were a long and unkempt brown, and his eyes were wild with panic, and fear. He was holding a straight steel or iron short sword with both hands in front of him, arms inexpertly locked and stiff. Across from him, the armored warrior closed his face helm, concealing his expression from view, and hefted a large shield in his left arm. Holding a curved backsword in his right hand, he executed a few simple flourishes before walking languidly up to his opponent. The crowd''s cheers and jeers faded into a distant hum as the warrior closed in on his prey. For every step forward he took, the wild man took back a step as if forced by an invisible aura. The armored warrior reached the center of the arena and gave a wild ululating battle cry, which was met by a great roar from the crowd as he suddenly charged. The man who was clad in rags broke and panicked, seeking to escape to the arena¡¯s edge. He threw his sword down and tried to clamber up the stanchions. After his second failed attempt, he gave up and retrieved his short sword with shaking hands, his eyes now filled with the look of a cornered animal. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Clad in heavy armor, the warrior moved closer with fast but sure steps. Sprinting, he aimed a cool, methodical cut at the poor soul in rags, who threw up his sword to block the blow. His effort was in vain as the warrior¡¯s long, curved blade cut a crescent through the air, leaving a red line across the poor man¡¯s chest. Screaming in pain and shock, the thin man crumpled to his knees, holding his pouring lifeblood through his hands. Methodically, like a gardener plucking weeds, the armored man put an end to his misery with a simple flick of the wrist, cutting across his throat and severing the thread of his life. Turning to the crowd, he raised one closed fist in salute, and another roar of approval erupted. Another of the Children of the Tides had been blooded this day. Despite the violently surreal scene playing out in front of me, I could not help but briefly wonder how many experience points the victorious warrior had gained from killing his opponent. It was a callous thought, but one that revealed the brutal nature of this place. As soon as the man fell to the ground, the victor picked up the defeated man¡¯s short sword in his other hand and turned back to his corner, walking through the gates at the far end to the riotous applause of the crowd. On the sands, a group of young boys, between the ages of ten and fifteen, hurriedly dragged the corpse away in preparation for the next bout. This scene would repeat itself ten more times as the doors to my left and right were opened one by one. Blood was spilled on the sand, and a bitter harvest was reaped. Some prisoners surrendered without a struggle, huddling in their cells, and were butchered like livestock. Others fought with all their might and were cut down in a gruesome display of force. One desperate soul even tried to outrun his fate, but the mocking jeers of the spectators were little comfort as he met his end like an animal. It was a stark reminder that in this world, as in any other, power was the only currency that truly mattered. The unfairness of it all made my blood boil. The only way I could prevent myself from devolving into a state of utter panic was to compartmentalize and view the upcoming trial as if it were part of a game. I thought of it as the stage of the main questline, perhaps the end of the tutorial phase, after which I could finally explore the wider world. As the door to my cell slowly rose with the grinding of gears, an official from above threw a weapon onto the sands. It traced a graceful arc, glittering as it reached its zenith before falling to signal the start of the Blooding. It was a kill-or-be-killed scenario, and it seemed the universe agreed as a new quest notification flashed across my inner vision.
New Quest: Kill Jongshoi and survive the Blooding.
Book 1: A Test of Iron [Part 1] Our enemies are the whetstone upon which we hone our bodies and minds. Ever striving to reach perfection, until all that is left is only that which is required. - The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus circa 520 AC. Repeating the mantra that this was just a game, I was able to suppress a blossoming panic that had taken root in my mind. Unlike the previous contestants, through some stroke of luck or the devil¡¯s meddling, I knew who I was facing. And with my character sheet, I was aware of my own abilities. I wouldn''t have to waste Mana on an initial Identify. I sped towards the center of the arena, eager to obtain the instrument of death that awaited me. With every step, my determination to complete my personal quest grew stronger. As I rushed, I stumbled slightly and grabbed a short infantry-stabbing spear. The polearm had a shaft length of just under a meter, with a long and wide-bladed leaf-shaped metal spearhead. Whether it was my expertise in polearms or simply the need to feel secure with a weapon in hand, the spear was a reassuring and solid weight. Jongshoi lacked the grace and calm confidence of the other warriors whom I witnessed bloodying themselves in the arena. He looked skittish, like an animal about to bolt. He made his way to the center cautiously, where I waited, now trying to exude an aura of calm, like an animal approaching a dangerous watering hole for the first time. However, he was no lion, no roaring warrior thirsting to prove himself by wetting his blade on the blood of his victims. The fear of violence could be seen in his eyes, and in another world, I would have held no ill will towards him. But I was here, and he was merely a steppingstone for me to reach greater heights of power. And with power came freedom. The unblooded would-be warrior was garbed in armor of heavy scale and plate. His hauberk bore circular scales, akin to those of monstrous fish, buffed to a shine that mirrored the high afternoon sun. Interlocking plated steel pieces draped over his shoulders and arms, and metal gauntlets with round steel nubs encased his knuckles. Thick iron leggings and greaves covered his legs, and an intimidating plumed open-faced helm that depicted a roaring lion completed his armored ensemble. A spiked oval shield, reminiscent of the scutum, rested upon his left arm, while on his right, he brandished a small straight-stabbing sword reminiscent of the Roman gladius. But despite all of his formidable equipment, the young boy looked out of place, like a rabbit that had grown horns and fangs. For he looked untested in battle, and the weight of his armor and weaponry seemed to burden him more than lend him strength. Jongshoi was already breathing heavily, each exhale a ragged spurt in the hot sun, no doubt in part because he was suffering from some equipment penalties due to wearing such heavy armor. I, on the other hand, was only equipped with my initial robes and could move much more freely. A glimmer of a battle plan began to form, and I decided that I would need to wear him out before striking hard and fast. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. He came at me first with a tired, hesitant probing thrust that I was easily able to step away from. I returned with my own weak thrust to his center, aiming to preserve my stamina. He blocked it easily with his shield, turning aside my blow, and then returned with another thrust of his short sword which I was able to avoid thanks to my greater reach. Since I was unarmored, I had to be careful, but he, on the other hand, looked like he could certainly take a hit or two. Piercing the boy''s defenses was proving almost impossible. On the other hand, he simply could not land a blow on me as I darted backward after one of my own failed attacks. Then something changed. After deftly deflecting one of my rapid jabs, Jongshoi let out a desperate cry, "Shield Bash!" before lunging forward with his shield, breaking through my feeble guard. The spike of the ''scutum'' tore a bloody gash across my left arm, and to my surprise, I felt my health drop by five points. Worst of all, I was left feeling stunned and disoriented, my world spinning as I struggled to gather myself. My enemy moved into his follow-up, a little awkwardly but nonetheless still deadly. With a panicked fury, he struck at me, raising his sword arm, and screamed ¡°Power Strike!¡± Barely able to shake off my fugue, I raised the haft of my spear just in time to meet his down coming blade. Strong, sharp steel met the wooden haft of my spear, causing a sharp crack and sending splinters flying from the point of impact as his attack savagely bisected my weapon. His skill-enhanced blow continued its deadly arc, tracing a red line across my chest. A sharp pain blossomed within me, and my health dropped by another thirteen points as I stumbled backward." Jongshoi was now breathing heavily, barely able to stand on his feet, his sword arm faltering and he appeared almost totally spent. Blood was running from his nose and mouth as he had pushed his body well beyond its physical limits. I knew that feeling well. With the remains of my weapon in a death grip, I grinned savagely, knowing that his desperate gambit had failed. He had likely depleted all of his Stamina with his continuous use of skills, while I still had a healthy amount remaining. And I had magic. I needed to keep the pressure on. Through the red haze of pain, I continued to throw jabs and light slashes with my half-spear and broken spear haft. My adversary was barely able to defend himself. To add to his troubles, his exhaustion was even probably draining away at his Health. Using the Silent Casting, I cast the Heal spell and felt the energy spread through my body like the warm touch of a lover. Surprisingly, my Health increased by seven points, and I absently concluded somewhere in the back of my mind that my spell must heal a proportional amount of damage instead of just a set amount. My opponent''s eyes widened in surprise as he saw me stand a bit taller, the bleeding now stemmed by magic, my weapons sure in my hands. The crowd grew bestial and wild, shouting epithets at both my opponent and me. In my own desperate bid for survival, I charged him, as the crowds above us gasped in surprise that I still yet lived. Raising my broken spear haft like a club, I started raining blows on his weakly raised shield. I threw a jab with my left weapon, which he met with a weak parry of his sword before I began to initiate one of my skills silently. In my mind, I called forth the Power Strike skill, the energy of its release like an arrow from a war bow. My blow skidded across his hauberk, ripping out a few scales, and went upwards and savagely cut across his face. His youthful innocent features were now made into a vision of horrible deformity. He screamed, crying out in utter animal pain, as he dropped his sword and reached for his face. Book 1: A Test of Iron [Part 2] My own breathing was starting to come heavy and ragged, and I knew I had to press my advantage and finish this quickly. Tossing aside the broken spear haft, I bull-rushed him clumsily to the ground. His face was a gory mess; he tried reaching for a sword that was no longer there before blindly trying to punch me with his plated gauntlets. His blows scarcely registered across my trunk as we were simply too close, and he was barely able to cause a single point of damage to me despite his superior strength. Nevertheless, his blows still caused me pain, which kept my blood hot and angry. Grappling him with my right, I raised my half-spear in my left like a knife over the remains of his face and used another Power Strike. The spearhead hammered down, punching through teeth and bone in an explosion of crimson. Suddenly, my opponent was still, his blood staining the pearl sands like vermilion ink on fresh snow, and a great hush fell across the arena. I recovered my half-spear from Jongshoi''s mangled face, and it came out with a sickening sound, the spearhead covered in blood and pink viscera. Just as I did so, a long list of notifications flashed across my mind. It was my reward for committing a hot murder.
You have slain Jongshoi Aigiam 100 experience gained. You have gained 1 Strength. You have gained 1 Dexterity. You have gained 1 Constitution. You have gained 1 Wisdom. You have gained 1 Intelligence. You have gained 1 Luck. You have learned Dual Wield (lvl.1) You have learned Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.1) You have learned Power Strike (lvl.2) You have learned Endure (lvl.2) You have learned Dodge (lvl.2) You have learned Polearms (lvl.2)
Quest Complete: Kill Jongshoi and Survive the Blooding
200 experience gained. You have reached level 5. 6 unassigned attribute points. 2 unassigned skill points.
As soon as the countdown began, I assigned all of my points to Constitution. Unarmored as I was, I needed to be able to take a hit, and an increased Constitution also granted me greater stamina, which in turn allowed me to train my other physical attributes. As for my skill points, I needed to focus on the spell that seemed to be my main advantage and put both points into Heal. Some people prefer to play their characters as a jack-of-all-trades, and the temptation was certainly there, but with pain and potential death as my constant companions, my focus was on survival. I quickly checked the changes to my character sheet, confirming them with an exhausted nod. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
STATUS
Calling: Gilgamesh Level 5 Acolyte of Avaria Strength: 13 Dexterity: 12 Constitution: 25 Intelligence: 16 Wisdom: 12 Charisma: 8 Luck: 12
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1) Power Strike (lvl.2) Endure (lvl.2) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.1) Backstab (lvl.1) Dodge (lvl.2) Polearms (lvl.2) Dual Wield (lvl.1) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.4) Rust (lvl.1) Identify (lvl.2) Silent Casting (lvl.1)
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.
Experience to next level: 550/743
Health: 24/78 Stamina: 6/37 Mana: 5/11
Through all of this, an explosion of hushed silence filled the arena, as if a profane and blasphemous word had been uttered in a sacred temple. Somewhere up in the stands, I turned to my left to hear the wailing of a woman, her grief smashing the fragile silence with its anguish. So piercing was her lament that my eyes were drawn to her, a slender form with gold circlets woven throughout her hair, a counterpoint to the raven darkness. Even at this distance, I could see that her features were wracked with overwhelming sorrow. The official who presided over the event was still like a statue frozen in bronze, his face through his plumed open helm a picture of shock written in bold type. All around me, I surveyed the crowd and found in my questing gaze a group of robed women, rattling bone effigies about them like mantles. There amongst them stood Navigator Olai, who stared at me with her sharp gaze, a cold black midnight ocean of daggers. The men came for me then, sure in their stride, my fate now written in the characters that spelled slave. Bare muscular chests glistened bronze in the afternoon light as they held long man-catcher poles and cruel barbed nets. I offered no resistance, as I had already played my part. As it was in my old world, the powerless were, even in victory, never truly winners. They led me away, but before I was swallowed up, I noticed that one of Bogurchu¡¯s men, the pockmarked man who had tried to lay hands on me, was staring at me with hate-filled eyes and trembling in powerless rage. Book 1: The Characters of a Slave [Part 1] They were met on the beaches by envoys of the unknown mage-king under the banner of peace. Their decapitated heads were sent back wrapped in spider silk and sweet-scented with Aeyory blossoms, a traditional declaration of total war in the east. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. It stank with the general effluence of the city and the newly enslaved and packed humanity. It was grief in all its stages. Some were choleric with rage, defiance a bright torch in their hearts. Others were catatonic with shock or grief, some wailing and crying a river of tears. Yet, a rare few had accepted with serenity their new station in life. This was to be the beginning of my new life as a slave. Naked, we were prodded, pulled, and scrutinized by rough men and women with licentious hands. Our teeth were closely examined for decay, and our bodies for disease. Those of us still holding on to our previous lives were taught otherwise with the crack of a three-pronged leather whip. All my life, slavery had been mostly just an academic subject. Its most blatant manifestations were buried in the past, and though it persisted in some corners of the globe, slavery bore no relevance to my privileged existence in the West. Yet, in this place, I was receiving an education of a different sort. One that left scars on my body and imprinted lessons that no mere historical class or award-winning documentary could ever aspire to impart. Two days had passed since my triumph in the arena when I was brought to this pit of human suffering. I overheard some gossip about my fate as I was being led. Some of my captors had wagered that, against all tradition, I would be poisoned or have a subtle knife plunged between my ribs. Others thought I was destined to be broken in the mines. I was determined not to break. The fire of defiance smoldered like an ember within me, although it was almost extinguished when I heard another man''s screams as burning hot orange metal met his pliant skin, melting a red hot mark in the shape of a flowing wave. Nevertheless, I clung to a strange blend of rage and hope as I received a new mission. As I read the words, I felt like I was witnessing a divine revelation, and I knew that the gods had not yet abandoned me.
New Quest: Escape from the Slavery Pits of Ansan. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.
I would not be a slave to mere NPCs. Non-player characters, the designated name for the myriad of entities that gave flesh to the world of the games I had played in the old world. A simple binary series of ones and zeroes. Here, I clung to this shallow defiance, using it to fuel my anger at the current injustice of my situation. Narcissistic fantasies crossed my mind as to what I would do when I escaped and wreaked vengeance on these slavers, only for them to retreat whimpering to the back of my mind with each crack of the whip. Still, I managed to hold on to the notion. In the old world, I was free, and I would be so again. The comeliest of the men and women were lined up the right, slave brands to be replaced with a tattooist''s art. They were fated to be the concubines or playthings for these cruel people. With fire or ink, we were however all still slaves. I stared at the man who branded me without the defiance that would have invited a lashing, nor did I react to the searing touch of the hot metal with the animalistic pain that had reduced so many before me to sobbing wrecks. Instead, I felt total apathy, as if this were just a routine procedure that was, at most, a mild annoyance. My skill Pain Nullification allowed me to experience this small mercy and I had made sure to be at full Health before the branding took place, using precious Mana to do so before fear could overtake me. They shouted at each other, trying to confirm whether someone in their mercy had administered drugs to numb my pain. I had shown no expression, which had visibly unnerved them. The man with a puzzled expression on his face yelled at me to keep moving. Another person applied a foul-smelling green paste to my newly opened wound, making me feel as though I was both being stung and salved at the same time. After that, we were ushered to another open-air enclosure by the cruel slavers'' barking commands. Then and there, we were made to strip and don new clothes consisting of simple coarse-weave linen tunics, short baggy trousers, and leather sandals with hobnailed soles. The more violent and rebellious slaves were separated from us and grouped on the left. The wooden-fenced pen was surrounded by dark-bearded guards who were silent, stern, and clad in dirty chainmail and leather armor. They carried a variety of blunt instruments, ranging from cudgels to wicked-looking maces and flails. One of the guards, a particularly brutish specimen, stood nearly two meters tall and wielded a giant pole flail studded with deadly iron. He occasionally made jokes with his peers about how long it would take to break the weaker-looking slaves or how he would enjoy shattering bones with his weapon, which he affectionately called "Wife-Beater." Book 1: The Characters of a Slave [Part 2] After we were all herded into the pen, which had a hard-packed earth floor from the passage of hundreds of feet, we were forced to form lines and columns. Many of us held an arm to our fresh brand, whimpering in pain. Not all of us were fully compliant, and the guards gleefully beat the troublemakers into submission. Extra licks of the whip were thrown in for good measure, leaving a few new slaves bloodied and bruised. Suddenly, the guards snapped to attention as a corpulent man entered the holding area. He wore a light red turban trimmed with fur, with a red ruby at its center, and clothes cut from the finest silk. His round girth was emphasized by a sash of vermillion red that strained to contain his prodigious bulk. Two sparkling, jovial eyes were set in his face, orbs of icy blue against a backdrop of olive-brown skin. His mouth lit up in a satisfied smile as he surveyed the assembled, newly minted slaves. He spoke to us then in a voice filled with genuine joy, as if he had just enjoyed a particularly satisfying bowel movement, which was so incongruous to our suffering and pain. ¡°Greetings, friends, one and all. My name is Hassan. Welcome to the first days of joining the family of the Children. Life aboard will be harsh but fair. All must play their part on the great waves. There is no place for lazy deck children on this vessel. By low or high tide, work, and you will be fed. But understand that laziness will be met with the kiss of the whip. Know well then that either will give us great satisfaction!¡± The fat man guffawed as his jeweled fingers sparkled and danced in time to the heavy heaves of his laughter. The guards dutifully laughed along with him, for they had played this part many times before. Initially, I was puzzled at their use of a mariner-like lexicon before remembering that their whole culture was based on a sea-faring people now trapped inland by world-shattering events. I brushed aside these mistaken thoughts and focused all of my attention back on the portly yet jovial man. ¡°¡­Work well and live content,¡± he ended, my attention having wandered for part of his speech. After Hassan¡¯s introduction, we were manacled and chained together, before being frog marched out of the pen. Now that I had some time to gather my wits from the pain and mental exhaustion, I recognized where we were. Across from me, to what I presumed to be the east, a breathtaking vista of golds and reds painted a riot of color across huge gigantic trees. I stopped in my tracks to drink in some of the natural beauty, only to be pulled along once again by the cutting cruel chains around my ankles which cut through my reprieve. We began our descent down a wide dirt track that wound ever downward, cutting through hard alabaster stone. Eventually, we passed a guarded checkpoint, where guards lounged about their posts, only to be playfully shouted at and brought to attention by our escort. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. As our large group of slaves made our way through, the sounds of metalworking and industry grew ever louder. The clang of hammers striking metal, the roar of coal-fired furnaces, interspersed with the occasional crack of the whip and a painful scream. The smell came next, an acrid scent that crept up on the nostrils before finally overwhelming them. They led us to a pile of tools, and in front of us were pickaxes, shovels, and other miscellaneous mining equipment. The guards then removed the manacles from our wrists before gesturing for us to quickly pick up a tool. As I bent to take up a crude mining pick, I heard a sudden war cry rise above the sounds of the mine. A blonde, bearded animal of a man, with hair grown long in wild dreadlocks, screamed in fury as he brandished a pickaxe, attempting to strike down the closest guard. He was hindered by chains still attached to the other slaves, dragging them along with him. A guard nonchalantly, with ease born of many years of practice, clubbed him across the back of the head with a blackjack. He fell to the ground like a great sack of meat. The flames of rebellion were instantly smothered and cast a pall over the rest of the slaves, stifling any thoughts of further defiance. The blonde man was unchained from his line and roughly carted off somewhere by the guards. Our group was now thoroughly cowed, with some of us beaten and all of us still suffering from our recent branding. An individual approached us then, reedy-thin and stooped like a wading bird. He lacked the musculature and solidity of his peers but exuded a strong bureaucratic aura. Carrying a tablet and stylus, he directed our group with a pointed and oddly shrill voice, through his thin lips, to the mine shaft cut deep into the rock to our left. The noise from the industry around the mines was oppressively loud, and I could not hear his exact words, but our guards nodded to his authority. My mana had since recovered from the Winnowing, and I decided to silently cast an Identify spell on him.
Degei Ganbataar - Slave Overseer (Human lvl.8)
Health: 72/72 Stamina: 27/27 Mana: 12 / 12
Interesting, I thought to myself. The Overseer, despite being three levels higher than myself, seemed to be weaker overall, except for a little bit more Mana. I deduced that he must be a wily individual to have risen to his current authority. I muttered an inner curse to myself for not taking the opportunity to Identify Hassan as another point of reference. As we continued to pass by the Overseer on our way to the open mineshaft, my column was forced to a halt as Degei raised an arm, checking his tablet. The slave behind me was trembling, panicked vibrations traveling along the length of the chain that connected us like a cruel Morse code. The Overseer moved closer to me, his black eyes cruel and inquisitive, before checking something on his tablet and making some notes. ¡°No trouble from you, slave. Work, and if the gods are kind, you may live to see the end of the year,¡± he said coolly with no emotion, before turning abruptly and moving off. He waved the line to continue absentmindedly, and I was jostled forward. A few of the slaves in front of me threw me wary, inquisitive glances before moving forward, pulled inexorably by the others in front. Book 1: The Master Dwarf Of all the other races I find the dwarves closest to us the race of true men. Though slightly longer lived they are not as eternal as the elves, yet for all of that, they have always seemed to me to be more solid, more grounded in the now. What truly brings us close is our love for the fruit of the deep ground, the sparkle of gems, and the lure of gold. It is through mutual greed that we find common parlance. - Attributed to Duchess Jessalyn the Unifier of the Lost Duchy circa 240 AC. I gripped my mining pick tightly in my hands, finding comfort in its solid weight. Attacking the guards at this moment would be foolish; I needed more information before making a move. With a firmer grip on the handle, I trudged forward, vowing to someday be free. As we descended further down the gaping maw of the mineshaft, the air grew cooler. Wooden support beams held up the shaft at regular ten-meter intervals, and the echoes of our footsteps and clanking chains reverberated down the passage. A dull, blue light emitted from the ceiling of the shaft, an opal-colored gem pulsing softly. My curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to cast Identify on it.
Zajasite Lightstone
Durability 187/240
Despite the drain on my mana, I noticed that I didn''t feel as debilitated and sluggish as the last time I had pushed myself magically. With my curiosity momentarily sated, I observed that none of the other slaves even cast a glance upwards in its direction as we passed. A Zajasite Lightstone must be something common in this world, I concluded with a mental shrug. After another ten minutes of descent, I could hear the sound of mining picks striking stone, mixed with voices exhorting slaves to greater effort. We reached a fork in the mine system, and the guards separated us again, my group funneling down the right-hand passage. As we continued down the right fork, I began to hear the clinking sound of metal hitting rock echoing up the shaft. Suddenly, there was a small tremor, and fine rock dust fell from the ceiling. A light pattering of soft alabaster snow dusted the slaves in front of me as the whole line paused. After the tremors stopped, we continued further down, urged on by a cracking whip. A sudden feeling of claustrophobia overwhelmed me, but I forcefully pushed the feeling back down through sheer mental will. The clinking sounds grew louder as we passed mining slaves on either side of the shaft. They chipped away at the soft white rock under the watchful eye of another group of guards. Their mining tools rose and fell in a steady cadence. Some of the older slaves shoveled what looked like raw, rough metal ore into large wicker baskets. Once the baskets were full, they were hoisted onto the slaves'' backs with straps around their shoulders like primitive backpacks. A man spoke to the slaves, calling an end to their shift. His features were difficult to discern in the soft blue light, but I recognized him as a preferred slave or foreman, unshackled except for an iron collar with gold trim around his neck. Three-quarters of the slaves grabbed the wicker baskets full of heavy ore and made their way back up the way we came. The man with the special iron collar barked out orders for the remaining workers to instruct us in our duties and confirmed that they understood with a stern questioning look. One of the slaves was a little slow in his reply, and the whip cracked out close to him, more for intimidation than inflicting pain. Those who remained came over to us then. One of them, a burly man who was shorter than me, demonstrated how to use a pick. He grabbed it with hands wide apart, rolled it across his shoulders, and then brought his hands together as he struck the white rock. I watched closely as he worked, and noticed that he was very wide but there wasn''t an inch of fat about his impressive physique. A long braided beard of indeterminate color fell down to near his waist, tied at the end with what looked like a small disc of metal that followed the movements of his body. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Now do,¡± my new mentor said slowly, as if instructing a child in the rough guttural language of the Children, gesturing for me to follow his actions. I gripped my tool as he did, and brought it down against the rock, cutting deep. The burly man grunted in confirmation, and we worked together, striking almost in rhythm with one another. As we toiled away, I felt my stamina gradually depleting, but I noticed that I wasn''t sweating as much as I used to when I had exerted myself to this degree in my previous life. After an hour or two, I lost track of time in the soft blue darkness of the mines. Suddenly, I saw a boy going down the line passing a ladle of water for us to drink. Though the water was stale with a distinct coppery aftertaste, when it was finally my turn, I greedily slurped it up like it was sweet ambrosia. When I had finished, the boy whispered a surprising thank you to me before hurrying down the line to give another worker his fill of the water. The foreman barked in a surprisingly shrill voice that echoed down through the darkness, "Break now! For only two turns of the glass!" he exclaimed before taking a swig from a small hip flask at his waist, drawing stares of envy from the other slaves. I took this as an invitation to sit down on the cool rock floor, laying my tool by my side. My hands were chafing from the strenuous activity, but my stamina had recovered a little. Looking at the dwarf who had now worked a double shift, I decided to speak to him. ¡°Would you¡­¡± I drew another shallow breath, ¡°mind telling me your name?¡± I asked nervously in the darkness. ¡°Manners be to introduce yourself before asking for someone¡¯s name,¡± he replied brusquely, eyes pointedly avoiding me before he sighed through gritted teeth. ¡°Though I reckon manners be different in the lands of men. Name¡¯s Durhit Coal of the Beacon Mountains. Your own?¡± He spoke the last with a raised inflection, still refusing to make eye contact with me. ¡®The lands of men?¡¯ I wondered what he meant by that. His comment caught me a little off guard before I forced myself to think about his question. My subconscious mind was almost able to grasp my old name, but then hit a dead end when I focused on it. Grasping at straws, I remembered my moniker in this world. "Gilgamesh of Uruk," I said haltingly, the unfamiliarity of my new name leaving a strange taste on my tongue. ¡°Never heard of an Uruk,¡± he raised a bushy eyebrow in either feigned surprise or suspicion. ¡°Sounds too foreign for my liking, you''re from far away from here little manling? Across the seas perhaps?¡± ¡°Farther than you could ever imagine. Across a sea of stars," I replied, trying my best to sound mysterious and poetic. The dwarf''s face contorted as he tried to make sense of my words, but we were interrupted. "Back to work, dogs!" The words lacked anger, more said out of rote. They were lines repeated so many times they had lost most of their bite. However, the crack of the whip that soon followed did not. We continued our work in silence. My Stamina dropped low, and my arms began to feel like lead weights when I received a notification for my forced efforts.
You have learned Mining (lvl.1) You have gained 1 Strength.
I was not too thrilled about gaining the Mining skill, but an increase in Strength was always welcome. The foreman called for the end of our shift in an almost high soprano, and our group began to gather the ore in wicker baskets before starting our march out of the mines. At the previous fork, we met the other group and formed a long line up the shaft, our footsteps echoing in the soft blue darkness. We continued upwards and finally reached the entrance, the cool night air a small balm for our exhaustion. The sound of the forges and smelters had grown somewhat dimmer than during the day but had not stilled completely. A slave stumbled at the entrance, exhaustion finally taking him, but he was helped along by his fellows. It was a show of blossoming camaraderie from the shared forced labor. My first shift as a slave had been completed. Book 1: New Lodgings The great Arks, living ships of near-indestructible magical witchwood, made excellent time across the water, their massive bulk now pushed and pulled by the gigantic leviathans that made the deep places of the sea their home. Great cheers were raised when the ships made landfall on the western continent. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. Half a day of grueling labor had been an exhausting, yet strangely relaxing experience. There, in the mine, it was just my pick and me waging a never-ending war against the rock. It reminded me of the time when I washed dishes for a summer job. The dirty plates piled high with leftover delectables, more arriving at an increasing pace throughout the night until finally, it was closing time. Muscle memory took over, and the mind was free to think of other things. The pull of the chain from the line snapped me from my reverie of the past, and my hobbled feet almost stumbled as we were led to our next destination. The heavy ore-filled wicker basket¡¯s straps cut painfully into my shoulders as we moved. Passing by a sorting area, we deposited the load as instructed before filing off and continuing our weary march. We arrived at our final destination, a compound surrounded by tall walls of smoothly quarried stone. A single gate led into the place, and we were herded through like tired cattle after a long day of grazing. On our left, as we entered the walled slave pens, flowing water ran across a rough-cut line in the stone floor. It rushed fast like a mountain stream before disappearing into a large metal grate running into the ground. As we passed by, elderly slaves of both sexes stooped and hunched, washing clothes and other miscellaneous items, with their eyes held low as the guards passed. We were corralled into another area and handed over our various tools to some official-looking guards, who counted and recorded them on tablets. Another group of cruel-eyed guards took us to an area with slaves in various states of undress, washing in the cool open air with cupped hands along a shallow stream that flowed into a rusty iron grate. "Wash here. Relieve yourself down by the grate," instructed a guard with a large pole flail, his voice bestial in its implied promise of danger. It appeared that my captors had some idea of the importance of hygiene in efficiently maintaining a slave population. After all, disease could run rampant if basic levels of cleanliness were not observed. Even here, at the bottom rung of society, a pecking order was established. Those who were more belligerent or stronger took a place near the source of the flowing water, while others made do further downstream with the dirtier remnants. With my bladder painfully swollen, I made my way down to the grate to relieve myself. After fulfilling my bodily needs, I moved back upstream to a place with cleaner water. But a huge block of a man shoved me back with a grunt. Tilting my neck upwards, I saw blonde hair hung in loose locks, dripping water. A chiseled jaw and an aquiline nose were set in a face that looked like it was carved from hard stone and cold blue eyes the color of glaciers dared me to try again. "I am the first to wash," he drawled in a low voice, almost like a warning growl from a bear. He raised a fist at me before turning away and going down to the water to bathe, cocky, slow, and sure in his arrogant stride. The sudden threat of violence caused a spike of adrenaline, and my face flushed with anger. I checked my Status, preparing to reply in turn with violence, when a familiar gravelly voice piped behind me, ¡°Don¡¯t mind him, lad. Just wait your turn. We¡¯ll all get there eventually. The guards will beat you twice as hard if they see you fighting here.¡± Turning around, I recognized the wide frame of Durhit, his eyes dull with exhaustion. I was in no shape to enter combat anyway, and the threat of punishment kept me in check for all but a split second. I was about to thank him for his sage advice, but something gnawed at me. A seed of violence that had been born in the arena. Having faced bullies before, I felt it necessary to show at least some form of resistance. It wasn¡¯t just about who got to clean themselves first anymore. If I accepted this treatment, I would be accepting it for the rest of my time here. I¡¯d had enough of it in my old world, I wouldn''t have it here. Absently, I also noticed that my recent gain in Strength had led to a slight increase in my Health and Stamina, and that I had gained a modest amount of experience from toiling in the mines. Would it be enough for what I had in mind? 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Health: 58/80 Stamina: 24/38 Mana: 1/11
I pushed past some of the waiting slaves and found my target washing himself. At first, I only intended to prove that I was not easily cowed. However, his vulnerability as he lowered his face to the water to wash inspired something much darker in me. Although I learned some karate as a teenager at the local sports center for a few summers, I am no expert in martial arts, and I am not usually violent by nature. Nonetheless, my sudden transportation, the constant smorgasbord of pain just to survive, the always present threat of death, and my recently awarded victory at the arena unlocked something I think that all of us possess deep inside. I threw a punch with all my weight and cold-blooded anger as I splashed into the water, aiming for the space just above the nape of his neck. With a closed fist full of rage, I connected with a meaty wallop. By some stroke of luck, the titan of a man fell into the water, stunned. Falling on top of him, I grabbed his head and kept smashing it against the cold, hard stone with my hands. The water began to turn crimson, and the slaves parted away from me like Moses before the Red Sea, fear etched in their stupid bovine eyes. They looked at me as if I were some sort of wild animal. I then got up quietly, walked a little further from the spreading crimson, and washed my face in cleaner waters. After splashing my face a few times, notifications flashed across my inner vision, and I could not help but laugh. It appeared that my karate classes had paid off, and a green belt equated to about level three in terms of skill in this world.
You have slain a Human 240 experience gained. You have learned Backstab (lvl.2) You have learned Unarmed Combat. You have learned Unarmed Combat (lvl.2) You have learned Unarmed Combat (lvl.3) You have learned Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) You have gained 1 Strength. You have gained 1 Dexterity. You have gained 1 Luck. You have reached level 6. 3 unassigned attribute points. 1 unassigned skill point.
Something inside of me probably broke then as I kept laughing at the sheer absurdity of my new reality. This was a world that rewarded violence and death. If this wasn''t a game, then what was it? The notifications confirmed it; I had killed a no-name human NPC and was rewarded for it. The guards came for me then, a new cautious respect in their eyes now, wielding long-poled man catchers and wicked whips. I was mentally exhausted, my pent-up anger and frustration fully spent in my cathartic explosion of violence. Raising my hands in the universal sign of surrender, I accepted my fate. As they closed in, I hurriedly increased only my Strength and my Heal spell. After capturing me, they beat me, expressionless in their discipline. Like good workmen, they went about their task diligently, going over me with the effortless rhythm of a task practiced so many times it had become rote. I was dragged to another cell, raised high up on chains attached to my manacled wrists. With my Health already quite low, I was forced to endure the lash. Many times, I thought the pain was too great, and I felt myself sinking into the blessed refuge of unconsciousness. However, they were experts in their craft and would not allow me to fall into insensibility, splashing me with water or targeting a particularly sensitive nerve with their cruel irons. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of suffering, my throat hoarse from long-running screams, they left me to welter in the dark. As some sort of consolation prize, I was given a new notification, which caused another round of whimpered sobbing.
You have gained 1 Constitution.
Book 1: Discipline & Punishment [Part 1] When the ever-creeping ice drifts further to the south, the inhabitants of the North have come to dread the arrival of what they call the ''Time of Trials''. It is a period marked by an unforgiving cold that drives the fearsome tribes to become more aggressive in their bid to keep their hold on power and resources. The barbarians, with their unrelenting will and superior battle skills, embark on raids against neighboring tribes. When successful, they take their defeated enemies as slaves and sell them into bondage. But when defeat befalls them, they resort to a brutal custom: they sell their own excess children into slavery to make up for their losses. This is a time of hardship and struggle for these people, as they are forced to adapt to the harsh conditions of their environment and the ruthless demands of their own society. But amidst the chaos and violence, there is also a fierce spirit of resilience and determination that has kept them alive for generations. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. A shockingly cold splash hit my bruised and battered body, jolting me from my exhausted slumber. My eyes were heavy, and they refused to open until a sharp slap stung my left cheek. I saw that a large iron collar had been fitted around my neck, and through my partially open eyes, I noticed Degei, the Overseer, looking down his nose at me with disdain. Two tall guards, carrying cudgels, flanked him, adding to his air of authority. With a sigh, the weedy man began to explain my new situation. ¡°You are the most troublesome bilge-rat of an outlander. That Nord you killed was a good worker, and it will reflect poorly on our quotas. Good slaves are hard to replace!¡± Degei exclaimed, punctuating his statement by lightly slapping me, as if disciplining a dog. ¡°Though he was a bit of a troublemaker himself¡­ but I digress. As a survivor of the Winnowing, I knew you would give me a net full of troubles, but right on your first day!¡± he cried, clearly exasperated. The Slave Overseer took my silence as acknowledgment and continued in his educated voice, "This is a witchbound slave collar. If you cause trouble, you will feel pain. If you become lazy, you will feel greater pain. If you try to escape, you will feel agony until our Waveriders collect you. If you cause violence to a free man, you will die." With this, he tilted my head back and forced a red liquid down my throat from a thin glass vial. The taste was somewhere between old socks and rotten cheese, with a surprisingly sweet undertone of cherry. I half-gagged down the foul concoction. My health, which had been hovering around fourteen, rose by twenty points as I felt a different, yet somehow familiar, warmth diffuse through my body. I realized I was being force-fed a healing potion. If this world was a game, it really was the work of a sick creator. Degei raised the rest of the vial to my lips, but I unconsciously moved my face away from it. He slapped me again before explaining, slowly and in a voice as cold and uncaring as a winter day, ¡°These potions are valuable. Spill a single drop, and I will have you beaten within an inch of your life.¡± He pronounced each syllable with the finality of a prophet''s last words. My eyes grew wide in fear, and I forced myself to nod in understanding. The taste was, of course, horrible, and I almost coughed and gagged. However, this time, I welcomed the warmth that straightened my limbs and healed my broken muscles and bones. But it did nothing for my splintered soul. ¡°Good little bilge-rat,¡± he remarked, patting me across the cheek in some form of twisted affection. A smile almost unconsciously formed across my face, such was my reaction to any show of positive emotion in this new world, however distorted. Something was definitely wrong with me, and I fought down the burgeoning feeling of gratitude. The rebellious part of myself, that part which had always hated the skewed system, refused to give in to the seeds of a pernicious, newly forming Stockholm Syndrome. While looking down to avoid meeting his eyes, wishing to hide the glimmer of rebellion they held, I quickly looked over my Status and character sheet.
STATUS
Calling: Gilgamesh Level 6 Acolyte of Avaria This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Strength: 18 Dexterity: 13 Constitution: 26 Intelligence: 16 Wisdom: 12 Charisma: 8 Luck: 13
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1) Power Strike (lvl.2) Endure (lvl.2) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.1) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.2) Polearms (lvl.2) Dual Wield (lvl.1) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) Mining (lvl.1) Unarmed Combat (lvl.3)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) Rust (lvl.1) Identify (lvl.2) Silent Casting (lvl.1)
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.
Experience to next level: 810/991
Health: 54/105 Stamina: 12/41 Mana: 6/11
The healing potions had raised my Health to just over half, though my Stamina was still perilously low, and I could feel tiredness weighing down my limbs. I had the Mana for a healing spell, but something in my gut told me that it would not be wise to cast a healing spell in front of Degei, Silent Casting skill or not. The Overseer checked over my naked form, nodding at the requisite level of violence my torturers had used. His guards flanked him, solid and silent like two stone sentinels. Patting my head like a good broken dog, he turned around and indicated for me to follow as his guards left the cell, both of them giving me looks that promised violence on a whim. I lifted a manacled hand to shield myself from the light of two almost smokeless torches. Degei gave me a satisfied smile, like an owner that had trained a pet to do a new trick, and he pointed off down the way to a group of slaves huddled on the packed earth eating their evening repast. ¡°Go, outlander. Eat your meal. Tomorrow you will be working a double shift, no, triple shift!¡± His eyes lit up with glee before continuing. ¡°Enjoy your new home and be a good boy!¡± Book 1: Discipline & Punishment [Part 2] Still shackled at the hands and hobbled, I slowly made my way to the group of slaves huddled on the packed earth eating their evening meal, my escort following me halfway. With my eyes downcast, the slaves would occasionally steal hesitant glances in my direction before continuing with their meals. However, a small youth held my gaze for longer than the others, his features conflicted with warring emotions before snorting and returning to his meal. Approaching a small trestle table stacked half full of crude chipped earthenware bowls and rough wooden spoons, I saw a cauldron filled with a thick, gruel-like paste being overseen by a world-weary old crone of a woman. The scene before me gave the impression of a witch boiling up a new concoction, but my stomach rumbled, and I found the smell of cooking food inviting. I shuffled forward, grabbed a bowl and spoon, and greeted the old woman. ¡°Good day to you, madam,¡± I said in a neutral, polite voice. However, I was met with a cackle that only solidified my original impression of her. ¡°Not a madam, just little old Adita,¡± she managed to utter between cackles. ¡°You''re the lad they speak of who survived the Winnowing and did that giant Harun in for looking at you funny, they say. Here, give me your bowl if you want some food. Give you a little extra too, for cutting the thread of one of the little masters.¡± I handed her my bowl, a little hesitant, timidly asking, ¡°Why am I even still alive?¡± She grunted, ¡°They can¡¯t kill you, boy. Least, not directly anyways by their own hands. You sure ain¡¯t made any friends though, that young pup was probably someone¡¯s get. Still, you survived the trial on the sands. In their reckoning, you are now a blooded warrior and member of their tribe,¡± she cackled before continuing, ¡°A lifetime in the mine will break you. Seen it too many times before. The masters be a practical lot, you¡¯ll be paying the blood price one way or another,¡± she punctuated her explanation by dolloping two ladles of slop into my bowl, before spitting a huge wad of phlegm into the fire. ¡°Thank you for the food,¡± I humbly replied, the words sticking a little in my throat at the simple display of common human kindness. I went to sit alone in a quiet corner. Sitting cross-legged, I made sure to eat slowly. I had already experienced extreme hunger once before, so I knew the importance of allowing my digestion to adjust to the new food. My mind wandered as I ate, considering the potential bacteria and other biological dangers that just existing in this new world posed. But between my magic, the recent potion, and my relatively high Constitution, I had yet to feel any of the ill effects from this world''s smaller denizens. Before I knew it, and despite trying to eat slowly, I had finished my crude yet filling meal. About a dozen meters away, a thin streamlet flowed across a crack in the rock before running down into a grate, similar to what I had seen when I entered the compound. I bent down to wash my earthenware bowl and wooden spoon with my hands before noticing a slightly familiar face, dark eyes looking intently at me. ¡°Did you really kill Harun?¡± the young boy asked in a voice with quiet childish determination. Blinking a few times at the sudden question, I looked up at him quizzically, surprise etched into the lines of my face. ¡°Harun the Iron? They say you killed him because you''re a murderer. They put the slave mark on you for killing one of your own, a kinslayer. They say you killed him because you think that even here in pens, you''re still a master,¡± the boy continued, speaking like a judge reading out a sentence and already convinced of his own justice. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. So surprised was I by how irresponsibly rumors had twisted the truth, I could offer no solid defense to his accusations. The boy noticed the dawning understanding in my eye and mistook it for acceptance of his words, causing his chin to quiver slightly with repressed emotion as he continued relentlessly. "My name is Gunne, son of Gudlaug, and I will have my vengeance," he said, looking me in the eyes with his fists clenched in anger. An apology that was rising as an automatic reflex reaction was suddenly stymied by his pronouncement of revenge. This whole world had offered enough suffering and pain for three lifetimes, and the only kindness I had received so far was from some sort of cooking witch who hated our masters more than she hated me. What should have been guilt was replaced by anger and scorn. ¡°He died like a sow in heat being plowed by horse,¡± I spat out, making sure to thread disdain through my words. Although somewhat random, the collection of insults felt fitting and inventive in this context. "I am Gilgamesh, and you''ll die as he did, sniveling and crying for the comfort of your mother. You are nothing but an N-P-C." I emphasized each syllable of the last word deliberately and slowly, laced with whatever icy threat I could muster, though I doubted he understood the meaning. Slowly rising, I was glad to notice that his eyes had widened a little in fear. Standing, I looked at him, seeing now nothing but a scared boy who had dared to challenge a killer. He almost fell back then as he turned to run, and some of the other slaves casting a few glances in our direction, whispered among themselves. A seed of darkness had been planted within me then and it felt satisfying to have sown fear rather than to have been subjected to it. It was empowering even to hold power over someone weaker than myself. For a moment, it had washed away the memories of the torment that I had suffered. Looking around at the other slaves, I made sure to hold their eyes just long enough to show strength, but not long enough to provoke a challenge. I returned to finish my chore. Once done, I moved slowly back towards Adita and handed her my now clean utensils, to which she gave me a short nod of appreciation. The others, sensing that there would be no similar entertainment this night, followed suit before slowly drifting off towards a crude flat-roofed building. It resembled a sort of stable for housing a large number of animals. A single wooden entrance and crude shutters were the only decorations on its front facade. Following a herd instinct, I made my way to the tail end of the group and accompanied them inside. It was dark inside with the lack of lighting, but I could still make out crude wooden pallets at certain intervals on a hard-packed earthen floor. Some of the slaves had already claimed their spots, but I hazarded a rough guess that there was at least one free space today. I settled down on a simple crude pallet a little way from the corner. Remembering that I had enough mana for healing, I took the time to cast a Heal silently amid the flatulence, snores, and myriad noises that humans make in a packed space near one another. Grinning to myself, I noticed that the strength of my spell had increased significantly and was now healing me for just over a third of my total health.
Health: 90/105 Stamina: 22/41 Mana: 1/11
This reaffirmed my decision to focus my points instead of trying to be a jack-of-all-trades. While I began to plan for my near future, exhaustion stole upon me, and I fell into a deep and troubled sleep. At least tonight I would hopefully know some measure of peace. Book 1: The Grind [Part 1] Spies from the alliance and divine scrying showed that the mage-king was actually no king at all. In fact, he was seen to be more of a Steward and Servant of the people and was in fact chosen by the majority of them which was a concept that was so alien and foreign to the members of the alliance. The system of government was seen as preposterous for who would ever in their right mind allow the common man to dictate the rules of power above their station? - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. Dark things plagued me in my dreams and stalked me through my own imagination. Sharp things pierce, stab, or bludgeon me while their cruel laughter echoes in my mind. Oily tentacles whisper raspy, sweet promises as they caress my cheek, only to wrap around my neck and suffocate me as they plunge down my throat. I awoke during the night several times, flailing my limbs against invisible assailants before I finally slipped into a deeper slumber. A worker inadvertently banged against my wooden pallet, rousing me from the last vestiges of my unsettled sleep. The slaves moved in silence, akin to well-trained soldiers about to embark on a dawn raid. Glancing out at the open wooden entrance, still dark before the first light of rosy dawn, I saw them arrange themselves into passably neat columns and rows, watched by our overseers. I quickly followed suit, not wanting to draw the ire of our masters or the promised pain of my new collar. As I rose, I noticed a few insect-like creatures with double thoraxes and large mandibles scuttling into safety from the stampede of humanity and disappearing into various holes and corners. They seemed vaguely familiar. Making my way outside I noticed there was at least one positive; despite my disturbed sleep, I had fully regenerated all of my Status points.
Health: 105/105 Stamina: 41/41 Mana: 11/11
Falling into line, our slave drivers exhorted the benefits of hard work and the promise of pain to the lazy among us. However, they lacked the oratory skills and finesse of Hassan, the corpulent fat man who possessed a truly charismatic voice. Although we had been quite literally part of his captive audience, my attention had been drawn to him whenever he spoke. Listening to our slave drivers with only half an ear, I decided to cast Identify on my new collar.
Iron Slave Collar of Obedience
Durability 400/400
Something about the name of my slave collar niggled at my subconscious as we descended into the mine shafts to repeat the drudgery. During the day, while others along my line were rotated out and allowed a reprieve, I was compelled to continue working. I encountered Durhit again during my last shift, but I was so exhausted that I could barely manage a simple grunt in greeting. So determined was I to avoid the promised pain from the collar that I practically assaulted the white rock. Throughout the day, I had carved great chunks from it with my growing Strength. I had made progress, gaining a single point in both Constitution and Strength. Fear had driven me so hard, and so good was my conditioning, that I had lost a few points of health as I had pushed my stamina to the limit from dawn till dusk. Although I did not make any gains in mining, which I did not care much for anyway, I still earned a nominal amount of experience for my level. Taking my evening meal, Adita made sure to stack my bowl full. I sat quietly in a secluded corner. No one looked at me, and I took the time to review my character sheet.
STATUS This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Calling: Gilgamesh Level 6 Acolyte of Avaria Strength: 19 Dexterity: 13 Constitution: 27 Intelligence: 16 Wisdom: 12 Charisma: 8 Luck: 13
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1) Power Strike (lvl.2) Endure (lvl.2) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.1) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.2) Polearms (lvl.2) Dual Wield (lvl.1) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) Mining (lvl.1) Unarmed Combat (lvl.3)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) Rust (lvl.1) Identify (lvl.2) Silent Casting (lvl.1)
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.
Experience to next level: 830/991
Health: 87/109 Stamina: 7/43 Mana: 10/11
Good, I thought to myself. The increases in Health and Stamina were always welcome. Now that I was finally allowed a moment¡¯s respite, my limbs felt like they were made of solid lead. As I watched the slaves go about their evening meal and chat among themselves, I heard a language that sounded similar to the one Navigator Olai first used when she was interviewing me. It was much more musical and lilting, like a sing-song version of a Latin language. I sat back and cast a few Identify spells at the words, increasing my knowledge with every cast. I stopped after the ninth spell, unwilling to push myself to undergo what I had begun to term as ¡®Mana Sickness.¡¯ Through my spells, I gained a very crude understanding of the language and attained some basic knowledge of its grammar structure. Distracted, I briefly touched my Iron Slave Collar of Obedience with a wandering finger and was met with a sharp stab of pain that ran along my spine and through my limbs like wild, unbridled lightning. I almost wretched up my evening meal, but my instinct to survive forced me to keep it down despite my eyes filling with tears. I could see that my Health had fallen by two points, which felt completely disproportionate to the agony I had been inflicted with. The message was clear; I was not to touch the Iron Slave Collar of Obedience. The name of the heavy yoke around my neck, "Iron Slave Collar," stirred something in the depths of my mind. However, like a falling leaf that escapes your grasp the harder you try to catch it, the connection still eluded me. Book 1: The Grind [Part 2] Shaking my head in resignation, I washed my bowl and spoon in the running water. As I took a drink, I spied a familiar sight. The fierce wild man with a collar like my own, looking like some sort of half-tamed animal, was sitting away from me. He was the man from our slave indoctrination, the one who had dared to resist. Blonde dreadlocks hung down across his neck like a lion¡¯s mane. His eyes were like smoldering blue coals filled with icy fire. They locked with mine for a moment before he pointed at the heavy iron collar around his neck. I moved over to him, feeling somehow that we were kindred spirits. The wildman rose and slapped me on the back as I came closer, a mischievous smile on his face. He guffawed as he greeted me, "You are a troublemaker! The yoke does not sit so lightly about your neck, no? I am Kidu, the Raider of the Three Bears clan." He pointed to his left breast and declared in a loud voice, "Like you, I am not a slave," almost as a challenge to the other gathered slaves. Someone in the back jeered, ¡°You have a slave brand just like the rest of us your highness, just with a bit of extra heavy jewelry!¡± Kidu scoffed, ¡°Come let us ignore these sheep. Let us talk like men. How did you come to be in this thrice-cursed hell hole?¡± His inflection growled a bit towards the end. I told him about my encounters with the dark entities of the void and my meeting with Avaria. The overwhelming need to spill the emotions that had bottled up inside me caused me to disregard any inhibitions I may have had. Although I knew on some logical level that it was the wrong choice, logic is merely a servant of emotion. For some reason, I chose not to disclose that I was from another world, instead stating that I had completely lost my memories before arriving at the shrine. Kidu listened attentively, nodding as if he had expected something like this. ¡°You are one of the god-touched. Some in my tribe go into the madness of revelation, limbs shake and they drool like mad dogs, though different to the Berserk. They are honored among our people. Your gift must have been too great, your tribe offered you to Vari, chooser of the slain, in some form of appeasement.¡± He spoke these words in a thoughtful seriousness that was incongruous with his wild appearance. He must have mistaken the look of confusion that crossed my face as sadness for he tried to brighten my mood. ¡°You missed your chance to fight the endless battle in the heavens, my friend! But, I am fortunate to make your acquaintance Gilgamesh of Uruk. Perhaps with a little divine guidance, we may yet make our way out of our troubles, yes?¡± he said more as a statement than a question as he slapped me on the back in encouragement. ¡°Yes, let¡¯s get out of this thrice-cursed hell hole. One way or another,¡± I replied, nodding in agreement. A few slaves nearby shook their heads in pity and sympathy. No doubt we were not the first to make such a vow. ¡°Do you know anything about levels?¡± I asked him as nonchalantly as possible. ¡°Levels?¡± his eyebrows furrowing in thought. ¡°Like how high something is?¡± ¡°No, no, to determine one¡¯s strength. Experience points and such? How do you get more skillful or stronger?¡± I quizzed him, determined to get some answers. ¡°Friend, truly you must be god-touched. I know no such thing of levels, but there are ranks in the armies of men and so forth. Points of experience, I guess as one practices at some things, one will get better at it,¡± he replied earnestly, not truly understanding the line of my questioning. I continued to question him about his past during the brief moments before we were ushered off to sleep. The locals did not understand the ¡®system¡¯ responsible for my growth, but I did manage to gather that they were possibly affected by it. Kidu mentioned that some warriors of his clan seemed to become physically stronger as they proved themselves in battles or successful hunts. He also spoke of older beasts and creatures that grew stronger over time. He told me about monstrous Ice Drakes in the frozen north that became more vicious and malevolent with each passing year, preying on the herds of the tribes until a group of determined hunters or adventurers could take them down. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. I took note that perhaps the NPCs of this world had more organic growth in their strength and development since our conversation highlighted that they had no knowledge of this game world''s ¡®system¡¯. I, on the other hand, could guide my own progress to a certain extent as I leveled up. This would give me a great advantage as I hopefully grew in power. Going through the doors to the slave stables, we chose pallets next to each other for some form of security against the other true slaves. Exhausted, I fell asleep. I awoke sometime in the night, plagued once again by dreams of dark, stalking things. Thinking of Kidu and his fantastical homeland in the frozen north, I was half tempted to see if he was also awake, but was interrupted by the sound of two creatures seeking solace in the night. Finally, their rut finished, and I was once again lulled into the land of dark dreams. The next day was very much like the previous one. The wild man and I, who were obvious troublemakers, were separated into different teams. After a rest, I regained all my Status points, and received a new notification informing me that my concentrated efforts to sleep had increased my Rest level to two. I fell into line and toiled in the light blue gloom of the mines. During my second shift, Durhit worked next to me. As I hacked away at the white stone with my crude mining pickaxe, focused on my work, Durhit paused for a moment and spoke to me quietly, while our whip-carrying minders looked the other way. ¡°I''ve never seen a fellow dwarf¡­ let alone a human like you¡­ hack away at the stone like that¡­ Have you made an enemy of the Earth Mother?¡± Durhit said from behind his bushy beard, his barrel chest straining with each breath. Intrigued by his use of the word ¡®dwarf¡¯ and with plenty of Mana to spare, I decided to cast an Identify spell on him to satisfy my idle curiosity.
Durhit Coal - Sapper (Dwarf lvl.14)
Health: 273/280 Stamina: 42/50 Mana: 11/11
I could see that Durhit had a prodigious amount of health, truly formidable, probably due to his dwarven constitution. Dwarves were always famously hardy in modern fantasy depictions, so it was little surprise to me that this paradigm applied to this world too. Also, the dwarf still had most of his Stamina and had dug out more rock than me. In comparison, I had already burned through more than half of my own stamina as I pounded furiously at the stone. I half-heartedly concluded that his Sapper class explained his more economical strikes against the rock. Striking the alabaster rock, I grunted before answering Durhit, raising my tool above my head. "This is ''grinding,'' sir dwarf. I need to build up my Strength if I am ever to escape." Durhit pretended to understand my response, no doubt thinking I was perhaps a little touched in the head. Come to think of it, an infection caused by the myriad of wounds I had suffered, and my questionable diet may well have caused a riot within my body and addled my mind. I mentally shrugged to myself as I rolled my shoulders. Perhaps this was all just a fever dream? This line of thinking would produce no real answers, so I focused back on my work, striking out against my enemy, the alabaster stone. Mimicking the dwarf, I raised my pickaxe slower and used more of the tool¡¯s weight than my own muscle when striking the rock. Subconsciously, an unspoken bond was formed between us as we toiled under a blue glow. Just as Durhit was relieved of his shift, I was rewarded with a notification.
You have learned Hammers (lvl.1) You have learned Mining (lvl.2) You have gained 1 Strength.
Humming a catchy tune from my own world between strokes to break up the monotony, I continued my assault on the rock. Some of the slaves around me took up the tune before they were silenced by the crack of whips on pliant flesh. The dwarf noticed my smile, however, and just shook his head at my antics as he slung his pickaxe over his shoulder and left. I continued to hum the tune, albeit under my breath, in discreet defiance. Like Kidu, I was not a slave in my heart. Book 1: Talk of the Past [Part 1] Deep within the primal forests, Dragonroot, also known as the Widow''s Mercy, is harvested under the watchful eye of the giant Jaderock bees. These monstrously large bees, according to the observations of the researchers of Quas, require the poison produced by the flowers to crown a new queen among their number. Such is the importance of Dragonroot that alchemists from far and wide seek it out for use in their elixirs and concoctions. Legends even tell of the dragon slayers of old who coated their weapons with a deadly paste made from the root, granting them the power to vanquish their scaly foes. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. When my shifts were finally over, the exhaustion I felt could still not quite dampen my good spirits. I made sure to hide my smile from the guards who looked at me as if I was deranged, and I made sure to smile at each slave who met my eyes too. Some of the poor slaves even hesitantly smiled back. ¡°You look to be in good spirits boy, did something good happen in those godforsaken mines? Maybe you poked about in a different shaft!¡± Adita jibed jovially, laughing at her own crude joke. ¡°No, no, Madam Adita. Nothing of that nature, but I see that this evening¡¯s meal looks as delicious as ever,¡± I replied adroitly, my good spirits lighting my eyes. ¡°Told you I¡¯m not a madam, not one of those high-nobility types, and flattery will get you nowhere!¡± she cackled as she dolloped an extra portion into my bowl. ¡°Old Monta caught himself a little delicious Rockcrab by the Latifundium, threw that in today.¡±
You have gained 1 Charisma.
I smiled knowingly, taking my bowl filled to the brim with the questionable stew. The gain in Charisma was extraneous to my current dire circumstances. My mind was more focused on the fact that the game''s internal logic had translated Adita''s words into the ancient Roman word for slave quarters, an oddity that puzzled me as I began eating my evening meal. Soon, a familiar hulking manacled shape hobbled over. I rose and clasped his arm at the elbow, which he returned in greeting. ¡°Welcome, Kidu the Raider,¡± I grinned up at him, my neck having to tilt upwards to meet his cold blue eyes. ¡°And you, Gilgamesh of Uruk,¡± he chortled, settling his bulk down cross-legged on the hard-packed earth. ¡°I have questions¡­¡± I began hesitantly. "Of course, you do, god-touched. As long as we do not debate Quassian philosophy, I welcome them. Perhaps through answering of them, you will gain some insight into your past," he said sympathetically, his voice colored with compassion as we both sat down. We talked for a while. Kidu confirmed that he had no knowledge of the strange mental script which I dubbed the "UI" or "User Interface," a script that apparently only I could see. He viewed my interpretation of the UI''s messages as some form of communication from the divine. I also learned from Kidu that the language of the Children of the Tides was simply called "Trade" and that the guttural language was almost the lingua franca for this region. He considered my pronunciation of Trade to be above average, indicating that my grasp of the spoken language had clearly improved by leaps and bounds. The singsong language that I had some experience with was called "High Quassian," and was also spoken by the desert people of the south. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. In time, the large man shared his tale with me. I found out that Kidu was from the far frozen north. His tribe was a nomadic people who hunted a massive creature called the Cronir. The Cronir traveled across the tundra in vast herds, like caribou, and were sometimes preyed upon by vicious Ice Drakes. His tribe had lost several skirmishes, and the allocation of hunting rights to rival tribes had further weakened them. The Windspeakers of his tribe, a group of elderly and wise individuals who kept the oral traditions of the Three Bears, advised the chief to send a raiding party to the South. The chief had sent Kidu, who even then had a reputation for being a belligerent troublemaker, along with a few other fractious youths to form a party and travel south as raiders. The leader had planned for them to bring exotic riches from the warm verdant lands back home so that they could trade for favors and hunting rights from other the tribes. However, in a frontier town near the frozen wastes, they had been duped by shady characters in the local drinking den promising them the location of a rich caravan that was scheduled to pass through. Instead of a profitable raid, they were assaulted in the night while in their drunken stupor, stripped of their weapons, and sold into slavery to the said caravan. Due to his fractious and violent nature, Kidu had been sold and traded from master to master many times. Eventually, he had changed hands so many times that he had finally made it to Ansan, the jewel of the grass sea of the Grieving Lands, and a gateway to the Wilds. Spying Durhit with a group of tired-looking men, I called him over. His face at a distance looked like he had just swallowed a sour plum as he made his way to us. Suspicion warred with a need to make a connection across his bearded face. In the end, despite initial reluctance, the need to find some form of solace won. ¡°Be a little quieter, manling. The guards here are sensitive to those with loud tongues,¡± grumbled the dwarf. I held my hands up in mock acquiescence, still grinning. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a human, plenty of dwarves, but never a human so happy pounding away at rock. I swear he is a little queer in the head,¡± he grumbled again. "Then you have probably never heard of the gold rush," I replied. The dwarf''s eyes almost comically widened at my mention of gold. "Men would cross oceans, plains, and deserts in their search for gold," I tried to intone as wisely as possible. "Aye, that is well-known, that man''s greed for gold can rival even a dwarven Deeptaker''s," Durhit nodded sagely into his bowl, his long beard almost brushing into the stew. "I know you are god-touched, but at times you sound like my tribe''s Windspeakers, Gilgamesh of Uruk. Are you a scholar?" interjected the wild man, his voice surprisingly serious in its earnestness. A bittersweet smile formed on my face, shaking my head as the lie found its way to my lips, "No, Kidu of the Three Bears, though I have heard a few things here and there." Already treading on dangerous ground with my mention of the California gold rush, I grew wary that continuing this line of conversation would lead me to share more about my origins. "Your tribe will enjoy many good years with their offering, to give not only a god-touched but also a man wiser than his years to the Chooser of the Slain," he nodded, accepting my lie completely. ¡°How about you, mysterious manling, what brought you here to the great Ansan?¡± the dwarf inquired, bushy eyebrows raising a fraction in interest. Thankfully, Kidu interjected, eager to tell my story to the dwarf, with just a little bit of joy in the telling. He embellished little, except for my fight in the arena. According to the savage-looking man, instead of killing a green and untested youth, I had slain a scarred seasoned warrior, his blade pitted with the clash of many battles. ¡°...And what brings a stone-eater so far from your mountain halls?¡± the wildman finished with a question. Book 1: Talk of the Past [Part 2] The dwarf''s face scrunched in irritation before looking down, troubled, as if trying to retrieve the memory from the ground itself. In time, he too told his tale, "A bunch of lads and I signed as mercenaries for the manling Lord Hayles against one of his neighbors, Lord Farilse. Something about an exorbitant port tax that one of Haylebury''s ships refused to pay for. This led to City Lord Farilse seizing his vessel, the Pride of Iron, that was berthed in his port." Something ticked at the back of my mind with the ship''s name, but I quickly turned my attention back to the dwarf''s tale. ¡°The port of Seaguard had strong high walls and even stronger coastal defenses, and little Lord Hayles decided he needed a bit of dwarven ingenuity to do something about the defenses. A messy affair if there ever was one¡­" He spat on the ground before continuing. "Good rights to pillage and steady coin are a siren song to any good dwarf worth his ore, and we marched under Haylebury''s banner with the baggage train. But Farilse was a cunning one, and he hired mercenaries of his own. Hateful pointy-eared scum, Dark Elves, quiet like shadows, fell upon the baggage train near, gutting the sentries and picket lines with not so much as a sound. ¡°My own mate, Kabruk, was taken down right before my eyes, one of their cursed black blades across his throat as he tried to raise the alarm. I gave as good a reckoning as any of the Stoneborn, and I perhaps got a few of them with my trusty hammer. Like hitting leaves and twigs, those Dark Elves are. They faded away like morning mist just as the first light hit, and the damage they had done was great. They had hit our baggage train and killed our Girabis, poor blundering beasts, and just like that, our whole venture was hamstrung. A curse of ash and ruin on the sharp ears!" Durhit continued, ¡°The blackguard Farilse never faced us in open battle after that. He hit us again and again and finally forced Hayles¡¯ surrender.¡± The dwarf paused for a moment, as if the memory caused him bittersweet pain. ¡°My sister Evenes could only afford the ransom for her man, Nolat. I don¡¯t blame her in truth, as it was more my idea to go about on that slag heap of an adventure. She promised that once she and Nolat started work on the new claim they had, they¡¯d find a way to pay my bond price. But with no way to pay my immediate ransom, Farilse sold us to a passing slaver caravan. Those vultures are always about the edges of war, like flies to a fresh corpse. Now, here I am in Ansan, mining iron ore for manlings to make weapons to wage war upon one another.¡± Something must have struck a chord with the wildman as he silently patted the dwarf on the shoulder in compassion only to be brushed off brusquely. I, too, fell silent, though for another reason. Something the dwarf said set off something in my mind, like suddenly remembering an important memory.¡± Then I found it, the spell Rust. Like a slippery eel, it had always wriggled its way from my attention. Circumstances had meant I never had any leeway to experiment with its use. Determined now, I called out to it and was met by resistance. Black slithering things crossed the edges of my vision and cold sibilant whispers caressed my ears, making me shiver as electricity traveled down the nape of my neck. A sense of wrongness so profound and utterly inimical to all things filled me. Wanting to release this dark energy as soon as possible, I eyed a random slave engaged in evening conversation in the corner of my eye. Focusing my target, I surreptitiously cast the spell at his manacled feet. Black lines of power left me then, seemingly invisible to everyone else, wrapping around the chains like velvet lightning as he continued talking. The whispers slowly left me, the feeling of wrongness lessening, but I could still see the dark lightning working its way around my target¡¯s iron chains. Gradually now, the lightning danced around the metal, slowly and steadily like a funeral procession. Where it touched, a few dots of orange and red could be seen as the metal was oxidized at an accelerated rate. The spell had only cost me a single point of Mana. I made every effort to hide the grin on my face as I looked back at my companions, questioning looks on their faces as I suddenly rose to my feet. I had found the key to my chains. Explaining to them that I thought I saw the ghost of a familiar face, they nodded sympathetically at my false hope. Bitterly, Durhit shared that he had often done a similar thing when new dwarves were welcomed to the mines. We talked about small things of little importance, and I learned more of the common knowledge of this world. The name of the world I found myself in was called many things by its innumerable people. But here in this area, known colloquially as the ''Grieving Lands'' due to the sudden, tumultuous storms that were endemic to the region in the later months of the year, the locals called the world ''Gesthe.'' This meant ''Garden'' in the language of the First People, as the Elves liked to call themselves. The Grieving Lands were but a small part of an enormous world that was broken up into massive continents, which according to Durhit were the bones of land dragons. We talked also of strange and fanciful places. Durhit spoke of his home, the "Beacon Mountains," an active volcanic range. The fiery chasms would frequently erupt with flame and ash, the dwarf recounted with a grin. I couldn''t help but ponder what kind of people would willingly inhabit such a perilous environment. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Somewhere in the conversation, there was talk of a place to the far west called the ¡®Glass Fire Sea.¡¯ Here sailors feared to navigate its treacherous waters as great crystalline glass formations floated on its becalmed surface, burning any ship to blackened husk that got too close. Despite the danger, some savvy or desperate captains were willing to take the risk, venturing forth under the cloak of moonless nights to collect precious fragments of the glass. Such treasures were highly sought after by the great universities of Quas, willing to pay a high price for the rare and valuable material. The flames of adventure were lit once more in my heart, and I could feel a desperate need to be free taking deeper root there. However, before too long, we were herded back into the slave stables. Before going to sleep, I sat up and cast Rust silently, picturing iron manacles, and released the energy in random directions in the room. The black lightning from my spell was invisible, even to me in the darkness. I knew the spell was being cast as I could see my Mana drop in steady increments, and on the ninth cast, I was rewarded with a notification.
You have gained 1 Intelligence.
Lying back down on my cot, I perused my character Status. Like the other day, I had gained some nominal experience from mining. But more importantly, I now had the tools to make a bid for freedom. I needed the patience to see my growing plans through, and it felt like my chains chafed more than usual now that a path to liberty could be seen. I yearned to feel and experience the best this fantasy world had to offer, and not just be a slave to destiny.
STATUS
Calling: Gilgamesh Level 6 Acolyte of Avaria Strength: 20 Dexterity: 13 Constitution: 27 Intelligence: 17 Wisdom: 12 Charisma: 9 Luck: 13
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1) Power Strike (lvl.2) Endure (lvl.2) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.2) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.2) Polearms (lvl.2) Dual Wield (lvl.1) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) Mining (lvl.2) Unarmed Combat (lvl.3) Hammers (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) Rust (lvl.1) Identify (lvl.2) Silent Casting (lvl.1)
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.
Experience to next level: 850/991
Health: 92/111 Stamina: 13/43 Mana: 1/11
Book 1: A Time to Heal But the spies and scouts of the unknown kingdom had not been idle, and they discovered horrifying facts that only hardened the resolve of the people to resist. Many of those who were brought across the ocean were in fact slaves. Men and women who had pulled at the great oars, who had cleaned and scrubbed the decks, tended the fires, and cooked the meals that fed the armies and a thousand more labors were chattel with the hateful mark of slavery inscribed upon their bodies. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. I found myself being awoken the next morning by Durhit, concern etched across his features as he shook me roughly. I cleared the sleepy cobwebs from my mind as I rose to my daily grind. All of my Status points had regenerated as expected. Looking around, I was pleased to note that the manacles on some of the slaves were covered in rust spots. Slow and steady wins the race, I thought to myself. Once I had gathered myself, I fell into line and received the daily speech from the Overseer before we filed out to the mines. However, I was suddenly accosted by Degei, and our whole line was forced to stop because of me. "How can you be in such good spirits this morning, you bilge-rat? Triple shifts over a few days would test even a stunty stone-eater dwarf! Yet, I have talked to your watchers, and they say you work like a demon-possessed. There is something about you that I don''t like. Know that I am watching you...and lower your eyes, slave!" He shouted the last words as he backhanded me across the face with a wooden cudgel, drawing blood. I was taken more by surprise than actual pain. Since I was at full Health, I felt nothing due to my Pain Nullification skill. The strike had reduced my Health by only eight points, but I lowered my eyes anyways to avoid further antagonizing the cruel man. I remembered to grit my teeth in feigned pain. The Overseer, satisfied now that I looked the part of a thoroughly cowed slave, shrilled with smug superiority, ¡°At least we will get some good labor out of you. Do work your little heart out, bilge-rat.¡± He motioned for the line to move off, and we continued back to our daily grind. I noticed that the guards were now keenly watching me, their hands gripping their weapons just a little tighter, as we passed on our way to the mines. Half in defiance and half out of pure curiosity, I pictured one of the guards we had just passed, now out of my direct line of sight. I cast Rust at him, remembering his pockmarked face and lazy left eye. I felt the buildup of dark energy growing steadily more painful as dark things writhed at the periphery of my vision. But unfortunately, the spell failed. Panicked, I mentally targeted his metal breastplate. My heart was beating in my chest as the familiar sense of wrongness left me upon finishing the cast. Black lightning erupted from my hands, lashing toward the guard behind me, and my Mana was depleted by a single point. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Pausing in relief, I almost tripped over my own sandaled feet as I was suddenly pulled forward by the worker in front of me. I realized that no one could see the visual effects of my Rust spell. Also, it looked to have no effect when cast directly against living creatures, as opposed to objects which contained or were made from iron. In a strange logical way, I supposed that it made sense. Mentally girding my loins, I determined to spend the day as I had the others by working on my Strength and grinding up some experience. My first shift passed without incident. As the workers along my line made their way out of the mine, I made sure to cast Rust a further four times; delaying each cast to measure the maximum distance of the spell. At the fourth cast, as I targeted a slave with a game leg about sixty meters away, I was struck by a familiar painful buildup. The spell had failed to take hold. I quickly released the pent-up magic into the leg manacles of a miner closer to me, who was two places down the line from those who had replaced the first shift. I concluded that the spell, at level one at least, possessed a range between forty and fifty meters at a very rough guess. I kept five points in reserve in case I suffered any ¡®accidents¡¯ while working to cast Heal, with one point as a buffer against Mana Sickness. The day ended with my usual exhaustion, and my Health was in the low seventies. I had pushed my body to the extreme, even using Power Strike once against the rock when our minders were not looking, and with somewhat impressive results. Much to my delight, the wicked blow had carved a great gouge through the rock. Though it burned through my precious Stamina, I did not regret the action as it allowed me to vent a little of my frustrations as I had imagined smashing the pickaxe against Degei''s smug face. At the evening meal, the other slaves still looked at me with fear in their eyes. No doubt, the tales of my encounter with the Nord man-mountain Harun the Iron, and my successful showing at the Winnowing had grown. Still, I was never the most popular person in a group in my old life, so it did not bother me too much. "Better to be feared than to live in fear," I considered to myself, a rather Machiavellian line of thinking. Despite all of this, I did have some companions, if not friends: the dwarf and the wildman. In the manner of those at the bottom rung of a society''s ladder, we had bonded, perhaps subconsciously clinging to a false sense of superiority. The wildman with his unbroken spirit, the dwarf his diligent pride, and as for me, I knew that I had come from a more civilized world. A certain glumness came over me then as I had made no gains in Strength from my time in the mines, though I had still gained a small amount of experience. Kidu and Durhit were not talkative that evening. I ascribed their reticence to the general rigor of a slave''s life. After the evening meal, and just before it was time for sleep, I washed off the dirt and grime from a day''s arduous work as best I could. Before sleeping, I cast Heal on myself, and my knotted muscles relaxed. Small wounds that I had never noticed before healed across my body. A tiny stony fragment, perhaps from my overenthusiastic strikes against the rock, clattered to the earthen ground, pushed out by regenerating flesh. A warm balm washed over me, more soothing than any song, and lulled me to sleep as it took away the aches and pains of the day. Book 1: A Change of Circumstance * The Eastern Alliance vastly underestimated the depths to which a free people would resist an oppressor, and troops of the kingdom now known to be called the Republic of Arastia fought with great zeal and fervor. They knew what fate awaited every single man, woman, and child should they become a conquered people. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. My magic healed my body, but in my vanity, I noticed it did nothing for the marks and scars I was accumulating here and there. The days followed one another in a slow, steady rhythm, with little change for a further three days. Work, eat, work, heal, and sleep were the parts of my monotonous daily routine. However, on the fourth day, I took my morning toilet a little earlier than usual due to waking from a nightmare of being pursued by sharp-bladed dark things. I could just make out a woman of middling years, with a face set with hard lines of grief, making her way to Degei before his regular motivational morning speech. Gold circles were threaded throughout her raven-black hair and tinkled as she walked. I could not help but feel that her features were familiar, but in my morning state, my mind failed to make a connection. A small leather purse was exchanged, and Degei nodded solemnly to the woman, raising the purse a little higher with both hands before stuffing it into the loose folds of his clothes. Subsequently, I was made to work even harder in the mines that day. I now labored four shifts, with only a few hours of rest after my evening meal, before I joined another slave gang to toil away in the dark blue depths. I was being worked to death. My mind, in its own twisted humor, joked that my new schedule gave me little time to have words and socialize with my newfound companions. Despite my circumstance working against me, we were able to hurriedly exchange occasional snippets at brief intervals in the day. I made sure to pace myself, but this new grueling menu of work meant that I had to dedicate five points of Mana every day just to keep my body in working condition. However, thanks to this new forced work plan, I had started to gain rapidly in attribute points and skills. I had gained two points of Strength and another skill point in Hammers. My near-sleepless nights earned me another point in Constitution and raised both my Endure and Rest skills. I had earnestly tried to raise my Rust spell and was rewarded with an increase in Intelligence and Wisdom, as well as finally raising the spell to level two. More importantly, thanks to my labors, I was gaining a modicum of experience. Putting aside my nightmarish conditions, the avid gamer inside of me actually looked forward to the next day and the opportunity to earn even more experience. One small moment of levity that lightened my spirits for a day was a guard being berated by Degei for the state of his equipment. Unbeknownst to him, I had been casting Rust on his gear. He looked genuinely shocked at the state of his armor and weapons as the Overseer gave him a dressing down. I had also secretly cast Rust on Kidu¡¯s collar with some trepidation one evening before my spell had leveled up and gained in power. He showed no ill effect as he lay in his deep slumber, snoring wildly like a bear. I was satisfied to observe that there were a few splotches of rust about the edges of his collar the next day. Through these observations, I concluded that it would be safe to cast Rust on my own collar. Through gritted teeth, I cast it that same evening to no ill effects, save for the usual feeling of wrongness and a very slight warm feeling around my neck where the metal contacted my skin. I had learned to effectively block out the sibilant whispers that seemed to come from just behind me when I cast Rust. This experience, in my mind at least, proved how adaptable humans were. We have the ability to compartmentalize even the most peculiar things. It made me wonder if those who participated in the brutal slave trade business were able to go home at the end of the day with a smile on their face and love in their eyes. Did the same hand that wielded the whip also caress the head of an innocent child? Though mentally exhausted, I was indeed certainly growing stronger. What didn¡¯t kill me could only make me stronger, I muttered to myself, remembering the famous quote from Nietzsche. I needed to make my way out of here and escape. I was reasonably certain that Degei was already trying to kill me indirectly, and at this rate, who knew how much longer I would last? It was only my magic, my prodigious Constitution, and Adita¡¯s sympathy that had allowed me to survive so far under my current horrendous conditions. I knew that Constitution influenced health and overall resilience, but would that extend to resistance against disease? Resistance to the general frailties of the human condition? I was still young, but I wondered¡ªcould near immortality be possible if I pushed the attribute to its extreme? It was certainly a tantalizing line of thinking. However, this was, of course, all predicated on the fact that this world was real¡­ Just as I was mulling these thoughts over, there was a rumble that quaked through the ground. The sounds of clanging industry stopped as the reverberations shook the encampment, and a sense of panic infected the air. The earthquake, for it could be nothing else, rattled the building around me as a stampede of slaves made for the single entrance. Rising quickly on unsteady feet, I hurried to join them in exiting the stables. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Not before long, guards woken from their sleep stormed into the pens with a tired-looking Degei in tow. The guards violently ordered us to form orderly lines, the licks from a club or whip more threatening than the shaking of the earth as we waited for the rumblings to subside. I could hear the ignorant slaves whisper to each other something about land dragons stirring, or the Earth Mother being angry, and other such superstitious nonsense. The locals probably had no idea about the mechanics of tectonic activities and continental drift, I thought to myself in smug superiority. However, a small part of me did wonder, that perhaps maybe, just maybe, it could actually be the work of actual land dragons. ¡°Get back to sleep the lot of you! Work tomorrow! Back! Back I say dogs!'''' Degei ordered, half shouting, his words enforced with the stinging crack of studded leather. I made my way back inside along with the other slaves, our common fear of Degei overriding our dread of the angry earth. That¡¯s how well some of us were broken by fear of the whip. Lying on my pallet, I tried to whisper to Kidu. But the snoring noises from his direction confirmed that he was already asleep. It would be churlish of me to steal him from it. Turning to my right, I whispered to Durhit. I could barely make out his craggy face in the gloom, and he responded with an annoyed grunt. "Best be going to sleep, manling. Tomorrow will be the hardest, darkest day yet, mark my words," he said in an attempt at a quiet voice, before turning on his side and facing away from me, closing off all further avenues of inquiry. Apprehensive and annoyed, I cast Rust impulsively at my collar. I felt the familiar uncomfortable and inimical sensation flow throughout my body, before I released it into the slave collar on my neck. The whispers had become stronger, and the crackle of the black lightning¡¯s pulses felt increasingly like the heartbeat of a living creature now that the spell had increased in level. The collar on my neck grew unbearably hot, sizzling my skin and filling the air with a sickeningly appetizing smell. It skirted the borders of agony, taking a chunk off my Health before it subsided to just merely painfully hot. I grit my teeth at the unexpected sensation, the strength of the reaction taking me completely by surprise. But there, alone in the darkness, I was unwilling to let out a sound and draw attention to myself. I hugged myself pathetically against the pain. And then, I thought I heard something crack or give in the collar, like the sound of an errant foot slowly stepping on an expensive and fragile toy. I could feel a coarse sandy sensation where the metal met my neck. Tentative fingers shook as they reached to confirm the state of my collar, but I stopped them just before they brushed against the slowly cooling surface, remembering the pain from when I had touched it before. My mind scrambled for a solution to my predicament before I remembered an old staple of mine¡ªIdentify. Perhaps in this way, I could at least check the durability of the collar. Guiding my magic to the collar, I made a welcome discovery.
Iron Slave Collar
Durability 294/400
My hands were shaking, hesitant and unsure, as if unwilling to test the truth of a mirage in a desert, but I touched the collar anyway. Nothing happened. Sweet, blessed relief, nothing happened, no pain, no lightning shock. Touching the collar again several times to affirm my discovery, I began to cry silent tears of joy. Even in my heightened emotional state, my mind sought to explain what had happened. The ''Iron Slave Collar of Obedience'' had lost its suffix and was now just a simple ''Iron Slave Collar''. Though I was never particularly gifted in science, my improved Intelligence had helped me attain this sudden realization. The rapid oxidation of my iron collar caused by my improved Rust spell had released a great deal of heat in an exothermic reaction, which had inflicted me with first or second-degree burns. This could be a boon, in that the effects of the level two spell were more rapid and significant. On the other hand, this also meant that it would now be difficult for me to apply the spell against enemies secretly and without their knowledge. I hoped that the dark energies released when I cast the spell remained invisible, and with some chagrin, I noticed that the spell had cost an additional point of Mana. The coarse sandy feeling around the area below my neck was probably oxide or rust that had shaken loose. I hypothesized that the degradation of the collar likely interfered with its delicate mechanics or magical circuitry, or whatever crazy system they used to keep a person in a state of slavery in this magical world. Fearing a potential tetanus infection, despite my relatively high Constitution, I quickly cast Heal on myself. I checked the Status of my character to distract myself as the feeling of my skin knitting over was most uncomfortable. However, the soothing balm soon spread throughout my body and assuaged my concerns. With only four points of Mana remaining, and an unknown amount of time before I would probably be called to an even more grueling day, I decided to rest. Though my talks with Durhit and Kidu had stoked the desire for adventure, my own actions this evening had lit a burning need within that was growing into a blaze. The need to be free. I found it rather laughably ironic that the thing I had so casually taken for granted in my old world was the thing I craved the most here. The universe appeared to have agreed with my actions.
You have gained 1 Wisdom.
Book 1: Dangerous Conditions The people of the New Empire say that the best slaves are those who are born into slavery, they have known nothing else besides the discipline of the whip and the benevolence of a master. These chattels will often work much harder and are one of the pillars of a well-run house. For surely iron and steel may rust but the threat of punishment once learned is until death. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. It seemed like I had just closed my eyes when a cruel steel-capped boot kicked me in the stomach, dealing about six points of damage. One of my minders, a narrow-eyed and spiteful-looking man dressed in a motley collection of rust-speckled chain and leathers, had attempted to wake me before and this was his second kick. Perhaps there was a disadvantage to the Pain Nullification skill after all. To avoid any further harassment, I got to my feet as quickly as my sleep-starved body allowed me. Like a child used to being caned, I followed the group as they made their way out of the building as fast as possible. The distant sound of industry that had pervaded the area around the mines had significantly quietened after the first quake. The disappearance of the sound of clanging metal and belching bellows lent a certain solemn atmosphere to our morning gathering. As our minders grouped us into passable rows, another small rumble of the earth threatened to shatter the serenity of the morning. A scared slave screamed in a pitch higher than usual. After a crack of the whip had reduced the vocal slave to a curled gibbering wreck on the floor, a group of rough-looking individuals of various races and skin color, perhaps a dozen strong, entered the assembly grounds. Some were tall and muscular, like meaty slabs that had discovered the fine art of walking on two legs. Others were whipcord thin, lean, agile-sure of step, and quick of movement. A few dwarves were scattered about their number, dour and stout, with bushy eyebrows and long beards of assorted colors. Most interesting of all was what I recognized as an orc, who hulked over the rest of the group. He was an olive green bestial being of layered muscles and had sharp jutting tusks that rose from an extended underbite. On his sloped scarred head, a single topknot of purple hair completed the fierce appearance, and his fists, the size of small boulders, clenched and relaxed repeatedly at his side. A sign of barely restrained animalistic fury. The majority had bodies scarred with the loving kiss of the whip, and eyes hard and unforgiving as cruel winter. Some had the demeanor of those who had been victims of great cruelty, and in suffering those cruelties wanted to pass them on tenfold to the weaker and more vulnerable. And all bore a thick iron slave collar almost identical to my own. Kidu and I were herded off to join this new group, long sticks from our watchers guiding our way with a few savage flicks, which led Kidu to snarl at them. This in turn caused the wildman to utter a sharp high-pitched yelp, as the magic of his collar, neutralizing a perceived threat to its masters, worked to send great waves of lightning agony to its host. Miraculously, I was able to support the massive man who was still spasming with pain, and we both somehow made it over to the new group. Upon joining them, we were met with calculating stares that seemed to be judging if we were to be part of their pack or simply just new prey. Surprisingly, an uncollared Durhit also joined our party. Dwarven expertise with stone was a valuable commodity in our next venture, I figured. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Now separated from the main group of slaves, the Overseer Degei addressed our wolf pack of troublemakers himself, flanked by his usual burly guards. Unlike the earlier occasion, the guards seemed tense, scanning our motley crew of individuals with practiced gazes, searching for any threats against their master. I lowered my eyes to avoid drawing attention, which evoked a few snickers from the hardened crowd around me. ¡°The recent shakings of the earth have caused a collapse in one of the portside shafts near a particularly valuable vein of ore,¡± Overseer Degei began suddenly in a voice that contradicted his small size. ¡°Under the guidance of this dwarf.¡± He nodded in Durhit¡¯s direction before continuing, ¡°you will work to clear the shaft of fallen debris and open the way for industry once more. In good time, all of you will be allowed a turn with a female from our breeding stock of your choice, and two days of rest. However, should we fall behind, you will be left to the kind ministrations of our most experienced flesh-sculptors with no food for a week.¡± He finished the last sentence with an aplomb only those granted the mantle of authority for many years could marshal. It was the carrot and the stick approach, then. My new group began to make their way to the mines, some with avid lust on their features. The orc was most horrifying of all, looking like a wild beast in heat as he greedily picked up a mining pick and shovel in each of his giant hands. As I made a move to grab a familiar pickaxe, Durhit placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and shook his head. He handed me a shovel and a large, sturdy-looking wicker basket to place around my shoulders. ¡°Dangerous work this, you¡¯ll be wanting to stay back as far as possible. Might not be improving your chances by much, but they will be improved nonetheless,¡± he spoke in his sage gravelly voice. Grudgingly I took his advice and placed the basket about my shoulders, giving my thanks before catching up with the rest of the group. The rest of the group consisted of four mean-looking guards who carried an assortment of intimidating blunt and bladed weapons. These men were to be our escort. As we approached and entered the dark, dank passage, Durhit quickly made his way to the front of the group. Our escorts stationed themselves at the entrance, exchanging worried glances with each other as they counted our numbers on an abacus before we stepped foot into the mine''s gaping maw. Near the entrance, we could see scattered tools and other debris left behind by the slaves and their overseers who had abandoned their posts when the earthquake struck. As we ventured deeper into the mines, we took the furthest left tunnel, but soon realized that some of the wooden beams supporting the ceiling were askew and broken in places, with large slabs of rock and earthen debris half blocking our path. This sight cast a worrying pall over the group as no one wanted to be trapped under hundreds of tons of earth and rock. To address this concern, Durhit quickly ordered supports to be laid at various locations. With his and the other dwarves'' guidance, our team efficiently placed lumber to temporarily buttress the ceiling and help prevent a potential cave-in. However, as we worked, another small tremor shook the mines, causing a light dusting of rock powder to fall from the ceiling, and heightening everyone''s apprehension. Even the orc paused and sniffed the air, as fear and lust warred across his porcine features. ¡°Just a little shake, nothing to worry about. The faster we get this done, the faster we can get out of this cursed hole,¡± one of the dwarves said to encourage the rest of the group. However, his attempt at reassurance was met with a sharp retort from one of the gigantic human meat slabs, "That''s what your sire said to your dam, you stunty bastard!" The other dwarves gave the human a hard look, clearly sensitive about their height. Despite this, the rest of us laughed at the jibe, breaking the sudden tension in the air as we returned to our work. I tried to push the fact that several metric tons of earth and rock were hanging above our heads out of my mind. I had never been particularly comfortable in confined spaces, and the recent quake had tested my nerve. A part of me felt close to breaking, knowing that nothing in my skillset or arsenal of spells could aid us in the sudden and random event of a cave-in. Book 1: Lucky Strike [Part 1] From the land of the towering steel spires and the venomous mists shall it emerge. Its hunger insatiable, never quenched by the bountiful harvest of the shifting sands. Nay, it shall make its way to the sea that is but a memory, trapped and entombed in halls of white as pure as milk. A grave, long forgotten and left to the ages, shall stir once more, its power unleashed to claim the final reckoning. A scion of the ravenous people, born to bring destruction and ruin to all that stands before it. False justice and chaos its only companions, heralding the coming of the apocalypse. The harbinger of the ultimate cataclysm, it shall not rest until all that was once known is consumed by its insatiable wrath. None shall escape the doom that it brings, for its power is absolute and its hunger unending. The end is nigh, and no man, woman, or child shall be spared its merciless fury. - Attributed to the Wrack Witch before her execution circa 245 AC. Our group eventually reached a blocked part of the shaft where a large amount of stone had fallen from the ceiling, obstructing further passage to the deeper parts of the mine. Some of the other dwarves suggested digging around the shaft to create a small connecting tunnel, but Durhit decided that we should place beams to support the roof while we break up the larger pieces of stone and clear the way. The work was strenuous, but our group worked quickly under the skilled guidance of the dwarves, without the need for the extra motivation of a whip. I was shoveling gravel and loose debris into my wicker basket when a man of average height approached me. He had a lean and feral appearance, with scars running up and down his limbs. A receding hairline, thinning hair, and bald spot on the top of his head gave him the look of a tonsured monk. He greeted me with a rakish smile and began to talk. ¡°Haven¡¯t seen your type before around here. Name''s Elwin, Elwin Tucker," he said with a cheerful tone that seemed out of place in the setting. He then placed his shovel in his left hand and reached out to shake my hand with his calloused grip. I shook his hand with moderate enthusiasm and replied, ¡°I''ve never been to these parts before, but I think the hospitality and accommodations could use some improvement. I would very much like to end my journey in these lands." A small smile began to form at the corner of my mouth, and I found his friendly attitude infectious. ¡°My name is Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh of Uruk." ¡°Hah! I''ll drink to that, Gil, if only there was anything to drink. You don''t mind if I call you Gil, do you? There''s no escaping now that they''ve got you," he pointed to his heavy iron collar. ¡°You could put one of these things on a giant, and it wouldn''t be going anywhere fast!¡± Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ¡°I wouldn''t know about that.¡± My tongue loosened under his easy-going charisma, and I had to make a mental effort to stop myself from continuing foolishly. ¡°I mean, I''ve never had one of these lovely pieces of jewelry on me before,¡± I finished a little lamely. The man looked at me quizzically before returning to his work. "Not for lack of trying on my part," he said, gesturing to his collar. "I''ve tried many things with this thing. I''ve hit it with something, tried getting my mates to hit it with something, and that took some doing. I''ve even tried grinding it against some hard rock, and let me tell you, that is not an easy task. It felt like I was sawing away at my own neck! But everything ended in pain." He shoveled another load of dirt and gravel. "Once, I was even able to get a good distance away from this lovely holiday spot. But I was caught by those cursed Tides, writhing on the ground in pain so great that I''m sure my bastard children''s children will feel it. They had a good laugh at that." The temptation to reveal to him that there might be a way out of our situation grew stronger along with my sympathy, but I knew I had to keep this particular card close to my chest. I had only just met him, and I began to wonder if this was some sort of test. I had absolutely no reason to trust this man, despite his friendly demeanor. Venturing to change the topic, I gave him a brief summary of my origins, leaving out the detail about coming from Earth. Unlike Kidu and Durhit, he appeared a bit skeptical about my story, but was nonetheless understanding of my fabricated memory loss. At some point during the conversation, Kidu, who was busy breaking up rocks nearby, began to interject, correcting some of the details to fit his own version of events. The brutish orc was carving up the stones in front of him, a pickaxe in each hand, and gouged through the stone with consummate ease and bestial fury. Kidu responded in turn, blonde dreadlocks swinging with each mighty flourish of his mining tool, and a sort of rivalry had grown between the two. Elwin and I hurried to keep gathering the smaller stones and detritus out of the way. During a small lull in the work, even the formidable Kidu had to begrudgingly concede victory to the orc. Impressed by Kidu''s performance, I decided to discreetly cast an Identify spell on him as he breathed in and out like the bellows of a forge. I was a bit surprised that I had not thought to do so earlier.
Kidu Kreshin - Hunter (Human lvl.11)
Health: 211/214 Stamina: 02/47 Mana: 5/5
Kidu''s statistics were impressive, and it was no wonder how he was able to keep up with the orc for as long as he had. His class designation of Hunter made sense from his tales of the frozen north of his home, his skills no doubt honed by dealing with the great beasts that lived there. We asked Elwin about his own origins. The temptation to cast the spell on him as he began his little tale was strong, but I decided to refrain until we were at a safer locale. Book 1: Lucky Strike [Part 2] ¡°My tale is a simple one. I was a Forester for a lord. My whole family had been Foresters since way back in the March Reaches of Aranthia,¡± he began in his naturally friendly tone. ¡°Our lot in life was to protect the lord''s game from the hungry types and the occasional goblin. One year, after perhaps the bitterest winter and poorest harvest of the ages, I found out that one of my neighbor''s sons had been putting a little extra in his game bag. Wilf, Silf, I can''t even remember his name now... it seems like another lifetime. But I do remember that it was hard to enforce Reach justice, which called for death for the crime of poaching. All of this was for a lord whom I had only met once, to punish a man who had a starving family and a wailing bairn. I let it go, and perhaps even snuck him a bit of coin every now and then." He paused for a moment, as if gathering himself. ¡°It began with poaching, and it seemed that poaching was a stepping stone to banditry for young Wilf. Needless to say, someone who was deep in their cups told someone else, and then a different someone pointed a finger at me. The Arbitrator said I was responsible for the crimes of the man whom I had willingly turned a blind eye to, that I was some sort of a corrupt civil servant. I was sold off to pay for someone else''s crime and as a demonstration of the Lord''s authority. And here I am, toiling under the earth, when I should be under the boughs of the trees breathing in the clean forest air.¡± Elwin tried to finish in resignation, but he couldn''t quite help adding, ¡°Which sure beats the stench of you lads. The bunch of you could kill a full-grown buck just standing downwind. I''d probably be dead already if my nose wasn''t already!¡± We replied with a weak laugh, as a dour, gray-bearded dwarf gestured for us to get back to work with a scowl and a wave of a shovel that scraped the ceiling, coating his beard with fine white rock dust that looked like blue snow in the gloom. "On my honor, I wish for nothing more than to be free and wreak vengeance on the Children!" Kidu declared in his simplistic way, his voice filled with strong determination as he resumed carving up the rock, no doubt imagining he was caving in the faces of the Children of the Tides. A few hours later, we had finally cleared enough of the shaft''s obstructions for two abreast to walk through. Under the blue glow of the Zajasite lightstones, we allowed ourselves a small break to rest our tired and sore muscles. Durhit sent Elwin back up to the surface to call for much-needed supplies. A group of younger slaves, led by Elwin, returned to us later. Water-bearers brought with them baskets of bread, which we scarfed down almost as quickly as they handed them out. A familiar face passed, his eyes hot with rage but downturned in fear. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Gunne,¡± I stated, recognizing him. The boy flinched, surprised that I had remembered his name. ¡°Son of Gundlaug. Will you have your revenge this day?¡± I continued slowly, my tone filled with petty spite. To his credit, he didn''t rise to the provocation and silently handed out my portion of bread just as Durhit arrived to check up on us. ¡°Don¡¯t be terrorizing the lad too much. We are¡­¡± he began but was cut off as the earth suddenly rumbled and the walls shook as if they were receiving blows from mighty fists. Losing my balance, I was tossed against the wall, accidentally striking a slave whose name I did not know with my shovel and sending him to the ground. Powerful vibrations shook the mines, causing our hastily made supports to quiver against the seismic forces and stone dust to fall from the ceiling. Somewhere in the chaos, I could hear wailing and panicked screaming as the earth continued to convulse like an angry and uncaring god. Suddenly, one of the supports exploded under the strain like a tree in the coldest winter, making a sound like a gunshot and adding to the cacophony of chaos. This triggered a chain reaction as rocks began to fall from the ceiling. First small loose stones and gravel hit with a rattling sound, followed by hulking jagged boulders that added to the disorder and caused injuries in the blue-stained pandemonium. As I looked down, I was met with horror as the slave I had accidentally struck was smashed by a large rock, utterly squashed under its great weight.
You have slain a Human 95 experience gained. You have gained 1 Luck. You have gained 1 Dexterity. You have reached level 7. 3 unassigned attribute points. 1 unassigned skill point.
Even as the earth rumbled in its rage, rocks falling everywhere, I frantically navigated through the interface to assign my skills. In a split-second decision, I added a skill point to Dodge, and as was my custom, I allocated all of my attribute points to Constitution. Being a fraction more agile, I was able to avoid another falling rock and even pushed Kidu out of the way of a large, plummeting white stone just in time. But that was the last thing I remembered before something hard struck the back of my head, causing a sharp pain to rattle my skull. Then the world went black, and I knew no more. Book 1: Small Mercies With the cost in blood ever rising as the war raged on, the leader of the Alliance, the Elven High King even offered amnesty to the Republic on the condition that they surrender their leader in chains. This was met with derision by the senate and their envoy was sent back with a message that there would be no surrender to the savage barbarians from across the seas. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. Black things that stabbed, while whispering sweet promises of release, plagued me as I woke up with a feral scream. Disorientation filled me as I looked around the blue gloom. The insides of my skull felt like mashed jelly as I desperately tried to take stock of my situation. Gingerly, I touched the back of my head to find it crusted with dried blood. I winced inwardly as I checked my status and character, noticing that I had sustained considerable damage in the last quake. Chuckling to myself quietly, which soon turned into a dry cough, I remembered that I had gained a level and a few attribute points when I had inadvertently killed a fellow slave. Looking over the rest of my character sheet, I confirmed my gains.
STATUS
Calling: Gilgamesh Level 7 Acolyte of Avaria Strength: 22 Dexterity: 14 Constitution: 31 Intelligence: 18 Wisdom: 14 Charisma: 9 Luck: 14
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1) Power Strike (lvl.2) Endure (lvl.3) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.3) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.3) Polearms (lvl.2) Dual Wield (lvl.1) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) Mining (lvl.2) Unarmed Combat (lvl.3) Hammers (lvl.2) The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) Rust (lvl.2) Identify (lvl.2) Silent Casting (lvl.1)
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.
Experience to next level: 1065/1289
Health: 93/147 Stamina: 45/49 Mana: 12/12
It appeared that my short sojourn into unconsciousness had counted as a rest. This had thankfully regenerated most of my Stamina, Mana, and even some of my Health. Even in my currently weakened state, I would be more than a match for a few Bibsis, I wryly mused. Groggily, I tried to rise, only to be stopped when I realized my right leg was trapped. A slab of white stone had fallen across it, stained blue in the Zajasite glow. Straining, I tried to push off the rock and was met with a sharp pain that competed with my other previously experienced agonies. Gritting my teeth, I began to push. Straining ever harder against the cold stone slab, I finally managed to move it off, which was accompanied by a final grinding noise that I hoped was not the sound of breaking bone. Whimpering a little, I tried to gather myself, finding it difficult to cast Heal through the pain. Finally, after a few long, agonizing seconds, I was able to complete the spell with a short mental shout as it filled me with familiar warmth. My leg wondrously healed before me, bringing me almost to full Health. I felt a wave of relief at putting nearly all my level-up skill points into the Heal spell. Taking a moment to collect my wits after that arduous experience, I looked around at what was left of the tunnel. Great slabs of stone had fallen randomly and crushed and killed most of the slaves. The path to the surface was completely blocked; there would be no rescue from that direction. My eyes cast through the gloom searching for familiar shapes and faces before alighting on the great bulk that could only have been Kidu. Scrambling to his side, I could see that he was covered in gashes and cuts across his massive limbs and trunk, his linen tunic bloodstained in many places. By the grace of the gods, Kidu was still breathing, his massive chest rising and falling, albeit erratically. His breath was raspy and strained. Focusing my power, I cast Heal. Now, instead of pulling the power inwards, I pushed it outside of myself and through my hands into the giant''s body. I sighed mentally in relief, as I was unsure if the magic would even work on another being. I watched the healing power flow through Kidu''s body, closing several of his wounds. As he began to breathe easier, I sat down cross-legged beside the large man, mentally exhausted. A sound halfway between a whimper and a wail distracted me from my reverie, and I turned in its direction. Leaving Kidu''s side, I made my way to the pitiful sound. In the gloom, I spied Durhit''s short, solid shape hunched over a small form. As I came closer, I saw that the small shape was in fact a person. It was none other than Gunne son of Gudlaug, the boy barely into his teens who had sworn vengeance against me for killing Harun. Looking back at my actions, I was somewhat perturbed by what I had done to the man Gunne had idolized. Did the crime of cutting in line merit such a violent reaction? Had this world already changed me to such a frightening degree? Still, I realized, the experience from his death probably had been instrumental in helping me survive this far. This world rewarded killers after all. Gunne was whimpering weakly, his lithe youthful body half-crushed by rocks, a puddle of red forming around him. Durhit was holding his hand gently, offering soft, meaningless words of comfort to him in his final moments. Durhit then looked up at me, and I imagined that his eyes were perhaps a little shiny with the start of tears in the gloom. ¡°The boy is in great pain. I have seen this before... in the field,¡± he paused for a moment. ¡°I can¡¯t do it again, and you are... well, you know¡­¡± I raised a single eyebrow, which he may not have noticed. ¡°Take away his suffering. He might be a long time dying otherwise,¡± he begged of me softly, his voice barely a whisper. Cowardice and weakness threaded into his plea. I looked down at the boy and his mangled body, and perhaps a little too eagerly, I picked up a mining pick from a pile of loose rubble. Its point glinted wickedly in the gloom. I wanted this pathetic NPC to suffer for a long time, to feel even a fraction of the pain and humiliation that he had inflicted on me when he dared to threaten me. However, I mentally shrugged my shoulders. It was free experience after all, and Durhit was practically begging me. Without any further ceremony, I met Gunne''s widening eyes with a cold gaze as I slowly raised the pickaxe. His hands clenched and his mewling grew more desperate. Durhit began saying something like "It''s going to be alright," or some other pointless tripe, as I brought the pickaxe down in cathartic anger into his skull, smashing what remained of his youthful features.
You have slain Gunne 70 experience gained.
Book 1: Give & Take The Great Below, the Everdark, and the Realm of Shadowed Rock are just a few names given to the great expanse that lies beneath the surface. The Dwarven miners of old were said to have first made entry there even before the cataclysm. Great artifacts from bygone ages are said to lie there, guarded by monsters and natives who have only known the embrace of the night. Adventurers from the guild have been sent on countless expeditions to map out its depths, searching for a fabled treasure trove said to lie in a place called the ¡°Inverse Mountain.¡± - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. Something broke in Durhit then, as he began to cry silent tears. I was simply disappointed that Gunne¡¯s death was only worth seventy experience points and did not bring about any improvements to my attributes or skills. Gunne, almost useless to the end. For a fleeting second, I also wondered how much experience I could get if I finished off Kidu in his weakened state¡­ ¡°Pull yourself together, Durhit,¡± I said as I pretended to console him, placing my hand on his shoulder. "We need to get out of here before the tunnel collapses completely." ¡°Gunne was a good boy,¡± he said, rubbing his eyes. ¡°He always showed up on time, always had a smile on his face. You know he had a beautiful singing voice? That''s why that bastard Harun took him under his wing. He was a good lad who didn''t deserve to die like this.¡± ¡°Are you ok¡­I mean, alright Durhit?¡± He looked at me quizzically as I subconsciously used the unfamiliar English word. ¡°Kidu is in a bad way, and we need to move him. I can¡¯t heave his great bulk alone,¡± I said, pointing to the wildman¡¯s prone form. Something in my words spoke to his sense of responsibility as a leader, and he rose up on his two short legs. He gave a final mournful look at Gunne''s remains, filled with sadness, before slapping himself on the face with both palms. ¡°You speak the truth, Gilgamesh. Let us get Kidu to a place of safety and search for other survivors. In the undermines a quake like this is usually followed by others, often more deadly than the first,¡± he said in his rough voice, setting his shoulders and walking purposefully towards Kidu''s location. Together, we managed to move Kidu as far as we could down the tunnels before having to stop and rest. We quickly turned back to search for any other survivors. I began to shout out, but Durhit immediately stopped me, clasping his rough hand firmly over my mouth. ¡°You don¡¯t want to be shouting after a cave-in. Quakes are bad enough, could bring down the whole thing on us!¡± he warned sternly, looking at me intensely. I nodded my understanding, and we continued our search for survivors in low voices, listening carefully for any signs. Durhit picked up a fallen Zajasite stone, casting its light around the area. The blue glow the stone threw up strange shadows in the darkness. As the dwarf searched, I decided to do something to improve my situation. Not wanting to hurt myself, I focused on a single link of the manacles around my legs. I slowly released the Rust spell, barely registering the scratchy alien whispers and the radiated heat. Black lightning flowed down into the metal, corroding and eating away at it in the gloom. After some time, the energy subsided to a light thrumming, and I called out to Durhit softly, making my way toward his moving light. Tripping on something in the gloom, a hand suddenly gripped my ankle. I let out a shrieked yelp that drew the dwarf''s attention. Looking down in surprise, I could just about discern Elwin''s features, covered as he was in rock dust and dirt. In the gloom, the man looked like some sort of mud or earth elemental. ¡°Could you check where you''re stepping?¡± Elwin said with a grimace before coughing. ¡°Also, a little help if you would be so kind?¡± He chuckled, wincing in pain. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Durhit quickly made his way over, helping me raise Elwin up as we supported him on both sides. His arms draped loosely around our shoulders as we moved him further down the tunnel. "Wait here and keep an eye on these two. I''ll go back and look for anything useful to keep us alive in this mess," the dwarf spoke in a commanding voice, and I nodded in agreement. "Well, thanks a lot back there. Now, instead of dying quickly, I get to die slow. Not like we can go anywhere too far with these," Elwin said, darkly pointing at his collar. "And not like our glorious masters will be sending a rescue party down a dangerous mine to get some trouble slaves! Glad the big man made it through. At least we''ll all be eating well before we die of thirst," he finished with a dispirited sigh that echoed in the gloom. The situation was dire; the threat of being buried alive was very real, and I needed all the help I could get. The time for keeping things close to my chest was over, and I needed to roll the dice. ¡°There might be a way to neutralize these collars,¡± I said slowly and hesitantly. Unease crept over me with my sudden confession. ¡°I told you before, lad, I''ve tried just about everything except for magic¡­¡± He paused, understanding slowly dawning in his eyes. ¡°The big man said something about you being god-touched,¡± he uttered solemnly. ¡°There is, however, a problem. It might be a little painful, and I need to rest before I make the attempt,¡± I replied, uncertainty obvious in my tone. ¡°Ha! I knew it all along. I knew you were hiding something big. A lad like you could have never taken out a Nord like Haran if you didn''t have something special in you,¡± he said almost too quickly for me to comprehend, his voice animated with childish excitement. ¡°But first I¡¯ll need something from you¡­¡± I raised a hand, and he stopped yammering almost instantly. Give and take, the simple language of transactions was what a man like Elwin understood. ¡°Tell me quickly what you know about magic,¡± I breathed, trying to contain my eagerness for this esoteric knowledge. ¡°Can''t say I know much myself,¡± he started before noticing my expression. ¡°...And I don''t know anything more than what is commonly known. Also, I don''t think this is the best time to be wagging tongues. But that bit of magic you used just there, I''ve never heard of its like before, and I don''t really see how it''s going to help us get out of this little predicament. That is unless you''ve got a few other different tricks in the bag?¡± he asked, an edge of desperation replacing his usual good humor. He was right. Now, perhaps, was not the best time to be having this conversation. But I thirsted for any scrap of information. Was the man holding out and hiding something from me? I looked him in the eye, now not quite trusting the man. After casting Identify on him, my suspicions were confirmed.
Elwin Tucker - Rogue (Human lvl.12)
Health: 74/132 Stamina: 27/38 Mana: 10/10
Most certainly not a Forester then, which meant I probably couldn''t trust his spiel about his tragic past. For all I knew, he could have been the poacher turned bandit in his little story. Challenging him on this would be of little advantage to me at this moment, and I would have to reveal another of my abilities if I did so. I had no way of knowing if what he told me was truly just common knowledge in this world. Something in my gut told me not to trust the charismatic Rogue fully just yet. I was able to take some assurance that, from seeing his attributes, I was probably a little stronger than him physically. A good thing to keep in mind if it came to blows. ¡°Thank you,¡± I replied weakly. ¡°I need rest to gather my strength. Can you and Durhit watch over me and Kidu?¡± I leaned against the rock for support. ¡°You do whatever you need to. Now that I know you can help me get away from this cursed hole, I''ll be guarding you with my life, even if the Dark Lady pays a visit!¡± he answered enthusiastically, thumping his chest with a fist. The reference to the Dark Lady did not ring a bell for me, but I figured it must be some grim entity held in terror in this world. Speaking to him had opened up more questions than answers, but at least I could be sure of his motives. Our only hope was to work through this together, or we would all die together here, underground. Durhit raised the Zajasite crystal, its dull blue glow illuminating the walls slightly, and declared this length of the tunnel structurally sound. Deciding to roll fate''s die, I finally relaxed my shoulders and tried to rest. Soon enough, I would fall into the clutches of a nightmare of drowning under a blanket of dark, choking earth. Book 1: Darkest Hours [Part 1] The subterranean depths are not to be trifled with, for they are home to a multitude of creatures that would make even the bravest of men tremble. The darkness down there is eternal, and those that dwell within it have evolved to navigate it with senses beyond our understanding. Some are pallid and sightless, while others possess an array of heightened senses that make them deadly predators. There are whispers of a creature that surpasses all others in its power and ferocity - the Great Crawler. Though its existence is little more than rumor, its supposed presence has been felt through the quakes it causes as it tunnels through the rock and earth. It is said that the monster is the stuff of nightmares, a beast so terrifying that even the hardiest of adventurers dare not venture into its domain. Many believe that the tales of Earth Dragons are nothing more than the ramblings of ignorant peasants, but perhaps there is some truth to their words. For who can say what beasts lie in the depths of the earth, waiting to unleash their fury upon the surface world? - Monsters of the Mortal Realms by K. D. Fidditch. I was awoken by the rough shaking of my shoulders. "It''s alright, lad," I heard a familiar gravelly voice say as a solid hand shook my shoulders, pulling me from the depths of my bad dream. Groggily, I rubbed my face awake and saw Durhit''s ash-gray eyes looking intently at me, cold in the Zajasite''s blue light. Turning to my left and right, I could see Kidu standing with his arms crossed, hulking and taciturn in the gloom. Elwin Tucker, the rogue, practically jumped up when he saw that I was awake. "Can you do it?" he asked, almost childishly, his desire glowing in his eyes and written in the dark lines of his face. I checked the bottom left of my vision, confirming that my Mana had risen, but not to full.
Health: 147/147 Stamina: 49/49 Mana: 9/12
Answering Elwin''s question with one of my own, I croaked, my voice dry, "How long did I rest for?" "About an hour, I would say," Durhit answered. "Even for us, it''s hard to keep track of time when you''re in the earth''s embrace." "Hrmm... nothing related, but I always wondered, why do they call you little dwarves stone-eaters?" Elwin asked offhandedly. Even in the gloom, Durhit''s scowl could be clearly seen. "Because you manlings believe that such is a dwarf''s greed that he would rather eat stone than pay for food!" he harrumphed at the Rogue''s question, clearly a little annoyed. "Your collar, I can¡­ I can¡­ do something to it. Break its mechanisms, I think," I all but blurted to change the subject, unwilling to let the situation escalate. All attention suddenly turned to me, and I felt the full onslaught of their gazes. Kidu uncrossed his arms and tried to speak quietly but his voice ended up booming and echoing in the darkness. "You have a way? This is the truth of it?" I nodded in response and replied placatingly, "Try touching your collar, please trust me. Not you, Elwin!" I quickly snapped as Elwin made to touch his collar, stopping just before making contact. Gingerly, Kidu touched his own collar. I knew for a fact that I had cast Rust on his collar once before, albeit at level one. Hiding my panic as best I could, I realized that I should have cast Identify on his collar before urging him to touch it. I breathed a mental sigh of relief when he suffered no ill effects. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. "Now, many of the Tides will die, thanks to you Gilgamesh the god-touched. I swear it to be so. For this gift of freedom, I do also swear from this day forth we are brothers. My spear and bow will be yours, always," he vowed solemnly, looking me steadily in the eyes. "Alright, now how about me?" Elwin chimed in, raw eagerness lacing his voice. "This might hurt a little... well, actually, to be honest with you, this may hurt a lot. You will want to be seated for this," I cautioned, worry echoing in my voice. Elwin acknowledged my instructions and sat down on the rocky floor. Anticipating the potential pain, he ripped some fabric from the short sleeve of his tunic, rolled it up, and bit on it before nodding to me. Looking to Kidu to restrain him, I looked at the Rogue once more in the eyes. "You sure of this?" I asked, knowing his answer before I had even finished. He nodded emphatically, his eyes steady with resolve. Casting my magic, I heard the familiar dark whispers as an oily feeling of wrongness pervaded my body. The energy felt almost gleeful now, as if wishing to be released. Holding my dominant left hand forward, I unleashed the pent-up energy into Elwin''s slave collar. Black energy, visible only to me, danced across the metal and swirled ever faster in a crescendo of movement. At first, Elwin looked as if nothing was wrong, until his eyes opened in what must have been great pain. A muffled scream reached his lips as he bit down. He closed his mouth tight against the rising heat of the collar as energy was released by the oxidation. A slight tinge of ozone laced the air as esoteric energies devoured the metal, releasing stored energies within. This continued for long moments. The energy released from weeks of oxidation, compressed into such a short time frame, was hurting Elwin. Eventually, the roiling energies subsided to a soft thrumming, and the Rogue¡¯s head lolled, his mental and physical endurance at its limits. The smell of lightly charred flesh filled the small space. Durhit, in his wisdom, splashed some precious water from a scavenged canteen where metal met the skin of the man. It hissed as it hit the hot, now inert metal and caused Elwin to wake up with a resounding scream that could be heard even through his gag. I moved quickly to his side, placing both hands around his neck to cast Heal. At first, it seemed reluctant to follow my will. Nonetheless, after a tense few moments, I was ultimately able to channel the positive energies into the struggling man. The warm power ameliorated his pain and suffering, and the cuts and bruises along his face visibly healed before our very eyes, even in the dark gloom. Finally, as the spell ended, he spat out the wad of cloth and took deep breaths, like a man who had come too close to dying on a distant shore. The hulking Kidu looked at me and nodded, affirming his own wisdom. "By the ancestor spirits, you truly are god-touched. Now I know that I was right to join my spear to yours," the proud wildman Kidu proclaimed. Durhit looked confused, conflicting emotions warring across his features, before he spoke a single word with the impact of a gunshot. "Gunne," he whispered. "Gunne, son of Gudlaug, swore a blood feud against my spear brother. Under what obligation was he to help that brat? Better to die free than to die as a slave," snarled Kidu, fierce in his protectiveness like a mother bear. "He was just a child who had fallen in with a..." Durhit stammered, surprised at Kidu''s sudden unequivocal defense. "Healing... like this... is expensive," wheezed Elwin, slowly recovering from my ministrations. He touched his collar for confirmation and breathed a sigh of relief when no lightning pain paralyzed him. "Gil here was under no responsibility to help the boy. You know that the good brothers at the temples charge a fortune for his kind of healing!" "Just... we could have saved him," the dwarf said somberly, looking sad as his shoulders sagged in surrender. Seeking to clear up the situation, I decided to speak up and say my piece. "Durhit, I truly believed the boy was beyond saving. The healing you think could have saved him, I simply could not do," I said, looking to Elwin for support. "I could not have done it with the energies I had at the time," I added, lying with ease. "I have known many liars, and I would stake my life and immortal soul on it that Gil here speaks the truth," Elwin said before taking a breath, which seemed to come a little easier now. "As Kidu says, it''s better he died quick and clean than the slow, tortured life of a slave. Besides, what else was he to do?" I looked at Durhit, challenging him to disagree, but he said nothing. It must have been some sort of test because I received a notification that I had gained another point in Charisma.
You have gained 1 Charisma.
Book 1: Darkest Hours [Part 2] The old dwarf took a sip of water from a canteen before passing it around to the rest of us. We each drank greedily in turn, the stale water having a slightly leathery taste as it cleared our palates. The dwarf reached into a wicker basket and produced a single loaf of bread, which he divided into four equal pieces and handed out a chunk to each of us. We ate this humble meal in silence, the recent events on our minds. "Well, what do we do now?" Elwin asked tentatively, looking to Durhit for direction. With no answer forthcoming, I took the lead and made a suggestion. "First, we need to break these chains," I said, holding up my manacled hands and pointing to the chains at my feet. Even Durhit perked up at my proposal, giving us all a clear purpose. Placing my hands on a sharp boulder, I turned to Kidu and asked, "Would you do me the honor of breaking my bondage?" Grinning with almost childish glee, Kidu picked up a heavy pickaxe. Lifting it overhead, he brought it down in a massive swing that crushed through the iron links. His strike caused a mighty clank to echo down the shaft, and his pickaxe gouged a further few inches into the hard rock. The others stared in wonder at his prodigious strength. Smiling down at me, Kidu gestured for me to place the chains of my legs on the rock, and he struck down again with all of his great Strength. The chains had been weakened by my Rust spell, and they split apart like ripe fruit, freeing me. At long last, freedom. Even in the blue gloom, I could have sworn that the eyes of the others brightened a little. Next, Kidu solemnly placed his own chains on the rock, almost reverently gesturing for me to break his chains. I picked up another scavenged pickaxe, and unsure if my unaided Strength would be enough, I raised the mining tool above my head and silently released a Power Strike. The results were suitably impressive. I utterly obliterated the chains and shattered the rock beneath them, almost splitting the small boulder in two with a single blow. Wiping my brow and feigning greater fatigue than I truly felt, I smiled at my companions with bravado. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Kidu thanked me with all the air of a priest at communion. Knuckles facing outwards, he touched the place between his eyes with an open hand, which I gathered to mean a sign of respect and gratitude. "Now, let''s see if we can find a way out of here," I said, looking around at the dank, narrow tunnel walls. All I wanted to do at that moment was get as far away from here as possible. Elwin and Durhit, however, were more focused on the business of smashing their own chains. Kidu and Elwin searched in the gloom to help Durhit find another suitable piece of rock. ***** After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably less than half an hour, we were all able to break our chains. Elwin¡¯s bonds had proven to be particularly resistant, and the dwarf and the wildman had to take turns smashing at the stubborn links. Finally, we were all free. Although the remains of our manacles still encircled our wrists and ankles, our spirits were much lifted. As we rested in the blue gloom, Durhit made sure to gather some fallen Zajasite stones. He asked Kidu to carefully smash one from the ceiling and handed each of us a glowing blue stone, giving us a source of light. "I hate to sound annoying, but what do we do now?" Elwin asked the group, although he looked mostly in my direction. The dwarf suggested, "We need to find water. The area around here be known for its underground streams and rivers. If we can find one deeper down, we may be able to find a way out of here, but¡­" "There is always a ''but'' though, isn''t there?" said the Rogue saucily. "By all means, speak on, sir dwarf. I am just delighting in my newfound liberty for a moment." "In the deep places, a few workers were said to have gone missing. Strange tunnels were formed that no Overseer was responsible for digging," the dwarf explained. "I believe the deep places are dangerous, and we should proceed with caution. But it could be our only way out. Going back the way we came would take almost a lifetime of digging through that mountain of rubble," he finished, looking each of us wearily in the eye. "I''d rather try for it than standing around here waiting to die of starvation. I say that we go for it!" chirped Elwin. Kidu simply grunted. I nodded to the dwarf, giving him leadership of the group. "Lead on. I bow to your expertise and Wisdom. I have no understanding of these deep places as your people do." "Thank you all. Given this old dwarf a little bit of hope back, you have," Durhit replied, some of his earlier confidence returning to his voice. Although I was low on Mana, I thought about asking the group for another rest. But their eagerness to leave was infectious. With that, we gathered up what equipment and scant supplies of water and food we had and ventured deeper into the earth. Book 1: A Bid for True Freedom [Part 1] So incensed by the refusal of what he thought was a reasonable offer of amnesty, the High King of the Elves begged once more with the Dragon Queen for aid, offering a dragon egg¡¯s weight in precious silvery mithril. Greed sinking its claws into her reptilian heart, she commanded that flights of dragons launch into the sky and rain death and destruction on the Republic. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. We trudged silently down the long tunnels for perhaps an hour or two, the small Zajasite stones in our hands casting strange blue shadows in the gloom. As I looked to the bottom left of my vision, I noticed that my Mana had mysteriously risen to three points, and I also received a new notification.
You have learned Mana Regeneration (lvl.1)
I was grateful for the new skill, and its effects were pretty self-explanatory. The mystery to me, however, was how it had been triggered. Was it due to my constant draining of Mana and then resting? Did it stack with my Rest skill? I pondered these questions fruitlessly before I almost bumped into Durhit, who had raised a hand signaling a stop. Up ahead in the semi-darkness, there was an offshoot tunnel. It was almost perfectly circular and smaller in diameter than the tunnel we were currently in. The dwarf raised a finger to his mouth, gesturing for silence as he looked down into the gloom. Slowly, we understood the need for caution as we strained our ears, catching the impression of an insectile clicking noise. As stealthily as possible, I ventured to the lip of the new tunnel and gazed down, holding my piece of glowing Zajasite like an icon of faith close to my chest. What I saw could only be described as other. A pair of dark, four-armed creatures, just over a meter high, stood on two reverse-jointed legs. Their feet had sharp-looking claws, and a bony cranium sat on a squat, almost non-existent neck. Large hairy antennae protruded from their craniums where eyes would normally be, which twitched as if tasting the air. Instead of a mouth, four deadly mandibles formed a cross shape, clicking together as they communicated with one another. Two long, double-jointed arms extruded from their shoulders, which ended in sharp-looking bone spurs that resembled scythe blades. From their chests, smaller yet more dexterous arms ended with three clawed fingers and an opposable digit for possible manipulation. The creatures'' bodies were armored with pale ridged chitinous scales, thicker along their backs and trunks and finer along their joints. The whole ensemble resembled terrifying, albino, insectile alien creatures in the blue surreal light. The creatures chittered to each other in their unknowable alien language, their moth-like heads and antennae moving around as if searching. I noticed a bead of sweat forming on Durhit''s brow as he moved closer, his body tensed like a drawn bow. Everyone gripped their worn mining tools, ready for a potential fight. My heart was beating like a war drum. An unknown part of me almost welcomed this potentially cathartic conflict, an alien counterpoint to the fear that I felt in equal measure in that cold darkness. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. "Echo-Stalkers," the dwarf muttered under his breath, causing Elwin the Rogue to visibly flinch and take a step back, inadvertently kicking a small pebble. Almost instantly, the pair of insectile creatures turned in our direction, their antennae swishing almost spasmodically. Their chittering grew in volume, loud in the silence of the tunnel as they stalked closer towards us, their scythe blade arms menacing the air. Adrenaline began pumping through my system as I cast Identify at the rightmost Echo-Stalker to try and gauge the scope of the incoming threat.
Echo-Stalker - Drone - (lvl.6)
Health: 45/45 Stamina: 23/24 Mana: 4/4
Suddenly, without warning, their antennae stiffened, and the chittering stopped as they charged towards us, their leaping gait bounding across the distance between us. Mesmerized by their sudden burst of speed, I saw the right Echo-Stalker run across the wall of the tunnel as it sprung straight at me, dual scythe blades raised to stab through my chest. It was met suddenly by a rock thrown with lightning speed by our Rogue, landing smack into the center of its mandibles, half-stunning it as it missed its fatal strike. Snapping out of my fugue, I raised my own weapon to smash down in a deadly arc with the strength of a Power Strike behind it. The force of the blow was so powerful that the chains at my wrists hit the creature before rebounding and striking me lightly across my own forearms. Feebly, as it tried to rise on unsteady limbs, I ended its suffering with a blow to its mangled head, ending its life.
You have slain an Echo-Stalker 30 experience gained.
The notification of its death brought a rush of elation through my veins, fierce and unrelenting. Looking around for any remaining threats, I saw that Kidu and Durhit had surrounded the remaining drone. Its own speed and eagerness to reach us had been its downfall. Kidu had been able to flank the monster, striking at it as it leaped. The force of his blow shattered one of its scythe-like arms, leaving it dangling uselessly at its side. The Hunter and the Sapper worked in silent tandem, each delivering their own precise, probing strikes with the utmost caution. They knew all too well the risks of drawing more of these nightmarish creatures to our location, and so they moved with quiet, deadly efficiency. Elwin held another stone in his hand, testing its weight while he waited for an opening. Sensing my approach, the drone chittered wildly, mandibles clacking as it raised its head in threat. That was all the opening Elwin needed. He promptly threw his projectile, hitting the antennae square on, causing it to nearly snap off. We all charged the drone then, even Elwin, who picked up a shovel to join the fray. Our group struck it with everything we had, making it crash to the ground in a bundle of mangled, flailing limbs. We did not stop hitting it until it finally stilled, and I received another death notification.
You have slain an Echo-Stalker 15 experience gained. You have gained 1 Dexterity.
Book 1: A Bid for True Freedom [Part 2] The fight could not have lasted for more than a minute, but the surge of adrenaline and the aftermath of spent combat fervor had left my hands trembling. We stood there, our chests heaving, as we sought to catch our breaths, hands resting on our knees in an effort to recover. "Well, that was certainly something," the Rogue quipped, trying to mask his earlier fear. But the bearded dwarf''s expression was grim and dour as he spoke, "Those two were just a scout pair. There will be more of them ahead... a lot more." The wildman, unfazed by the danger ahead, simply shrugged and spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. "They''ll make for fine trophies." He proceeded to tear off the scythe blades from the Drone''s lifeless body with ease, showcasing his raw strength, before carefully placing them in his wicker basket. However, when he made a move to remove the insect heads, he quickly changed his mind, shaking his head. Peering into the gloom, now that the immediate threat had been neutralized, we saw that the tunnel connected to a large, wide, circular room. Within it was a vast concave floor that resembled a pit that dipped shallowly towards its center. Without so much as a whisper, we cautiously entered the space, our senses alert for any sign of peril lurking within. Casting our weak blue lights at the edges, we walked along the circumference, only to find the room filled with old bones, loose rocks, and a miscellany of detritus. The whole area must have been a great garbage pit for the refuse of the underground monsters. Seeing that no further tunnels branched from the room, the dwarf decided to explore further. Skidding down, followed by loose pebbles, Durhit made his way to the center of the room. As we followed in his wake, the crunch of animal bones beneath our feet sent shivers down our spines. Large and small, the bones were of species unknown to us, intermingled with the occasional cracked human skull, a grim reminder of the fate that may yet befall us all. "So, this is where the lost miners ended up," Durhit mused, his attention diverted as he lifted a humanoid skull for closer inspection. "Some of us even thought they had found a way out. No matter, let us search and see if we can find anything useful." We swiftly followed his lead, scouring the trash heap for any useful items. What surprised us were the occasional remnants of once-colorful garments that were strewn among the bones, a stark contrast to our own drab slave linens. As I examined a particularly large femur, my attention was drawn to the remnants of a crude doll lying nearby. The small toy had small horn buttons for its mouth and eyes and was no doubt once a beloved toy of some innocent child. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Elwin sifted through the refuse and uncovered a plain, rusty iron dagger, which he quickly concealed up his sleeve. Kidu, meanwhile, discovered a rotten bow that nearly crumbled to dust in his grip. After searching for a while longer, Durhit found something and tossed it my way, exclaiming, "Should be about your size, manling!" Caught off guard, I fumbled with the object, my hands clumsily passing it back and forth in a rather comical fashion. Eventually, I regained my composure and examined what he had given me. It was a conical, open-faced bronze helmet, tarnished and dull and the helm bore no special markings or patterns. The old piece of armor seemed nothing more than an old, albeit serviceable, helm. Durhit gestured for me to try it on, and I obliged him. Undoubtedly, I must have looked a little foolish, clad in nothing but slave linens and a simple bronze helmet, but my limited knowledge of warfare had taught me that protecting the head was of the utmost importance. To my recollection, the helmet was the first piece of armor that any soldier worth their salt would invest in. The leather straps had long since rotted away, making the helm feel loose on my head, but it was certainly better than nothing. Continuing our search through the rubble, I stumbled upon an iron spear lying next to an almost fully intact skeleton. The spear had seen better days, its diamond-shaped spearhead pitted with rust and corrosion. Kidu cast envious glances at the weapon, clearly longing to wield it. I had hoped for a more formidable weapon than my reliable pickaxe, which, despite its power, was difficult to handle in combat. Nevertheless, I yielded to Kidu''s evident fascination with the spear and handed it to him. After all, he probably had more expertise in wielding it than I did, and with his massive frame, his reach would be lethal. In a gesture of appreciation, Kidu handed me a pair of surprisingly well-preserved leather gloves. I donned them, feeling a slight loss of Dexterity, but knowing it would have little impact on my combat style. After all, the pickaxe was not the most subtle of weapons. The Rogue had discovered a pouch filled with small copper coins. Despite the fact that there was nowhere to spend the money, we agreed to split it among ourselves. Much to Elwin¡¯s chagrin, we each ended up with ten copper pieces. Durhit skillfully fashioned basic money bags out of scraps of torn, formerly colorful fabric that lay strewn about. Over Elwin''s weakening protestations, the dwarf handed a pouch filled with the coins to each of us. Realizing that any further time spent searching through the rubbish den would be a waste, we clambered out and cautiously made our way back to the main shaft. We continued down the tunnel as stealthily as possible. Holding his new iron spear with both hands as a precaution against potential dangers, Kidu placed himself at our van. Slipping further down into the tunnels, we stumbled upon the broken bodies of drones. Among the corpses, we noticed a larger, more menacing version of the Echo-Stalkers. These mutilated bodies had thicker, more heavily armored chitin carapaces with larger extra vicious scythe blades for their weapon arms. Some of the corpses were almost torn in two, while others had their skulls completely crushed by what must have been extreme blunt-force trauma. In the gloom, Elwin uttered, ¡°What sort of creature could have done this?¡± as he visibly gulped. Book 1: Loss ¡°There is always sun above the darkest of storm clouds.¡± - a saying from the Avian Guard. ¡°Only one thing could be responsible for this whirlwind of destruction¡­an orc in heat¡­ gone berserk,¡± the dwarf answered stoically in response, ¡°Combine that with the pain from the collar, and you have a recipe for a natural disaster.¡± Remembering the orc¡¯s hulking physique and brutish appearance, it came as no surprise that he could wreak such destruction. I did not know what I feared the most, coming into contact with more Echo-Stalkers, or reuniting with our fearsome former team member. Still, we were fortunate that the berserker had cleared the way for us. As we walked down the path, Durhit raised a hand to signal us to stop as we reached the entrance of another perfectly round tunnel. He sniffed the air and pressed his ear to the wall. ¡°Running water, and close,¡± he stated matter-of-factly, gesturing towards the new path. ¡°Move quietly. Perhaps we can sneak by while the hive is distracted.¡± Similar to the main shaft, broken bodies of Echo-Stalkers lined this new path at almost uniform intervals. We passed by the shattered shaft and the head of a pickaxe, both halves of the tool buried in separate bodies that still oozed fresh ichor. The trail of destruction left behind by the maddened orc was impressive. Following the breadcrumb trail of death, and Durhit''s unerring sense of direction, we navigated through the network of tunnels as quickly and quietly as possible in the gloom. Sometimes the dwarf led us downwards, but more often now he guided us in a slight ascent through abundant twists and turns. We continued without incident until we finally heard the sound of free-flowing water, confirming the dwarf''s prediction. Excitement coursed through us, and we picked up our pace, abandoning the last vestiges of stealth as we powered down the tunnel. Just as we turned the corner of the tunnel, we suddenly ran into two more Drones and a new larger, more heavily armored, and dangerous type of foe. I quickly dubbed this new enemy the "Soldier" variant, and it bristled with a cold threat as it gazed at us with its unfeeling, arachnid eyes. They raised their deadly weapon arms and threatened us with death with their rapidly clicking mandibles. The man-mountain Kidu needed no prompting and rushed our new enemies. He thrust his iron spear into the larger Soldier Echo-Stalker before it could even mount a defense, stabbing it deeply. Momentarily distracted by Kidu''s martial prowess, I almost allowed one of the drones to stab me in the chest. Luckily, I was able to dodge at the last moment. The chains at my wrists and ankles jangled as I turned a potentially lethal strike into just a glancing one. Still, my health was reduced by a full twenty-three points. Capitalizing on the glancing strike that left it now open, Durhit smashed it with his mining tool and gouged a great wound down its trunk with a mighty blow. Recovering from my shock, I swung my own pickaxe in a rough upwards strike that brained the insect, the point of my tool firmly lodged in its cranium.
You have slain an Echo-Stalker 30 experience gained.
Mentally brushing aside the notification, I saw that Durhit had moved to help Kidu. The Hunter was still dueling with the weakened yet still extremely dangerous Soldier, his spear striking out like a darting snake while Durhit added a few attacks of his own to give him some openings. I turned to see if Elwin needed any help, but he already had the situation well in hand. His opponent was bleeding from a multitude of wounds across its limbs, with one weapon arm drooping weakly as Elwin danced around it. The Drone''s antennae seemed to be following the Rogue''s knife as he passed it from hand to hand. Seeing it distracted, and wanting a slice of the experience, I raised my pickaxe. I smashed into it from behind with all my might with a Power Strike, which ended its life instantly and another notification crossed my vision.
You have slain an Echo-Stalker 30 experience gained. You have gained 1 Dexterity.
Taking a quick breath, I turned to see what had become of Kidu and Durhit''s fight but was disappointed to see that they had already put down the savage beast. Feeling a little frustrated, I absently kicked a loose stone on the floor. I was just a few points away from my next level. Kidu bent down to rip out the beast''s impressive scythe arms as another battle trophy, only to stop when the sound of further fighting drifted from down the path. A bestial roar of fury and frustrated rage could be heard. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. "Don''t you be telling me now that is our next destination?" Elwin began weakly, looking a little paler even in the gloom. "The sound of running water is coming down from there, so that is where we must be going, manling. Let''s just pray to the Earth Mother and all the gods of the hearth that the orc can distract them for a little while longer," the dwarf replied grimly. Faster we journeyed down our path until we could clearly hear the swift-flowing water and the sound of battle that was joining it. We continued past a corner to see that we had come to a cliff path, and a small dark river was running swiftly below us in a vast cavern that reached to an unending darkness. To our left, I could feel a weak breeze and taste the fresh air. But higher up along the path to our right, we saw a most impressive sight. The lone orc juggernaut was frothing at the mouth as he battled an entire hive of Echo-Stalkers on the ledge and his great bestial war cries drowned out the sound of the rushing river. He held a pickaxe in his right hand that cut through rigid chitinous armor like it was paper. In his left hand, he clasped a ripped-off scythe arm from a Soldier, which he used to stab with lightning quickness at the never-ending horde of insectile monsters. He relentlessly smashed them left and right, causing many of them to plunge to their deaths in the swift current below. ¡°That way!¡± hissed Durhit, pointing emphatically to our left, ¡°Go! Go!!¡± Just as we passed Durhit, a dark shape dropped from the ceiling, its chameleonic skin making it almost invisible in the gloom. It planted two sharpened scythe blades through Durhit¡¯s chest that burst out the other side. His eyes widened in shock and pain as he started coughing up blood. With a great snarl, Kidu thrust his spear with both hands at the new monster, striking it squarely where its neck should be and twisting savagely as dark viscera exploded from its new wound. Despite its hideous wound, the monster was still standing and fending off the rest of the Hunter¡¯s strikes. "No! No! No! No!" I screamed in rage and loss. Durhit was one of my first friends and companions in this cruel, barbaric world. Memories of our shared comradeship flashed across my mind as I raised my hand to strike out at the monster. I swung a wild horizontal attack that connected solidly with its thorax, the chains at my wrists hitting it a moment later. The blow was so powerful that it smashed the creature aside, even as Durhit toppled to the ground.
You have slain an Echo-Stalker 30 experience gained. You have learned Flails (lvl.1)
I barely registered the death notification as I rushed to hold Durhit in my arms, all thoughts of the battle lost with my friend dying. I tried to summon a Heal spell, but with Mana being so perilously low, it would not heed my call. Hollowly, I read the notifications looking for a way to save the Dwarf. I found nothing, except for the fact that this game had counted the chains of my slavery as flails. ¡°My sister Evenes... Bronzegate Hold... tell her¡­¡± the dwarf gasped his last through bloodstained lips. Someone began shouting in my ear. Feeling numb and empty, I almost ignored it, but the voice was persistent. ¡°We¡¯ve got to go NOW!¡± Elwin yelled in my ear, attempting to drag me up, while Kidu stood guard over Durhit¡¯s corpse. Stumbling to my feet, I gently released Durhit, only to notice that the Echo-Stalkers had redoubled their assault. Some of them had climbed up the walls past the orc, only to be met in turn by Kidu¡¯s swift spear, which skewered them against the cavern rock. Slowly, we began our fighting retreat, with the wildman taking up the rearguard. In a fit of rage and frustration, I cast Rust on the orc¡¯s collar as a parting gift to let the last few moments of its life be that of a free creature. Luckily, I was in range, dark whispers barely audible to me the magic took hold. I could barely feel the unwholesome energies as I released the spell¡¯s black lightning into the orc¡¯s slave collar. This only incensed the creature to further heights of rage, its bestial roars echoing throughout the cavern, stunning the Echo-Stalkers in front of it with its intensity. Whether it was the adrenaline, my high Constitution, my new skill Mana Regeneration, or simply my inability at that moment to feel, I did not notice the usual wave of fatigue that came with reaching zero Mana. All thoughts of fighting left us then. Clutching our weapons tightly, we beat a hasty retreat. I held my helmet to my head and my pickaxe in my other hand as we sprinted at full speed through the cavern, following the ledge and the course of the river below. The darkness of the cavern began to lighten, and we eventually burst out into glorious sunlight that almost blinded us after what felt like an eternity of darkness and blue gloom. The river fell from the cliff in a cascading waterfall that fed into a large lake. We all skidded to a stop to avoid falling off before we noticed an animal trail that cut down across the cliffs and into the woods. As I stepped out of the cavern, a notification appeared that brought hot tears of joy and grief to my eyes.
Quest Complete: Escape from the Slavery Pits of Ansan
Book 1: Divine Grace Though a small nation, it was a country of free thinkers. A nation where great strides had been made in the fields of magic. Even so, their mages, who were growing fewer in number, could not protect them from the constant barrage from the skies. Desperate, the Republic sanctioned the use of a newly researched form of magic that combined dark and life energies in an aberration of the natural order. Necromancy, the art of raising the dead and bringing them back in some corrupted form of unlife. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC.
400 experience gained. You have gained 1 Luck. You have reached level 9. 6 unassigned attribute points. 2 unassigned skill points.
As we ran down the animal trail, I quickly put all my unassigned attribute points into Constitution, which raised my maximum Health to a lofty two hundred and sixteen points. My two unassigned skill points would prove to be a trickier proposition. I tried to allocate both points to Heal but was met instead with three choices from the UI.
Purify Holy Aura Greater Heal
I had no idea what Holy Aura would do, and with the timer ticking down, I made a snap decision and chose to put a single point in both Purify and Greater Heal. As soon as I made my choice, time seemed to stop, flowing at almost a hundredth of normal speed, to my perception. Voices of angels rose, singing righteous hymns of blessing and redemption in perfect harmony and counterpoint to one another. My mind was filled with visions of winged beings guiding those at death¡¯s door back to the world of the living. Next, I was to be blessed with a new vision of a man in long white flowing robes, trimmed with gold. He was crowned with what looked like a bishop''s miter, and was giving a benediction to the sick, soft golden light weaving among their number and cleansing them of their ailments. The same man again, this time clad head to foot in heavy armor, with a heavy mace in one hand and a white heater shield in another, was wading through a sea of undead. The same golden light that cleansed the sick now unraveled the necromantic energies that bound them to this world. As time finally started to flow back to the real, I understood in my gut the purpose of these visions. It was this world¡¯s way of explaining the use of the spells I was gaining. Finally, I was beginning to make some sense of the esoteric nature of this world. Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed when Kidu touched my shoulder, urging me forward along the trail down. I looked into his eyes and nodded, now fully returned to the present. ¡°Come on ladies! Let¡¯s get out of here!¡± shouted Elwin, a note of panic in his voice. We ran as fast as we could, going down the narrow trail, almost killing ourselves in our haste. Finally, we made it down to the lake into which the underground river was flowing. We took some time to regain our breath and drank deeply of the ice-cool waters. I then received a notice that both elated and filled me with dread.
You have slain an Orc 437 experience gained.
¡°Gather yourselves, we need to go soon. The orc is dead,¡± I said, with as much seriousness as I could. Almost gulping at my slip, I noticed the eyes of my companions looking at me questioningly. Luckily, I was saved from further inquiry as they just shrugged, probably thinking I had simply made a grammatical mistake as more pressing concerns weighed upon them. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
You have reached level 10. 3 unassigned attribute points. 1 unassigned skill point.
Even as I was telling them of the death of the orc, I was already assigning the points. Rust had all but saved my life in the slave pits, but I decided not to spend the skill point on it. My newly acquired spells were all still level one and should be easy to raise to at least level two through practice. Durhit¡¯s death had taught me a valuable yet painful lesson in resource management, so I allocated the bonus point to Mana Regeneration in the hopes that it would also allow me to cast more spells outside of resting. To add a little more punch to my ¡®build¡¯, I placed all of my attribute points into Strength. Snapping back my attention to my companions, I noticed that, to their credit, they had not panicked. With almost military efficiency, Kidu quickly filled up our canteens with water while Elwin stopped to drink directly from the river. Soon enough, we started running once more through the woods, parallel to the course of the flowing water. As we ran along the banks, we saw large silvery willows growing along the banks, swaying softly at the water''s edge. Our passing disturbed the wildlife, causing brightly colored waterbirds to burst from the rushes. Further along, we came across a family of otter-like creatures. The animals were perhaps half a meter in length, each with six legs, basking in the afternoon sun along the warm banks of the river. They slipped quickly into the running water as we passed, chittering at us in annoyance. We kept running until a tributary joined the river we were following. Kidu advised that we should cross, in an effort to hopefully shake off further pursuit. With no reason to question his advice, we forded at a shallow area, all of us floundering against the swift current. Exhausted, we finally waded onto the opposite bank. In the distance, we could see thin columns of rising smoke. With no better options, we decided among ourselves that it would be as good a direction as any. Slowly, as we penetrated deeper into the woods, the deciduous earth-like trees gave way to veritable giants to which I could draw no real comparison. Huge sequoia-like trees rose like towers questing towards the sky, dwarfing their smaller cousins. Their branches created such a thick canopy that they darkened everything beneath, casting a cool pall on the forest floor. The underbrush was less thick here, allowing us to make greater speed. Up above us, birds fluttered among the great boughs in a riot of color, their musical songs competing with one another in a symphony of nature. Looking up from beneath the branches, I saw creatures running across the massive limbs of the trees and lithely jumping from branch to branch, some even sporting three sets of limbs. There seemed to be a whole world filled with life above us, but I was the only one of my companions to be taken in by the wonder. Slowing to a fast jog and noticing my look of wonderment, Elwin asked me, in more of a statement than a question, "First time seeing the Sainba?¡± He drew a deep breath before continuing. ¡°I was lost for words too when I came down here once with a caravan in my youth. Don¡¯t have trees like that back home, do you?¡± ¡°No, we don¡¯t,¡± I answered lamely, still gawking at the forest vista, ¡°...I mean I don¡¯t remember.¡± At that moment Kidu signaled to stop. We were standing just before strange-looking green growth that covered a thick root of one of the giant trees. Wide-bladed leaves in differing shades of green spread out from the base of the plant. The most impressive feature, however, was its great spikey open flowers. Like giant maws colored in a delicate pink, they rested on thin stalks of viridian, resembling an enormous venus flytrap. Cutting himself slightly with the blade of his spear, Kidu smeared a few drops of blood onto a twig that he picked from the forest floor. He then threw the bloodied twig casually at one of the open traps. The rapacious maw launched itself energetically, snapping shut with great force and swallowing the twig. He repeated this until all of the vicious traps were closed, after which he walked up to the plant and cut the flowers from the stalk. Picking up one of them, he opened it up before us, ripping it in two halves and removing the stuck twig. He offered Elwin and me one of the halves each. ¡°Sweet and good eating on these. Snap-Honey,¡± he said simply, gesturing for us to take a bite, before turning back to gather the rest of the heads. With some trepidation, I took a bite, my hunger winning over hesitation. An explosion of sweetness filled my mouth, and greedily I took another taste. The flavor was somewhere between wild honey and watermelon, and I ate it all with gusto, leaving only the inedible spikes. This was the first delicious food I had eaten since coming into this world, and it was my first meal as a free man since I won my freedom. It appeared that Elwin shared my enthusiasm, as he had thoroughly ravaged his portion and was making his way to help Kidu collect the other heads. Oddly, when I had finished eating and made to join them, I noticed that my Health had increased by a few points. ¡°I think it best that we make camp for the night,¡± the Hunter said as he scanned the forest with his icy blue eyes. ¡°If they come this far, best we are rested. I¡¯ll take the first watch so you can both regain your wind,¡± he finished as he sat against one of the great roots, his spear resting across his knees. The feral man looked positively in his element. ¡°Much appreciated, Kidu,¡± I said, giving a nod in thanks that was mimicked by Elwin as we settled down into the softness of the moss-covered forest floor. Finding a comfortable position, I removed my bronze helm from my head, and placed it on the ground next to me. I closed my eyes but for a moment before falling into a deep sleep. From the darkness of my subconscious, I saw my fallen dwarven friend glowering at me with eyes filled with anger. The stout dwarf seemed to be screaming accusations at me, his mouth moving in a storm of silence. Suddenly, he was consumed by a seething mass of tentacled shadows. Just before he was completely devoured, his face broke free from the living darkness and I could hear only two words. ¡°Bronzegate¡­ Evenes.¡± Book 1: The Power to Choose A lucky ballista bolt, shot from atop one of the border forts, was able to fell one of the lesser dragons from the sky, having pierced through its heart. Forged with all Arastia¡¯s arcane might, the bespelled adamantine tip was able to punch through inches of rock-hard scale and thick muscle. The mages of the Republic, ecstatic, having acquired a vessel of indomitable power, poured all of their magical might into the dragon¡¯s now still corpse. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. It began with the usual dark dreams, but soon I felt a shift in my dreamscape. The scenes of violence and promised pain changed with a jarring, shifting sensation. There was now a dusty attic or storage room, strewn with a variety of objects and artifacts. They ranged from the unremarkable, like a baker¡¯s pin or a sewing kit, to exotic-looking lamps and fabulous weapons. I knew then that this was not part of a dream, but some sort of vision sent by this world. Cobwebs clung to each side of the room, and a thin layer of gossamer gray dust coated everything. The dusty walls seemed to be made from an off-white wattle and daub, with wooden supports running through them. Mold and mildew could be seen in the corners. The room seemed a little drained of color, as if it had been bleached out. Yet the items strewn about drew the eye in disconcerting ways. Somehow, I just knew the objects in this room were of great significance. My hand was drawn to an iron dagger with short, upturned quillons, rusted and pitted with grime. I knelt before it, seeking to understand the question that it posed. Hovering just above it, I then saw a message.
Assassin.
No, this was not for me. Though the thought of becoming a shadowy individual, flitting across the rooftops, and silently eliminating his target, did hold a certain adolescent appeal, it was not the choice I would make. An assassin was a mere tool, a blade directed by another¡¯s hand. My thoughts roamed, for no discernable reason, to my last faithful dog, Shadow, who had passed away the year before last. My pet had been a wonderful companion who somehow always knew how to lift my spirits. My focus was shifted by the dream, and I saw then, in the corner of my eye, a large worn leather collar studded with iron spikes. I went to see what choice this item would offer. Moving to grasp it, I stopped my hand just above it as a new message came to me in the same manner as the dagger.
Beast Tamer.
Interesting, I thought to myself. The idea of taming great beasts seemed a tantalizing one. But with no idea how to go about doing so, or the dangers involved with the profession, I decided to reject the offer. Taming a wild creature was only half the battle. After all, there was the care and upkeep, which was a lifetime commitment. I simply did not have it in me to make the emotional investment, nor could I see how this choice would help me in my current circumstances. Though, idly, I did ponder whether it was possible to tame an Echo Stalker... I needed something more practical, with a bit more punch. As these very thoughts came to my mind, I found myself treading across cobwebs and dust in the dream. My attention was drawn to a pair of gloves. They were a pair of leather fighting gloves, stained and cracked with age, with vicious hobbed metal plates at the knuckles. I moved my hand cautiously towards them to see what choice the item represented.
Pugilist.
In many games the Pugilist or ¡®Monk¡¯ classes were popular and valid choices, but why on earth would anyone actually choose to fight monsters and other evil creatures with just their fists? Surely, any weapon would be better than almost nothing at all? Supposedly they could improve their bodies to reach near superhuman heights, but I simply could not risk it. Yes, if this was all just a game I would be tempted, but this was not the time for idle experimentation. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I wandered across the room, my hands questing here and there, and I almost grasped the scabbard of what looked like a longsword. The scabbard had intricate floral patterns of spiked vines and alien flowers running along its length, faded and dull from the passage of time.
Warrior.
Far too pedestrian. I could admire the romance of following the path of the sword. However, in a world of swords and sorcery, choosing just to wave about a metal stick, no matter how skillfully, seemed rather banal. It was like choosing to eat at a familiar fast-food chain after flying to a faraway and exotic location. A waste. Why just use a long sharp stick when in this world magic seemed to be the equivalent of having a gun? Besides, I needed something that could leverage my magical abilities. Gun¡­ something about that word sparked something in my mind, before swiftly fading into the haze of the dream. As my feet took me to my next destination in the room, I wondered just how many choices were here before me. Was I allowed to return to a previous choice? These thoughts floated around my mind as I scanned the room, which I still couldn¡¯t quite place the size of. Small, yet large. Glancing down I saw a long wooden rod before me, tipped with a cracked and broken amber gem. Its luster was dull and muted. Around the tip, and just below the gem, bronze copper rings wound themselves loosely around the haft. What was this? I wondered, as I knelt in the dust to get closer to the item.
Mage.
This was more like it. Being a specialized magic user certainly held great appeal. It would significantly boost my prowess, allowing me to deal damage through esoteric means. But my stats, as I remembered them, were geared more towards that of a ¡®tank¡¯ or ¡®warrior¡¯ build, with most of my focus on my Constitution and Strength. Also, the survivability of the Mage class was a consideration I had to contend with. In this savage and brutal world, I needed to be able to protect myself as much as possible. Was it Elwin who once remarked that Mages could be killed with simple arrows if they were not careful? Or was that a memory from a previous life? Regretfully I had to reject this choice, as I needed a lot more durability and a boost to my healing spells if possible. Something began to pull at me, almost incessant in its force, persuading me to rise once more. Slowly, as if the flow of time itself had grown sluggish, I began to walk mechanically to my next goal. A lone chair sat in a forgotten corner of the strange room with a drab gray dust cover draped across its back. As I moved closer, I could see on the seat of the chair a tarnished silver medallion with delicate links for a chain. Small gems framed the noble profile of a veiled woman etched at the center of its surface. Like the coins of this world, the face was looking to the left. Even before the message played across my thoughts, I had already begun to place the medallion around my neck.
Paladin.
Laughing a little, I couldn¡¯t help but realize that somehow this room was reacting to my thoughts. Perfect for me, I concluded to myself as the dull metal settled around me. Its luster started to return as it became warm to the touch. A Paladin, a knightly champion and protector of the weak. In modern gaming representation, the Paladin was depicted as a warrior in heavy armor who was both capable in the press of the melee and had the capacity to cast healing spells and blessings. This was exactly what I needed. The room¡¯s grip on me began to fade, my environment becoming increasingly blurry as the last whispers of the dream began to slip away. Just as I thought I would begin my journey back to wakefulness, my left hand reached out to a black oily puddle, moving like a marionette against my will. A thin layer of gray dust coated the puddle¡¯s dark surface, and its forced invitation was the empty void. As my hand grew closer to the dark liquid night, a new message filled me with horror and existential dread.
Reaver.
Sharp tentacles flew from the puddle, growing in length and piercing my hand with a cold fire that burned through me and eviscerated all resistance. I could see black tendrils of darkness wriggle their way just under my skin, working a path of agony up through my arm and to the rest of my body. At last, one of the questing tendrils of solid shadow found my heart. I felt a great lurch, as if falling from a great height, as the oily dark continued to ravage my very being. The wracking assault on my body and the thorough violation of my soul was an exquisite lesson in pain. I began to scream, still trapped in the haze of the dream. Book 1: Blessings & Curses [Part 1] Slowly, like a grave flower blossoming, the dark energies flowed into the great lizard¡¯s cadaver, sloughing rotting flesh from thick pristine white dragon bone. A new nightmare was born, arising with it the stench of a freshly turned grave and all the majesty of the winged tyrants of the sky. The first Bone-Dragon Vizzeks came into existence with a roar and the howl of a thousand lost tortured souls. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. Kidu was shaking me, worry and concern etched onto his features, as Elwin hovered overhead. I was greeted by a plethora of messages and notifications which followed me from my dream. Somehow, I knew this was a crucial moment for me. The dream had been the stage for my first class change in this game.
You have selected Paladin as your calling. You have learned Purify (lvl.2) You have learned Holy Aura (lvl.1) You have learned Maces (lvl.1) You have learned Shields (lvl.1) You have learned Medium Armor (lvl.1) You have learned Heavy Armor (lvl.1) You have gained Gift - Mark of the Paladin. You have gained 2 Wisdom. You have selected Reaver as your calling. You have learned Rust (lvl.3) You have learned Decay (lvl.1) You have learned Drain (lvl.1) You have learned Entropic Aura (lvl.1) You have learned Axes (lvl.1) You have learned Pain Nullification (lvl.2) You have gained Gift - Touch of the Void. You have lost 3 Strength. You have lost 3 Constitution.
The flood of messages threatened to overwhelm my short-term memory. My thoughts were distracted by the sounds of the forest; unknown animals calling out to each other, hunting each other, mating with each other. With a hoarse voice, I responded to the awakening, ¡°Give me a moment, I need to gather myself.¡± I sat up and took a few seconds to sort through my thoughts and take in the notifications. Night had fallen and Kidu, by some miracle or dent of his wilderness survival skills, had started a fire from the fallen branches that had carpeted the forest floor. Elwin was scanning the forest, wary that my screams may have brought something down to our camp. Kidu, satisfied that I was alright, went back to tending the fire while munching on another of the carnivorous Snap-Honey heads. Taking a deep breath, I decided to review my situation. The first thing I noticed was, mercifully, that I was at full Health, Stamina, and Mana after my rest. Fresh and ready to tackle the threats this cruel world would undoubtedly throw at me.
STATUS
Calling: Gilgamesh Level 10 Paladin of Avaria / Reaver Strength: 22 Dexterity: 16 Constitution: 34 Intelligence: 18 Wisdom: 16 Charisma: 10 Luck: 15
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Pain Nullification (lvl.2) Power Strike (lvl.2) 10 Endure (lvl.3) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.3) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.3) Polearms (lvl.2) Dual Wield (lvl.1) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) Mining (lvl.2) Unarmed Combat (lvl.3) Hammers (lvl.2) Flails (lvl.1) Maces (lvl.1) Shields (lvl.1) Medium Armor (lvl.1) Heavy Armor (lvl.1) Axes (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) 5 Rust (lvl.3) 2 Identify (lvl.2) 1 Silent Casting (lvl.1) Mana Regeneration (lvl.2) Purify (lvl.2) 3 Greater Heal (lvl.1) Holy Aura (lvl.1) 2 Decay (lvl.1) Drain (lvl.1) Entropic Aura (lvl.1)
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% to all starting attributes. Mark of the Paladin: 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical. Touch of the Void: 10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects.
Experience to next level: 2107/2583
Health: 225/225 Stamina: 53/53 Mana: 13/13
With the sudden addition of my new skills and proficiencies, my character sheet had started to become cluttered. Also, in a strange, yet wholly welcome change, spells and abilities that I had cast or used before now displayed their Mana or Stamina points cost on my character sheet. I noticed too that my Gifts had an explanation detailing their effects. I was puzzled as to why now, of all times, my UI had changed. Also, I questioned why I had not received any visions to give some explanation for my new spells¡¯ functions. Perhaps it was because they were part of my Calling or class choice already? Very unhelpful, I mentally complained to myself. However, most disturbing of all was the fact I had lost the equivalent of two levels¡¯ worth of attribute points in Strength and Constitution. At a loss, I looked once more at my character sheet and saw that the Reaver class had been forced upon me. This was, if the pain I suffered in the dream was any clue, the reason for the reduction in my attribute points. This had the unfortunate knock-on effect of lowering my overall Health and Stamina. The silver lining was the two new points of Wisdom from Paladin, which provided an extra point in Mana. I would also have to pay more attention to the gains in my ¡®secondary¡¯ attributes such as Charisma and Luck. Somewhere along the way, I had stopped my mental tally of them. I had no way to measure their effect on my ¡®character,¡¯ and I had only so much mental resource to spare on worrying about tertiary attributes. How did Luck even work? Would the universe bend itself slightly to suit my needs at high levels? Or did it just do something boring, like only work on critical hits? The new skills and magic spells were welcome, but I could not deny that I felt a certain trepidation at the thought of trying them. The mentally unsettling effects of executing the Rust spell were still at the forefront of my mind. Too many thoughts and questions spun around in my mind. Faced with yet more conundrums, my mind began to wander down the rutted path of an unrelated tangent. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to focus. Staring out into the distance, I ruminated on ways to test my new magic. I decided that it would be wisest to first inform my companions about the latest developments. ¡°The gods have gifted me with new powers,¡± I stated suddenly without preamble. Kidu gave me a knowing nod and smile, before intoning solemnly, ¡°The gods often grant their favor after overcoming great trials. I, too, have felt their touch after our escape.¡± Elwin, on the other hand, simply raised an eyebrow, intrigued no doubt, but willing to hold off his questions until later. Truthfully, I had no idea what Kidu was talking about. Perhaps this was the Hunter¡¯s way of interpreting a level up and increase in power; he had, after all, cut a bloody swathe during our escape. ¡°I would like to test out one of the spells. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s an offensive spell, but I don''t exactly know what it does...¡± I said in a tone that inspired little confidence in my companions. ¡°Do what you must, we will help you observe,¡± said Kidu in his gruff voice. ¡°I think I am going to move a bit further back...¡± Elwin said as he inched away from the crackling fire. Book 1: Blessings & Curses [Part 2] However, waving my hand in a set of arcane motions I had already begun casting Holy Aura before Elwin could finish his retreat. I had decided against using the Silent Cast in conjunction with the spell, to establish a baseline for the ¡®normal¡¯ way of casting the magic. My fingers traced strange patterns in the air and my voice started to chant a language I had never heard before. As I incanted the words, I noticed that there was a slight echo, as if another being was chanting alongside me. As my chant reached a crescendo, I uttered, "Holy Aura," and a single pulse of golden light expanded away from me, its epicenter. The immediate area around us was bathed in its light. Then the light finally settled around us as if it were warding us against the darkness. Kidu and Elwin both held up their hands to inspect the golden light that had surrounded, then wrapped itself, around them. They looked incredulously as it played in intricate arcane patterns all about us. Then a small shock hit me as I looked closely at my Status bars. The spell had used two Mana, and my maximum Mana had also dropped by two. Quickly, I stopped the Aura spell, and the golden glow softly disappeared. My companions spun around, as if trying to determine to where the golden light was retreating. With a sigh of relief, I saw that my maximum Mana had risen again to thirteen, but my current Mana remained at eleven. Intriguing, I thought to myself. What would happen if I tried to cast the spell again? Kidu and Elwin looked distracted by the disappearance of the miraculous light. Seeing this and deciding that it was better to beg for forgiveness rather than to seek approval, I decided to cast the Aura spell once again. This time I invoked the spell while using my Silent Cast skill. I could feel a sense of resistance now, similar to a recalcitrant child going against their parent¡¯s wishes. It took a long while, perhaps six to eight seconds, before I could complete the spell and a golden ambience bathed us once more. It certainly took a lot longer to cast without the somatic component of the spell and, mentally, it was a lot more draining. Looking at my Status, I could see now that both current Mana had dropped a further two points to nine, and my maximum Mana had again dropped back down to eleven. I gave a silent prayer of thanks, to no god in particular, that I had not damaged my Mana reserves permanently. ¡°Do you feel any different? Anything at all?¡± I asked my companions hesitantly. ¡°Apart from the pretty lights, nothing. Pretty impressive though. Probably could make a few copper pieces at the next mummer¡¯s faire,¡± piped Elwin, a little sarcastically. ¡°As the small one said. I am thinking that answers never come easy in the understanding of the ways of the gods,¡± retorted Kidu, ¡°Perhaps this magic is a ward against evil and misfortune?¡± Realizing that his words contained surprising insight, I nodded to him in acknowledgment. ¡°We also need to do something about these,¡± I added, holding up the remains of my chains on both wrists. Casting Rust on metal that was in contact with my skin was a painful operation I honestly did not want to repeat anytime soon. Just as I was beginning to think about how to get out of this predicament, I noticed something about Elwin and Kidu. They were now free of the manacles that had bound their wrists and ankles! ¡°Yes, about that,¡± Elwin began with a smug smile on his face, ¡°We didn¡¯t want to disturb you while you were having your beauty sleep,¡± he said, producing a thin sliver of metal out of nowhere as he walked over to me. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Kneeling before me, he began work on my bindings, popping them loose from my ankles, with dexterous ease. ¡°Strange skills for a Forester,¡± I said, looking him firmly in the eye. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I had a troubled youth,¡± he replied in an even tone, dodging the subject as deftly as he had unlocked what remained of my bindings. ¡°Now for your wrists.¡± I held out my wrists, and with an artisan''s grace, he jigged and manipulated his crude sliver of thin metal into the sockets of the manacles. He released me from the iron in a matter of seconds, tutting as he worked. Touching my now liberated wrists in confirmation, I reveled in the feeling of greater freedom, now that the metal hindrances were finally gone. ¡°Thank you, Elwin, much appreciated. You are certainly a good man to know to get out of a bind,¡± I said gratefully, testing my range of motion now that the chains and manacles were no longer there. ¡°Now if only we could do something about these collars,¡± I continued, smiling wryly as I pointed to the metal at my neck. Kidu began to raise a pickaxe in his hand, his answer to my question clear, which drew a worried glance from our Rogue. Almost jumping in surprise, I waved a hand to stop him from his obvious plan of action. Comically, this caused my loose helm to begin to slip, and I had to hold onto it to stop it from falling off. ¡°I don¡¯t think we need to resort to that just yet, I think my magic could weaken it a little more first!¡± I almost shouted. It would also be a chance to test, albeit potentially painfully, the level of control I had with my spell. ¡°Your choice.¡± He shrugged as he lay down to sleep on the green moss of the forest floor, throwing another loose branch into the crackling fire before closing his eyes. Elwin threw a worried glance at me. ¡°You¡¯re not thinking of starting off with me, are you?¡± ¡°No, Elwin. Have no fear, at least for the moment. At the very worst, the spell will simply turn your collar into hot slag. I am pretty confident I can heal you through that,¡± I said, sneaking him with a mischievous grin. ¡°Please keep an eye out in case anything goes wrong¡­ Maybe keep some water close, eh?¡± Even with a cloud of doubt staining my thoughts, I concentrated as best as I could and brought the magic to my center. I focused on trying to tamp down the dark energies, trying to resist unleashing its full power. My tongue spoke eldritch words of dark things in a language not meant for mortal tongues, and I could see Elwin looking visibly perturbed. With my mind fully engaged in staving off the stronger aspects of the spell, I had simply lacked the focus to use my Silent Casting skill. My fingers, stilting in their movement, drew esoteric symbols in the air that left traces of ozone and oily dread blackness. Even as I went through the motions of casting the spell, a small part of my mind had registered that Kidu had begun snoring already, the sounds of which would rival any great beast in a rut. Just as the spell was about to reach a crescendo of arcane power, the powers began to subside and deflate. Sensing the time was right, I released the black lightning into my collar, causing it to heat up, but not painfully so. I surmised that I had succeeded in my experiment of taming the dark alien energies, as I had only lost a single point of Mana in casting the spell. Smiling a cracked grin at the Rogue, ¡°Well, it seems that wasn¡¯t too bad. I appear to have learned how to control myself a little.¡± Elwin simply looked back quizzically at me. Straining, and failing, to look down at the collar around my neck, I waited for the roiling energies to finally subside before casting Identify on the collar to see how much damage I had inflicted on its durability.
Iron Slave Collar
Durability 258/400
Thirty-six points of durability damage. Not bad, I thought to myself. Although the level two spell did more damage, it was extremely painful and required me to spend additional Mana on healing. This was the most efficient and safest way to go. Book 1: Blessings & Curses [Part 3] I gave Elwin a thumbs-up, and I smiled from ear to ear. Elwin just looked like he had just sucked a sour plum before saying, ¡°After all this you want me to bugger myself? Can¡¯t say I can find the humor in it. There are places to go for that sort of thing.¡± ¡°No, no Elwin, that¡¯s not what I meant at all! From where I come from this is a sign of good luck...an indication of approval. You see right now I am rather pleased with myself,¡± I said, holding up both thumbs, placatingly smiling as best I could. ¡°Thought you had no memories,¡± the thief said in a slow calculating voice, before grumbling once again, ¡°Bah, for that you¡¯ll be taking next watch. Guess I¡¯ll have to be keeping another one of my eyes on you,¡± he finished, continuing to gripe as he made a bed for himself from the leaves and moss the cold forest floor. With an annoyed audible huff, he lay dawn. ¡°Of course...¡± I began before I noticed that he had already turned away. A few minutes later, he was already fast asleep, his breathing shallow and even. Adjusting the loose helmet on my head, I stared up at the dark canopy, observing only one or two twinkling lights through the thick boughs. All around me, I could hear the sounds of the forest as its denizens continued their nocturnal activities. The air was fresh and invigorating, full of the green smells of a vibrant forest, free of the stifling pollutants of my old world. Alone with my thoughts, I began to reflect on my journey so far. Thinking back to my struggles with the amphibious Bibsis, I realized just how much I had grown in power since coming to this strange new world. My time as a slave had forged my body and soul, and I was a vastly different man from when I¡¯d first arrived. I realized the innocence I once possessed was forever lost. I had killed, and more than once, at that. This was a world that demanded it, even rewarded it. I knew in my heart that this was no simple parody of a game. The scents, the sounds, the suffering; it was all too real. Yet despite all this, it was still a world that was beautifully virgin and full of wonder. I thought, too, of Earth, and of the mediocre, yet somewhat tolerable, life I had lived. Every day had been a struggle, but of a different sort. There, I had to worry if I would be able to pay the bills on time; here I had to worry if I had enough Health, Stamina, and Mana to survive the next encounter with a monstrous creature. I chuckled to myself inwardly, thinking of the situations that I once considered stressful. Here I had grown tough, but I knew I had to grow even tougher still. So, with these thoughts, a few hours were lost. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. I touched my collar, a reminder of the sights I had witnessed and the trials I had suffered. My first gift for slaying another sentient human being. This stubborn collar was just another hurdle I had to overcome. Focusing on Identify, I cast the spell on my collar once more, needing to confirm my progress from before.
Iron Slave Collar
Durability 254/400
Intriguingly, the durability had dropped another four points. Was this from general wear and tear, or was it the lingering effects of the spell? ¡®Curse¡¯ type spells in games usually took a long time to fully take effect... I had a feeling that it would do me no favors to wait, and with six points of Mana I continued to emit the weaker version of Rust onto my collar, ignoring the oily dark energies and weak whispers that followed each cast. After the fifth use of the spell, wishing to avoid reaching zero Mana, I tried to snap the tortured metal with my bare hands, grunting loudly in the effort. A familiar hand the size of ham grasped my shoulder and I turned to look at Kidu. His face was hard and unfamiliar in the dark flames, casting him as a monster, his blonde dreadlocks like a wild Medusan growth. ¡°A fine sentry you will make.¡± He laughed in a not-too-unfriendly manner. ¡°Please, let me¡­¡± His large hands reached for my neck. For a split second, I feared that he wished to end my life, and my body involuntarily stiffened. Gently, he placed his giant hands on the collar around my neck, before, with a great twist, he snapped the weakened and heavily corroded metal. It fell, broken, to the forest floor. ¡°Thank you, Kidu.¡± Awe and appreciation echoed equally in my voice at his impressive strength. ¡°Freedom is more than payment enough,¡± he said, even and stern, before laughing and slapping me on the back, ¡°But I would like to stay free for a little bit longer so I will take the next watch!¡± With the large man gesturing for me to sleep, I removed my helm and gloves, laying them down next to me before curling up into a ball. I touched where the metal once met my neck, and looked down at my wrists, now free of chains. Soon enough, sleep claimed me once again as the dark whispers followed me into her realm. Book 1: Priorities [Part 1] With the birth of the Bone Dragon, the winged Dragons were horrified and unwilling to play any further part in the campaign. With the loss of one of their number, they felt the first pangs of fear from newfound mortality. The dragons left the mortal short-lived races to their fate and flew back across the ocean to their high mountain homes. With their departure, the war began to grow into a grinding stalemate. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. The sharp call of a morning bird rang through the forest, loud and shrill, piercing the veil of dreams and waking me from my slumber. Groggily, I shook myself awake, brushing aside the cobwebs in my mind. Aside from the forest noises, the first thing I noticed upon waking was the delicious smell of something roasting on the fire. Getting to my feet, I sat down beside my companions, who were cooking a meal that looked suspiciously like gigantic insects on thin sticks. Sadly, I noticed that the pair had eaten all of the remaining sweet Snap-Honey heads. ¡°Good morning to you,¡± Elwin greeted cheerfully. I took one of the insect-sticks he offered me. Not wishing to be rude, I nodded in feigned gratitude. ¡°Much obliged,¡± I remarked, waiting for the Rogue to eat a piece of his. Elwin and Kidu both began to dig in as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Closing my eyes firmly, I hesitantly took a bite. If I could eat freshly killed amphibious fish, the Bibsis, then this should be easy. The shell was crispy, and the white flesh was soft and tender. The taste was similar to that of freshwater shellfish. Not bad, I realized, but it could do with a little seasoning. I finished the rest of my meal slower than my companions did theirs. Seeing my companions eat all the insect things, I decided to follow suit. I pretended I was simply eating soft-shell crab as I crunched into the head of the oversized bug on a stick. Calories were calories. ¡°Do you like them?¡± Kidu inquired in a voice that couldn¡¯t help but rumble. ¡°Could do with a little more punch, perhaps a little salt?¡± I said with a ghost of a smile, ¡°But this is the first breakfast I have had as a free man, and it tastes better than any meal at a king¡¯s banquet!¡± ¡°I¡¯ll drink to that,¡± added Elwin, lifting an imaginary cup in the air. ¡°Here, here!¡± I played along. ¡°What was that I just ate?¡± I inquired, curiously. ¡°A Rockcrab. A bit different from the ones in the North. North Rockcrab is better eating,¡± Kidu informed, in a matter-of-factly tone, ¡°These still not bad. Eating this reminds me of hunting with my clan.¡± ¡°The same ones that came with you from the North?¡± I said carefully, afraid that this might be a sore spot for him. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Kidu grew taciturn and withdrawn before he answered, ¡°Yes, those same who came with me, not long ago. If I can, I wish to find them and release them from their bondage. Work and pay their brand price if necessary. Or have their masters pay the blood price, if I cannot. Their families deserve to be told of their fates. But most all, my soul seeks vengeance!¡± saying the last, almost growling.
New Quest: Discover the Fate of Kidu¡¯s Companions
Both Elwin and I raised imaginary cups again as if to toast his last vow, but I had no true intention of helping an NPC in a quest that could potentially take years. How could I help others when I was struggling to just stay afloat? I had to be in a position to help myself first. Then there was the matter of who or what was giving out these ¡®Quests¡¯. Was it the fickle gods of this world? I had a feeling that this ¡®quest system¡¯ was a way for the divine forces of this world to control my actions. Also, without knowing the parameters for the quest, dismissing it was the only choice. It sounded complicated; a mission of this nature was simply too much of a commitment. This was simply the stark reality of my situation. I swore to myself that I would only accept quests that were in line with my own goals. I would not be led around by the nose. This was my game, and I would play as I liked. Truth be told, I just did not care enough about Kidu¡¯s grievances. The man was still loyal for the time being, and his strength and skill could be keys to my survival; I needed to keep him close. As this final thought crossed my mind, I swore I could see a darkness at the edge of my vision, quivering with delight. ¡°Oh, Gil, since we are on the topic of freeing friends and so forth, what are you going to do about these?¡± Elwin said, pointing to his collar, and bringing me back to the present. He had tried to say it as casually as possible, but he couldn¡¯t quite hide the eagerness in his voice. ¡°Right¡­ I¡¯ll get right on it,¡± I answered, giving the Rogue a mocking salute and raising a hand, as if to cast a spell in his direction. Casting Rust had now become a lot easier, though I still had to consciously rein in its power. I began to go through the motions of casting the spell, my tongue now more practiced in saying the eldritch words, and my gestures were more precise and fluid. I noticed, to my amusement, that Elwin still flinched at each utterance I made. Black lightning flowed from my hands to his collar. The whispers, these uninvited companions, echoed in my mind, as they always did, as the magic surged. The energies visibly ate into the metal, corroding it wherever the lightning touched. He squeezed his eyes shut, fearing the searing heat he thought was to come. Yet, unbeknownst to him, I had only cast the level one version of the spell. Looking closely at Elwin¡¯s collar, I was pleased with my handiwork. I did not need to use Identify to check the durability. I could see that the orange and red splotches, indicative of oxidization, had grown considerably and was its own testament to the effect of the spell. I turned to Kidu now and nodded at him, a gesture which he returned. He accepted the spell much more stoically than Elwin, his trust in me absolute. ¡°How many times do you have to do that, before you know...?¡± Elwin inquired. ¡°Honestly, I do not know. Casting this spell without causing harm to you is not easy. I do know that this spell significantly weakens the durability of the collar. I will continue to cast it as often as I can, whenever I can, until all of us are truly free,¡± I said flatly. The apathy in my tone was reminiscent to that of my father. The Rogue shrugged before adding with a smile, ¡°Can you do it again then...?¡± Book 1: Priorities [Part 2] In the end, I cast the weaker version of Rust two more times on both of them before we broke camp. I decided to keep more than half, the lion¡¯s share, of Mana for emergencies. I hoped that my Mana Regeneration skill would allow me to cast Rust a few more times as we moved. As we made ready to break camp, Kidu and Elwin left their chains behind. Kidu, with a mighty roar, threw the remains of his former bindings into the bushes while Elwin just let them lie next to the roots of a tree. I, on the other hand, decided to take a length with me as a reminder of the cruel and callous nature of this world. We proceeded carefully through the forest in the direction of the distant smoke. Our eyes were constantly scanning the forest and searching for new threats. An hour or two passed by, uneventfully, before the world would seek to test us again. I was talking with Elwin, fishing for more information about this world when, without warning, something hard, and moving fast, impacted against his head. It knocked him down, almost comically, to the forest floor. In those fractious first few seconds, all I could think about was that it looked like a giant wooden seed. More thuds echoed around us, and the wooden seed things continued to drop down as the branches swayed above us. Here and there, the heavy wooden balls fell from the canopy in staccato waves as a wind wove its way through the high branches. Each one a missile of death and injury. Instinctually, I thought first to run, for my own safety, but clarity intervened. I could not survive the ordeals ahead alone, and so far, Elwin had been a useful ally. With this as a priority, I quickly knelt down next to him. The Rogue¡¯s body lay prone on the ground, his chest still. I thought, almost instinctively, to perform some form of first aid before I remembered that we were in Gesthe, a land of magic. I began to invoke the magic of the Heal spell and stole a look at his bloody head. As I did so, something told me that a simple Heal spell would simply not be enough. A different spell gently whispered to me, causing threads of a new idea to lace together to form a new tapestry. A vision of an angel saving someone from death¡¯s door came to the fore of my vision with crystal clarity. Knowing what I had to do, I began to, instead, cast Greater Heal, before a giant seed impacted against my bronze helm. Shaking my head, I saw that the concussive force had caused almost twenty points of damage and probably would have completely interrupted my cast were it not for my Pain Nullification skill. Thankfully, I managed to maintain control over the divine energies and completed the spell. Today at least, I was determined to not give the Reaper his due. My voice rose in a steady cadence, sounding more like a hymn than a spell. I held my hands over Elwin¡¯s prone form and poured golden energies into the man. An echo accompanied my chanting, filling my soul with solemnity, and each syllable gave thanks to an unknown divine power. Slowly, oh so slowly, the golden light began to mend his bloody head wound. I witnessed the magic as it closed the wound, drawing back the clotting blood and bone fragments, and knitting skin together as his skull was restored to its original form. At last, the spell ended, and Elwin started to breathe evenly. Clearly alive, but still unconscious. The wind had stopped as suddenly as it had started. No more of the heavy seeds fell to the forest floor, but a pervading sense of danger remained. We had to get out of here, and fast. ¡°Kidu, we need to find somewhere safe!¡± I shouted out to the northern Hunter. He gawked at me then for a few moments, before bursting into a blaze of action, running to search for sanctuary. With Kidu gone, I was alone with Elwin and constantly looking upward, praying that the wind would not return. Luckily, Kidu came back a minute later, and between us, we dragged the unconscious Rogue to a glade. There, sunlight bathed the moss-covered forest floor where one of the mighty trees had fallen. The light was a welcome rarity in the otherwise dark forest. Bushes and plants grew in a ring around the fallen titan, all reaching upward in a race toward the sun. We went into the hollow of the gigantic tree, searching its cavernous interior first for threats. Next, we placed Elwin down, disturbing some creatures who chittered as they ran away from us. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. The three of us rested then in our safe space that smelled of earth and the slow rot of wood. Kidu looked over our new accommodation critically, as he searched for hidden danger. I was visibly shaken by the recent events in this hostile environment. The hollow must have passed some unspoken test as the Hunter grunted in satisfaction, however, all I saw was just another dank hole in a giant tree. The adrenaline rush now slowly fading, I plopped myself down next to Elwin¡¯s comatose form. In the heat of the moment, I had saved the Rogue because, overall, he added to my chances of survival. He was handy with a blade, and heavens, his class might be useful later on, but risking myself to save his life was decidedly alien to my nature. No, a hero did not just save people because they were ¡®useful¡¯! It would lessen me to think of people by just their utility. After all, Elwin was more than just an ally; he was a friend. After a while, Elwin began to stir. I wondered what sort of effect his brain being smashed in would have on his personality. Possibly an improvement, I considered, in dark jest. Just like the visions, it seemed that the spell Greater Heal really could save a person that was on Death¡¯s door. Worryingly, Kidu began to shake the convalescing Rogue. I knew from some half-remembered first-aid course that his actions were not the most appropriate thing to do at this critical moment, but I didn¡¯t quite have the mental energy to stop him. ¡°Wha...?¡± Elwin mumbled with a slurred voice and unfocused eyes. He searched around for something, or someone, familiar. ¡°Be at ease, little man, you are safe here, for the moment,¡± Kidu said brusquely, if not unkindly. ¡°The Shallow River¡­ I heard her bells¡­ they were all calling for me¡­¡± the Rogue continued ¡°Even the damn nuts in this forest are dangerous...you were hit by...a seed...or a bloody nut! What were those things!?¡± I tried to say in a serious tone, but a ghost of a hysterical giggle entered my voice from the thought of the absurdity of the situation. Luckily, neither Kidu nor Elwin noticed my faux pas. In the old world, I had heard of large spiked fruit called durian killing a few people every year; I read online that, statistically, they were more dangerous than sharks. Ah, the internet. What I would give to have access to that wealth of knowledge and entertainment. Out of the corner of my eye, I looked down at Elwin. He had torn the sleeve from his linen tunic, exposing his arm and I could see that his slave brand had disappeared. Looking closer, I saw nothing but healthy unscarred skin in the place of the brand. ¡°Kidu,¡± I hissed loudly. ¡°His arm¡­ look!¡± ¡°By the ancestor spirits, so it is!¡± Kidu exclaimed, his voice going up almost an octave in pure surprise. Could it be that the Greater Heal spell had effects other than miraculous regeneration and healing? Was Elwin¡¯s hair a little thicker, the crow¡¯s feet around his eyes a little less pronounced? I brushed these thoughts aside as I realized I had a way to remove all the marks of our slavery. Removing our slave brands through magical means would take up a lot of Mana. However, if I exploited my Rest skill to squeeze out as much Mana as possible in the shortest amount of time then the process could be significantly sped up. ¡°Kidu, I will need to rest and to regain my Mana,¡± I began, a plan of action already forming in my mind, ¡°If you can watch over us and find us something to eat, perhaps start a fire, it would be most appreciated. What was it that downed Elwin, anyway?¡± I added. ¡°That is hard task. Safeness or forage, that is a decision for you to make. As for the little man¡¯s attacker, I know not. At least with no trees above us, we should be away from those warm land nuts,¡± he then looked at me, waiting for my order. ¡°Scout out the area near us and come back when you can. I am afraid to say I know nothing of making a fire, so be quick.¡± I would have to trust that I could sleep lightly, or that Elwin would be able to come to his senses. With Elwin out of action and Kidu soon to be out scouting I needed Mana more than anything. It was a risk, but with Kidu securing the area nearby it was a risk I was willing to take. As a bonus, it might help me with power leveling my Greater Heal spell. Kidu took a quick drink from a canteen at his hip, before rising to make his way out. Before he left the hollow he nodded in my direction, ¡°Be safe and may the ancestors watch over you.¡± With that, he leapt out into the forest with his spear leading his way. I positioned myself just outside the entrance to the hollow of the tree, sitting cross-legged and willing myself into a half-doze as I attempted to clear my mind. With the sounds of the forest and worry plaguing my mind, sleep did not come easily. Book 1: Interruption [Part 1] The gods of this world are flawed, jealous, pitiful mewling creatures not worthy of our regard, let alone our worship. They toy with mortal dreams and desires to suit their whims and machinations. The Divines rage and war against each other in the ¡®Great Game¡¯, with us mortals as nothing more than their pieces, their pawns, to be moved about the board. The strongest among their servants they imbue with a portion of their divine power and enslave them to their ¡®Holy¡¯ cause. They call such blessed beings their ¡®Champions¡¯. How do I know of this? The answer is simple, for I am one such Champion and I will break their game. - A Record of Ash & Ruin by Gilgamesh of Uruk. Something was applying a sharp pressure to my arm, moving it to the left and right, up, and down in forceful motions. I opened my eyes quickly, thinking that it was Kidu trying to wake me, only to find to my horror that a beast was savaging my arm. Screaming in shock rather than in pain, I saw that it resembled a six-legged furred creature that looked like a cross between an angry wolverine and a warthog. Two forward-facing tusks continued to stab at my arm and sharp canines worried at my skin, as my Health steadily dropped. I punched the creature savagely between the eyes, striking reflexively with all my might. This just caused the beast to bite down harder, so I quickly drew upon a Power Strike, increasing the force behind my blow dramatically. It was a clean hit, forcing the creature to let go of my arm. It backed it off a few meters, its beady eyes still hungrily eyeing me as it looked me up and down. My Health had dropped below eighty percent and I was bleeding profusely. A world of agony filled my arm. Screaming again, I closed my eyes in pain, holding my bleeding arm with my other hand. It was all the opening that the creature needed; it charged me again like an enraged bull who saw the matador¡¯s cloak, almost leaping through the air with its animal speed. It slammed into me, reducing my Health even further. But its mouth, filled with jagged canines, was no longer seeking to bite me. It was then that I noticed a knife had sprouted from its neck causing blood to begin to pool around the wound. Turning around to confirm who threw the blade, I saw Elwin give a faint incorrigible smile from deeper within the hollow. Weakly, he raised his hand in a thumbs-up before blowing a raspberry in my direction. A notice filled my vision as the creature finally died.
You have slain ??? 35 experience gained. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. You have gained 1 Strength. You have gained 1 Dexterity.
¡°Another bloody¡­ What was that thing!? And thank you, thank you,¡± I said in equal parts incredulity and appreciation. Still flush with the shock of the encounter, the needs of the present forced me to quickly shove the unneeded emotion to the back of my mind. This encounter with a new monster was just another horror on a steadily growing list. To dull the pain, I decided to cast Heal. As I cast the spell on myself, I checked over my Status and was pleased to see that the recent gains to my attributes had gone a little way to mitigate my recent losses from my Reaver class. Silently, the golden energies slowly filled my arm. Pain became a distant thing as the magic soothed it away like a warm balm that banished the sharp sting and caused torn muscles, ligaments, and tendons to knit themselves back together. I marveled at the wonder playing out before me, healing on a level far beyond anything in my own world. ¡°That thing will probably make good eating,¡± the Rogue added, intruding upon my thoughts. ¡°But could you possibly be a dear and get me my knife back? I feel a little naked without it.¡± Hands still shaking a little, I gave a mocking salute and went to retrieve the weapon that just saved my life. Ripping the dagger out of the creature¡¯s neck, I took a moment to study the body. Beady eyes, now glazed in death, were set in a long bestial porcine face. But unlike a hog, it had small black whiskers, and its ears were short and triangular. From its feral mouth, two pairs of yellowed ivory tusks protruded. Its hide was a thick mottled brown, with bristly fur that was growing cooler to the touch. Three pairs of small, yet muscular, legs were tipped with claws that looked useful for both tearing at flesh and climbing trees. From its nose to its short stumpy tail, it was roughly the size of a large alligator. I doubt I could have fended off such a beast in my old world. Just as I had finished my observations, I asked Elwin, ¡°What is this creature? This is the first time I¡¯ve seen anything like it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a Tree-Laur, a juvenile male by the looks of it. Probably just left its nest a few months back. I best be about dressing the kill. Did you know that you scream like a girl?¡± Elwin jibed with an annoying sigh. I fought back a sliver of annoyance, smiling weakly in return and giving a perfunctory chuckle, before growing serious, ¡°Elwin! Thank heaven you are alive! Should you be up and about? What¡¯s my name? What¡¯s your name? How many fingers am I holding up?¡± I asked. ¡°I can remember my own name, remember your name too. The taste of my first hunt. My first lay with the village trollop too! Bah, she was a fine one. Safe to say, I¡¯m further in your debt after getting brained by a Caru nut. Forgot that they grew around these parts. ¡®When the wind blows, look up¡¯ as the saying goes. Pah, my luck¡¯s turned since I met you!¡± he laughed. His mirth was now infectious, and I joined him in it. Book 1: Interruption [Part 2]* Just as we started to laugh, our recent trial by nature bonding us in deeper camaraderie, Kidu burst into the glade, bestial and wild. He locked eyes with me and paused for a moment and, noticing the corpse with a casual glance, walked up to us. ¡°You are well I see, Elwin, Gilgamesh,¡± he said nodding to us both, kicking the corpse of the Tree-Laur absent-mindedly. ¡°It seems that things have been exciting since I was away and you saved me the trouble of hunting something down,¡± feigning annoyance in his deep voice. Kneeling down beside the corpse, he gestured for me to hand over the knife, which just drew a shrug from Elwin who was probably glad to be free of an arduous chore. He dressed our kill cleanly and efficiently, like an experienced hand who had done the same job countless times before. He separated the cuts of meat, offal, and bone onto large freshly cut green leaves. I left him to his industry as I felt a call of nature take me, and excused myself from my companions. After I returned from the bush, wishing for nothing more than the luxury of toilet paper, I saw that Kidu and Elwin, between them, had created a construct of wood and sticks to dry and smoke the meat over a crackling fire. How they started the fire was a mystery to me. I was, after all, a man of modern times and I had never undertaken such tasks in my life. Kidu was busy scraping the fat from the Tree-Laur¡¯s pelt over a broad tree root with his spearhead, while Elwin was trying to hone the edge of his knife on a stone. If we were not all escaping from a system of slavery and blind, bladed, insect-like monsters, it would have been the picture of a typical campfire scene from a cheap fantasy novel. ¡°Hey, big man! You took a long time in the bushes, was about to go track you, make sure the beasts from around these parts didn¡¯t get to you,¡± chirped Elwin, looking up from his ministrations. ¡°It¡¯s important that we keep this fire going at all times, lest wild beasts come to investigate the scent of blood. Man has taught the wild to fear fire,¡± Kidu uttered in a low worried tone, ¡°Though I fear the smoke may draw attention of a different kind.¡± I settled next to the crackling fire, too tired to notice the delicious smells of cooking meat, but feeling safe in the pair¡¯s companionship. Smiling wryly at them, I added, ¡°Let me do what I can for you both, I was never one to see a job only half done.¡± And with that I began to cast Rust again, drawing worried looks from Elwin as he closed his eyes, in a Pavlovian response to the dark words and strange mystic hand gestures that tickled at the limits of mortal comprehension. Kidu, on the other hand, continued with his work without a care, stretching out the pelt. The dark and alien energies filled me, and I resisted the urge to unleash the full power of the spell on my companions, allowing only a trickle when it demanded a flood. I could see that the roiling black lightning had eaten into their collars, no doubt weakening them, and I began to feel the effects of Mana Sickness as I bottomed out my reserves. This time, the effects were not nearly as debilitating as they were on the first try. They were now more a feeling of drowsiness with a need to rest. As my head began to fall, I murmured, ¡°I think I need to rest once more to gather my energies...so sleepy.¡± My companions both simply nodded to me. The rush of adrenaline from defending myself had long left my system and now Mana Sickness flooded into its place. I didn¡¯t even take the time to remove my helm or gloves before I faded off to sleep. My blessedly dreamless sleep was disturbed by a distant beast''s call. Almost instinctively, I checked my Status, feeling a little alarmed at how easily I had accepted the realities of this world. My situation was totally absurd with my physical condition having been reduced to measurable numbers. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. I was in peak condition, with both my physical and magical resources fully replenished. Yet, despite this, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if there was more to life than this near constant struggle. Looking around, I saw that Kidu was on watch, facing outwards from the fire, looking and listening for threats. Elwin was tucked up in a ball, sleeping quietly nearby. The big man noticed me and greeted me with a silent nod before speaking, ¡°Are you rested and well?¡± ¡°Yes, Kidu of the Three Bears. Thank you for taking this watch,¡± I said in almost mock formality. He didn¡¯t seem to notice, or simply chose to ignore my tone, before explaining, ¡°Elwin and I will take the watch tonight. This will allow you to focus your energies on restoring us,¡± pointing at his neck and slave brand. ¡°We should not let the spear plow the field. But first, you must be hungry,¡± he finished as he offered me a portion of meat wrapped in a large leaf. My stomach rumbled audibly, which drew a small laugh from the massive man. Though cold now, the meat from the Tree-Laur was delicious, if not a little tough and stringy. Several times I had to spit out small chunks of indigestible gristle. After finishing my piece, I wiped my oily hands, slick with fat and grease, on my dirty tunic before focusing on my task. With half a mind bent on procrastination, I looked around the camp to notice that Kidu had strategically placed our Zajasite stones to help dismiss some of the deeper shadows. Yet, despite these precautions, I couldn¡¯t help but feel that something sinister was watching us. I could see the wisdom behind Kidu¡¯s words. You needed to use the right person for the right job, and I had to do what only I could for our little team. Drawing upon my reserves, I cast Rust, in succession on the pair, waiting for the turbulent energies to subside between casts before repeating the spell. Eventually, Kidu sensing that his collar had weakened enough, tested his strength against the corroded metal. The collar made a great snapping sound as he twisted it off his neck, resulting in small fragments of iron flying into the night. Waking Elwin to start his shift, Kidu unceremoniously snapped off his collar, too, much to the Rogue¡¯s great surprise and jubilant appreciation. On zero Mana again, I tried to meditate to see if it could improve my Mana Regeneration skill. What surprised me was that now, even on zero Mana, I felt little of the effects of my earlier Mana Sickness. My efforts at meditation just led me to fall asleep in a seated position. The task of clearing my mind of all thoughts proved too arduous in these troubled times. Elwin awoke me a few hours later when the fire had grown low, and the forest a deeper dark. We added more fuel to the fire before he whispered in a low voice and asked me if I could repeat my magic on Kidu, freeing him from the mark of his hated bond. The man didn¡¯t need to ask twice; I was more than willing to erase all marks of our bondage. Rolling up my frayed sleeves, I decided to experiment on my other, more robust, companion. Holding my hands over a loudly snoring Kidu, I began to cast the Greater Heal spell, but this time without the singing and chanting. The magic resisted me greatly, and I had to create a mental image or construct of myself casting the spell before I could force the divine energies to come forth. In the depths of my mind, I could hear a triumphant angelic song, though it felt odd and distant casting it in this manner. The magic was slow and lethargic in emerging to do my bidding, but I was determined not to be denied. My will was iron. The golden energy flowed into the massive man, running across and all over him. I could see small scars across his face and arms that I had never noticed before fade, as the slave brand on his arm began to heal. The mark that was once an angry red grew to a healthy pink, before completely vanishing into his natural skin color. The spell had taken a long time to complete, far more lengthy than if I had cast it conventionally, but I still was able to finish it. At a rough guess, the whole process had taken over a minute or two. Would raising my Silent Casting improve the spell''s speed when cast in this way? Despite having to add another question to my growing list, I thought that, all in all, my recent experiment was a success. In the glowing firelight, I swore I could see the hint of a bearded smile on Kidu¡¯s face as he slept. Wanting to regenerate my Mana before dawn broke, I asked Elwin to continue his watch, explaining that I would need to gather myself if I was to be of more use in the morning. The Rogue nodded to me, although his attention was focused completely on sharpening the knife he acquired from the tunnels, treating it like a prized heirloom. Adding another piece of wood to the small fire, I settled down to sleep once more, waiting to face yet another day on the morrow. Book 1: Blind Faith [Part 1] The Guild in the frontier regions is nothing more than a collection of opportunistic bandits, thieves, and failed mercenaries. They deem themselves monster hunters, heroes all, and the shield of the common peasantry. But tell me this, what hero is he that would not render assistance unless compensated in coin? - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. Here, unlike the deep dark of the forest, the sun was able to filter down through the branches of the lesser trees of the glade. The call of songbirds and the annoying chirping of insects filled the morning air as the creatures of the night made good their rest. Off towards what I presumed was the west, we could just see a plume of smoke rising just above the canopy of the trees. The Rogue and the Hunter were having a meal of Tree-Laur haunch and discussing what to do next. Their discussion, more of a debate, was animated, with even the usually even-tempered Kidu showing a little anger. ¡°Morning, sleepyhead. This great big lug thinks that we should spend the rest of our lives out here in the wilderness, living off the land. I, for one, have had enough of the great outdoors. I want to actually enjoy my freedom. With your magic, we are no longer slaves! We should at least go and see whatever is causing that smoke. I¡¯ll go by myself if I have to!¡± the Rogue said emphatically. ¡°Elwin Tucker gives a plan with great risks. We are safe here, relatively so. There is sustenance in the forest if you are strong. Just a few days ago we were slaves in this land, I would not have it be so again...¡± replied the wildman, clearly looking to me for direction. I thought for a moment on both of their arguments, before adding my own opinion, ¡°Both of you make good points, though I, for one, find myself wary of further contact with the people of these lands. Still, one cannot live in the wilderness forever. We simply lack the tools and equipment to survive a winter here,¡± I paused for a moment, digesting my companion¡¯s suggestions, ¡°I say that we take the middle course and at least investigate what that smoke is together. This forest is too dangerous to traverse alone. Perhaps there will be people nearby. Perhaps they can help us. Perhaps they can not. If there are people there then it might be possible to trade for something, or if not¡­ we can take what we need,¡± I added, evenly looking them each in the eye. They both nodded in acquiescence before they began to clear up the camp. The pair stamped out the fire, collected the glowing Zajasite stones, and packed the recently smoked meat into our wicker baskets with an economy of movement that would have been impossible for me. Gripping our weapons in hand - Elwin with his knife, Kidu his spear, and I with my trusty pickaxe - we made our way through the forest toward the direction of the smoke. We left the relative safety of the glade and moved deeper into the forest. Our surroundings became steadily darker as we pushed on. The sense of things leaping overhead and looking down at us never left our consciousness. We advanced quickly, though carefully, through the massive trees and slight undergrowth of the forest, making sure to also scan for any threats from above or below. At some point in our little expedition, Kidu suddenly held up a hand and called for us to stop. We had to wait for a herd of massive deer-like creatures, perhaps twenty or so strong, to finish crossing our path. They wended their way through a trail between the giant trees like lords and ladies of the forest. They were majestic animals, almost three meters to the shoulder, heavily muscled, and their bodies were covered with soft chocolate brown fur. Atop their long graceful necks, were large heads from which four long spiked horns grew. Their eyes were large, gentle, and brown. One of the animals stopped to look in our direction, before moving off once again with the herd when the gigantic herd leader called out with an ululating cry. Pausing in wonder at what I had just witnessed, I turned to the Hunter and asked, ¡°What were those things?¡± ¡°Southern Cronir¡­ smaller than the ones up north, with an extra pair of horns. Cronir make for good eating,¡± he replied in a deep hushed voice. ¡°To you, friend, everything makes good eating, and I would not want to tussle with the big one unless I had to¡­ or was deep in the cups!¡± quipped the Rogue jovially in counterpoint, as he continued onwards. This little exchange, it seemed, was as clear a signal as any for us to continue our march through the forest. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Finally, after what seemed like an excessively long amount of time, we could start to hear the voices of real, actual people. We all swiftly crouched down, as we moved closer to the source of the smoke and sound of industry. Finding some cover, we peered through the bushes of the undergrowth and saw a small group of people undertaking a myriad of jobs in a large clearing. My eye was immediately drawn to some small mounds which had bluish smoke billowing from them. If my memories were anything to go by, the mounds could only be charcoal piles. An old memory told me that this was a sign that the wood inside was undergoing the change into charcoal. On a tangent, I remembered a lecture from a world away and softly mouthed ¡°K?hlerglaube,¡± the word for blind faith in German, which had originated from the charcoal-burner profession. In the old times, the ignorant peasants would blindly believe whatever the local priests dictated to them as they had to spend the greater part of their attention on overseeing their piles. However, unlike the medieval peasants, I had little faith in the gods, let alone their priests. I also remembered, from a distant lecture or seminar about medieval societies, that charcoal burning was seen as a lonely profession. The creation of charcoal was dirty work that needed constant supervision to ensure the wood burnt at the correct temperature. Also, they needed to make the charcoal as close as possible to where they fell the trees, which meant that the charcoal burners often lived far from the local centers of civilization. Behind the piles stood several single-story log cabins. Around the smoking mounds, men were busy adding more wood to the mounds to make more charcoal. A few of the men carried axes and heavy staves. They used these to chop up branches from the large fallen trees at the edge of the clearing or to poke holes into the charcoal piles to regulate the heat. It was a relief to note that only a few of their number carried sidearms, such as short swords or long fighting daggers. The men were clothed in brown, gray, or black long-sleeved robes that were tied at the waist with wide colorful sashes. A figure clothed in blue, in stark contrast to the other workers, and who appeared to be the leader of this encampment, barked orders at them before he, too, joined in the work. They all had the epicanthic folds of an Asiatic people, and the whole ensemble made me think of the old Mongolians of Earth. Focusing on one of the nearest workers, I silently began to cast Identify on him.
Arban Bayarsaikhan - Charcoal Burner (Human lvl.7)
Health: 75/77 Stamina: 18/28 Mana: 10 / 10
I did this again five more times, making sure to include the leader in blue. These were all the men who were in plain sight. I drew a breath of relief as I confirmed that they were all relatively low-level; with the highest among them being only level eight, and the lowest being level six. A ghost of a plan was beginning to form in my mind. Half wishing to confirm the strength of my companions against the workers and half simply for practice, I cast Identify on Kidu and Elwin.
Kidu Kreshin - Hunter - (Human lvl.12)
Health: 252/252 Stamina: 43/49 Mana: 5/5
Elwin Tucker - Rogue (Human lvl.13)
Health: 152/152 Stamina: 27/40 Mana: 10/10
Book 1: Blind Faith [Part 2] I knew it! The spell confirmed one of my sneaking suspicions that NPCs could also gain experience and level up. Kidu and Elwin had both gone up a level, and their basic parameters had improved significantly. Furthermore, it confirmed to me why some of my previous kills had given me varying amounts of experience; it had been divided up among those who had credit for the kill. I also reckoned that my group, although smaller in number, had been significantly stronger in terms of raw attributes and levels than our vanquished enemies. It was also pleasing to note that my investments in Constitution and Strength had meant that I was getting closer to Kidu in terms of raw Health and Stamina. Yet, despite this, I noted that I had seen little change to my actual physique, which I found most strange. Nor did it seem there were any other visible changes, like a growth of a beard or hair length. Shrugging these thoughts aside as extraneous, I simply attributed these quirks to part of the rules for me in this strange game-like world. Snapping out of my thoughts, I hissed to my companions, gesturing for a retreat. We moved out of sight and well out of earshot of the camp. Once we were at a safe distance, I began to tell them my plan. ¡°We observe them for the rest of the day just to make sure there are no surprises. Once we¡¯re sure of their numbers, we hit them at night, killing every single one of them,¡± I spoke in a cold voice. ¡°Not even going to talk to them? Just like that, kill a group of men minding their own business?¡± the Rogue asked, surprisingly shocked. I hadn¡¯t expected this level of empathy from him, an NPC. ¡°Where are we, Elwin? Think! We are slaves, on the run, wearing slave garments in a land whose culture is propped up by the institution of slavery. What do you honestly think would happen if we opened a line of dialogue with these savages? That they would welcome us with open arms and send us off on our way? Besides, we would lose the element of surprise,¡± I replied vehemently, before continuing my tirade, ¡°Are you stupid, Elwin? These are the people who enslaved me, enslaved you. Enslaved us. They don¡¯t see us as people. Are you so eager to face the kiss of the whip again? And you, Kidu. I thought the Three Bears were an honorable clan. Did you not promise vengeance on ALL of the Tides!?¡± I finished, my voice rising towards the end as I looked squarely at Kidu. Elwin held up two hands placatingly as Kidu rose to my provocation and added almost too eagerly, ¡°I promised vengeance on the honor of my ancestors and my friends, and it is vengeance I will have. I will never again feel the crack of the slaver''s whip against my back, nor the iron collar about my throat. If you wish to stand in the way of that...¡± growled the massive wildman at Elwin. ¡°But they outnumber us! And those weapons are real sharp-looking...¡± murmured the Rogue, uncertainty in his eyes. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ¡°We have magic, and we are all proven fighters, much stronger than just these scum,¡± I responded confidently. ¡°How do you know?¡± he hissed. I looked him carefully and evenly in the eye, ¡°I know. Trust me, I just know. The gods have told me thus.¡± Kidu seemed to accept the explanation categorically, but I could see the concern still etched in the Rogue¡¯s features. ¡°We¡¯re about to kill all of these people¡­ for what!?¡± sputtered Elwin. ¡°Because we have to! Because I say so! I will kill these savages and many more if that is what it takes to stay free. Again, Elwin, these are the people who enslaved us!¡± I repeated, which drew a rumble of approval from the Hunter. ¡°As I said, we have little choice in the matter if we want to return to civilization. It''s either this small crime of survival now or a life forever on the run! Or, worse yet, to be a meal for some monstrous creature in these gods-forsaken lands. Better to be a bandit, thief, and criminal than a slave! Rest assured, Elwin, we will do this with or without you¡­¡± Something in my last words must have struck deep within Elwin, for he was silent then. It was a stab at his past, and all the crueler for it. As I continued explaining the finer points of the plan, there were no further arguments from Elwin Tucker the Rogue. I sent Elwin to scout out the rest of the encampment, and during that time, after a light snack with Kidu of stringy dry meat, I rested to regain my Mana. Kidu had made a pair of crude weapons from the scythe-blade arms that he had ripped from the Soldier Echo-Stalker in the tunnels. The handles were made of Laur''s bone, and attached to it was strong sinew to keep the ever so slightly curved blade in place. A link from one of the chains formed a simple guard just above the hilt on both daggers to stop the hand from slipping when thrusting with the weapons. They were vicious and crude-looking tools of violence, measuring about forty or fifty centimeters from their handles to deadly tips. Kidu had also fashioned a simple hide sheath for each of them. I tested the edge of the natural blade with a finger, drawing blood and causing a single point of damage to my Health. Overall, it was impressive craftsmanship for the time given, and I wondered how this world would categorize these paired weapons in terms of Skill proficiency. Just as I had finished examining my newly made weapons and replacing my trusty pickaxe, I felt a tap on my left shoulder. Knowing this to be some sort of trick, I turned to my right and there was Elwin, freshly returned from his reconnoiter just as the sun was beginning to set. He gave us an unhappy grimace before delivering his report, ¡°Eight men in total, I think split between a day shift and a night shift. These are all free men, no slaves for some reason. No slave brands from what I saw. Though come to think of it, it would be difficult to train slaves for this kind of finicky work...¡± the Rogue began to meander before we both looked at him, ¡°...Overall though, they all seem to be lightly armed. Axes, daggers, and short sword notwithstanding.¡± Settling in behind the cover of some thick bushes a good distance from the clearing, we waited for the night¡¯s darkness to deepen. Each of us tried to ease a measure of calm into nerves fraught with tension. I gripped my twin weapons tightly in my hands, as my mind struggled with all sorts of variables and potential scenarios. This was to be different from all my fights thus far, where I had simply reacted according to circumstance. Up until now, it had always been fate that had forced my hand. This time, it would be premeditated and cold, a sensation I found both sickening and strangely thrilling. Book 1: All the Bases [Part 1] ¡®The gods give no gifts without exacting a toll¡¯. The ancient maxim rings true today even in this forsaken age. And for the practitioners of magic, the price demanded by the Divines for the loan of their power is steep indeed. As a mage''s Control over the arcane arts grows, so too does the Call - that insidious, seductive whisper that beckons them to become one with the very element they seek to master. Some would answer that Call with a pilgrimage to the water''s depths, drowning in the embrace of the element they cherished above all others. Consumed by their very passion, some would seek the ultimate heat of the flame, offering themselves up to be consumed in a fiery dance of transcendence. Still others would entomb themselves alive in the very earth they commanded, seeking to become one with its secrets. However, it is the Anemancers, the Laughing Mad, who truly dare to walk the razor''s edge of magic. They leap from great heights, bodies hurtling through the air, finally unable to resist the siren song of the wind. Madness, some call it. But to those who understand the true nature of magic, it is a sacrifice made in pursuit of the ultimate power, for not all who make the leap of faith meet their untimely end. Yet even those with the strongest wills cannot hope to escape the demands of the cosmos forever. For the path of magic is a treacherous and thorny one, and only the most resolute can hope to walk it to its conclusion. - Master Bertrand of the University of Quas. Unluckily for us, the moon was high and bright among the veil of stars and cast a silvery light. The charcoal piles continued to emit their smoke, ghostly now under the moon¡¯s pale ambience and the sleepy watch of their minders. Our group moved from the tree cover of the woods towards the edge of the clearing and noticed that a solitary man had come towards us. I stiffened, standing completely still, before checking on the position of my companions, only to see that Elwin had somehow slipped off. Perhaps the Rogue had suddenly caught a case of cold feet? The charcoal burner kept moving towards us, oblivious to our presence. As he came closer, something dark, a ghost of a shadow, fell from the trees onto him, without a sound. A glint of metal flashed in the moonlight. With Kidu, I rushed as quickly as possible the few yards toward the man to find Elwin standing over him. Blood emanated from a stab wound from the soon to be corpse¡¯s neck. Hoping that I was not too late, I also stabbed the fallen man with my makeshift weapons to ensure his demise.
You have slain a human 25 experience gained.
Thankfully, I was able to get a hit in while his heart had still been pumping blood. I smirked in the darkness, realizing that this man had been worth even less experience than Gunne. Just as I was about to discuss our next steps with our group, there was an explosion of activity from the opposite tree line, as if the man¡¯s death was some sort of trigger. Familiar silhouettes bounded across from the giant trees in great leaping strides, calling to one another in their unnatural clicking language, weapon arms raised in deadly threat. The monsters bounded in. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. A man shouted a warning to his peers, and the other men grouped up hurriedly. The sounds of alarm were repeated across the camp as the rest of the men burst from the cabins, carrying a variety of arms and lethal implements. A wave of chittering Echo-Stalkers descended upon them from the trees. Soon enough there was a melee of steel against razor-sharp claws and piercing mandibles. The sound of battle and violence filled the previously tranquil night that was once almost surreal in its beauty. Slowly, the sounds turned to shouts, then to screams of panic as the humans fought against their deadly foes. I looked at the faces of my companions, their worried expressions clear in the moon¡¯s subtle light. The initial plan had gone completely to tatters, fate¡¯s arrow once again striking against us. The Echo-stalkers were the main threat. Humans, on the other hand, could be reasoned with. Then there was the matter of Durhit. In a split second, a decision was made. It was amazing what humans did when faced with a common enemy¡­ ¡°We strike from behind and kill these Echo-Stalkers. Wait until they have all been drawn out and are fully engaged, then we hit them. Remember these men¡­ these things were responsible for Durhit, no mercy! Be ready to follow my lead!¡± I ordered as I girded my loins for battle once more. I rushed towards the fight with a lack of hesitation or fear that would have surprised my past self. The air was cool and refreshing as it brushed against my face and in that moment of frozen time, everything seemed so clear, as if my ears could distill every individual sound that cried out into the night. The insect-like Echo-Stalkers had the numbers and savage ferocity, but the charcoal burners had a surprising amount of discipline and skill as they fought back against them. Against this onslaught, the charcoal burners started to regroup after their initial shock, and they rallied around their leaders. The humans, even with their newfound discipline, were getting pushed back as the melee continued. Here, a claw would slash against exposed skin. There, a hand holding an axe or impromptu weapon would be punctured by sharp mandibles. Still, the humans were able to inflict casualties against their multi-limbed foes. For every step taken in retreat, their weapons took a terrible toll on their enemies. Judging that the charcoal burner¡¯s line had been weakened enough, I ordered my small group to charge. Our group crashed into the rear of the Echo-Stalkers, entering the chaotic melee with silent violence that belied our rage. Stabbing with both of my weapons into the hard chitinous back of one of the foul creatures, I found little resistance. A death notification of the creature floated across my vision, and I dismissed it, as my full attention was required for the remaining monsters. Since antiquity, humans had used nature¡¯s own tools against her, and I found immense joy in piercing their natural armor with their own weapons. Snarling now, like a feral creature, I dodged a barely visible slashing blow meant for my arm. The move was more of an instinctive motion than a conscious decision. Preparing to mete out some more punishment, I studied one of the creatures who darted this way and that. Its erratic motions were difficult enough to follow, let alone line up an attack. Noticing the antennae on its head were constantly pointed at me, I knew that I was the sole focus of its attention. Keeping myself out of the measure of its slashing talons, I waited for an opening. I would not have to wait long, as the insect monster bunched low before launching itself to strike, the natural blades on its arms blue in the soft moonlight. I lunged into the arc of its blow, coming beneath the creature and stabbing it with my dual blades through its chest with a Power Strike before slicing horizontally with both daggers, the blades still embedded in my opponent''s flesh, in opposite directions. Such was the force of the finishing blow that I almost bisected the creature. Somewhere in the grand melee, I could hear the charcoal burners shout out the various names of their weapon skills as they unleashed their techniques against the midnight horde. Double Strike, Rolling Chop, and a few others were among the skills that were screamed out desperately against the monsters. Book 1: All the Bases [Part 2] Suddenly, I felt a clang against my helm, almost knocking it off my head, before something sharp scraped across my shoulder blades and drew blood. Turning around with one blade outstretched to guard and the other held close, ready to stab, I saw a blurry outline that seemed to meld with the night. From its alien chittering, I deduced it to be one of the chameleonic strains of the creatures. I fell back into a desperate strategy, a whirlwind of blows to overwhelm the monster. Still new to this world, my skill would be no match against such a lithe and lightning-fast creature. Where skill failed, raw savagery would have to prevail. I could barely make its outline in the moonlit night, and each one of my strikes felt like a literal stab in the dark. Swinging with wild abandon, I continually missed the creature as it dodged and weaved, like mist in the night. Just as I was gearing up to strike out at the creature again, I was saved from the results of my reckless strategy by Elwin, who appeared, as if by magic, behind the creature, stabbing it with a precise blow to the base of its neck. Knowing better than to pause in combat, I swiftly turned on the balls of my feet, engaging a regular drone with my twin weapons against its natural armaments. I was faster, tougher, and stronger than the drone. I roared as I charged, my higher dexterity allowing me to parry both of its falling arm-blades with my daggers. However, as I ducked under its vicious mandibles, I was met by its other pair of clawed arms. These tore through cloth and left bloody lines across my chest, causing me to lose a chunk of my Health. At the back of my mind, even in the heat of battle, I realized that I was not feeling any pain from the blows I had received. It must be because my Health was still over eighty percent, I thought, remembering the Tree-Laur and the exact threshold when the bleeding damage began to cause me great pain. I did not have to wait long for my theory to be proven correct, because a sharp pain burst from my left leg as another of the Echo-Stalkers struck from my blind spot. This forced me to keep my left weapon in a hastily made guard position to help fend off further attacks from this new threat. However, I was still within my initial target¡¯s guard, and needing to end this quickly, I used a Power Strike to try and skewer the monster with my right blade. My dagger hit true and the crudely made thing pierced through its armored chest with part of my fist burying itself in its body. I booted it off with a savage kick, uncaring to make sure it was dead, and turned to face my new opponent; the beast that had stabbed my leg. My Health points were falling precipitously due to bleed damage from the number of wounds I had received. I needed something to distract the enemies before me, to let me disengage and heal myself. Not seeing where Elwin had disappeared to, I shouted, ¡°Kidu! To me!¡± My voice cut through the din of combat. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Kidu swiftly disengaged from his opponent by rapidly spinning his spear. The viper-swift blade formed a temporary circle of safety that swept away his opponents and he found his way to my side. The Hunter covered me with his bulk, keeping our enemies at bay. I took this moment of respite to gather my magical energies and cast Heal vocally, prioritizing speed over anything else. The magic of the spell quickly filled my body with familiar soothing energies and raised my Health to nearly full. I studied Kidu for a moment and saw that he was not in any need of healing, having only suffered minor cuts along his arms and legs. Fully invigorated, Kidu and I rejoined the chaos of the fray. Kidu¡¯s spear was like lightning, thrusts mixed in with wide circular motions that kept multiple opponents at bay and relieved a lot of the pressure from the charcoal burners. Regarding the massive Hunter as the principal threat, most of the Echo-Stalkers focused their attacks on him. I took the opportunity to savage their now exposed flanks, slicing and stabbing here and there while they were busy attacking him. Kidu was a storm of violence as he went from sweeping cuts to savage jabs, smoothly mixing offense and defense with his weapon forms. I glimpsed Elwin there at the edges of the chaos, dancing among the melee between the charcoal burners and the Echo-Stalkers. There he was, stabbing at the joints of an Echo-Stalker¡¯s natural armor, at the moments when they were busy fighting a charcoal burner. There he was again, plunging a blade into one of the insect monster¡¯s eyes, before fading back into the night in an impressive display of shadowy stealth and martial skill. Alongside the surviving charcoal burners, we began whittling away at the monsters¡¯ numbers. Gradually we crushed them with our combined might, our enemies reduced to so many still twitching corpses and, as such, they were converted into power-giving experience. My Stamina was just under half when we finished stabbing the last of the Echo-Stalkers, and I was a little displeased that I had not leveled up after the encounter. Over half of the charcoal burners had perished in the fight, and the remaining few looked tired but grateful to our party. On closer inspection, I noticed the leader, who was clad in bloody, blue, loose robes, came up to me, offering his hand in gratitude. With no belt or scabbard on which to hang my blade, I handed one of them to Elwin, who tested its balance, as I walked up to meet the man. Smiling oily, the leader spoke to us in a voice that was both obsequious, yet condescending, ¡°Thank you, travelers, without your timely help this night I am sure that perhaps we would all have perished. We owe you our lives, and you have rekindled my faith that all men are brothers against the dark things. May I offer you the humble hospitality of our camp? Even as he was speaking, a whisper in my subconscious suggested to me that he only wished me to let my guard down, before trapping me once again into slavery. A twisted, logical part of my mind understood that this was the only possible way he could recover from the losses of this night. Before he could finish his traitorous thought, I stabbed him mercilessly in the neck.
You have slain Chagatai Nyamdor 85 experience gained.
¡°You are no brother of mine,¡± I spat vehemently at his corpse. Book 1: All the Bases [Part 3] We had, after all, planned on killing them all anyway. I didn¡¯t have the energy to answer a slew of questions, I was tired enough as it was. The wildman, on my signal, fell on the exhausted Children of the Tides with relish, releasing a battle cry that seemed to stun them. Elwin followed him two heartbeats later with his small flashing blade that stabbed and stabbed into yielding flesh. With utter shock on their faces, and with little resistance, we slaughtered them all, to the man. I welcomed the experience as the last one fell. Still shaking from the thrill and shock of battle, I had completely ignored my notifications, so I decided to check up on the progress of my character, looking for any notable changes I had missed.
STATUS
Calling: Gilgamesh Level 10 Paladin of Avaria / Reaver Strength: 24 Dexterity: 18 Constitution: 34 Intelligence: 18 Wisdom: 16 Charisma: 10 Luck: 15
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.2) Power Strike (lvl.2) 10 Endure (lvl.3) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.3) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.3) Polearms (lvl.2) Dual Wield (lvl.2) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) Mining (lvl.2) Unarmed Combat (lvl.3) Hammers (lvl.2) Flails (lvl.1) Maces (lvl.1) Shields (lvl.1) Medium Armor (lvl.1) Heavy Armor (lvl.1) Axes (lvl.1) Daggers (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) 5 Rust (lvl.3) 1-2 Identify (lvl.2) 1 Silent Casting (lvl.1) Mana Regeneration (lvl.2) Purify (lvl.2) 3 Visible Greater Heal (lvl.1) 10 Holy Aura (lvl.1) 2 Decay (lvl.1) If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Drain (lvl.1) Entropic Aura (lvl.1)
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% to all starting attributes. Mark of the Paladin: 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical. Touch of the Void: 10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects.
Experience to next level: 2417/2583
Health: 196/230 Stamina: 15/55 Mana: 8/13
Progress of my character? What a strange turn of thought, this was my progress, and this was in no way a game. I focused more seriously now on my current situation. A single point to Dexterity and Strength was both welcome and at the same time a little disappointing, since the growth rate of my attributes was slowing down despite the ever more frenetic battles I had been fighting. Even after suffering a multitude of wounds in the heat of combat, my Constitution refused to budge. Going over my skills, I noticed that my Dual Wield proficiency had increased by a level, thanks to my wild swings with the new weapons. These weapons must have been categorized as daggers by whatever system ruled this world. I knew this to be fact as I had gained a new skill ¡®Daggers¡¯ through their use. This skill, like all my other newly acquired skills from this world, was at level one. I still had some spells that required testing, which I would leave until we had reached a safe place. My new gifts from my class choices would also need to be examined some other time, as I had more pressing needs before me currently. ¡°Leave the corpses where they are. Take no trophies but loot the men. Leave the weapons on them for now. If they have coin, take some of it but not all,¡± I said, looking hard at our Rogue who looked like he was about to protest. ¡°Please trust me...there is a method to my madness,¡± I assured him between labored breaths. Elwin shrugged his shoulders, before he began rifling through the bodies. A few moments later, he was joined by Kidu, who spat on one of the corpses before going about the grisly task. During the latter part of the fight, several times my notifications displayed the names of the men that I had killed instead of the usual question marks. I briefly wondered if they had any scripted family or friends to mourn them, before swiftly brushing the thought aside. I felt the smallest pinprick of guilt before I rationalized that their deaths, if they were truly alive in the first place, had been nothing more than a necessity for the survival of our group. It was a cliched conviction, but we simply did what we had to do. I did not have the time, nor emotional energy, to cry over every defeated foe. ¡°Okay...I mean alright,¡± I said as I looked at the corpses that had been killed by spear and knife, ¡°Let¡¯s try and set the scene.¡± Moving to the corpses, I started the gruesome task of slashing or stabbing at the wounds that Kidu and Elwin had inflicted, attempting to make them look like they were simply the victims of the Echo-Stalkers. Understanding my intent, Elwin moved to join me, and we quickly finished our macabre work. I nodded my permission to Elwin, who proceeded to pocket a fine steel dagger. The weapon was crafted beautifully, its blade a beautiful damask pattern that drew the eye with wavy lines etched into the smoked steel. I hoped that it was of a common enough design in these parts to avoid drawing attention. Seeing that I could do with a better weapon, he removed the leader¡¯s short sword from his belt and passed it to me for my perusal. Rooting around the corpses, he soon found a long dagger to replace it with. Drawing it from its plain unpatterned leather sheath, I examined the short sword under the large moon¡¯s silvery light. The lightly fullered blade was a little longer than my crude scythe dagger. It was perhaps around forty-five centimeters in length and ended in a triangular tip. A plain bronze cruciform guard protected the hands, and the handle of the weapon was made of dark-stained wood with a heavy iron or lead pommel. Testing its balance, I concluded that it would make a simple, if not particularly aesthetically pleasing, weapon. Assessing its heft, I rolled it around my wrists as I had seen actors do before in film. Finding it comfortable, I sheathed the blade back in its scabbard. Seeing that I was having some difficulty fitting the cloth sword belt around my waist, the intricate knots alien to me, Elwin assisted with a wry grin. ¡°Right bunch of trouble you are, feel like mother helping out with her child¡¯s first mass-murder,¡± he said jokingly in a paternal tone, though his eyes spoke a different story. Kidu merely snorted at the attempted joke before commenting. ¡°Gil is no child, Elwin. He is wise enough to know that a wolf does mourn a death of the herd, only of the pack. Besides, we had saved their lives from the monsters. As they said, they owed to us their very lives. They belonged to us to spend as we pleased,¡± he stated simply with a satisfied sparkle in his eyes. I couldn¡¯t help but note that the calculus of the North was a cold one indeed. ¡°Search the cabins for valuables and supplies. Try not to disturb the place too much, and remember to leave a few things. I want this to look like nothing more than just a monster attack,¡± I instructed the pair, looking at them each in turn. After seeing them nod their understanding, I led them into the cabins. We were greeted by the sight of a few overturned chairs and half-eaten food, now growing cold at their tables, the signs of hastily made exits. The insides of the dwellings were all sparsely furnished, with utilitarian furniture of simple wood or iron. The walls were uniformly unadorned, and a small fire burnt merrily in each of the cabins in simple stone hearths. We eagerly searched the dressers and tables, going through the knick-knacks and small things of the previous occupants. The Rogue, by dint of his larcenous skills or instincts, uncovered a coin purse hidden under a loose floorboard. In this manner, we passed through each of the buildings eagerly searching for items useful to us. During this time, I was greeted by yet another mysterious notification.
Do you wish to claim Nyamdor¡¯s Hold? Yes/No
I paused as I rifled through a dead man¡¯s nightstand, looking for hidden valuables, surprised once more by how gamified this world was. This smallholding must have been the property of the man in blue garments, Chagatai Nyamdor. Scoffing at the notification, I of course chose ¡®No¡¯ and the message disappeared out of sight. The last thing I needed was something linking us to the massacre that we had perpetrated. I remembered the games I had played in my past where you had to build up your settlement, pandering to an endless list of needs from helpless NPCs and micromanaging their pathetic daily lives for minor, pointless rewards. No thank you, I thought with finality as I continued my pillage. Responsibility for a place that would tie me down was most certainly not my cup of tea. The work was tedious but worthwhile. Our haul consisted of several bags filled mostly with copper and bronze coins and a purse filled with several silver pieces and four gold coins that Elwin had found under the loose floorboard. The Rogue replaced his iron dagger with another simple steel dagger of slightly higher quality, which he discovered in one of the cupboards. We also attained a good supply of food and general supplies, taking what we could easily carry in large leather bags that we also pillaged. Most importantly, we were able to find new clothes, even for Kidu¡¯s massive bulk, all cut in the local fashion with wide silken sashes. We were even lucky enough to find some leather boots that were roughly our size, a huge upgrade over our simple sandals. After changing, we burnt our slave linens in the fire of one of the hearths. The whole process was solemn, like a funeral, or a pagan rite of passage. We had come so far, and we were now closer to achieving true freedom as we watched our old garments being consumed by the hungry flames. My modern sensibilities now thoroughly put aside, I knew then that I would fight with everything I had to survive in this cruel and callous world. Book 1: The Benefits of Dairy [Part 1] With casualties mounting on both sides, the Republic began to lose its appetite for war. Even with necromancy filling the holes of the army ranks, the constant attrition was beginning to wear away at the will of the people, with some even demanding that they at least consider the elves¡¯ earlier offers of amnesty. The Steward of the Republic, hearing the people''s cries and feeling the heavy weight of their expectations, searched for a solution that would expel the invaders from their land and bring an end to the war. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. We rested in one of the cabins, eating and recovering a little of our Stamina, but we were not quite able to sleep. Before long, and taking measures to conceal any sign of our presence, we resumed our journey. We spotted a trail leading towards the west which we followed for several hours. As we progressed, the colossal trees of Sainba gradually gave way to smaller deciduous trees, adorned with a rich blend of deep green and golden hues. As the sun began to sink and twilight fell across the forest, the daytime calls of the birds were replaced by the howls of prowling night creatures. Kidu advised that we push on through the dark, to place as much distance between ourselves and any potential pursuers, but one look at Elwin¡¯s haggard face put an end to that notion. Much to the Rogue¡¯s relief, we moved off of the trail to shelter under the trees and made camp for the night. We would have to hope that our blue-glowing Zajasite chunks would provide a large enough deterrent against attack from the local fauna. We ate a humble repast of trail bread and jerky, now lightly salted thanks to our pillage of the charcoal burners¡¯ stores. Conversation was scant, if not absent altogether. The physical and emotional strain of taking human lives had taken its toll on our spirits, leaving us without the inclination for idle chatter. I volunteered to take the most unwanted duty, the middle watch. Normally, I would have been against this, but I viewed it now as the opportunity to practice casting my spells. Before making camp for the night, and with some Mana to spare, I silently cast Heal on Kidu. I felt the warm energies leave my body as the divine magic healed him of the many small wounds that he had acquired in the last engagement. It made me feel rather content. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Feeling pleased with myself, I went just outside of the camp¡¯s Zajasite glow to continue exploring my powers. I needed to learn quickly as there was no way of knowing when the game would be throwing its next difficulty spike in my direction. To that end, I brought with me several pieces of loose metal, the few remains from our manacles, which I had kept for my next experiment. Throwing a small chunk of metal to the ground, I began to channel the full raging force of the Rust spell. Even using the Silent Casting skill, the spell still came to me easily, if not a little delayed. The alien whispers, once so unfamiliar to me, now tantalized me with their hidden meaning, just out of reach. The dark power, which previously had been so inimical, began to feel warm and welcome as it coursed through my body. Like a river just before bursting its bank, a buildup to almost manic completion, the spell reached a crescendo of power. Releasing the energies, a stream of black lightning blasted into the piece of metal which audibly sizzled and heated in response. Humming a soft tune, I patiently bided my time, allowing the Rust spell to dissipate and the metal to cool. I brought it closer to the faint blue light emanating from my Zajasite stone and examined the metal closely, discovering that it had become heavily corroded and remarkably brittle to the touch. Manipulating it between my fingers, I noticed the surface was now riddled with rust the color of desiccated blood. Despite waiting several protracted minutes for the heat to subside, I still discerned a lingering warmth through the old leather of my gloves. Wanting to test the effective distance of the spell, I threw another small chunk of metal on the ground and walked further away from it, counting the steps in my mind. At seventy paces, I tried casting the spell, but the magic failed to latch onto the metal. I took another step toward the iron chunk, but still, the magic failed to catch. I took another step, then another, until at perhaps fifty or so paces, a torrent of energy flew from my hand into the metal. This piece of iron, just like the last, visibly hissed as the power of the spell ate into it. Even at this range, the magic had lost none of its potency and forced the metal to undergo a rapid and very visible exothermic reaction. I knew now, for certain, the range of my Rust spell and that increases in the spell level did nothing for its maximum range, only its strength. I repeated this experiment three more times, eager to level up the spell and boost either my Intelligence or Wisdom attributes. But that evening luck was not on my side, and I made gains in none of them. With disappointment curdling in my stomach, and Mana Sickness making me feel a little more tired than I was, I returned to camp to get what rest I could. This drew neither a word nor a simple grunt of acknowledgment from Kidu, who was already awake to take the last watch. With arms heavy from the night''s trials, I quickly spread out a looted bedroll and slipped into a blessedly dreamless and exhausted sleep. Perhaps tomorrow I would have better luck. Book 1: The Benefits of Dairy [Part 2] The next morning, after a simple breakfast, we continued on the wooded trail, with, again, only a few words shared between us. I surmised that Kidu and Elwin were likely thinking about our return to civilization. My thoughts, on the other hand, danced between how to test my new spells safely and the violent actions of the night before last. With no sign of pursuit, we stopped for our midday meal. Our lunch consisted of hard cheese and even harder tack rations, which were mercifully softened and washed down with stale-tasting water. Despite traveling for most of the morning, I felt much better than when I had traversed through the woods in my simple leather sandals. The difference that simple good footwear could have on one¡¯s outlook on life was startling. When our meal was finished, I turned to my companions and spoke frankly, "I need your help once again with some new spells." "How is this even possible? Did you discover a spell after the battle? Have the powers that be granted you new magic already? It is said that it takes a mage years of learning and dedicated effort, or a pious cleric many seasons of devotion and prayer to gain new spells! And you say that you have acquired more already?" Elwin exclaimed, clearly taken aback by this news. "He is god-touched," the Hunter interjected, as if this were all the explanation that was necessary. "We will assist in whatever way we can..." Elwin almost interrupted, but a single glance from the Hunter silenced the Rogue. "We owe you, after all, a great debt that can never be repaid," Kidu declared with finality. "Thank you, thank you both," I replied, my voice slightly thick with repressed emotion. "I will require you both to remain at a safe distance, but close enough to observe." They both nodded, Elwin a little more hesitantly than Kidu, before following me a little way from our place of rest. The sun shone bright and high, and not a cloud marred the sky. We walked to a small field of grass filled with white flowers poking up from between some of the blades. Checking that my companions were at a safe but observable distance, I began to cast one of my new spells. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. A darkness and a fierce joy surged deep within me, coalescing into a force that demanded release. With a shudder, I gave in, letting the power course through my body and erupt outward. The void between heartbeats and atoms was filled with a frigid emptiness, and my being radiated with a dark and terrible energy. Like ripples on a stagnant pool, the gray pulses of power expanded outward from me, spreading wider and wider in a circle before abruptly ceasing its expansion at a distance of fifteen meters. As I took in the reactions of my companions, it became clear that the effect had gone unnoticed by them. The energy, it seemed, was invisible to all but myself. This was my Entropic Aura spell, and despite the impressive visual effects that only I could perceive, I felt no difference in myself. Like Holy Aura, this spell consumed two Mana to cast and decreased my maximum Mana by two points while channeling. Summoning my comrades, I verified that they had neither felt nor witnessed any alterations. Elwin looked at me with a quizzical expression as I took out a piece of cheese to observe the possible effects of my aura spell upon it and waited for perhaps a minute or two. The Rogue¡¯s voice rang out nervously from a distance. "Are you alright, Gil? Thinking about getting into the dairy business by any chance?" Kidu shot a sharp glance in Elwin''s direction. "Hold your tongue, little man," he chided, his annoyance visible. "Gilgamesh is in the midst of some great magic." "Fear not," I replied, my attention fixed on the scene unfolding before me. "I am merely confirming something¡­" Expecting to see some sort of entropic effect on the small piece of hard cheese, I was disappointed to note that there was no change to its visible condition. Just as I was plucking up the courage to give the cheese a taste test, I caught sight of the grass around my feet. Here, I noticed that some of the leaves had begun to wilt slightly in places, their once lustrous greens a little dull and faded and browning at the edges. Wishing to test further the conditions of the spell, I tore a small piece of cheese off. In my mind, I voiced that I wished to throw it away and that it was no longer my property. Perhaps the magic only affected things that were not mine? After all, if I was dealing with the entropic forces of the universe it would hardly do if my own weapons and equipment suffered. With all of this in mind, I dropped the small morsel at my feet. Observing the torn-off piece of cheese, I noticed that it was slowly beginning to decay, discoloring and breaking up into smaller and smaller pieces as what I assumed was mold and bacteria assaulted it. It looked like the effects of time were being accelerated, like a time-lapse video, with what should have been days¡¯ worth of rot hastening over the course of just a few minutes. The piece of cheese that I still held in my hand was showing no change, and I bit down on it to make sure it was still edible. The cheese was, as I remembered, similar in flavor to a low-quality cheddar. Nothing special and no change. I quickly took a swig from my water flask to clean out the taste. Book 1: The Benefits of Dairy [Part 3] As I pondered over the curious results, inspiration struck me, and I decided to test another one of my newly acquired spells - Decay. As I cast the dark magic, a surge of oily darkness flowed through me, pulsating with a frenzied madness that almost made me recoil. Yet, I grappled with the dark energy, and with a swift gesture, I released it onto the piece of cheese in my hand. To my amazement, black liquid tentacles that absorbed light erupted from my hand and ensnared the small piece of food. The tentacles writhed and pulsed in tune with the waves from my Entropic Aura, causing the small morsel to decompose rapidly and released briefly the smell of ammonia. Soon, it was reduced to no more than crumbling dust and was blown away by an errant breeze. In conclusion, unless actively targeted, my spells would not adversely affect me or my possessions. The spell had only cost me one point of Mana, but I was yet unsure about its place in my arsenal. Both of the spells seemed to be ¡®smart¡¯ and did not negatively affect me. The question was, would the same blanket rule apply to my companions? I needed to find out. I shouted out to them, telling them that it was probably safe. Kidu came first, with Elwin trailing a few meters behind. Almost instinctively, Kidu stopped just before the rolling waves of entropy, like an animal that had just sniffed danger in the wind. I beckoned him to come closer, and he did so, with a fraction of hesitation in his stride. He was followed shortly by Elwin, who seemed totally oblivious to the Aura. The pulses of entropy broke against them, like slow inexorable gentle waves on the shore and caused no harm. ¡°Something tells me of an emptiness here,¡± the big man said with an air of mysticism as he looked around at me. The statement worried me. Did NPCs have a way to detect magic? Was it some skill linked to Kidu¡¯s class? Or was it simply the wild man¡¯s animalistic instincts? ¡°Don¡¯t feel anything different. I was supposed to feel something, right?¡± chortled the Rogue, playing with the handle of his dagger. I invited them to sit next to me, and we spent perhaps twenty minutes under the sun in companionable silence. Deciding that it was better to apologize than to seek permission, I tried to cast Decay silently on Kidu in this little interlude. However, the spell seemed to resist entering the large man, almost as if it was beyond its scope. Also, luckily for me, Kidu seemed to be none the wiser. The spell still needed a release, so I threw the rest of my cheese onto the ground. Willing the spell into that instead, the magic soon broke it down into a rotting mess, causing my companions to leap up in worry as the smell assaulted their senses. Luckily, I was able to assure them that all was well by telling them that I was just testing out the same spell. They both looked at me, a little miffed that I had not given them any forewarning. The grass closest to me was visibly wilting now, and Kidu gazed at the vegetation before looking me in the eye. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Do you know what it is that you do?¡± he asked, genuine concern edging his voice. ¡°In truth, Kidu, this is why I requested your help. I am sure that this is a spell that will help weaken my enemies,¡± I said as I tore up some browning grass and showed it to him, hopefully dodging the question, ¡°But I needed to know if it would affect my allies. Forgive me my small deception.¡± Elwin, visibly shaken, hurriedly got up and started to step away from me before Kidu stopped him, grasping him firmly by the arm. ¡°If we were being harmed, I would know it,¡± explained Kidu. ¡°And I have felt no ill effects from Gilgamesh¡¯s spell. Have you, Elwin of Tucker? Remember, we are here to help him understand his magic. Our debt is huge, we must give what small assistance we can. Many times now, thanks to his magic, have you not been saved?¡± he firmly told Elwin, looking at him steadily. With a shrug, the Rogue sat down. ¡°Well, if you put it that way. But all this magic is making me nervous. Can¡¯t see it after all. This esoteric arcane nonsense gives me a little of the shakes. How about it? Are we finished now, Gil?¡± the wiry man asked nervously. I nodded at Elwin. ¡°Yes, we are. I think this curse, or spell, or whatever it is, does not affect my allies. Only my enemies,¡± I answered, giving them both another look over to make sure they had not suffered from the spell. Not wishing to push my companions'' largesse by insisting on more tests, I suggested that we resume our travels. We continued our journey through the rest of the day, with the trail gradually widening, before reaching a simple earthen road that cut through the woods. Eventually, the trees of the forest gave way to endless grassland stained golden and red in the dying light. A flicker of movement caught my eye in the middle distance, but as quickly as it appeared, it vanished without a trace. Kidu stopped in his tracks, his muscles tensed, and he paused for a moment as if assessing the situation. Faraway, we could see the sprawling city of Ansan, our destination, just as the sun dipped beneath the horizon and twilight claimed the land. I felt on my cheek the smallest impression of displaced air. Then a small group emerged as if from a thick mist, like phantoms, their presence jarring, yet barely registering, in my mind. Something about them made me want to avert my gaze, to ignore their existence, but I fought against the compulsion and focused on their appearance. They were a party of seven, cloaked and mysterious, and the bulge of hidden weapons about their lithe forms served as an unspoken threat. Was it my imagination, or did I catch a glimpse of pointed ears poking out from beneath one of their hoods? With trepidation, I shook my head out of a fugue and made sure to avoid eye contact or pay them further attention and we gave them a wide berth. They passed us and for a few moments, I could hear them cursing at each other in an unknown musical tongue. Were they hunting for us? Paranoia began to nibble away at me, and faraway-sounding whispers encouraged me to turn around and make an end of that group. That would be foolish, I thought to myself, as I shook my head and waved aside the temptation. Perhaps another time. Looking at my Status, I noticed that my maximum Mana was still at eleven¡­ which meant that I was still subconsciously channeling my Entropic Aura! The magic had a mind of its own, not wishing to recede whence it came. The dark slow waves were still there, pulsing, and almost invisible, even to me in the twilight. Fighting the temptation to turn around, and horrified at my lack of control, I focused on trying to reign in both my panic and the entropic magic. Bringing the dark force to heel felt like trying to grasp at a slippery eel; the rogue magic wanted to stay on this plane of existence. Closing my eyes for a moment, I began to bind it inexorably to my will and I was finally able to stop the spell. I was not the same man that entered this world. My will and determination had grown with me. Sighing deeply in relief, I began to walk before I suddenly felt a sharp pricking pressure at my throat, the pressure of a needle-pointed blade, and a soft whisper in my ear. ¡°What are you, little day spawn?¡± hissed a surprisingly sultry feminine voice, causing me to shudder in cold fear. Book 1: Rules of the Road [Part 1] Ansan, known as the Jewel of the Grieving Lands, is the seat of power of the Children of the Tides. The city has an insatiable hunger for slaves, which is its very lifeblood, acquired through both trade and their mercenary campaigns where payment is more often demanded in flesh than in gold. The city''s greatest exports are the result of suffering and bloodshed. The high-quality iron from its mines and fine lumber harvested from the nearby Sainba forest are its greatest assets and are famous throughout the known world. Lying along the famous Dust merchant route, the city is a veritable hub of trade. It is said that anything can be purchased in Ansan, for a price. Beyond the Sainba forest lies the untamed frontier of the Wildlands, the hunting grounds of the Adventurer''s Guild. It is a place of great danger, where only the bravest or the foolhardiest venture to collect rare and valuable materials. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. Defiantly, I held my tongue. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see that both of my companions had been similarly accosted by the hooded group. Slowly, we all raised our hands in the universal sign of surrender, completely powerless before them. Two of their number came to face us, both lithe and predatory in their movements, talking to each other in a strange language that was unknown to me. Their words were soft and lilting, and it was difficult to recognize if they were singing or speaking to one another. Needing to know what they were saying, I went through the mental gymnastics required to cast Identify silently on their words. ¡°One of the Tide¡¯s Honored Ones,¡± said the one to the left, who was considerably shorter than all the others in the group. The figure turned in my direction, ¡°A middlingly gifted one at that. We should just leave them here, and quickly. We need no more complications. Also, the death of an Honored one will...¡± The words turned back into incomprehensible yet pleasantly lilting singsong as my spell faded. I noticed, even in my rising panic, that the smaller one in front of me was probably female. She had said something about me being gifted, and I tried to parse its meaning, but the slight curves of her feminine form drew my eye, and I cursed inwardly at the momentary distraction. Curled blonde ringlets fell around eyes that held all the deadly playfulness of a cat toying with a doomed mouse. The knife pressed a little harder against my throat, almost drawing blood, and drew me back to the desperation of my current predicament. Gifted must mean magic user, I concluded rapidly. There seemed to be some disagreement between the two leaders about our fate. I had to know more about who had waylaid us, so I stole another glance at the small blonde one who had recognized me as a magic user. Desperately clutching at straws, I cast an Identify in her direction. The spell appeared to be resisted to some degree, taking far too long before providing some clarity.
Arimea Lostariot - Spellsinger (Wood Elf lvl.19) The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Health: 176/180 Stamina: 31/32 Mana: 13/17
I kept my expression neutral as I went over the information. At the same time, my eyes scanned left and right in search of an opening. These were elves, but I had little idea how I could use that to my advantage to wriggle us out of this situation. My mind raced through every myth, legend, and modern portrayal of elves, but none offered any insight into how I might escape this situation. The only potential advantage I could recall was that elves were often physically weaker than humans, but that seemed of little use in our current predicament. Also, almost all of my second-hand knowledge agreed that elves were portrayed to be as deadly as they were mysterious. If the elf I had identified earlier was any indication, this group was not to be trifled with. Their strength was clear. But I had to keep searching for a way out, a glimmer of hope that might yet save us. A growing sense of powerlessness and frustration came over me; I needed more information, so I cast Identify silently on their conversation again. ¡°Bah, the day spawn¡¯s Honored Ones kill each other all the time in their futile power struggles. Make it look like another of their mindless killings¡­¡± one of the elves, indistinguishable from others, added to the conversation. ¡°...We must keep up our efforts to find the Daughter of Chaos. She is close, our informants at the guild...and this will be a poor salve for your revenge. Remember our mandate,¡± said the one on the right, tersely, in a clipped male voice, like a teacher reminding a child of a forgotten fact. I was taken aback by the masculinity of his voice, for his face was more beautiful than it was handsome. Even in the poor light, a jagged scar that was intertwined with creases of concern did little to detract from that beauty. Though I could not fully understand him, I judged by his manner and tone that he was suppressing a deeply buried exasperation. Similar to his comrades, he possessed a lean and svelte frame but was slightly broader at the shoulders than they were. I burned through another point of Mana on deciphering their words, as adrenaline surged through my veins and beads of sweat formed on my brow as I struggled to focus on their conversation. ¡°...They have seen our faces. If we are to deal with them, be quick about it. We must hurry on. Time is of the essence, and seconds count. We must make it within the city boundary soon, for I cannot keep this veil up forever...¡± said Arimea, the figure on the left, and I could hear a budding frustration growing in her musical voice. ¡°How did they even pierce your veil, Lady Lostariot? Such magics should be beyond the day spawn,¡± another of her attendants ventured.
You have gained 1 Wisdom.
Panic was beginning to seize me even as the notification flashed across my mind¡¯s view and my bladder grew heavy in fear. Before I could cast another spell, the pair seemed to have reached a decision, made clear by the one on the right nodding to the elf behind me. A knife cut a shallow slash across my throat, and I could feel a numbing sensation followed by my limbs locking up, paralyzed. I crumbled to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, mere moments later, I saw my companions struck down in a similar fashion, falling to the elves¡¯ blades. A whisper later, the hooded terrors faded into the twilight gray, leaving us for dead. Book 1: Rules of the Road [Part 2] Somewhere inside of me, a primal instinct, the simple desire to live at all costs, commanded me to take action. Yet, like a mouse who had escaped the claws and teeth of a predator, fear still ruled my heart and threatened to reduce me to a gibbering mess. With a great effort of will, I stamped down on this mind-killing fear. Desperately, I searched my mind for a way out of this dire situation, a way to save my companions and me. Surely this was not where my journey would end? My health was rapidly dropping, and I felt a constriction about my heart. Was it possible that their blades were poisoned? The thought lingered even as my lifeblood continued to pour out from my throat with every weakening pulse. Certainly, with my current Mana, I could cast Heal and save myself, but I would not have enough energy to save Kidu and Elwin. It would be a repeat of Durhit all over again. Without a word, I took a chance and cast one of my new spells, hoping that my choice was the correct one. Golden energies ever so slowly began to pulse from me, an echo of angel¡¯s song ringing softly in my ear like a celestial lullaby. The glow spread over me, slowly closing the wound at my throat and repairing the damage done by the vile substances that had ravaged my body. The poisons remained within me, but their vicious bile had been blunted. My health fluctuated in small ticks as the damage they were doing was mitigated by the slow healing. The aura spell''s energy left me feeling both warm and chilled in equal measure before it flowed over to my companions, soothing them as well. I could only pray that it would be enough. A notification appeared, telling me that I had gained a point in Luck, but I dismissed it rapidly from my mind. Staying on the ground, in fear of the group''s return, I waited for my shaking limbs to still themselves and hoped that the elves would not notice the glow and return to finish us off. I forced myself into a state of calm, to check my Status. The attempt on my life had reduced my Health to around half, and my back-to-back use of magic had put my Mana down to six points. On shaky legs, like a newborn foal, I slowly got up and hobbled to check on my companions. Kidu stirred his enormous bulk, and I felt great relief that my magic had worked in saving his life. Elwin looked to be in worse shape, his breathing shallow and his face pale. Using most of my remaining Mana, I cast Heal on him, which slowly brought the color back to his face. Realizing that we had made it past the worst, I stopped channeling my aura spell and said, "Kidu, we must move. Those elves may return, and they have the advantage over us." Within me, adrenaline was fighting a losing war with exhaustion. Kidu took several deep breaths, like a bull preparing to charge, before he moved with great effort to help me with Elwin, who had just begun to stir. A mixture of disbelief, gratefulness, and awe dogged my companions'' steps as we half-ran, half-shuffled towards a dip in the grassland where we could lay low and hoped that it was enough cover from prying elven eyes or ears. Every now and then, Elwin would look at his hands and whisper thanks and a prayer to some sort of "Dark Lady." Kidu would mutter to tell him to stay quiet, while also secretly shooting me a look filled with wonder. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. We settled down on the soft grass. I felt haggard and demoralized from the clear difference in the strength we had witnessed from the elves. We were like children before them. Now in a relative place of safety, Kidu volunteered to take watch over Elwin to give him time to recover from his brush with death. I hunkered down next to them, shivering - more from fear than from the cooling twilight air. Hours passed, and I heard the hoot of a night owl somewhere in the distance. The peak of danger now had hopefully passed, and my thoughts turned to survival. If we were going to get through this, we needed the supplies in our bags. They represented all our worldly wealth, the wealth we would need to travel to more gentle climes. I needed to get my things back, but the brush with death had unmanned me. Kidu was keeping watch, but even in the dying light, I could tell that he had lost some of his usual confidence and energy from the slump of his shoulders and the cast of his eyes. After putting him through so much, I almost felt guilty that I would be asking more of him. ¡°Kidu,¡± I whispered, ¡°we need to see if they have left anything behind. We need those things,¡± the Hunter looked at me for direction, ¡°Perhaps enough time has passed, and you are by far a better¡­¡± ¡°Yes, I see. I will go to see if those old ones have left and recover our things. You must stay with Elwin of Tucker. He may be needing further healing. Also, you make more noise than a rutting boar when you move, hah!¡± he added, some of his usual verve and confidence returning as he stood to his full and impressive height. Glad that I was able to save face, I nodded to him in thanks. In my current state, I could barely keep myself together let alone venture out in the growing dark on a mission to recover our things. ¡°Be safe, Kidu,¡± I begged of him as he left. ¡°Fear not! They will not find me such easy prey this time!¡± he growled before leaving me alone with Elwin. My mind was filled with narcissistic fantasies of vengeance against the elves as I sat down on the dry grass next to the comatose Elwin. Every minute alone left me feeling weak and vulnerable. I touched my neck and recoiled at the memory of the blade slashing my throat. The remembrance put paid to my remaining thoughts of vengeance. I did not know how much time had passed, but suddenly, there was a hand on my shoulder that made me almost jump out of my skin. ¡°Be well, Gilgamesh!¡± a familiar voice said from behind me. ¡°Kidu, thank heavens you have returned,¡± I said, turning around. Weighed down by the weight of our bags on his massive frame, the Hunter had returned with our belongings. His appearance brought a glimmer of joy to my countenance, and I exhaled all my tension in sweet release. ¡°Yes, the old ones did not touch a thing. They are not worthy of respect, those who kill only for sport,¡± he hissed angrily, dropping our bags down by his feet. I helped in unrolling the stolen bedrolls. It was the least I could do. Between us, we maneuvered the unconscious form of Elwin into his bedding. He mumbled something about dice in his sleep, which gave me some measure of reassurance. If he could still talk, then there was hope that no enduring harm had been inflicted upon him. Sick and tired of this stupid world, I curled up into a ball. It took a long time for the dreams to find me. Book 1: Return to Ansan [Part 1] The sword is a truly noble weapon for the traveler. A good blade is perfectly balanced for both offense and defense and is the symbol of an honest man. A man is judged by the quality of the weapon on his hip. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. My dreams were of a different flavor this time. The tentacled creatures of the void did not disturb me. Nor did the susurrations of the cruel whispers that promised an eternity of suffering intrude upon my sleep. Instead, I endured a frustrating dream of battling, swift-moving, hooded elves that moved like bottled lightning. I tried attacking them with my short sword, but my limbs felt like they were moving through thick molasses. Again and again, the wicked creatures would harry me, stabbing and slashing with their evil shining blades. My frustration was building up to a berserker rage until Kidu shook me awake, freeing me from my nightmare. Groggily, I took over the watch, looking over at Elwin¡¯s sleeping form. I was physically refreshed but mentally exhausted, thanks to my recent dream. Anger, more than fear, was my primary emotion, and a small part of me hoped to encounter those elves again, to rend yielding flesh from their delicate bones. However, in the deeper parts of my soul, I knew that this was just an idle fantasy. If we met them again in our current state we would not be nearly as lucky. It was a humbling and abject lesson in the difference of power. Staring out across the sea of grass, I whispered to myself, ¡°One day¡­¡± and began my watch. A cool night breeze made the shimmering blades sway softly under an argent moon in agreement with my vow. ***** During the long hours of watch, I had busied myself by cycling Entropic Aura on and off to prove that I, and not it, was truly in control. So engrossed was I with my magic that I chose not to wake Elwin for his watch, which left me a little more tired than usual. However, as a result of my focused esoteric practice, I had increased the level of my Entropic Aura and, more importantly, was now better able to command its rebellious energies. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. The next morning found our party in low spirits. Fear stalked at the back of my mind, and I nervously looked over my shoulder for any signs of pursuit. The previous night¡¯s encounter brought to the fore a feeling of impotence, akin to that felt when the collars were around our necks. The sun shone and the birds sang their sweet melodies in the crisp morning air, but none of this could lift the pall of our close brush with the end. After we had a simple breakfast of lightly salted traveler¡¯s bread, with not even a single word of thanks from Elwin, I decided to broach the topic of our next move. ¡°Gentlemen, I believe it is time for us to discuss what to do next.¡± ¡°Well, we certainly need to get out of this forsaken wilderness. Simple travelers aren¡¯t nearly as friendly as they used to be,¡± replied Elwin sarcastically, hiding the worry in his voice. ¡°Just a few more enemies for the tribe,¡± rumbled the big Hunter threateningly as he took a swig of water from a canteen. ¡°I say we stick with our own kind, better the devil you know. Best we make our way into the city and join up with a caravan. Or, get some supplies and gear and find a group traveling someplace else, once we get the lay of the land. Don¡¯t know about you lads, but I could do with a roof over my head for a little bit. A quick drink would not go amiss either,¡± Elwin suggested strongly. ¡°Better to be free in the forest than in chains in the city¡­¡± grumbled the big man. ¡°Very well, you both make good points. However, if we are to go with Elwin¡¯s plan, how are we to make good our entry into the city of Ansan? Our wealth is not without limits, and as Elwin wisely pointed out, it would be best for us to find friendlier climes as soon as¡­¡± I began to say, before being interrupted by Elwin. ¡°Leave that to me. City guards are always known for their grift, and we have a little coinage, more than enough to secure entry for three foreigners. Besides, people from all over come to Ansan, the jewel of the Grass Sea and gate to the Wilds of the Grieving Lands! What I would do for a real bed!¡± he interjected a little too enthusiastically, really trying to sell us on the idea of civilization. I made a point of pretending to truly consider this, before finally siding with the Rogue. I would have to pray that my face would just be one among many. My notoriety from the arena was surely faded now from word of my supposed ¡®death¡¯ in the mines. Still, I felt a little apprehensive to be going back to the city that had enslaved me. The irony was not lost on me that it was safer to be in the city in which I had been subjugated rather than in the wilderness where I could fall prey to dark beasts and proficient, chilling enemies. At least I would be among my own species. ¡°We enter Ansan and find a place to stay. Sell what we can for coin, then find transport out,¡± I spoke slowly in the best authoritative voice I could muster. Book 1: Return to Ansan [Part 2] ¡°All well and good, talking about getting in the city. That¡¯s the easy part. I would like to take a moment to just discuss what in the blue hell happened yesterday? For a moment I was in the Shallow River, about to cross to the other side. Don¡¯t know about the big man here, but I was knee-deep in its dark water. What, or who, were those people or things last night? And what did you do to us that could pull us from the grasp of the Dark Lady? By the gods, we almost died! What exactly are you and what are those powers that let you do this!?¡± asked an exasperated Elwin, looking pointedly at me as he took a deep breath, ¡°Let¡¯s start with something simple first, Gil here seems to have understood a little of what they were saying. Saw it, I did. Why did they attack us?¡± Debating on telling them the whole truth, I carefully began to answer his line of inquiry, ¡°They were elves, Wood Elves to be precise, and they...¡± Again, I was interrupted by Elwin, ¡°Legendary, even among their own sort, the royal line of the First People of Forest? The Warders of the Woods? They walk the lands of men again? Hah, you would make a fine bard for the Royal Court if you could get me to believe that...¡± added the Rogue in a sharp tone which drew a snarl from the Hunter. ¡°Enough, little man. Gilgamesh of the Uruks speaks the truth. Who else could have moved as they did? I am perhaps one of the greatest Hunters of the Three Bears that has ever lived to walk on the ice, yet even I didn¡¯t sense a whisper before they were upon us. The old stories tell of sharp-eared people, great even among their own kind that can walk as they do. If Gilgamesh says they are of the First People, then that makes for a good enough explanation for me,¡± concluded the man-mountain with the finality of an avalanche. ¡°But why did...¡± went on the Rogue. ¡°Because they could,¡± I said tersely, cutting him off. ¡°Because they¡¯re not human like us, their goals are alien and unknowable. But ultimately, I believe it was because they had the power to do so. Let¡¯s be grateful that they were in a hurry and didn¡¯t finish the job,¡± I said, looking at them both pointedly in the eye. ¡°It is best that we focus on our current predicament. The whys and wherefores matter not in our quest for a bed for the night, and a roof over our heads.¡± I said the last to humor Elwin, glad that I had diverted the topic from my own magic. I could almost feel invisible dice rolling to see if I had passed a check of some sort. The pair nodded, with Elwin slightly narrowing his eyes, before they started to gather up our things. While they were busy, I took a moment to confirm that it was only us in the immediate vicinity, as the light of the spell was somewhat of a spectacle that could draw unwanted attention. Seeing that the coast was clear, I silently cast Greater Heal on myself, eager to rid myself of the slave marks on my arm. The divine energies wound about my form and erased the mark of my hated brand. The remaining light played about my companions, drawing a few gasps of surprise before softly disappearing. When the pair finished with our preparations, we headed in the direction of the city with renewed vigor in our stride, the vestiges of my released magic making me light on my feet. Necessity had forced our hand, but I would make the most of the hand that I was dealt. About an hour away from the gates of the city, a heavily armed mounted patrol of Children passed our group. Their backs were straight as they clasped menacing-looking lances, their dark eyes looking to the horizon, as if searching for something. We kept our eyes low. Even Kidu knew better than to cause trouble, and we continued our way toward the city. Mercifully, they left us alone. My group must have looked like just a small band of innocent travelers, or perhaps farmers, looking for a better life in the city. The hawks were searching for other prey. We joined a lengthy line of farmers, merchants, and general travelers all waiting to enter Ansan, the jewel of the Grass Sea. The line moved with a plodding slowness that ate up the minutes and the hours, a testament to the efficiency of those manning the gates. A small black-haired girl, in the awkward stage between girl and woman, was carried, like an imperial icon, on a palanquin by slaves, from inside the city towards the gate. She began to speak to the guards in an imperious tone in the local language of the Tides. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. I could not hear the conversation directly, but I saw her doll-like features crease in annoyance as one of the guards at the gate knelt before her palanquin and presented her with an intricately knotted silk string. Fuming in anger, she ordered her slaves to carry her quickly back off into the city. Unable to stem my curiosity, and ignoring Elwin¡¯s warning glare, I asked an old farmer wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat to explain what had just unfolded before me. The old man turned to give me a look over, no doubt questioning the discrepancy between my local clothes and my quite obvious ethnicity. One glance at Kidu, however, made him visibly gulp in fear and answer my question. ¡°That be an Honored One, young man, those of the city who are strong in the Gift,¡± he answered, removing the straw hat from his head and clasping it to his chest. ¡°Best not to draw the attention of the high folk, only trouble for those of our station,¡± he continued, eyes downcast. I wanted to ask more, but Elwin was shaking his head, so I stilled my questioning tongue. The old man turned, now ignoring us. ¡°You don¡¯t want to be asking too many questions, not looking like that. In fact, it''s best you don¡¯t ask any questions at all. Don¡¯t want to draw any more attention to us,¡± the Rogue said in a quiet voice, pointing to my clothes and the dull stains around my neck, ¡°If you got any questions, let''s ask them once we¡¯re safely inside.¡± Taking his advice, I kept quiet until it was finally our turn. As I prepared to enter the city where the yoke of slavery had been forced upon me, my thoughts became filled with trepidation. Would anyone recognize me? Or was I already considered dead, yet another victim of the system that fueled this city¡¯s wealth? Suddenly, Elwin walked with a confident swagger to one of the bored-looking guards at the gate. His target was clad in an ill-fitting suit of piecemeal armor and armed with a crudely fashioned mace that showed signs of neglect. A terse exchange ensued between the two men, causing the guard''s features to come alive with a spark of interest. Then, with a furtive glance cast in our direction, the Rogue surreptitiously passed a few coins into the guardsman''s open palm. Moving up towards the gate, for a moment I thought our plan had failed, or that Elwin had sold us out and we would have to fight our way free. I was soon disproved of this notion when the bored-looking guard offered, ¡°You lot stink too much of the road. My cousin Taper runs an inn with a good bathhouse, just down this way, the Twisted Boar. Tell him Dagesh sent you,¡± he said with a quick wink, obviously pleased by his take this afternoon. We passed the gates of the solid wood palisade, and I had to fight a sense of foreboding as my eyes caught the sight of the great monolithic Ark at the center of the city in the distance; It was the seat of power and governance of the Children of the Tides. My nerves played merry hell with my heart, and I was worried that I would be recognized by one of my former enslavers. The stench of the pressed humanity hit me, and my eyes furtively scanned everywhere, searching with dread for any familiar faces. To me, the local people all seemed to resemble my initial captors near the shrine of Avaria with their shifty slanted Asian eyes that promised deceit or violence. Still, luck or divine provenance was on our side and our party drew no real notice. Picking up our pace, we walked along the hard earthen packed street. It was the main eastern thoroughfare of Ansan and it felt odd walking here for the first time as a free man. I rationalized my good fortune with the fact that, in this barbaric and backward society, being a slave had made me all but invisible. To them, I must have been just one face in thousands, quickly forgotten. I had weighed the risks of returning to the city against the life of a brigand in the wilds. I convinced myself that this choice, though undoubtedly risky, allowed for potentially greater gain. Also, the lure of civilization was too great to ignore. The mistake I had made was that of a modern civilized man. I thought, in my error, that I was the center of the world and that its events and people revolved around me, the protagonist. However, nothing could be further from the truth. Even here in this brand-new world, I existed in a place of astonishing indifference to almost everything I was. Everything that I thought. Everything that I did. Unbeknownst to me, a more sinister impulse had guided me back to the city. One aspect of it was a recklessness born of youth, a rebellious fire that eagerly courted danger. Yet the other facet was far more ominous, a pledge of vengeance made in what seemed so long ago, now grown cold and festering in the recesses of my mind with the passage of time. A means to etch my existence upon a cruel and callous world. Book 1: The Twisted Boar [Part 1] In ages long forgotten, the Children of the Tides were the daring adventurers of the ancient oceans. They voyaged across the world, engaging in trade and pillage along the coastlines of the many lands. But those days have passed, and their once-mighty fleets and ships now exist only in memory. Instead, they have become semi-nomadic, with few permanent settlements, relying on their fast mounts and skill at arms for their military might. Having taken a life before their fourteenth year, every one of their Waveriders is a blooded warrior. In this modern era, the Children of the Tides have reinvented themselves as mercenaries, offering their services to the highest bidder. To this day, they can field a substantial number of water mages as their people still share a bond with the ocean. Their magisters, once skilled in the art of controlling the power of the depths, now employ their talents to aid their kin in their logistics. They supply the precious resource of potable water for their long and arduous campaigns. -The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. Worry gnawed at me as we made our progress through the streets. I had to constantly remind myself that a smart criminal walks and does not run. This conflicted with another truth that I had learned through modern media; the culprit almost always returns to the scene of the crime. The foot traffic was heavy as we walked past the numerous tents and yurts lining the main boulevard, and a fine layer of dust coated almost everything. The smell of the city almost overwhelmed our noses which were by now too accustomed to clean country air. Every now and then, we would pass a stone or wooden building, but for the most part, they were relatively rare. After making our way through the sweaty press of traffic, hands always on our valuables, we saw the sign of The Twisted Boar. A painted picture of a green boar being twisted in the hands of a leering giant on a wooden board. A strange sign for a strangely named inn. The whole building looked relatively new, without the presence or signs of age of a structure that has long stood the test of the years. To the right of the building was a small one-story construction made of the local white stone, with a flat roof. Its chimney billowed out a small column of gray smoke, the baths of the establishment, no doubt. On the left of the building was an empty stable that had seen better days. We entered the main establishment through a sturdy door, well-worn with use, to be greeted by the sight of a thin man behind a wooden counter, polishing a horn stein. The ceiling was low, and the smell of spilled ale and recently cleaned vomit hung stale in the air. In the corner, two bearded and turbaned men sat around a glass pipe, taking turns sharing puffs of bluish smoke that twirled up toward the ceiling. At a small wooden table, a group of shifty-looking, rat-eyed men sat, playing what looked like this world¡¯s version of cards. Dog-eared cards featuring unknown gods, monsters, and symbols were exchanged, placed, and exchanged again. The player''s expressions changed from carefully controlled neutrality to barely concealed drunken consternation, depending on their fortunes. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The willowy male behind the bar looked at us with eyes the color of warm chocolate. He was somewhere in his middle years, his once black hair now grown lank and thin. Narrow lips under a wide nose pursed as he nodded to us in the universal manner of all bartenders, somewhere between deference and amicability, before asking, ¡°What can I get you, folks?¡± In a certain light, you could say he had a vague resemblance to the guard at the gate, but the association was tenuous at best. I was just about to speak, but Elwin beat me to it. ¡°Inn-keep, we are looking for a room, a private room, if you please, for the three of us.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll be twenty bronze pieces a night for the lot of you, twenty-three if folk be needing to use the baths, which I highly suggest you do. You have the look of the road long traveled about you. Oh, and another bronze if you lot be needing your clothes to be laundered. Leave¡¯em with the boy, good lad he is. Three coppers for a meal when we¡¯re serving. Also, the name¡¯s Taper Athinad, at your service,¡± he said perfunctorily while cleaning an array of mugs and steins in front of him. As he detailed the prices, my brain performed some rough calculations. My time in the local jail, eavesdropping on the conversations of the market, had given me a rough idea of the value of the coins. Also, as I spun the numbers in my mind, I made sure to study the innkeeper, searching his face for the signs of treachery, but I found none. Luckily, this world¡¯s currency was easy to get a handle on as it followed a simple decimal system. Having observed a woman buying two apples for a copper at the marketplace, in terms of buying power, I estimated that a single copper coin was worth approximately one pound. Ten coppers were then worth a bronze piece, and ten bronze coins were, in turn, worth a single silver piece, with ten silver pieces having the value of a rare gold coin. I ran a finger over one of the silver coins as I was making my decision. On one side was the stylized version of a flowing wave, and on the other was a bust profile of an ancient woman. Making a quick study of the profile, I noticed a terrifying similarity to the goddess Avaria. Like all of the coins, the edges of this one were smooth and uniform. Next to it was a similar-sized silver coin with a hole punched through its center. This was a ¡®half-silver¡¯ piece. Like the silver coins, there were other denominations with a hole punched through their centers in both copper and bronze. I had yet to encounter a half-gold piece. Unlike the bronze and copper pieces, along the rim of both silver pieces was some script that I could not yet decipher, written in a language I had not yet encountered. As my mind played about with the numbers, so too did it play around with the idea of casting a spell of Identification on the unknown script. However, idle curiosity was not a good enough cause to spend precious Mana. Forcing myself to relax a little, I concluded that, overall, the inn¡¯s prices were reasonable, at least by my very rough estimations. It was not worth looking for other accommodation. This place would serve our needs fine. The innkeeper was probably not out to get us. We had never met before. These thoughts warred with my paranoia until I was finally able to get myself under control. What would be, would be, a mantra against the building pressure in my head. It was time to take a chance, the dice demanded to be rolled. Book 1: The Twisted Boar [Part 2] With my decision made, I nodded to Elwin who then counted out a week''s worth of lodging for us and put a little extra onto the counter. Just as the Rogue finished, he asked Athinad in a voice that would not carry far, ¡°Bit far from home Athinad, that¡¯s a southern name by the sound of it...¡± He was met with a grunt by the innkeeper. ¡°Travel bug took me, and my feet found themselves here. Nothing really about it¡±, Taper responded a touch defensively, ¡°Now what can I be getting you, lads?¡± ¡°Just saying, just saying, now what we could do with is a little information. Perhaps to the tune of the comings and goings in the city? Perhaps a place where some strapping young men can earn a bit of coin? Maybe even a place to wind down¡­ if you get my drift?¡± Elwin responded in a conciliatory tone while giving Athinad a knowing wink. I couldn¡¯t help but think that this was rich talk coming from a man who had recently been enslaved, then I realized that it was part of his act, giving the impression of normality. The innkeeper¡¯s brow furrowed, as if in concentration, before he deigned to answer the Rogue, ¡°Been a bunch of thieves operating around these parts recently, so keep a hand on your purses, I say. Small reward, too, from us local businesses if you''re able to catch¡¯em. Course, there¡¯s always work down by the caravanserai, they are always looking for strong backs,¡± he paused for a moment, looking us over. ¡°Of course, those of...a more combative nature may find the odd job or two at the Adventurers¡¯ Guild.¡± With such a delivery, I almost expected an intrusive quest prompt, but none were forthcoming. ¡°And entertainment?¡± burst the Rogue, the hunger for the diversions of the night clear in his eyes. Coughing slightly, the innkeeper replied, ¡°Well, there¡¯s usually a few games of chance and skill going round here, and there¡¯s a gambling house run by old Roi up by the Ark. But if you¡¯re into more bloodthirsty entertainment, there¡¯s the arena with its daily games,¡± Elwin looked at him, willing him to continue, ¡°Or...in the North Quarter is the pleasure district. Haven¡¯t had much in the way of time to actually get around to sampling its selections, business being business and all, so can¡¯t tell you much...¡± he added, as he cleaned a nonexistent stain from the counter. My nerves were on end, and I found myself wanting this whole exchange to be over as soon as possible. Hurry up and get us our room already, I thought to myself. The voices within painted a picture of me smashing Athinad¡¯s face in with a mining pick and taking in some delicious experience. Then I could loot his corpse for keys to the room, and there could also be money and treasure behind the bar... ¡°Your friend there, is he alright?¡± Taper asked Elwin in a low voice. ¡°We will take our rooms and a bath and, if possible, our clothes to be laundered,¡± I interjected before Elwin could respond, pulling myself from murderous thoughts that were probably not my own. I sighed with relief, glad that our plan was working. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. The innkeeper gave me a relieved look, his shoulders visibly relaxing, before handing me a set of copper keys. ¡°Up the stairs, second door on the left,¡± the innkeeper instructed. I nodded in thanks, and our party made our way up wood stairs that creaked ominously under our weight. At the top of the stairway landing was a narrow corridor with doors on either side. We entered a surprisingly clean room. I was expecting three separate beds and was surprised to see instead a large single bed big enough for three in the corner. Simple wooden shutters, secured by a wooden bar, could be opened to let the light or fresh air in. A single wooden chair, a side table by the bed, and three chamber pots in the opposite corner were the only other pieces of furniture in the room. A part of me had expected the locals to sleep like barbarians on the floor, so I was glad to have a proper, if not shared, bed and a solid roof over my head that wasn¡¯t just a layer of rock and earth. The tension that had been keeping me as taut as a bowstring and on my feet threatened to leave me as I thought of all of the risks that we had taken to reach this moment. However, rather than feeling truly safe, I simply felt just a lessening of the present danger. We decided to take inventory. Our current scavenged and looted belongings included a few mining tools, our old weapons, a few assorted valuable objects and miscellany from the cabins, basic camping supplies, and of course, the length of chain I had decided to keep. Four gold coins and thirteen silver pieces, with the rest of the coins in bronze and copper, were the sum total of our current wealth. The silver and gold we divvied up between us, agreeing that we should keep the copper and bronze for general expenses. At a rough calculation, I estimated their value to be at around five or six thousand pounds. The money in front of me, coupled with something that the innkeeper said earlier about gambling, sparked the beginning of an idea in my mind. I certainly didn¡¯t have enough funds to start a trade or business, but for the moment I had enough to survive for some time and find my feet in this world. The group unanimously reaffirmed that we would treat our stay in the city of Ansan as if we were in enemy territory. We would tread carefully with all our dealings here and try to keep a low profile, foregoing strong drink and other vices which could betray us. In that vein of thought, we decided it best that we went to the baths in pairs, with one of us staying in the room to watch over our gear. I would be naked and vulnerable, but my modern sensibilities demanded at least some level of hygiene as we assuredly stank of the road and the wilds. Our marks of bondage were no more, leaving us as free men. Fretting incessantly would only lead me down a dark path of suspicion and delusion. I had to remind myself that what would be, would simply have to be. Elwin volunteered to try to find a fence for our assorted looted valuables later, once we made ourselves more presentable. He also promised to trade for some new clothes, as having some spares would always be welcome. I first went to the baths with Elwin, entrusting Kidu to watch over our scavenged loot. A boy stood at a small counter near the baths; an eager, dark-haired, scrawny thing. We passed him the requisite coin to see to our clothes once we had placed them in the baskets. Bowing once, he hung some dull gray robes on two wooden pegs for us and left with our dirty garments. Book 1: The Twisted Boar [Part 3] We entered the baths proper through sliding doors. An old man, remarkably muscled, with jagged scars from past battles running across his body, rinsed himself before entering one of three large pools. Copying the old man¡¯s example, we cleaned ourselves as best we could with cheap coarse soap. As we scrubbed and scrubbed, the grime from our long travels slowly sloughed off us and, once we felt we were suitably clean, we entered one of the tepid pools. The feeling of embarrassment from my nakedness had long been scoured from me, but a sense of vulnerability remained, so Elwin and I would have to make quick our little bathing session. For a moment I remembered Harun, comparing him to the old man. They were of a similar build, but would he pose a similar challenge? I played out the murderous scenario in my mind and was even tempted to use an Identify spell on him, but finally decided against it. I needed to leave here and return to the relative safety of the room without incident. Although a hurried one, the bath did wonders for my morale, and Elwin looked supremely happy to be clean again. Scratching behind his back, he turned and said in a cheerful voice, ¡°I always do enjoy my weekly bath.¡± I did my best to hide my grimace. Hygiene standards in this world were obviously not comparable to my own. Sighing, I simply smiled back at the Rogue, before slipping into the warm water. Slowly, ever so slowly, the warm water began to soothe the myriad of aches and pains of my recent travails in a way that magic simply could not replicate. Looking at my body, I noticed that, despite receiving a number of wounds, I did not have a single scar on my body. I touched the place where my slave brand should have been, only to find smooth skin. Also, despite being at more than twice the Strength I was initially, there were no significant changes to my physique. I had the same very average-looking body that I always had. A quick gander at Elwin¡¯s body showed a surprising lack of scars for a man of his trade, but an intricate tattoo of an unknown design ran down from the nape of his neck along the line of his back. A few moments later, I realized that my magic had probably gotten rid of any of his scars along with the slave brand. Conforming with local customs and seduced by the relaxing pace, we moved into a hot drying room, adjacent to the baths. We sat on a wooden bench in a room reminiscent of a sauna, waiting to dry. I didn¡¯t try to engage Elwin in any conversation, and simply replied to his attempts at conversation with noncommittal grunts and half-thought-out replies. Once dry, we donned our loaned robes and went back to our room, where we relieved Kidu of his watch. Elwin, volunteering to take up the arduous duty of having another bath, quickly poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher by the bed before returning to baths with the wildman. Sitting on the bed, I finally had a little time to get my ducks in a row. I had traveled so far, ironically, only to return to the place of my imprisonment, albeit as a free man. I needed to get out of this city, sooner rather than later, once we acquired sufficient resources. There still remained a chance, no matter how slim, that someone might recognize me. Perhaps that would never come to pass; after all, I was probably presumed dead after the cave-in. Still, I wanted to leave this barbaric city and go somewhere relatively more civilized. But to do that I needed more cold hard cash. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. My short-term goals clear to me now, I spent an indeterminable amount of time running over a few things that I had learned. The names of the creatures I had encountered, the people I had met, my brush with death¡­ Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. ¡°Sir, your laundry is done,¡± piped a squeaky voice that had shifted from a lower octave, in the manner of adolescents just into their change. That was pretty fast service, suspiciously so, I thought to myself as I got to my feet. Opening the door, I stiffened at the sight in front of me. The owner of the voice was the boy from before, but for a moment I saw Jongshoi¡¯s face superimposed over his features. Reflexively, I began to reach for a weapon that was not there, before catching myself, and instead reached for the purse at my waist. Pressing him a bronze coin, I collected our cleaned laundry. He accepted the money gratefully and took Kidu¡¯s dirty garments which the Hunter had left outside the door. The boy was constantly bowing through all of this, until, annoyed, I finally closed the door in his face. Just as I was about to return alone to my thoughts, I was again interrupted, as my pair of companions burst into the room. It seemed that I had forgotten to lock the door. ¡°I see all our belongings are still here, congratulations on being able to stay awake!¡± joked Elwin as he plopped down next to me on the large bed. Kidu seemed a little more relaxed than usual, the bath having miraculously healed some of the shadows behind his eyes, a feat that even my divine magic could not. More significantly, he had hacked off his beard, and the difference was rather astonishing. His features remained untamed and rugged, but he looked less like a primal thing and more like a civilized man. ¡°Why did you decide to do away with your beard, Kidu?¡± I asked on a whim, hoping that I had not committed a social faux pas. ¡°A man grown in the north cuts his beard after a time of great shame or loss. This is how it has always been. It was I who led the raiding party south, and so the fault is with me. This is a small thing to remind myself that I am an unbearded youth,¡± replied Kidu, his usually loud voice unnaturally quiet before he added, ¡°But I feel a little better now after that cleansing. We, too, have hot springs in the north where the tribe gathers in the coldest of winters. This was most welcome,¡± he stated, simply to change the subject before he, too, lay down, and within moments, began to snore. I touched my own face in sympathetic reaction, noting that despite the amount of time I had spent in this world, there was no evidence of even a hint of stubble. ¡°The inn¡¯s serving in an hour, wake us up a little before then,¡± requested Elwin, yawning almost exaggeratedly and cutting off any further conversation, ¡°So sleepy...¡± It would seem I was to take this watch, so I began to devise plans for future experimentation. I still needed to try out a spell or two in controlled conditions, and for that, I would need test subjects. Dark whispers intruded upon my ruminations and a jarring and irrational thought played across my mind, was the boy from the bath spying on our group? I played with an equally irrational idea of experimenting on the boy, but thought better of using somebody too close to my place of lodging. Thankfully, I was in a city full of strangers I cared little for. Book 1: Practice Makes Perfect [Part 1] Research into the necromantic arts, sped up by the twins Need and Necessity, had opened dark channels into another plane of existence. Here, the sibilant denizens of the void promised a quick end to the war with something that was translated by the magical researchers as the ¡®Seed of Oblivion.¡¯ Grasping at a chance of total victory, the leader of the Republic accepted the dark bargain and brought the Seed fully into the world. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. I opened the shutters, drinking in the sights of the city before me. A steady flow of people traveled along the streets, a mix of travelers, merchants, and the occasional military patrol. These patrols were heavily armored and mounted on half-barded and intimidating horses. I gritted my teeth as I saw a chained line of miserable-looking slaves, their eyes hollow and their postures stooped in suffering. I was glad that Kidu was asleep, as I was unsure of how he would react upon seeing such a sight. I would need to have words with the large man to hopefully prevent him from potentially causing a scene in the future. Losing myself in thought, I watched the people of the city go by, and my mind went back to the old world. Years of constant study into the depths of the night had made caffeinated drinks my constant companions. I realized that I could probably kill for a simple cup of caramel soy latte, both figuratively and literally. After judging that about an hour had passed, more by instinct than calculation, I shook my companions awake. We changed back into our clothes, leaving the borrowed robes outside the room door. Kidu and I collected our meals on a tray from the innkeeper, paying him the required coins, which he took brusquely. The inn¡¯s repast was a red stew, which had a rich inviting smell, served in a simple earthenware bowl. Globs of unknown meat and the occasional shape of what must be some sort of vegetable was in it. On the left of the bowl was a simple side of what looked to be some sort of brown rye bread. The stew had a tangy taste, sharp and piquant, with an edge of hot spice. This was, without doubt, one of the better meals I had sampled in this world. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. The meal was filling, and my companions and I ate it with such great gusto that we almost had to stop ourselves from licking the bowls clean. Politeness was so ingrained into my very being, that I offered to return the trays. Descending the stairs, I went to the counter where Athinad was still busy cleaning some mugs and I left the empty trays there. He gave me a small nod in thanks. Turning back to return to my room I noticed that the denizens of the inn were all very deep in their cups. A flashing glint of steel caught my eye, as it flew like an arrow before it embedded itself in a target on the far wall. The blade quivered from the force of the throw causing a few whoops of joy and cries of disappointment from a small crowd. It seemed that the locals were engaged in a knife-throwing competition. My curiosity was piqued, and my earlier promise to treat this town as enemy territory was quickly forgotten as I made my way toward the crowd applauding the throw. ¡°Hey, hold up there, mate,¡± slurred a rat-faced man, blocking my path. ¡°Can¡¯t you see this is our little corner of the Boar?¡± ¡°No problems, Devon,¡± Athinad called out from the bar at the other end of the room. ¡°Jus¡¯ being welcoming, Atty boy,¡± Devon shot back, annoyance lacing his words like an annoyed fishwife, before glancing nervously at the shortsword at my hip. ¡°Not looking for trouble, Master Devon. Just interested in the game that you¡¯re playing. Looks rather fun. Perhaps I could have a try,¡± I said with feigned nonchalance. The man I was addressing, Devon, had a mop of unkempt dull brown hair that framed a face that perhaps only a mother could love. Narrow slanted eyes and pronounced front teeth added to his impression of an avaricious rodent. ¡°Fun, eh? You hear that, boys? Looks fun it is. And a ¡®Master Devon¡¯ to boot! This lad¡¯s got a good eye for persons of quality, he does! Feels like I¡¯m at court, I do! So, you fancy trying your hand against the best in Ansan, eh? Hope you got the coin and stones to back that up!¡± Devon guffawed along with his crew. ¡°Well, I never said anything of the sort,¡± I chuckled and held my hands up in agreement. ¡°Also, that would be difficult as I have never thrown a blade in my life before. You could at least make it a fair game if you taught me the rules and the basics of how to throw a blade,¡± I declared, playing the role of the easy mark. Seeing the potentially easy target, the men lurking behind Devon grinned like sharks before a feast of chum and laughed along with me. Book 1: Practice Makes Perfect [Part 2] Devon rubbed his chin as he looked me over, ¡°Well that won¡¯t do at all, will it, lads? Can¡¯t be letting it get said that Devon the Dirk is a dishonorable sort to be taking coins from unwitting lads like you, eh? Guess the ol¡¯ Dirk can teach you a thing or two on how to throw a blade. In return you could, you know, I expect a few coins for my time, being a ¡®Master¡¯ an¡¯ all¡± he said, looking at his crew behind him. ¡°An¡¯ perhaps a drink for all the lads so they don¡¯t start getting too restless.¡± Looking at Athinad behind the bar, I gave him a nod as I counted a few bronze coins out from my small purse. A few moments later, Athinad came round and served drinks of brown ale from utilitarian horn mugs, plonking them down gruffly before adding, ¡°Just to remind you, boys, no trouble you, hear?¡± ¡°We hear you all right,¡± Devon replied, his eyes rolling at the repeated nagging, ¡°Now this here is the game we¡¯ll be playing once you can hit the fat bum of a passing Laur. Hit the target over there, you take a swig. Miss the target and old biddy Taper over there goes up in a huff about us damaging the walls, and ye ¡®ave to drink two swigs. Like so,¡± Devon said, taking a quaff from his mug and burping loudly to the amusement of his companions, ¡°Now you¡¯ll be wanting to hold yer blade like this,¡± he indicated, holding up his blade for inspection before passing me a small simple throwing knife. It was a very unassuming weapon with a thin steel blade that flared a little in the middle, before tapering off to a sharp point. The handle was made from wood wrapped with rawhide, and it had a small bronze guard to stop the fingers from slipping accidentally onto the blade. Attempting to follow my new instructor''s example, I placed the end of the handle into the center of the palm of my left hand, with my middle finger closing the grip and my thumb on the side. My index finger rested along the spine of the weapon at the balance point of the knife. He grunted before taking another gulp from his mug. ¡°Not bad, not bad at all. You pick things up quick. Now the trick is...¡± He stood now, taking a loose stance and raising the blade behind his head. ¡°¡­is all in the timing of the release!¡± he said as he threw his knife. Without spinning, the blade flew unerringly towards the small wooden target on the wall, sinking a few centimeters into the wood. With a wide sweep of his hands, he took a quick swig from his mug and gestured for me to have a try, as if he was a director introducing a new character to the stage. I nodded to him, taking a stance that approximately resembled his. My Dexterity was reasonably high now, considering that I had started with a mere eight points, so I felt that I would have a good chance at picking this up. Lifting the knife behind my head, I tried to copy my teacher¡¯s throw, but released perhaps scant moments too early, and missed the target by a small margin. Devon clapped me on the back in commiseration, encouraging me to try a few times more, and explained in a slightly slurred voice that being drunk was the key to good knife-throwing. However, totally engrossed in my practice, I did not care to drink with the others or take part in any gambling. I did, however, continue to order a few more rounds of drinks in exchange for further friendly instruction. Devon would give me the occasional tip, shifting my stance on occasion, and giving me pointers on how to ¡®feel¡¯ for the timing of the blade. In time, I was hitting the target more often than not, and I was granted the notification that I had long been waiting for. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!
You have gained 1 Dexterity. You have learned Daggers (lvl.2) You have learned Throwing Weapons (lvl.1) You have learned Throwing Weapons (lvl.2)
It seemed that with proper instruction, I could gain skill levels much faster than just by messing about in the dark by myself. Daggers would be a useful proficiency to have in case I ever lost my main weapons, or if I had to engage in some up-close wetwork in the future. As a bonus, I had gained a point of Dexterity for my trouble and a tiny amount of experience. ¡°Thank you, Master Devon,¡± I replied with a small bow, which drew laughs from Devon¡¯s crew, but I could see that Devon¡¯s face was a little flushed with more than just alcohol. With the simple word of ¡®Master¡¯ I had appealed to his pride and had won him over. ¡°Where can one get such weapons as these? They have a fine balance and fly true.¡± His posture a little straighter, Devon smiled a little drunkenly and replied proudly, ¡°Go down along this road outside to yer left a little way, you¡¯ll see the sign of the Soot-Stained Pig Iron Forge. Basically, look for a black pig if you don¡¯t know your letters. Tell ol¡¯ Cillis Aideh I sent ya. She¡¯ll give you a discount if you buy ten,¡± he slurred the last, clearly inebriated, and I knew he would not be able to give much further useful instruction. Luckily, he had forgotten about our competition, for which I was grateful. For, as drunk as he was, he still had much better aim than me, which would almost certainly lead to my loss. I thanked Devon again, and the seedy-looking men behind him raised a drunken toast in my name. Though it had cost me a few coins, I was a little bit happy with my newfound popularity. I was even happier when I saw a new notification.
You have gained 1 Charisma.
Not bad, I thought to myself, as I turned to the bar and cleared my tab with Taper before I went back up the creaking stairs to my room. Entering, I saw Kidu and Elwin attending to the maintenance of our gear. The Hunter, considerately, had even fashioned a strap for my helm. I didn¡¯t have the heart to tell him that I was thinking of trading it in for something else at the earliest opportunity. ¡°That¡¯s it. My turn now,¡± Elwin said, rising from the floor like a hound that had just been let loose and dashed for the door. ¡°Try and find a place to sell the...¡± I tried to remind him as he went past me. ¡°Yes, yes, mother. And I¡¯ll try not to sink too deep into my cups, nor will I be losing my chastity this night!¡± he shouted back at me as he bolted down the stairs, probably to engage in a round of drinking. Upon hearing this, Kidu just grunted as he continued to diligently polish his spear, grinding out traces of rust with a coarse stone. Sitting down by the shutter, I decided to practice my magic. Book 1: A Slight Mishap* The human drive for order is evident in our daily lives, from the schedules we keep to the way we organize our physical space. We create rules and regulations to govern our behavior and ensure a stable society. However, the predictability of order can leave us feeling unfulfilled and stagnant. We crave the unexpected, the chance occurrence that brings excitement and novelty to our existence. Our attraction to coincidence and surprise is an essential aspect of the human experience. Therefore, while we may strive for order and structure, we must also embrace the beauty of randomness. It is in the unexpected where we find new perspectives and opportunities for growth. In the delicate balance between order and chance, we discover the richness of life. - The Just Realm by Gideon de Salavia 368 AC. The setting sun had cast its final rays, painting the sky with gentle hues of red and orange. The streets below were bustling with people eager to conclude their business and head home. Amidst the crowd, I spotted a merchant hurrying down the road, carrying several large packs. Accidentally, he collided with a tall, sturdy woman, and both fell to the ground. The bags burst open, and the goods spilled out like a wave. Street urchins, ever the opportunists, swooped in to loot what they could before disappearing into the throng of people. As the vultures made their escape, the merchant raised his fist, hurling a stream of invectives at them while the woman tried to assist him in retrieving the remainder of his possessions. Perfect, I thought, focusing on the unlucky merchant. I started to cast a spell, carefully enunciating the first syllables of the incantation. The words tasted vile, oily, and spoke of unspeakable things of the void. My human tongue struggled to articulate the otherworldly phrases clearly. As I finished the spell with a dark syllable, a group of gossamer-thin threads, as black as midnight, flew from me toward the merchant. I had cast the spell, Drain. The dark threads attached to the merchant, and I felt a trickle of sinister, yet essential, energy enriching my very being, satiating a hunger I never knew existed. At a primal level, I realized that I was sapping the poor man''s life force like a magical vampire. Did the spell restore Health? I had to find out, so I quickly drew a shallow cut across my forearm and winced a little. My skin at first seemed to resist the edge of the blade before I was able to inflict four points of self-harm. The man was still arguing with the woman and cursing the world in general at his poor fortune, almost frothing at the mouth, really. I continued to watch him, and I felt a single point of Health be restored. The cut on my arm began to close, and I continued to wait as the spell drained the man''s life force, gradually restoring my Health to its full level. The man looked slightly less animated now, his anger beginning to lose its rough edge as the woman kept apologizing. He shivered, perhaps from the evening chill, and looked around for the source of his discomfort, ignoring the woman''s constant apologies. I quickly ducked out of view, fearful that perhaps he had noticed my arcane meddling. Now, shielded from view, I took a moment to take stock and noticed that my Mana had ticked back up a single point. Simple arithmetic and deduction dictated that this new spell cost two Mana points to cast but could also restore Mana as well as Health. My heart was beating like a war drum, so I breathed in, slow and steady, to calm myself down. A second later, I reined in the dark threads of magic, and ended the spell. Would Drain also be able to restore my Stamina too? Kidu, done with tending to his weapon, was now engrossed in carving a wooden figurine of a small animal. Though it was still in its nascent stage, I could see that once finished it was going to be a six-legged creature of some sort. So intense was his concentration, that he must have been oblivious to my breakthroughs in the magical arts. That was perhaps for the best, as I doubted that he would agree to what I planned to do next. It was imperative that I test the full potential of the Drain spell, and to do so, I needed to deplete my Stamina. Rising from my seated position, I drew my short sword from its scabbard. Pretending to practice an imaginary sword form, I cut a few times at some imaginary opponents in front of me, watching my Stamina gauge deplete with each strike. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. I even used a few Power Strikes. The increased speed the skill gave to my strikes made my blade draw flashes of steel in the air. Keeping an eye on the lower left of my vision, I noticed that if I used the skill in quick succession, the number of Stamina used per Power Strike would increase. Still, although I had a prodigious amount of stamina, it was something to keep in mind. Feeling a little self-conscious and embarrassed about my made-up and amateurish display, I took a glance at the big man. He did not seem to have noticed anything, thankfully, and was busy chewing on a bit of jerky as he continued to release the creature from the wood. With my preparations complete, I cast Drain on one of the unsuspecting passersby below. To my satisfaction, my Stamina began to replenish at an accelerated pace. The spell indeed had the power to restore Stamina, in addition to Health and Mana. It was indeed a fantastic spell, and I thought to myself how useful it would be in the future. Elation surged within me as I considered the possibilities. I was still quite young, but if this spell truly drained life energy from others and added it to my own... The vampiric nature of the dark magic and the euphoria I felt suggested it could potentially extend my life. After all, who did not want to live forever? Yet, knowing the cruel and unjust nature of this world, it could simply be that the spell simply restored my Health, Stamina, and Mana. I was suddenly met with a notice that shocked me, utterly.
You have slain a Human, 20 experience gained.
What in the blazes? What madness was this? My mind was in confusion, for I was sure that no one had perished by my hand. The game¡¯s workings were strange, indeed, for twenty points of experience was a pittance for killing a human. However, experience points were still experience points, I rationalized to myself. As I pondered this sudden stroke of fortune, I fancied that I heard a faint, mocking laughter from the shadows, a sinister chorus of sibilant whispers that seemed to taunt me with their enigmatic meaning. Kidu put down his knife and the figurine and turned to me. In a serious voice, he asked, ¡°Are you finished with your practice?¡± ¡°I perceived you observed all of that?¡± I stumbled, my embarrassment leading my syntax astray. ¡°You saw all of that?¡± ¡°Hard to miss you flailing about,¡± he answered, repacking his belongings. ¡°No¡­ not that sword kata. Yes, I mean sword form. I mean, like, could you tell I was using magic?¡± I queried, still a little flustered. ¡°Your face. It is a good tell when you are concentrating. Seen it before, too, only twice, when you are waging war on stone and when you are doing your magic¡­ thing,¡± he said with a simple shrug of his massive shoulders. ¡°Kidu, talking of magic, do you know of any tales of people achieving eternity with it¡­¡± With almost impeccable timing, Elwin burst into the room, interrupting our conversation. His cheeks held the rosy hue of too much wine, and a sly grin played upon his lips as he recounted the tale of his exploits. We listened as he wove a tale of charm and subterfuge. According to the Rogue, it was his honeyed words that had won over the skeptical locals and led them to reveal the location of a fence who would buy our appropriated goods at a discounted price. As he finished his story, Elwin removed his leather boots and made his way toward the bed. But before he could climb beneath the covers, he spun around with a flourish and slipped a small, ragged bundle into my waiting arms. ¡°I remember...the promise I made to tell you what I knew about the arts. The Control,¡± he burped unceremoniously, and even at a distance, I could smell the reek of cheap alcohol. ¡°Got this on the cheap...damaged goods...but a... like za hat would be too much...¡± he finished, before falling into bed and snoring almost instantly. Upon closer examination, the bundle revealed itself to be a damaged book, devoid of a cover and bound together haphazardly. Holding it gingerly, I could see that it was missing many pages, and the ink had bled, rendering parts of it illegible. A book, at last. True, it was flawed, but it contained precious knowledge, nonetheless. As I inspected it closer, the first page revealed itself to be inscribed in the local dialect. Fortunately, it was penned in ¡®simplified¡¯ Trade, meaning I would not need to expend significant amounts of energy to comprehend its meaning. Delicately going over the old tome, I was extra careful with my fingers when touching the brittle sections of parchment. Hungrily, I poured over the text, using Identify to reveal the meaning of the parts that eluded or frustrated me. Through magical means, deduction, and inference, I began to establish an idea of the damaged tome¡¯s essence. It was a primer of sorts, for initiates in the study of magic and Mana. Eager for fresh knowledge, I locked the room¡¯s door and settled into my usual position. Holding the book in my hands as if it were a precious relic, I continued going over the text under the light of a dying candle. Eventually, the candle¡¯s light faded, and I was left in the darkness. No lanterns adorned the darkened street, and the moon was obscured behind a veil of clouds. The only illumination was that which slipped out from the shutters and doors of the homes and shops that stubbornly refused to call it a day. The city, even at this hour, was still filled with noise as people went about their business. If one listened closely, one could even hear the occasional crack of a whip in the distance, followed by a scream of pain. I shuddered for a moment, in a sympathetic reaction. I shifted a little on my chair and looked out into the evening, trying to enjoy a moment to myself as night fell, and my watch began. Book 1: Honest City Life [Part 1] It is wiser to traverse the journey in solitude than to accompany the fool. - Quassian Aphorism. While keeping myself revitalized with the Drain spell, I had borne watch for most of the night. It was only in the very early hours of the morning that Kidu relieved me of my duties to allow me a few hours. Throughout the night, the repeated use of the Drain spell allowed me to keep my Mana almost full. Moreover, my unwavering focus had elevated the spell''s level and augmented my Intelligence by a single point. Fortunately, no one broke into our room during the night to steal our belongings. I considered this to be a much-needed triumph. Much of the night was spent in contemplation of the book''s contents, particularly the enigmatic diagrams that tantalized my imagination with their intricate designs. I recalled that the Identify scroll I had absorbed contained comparable patterns in certain areas. The pages were adorned with mathematical equations in a paradigm I struggled to comprehend, and much of the text was marred by damage. Despite this, I was able to glean a rough overview of the workings of magic in this realm. It seemed that the manipulation of Mana could influence the fabric of reality, though the level of difficulty was determined by the magnitude of change required. From the incomplete manuscript, I deduced that the casting of powerful or intricate spells necessitated a greater expenditure of Mana to bridge the chasm between the caster''s "intent" and the present reality. Indeed, a fireball would indisputably have a more discernible impact on reality than a mere spark. Similarly, conjuring a blade of water in a parched desert would prove far more arduous than in a damp, marshy environment. This incongruity led me to question why my own magical abilities always had the same cost in Mana, fluctuating solely in correspondence to the spell''s present level and potency. The previous night had left me with a multitude of unresolved inquiries about the enigmatic nature of this realm. Filled with stolen energy and lost in the contemplation of these musings, I was far too excited to find sleep. I lay there on the bed awake and staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling, simply thinking. Once I felt that sufficient time had passed, I roused Elwin from his slumber a few hours later. The man slowly got up, still bleary-eyed from his rest. Despite his grumbling, I expressed my sincerest gratitude for his gift, the old primer on magic, an act he dismissively shrugged off as inconsequential. As it was still early, we opted to forgo the customary morning meal and instead dined on our travel provisions of tough, dried Laur meat. As I gnawed on the leathery jerky, memories flooded my mind of the time when the very same creature had attempted to devour me. Survival of the strong, I thought to myself, as I washed the meat down with some water that had long since grown stale. Our meal complete, we decided upon a plan for the rest of the day. Elwin would take care of selling the smaller ¡®higher end¡¯ bits and pieces we had acquired from the charcoal burners, while Kidu and I would sell the rest of the larger, less valuable equipment and search for work or other means of earning coin. It had also been decided that we would make a stop at a blacksmith or armorer to purchase some new gear. Kidu had expressed the need for a decent bow, while I desired a better helmet. Although my current helmet had proven its worth time and time again, aesthetics was still important to me. After all, a helmet was one of the most vital pieces of protection, but that did not mean it could not look good. I now understood why the ancients paid so much attention to the decoration of their armor. It was also as good a time as any to check my character sheet.
STATUS
Calling: Gilgamesh Level 10 Paladin of Avaria / Reaver Strength: 24 Dexterity: 19 Constitution: 34 Intelligence: 19 Wisdom: 17 Charisma: 11 Luck: 16 This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.2) Power Strike (lvl.2) 10 Endure (lvl.3) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.3) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.3) Polearms (lvl.2) Dual Wield (lvl.2) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) Mining (lvl.2) Unarmed Combat (lvl.3) Hammers (lvl.2) Flails (lvl.1) Maces (lvl.1) Shields (lvl.1) Medium Armor (lvl.1) Heavy Armor (lvl.1) Axes (lvl.1) Daggers (lvl.2) Throwing Weapons (lvl.2)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) 5 Rust (lvl.3) 1-2 Identify (lvl.2) 1 Silent Casting (lvl.1) Mana Regeneration (lvl.2) Purify (lvl.2) 3 Greater Heal (lvl.1) 10 Holy Aura (lvl.1) 2 Decay (lvl.1) 1 Drain (lvl.2) 2 Entropic Aura (lvl.2) 2
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% to all starting attributes. Mark of the Paladin: 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical. Touch of the Void: 10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects.
Experience to next level 2447/2583
Health: 230/230 Stamina: 53/55 Mana: 12/13
Book 1: Honest City Life [Part 2] As we left the room, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Practicing my magical skills had boosted my mental faculties, as well as gaining me some nominal experience. Learning how to throw daggers, too, had added to my accumulated experience total. Climbing down the creaky stairs, I went to the bar and cleared our drinks tab from the previous evening with Athinad. It appeared that Elwin had been a bit too liberal with our expenses, but I deemed it necessary to view it as a business investment, for if we could find a buyer for our trinkets, the cost would prove worthwhile. Such was the price of civilization. Knowledge and information were paid for in coin or in favor, and in that moment, I was not in the mood to be giving out favors. Emerging from the inn, we strode along the main thoroughfare for a spell. The flow of wagons and beasts was still sparse at this early hour of the morning. A curious creature, resembling a larger and gentler incarnation of the Tree-Laur I had chanced upon in the woods, crossed our path. Its six squat limbs hauled a diminutive wooden cart, freighted with wares. I debated casting Identify on the creature, but decided it was simply better to ask my companions first. ¡°Keep forgetting you don¡¯t know much about anything,¡± remarked Elwin unhelpfully. ¡°It¡¯s a...¡± ¡°Plains-Laur,¡± Kidu finished for him, drawing a shrug from the Rogue as he continued on like a farmer plowing a field. ¡°They make for good eating.¡± Elwin rolled his eyes. ¡°Plains-Laur, a bit more expensive than horses and definitely more temperamental. They got a lot more stamina, if not quite the speed of a good horse. Can¡¯t say I care much for them, except as my large and learned friend has mentioned, they make for good eating,¡± he expounded, making sure to enunciate the last part carefully. Kidu just grunted at this, and dodged a middle-aged man carrying a wicker basket over his shoulders. I grinned at the pair¡¯s trifling banter, my thoughts fixated on the potential experience points the creature would yield, rather than its epicurean value or its merit as a mount. We reached a corner of the road dominated by a large yurt-like building, when Elwin suddenly declared with a cheerful smile, ¡°Well gentlemen, this is where we¡¯ll be needing to part ways a while. I¡¯ll see what I can do about selling these old bit¡¯s n¡¯ bobs with a local fence and get a little lay of the land. You two have fun selling our other junk for what you can and let¡¯s meet back before sundown at the Twisted Boar,¡± he said, eager to be off. ¡°Fortune favors you, Elwin Tucker,¡± Kidu rumbled, holding the Rogue¡¯s eyes for a moment, causing Elwin to run one of his hands through what remained of his hair, nervously. Looking sheepish, the wiry man walked off into the crowd, turning around one last time before throwing us a wave. There was no doubt that Elwin was still a bit of a mystery to me. He had proven dependable enough so far, a reliable blade to be called upon when needed. Yet, I could not help but feel a nagging sense of doubt about his motivations. The man had clearly lied about his backstory before. Continuing down the road, which was now slowly filling up with more traffic, Kidu and I passed a stooped old man who looked to be some sort of tinkerer, setting up his simple iron goods on a tarp along the side of the thoroughfare. Kidu and I approached him. The looming presence of my companion towered over him and cast a large shadow across his humble wares. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Oh, hello there, sir!¡± said the startled trader, almost jumping at the sight of the large man as he finished setting up a display. ¡°Wha...what can I do for you today?¡± I bent down before his display, touching some pots and pans as if feigning interest in the quality of his wares, before getting down to business, ¡°Good sir. A fine set of products, you have. And it so happens that we possess certain goods of similar quality that may be of interest to you," I spoke in a tone that conveyed both courtesy and purpose. Meanwhile, Kidu, comprehending my unspoken instruction, began to unpack our array of mining tools - the trusty picks and shovels that had served us so well. It was time to see if I could pass an extortion roll. ¡°We have a few things you might be interested in. Of course, being an honest and healthy merchant, you will give us a fair price for these, won¡¯t you?¡± I said, smiling coldly in a manner I hoped was slightly threatening. I had little patience to dicker about the price. The Hunter¡¯s massive presence alone ensured that we would be treated fairly. Completely shrugging off my implied threat, the tinkerer proved to possess more backbone and mercantile savvy than I had initially assumed. His voice was unwavering as he offered his assessment. ¡°These tools appear to be of inferior quality, lacking in any identifiable maker''s mark, with considerable wear and tear. That pick, in particular¡­" he explained, pointing at the one I had most recently wielded in the mines. "¡­has seen better days. I can only offer you five bronze for the entire lot." He stared me down with steely eyes. It could have been my lack of Charisma, or perhaps his shrewd instincts as a natural-born trader, but the man was well aware that I lacked the fortitude to drive a hard bargain. In the end, it would be my loss. I really needed to work on my delivery. "Add another five copper to the sum, and we shall consider it a fair exchange," I relented with a tinge of resignation in my voice. The tinkerer''s face split into an avaricious grin. "Agreed," he stated calmly, though the unmistakable gleam of greed shone in his eyes. Only a fool would fail to recognize that the snake of a merchant had come out on top of this particular deal. Whilst engaged in the trade with the tinkerer, I couldn''t help but overhear a hushed conversation between two women as they walked by. "Did you hear about Marda? She lost her child last night, just walking down this very street. The midwife says she may never be able to bear children again!" one of the women whispered a little too loudly, as if sharing a delicious secret with the world. "I heard the same thing! Poor Marda believes it was a curse of witchcraft, cast upon her as she passed by that accursed inn, the Curled Boar or something. Some say they, too, felt something sinister. Even old Gus was assailed by the demons of the night. It''s enough to warrant the attention of an Honored One. Who knows? It could be foul magic or the handiwork of foreign spies!" her friend commented with a nervous giggle at the delectable piece of gossip as they gradually receded from earshot. A pang of guilt briefly assailed me for a microsecond, but I quickly redirected my attention to the tinkerer. He reached into a light blue knapsack that was slung over his shoulder, deftly counted out the coins, and deposited them into my awaiting palm. I bid the trader farewell, inclining my body slightly in the customary local bow, while Kidu offered him nothing more than a resentful look as we continued on our way. I handed Kidu his share, which consisted of one bronze and eight copper pieces. He tried to refuse, but I insisted, reminding him of his duty to bring wealth back to his clan. Even if I had been ¡®cheated,¡¯ I would not do so with my own companions. Book 1: The Soot Stained Pig [Part 1] It is a fact that true malevolence weaves its way through the delicate balance of intentions, both virtuous and vicious. Let us not deceive ourselves, for it is essential to acknowledge that such wrongdoing is unequivocally wrong. -The Just Realm, by Gideon de Salavia 368 AC. Soon enough, we were able to find our way to the Soot-Stained Pig. It was a medium building, two stories tall, and constructed from large blocks of locally quarried white alabaster stone. A cast-iron sign hung over the entrance, depicting a large black pig and an anvil in the background. The unoiled hinges squeaked in the breeze. The sounds of the forge could be heard coming from within, rising above the general hubbub of the city. As we entered the shop, the clanging of metal on metal filled our ears and drowned out the sound of the heavy wooden doors that closed behind us. The air was thick with the heat of the forge, and we could already feel the sweat beginning to bead on our foreheads. Our eyes were immediately drawn to the woman at the anvil, her full figure commanding our male attention as she rhythmically hammered away at a bar of red-hot steel. Her brow was furrowed in fierce concentration and her hair was slick with sweat and pulled back into a simple ponytail. Tilted coal-black eyes peered out from an oval face at the work in front of her. We stood there, unnoticed, as she deftly picked up the piece of steel with her tongs and quenched it in a liquid that glistened like oil. She did not notice or acknowledge us, as she was completely focused on her craft. As we were in the presence of a master at her craft, Kidu and I held our tongues in respectful silence and I took the opportunity to observe our surroundings. Weapon racks lined the walls, filled with an array of vicious battlefield implements. In glass cases, delicate and ornate items encrusted with jewels and other precious stones were on display. The establishment boasted a varied collection of arms and armor, from the simplest of bronze daggers to a masterfully crafted, fully articulated set of plate armor. The armor was a true marvel, a work of art that appeared as if it had been sculpted out of flowing steel. After finishing her task, she set down the tongs and placed her gloved hands on her generous hips. Looking Kidu up and down, she greeted us, with a smile on her lips. A single delicate eyebrow arched itself in curiosity as she asked in an alto voice, whose timbre resonated with the heat of the forge, "Do you see something you like?" As I lifted off my helmet, I stumbled over my own tongue, struggling to find the words. "The Dirk¡­ I mean Devon vouched for this establishment and suggested we seek out an Aideh Cillis¡­ I mean a certain, certain Cillis Aideh for a fair price. Our aim is to barter a few items, yet primarily to purchase," I managed to blurt out. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The woman''s amusement was clear as she surveyed us, laughter sparkling in her eyes. "Cillis Aideh at your service. That wily old scoundrel still breathes, I see. I fear his fondness for liquor and games of chance will lead him across the Shallow River one day, but I can''t fault him for bringing me trade. So, what can I do for you?" she inquired, her tone becoming all business. ¡°I was wondering if I could trade this in for perhaps a new one of iron or steel?¡± I asked, holding out my helm. ¡°Open or closed?¡± she countered. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± I stuttered, at a loss for words and not completely understanding the context. ¡°Helm,¡± she responded, rolling her eyes and tapping her head. A blush crept across my cheeks as I weakly answered, ¡°What would you recommend for my companion and me?¡± I looked to Kidu whose gaze was still roaming over the items on display. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± She paused, crossing her arms in thought. ¡°Closed be a bit harder to breathe in, can¡¯t see as well either. But I¡¯d still recommend one if you''re going to be getting into lots of scraps. A visored helm would probably give you best of both worlds, but that¡¯ll cost you a pretty penny, and they can be a devil to maintain in the field.¡± ¡°To be honest, madam...¡± I began again before being interrupted. ¡°No need for a madam, I¡¯m not that old yet,¡± she interjected, a slight edge to her voice. "Well, yes, Ms. Aideh, we have a budget of about four gold between us," I stated simply, hoping that Elwin could procure more money for us from the sale of our other loot. "We both need to be fully equipped, and we can trade these," I said. I spread out the Laur hide, two spare Zajasite stones, two pairs of Echo-Stalker weapon claws from the drones, and my Echo-Stalker scythe daggers. I also placed, albeit hesitantly, my simple length of iron chain on the counter of the shop. Cillis surveyed our wares, her delicate lips pursed in contemplation as she caressed the scythe daggers. "A rare find, these Echo-Stalker claws from the deep places. Exotic. There must be a demand for them somewhere, but I''m not sure where to begin. I can offer four silver for the smaller ones and six for each of these daggers if you''re willing to take store credit. Three and five if you need the coin now," she mused, slipping off one of her gloves and tracing her fingers sensually over the animal hide. "This Laur hide is a beauty, a Tree-Laur, if I''m not mistaken. My husband, Khisam, could fashion something splendid with it. I''ll throw in another silver for it. As for the Zajasite stones, they''re of low quality, so I can offer five copper each, and three for the chain as scrap. Just because the big chunk of muscles here is easy on the eyes," she beamed, wiping her face with the back of her hand, which left another trail of lingering black. I could not help but notice the playful way she looked at Kidu. "Khisam!" she bellowed, turning her back to us and hollering up the stairs. "I need your help with some fittings!" Book 1: The Soot-Stained Pig [Part 2] Following the smith''s advice, I bought a second-hand visored steel sallet with a sturdy bevor, as well as the heaviest leather and steel brigandine they had that could be easily fitted. Black canvas was riveted onto the plates of the brigandine, and the armor also came with a cloth gambeson that had butted mail attached and sewn across the arms. For leg armor, I chose simple iron greaves with chainmail leggings. I would have to keep my leather gloves for the time being, as I simply did not have the budget for new gauntlets. Also, a further loss of dexterous motion might prove fatal in a future conflict. I tried to persuade the smith to craft a flail out of the chains I had placed on the table, but she found the whole notion absurd. Instead, still perplexed by my choice of weapon, she proffered me a reasonably priced spiked iron flail that exuded a menacing aura, and she paired it with a basic kite shield that I could easily sling over my shoulder. The pommel of the weapon bore a sharp spike, while at the juncture where the chain met the handle, heavy flanges of iron construction were affixed, enabling the weapon to also function as a simple mace. The ball of the flail was forged of heavy metal, had five small spikes on its rough surface, and was attached to the handle of the weapon by a short heavy chain. The weapon was called a Tsengelt-tum, and the smith promised to teach me the basics of its use later for another two bronze. I also decided to buy an old leather sword belt that sported a bronze buckle, as well as hooks for suspending weapons and gear. In addition, I procured a set of three well-balanced throwing knives. As a final thought, I exchanged my looted short sword for a parrying dagger. The dagger was marked down due to it being one of her apprentice''s initial works, and its quality was uncertain. However, it was an eye-catching piece. The weapon bore a striking resemblance to a 15th-century blade, with recurved bronze quillons that angled slightly upwards towards the blade. A groove at the base of one side of the blade permitted the thumb to obtain a firmer grip, while a shallow fuller ran across half of its short length. The blade itself seemed to emulate a lethal serpent in motion. Upon observing my inquisitive expression, Cillis divulged that the ripples in the blade were designed to weaken the impact of a strike against the weapon and slow down an adversary''s blade. A slender man descended the stairs, stumbling over his own feet as he struggled to carry various items. This could only be Khisam, I mused to myself. Khisam was a shrew of a man, and I found myself perplexed by his match with Cillis. Despite his relative youth, he had begun to bald well before his time. His furtive nature, slightly hunched back, and large bespectacled eyes only added to his shrew-like countenance. He followed his wife¡¯s orders almost without question and with almost mechanical efficiency, his hands a whirlwind of activity as he fitted my gear to me, occasionally informing his wife of my measurements. The raven-haired woman took her time teaching me how to properly equip my arms and armor, as well as how to maintain them. Her hands provocatively lingered a little too long in places, doing so in front of her husband, as if she enjoyed the thrill. She also, with much amusement at my expense, showed me how I could relieve myself when fully armored. I was relieved to discover that my gear, though weighty, was not as unwieldy as depictions in contemporary media had led me to believe. Adorned in thick layers of leather and sturdy metal, I felt considerably more secure. Kidu, after much consideration, settled on a scale mail cuirass and chainmail protection for his arms and legs. He was adamant about not wearing a closed helm, citing the importance of his senses in combat. However, after some persuasion, he agreed to don a chainmail coif. Instead of a shield, he opted for a thick steel gauntlet, complete with articulated fingers and metal plates covering his arms. Cillis referred to it as a ¡®Shield-Gauntlet,'' and it brought to mind the fierce Murmillos of ancient Rome. For his weapon, with great reluctance, he exchanged his old one for a steel boar spear, with small iron lugs that sprouted underneath a long leaf-shaped blade that ended in a sharp tip. It would take some time for Khisam to make the necessary adjustments for Kidu''s large size, so Cillis invited me to the back of her smithy where I found a small open area surrounded by a fence. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Approaching a straw training dummy, she turned around to give me a dazzling smile and began her instruction. "Now, I would be a poor smith indeed if I didn''t understand how to use the tools that I make. Make no mistake, boy, these are tools and nothing more. The flail is a difficult weapon to master and lacks a little power, because you can''t put your full weight behind it. But it''s a tricky thing, the flail, capable of wrapping around someone''s guard or letting you attack from a different angle. Now, remember when you hit a solid target, you''ll need to follow through..." ***** I didn¡¯t know whether it was my single point of proficiency in Flails, my higher Dexterity, or the combined experience from all of my fights until now, but Cillis'' instruction came easily to me. She pointed out flaws in my stance with a whisper close to my ear, warning me to always keep my shield up and not rely on my weapon for defense, as one would with a sword. After what felt like hours of training, the world finally informed me that I had gained in skill.
You have learned Flails (lvl.2)
I was a little disappointed that I hadn¡¯t had an increase in attribute points, but still pleased that I had made some martial progress. Though nowhere near a hardened warrior of legend, I felt I had at least begun to take the first tentative steps on that path. Emboldened by my recent achievement, I turned to the attractive, raven-haired smith with a playful grin. ¡°So, you and Khisam, how come you two...¡± I began before she silenced me with a finger to my lips. ¡°I¡¯d prefer the big man, but you¡¯ll do. This will be just a little secret between us. Come,¡± she said in a bold sultry voice filled with sensuous promise as she led me by the hand to a tool shed in the corner of the yard. Was this a trap, some ploy, or scheme, I briefly wondered, before I was suddenly trapped in the raw power of the moment. Her fingers traced the line of my face, gentle and delicate like a butterfly''s touch, as her lips drew closer to mine. I could feel my heart racing in my chest. ¡°You are very young aren¡¯t you,¡± she observed playfully, a devilish smile playing on her full, red lips. Her eyes bore into mine, full of mischief and seduction. ¡°If you promise me one thing¡­ I might be willing to teach you something else¡­¡± she whispered, her voice low and enticing as she pushed me back against the rough wooden wall of the shed. My mind went blank as I hung on her every word, completely under her spell. But even in the heat of my lust, a dark part of me wanted to wrap my hands around her delicate neck and extinguish her life. How easy it would be to gain some quick experience. How sweet and satisfying it would be... But suddenly, a call shattered the moment, coming from outside the shed. ¡°Cillis!¡± cried Khisam in his shrill, whiny voice. ¡°Yes, dear!¡± Cillis answered hastily, leaving me behind and abandoning me to my unsatisfied desire. For long moments, frustration welled up inside of me. Drinking deeply of the stale and musty air of the shed, it took all that I had to force cold clarity to return. As much as I wanted her, I couldn''t deny that it was probably for the best. Yet still, I damned Khisam for interrupting us. Damn him. Humiliated¡ªno, emasculated¡ªwas what I felt as I joined the others back in the shop. Kidu¡¯s gear, now adjusted to his size, stood out in stark contrast to his rugged form. Studiously avoiding Cillis'' gaze, I paid her for her time, training, and goods in a weak voice tinged with guilt. Promising to return if we needed any more purchases in the future, I could barely meet her eyes. As if offering a parting gift, Cillis even recommended a stall in the market to acquire archery gear for the Hunter. All the while acting as if nothing had happened between us. With our business concluded, we left the shop quickly, driven by my yearning to be anywhere but in the Soot-Stained Pig. After all, we still had chores to finish before the day was done, I justified to myself. But even as I wallowed in my embarrassment, I couldn''t help feeling that in this world, I could experience a full range of human sensations. Hopefully, pleasure would be included among them. Book 1: A Measure of Vengeance* Elven mages felt the horror of the void for the first time as it touched their minds. Many of their number went mad and unleashed the sum total of their magical energies. Those who kept their sanity failed to shield the rest of their brothers and sisters, their own defenses overwhelmed with the outpouring of wild entropic magic that ate away everything it touched. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. My heart continued to thump wildly in my chest, and my body felt uncomfortably warm. Gasping for air, I lifted my helm from my head and secured it to my belt, hastening my stride to match Kidu''s lengthy gait. Though my thoughts repeatedly strayed to the shapely contours of Cillis'' form, I forcefully banished her from my mind and calculated our remaining funds. Our acquisitions and trade dealings had left us with five and a half silver coins of varied denominations. This was a sum that, according to the couple, more than sufficient to acquire a decently crafted bow and a modest amount of arrows from a recommended bowyer in the market. To help save some money, Kidu even told me he could make his own arrows, provided he had the tools and appropriate materials. It was around lunchtime by the time we made it to one of the markets near the central Ark, which loomed even more as we moved closer. The scale of the beached ship simply blew away the mind, its sleek lines and sheer size defied engineering for a culture at this level of technology. It was my belief that such a creation could only have been achieved through magical means. The market square was much as I remembered it, busy with the sound of trade conducted by scores of merchants from all across the Grieving Lands. All sorts of goods were being sold here, from mundane kitchenware to purported magical artifacts and relics of mysterious power. At the other end of the market and opposite our current location, there stood a structure that I surmised to be a temple, chiseled from the indigenous white alabaster rock. A golden dome, towering towards the heavens, competed with the Ark for supremacy in the city''s skyline. Minarets, like sculpted stone sentinels, were situated at each of its corners. Positioned at its entrance were two guards adorned in shining suits of heavy plate armor, wielding towering, bladed polearms. Devotees of the faith walked between them into the inner sanctum, bowing as they crossed the threshold in veneration. The deity or deities worshiped inside would however remain a mystery to us, as we had more pressing concerns to attend to. Our stomachs rumbled, and Kidu and I were focused on one thing alone. The alluring scents of barbecued meat and exotic spices drifted through the air, tempting us with their delectable aroma. Scanning our surroundings, we eventually pinpointed the origin of these smells. On a sizzling hot griddle, a hunched-over man of indeterminate age was cooking thick pieces of meat on a stick, basting them on occasion with a honey-colored glaze. Kidu and I ordered one each in exchange for a few coppers, and we bit down on our meals in excitement. The hot and spicy taste was rounded out with a unique grassy finish. Kidu, unaccustomed to such flavors, found himself in the midst of a gastronomic epiphany, his eyes almost glazed over in bliss, much to the amusement of the seller. We quickly placed another order for several more skewers. As we indulged in our meals, two merchants across from us were caught up in a lively discussion regarding an upcoming event, ¡®The Festival of the Undrawn¡¯, which was to be held in a far-off city whose name escaped me. I listened as their words ebbed and flowed, the topic piquing my curiosity. Yet, for now, I remained content to bask in the flavors of the moment. Once our considerable appetites were sated, we rinsed our hands in the lemon-scented bowls of water kindly provided by the cook. I adjusted the shield strapped to my back, feeling that I was finally being rewarded for all my suffering. This was the fantasy I had always yearned for! The sight and sounds from this exotic and alien world captured my senses, and I was glad to be present in the moment without the distraction of a connected device. In my previous life, I would have feverishly recorded the meal on whatever gadget was currently in vogue, instead of living and savoring the memories and experiences. Such thoughts, however, were nothing but an elegiac lament for a way of life now lost. No, that was merely a polite deception, I told myself. I did not harbor much sorrow for the world I had left behind for I had traded superficial and trivial pleasures for the opportunity to pursue power. This trial had given me a precious gift. A chance to forge a new identity and become someone of worth. Here, I could find purpose. My mind returned to the present, recalling our primary purpose for visiting the market. Following Cillis'' instructions, we soon found the bowyer displaying his wares on a wooden stall. The bows on exhibit ranged in length and type; from one-piece longbows to composite recurve short bows made of exotic-looking horn material, wood, and metal. Each was securely fastened to the stall with a length of small steel chain. In one corner, an ornate crossbow drew my eye. Its sleek lines and steel wings emanated raw threat and deadly purpose. I knew from my studies that training an effective archer could take many years, but a crossbowman could be trained in just a few weeks. My mouth was almost salivating at the thought. I knew I simply must have one like it someday. Behind the wooden stall, sheaves of arrows and bolts lay in wooden barrels arranged in a neat row, with their prices written in the local script. Noticing my interest, the man behind the stall rubbed his hands together and came closer. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. I greeted the bowyer, who looked no more than thirty, except for the lines around his eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks. He was a dark-haired man of above-average height, but he looked positively small standing next to the blue-eyed giant that was Kidu. His hooded, calculating brown eyes met mine as he returned my greeting. "Hello there, the name''s Ashan. I am a humble bowyer of Ansan City, selling the finest bows in all of the Grieving Lands," he said, his lines coming off as rote despite his friendly tone. ¡°Looking for a bow,¡± Kidu rumbled in his deep voice, looking down at the man. ¡°Yes,¡± I added, ¡°Cillis the smith of the Soot-Stained Pig recommended you to us, Ashan. What can we get for three silver for my friend here? And, out of curiosity, how much is that crossbow going for?¡± I inquired. ¡°Ahh, you have a fine eye, good sirs! And a friend of Cillis is a friend of mine. That is a weapon from the faraway island of Quas, all the rage these days with the nobility, they say. A fine specimen like this one? For you, a special price, just a single gold piece!¡± the merchant exclaimed, smiling and rubbing his hands together. ¡°As for a more modest choice for this large gentleman, I would recommend this excellent weapon here,¡± he answered, gesturing with exaggerated motions to a single-piece unstrung longbow of almost two meters in length. ¡°This is what I require,¡± said the giant simply to the merchant, looking him steadily in the eye. ¡°We¡¯ll take it if you can throw in the string for the bow and a discount on some arrows,¡± I said quickly, not really wanting to bargain, and eager to conclude our business. ¡°Very good, sir,¡± Ashan said obsequiously, pathologically rubbing his hands in glee, ¡°That will be three silver for the bow, and half a silver for some hunting arrows and forest spider silk string from the Sainba. Consider the quiver a gift for a first-time customer.¡± I paid the merchant his money, impatient to be on my way. Kidu held his new bow, unstrung, like a staff as we walked. It was clear that our funds were dwindling rapidly, and as we strolled along the outskirts of the busy marketplace, the realization weighed heavily on my mind. Putting all our trust in Elwin''s assurance of finding a fence would be unwise. I couldn''t help but wonder if there was a way to earn some much-needed coin quickly. The thought gnawed at me like a hungry animal. I stopped in my tracks for a moment, as the scene before me became suddenly familiar. This very street, I had witnessed it from a wholly different vantage point, when I was imprisoned in the cold confines of a cell. A wave of anger threatened to overwhelm me, for we were near the jail where I had been incarcerated when I first came to the city of Ansan. The guards at the entrance were lazily leaning on their spears, indifferent to the bustling traffic passing them by. Their faces were vaguely familiar but distinguishing one local from another proved challenging. We walked past them, and I pulled my hood further down, hoping to avoid recognition. However, a small part of me longed for them to recognize us, yearning for a quick and violent confrontation. As compensation for their failure to recognize me, I made a point to etch their faces into my memory and vowed to return one day. The temptation to incinerate them in their metal armor almost overwhelmed me. I forced the impulse down until my anger grew cold. Calculating. The gods or fate, however, would soon deliver unto me a welcome present. A lightly armored man was retching into the mud in an alley between two wooden buildings, just opposite the jail. I smiled at Kidu, a knowing grin tinged with a hint of madness. The wild man looked at me quizzically but followed me nonetheless as I stalked toward my prey. Softly whistling a forgotten tune, I cast an Identify spell at the poor man struggling with the contents of his stomach. My confidence grew with each stride as I closed the distance.
Bataar Jargal - City Guard Recruit (Human lvl.7)
Health: 62/71 Stamina: 18/25 Mana: 7/7
My eyes quickly assessed the man''s weakness and vulnerability as I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, feigning friendliness. Murmuring his name in a concerned tone, I drew my newly acquired dagger with a swift and fluid motion, slicing his throat. Blood and vomit mixed as he gurgled his last breath, and I propped him up against a building, his mouth frozen in a silent scream with crimson liquid flowing down his front. My deception was seamless, and to any casual observer at a distance, I was simply a concerned friend. A few moments passed, and I watched the light slowly fade from his eyes. I saw fear there¡ªthe fear of the end¡ªand a part of me resonated with that emptiness. A breath later, received a notification of the man''s death, accompanied by a paltry twenty experience points. I tsked to myself as I rifled through his purse, which contained only a handful of coppers. Truly pathetic, in every sense of the word. For a fleeting moment, I pondered whether the reward for experience points was proportional to the difficulty of the kill. Whatever it took, I was determined to avoid meeting a similar end. Death, its dark oblivion, terrified me. The voices within concurred, pleased with my conclusion. My heart pounded in my chest for what felt like an eternity as we made our way down a few streets. Suddenly, Kidu''s eyes hardened, and his mouth formed a grim line. He spoke rare words to me, his hunger evident in his gaze. "That was a well-struck blow in the name of vengeance." A guffaw escaped me, grateful to be spared a sermon on the inviolability of mortal existence. "The next one shall be yours, I vow," I offered, to which Kidu responded with a resonant, earthy chortle. It seemed as though a shadow had been lifted from him, a darkness I had not perceived until that moment when his smile broke through, sincere and unfeigned. At long last, he was unshackled from the chains of impotence that had bound him, some of the gloom in his eyes dissipating. Book 1: The Sands Once More [Part 1] Every strike must be filled with the deadly intent of damaging your opponent. Your attacks your defense, your defense your attack. You must be the discord in your opponent¡¯s sword song. - The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus circa 520 AC. We flowed with the tide of the cloth city, distancing ourselves from the scene of the crime, my mind understanding what I had just done and my steps growing lighter. My senses soon picked up on another rumbling, as my eyes laid upon a large gathering of people, the sounds and howls of combat familiar to my ear. Kidu and I made our way toward the origin of the sound. A crowd of people surrounded a large primitive fighting pit dug into the ground with crude wooden walls around its perimeter. Its floor was lined with white coarse sand the color of bleached bone with rough benches and boxes to hold the spectators. The fervor of the crowd swelled like a living, breathing beast, its very pulse stirring the air with a palpable ferocity. The place was bereft of the scale and thin veneer of civilization and pomp of the place where I had made my first kill. This sordid arena was just a place to satiate man¡¯s bestial base desires. Two men, clad in archaic-looking armor and weapons resembling the Greek hoplites of antiquity, were fighting to the raucous cheers of the crowd. Money was constantly changing hands, as people looked to make their fortune on the next clash of steel. I asked Kidu to clear us a way to the edge of the pit so that we might observe the fight more closely. His bulk parted the crowd like a leviathan of the deep cutting through a school of lesser fish, and I followed closely in his wake until we reached a good vantage point. A man with a spear and shield was facing off against a man equipped with two straight swords of differing lengths. They seemed evenly matched in terms of speed and skill, but the sword wielder appeared to be tiring. The spearman was willing to accept the brunt of his attacks, keeping his distance and baiting the swordsman with his spear¡¯s longer reach. The two fighters disengaged from each other, and I took that moment to quickly cast Identify on both. The magic came to me easily, but for the first time more slowly, as if the energy was flowing through a resistor. I surmised that my slower casting may have something to do with my new thick armor.
Arvan Azzarik - Gladiator (Human lvl.13)
Health: 191/191 Stamina: 24/39 Mana: 9/9
Gaven Tolaris - Gladiator (Human lvl.15) If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Health: 187/187 Stamina: 12/38 Mana: 7/7
The two fighters were, unsurprisingly, Gladiators. The casting confirmed what I had previously observed without the aid of my spell; they were closely matched in ability. However, the spearman Arvan, having more Mana than the swordsman Gaven, seemed to be the ¡®smarter¡¯ fighter. His wily tactic of baiting his opponent into making ineffectual attacks was slowly draining away the Stamina of his enemy. Suddenly, the swordsman engaged in one last desperate gamble. He seemed to split into two identical images, as he began his new assault against the spearman. Gaven¡¯s blade became a whirlwind of steel, crashing against the spearman Arvan¡¯s guard in a lightning tempest of blows. In turn, Arvan¡¯s shield became a blur of motion, intercepting all of the savage blows. The display appeared to be as if born from magic, well beyond the scope of normal martial prowess. Why isn¡¯t he shouting the skill?¡± I whispered to my companion, remembering my own fight with Jongshoi. Looming over me, Kidu had to hunch, his armor restricting him slightly and forcing him to bend at the knees, as he half-shouted in my ear over the roar of the gathered crowd. ¡°Only those who have just started down the path martial do so as a way of learning the weapon forms. Once one becomes adept, it is as instinctive as breathing,¡± he finished, nodding to me slightly. I realized now the distinct advantage I had gained by having progressed along both the magical and martial paths. The gamer inside me concluded that I had created a synergy of sorts; I could use Power Strike with Silent Cast to mimic the effect of a higher Skill proficiency. This also meant that the two fighters in front of me, as well as my companions, were, at the very least, adept fighters in skill. The fight would be decided soon. The swordsman was exhausted after his last roll of the dice, drawing great gasping breaths, his twin swords lowered in exhaustion. The spearman led with his shield first, bashing through his opponent¡¯s guard and finishing with a serpent¡¯s spear at Gaven¡¯s neck, forcing him to drop his weapons and yield. Half of the crowd went wild, and the others threw now worthless pieces of paper on the ground in disappointment. The two fighters exchanged comradely handshakes, before leaving through iron portcullises at opposite ends of the fighting pit. Soon after, a woman just before her middle years, with auburn hair that seemed to glow in the afternoon sun, sashayed seductively across to the center of the pit. She was clad in a clinging green dress that left little to the imagination as it accentuated the graceful lines of her magnificent figure, exuding a subtle feminine power with each step. A silk sash of deep crimson encircled a delicate waist that widened into full hips and gold bracelets, inlaid with precious stones, jangled at her wrists. Between her generous bosom was a large, even more heavily jewel-encrusted, medallion, stylized in the design of the twin horns of an auroch. Skin, an ochre like the mellow-brown light that had bathed the forest, colored a still comely feminine face that spoke of a once unrivaled beauty in her youth. This beauty was juxtaposed by a jagged scar that ran across a now-blinded white orb of an eye. The woman¡¯s good eye was a deep jade green, and an elegant patrician¡¯s nose lay above a set of sensuous red lips that were arched in a knowing, seductive smile. Raising both hands, she began to address the crowd with a ringing voice that echoed around the fighting pit, ¡°People of Ansan, the next event is the match that you have all been waiting for! Today¡¯s fight to the death! Wily human versus savage orc! Who will be victorious?¡± she paused as the crowd¡¯s roars drowned out all sound. She allowed time for the crowd to quiet down, the silence eventually pervading the prolonged gaps before she resumed her introduction, ¡°I give you the Bonegrinder of the Longfang tribe! He comes to Ansan, the jewel of the Grieving Lands, to win wealth and renown for his people. Many have fallen before his mighty blade, and he wishes to test his might against only the strong!¡± Book 1: The Sands Once More [Part 2] The crowd went wild again in excitement, as the much-anticipated spectacle of blood drowned out any semblance of human reason or reserve. A portcullis was raised and a huge olive-green orc, clad in thick heavy hides, burst into the arena with a bestial roar that challenged the crowd. The orc had huge ivory tusks that jutted out from an extended underbite, his porcine eyes searching the crowd for any that would challenge his dominance, as he continued to beat his chest with one hand. His other hand held a massive fearsome war cleaver, almost a meter and a half in length from handle to tip, the edge of its dark iron blade pitted and worn from a hundred battles. I quickly made sure to cast Identify on the orc, eager to know his strength, and once again it took longer to complete the spell than usual.
Gnarlug Bonegrinder - Warrior (Orc lvl.14)
Health: 280/280 Stamina: 47/47 Mana: 4/4
Such was her control, the woman simply raised a single dainty hand, crusted with fine rings, to cast a silence over the crowd. Another portcullis was hoisted with a grinding of gears. ¡°I also give you Vidone Amantea of the island of Quas! A philosopher soldier of the great university! Today, will intellectual might best ferocious savagery? Will this down-on-his-luck student be able to pay the fees of that most hallowed of institutions?¡± she announced in a loud clear voice to the laughter of the boisterous crowd. The woman was playing the crowd well, teasing out their steadily rising excitement like an experienced conductor. A willowy, young, brown-haired man near danced into the arena with a winning smile that dazzled, and bowed deeply at the hip to the astonished crowd. How could this thin wisp of a man ever hope to defeat the dreadful-looking orc? My question was soon answered. As he executed a flamboyant sword flourish to the ¡®oohs¡¯ and ¡®aahs¡¯ of the spectators, I cast Identify on him.
Vidone Amantea - Duelist (Human lvl.22)
Health: 341/341 Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Stamina: 47/47 Mana: 12/12
As I finished the spell, the wiry man looked worried for a moment, his smile faltering slightly as he searched the crowd for a hidden threat. Had he felt the touch of my magic? My brow furrowed. This was most disconcerting... Vidone was elegantly clad in a finely cut blue cloth jacket and trousers, with brass buttons and high leather boots. His hair was tied back in a simple ponytail and white ruffles adorned his jacket and shirt at the neck and cuffs. Warm amber-brown eyes were set in a gaunt hawkish olive-brown face with a strong aquiline nose. Adding to this, his jawline, ending in a sharp chin and predatory casual grace gave the overall impression of a bird of prey. In his left hand, he carried a long needle-like rapier with a basket hilt and a bejeweled ruby pommel, its flashing blade tracing a line of steel as he executed another sword form. Vidone was a clear plant. The human¡¯s physical attributes were clearly superior to the orc, despite appearances seeming otherwise. He was also eight levels higher, which clearly cemented his chances of winning. Thanks to my magic, this was clear to me; although apparently not to others in the crowd, who clamored to place their bets with a bookkeeper behind a long wooden counter. At a wooden counter behind iron bars, money was quickly exchanged for stamped betting slips. A man was writing down names under the watchful eye of two burly guards, who loomed menacingly. On the other end, at a different station, a bored-looking man was shuffling papers and taking a few bets from the braver members of the crowd, who placed their fortunes on Vidone¡¯s delicate blade. Kidu and I moved over, and the bored man behind the counter looked over at us before greeting us in a dull monotone voice bereft of the spark of interest. ¡°How much...and your name, please? Odds are twelve to one on the Quassian,¡± he said in utter disinterest, barely looking up to meet my eyes. ¡°Two silver, the name is...¡± I paused for a fraction, suddenly realizing that it wouldn¡¯t be the best of ideas to give my real name. ¡°Elwin Tucker,¡± I finished confidently, causing Kidu to tense up for a moment before relaxing again. Placing the lion¡¯s share of our remaining funds on the counter, I gave the bored man an assured smile. He quickly wrote the amount, alongside the false name I had given on a small piece of parchment before marking it with a stamp that glowed a dull blue as it made contact with the paper. This was the third magical artifact I had encountered since coming to this world, and for a few minutes, I gaped like a fish out of water. The betting clerk, noticing my reaction, explained matter-of-factly, ¡°A truth-seal, it guarantees that bets are honored at Ansarai¡¯s Fighting Pit,¡± before passing the slip of paper to me and then turning to take the bet of another man. I had to fight to suppress my excitement. I had never gambled before in the old world, preferring to always play things safely. For the first time in my life, I felt the seductive thrill of truly risking something, similar to how I had felt when I had been engaged in battle. It was even better, for I was almost one hundred percent certain that I would win, and at that moment, I understood why some fell on the addictive path of gambling. Book 1: The Sands Once More [Part 3] An unspoken communication was made between the bookkeepers and the woman who was strutting on the sands, her mix of latent violence and sexuality still intoxicating to behold. The woman exited the fighting pit, a signal for the fight to begin. The crowd returned to the edges of the ring as the two fighters began to warily circle one another. The orc beat his chest in savage fury, challenging the diminutive man. In response, Vidone simply raised his rapier to his face, kissing the hilt, before adopting an en garde position. The bestial brute then charged directly at Vidone, waving his giant cleaver in front of him in wild arcs, seeking to overpower the Duelist with his raw strength and brutality. But wherever the orc swung, the small human simply wasn¡¯t there, the green monster¡¯s dark iron blade missing him by inches as he swayed left and right, ducking and weaving through every blow. The crowd went wild, lusting for blood. Dodging a particularly clumsy thrust, Vidone took a moment to bow to the crowd. Like a lone matador baiting a bull in the tercio faena, he knew how to put on a show. He danced around his opponent with eminent skill. The orc was beginning to weaken as exhaustion took its toll. The duelist met Gnarlug blade to blade, needle-thin rapier against brutish war cleaver, parrying each and every one of his attacks with a delicate flick of the wrist, to the astonishment of all. This time, Vidone was beginning to draw blood with blindingly fast two-tempo counters. His elegant sword wrote the script of death in sweeping strokes and flourishes, leaving shallow red lines across the barbaric green warrior¡¯s skin. Seeing the vast difference between physical skill and ability, I knew then that the orc¡¯s loss was all but certain. Still, with the likelihood of him losing, I did not want his potential death to go to waste, so I readied a spell. His death would add to my power. Gathering my magic to me, I cast Drain silently, sending the thin threads of the darkest gossamer midnight to attach to the now rabid orc as he swept a mighty horizontal slash at the small man. Unlike my use of Identify, my Drain spell seemed to be unimpeded by my new heavy equipment. I surmised that perhaps this was because they were different types of spells. I would have to leave such musing for later, as I observed the results of my magic come to fruition. Sensing something afoot, the skilled swordsman paused for a fraction of a moment, which threw his next parry off. Unable to divert the kinetic energy of an upwards slash, the lighter blade failed to stop the cleaver from smashing into the Duelist¡¯s guard. Although the two combatants were probably similar in raw Strength, the same could not be said for mass, as the force of the blow lifted the willowy man several meters into the air only for him to crash down a second later. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Nonplussed by this turn of events I kept my spell going, still reeling from surprise as I held my breath, praying for the slight man to get up as the orc¡¯s life energies kept flowing into me. My greed for sweet experience and power was ruining my plans. The crowd was silent, until Gnarlug followed up with a smashing blow, seeking to end the life of the duelist. By some miracle, Vidone evaded it by a hair¡¯s breadth, desperately rolling to his left with none of his practiced elegance. This caused the crowd to go wild once more as the fight to the death resumed. The playfulness had left the smaller fighter¡¯s eyes. Gnarlug¡¯s lucky blow had served as a call for greater caution on the pearl sands, the duelist¡¯s confidence clearly shaken. Through a gash in his elegant blue jacket, I saw the silvery flash of delicate chainmail that had stopped the edge of the blade, if not the full force. The blow that connected must have been so powerful that, even partially deflected, it had grazed his chest. The much smaller man¡¯s moves were now less flamboyant and a lot more practical, as he lightly avoided his opponent''s attacks, his facial expression growing more serious as the exchange drew on. Then, almost without warning, it was suddenly over. The small man bent slightly at the knee and then moved so quickly that he simply seemed to appear behind the large primitive warrior, before plunging his thin silvery blade through the back of the orc¡¯s heavy skull.
You have slain Gnarlug Bonegrinder. 75 experience gained. You have gained 1 Intelligence.
A great silence descended on the crowd. As the notification of the orc''s death filled my vision, the giant monster slumped to the white sand with a heavy thud. My eyes darted over the scene before me¡­those movements were too fast for someone of the mortal realm to accomplish unaided. I shifted uneasily; the realization dawning that beyond doubt some form of the arcane arts had been employed to assure Vidone¡¯s victory. Book 1: Fortunes Favor [Part 1]* The short-lived races too were ravaged by the horrors of the great beyond, their delicate psyches overwhelmed by the total fear of the end of all things. Those who had the gift of magic were consumed in a conflagration of magical energies which started a chain reaction throughout the rest of the world. Only those who had fully given themselves to the path of necromancy had any defense against the great psychic cry that consumed any of those who had a spark of magical aptitude. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. I gasped in sweet blessed relief filled as my lungs remembered to breathe with the notification of the brute¡¯s death. Placing my hands on my knees, my armor suddenly felt heavy as I grew a little weak. After the relief came euphoric joy. I punched a fist into the air, delighted that my gamble had paid off. Despite my joy and good fortune, I could not shake a lingering sense of fear. Beneath my excitement, a foreboding feeling gnawed at the back of my mind. It reinforced my desire to make sure my Health was never reduced to zero¡ªwhether by an enemy''s hand or the specter of death on the distant horizon. Death, I realized, was a poison we drank the moment we were born, sometimes swift, sometimes slow, but always certain. And, like many things in this world, even Death was reduced to a simple number heavy with meaning. Mind wandering, I almost bumped into the counter. The bookkeeper looked at us over horn-rimmed spectacles as I handed him my betting slip, ¡°Got lucky, didn¡¯t we? Who would have thought that he could have won against the orc, eh?¡± His tone of voice was a lot more animated now and he seemed a little nervous. ¡°Still, we always honor bets placed at Ansarai¡¯s,¡± he finished quickly, sneaking a look at the hulking guards behind him wielding long halberds that gleamed to a polish shine. The guards were clad in heavy and well-worn coats of plate, their hard eyes looking at us as if drinking in all the information they could for later recollection. ¡°Aha, that comes to two gold and two silver pieces,¡± he said, almost sweating. ¡°¡­that was the biggest wager placed today on the Quassian, congratulations... ahh... err... Mr. Elwin Tucker.¡± A few moments later, he reached into a sturdy-looking metal money box and handed me my winnings. I noticed the money was a little short. ¡°I think...¡± I began before I was cut off. Used to this common question and reading my expression, he answered succinctly, ¡°Gambling tax, a city ordinance here in the pits for winnings over two gold pieces.¡± Looking at the guards, I tried to read their expressions, but they all looked like marble statues looking into the distance. I would get no quick answers there, and I did not want to cause a scene. Pocketing my money, I was delighted by an unexpected notification.
You have gained 1 Luck.
Smiling to myself, I realized there was still much I did not know about this gamified world. How on earth was it possible to train Luck? It seemed that, in this world, gambling was the answer. In what way did Luck even affect me here in this world? Such musings would have to wait for another day. The shadows had started to grow long, and it was high time we made it back to the inn to regroup with Elwin. I had to get used to living in a world where civilization had not completely conquered the night. Before we started to make our way back, I made sure to split my winnings evenly with Kidu. Never having had a lot of material wealth, a loose attitude towards money was one of the things I could never stand in the old world and was the cause of some friction in my previous relationships. Still, having a gold piece in my pocket put me in a more financially secure frame of mind. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. On our way back we had another celebratory meal of some spicy meats-on-sticks at a small food stall, savoring the sweet flavor of victory. We learned that the stall owner¡¯s name was Elbeg, and we promised to come again. On a whim, I also bought a rough gray linen robe from a clothing seller who tried to convince me to buy some fancy-looking garments that were beyond my means. Inspired by Vidone¡¯s performance and the usefulness of hidden armor was what probably powered most of that decision. Also, my initial starting robe had been stolen from me when I was inducted into the life of slavery. A sentimental part of me wanted a symbol, if nothing else, of freedom. We didn¡¯t pass any more of the Plains-Laur, which disappointed me a little, as I wanted to take the time to cast Identify on them. Instead, I spent my excess mana casting Identify on the script I could see written on shop signs, understanding now that, thankfully, the Trade language was phonetically written. I shuddered to think of the amount of Mana I would require, were it to have used ideograms. From a young age, I had always enjoyed reading, even taking the time to read the cereal boxes at breakfast. At the very least, now I could understand the shop signs and simple notices, but what I really wanted to sink my teeth into were books. Elwin¡¯s ¡®present¡¯, though extremely insightful, was growing limited in the knowledge I could glean from it. I wanted to know more, and not just about magical equations and arcane knowledge. I wanted to know more about this world outside my limited scope! Almost chomping at the bit to get my hands on a book, even a mundane one, I wanted some information that told me about the stories and histories of this new world in written form. While these idle thoughts and wishes were running through my head, we made good progress along the Eastern main road that eventually led us back to the inn. Of note was a purple-colored yurt that was belching ochre-colored smoke from a stone chimney set in its center, much to the disgruntlement of its neighbors. Two wizened old wives, hunched and stooped, were deep in conversation next to the yurt. They wore what seemed to be the traditional clothes of the Children, colorful deels with wide open sleeves tied with silk sashes, and gossiped and complained about the noise and smell of their neighbor. I read the sign that was staked in front of the strange yurt which read ¡°Hamsa¡¯s Wondrous Apothecary.¡± Interesting, I thought to myself as we walked past, this was probably where I could acquire potions like the one that Degei force-fed me after my torturing. The memory alone brought to the fore of my mind emotions and feelings that induced, in equal part, both rage and a powerful urge to vomit. Turning the corner back to the main thoroughfare, I accidentally bumped into what I thought at the time was a wall of hulking metal. Catching myself before I truly lost my balance, I looked up to see a man clad in heavy steel scale armor. The edges of each overlapping section of armor were trimmed with bronze or copper and polished to a mirror shine, giving the impression that he was clad in the hide of a mythic sea creature. His helm was in the form of a snarling reptilian beast. The face that looked out from within was a patchwork of fights won and lost, grizzled features scarred by battle with cruel Asiatic eyes that looked down at me with smug casual disdain. In his left hand, he held a long halberd, the fearsome curved blade erupting from the mouth of the dragon at the end of the shaft. ¡°My pardon,¡± I began to mouth automatically, modern-day politeness still ingrained in me even as my companion, who was flanking me, began to grow tense. It seemed that the man I had inadvertently bumped into was but one of many, an escort for a well-to-do couple. The escort numbered four men, all clad identically to the man before me. At the center of their formation was their master, a rich-looking man with a long thin mustache clad in the local custom. He wore a rich sunset orange deel that was of an expensive cut. At his waist, a scarlet silk sash circled a portly frame grown to excessive fat. The master condescendingly accepted my apology with a nod, no doubt to him a form magnanimous noble largesse, and waved away his formidable guard. The woman at his side looked at me in shock, however. Gasping, she covered her mouth as if she had seen a ghost. The woman was perhaps just on the cusp of middle age, beautiful golden rings decorated her crow black hair. She must be shocked at my impertinence at delaying her progress through the city, I thought to myself. Seeking to avoid further insult, I ground my teeth and hurriedly added a further apology. ¡°Apologies to you and your guard. We had best be on our way,¡± I said bowing low and as ingratiatingly as possible, drawing a haughty snort from one of the guards. I hurriedly indicated with a few hand gestures to Kidu that we should make our exit quickly. Kidu shot the armored entourage a brief, defiant glare, ensuring he didn''t appear intimidated, yet avoiding provocation, before trailing behind. Book 1: Fortunes Favor [Part 2] We finally arrived back at the inn sometime in the late afternoon to find Elwin drinking a stein of ale at the bar. He gave us an insouciant smile before finishing one of his tall tales with Devon. They were both laughing with each other, trying to outdo the other with their tall tales of derring-do. Finally, once he was done, he turned from his drinking companion and greeted us. ¡°Finally! You lot are back? I see you are going for a new look. Hrmm, yes, very menacing. We were just talking about you. Why don¡¯t you pull up a seat and let''s exchange stories? I had a right old fine time today, I tell you!¡± ¡°Thank you, Elwin, but no. I think we should all retire to our room for a moment to catch a breath. We would of course be delighted to hear your good news there,¡± I answered, none too sarcastically, making sure to emphasize exactly what I wished to occur. The earlier encounter with the local nobleman and his guards kept playing in the background of my mind. My thoughts kept replaying the scene, my mind grasping for something that kept floating out of reach. There was something missing, but I was distracted from my ruminations as Elwin finally answered me. ¡°Ahh, I see, of course, pardon me,¡± he replied, draining his drink and patting the old rogue Devon on the shoulder like an old friend, ¡°was lovely talking to you, old pal.¡± Surprisingly steadily he got to his feet and followed us up the stairs to the room. Upon entering our humble lodging, I resisted the urge to flop down on the bed in full armor, instead settling for the chair by the shutters, which I opened. Kidu chose a comfortable corner, his bulk completely filling it up, while Elwin sat on the bed, his hands steepled together as if deep in thought. ¡°Alright, let me start,¡± coughed Elwin as he began, ¡°I was able to meet up with several fences, or merchants that didn¡¯t ask too many questions. None of our pieces of loot was particularly special, but you never know, eh? Anyways, I was able to get together just a little over two gold pieces, how you lads do?¡± Two gold pieces were a lot more than I had been expecting. I thought he would have gotten a few silver at most, so I couldn¡¯t help praising the Rogue for a job very well done. Perhaps he was worthy of trust after all. I told him about my adventures of the day, minus my moment of raw intimacy with Cillis, which impressed him to no end. We split the proceeds of the sale among us and he offered to place a few silver on my bets in the future. However, gambling could not be our main source of income. It would simply draw too many eyes, and if word got around that I was using magic to ease the odds in my favor, things would not end well for me. I decided to make my position on the matter clear. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°There is no harm in gambling for the occasional bit of coin, but I would prefer it if we didn¡¯t draw too much untoward attention. We¡¯ll need a way to make some honest money. Now, I¡¯m not much into the gig economy.¡± They both looked at me a little puzzled before I continued, ¡°One-off odd jobs I mean. We¡¯ll need something a little more stable. Remember, Taper downstairs? Didn¡¯t he mention something about an adventurer¡¯s guild or something?¡± I tried to suggest. Kidu just shrugged, willing as always just to follow my lead, but Elwin, as always, had something to say. ¡°Probably means we¡¯ll have to head back there,¡± he pointed in the general direction of the forest, ¡°The Grieving Lands are a dangerous place for adventurers. Hunting beasts to fill a rush order from a tanner, or to get ingredients for an eccentric alchemist is one thing, but monsters are well¡­ it''s in the name, isn¡¯t it? They¡¯re dangerous, I tell you!¡± ¡°What is the difference between an animal and a monster anyways?¡± I responded, a little confused. The pair looked at me dumbstruck before Elwin slapped himself on the head after he remembered my background. ¡°Of course, we have a budding scholar on our hands after all. An animal is a creature that is a natural product of nature, and more importantly, they all fear, or at least, interact with the races of man as nature intended. A monster is something that will purposefully go about to harm man, beyond the simple reasons of food and territory,¡± he said with great patience, as if talking to a child. ¡°You mean, just like mankind?¡± I flippantly commented, enjoying the reaction on his face. I thought that, even then, the definition was still far too vague. ¡°A philosopher too. We¡¯re actually the real monsters?¡± he snorted, waving both hands in the air in a mocking fashion. ¡°You truly know nothing,¡±. He almost spat before continuing. ¡°There are things out there that will give you nightmares for the rest of your life. But if you must know, they say that, somewhere in Quas, there is a book with all the known species in it, recorded before the first cataclysm. They say anything after that, anything that Iasis, in her twisted mind created is categorized as a monster.¡± He finished on a tired note, which put an end to my impromptu lesson, reminding me of just how little I knew of what was considered common sense in this world. ¡°Well, if it''s good money, I say that we at least have a look, maybe even register,¡± I persisted. ¡°At the very least, I would assume that being a member should provide some protection against possibly being enslaved after being lulled into a false sense of security by being plied with drinks in the late afternoon,¡± I said the last pointedly, but all too aware of my own little hypocrisy. Besides, something in my gut told me it was an avenue worth pursuing. I made sure, however, to add something I knew would be dear to the Rogue¡¯s heart. ¡°There is bound to be treasure somewhere along the way!¡± Elwin grinned up at me, and even the taciturn Kidu seemed to spruce up at the mention of treasure. ¡°Well, I guess a few nights in the rough can¡¯t be too bad,¡± the Rogue considered, testing the waters. ¡°Where you go, I will follow. I am sure there will be worthy opponents to wet my spear,¡± intoned the giant man in a voice that rumbled like a big cat, loyal as always. And so, it was decided. We would become adventurers. Book 1: Symphony [Part 1] The High Elves in their hubris think themselves at the pinnacle of all things cultural, yet when was the last time their bards composed a new song? Their poets'' new verse? Their tailors a new cut of fashion? Theirs is a legacy of stagnation that permeates all aspects of a society that has not seen change in millennia. What I have done in ten years their best could not do in a hundred. They call us the ¡®children of the day¡¯, but I view them as nothing more than a collection of youthful-looking old men set in their ways and bitter crones lamenting a world that once was. It is not the length of one¡¯s life that is the measure of one¡¯s legacy, but one¡¯s accomplishments. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. Still excited by the day''s events, we all mutually decided that our trip to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild could wait until morning. There were, after all, just so many hours of daylight. Kidu wanted to familiarize himself with his new equipment, and he held his new spear almost as if it were a lover. Elwin, on the other hand, wanted to go shopping and to see more of the city. I wanted to voice my disagreement but realized he was a man fully grown and could take care of himself. What else helped sway my opinion was that he was able to purchase some new casual linen clothes, including simple gray tunics and loose trousers for Kidu and myself. Before the evening meal, I chose to practice some of my skills and ventured downstairs to request a few favors from the inn''s proprietor. Clanking down the creaking stairs, I saw that the common room was half-full, the locals already beginning to fill the place as they finished their shifts. I spied the innkeeper Taper mopping up a recent spill on the floor with an irritated look on his face. Waiting for him to finish his chore, I sat down next to the bar. Eventually, he finished, and served another customer a large measure of ale in a horn stein before finally turning to me. ¡°What can I get you for? Evening¡¯s meal not for about another two hours or so. I¡¯ll take your order now then if it pleases quick, gots to check on the stew in a bit, see if it''s nice and tender. Oh, I can see you¡¯ve got some new gear, hardly recognized you,¡± he said perfunctorily, barely looking me in the eye. ¡°Actually, I was wondering if you had something that I could measure time with. I¡¯d be willing to make it worth your while if you had perhaps a sand clock or something?¡± I said as casually as I could, relaxing on my stool. He looked at me a little curiously before answering earnestly, ¡°Most folks here just look up to the sun, lad. But, if you¡¯re wanting to be a little more precise, I can sell you an old cooking timer, measures about one hour. Let¡¯s say for about three bronze pieces. Don¡¯t have much need for it now these days.¡± ¡°That would be much appreciated, Taper,¡± I expressed, genuinely pleased, and slid three bronze coins across the bar. ¡°Two more ales, good innkeeper,¡± one of the locals shouted from somewhere near the back. ¡°Be with you in a moment Jefra, just getting something,¡± the innkeeper replied tersely, pocketing my coin before heading to the back room. I waited for perhaps a minute or two before Athinad returned with a small bronze hourglass filled with fine black sand, perhaps fifteen centimeters in height, at a rough guess. It wasn¡¯t particularly beautiful, but it certainly looked practical, with small indents on the glass that demarcated ten-minute intervals up to an hour. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Placing it on the counter he looked to me and inquired, ¡°Have no idea what you¡¯re wanting with this, and for three bronze I really don¡¯t care either way. But can I do you for anything else?¡± ¡°No, thank you kindly. This will do just nicely,¡± I said as I got up off the stool, feeling a little stiff around the waist due to my armor. I stretched for a moment before cradling the hourglass in one of my hands. I nodded once more to the innkeeper, who was already taking another drink order, and made my way back to our room. Athinad¡¯s shrill voice followed me up the stairs, ¡°Don¡¯t forget! The evening meal¡¯s in two turns of that glass!¡± he shouted. I couldn¡¯t help but smile to myself, as I finally had a way to measure time. This meant I could more precisely measure the scope of my abilities, instead of relying on blind guesswork. The game world seemed to agree as I was gifted with another notification as I clanked my way back up the stairs.
You have gained 1 Wisdom.
Opening the door, I was greeted by the sight of Kidu inspecting his new weapon. I greeted the wildman and was given a small grunt in return, as he was so engrossed in his work. Checking my status, I made note that my Mana was at two points after having cast Identify at multiple shop signs throughout the day. I settled into the chair, took off my gloves and cast Identify on a random passerby to bring my Mana to exactly one point before turning over my new hourglass.
Hallise Randefor - Baker (Human lvl.8)
Health: 88/88 Stamina: 29/29 Mana: 9/9
I quickly dismissed the unimportant information and, with a little time on my hands, I decided to join Kidu in the maintenance of our gear. I stood up from the chair and took off my robes and armor, feeling a small sense of relief as I removed my heavy brigandine. Next to come off were the gambeson, bevor, and my visored helm, followed slowly by my iron greaves and chainmail leggings. Looking at my equipment I couldn¡¯t help but feel a little impressed with my layers of protection. Remembering Cillis¡¯ instructions concerning the maintenance of my armor, I checked over my new equipment. I did this more out of a need to form a habit than actual necessity. This did not last long, as often my thoughts would wander back to my time with the smith in the tool shed. Shrugging off those distracting thoughts from my mind, I focused back on the task at hand and finished my inspection. I could see now why the warriors of antiquity had a very personal relationship with their armor, as my hands roved across the hard surfaces. Each piece was designed to soften a blow or turn a blade to protect the wearer¡¯s life and was deserving of respect and care. Once I had finished the ceremony of the maintenance of my arms and armor, I gazed fixedly at the hourglass. The sands continued to trickle down until, finally, the top half-emptied, marking the end of an hour. Soon afterward my Mana ticked up by a single point, signaling the success of my experiment and establishing a baseline for my Mana regeneration. I did not require ¡®rest¡¯ in the traditional sense of most games to restore my magical energies. Book 1: Symphony [Part 2] With another hour to go before the expected evening meal, I flipped the hourglass over and informed Kidu that I would be going downstairs to take a bath. He just grunted and nodded knowingly as he continued sorting out and familiarizing himself with his own gear. Going down the stairs again, I tried to pay Athinad for the use of the baths. However, the innkeeper waived away my payment with a quick smile saying that it was included with the clock I¡¯d bought. Soon after, he called the boy to see to my laundry. Again, just the mere mention of that boy drew feelings of irrational suspicion to the fore of my mind. Entering the baths, I was able to ease some of the tensions of the day as the hot water began working its magic on my knotted muscles. I would have to ask the innkeeper later how he heated the water. The Children of the Tides, for all their barbarity, definitely did have a good understanding of water and plumbing. It would be interesting to see how magic had affected this society¡¯s technological development, or lack thereof. After a good soak and a stay in the dry room, I returned to our rooms and left my borrowed bathrobe at the door for the boy to collect. I felt another stab of irrational fear; was the boy spying on us again? I quickly dismissed that thought and conversed with Kidu, asking him about his life in the north of the continent whilst he helped me don my armor once more. Kidu spoke of his people, who inhabited a massive area of frozen tundra known, in his language, as the Kar-Kaphon, which directly translated meant the ¡®Trial of Man.¡¯ The group of people who lived their life there was called ¡®The People of Trial,¡¯ or ¡®They Who Are Tested.¡¯ The people of the North were then broken down into many independent tribes, each named after their totem animal. Kidu¡¯s own tribe was named after the great bears, which they venerated as totem animals. Like the Eskimo of Earth, with their vocabulary for snow, the northern tribes had many different words for the myriad of tests that their savage land brought. The elements tested their fortitude, the beasts and ever-hungry semi-sentient Ice Drakes tested their cunning, and the harshest of winters, requiring great sacrifice from the older members of the Tribes, tested their resolve as a people. There was even a word for leaving the arms of a passionate lover to enter a cold blizzard for the good of the tribe. Life in the furthest reaches of the North was difficult and short, with every day a raw struggle to survive in the icy wastes. So harsh were the conditions there that the mothers of the tribe would hold a funeral ceremony for each babe on the day of their birth, and would give them a name only once they reached their tenth birthday. They only celebrated each decade of life and a man or woman who had seen five such celebrations was seen as a venerable elder of the tribe and earned the title of ¡®Icewalker.¡¯ These highly esteemed people were well respected and their voices were heard and given due weight at tribal gatherings. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Their women, more resistant to the rigors of the cold, were highly regarded and often held positions of great esteem within the tribe. When the survival of the tribe depended on level-headed rationing and easing tensions in crowded tents in the bitterest of winters, it was the women to whom the tribes looked. Some were even trained as ¡®Windspeakers¡¯ to guide their tribes through the frozen storms and to keep their laws, oral histories, and ancient traditions. So in tune were they to frozen wastes that a rare few were even able to call upon the raw elemental power of the ice and storm to protect the interests of their tribe. Thus the culture of the north was, for the most part, a matriarchal society. Their whole culture was based around two eternal constants - the freezing cold and the massive Cronir. These heavy, six-horned, muscular, deer-like animals were, according to Kidu, almost forty hands high and moved across the frozen north like the caribou of Earth would. The Cronir provided them with their meat, their clothing, their primitive weapons, and even their fermented blood provided them with a form of strong alcohol they called ¡®Kazass.¡¯ Permanent settlements were few and far between, all of them centered around rare hot springs that gushed from the ground and provided warmth for the tribes. These settlements were exclusively neutral grounds and were used as trading centers for the people of the north and were not owned by any single tribe. The people of the north were cousins to another group called the Nords. While Kidu and his tribes followed the migratory herds of Cronir across the tundra and forests of the North, the Nords followed the currents of the seas and were eminent sailors. The would-be bully, Harun, Gunne¡¯s protector, was one fine example of a bellicose Nord. I still occasionally savored the taste of his death and the cathartic power it brought me. Both peoples were also skilled raiders and would send parties to what they called the ¡®Hot Lands¡¯ or ¡®Warm Lands¡¯ to bring wealth and honor to their tribes. On occasion, they would venture down as mercenaries or swords for hire, their skills forged in the frozen north and then forged anew in the heat of battle of the internecine wars of the south. Not all would make it back, either fallen in battle or seduced by the easy life of the southern lands. With the hourglass finally emptying and the evening now upon us, I judged it to be a good time to head downstairs for the evening meal. I thanked him for telling me about his people and apologized for not being able to say much about my own. I promised him and myself that one day I would tell him everything, but for the sake of simplicity, that day was not today. Hauntingly beautiful music echoed up to my ears as I opened the thick door to our room. I followed the trail of musical notes down the stairs to the common room and was greeted by a strange and mysterious sight. An armored man, of average height and build, clad in chainmail and boiled leather scale armor, sat cross-legged in the corner. His raven dark hair splayed across his shoulders like a dark waterfall and his brown eyes glowed warmly, reflecting the fire¡¯s light. He sang in a resonant tenor, filling the room with the enchanting beauty of his melody, as his fingers danced across the strings of his delicate, lute-like instrument. I did not understand a single word of his song but understood fully the beauty of his message. The song was about life, death, loss, and the siren¡¯s call of finality. The room fell into a respectful silence as the final notes of his song died in the air. Moments later, the solemn atmosphere was burst apart by thunderous applause. Book 1: Symphony [Part 3] ¡°First time I have seen a true Bard,¡± a familiar voice whispered in my ear, causing me to jump, almost embarrassingly, in my heavy armor. ¡°Elwin!¡± I said, thoroughly surprised at what I saw before me. Elwin had bought what looked like a set of dark-colored armor made from boiled leather scales. The whole ensemble came with a cloth-padded hooded jacket. Around his waist was a new belt with an array of deadly-looking knives in small sheaths. Now, after his shopping spree, the man really did look like a Rogue. ¡°Thought I¡¯d get back to join you all for the evening meal,¡± he replied, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. ¡°Was pleasantly surprised to listen to music from a Bard. Seems that there is light at the end of the tunnel.¡± ¡°Yes, the music was rather lovely. I can see that you decided to enrich some of the local merchants,¡± I said as something whimsical took me. ¡°Hah!¡± he said, tapping the side of his nose knowingly. Curiosity possessed me and I walked up to the bard as he was drinking ale from a large mug in great lugs. My sallet held under the crook of my arm, I greeted him. ¡°Hello there and good evening, good sir. My name is Gilgamesh of Uruk,¡± I said formally, feeling that a little ceremony was required, before continuing, ¡°I have a favor and request to ask of you.¡± He arched a single eyebrow before looking at me directly as he put his wooden mug of ale down. ¡°The name is Darren Kragain of Haylesland, a pleasure to meet you. Your manners serve you well, so please do go on,¡± he replied in a cultured tenor voice that was as smooth as spun silk. ¡°Your song was most beautiful, the best I have ever heard in these lands, and has given me a yearning for the sounds of my own home. I would like you to play a song from my homeland, if it is not too much trouble?¡± I asked, a little awe in my voice, as I placed half a silver beside his instrument. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Being this close to it, I could see that it was almost a magical thing. Intricate whorls and patterns flowed across the body of the lute-like instrument and entwined plant and animal designs gathered around the rose and ran up to the neck. ¡°Tell me the name of the song,¡± he asked, looking a little bored. I was sure that the bard would often get requests like this. ¡°You will have never heard of this song...¡± I continued, and the bard perked up a little, his interest now piqued. ¡°¡­it is a song from a faraway land, and it goes a little like this...¡± Humming as best I could the parts of the song from the intro to the outro, I was lost for a moment in the memories of better times. Having no ear for music myself, I wondered if I was properly able to convey the song. Even with my lack of musical talent, the Bard looked absolutely enraptured by the catchy melody. ¡°Yes, yes¡­ I believe it would be easy to do. This is a whole new style of music!¡± he said eyes alight as he re-tuned his instrument before sitting down cross-legged once more. His fingers played across the strings as a melody, both different yet hauntingly familiar, echoed around the common room and people grew silent once more to listen. The Bard had added his own flourishes to the tune and it was not an exact copy. For one, the lyrics of the song were now markedly better in comparison to the trite childish nonsense of the original and the notes flowed together like an ocean wave. However, the soul of the music was there and it brought back memories of a world now lost to me. A wave of homesickness flew through me and I felt that it was almost worth the half silver I paid to inflict this world with pop music. Once the music ended to another thunderous applause, I thanked the Bard once more for his gift and ordered him another drink. I was surprised when he, in turn, thanked me and placed my coins back in my hand saying that it was, in fact, I that had given him a great gift. According to his tale, he was on a journey to find new inspiration that he might complete his quest to become a master Bard and, thanks to me, he had found it. My good use of manners rewarded me with a notification.
You have gained 1 Charisma.
Book 1: Symphony [Part 4] Extricating myself from the Bard¡¯s pleasant company, I rejoined my companions for the evening meal and placed my heavy helm on the table. Taper served us a delicious-looking stew in wooden bowls. The stew was spicy and was filled with a wide array of tender meat and fresh boiled vegetables with a peppery aftertaste. It was very filling, but we all still ordered seconds as it was a true gastronomic delight. Feeling rather pleased with myself, I decided to act on a whim and do something spontaneous. Cillis'' words echoed in my mind, her voice haunting my thoughts. The time I had spent with her had been a rare comfort in my life of relentless struggles. Driven by a burst of youthful recklessness, I resolved to do something wild, consequences be damned. I turned to my companion, Elwin, and mentioned that I needed some fresh air. He looked at me with surprise, but his cheerful mood prevented him from probing further. It also helped that he was drinking like a fish. Leaving the inn and filled with the heady optimism of youth, I made my way to the Soot-Stained Pig. Despite the late hour, the rhythmic sounds of labor at the forge reached my ears. I entered, and seeing that the smith was busy, I waited patiently near the entrance like a petitioner. Once she was done with her work, she finally noticed me. ¡°What brings you here at such a late hour?¡± she asked with a quizzical smile. ¡°I¡­ I¡­ was wondering if we could see more of each other,¡± was my weak and banal response. I cringed inwardly. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. She crossed her arms, sighing as she did so. ¡°You speak as if you want to court me? Me, a happily married woman?¡± she laughed, inadvertently smudging her face with soot as she covered her mouth. To my ears, her laughter seemed joyous yet tinged with condescension. ¡°...but I thought¡­ you and I. I thought we had something, or could have something together,¡± I continued lamely, cursing myself even as I did so. ¡°You¡¯re serious aren¡¯t you?¡± she said, her eyes widening in astonishment. ¡°Now there, young Gilgamesh,¡± she stated in a patronizing tone. ¡°All we did was have a little fun. I¡¯m sure you¡­ we¡­ both enjoyed whatever it is that you think happened. But that was all it was¡­ just a little thing. And that will all it will be. Now¡­ I have things to do, if you could please leave. I would be most grateful,¡± she stated sweetly, hanging up her leather apron up on a peg. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± came the distant voice of her shrewish husband. ¡°No one important, just sorting out a bit of business,¡± she answered. ¡°Gilgamesh, you''re a young man, and it''s flattering that you think so highly of me, but there can be nothing between us," she concluded firmly, leaving no room for argument. Like a scolded child, I excused myself and quietly closed the door behind me. Dejected, I made my way back to the Twisted Boar, the walk back feeling like a hundred leagues. Mechanically, I ascending the stairs to our room, my spirit as heavy as my footsteps. There I found my companions beginning to settle in for the night. Voice hollow with defeat, I volunteered to take watch, taking my customary position by the shutters to stare out into the night streets. Practicing my magic, I cast Drain a few times during the long hours of my watch, when my Mana allowed for it, at some passersby who were making their way back home. A perverted joy came to me as I released some of my frustration on random strangers. I realized that rejection was a bitter thing, made ever more so by a small dose hope. The voices of my magic. I hardly noticed the dark voices anymore, their promises and threats falling on deaf ears, but I did notice that, with my spell having increased in power, there were now more threads of darkness made with each cast. Progress in the dark arts, I grinned ruefully, who would have thought? My body was thrumming and jittery with stolen life energies before I was snapped from the training by a heavy hand on my shoulder. Kidu relieved me from my watch, and I, too lazy to care, simply fell into the large bed. Despite feeling mysteriously tired, I also felt strangely stimulated. With my Rest skill, however, I was able to quickly fall comfortably asleep to the embrace of familiar nightmares that stalked me in the night. Book 1: The Man Behind the Name [Part 1] Seas rose, and continents cracked under the energies that ravaged the world. The sky itself burned in places that scoured the very ground beneath of all life. Great volcanos spewed mountains of dark ash into the air, covering the world in primordial darkness. In the deep places of the ocean, there was to be no refuge. The water boiled, killing all but the hardiest of creatures and the people of the Mer suffered greatly. Thus was how the first cataclysm started, and the game board set anew for the unending game of the thirsting gods. - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC. Dawn had yet to cast her rosy fingers across the sky before I was woken, without ceremony. The Rogue, his breath still scented with strong drink, shook me awake from my dreams where something unwholesome stalked me through the corridors of my own mind. Shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, I made my way to do my morning toilet before washing my hands again and having a quick drink from a flask. ¡°Good morning to you, muse of music! Since I didn¡¯t want to be eating jerky all the time on the road, I bought us a few other trail snacks. Think of it as a thank you present!¡± chirped Elwin, his morning energy a little grating on my nerves. He ran a hand through what remained of his hair and handed over a simple leather satchel filled with traveling provisions. ¡°And to you too,¡± I unenthusiastically replied. After the events of the previous night, I was still feeling a little raw. ¡°We¡¯ll make our way to the Adventurer¡¯s guild and see what¡¯s about, I suppose. We will have to find some sort of work to pay for a caravan or transport out of this town to head for more civilized climes,¡± I said, still struggling to find some motivation. As my companions gathered the rest of our provisions and supplies, I mentally looked over my character sheet. Sleeping in my armor during the night had given me a level in the Heavy Armor skill. The effect of the improved skill was already apparent, as my equipment felt a little less cumbersome as we went down the stairs. The innkeeper of the establishment was waging war with the remnants of last night¡¯s revels. He was mopping spilled ale and vomit and hitting his still-sleeping customers to wakefulness with the business end of his mop. The Bard from last night was nowhere in sight, as was to be expected from a man of his caliber. The regular customers were just making their way out when we noticed that there seemed to be a smell of something cooking wafting up through the air. ¡°Good morning, Taper,¡± I said, trying to muster up some goodwill and energy. ¡°I see that business was good last night.¡± ¡°Business is always good when there¡¯s a Bard about. This sorry lot is always looking for an excuse to celebrate and drink,¡± he replied to my greeting as he put his mop away. ¡°I¡¯ll be serving breakfast soon, the usual three coppers, if it pleases you.¡± I sat down with my companions at the counter, placing nine dull copper coins on its impeccably clean surface. I asked the innkeeper for directions to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, even though I was pretty sure the building I had passed on my way to my fight with Jongshoi was the same one. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. The innkeeper gave me some rough directions from the inn, which confirmed my suspicions. In the old world, I was never much gifted in the art of map reading, let alone directions, but thanks to my increased Intelligence I had a much clearer picture in my mind of where the Guild should be. Soon enough, Taper served us some form of gruel with a dollop of honey in the center. It was a simple and filling fare and Kidu even asked for seconds, counting out three coppers from his purse. We waited for Kidu, who finished his meal with a resounding burp that amused Elwin to no end and then we exited the inn. The morning light had fully taken the sky now, and with the risen sun, came the sounds of a city waking up. There had been a light rain during the night and the streets were muddy as we started off in the direction of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. The mud did little to hamper the number of people who were making their way about their daily business. We plowed on through to the market square as I retraced my steps from the jail to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Turning a few corners and passing many yurt-like buildings, we finally arrived at our planned destination. I accidentally stepped into a puddle and sunk down to my ankles, much to the amusement of my companions. The building was as I remembered it and where Taper had described. The guild hall was carved from large blocks of simple white stone. Over its large heavy wooden iron-banded entrance, hung a sign bearing the symbol of a crossed sword over a wooden burning torch. We entered the building to find the common room surprisingly well-lit with a large fireplace bathing the room with its warmth. The floor was made of worn wood and there were several brushes by the door, which I saw people using to wipe the road from their boots. The people inside seemed to come from all sorts of backgrounds and walks of life. Some were armored to various degrees - from full-plate to ratty-looking worn leathers, and all of them were armed with an eclectic mix of ranged and melee weapons of varying quality and origins. What drew my eye were the few that were dressed in mystical garments of various hues and wielded magical-looking staves and wands. A man, in a red robe and wide-brimmed ¡®wizard¡¯s hat¡¯, patterned with yellow stars, gripped a staff tipped with a scarlet crystalline point and was smoking from a delicate wooden pipe. The smoke from which was so dense that it looked like an extension of his bushy gray beard that reached to his chest. Serving girls wended their way through large wooden tables, delivering stacked trays full of delicious-looking food and ale. It seemed that the Adventurer¡¯s Guild also doubled as a tavern in this city. A smart move, I thought to myself. Several groups of people were sitting at tables, discussing amongst themselves, and exchanging information. Not everyone was in a group, and not everyone was human. Alone at a table, a dark-skinned humanoid with the characteristically pointed ears of the elves and platinum-silver hair sat, nursing a drink. My hackles rose at seeing the elf and I had to pointedly refrain from reaching for the flail at my side. I did not have a good first impression of elves. At the other side of the large hall was a wooden counter where several people were queuing up. Behind the counter, smartly dressed employees in elegantly cut clothes were busy with clerical work as they tallied, counted, and calculated. Next to the counter was a large board with various pieces of paper pinned onto its surface. ¡°Nice setup they got here,¡± Elwin chimed in as he whistled in awe. ¡°It certainly looks like an Adventurer¡¯s Guild, not that I have seen one before mind you,¡± I commented, making sure to correct myself. Kidu, taciturn as always, just grunted knowingly. Book 1: The Man Behind the Name [Part 2] Not knowing what to do, I decided that it would be best to ask. Still unsure of the social niceties required and not wanting to cause a stir with a potential faux pas, I sent Elwin to find some information. Meanwhile, Kidu and I finished cleaning our shoes and waited at an empty table. In due course, one of the serving girls came to us. The girl was perhaps in her twenties, young and fair-skinned with a sprinkling of light freckles around her nose. She had flame-red hair tied in a bun but had the Asiatic eyes and a small nose, so common to the locals here. Our server was pretty in a homely sort of way, offering us a pleasant smile while she asked for our order. ¡°Hello there! Nice to see some new faces,¡± she began cheerfully in a high singsong voice as she eyed the massive Kidu up and down, stifling a giggle. ¡°What can I get for you?¡± ¡°Do you have anything that is non-alcoholic, juice or milk perhaps? And a light snack, as we have just eaten?¡± I asked, not wanting to start drinking so early in the day. Her bright smile grew a little in amusement. ¡°We got a little Lanelo juice and some Rockcrab legs,¡± she said as if rummaging through the back of her mind. ¡°That would be lovely,¡± I said gratefully. Wistfully, I couldn''t help but recall my struggles with complicated menus in the past. ¡°That will be twelve coppers then, for three of you, I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ll be wanting to order for the man that came with you too?¡± As she smiled, I realized she was the type that grew prettier as they smiled. Now that Elwin was elsewhere, scouring for information, I was able to summon up a little courage. ¡°What¡¯s your name, if I may be so bold?¡± I blurted out, a little too formally, as I placed twelve copper coins on the table. Red stained my cheeks as I removed my helm and placed it on the table, and I grew conscious of my appearance. ¡°Aren¡¯t you a dear! My name¡¯s Halena Aster. Nice to meet you, adventurers.¡± She smiled, eyes lighting as she played with a loose strand of hair. ¡°Kidu Kreshin,¡± the big man rumbled as he introduced himself. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. For the first time, Kidu had introduced himself with a second name. I had known about this additional part of his name for a long time now, having cast Identify on the wildman during our days of enslavement. Perhaps it held some significance? I would have to ask him about it later. ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you both the strapping sort! I¡¯ll be right back with your order,¡± she finished, giving us a wink and dexterously scooping up the coins in one smooth motion before turning around and walking toward the kitchens. I noticed that she never asked for my name and that Kidu was looking at her retreating form for a few long moments before I coughed. ¡°Kreshin?¡± I asked, curiosity apparent in my tone. ¡°On the ice, we receive the name of the first kill as our second name, that we may never forget the struggle and the test. The Kreshin brought me great honor among my tribe,¡± he said solemnly, successfully tearing his eyes away from our server. ¡°So, no family name?¡± ¡°All in the tribe are one, my family is the Three Bears,¡± he said stiffly, unused to this line of questioning. He probably thought that this must be common knowledge and was currently distracted by our waitress. I was soon saved by Elwin after he navigated through the groups of people back toward our table, a roguish grin plastered to his face. He plopped himself down and looked us both in the eye before he began. ¡°So right, the thing is, first of all, before we start doing jobs for the Adventurer¡¯s Guild is that we got to register and pay the membership fee,¡± he stated, pointing a thumb at the wooden counter where the people were lined up. ¡°That¡¯s three silver each, but from what I heard only one of us needs to be a member to take on jobs so that saves us six silver. Though if we¡¯ll be doing work a little bit on the regular side, they advised that we all register.¡± He shrugged noncommittally. ¡°Course, the pays all the same split three ways but some jobs require a minimum number of members. Once we register we¡¯ll have to meet the Guildmaster and be given a badge designating our rank, it¡¯s the same system like the Guilds where I come from. We can take any jobs from the board as long as they are within one rank of our badges, the guild gives out a death payment only on jobs of the same rank. I don¡¯t plan on dying anytime soon, so this doesn¡¯t really matter I guess¡­¡± He finished just as Halena returned with our food and drinks. ¡°What rose blooms in this here sad garden?¡± Elwin asked lasciviously, looking the girl up and down as he made to touch her shapely rear. Halena, with a stony, fixed smile on her face and a veteran of a hundred such advances, adroitly dodged his questing hands while placing our items on the table. ¡°Anything else?¡± she asked, a little annoyance clouding her voice. ¡°No, thank you,¡± I quickly added. She had already begun to turn away to take another adventurer¡¯s order before I had even finished. ¡°I can tell that one likes me!¡± Elwin guffawed, which drew a simple grunt from Kidu. Book 1: The Man Behind the Name [Part 3] We drank our purple Lanelo juice, which was sweet and tart, and ate our deliciously spiced salty Rockcrabs, which made us order even more juice. Elwin, uncharacteristically, didn¡¯t even complain that the drinks weren¡¯t alcoholic. Once we had finished our light meal and drinks we made our way to join the queue at the counter. In front of us was a line of about ten people. As we waited, the dark-skinned elf, who was at the front of the queue, briskly handed over a bundle of herbs and plants to a busy-looking clerk who then stamped a few official-looking papers. Moments later, and with great clerical efficiency, a few silver and bronze coins were presented on a tray which the elf quickly picked up with dexterous fingers, placing them quickly into a small purse. Even hooded and cloaked I could see now more clearly that the lines of the elf¡¯s body under the tough-scaled leather armor were of a more feminine persuasion. She walked with an unconscious, yet confident, sway in her hips that challenged every man in the room as she exuded competence and deadliness in equal measure. The elf shot one last glance around the Guild and our eyes met for the merest fraction of a second as she exited the building through the thick iron-banded doors. With time to burn and curiosity to be sated, I asked the man in front of me about the sight I had just seen. He was a distinctly average specimen of Asiatic persuasion, of medium height and girth, with a round homely face. Brown hair fell from a wide-brimmed kettle helm, and he was clad in a mixture of old scaled leather, coarse homespun linen, and patchwork chainmail. At his waist, though, was a deadly-looking unadorned bearded axe of dark wood and darker black iron of exceptional quality. ¡°Oh, her. She caught your eye too? She¡¯s a famous one, that¡¯s Lanarisa. We all just call her Lana which she hates,¡± grinned the boyish man. ¡°Name¡¯s Gan Garamgai. You can call me Gan if you like, that''s what everyone else does anyways. Say, haven¡¯t seen you around before, what''s your name if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡± He stuck out his gauntleted hand in greeting. I regretted my decision to ask the overly familiar man almost immediately and I looked at his gauntleted hand for a moment as if it was a snake. Something about him simply grated upon me. My goals depended upon me not standing out and causing a scene, so I swallowed my regret and remembered my manners. I held a special place in my heart for all the Children of the Tides, and Gan Garamgai, with his stupid name, was no exception. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Gilgamesh of Uruk would have to play the friendly individual for a while, then perhaps sometime in the future, I could convert Gan into experience points. Somewhere in a hidden corner of my mind, a dark thing silently voiced its agreement as I reached to shake his armored hand and introduced myself. Something must have reminded the dolt of his own lack of manners, and he stopped himself before finally removing his own gauntlets. ¡°Name¡¯s Gil, pleasure to meet you Gan,¡± I said with a smile that probably didn¡¯t quite reach my eyes. ¡°Are you a regular member of this guild?¡± I asked casually as I clasped the now unarmored hand. ¡°Oh, that I am, just a bronze, though,¡± he said, pointing to a small bronze badge on his chest depicting a crossed sword over a burning wooden torch. ¡°Still, started way back when I was Copper. Dad couldn¡¯t work the farm, so I had to step up.¡± His chest puffed up a little in pride. I had to bite back a scathing reply suggesting he could have worked the farm instead but chose to be tactful and inquire, ¡°And how, exactly, does one gain in rank?¡± ¡°Well, continue to do jobs and help out the guild and the Guildmaster will promote you, when he, like, sees you do real well. Remember Lana? She¡¯s the only silver adventurer here, always takes on jobs by herself too, and almost always completes them. Doesn¡¯t do much on speaking though,¡± he continued inanely. The conversation continued to meander this way and that. Gan told us in annoyingly exquisite detail about the members of his extended family, going to great lengths to extoll the virtues of one of his younger sisters. According to his description, she was basically the goddess given flesh once more. I was able to glean another useful nugget of information out of the country bumpkin, it seemed that the Guildmaster, a man called Darcen Tsend, had a means of telling if someone spoke the truth. It was probably one of the reasons he had ascended to his lofty position. Elwin tried to insert himself into the conversation, asking if Gan¡¯s sister was in his words ¡°A looker,¡± which just caused Gan to clam up, thankfully, until it was finally his turn at the counter. Gan, finishing his business, offered to group up to do a few board jobs with us someday and then waved goodbye. Perhaps I would take him up on his offer, I mused. Book 1: Bureaucracy [Part 1] Bibsis, Rainspeakers, or Callers are only found in one sacred pond that grows into a great lake with the coming of the rains in the Grieving Lands. To gaze upon them is said to be akin to receiving a blessing from the Goddess herself. -The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. At long last, it was now our turn. Behind the counter stood a thin dark-haired bookish man clothed in an elegantly cut shirt with a silver bolo tie with a dark emerald at its center. Gray calculating eyes behind small horn-rimmed spectacles looked up from his papers and gazed over us. The clerk coughed, a white-gloved dainty hand rising to his mouth, before asking in a smooth baritone, ¡°How can the Adventurer¡¯s Guild be of service to you, gentlemen?¡± ¡°We wish to register as new members of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild,¡± I replied simply, mentally slapping myself for forgetting the earlier idea to just register as one member. ¡°Names please?¡± he asked in a no-nonsense voice, all professional now as he filed through a different set of papers for registration. ¡°Gilgamesh of Uruk, Elwin Tucker, and Kidu Kreshin,¡± I said slowly, careful to enunciate the names correctly as my companions simply nodded behind me. ¡°I see. Gilgamesh and company, that will be nine silvers in total for all of you. You are lucky. The Guildmaster has nothing scheduled today and will be able to see you soon for the induction process. My name is Taciano, and, since you will be becoming Adventurers, I believe we will be seeing each other more often.¡± He cracked a smile incongruous with his earlier attitude. ¡°Please pay the requisite fee and wait a while to the side while I inform the Guildmaster,¡± he gestured to the side of the counter. My party and I paid the requisite three silver coins each, and we followed Taciano¡¯s instructions to the letter, waiting quietly to the side. With nervous energy that belied his usual confidence, Elwin spent the time throwing and catching a sharp knife that rose and fell, glinting with a deadly metallic light. It was after a few long minutes when Taciano called us over in a quiet formal voice. ¡°Guildmaster Darcen Tsend will see you, please follow me.¡± I nodded in assent and he guided us up a sturdy flight of stairs before knocking respectfully on a wooden door. After waiting for a few moments, he opened the door and ushered us in. We were greeted by a formidable sight. A lean silver-haired rugged man clad in the local style, a deel fashioned in colors of golds and reds, positively filled the room with his presence. On anyone else, it would have looked like a colorful peacock¡¯s display, but it hugged his formidable frame and seemed like another form of armor. He stood behind a finely carved wooden desk with his hands behind his back. Atop his desk was a purplish crystal ball, mystical mist moving eerily in its depths. The desk itself was delicately patterned with mystical creatures, and various trophies from past adventures decorated the walls. A massive one-eyed monster¡¯s head directly behind Darcen drew the eye, its large fang-filled mouth frozen in a roar. Tentacles circled around its single eye like a medusan mane. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. The lines of his face were hard and scars ran down one sun-browned cheek, crossing lines carved by age and old victories. The Guildmaster exuded a restrained sense of danger and authority, like the head of the pack that had seen many hard winters but was content for now. His other quality was that he was also wolfishly handsome, and he greeted us all with a wide canine smile. ¡°Good afternoon, prospective Adventurers. I welcome you all formally to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. My name is Darcen Tsend, and I am the Guildmaster of the Ansan Branch,¡± he paused for a moment and I could feel a sort of energy work its way through me, as if searching for something. ¡°Ah, you noticed the Watcher. One of my earlier victories. Terrible things. They say they are creatures of the void. My party and I were contracted to clear out a nest of them. I lost many friends to those creatures,¡± he said somberly. Switching gears, almost jarringly, he continued. ¡°You all look like capable sorts so I will induct you immediately. Speak to the fellow Taciano for an explanation of the rules. But the biggest rule of all, this isn¡¯t really part of the rules of the Guild, but still¡­ do not think to deceive me, for I can smell a lie,¡± he stated, his wolfish appearance giving credence to his claim, and it seemed for a moment that small room filled with his presence. Elwin smiled nervously and almost visibly gulped as he said with a courage I did not possess at the time, ¡°The sky was purple this morning.¡± Darcen just guffawed at the Rogue¡¯s temerity. ¡°I like your style,¡± he exclaimed as he slapped him on the shoulder which almost brought Elwin down to his knees. The bigger man chuckled throatily all the while. ¡°Now place your hands on the Bonding Crystal and I¡¯ll hand over your first badges,¡± he said as he gestured to the purple crystal ball on his beautifully crafted desk. ¡°What does that¡­ thing do?¡± I asked quickly, apprehensive at the thought of touching some clearly magical. ¡°It merely registers you as a member of the Guild. Trust me, it is for your own protection. Wouldn¡¯t want you being carted off to somewhere like the flesh pits or the mines, right? The crystal is also imbued with minor magics to inform the Guild of an adventurer¡¯s death, and in such a case we will pay the death price to their next of kin,¡± the Guildmaster said in a serious tone. I couldn¡¯t help but feel that he had given this speech many times before. Against my better judgment, I felt a need to win this man¡¯s approval and moved to be the first to touch the stone. Taking off my gloves, I touched the purplish ball with the bare skin of my fingers and felt almost a jolt, like static electricity. I looked to the Guildmaster to see if this was normal, but he simply nodded. A few seconds later, the wolfish man tapped a copper badge, similar to the one Gan possessed, to the crystal¡¯s now opaque milky surface. Darcen gestured that it was alright to let go, so I removed my hand and golden script etched itself onto the copper badge as if an invisible pen was writing on it. Soon enough, I could read my name clearly in the Trade language and was taken aback by the casual display of magic as the ball grew clear once more. ¡°First encounter with magic?¡± asked Darcen, moving to hand over my newly minted Adventurer''s Guild badge. I smiled, feigning awe and rather avoiding directly answering his question. Being wary of his ability to sense the truth from a lie, I was unwilling to show my hand just yet. ¡°Now, there is the quick thing about the Adventurer¡¯s Guild oath, and it is very simple. You just need to swear that you will do your very best to always uphold the reputation of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Do you so swear, Gilgamesh of Uruk?¡± asked Darcen as he looked me squarely in the eyes, just a few moments shy of handing it over to me. ¡°I swear to uphold the reputation of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild to the best of my current abilities,¡± I said as firmly as possible, trying not to let reluctance enter my voice. Book 1: Bureaucracy [Part 2] I must have really meant it, or the Guildmaster¡¯s truth-sensing ability was imperfect, because he simply looked me up and down and handed the badge to me with a comradely smile. Still, he decided to slap my shoulder, as he did with Elwin, in an unconscious show of dominance. I was ready and expecting it, however, and with a thin and annoyed smile, I absorbed the shock of the blow through my knees and a shifting of my own weight. As a student in my old world, I had dealt with his type many times before. Kidu, following my example, was next to step up to the desk. Taking off his gauntlet, he grasped the crystal with his giant hand almost as if to crush it, and drew a chuckle from the Guildmaster. As he did with me, he tapped a copper badge to the crystal before asking Kidu to repeat the oath about not tarnishing the reputation of the Guild. Kidu¡¯s name magically appeared on his badge in the same manner as it had on mine. Darcen looked at Kidu¡¯s badge and read out aloud Kidu¡¯s name. ¡°Kidu Kreshin. Kreshin, now that is an impressively fierce creature for one¡¯s first kill. Gilgamesh here must be something special to be in the company of a Hunter so gifted,¡± the Guildmaster said thoughtfully, a new respect in his eyes. I barely registered the Guildmaster¡¯s comment, my own mind already analyzing the oath that I had taken. Was it a simple honor system or was it magically enforced? At first, the oath seemed pretty vague, but after analyzing it a bit further, I realized it actually encompassed a rather wide range of things from my interactions with other NPCs¡­ people. I had to remind myself that I was probably dealing with real people, to the manner in which I completed requests. On the other hand, as long as I was never found out, I could do, for the most part, whatever I wanted. This was probably why the Guildmaster had some sort of truth-sensing ability. My enhanced Intelligence helped me to realize that it could be a loophole that could be potentially exploited in the future. It was Elwin Tucker the Rogue¡¯s turn next. If anyone had secrets to hide, next to me, it would be my companion Elwin. With great hesitancy, he made to touch the crystal, stopping just a hairsbreadth before touching it. ¡°This doesn¡¯t hurt, right? Had enough pain to last three lifetimes. Not enough drink in all the Grieving Lands to numb what I¡¯ve been through,¡± he mumbled with a slight quiver. The Guildmaster simply smiled and grabbed his hand and forced it to the crystal with such speed I was barely able to track it with my eyes. Elwin¡¯s mouth opened in stunned silence, forming a big ¡®O¡¯ in surprise. Again, Darcen made Elwin repeat the Guild¡¯s oath before finally handing over his copper badge. ¡°I welcome you all to the brotherhood that is the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. May you always find that which you seek,¡± Darcen intoned formally in a voice that weighed heavy with the authority of the Guild. Not knowing how to respond, we all just quickly looked at each other and nodded. ¡°Alright then, that¡¯s out of the way! You best make your way back down to Taciano, good lad but a little weedy. Also, could do with a bit of toughening up. Spends far too much time indoors. Nonetheless, he¡¯s a reliable sort and you could have done a lot worse. One of the lads from the last batch we hired was a right sod. Now be off with you!¡± he commanded, the smile on his face making a lie of his stern tone. Hurriedly, like schoolboys being dismissed, we exited Darcen¡¯s office. The whole encounter gnawed a little at me, but I was grateful for the protection that the Guild offered. My companions and I all took a deep breath before going down the stairs to find Taciano, who had, as of now, been assigned to us. The clerk had been dutifully waiting for us, holding a thin sheet of rectangular wood to serve as a board for him to write on. On the bottom of the board was a small pot of ink in which he dipped his fine feathered quill. ¡°Interesting,¡± I said, pointing at his board. ¡°But what would truly add to its usefulness would be, perhaps, a clip at the top to stop the parchment from moving.¡± His brow furrowed in thought as he considered my suggestion before his eyes lit up. ¡°Yes! What a brilliant idea! How could I have not thought about it before? Why, thank you, Gilgamesh¡­ now to ask the smith if he could fashion a spring of some sort¡­¡± he said as he shook my hand vigorously, his actual duties temporarily forgotten as he pondered on my idea. It seemed that my words must have been of some significance, as I received a notification.
You have gained 1 Intelligence.
Checking over my character sheet while the clerk was still distracted, trying to keep at least half a mind in the present, I noticed that my maximum Mana had risen to a respectable fifteen points. I didn¡¯t have enough time to look over the full extent of my current status but I was pleased to learn that, thanks to my general activities, I had gained a lot of experience points and was very close to level eleven. I hadn¡¯t quite locked down how the system worked, but outside gaining levels, gaining attribute points was definitely linked to activities, skill use, and meaningful practice.
STATUS
Calling: Gilgamesh Level 10 Paladin of Avaria / Reaver Strength: 24 Dexterity: 19 Constitution: 34 Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Intelligence: 21 Wisdom: 18 Charisma: 12 Luck: 17
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.2) Power Strike (lvl.2) 10 Endure (lvl.3) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.3) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.3) Polearms (lvl.2) Dual Wield (lvl.2) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) Mining (lvl.2) Unarmed Combat (lvl.3) Hammers (lvl.2) Flails (lvl.2) Maces (lvl.1) Shields (lvl.1) Medium Armor (lvl.1) Heavy Armor (lvl.2) Axes (lvl.1) Daggers (lvl.2) Throwing Weapons (lvl.2)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) 5 Rust (lvl.3) 2 Identify (lvl.2) 1 Silent Casting (lvl.1) Mana Regeneration (lvl.2) Purify (lvl.2) 3 Greater Heal (lvl.1) 10 Holy Aura (lvl.1) 2 Decay (lvl.1) 1 Drain (lvl.2) 2 Entropic Aura (lvl.2) 2
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% to all starting attributes. Mark of the Paladin: 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical. Touch of the Void: 10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects.
Experience to next level 2572/2583
My mind was quickly drawn back to the present as Taciano finally remembered his primary duties. ¡°... Can find jobs and on the board over there,¡± he said, pointing to the large board pinned with many job requests. ¡°You can take jobs at your rank and one rank above and all ranks below. However, should you perish whilst attempting to do a job or request one rank higher than your own then the death payment will not be given to your next of kin or chosen recipient,¡± Taciano continued to instruct in a slightly clipped voice. I selected my mother and father as my next of kin, sure in the knowledge that the potential windfall of my death would never reach them anyways, and I would, of course, do my utmost to keep myself alive. Elwin wrote another Tucker¡¯s name down and gave the city name of Brownwood. Kidu surprisingly wrote the Three Bears Clan and ¡®The North¡¯ for the address. I was genuinely surprised, as I had thought the large man to be illiterate. It seemed that I had kept a few of the prejudices of my old world with me. Book 1: Bureaucracy [Part 3] With this part out of the way, Taciano went on with his explanation, ¡°If certain proof needs to be provided for the completion of a job you will need to hand them in at the counter, to me or another Adventurer¡¯s Clerk that is on duty. Please wait for us to sign, stamp, and verify that you have completed the request and you will be paid, minus any city taxes and ordinances.¡± ¡°One of the advantages of membership is that we enjoy friendly relations with many of the traders and merchants of the city who will be more than willing to offer you a discount. This will, however, be in relation to your current rank and, of course, having a good standing with the Guild. As your group does not have a healer I would suggest that you also make it a point to buy healing supplies from a skilled Alchemist. Here, let me write down directions for a few reliable sorts.¡± The clerk wrote down the directions, which he handed over to us on a scrap piece of parchment. ¡°I am also here to advise you on future ventures and so forth, so if you have any further questions please do not hesitate to ask. On that note, I would advise that you first take a copper class job that you feel a three-man group like yourself can easily accomplish. Any questions?¡± the clerk finally finished. We all uniformly shook our heads and Taciano gave us one final formal smile before he turned back to the counter to continue his normal duties. My own group, as advised, walked up to the jobs board and one particular small notice in the center drew my attention. I could not read it clearly but the part that I could was definitely of interest. My knowledge of the Trade script was still patchy, so I cast Identify on the words. ¡®(Bronze) Information on what is targeting the charcoal burners of Ansan. Reward one gold coin,¡¯ read the job¡¯s notice. Suddenly without warning the golden script of a new quest flashed before my eyes.
Warn the Adventurer¡¯s Guild of the Echo-Stalker¡¯s Nest? Yes/No
Finally, I thought, a quest that aligned with my own goals. I quickly accepted. This was, basically, the world being slightly helpful for a change. I took the notice from the board and went back to the counter. A few moments later, a slightly annoyed-looking Taciano came back and asked tersely, ¡°Yes, did you forget anything?¡± ¡°Not exactly, but I believe we have completed our first job for the Guild,¡± I said as seriously as possible, handing over the slip of paper with the request. He looked at me as if I had suddenly grown new arms before actually reading the slip that I passed over, his eyes now narrowing before asking, ¡°So you have information in regards to the recent attacks?¡± Gambling with the die of fate, I told Taciano about the Echo-Stalkers that we had seen in the Sainba, leaving out the obvious parts that would incriminate us. Our reason for being there was a little weak, something about Kidu wishing to test himself, but the clerk brushed this off as he was more interested in the possible location of the Echo-Stalker¡¯s nest. He asked if we had any physical proof and we referred him to the Soot-Stained Pig and the Echo-Stalker parts we had sold to Cillis and her husband. Kidu also gave him a rough account of where to find the nest, a task impossible even for me with my enhanced intellect, which Taciano dutifully wrote down. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Taciano also informed us that we would have to leave a deposit of a silver piece while members of the guild checked the veracity of our story, due to both our junior rank and the fact we were brand new members. I simply shrugged and handed him over a silver coin from my own purse. Such were the responsibilities of a leader. ¡°Are we allowed to take another job while we wait?¡± Elwin asked greedily, posing the question we were all thinking. ¡°It is usually frowned upon to do two jobs at once, but I am sure you don¡¯t want to wait and in the light of the circumstances, I don¡¯t see why not. Please go ahead and choose a different job, I am sure you are ready to get stuck in! Remember to please keep it to the copper requests though, I¡¯d rather not attend another funeral this week,¡± said the clerk in a now flat voice. We nodded our assent as we went to check up on the board again for different jobs. The whole thing reminded me of the minutiae of dealing with forms and papers in my old world. Pretending to be completely literate, to save face, I tried to make out the words, but I could only recognize one letter in four making me, effectively, illiterate. Elwin would, however, save the day once more. ¡°How about this one? Says collect some Moon Moss from the Sainba forest. No monster slaying for a start, and I can find us some Moon Moss no problem, I¡¯m sure. A two-day job at the most and it pays three silver!¡± said the Rogue enthusiastically. With no other options, I had no choice but to pretend to think it over before agreeing with the Rogue, ¡°It definitely fits our initial objectives. We should set out immediately,¡± I said, wanting to retake the initiative as the leader of our little group. Something, however, was niggling at the back of my thoughts and I couldn¡¯t yet place it. ¡°There are three of us, why not three jobs?¡± rumbled Kidu, surprisingly insightfully, and my mind snapped back to the task at hand. ¡°That¡¯s an excellent point,¡± I commented, nervousness stealing into my voice as I desperately looked at the board searching for another notice that I could understand. Leafy fronds grew from a thick bulbous base on the picture of the plant and I guessed it must have been a notice for a gathering job. With nothing for it, I decided to frantically cast Identify on a notice that had a drawing of a plant on it, the searching tendrils of magical energies taking longer than usual to complete their quest. The notice read ¡®(Copper) Gather three heads of River Root. Reward two silver.¡¯ I looked at my companions and noticed that they had all grown slightly reticent. ¡°Why all the long faces?¡± I asked, confused by their reaction. ¡°Well, it¡®s not so much the River Root that¡¯s the problem. Just that Lurkers can sometimes be found near River Root. Right fearsome beasts they are. Not always, mind you, just sometimes. But it¡¯s always the sometimes that gets you,¡± said Elwin, his usual smile growing a little strained. The wildman, on the other hand, seemed to take this as some sort of challenge and with one of his giant hands took down another notice with a picture of a large fearsome lizard on it. I gave the picture on the notice a look over and almost gulped. It was certainly a terrifying sight to behold, even on paper. The great lizard resembled a crocodile or alligator with six muscular stubby legs that each ended in four sharp-looking claws. Along its back, from the neck down to its tail were spiked ridges and bony armored plates. The artist had captured the beast¡¯s mouth open mid-roar, and serrated dagger-like teeth lined its huge gaping maw. I took a moment to look at the notice and pretended to read it in detail. While I did this, I silently cast Identify on it, growing frustrated at my slower casting speed. The notice simply read ¡®(Bronze) Three River Lurker hides. Reward six silver.¡¯ We would be well rewarded for the task. Hopefully, we could complete all three jobs at the same time. ¡°Two birds with one stone,¡± I said with a slight grimace, waiting for the quest messages that never came, then sighing in relief. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard that before, but it certainly sounds apt. I guess if you got a sling and swung really hard¡­¡± quipped Elwin, regaining a little of his usual verve. ¡°They will make for worthy prey,¡± said the Hunter stoically, nodding as he gripped his unstrung bow in his ham-sized hands. Book 1: A New Companion* ¡°She blesses the poor by letting them lose their favored beast, only to then aid them in finding it again.¡± - Attributed to Cardinal Mauros. All in agreement, we exited the building. Following Taciano¡¯s advice, we headed towards the directions we were given to a local alchemist that could provide us with some healing potions. I remembered the taste of the potion that I was force-fed by Degei, the slave overseer, a memory which almost caused me to dry-heave at the mere thought of drinking another. In good time, we made our way to the purple-colored yurt that I had seen before. Strangely-colored smoke was flowing up from a stone chimney at its crown. Girding my courage, I pushed back a heavy cloth to enter the colorful yurt, and my nostrils were hit by a foul smell that assaulted my senses. Almost gagging, I had a look around the dimly lit yurt. Patches of the morning sun streamed in weakly through openings in the side of the yurt. Across the beams of giant horn, several wooden poles lay stretched across the room. Dangling from which, like shriveled mystical grapes, were a plethora of drying ingredients ranging from herbs to unknown animal parts. At the far end of the yurt, an old hunched bald man was mixing glowing liquids with the aid of various alchemic apparatuses at a sturdy-looking white stone table. The man muttered to himself, the deep lines of his face creasing in frustration as he drained an alembic filled with a yellow pus-colored liquid into a glass vial filled with a viscous red substance. There was a flash of light and puff of smoke, followed by the alchemist¡¯s cry of success. ¡°Fantastic! A mid-grade healing potion made from only common ingredients. I daresay I have simply outdone myself!¡± said a cultured voice, raspy from the various fumes. ¡°Excuse me...¡± I began. The Alchemist jumped, almost dropping his newly made concoction in surprise, from his gloved hands. Peering at us from across the smoky room with squinted bespectacled eyes, he finally realized that he had customers. He stopped for a long moment, looking me up and down, and I felt a small chill and sensed an echo of a feather¡¯s touch upon my soul. ¡°Welcome, honored customer, to Hamsa¡¯s Wondrous Apothecary,¡± he managed to finish before he was wracked with a round of coughing, completely destroying the air of esoteric mystery that had previously surrounded him. ¡°The finest potions in Ansan at an affordable price,¡± he wheezed, waving a hand to disperse the foul-smelling smoke. Somewhere toward the back of the dark tent, I could have sworn, I saw something small scurrying away, but I dismissed it from my mind and focused on the Alchemist. The Alchemist¡¯s skin looked sickly pale in the poor light and his pate was completely bald like a freshly peeled egg. He didn¡¯t have a single strand of hair upon him, not even eyebrows or a hint of facial hair. Hamsa¡¯s smoke-gray eyes looked at us through the cracked lenses of gold-rimmed spectacles, which he wiped absentmindedly with a dirty cloth from his pocket. The hunched man was wearing a tough-looking leather butcher¡¯s apron, worn with age, and bearing chemical stains from a thousand experiments. He wore thick cloth vestments of coarse linen to protect his exposed skin, and thick leather gloves protected his skilled hands. Nodding to a queasy-looking Elwin, I urged him to take the initiative and begin negotiations. The Rogue understood my intent and approached the alchemist in a relaxed fashion, hands behind his back. ¡°Good day to you, master alchemist,¡± he said with a smile plastered to his face. ¡°My name is Elwin Tucker, and my companions and I are planning a little trip into the Sainba forest to gather a few herbs and materials. We were wondering if we might peruse your stock of Health potions before we begin our new venture,¡± continued Elwin. The shop owner visibly preened at this and stood a little straighter. ¡°I Hamsa, do so swear that you have come to the right place. Only the finest potions here, I even have a small sample of Troll¡¯s blood that could perk up the dead.¡± He glanced at our new copper badges and his earlier enthusiasm wilted a little, ¡°but for hasty people still new to the trade, I guess something a little more affordable would be in order, at a small discount for the Guild,¡± Hamsa the alchemist sighed. My mind tried to understand the chemical properties of the potion that I had been force-fed by Degei. Through the lens of modern science and understanding, I simply could not understand the mechanics of such a phenomenon. To be able to heal internal and external injuries in such a fashion was nothing short of miraculous. However, I did not have to understand the workings behind the potions to understand their efficacity. ¡°Forgive me, Hamsa, but are there any side effects to taking such potions?¡± I blurted. Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw a shadow move behind some shelves at the rear of the shop. However, it must have been my eyes playing tricks on me, for my companions registered nothing. ¡°Not for one such as you, though perhaps in the future if you decide to grow a cleft instead of a dangle it might affect your pregnancy,¡± chuckled the alchemist before he patiently continued, blocking my view of the rear shelves, ¡°but I would still stick to only one potion a day, least until your body grows a tolerance for their effects.¡± ¡°If it is no offense, may I know the name of the one I am addressing?¡± he said obsequiously as he rubbed his hands together, a merchant shark smelling blood in the water. ¡°Oh yes, most importantly, the body can only tolerate taking a certain number of concoctions, depending on one¡¯s vitality, of course. That brute of a companion you have,¡± he commented, nodding towards Kidu, who simply adjusted his quiver, the little action effecting an air of menace. ¡°Could perhaps take three potions without ill-effects, but Master Tucker here, perhaps one or two at the most. You will, of course, forgive my impertinence, Master Tucker.¡± Hamsa bowed in a half-apology. Now I felt a spike of worry at the prospect of imbibing a single concoction, let alone multiple potions. What did they do exactly to the body? What was the price that one paid for their miraculous effects? What exactly happened when you went over your limit? The alchemist had sidestepped the potential issue of side effects, but for the moment I didn¡¯t feel like pressing the issue. ¡°The name is Gilgamesh of Uruk,¡± I offered candidly. Exchanging a quick look with Elwin, I simply nodded to him, and he began the next round of negotiations. ¡°How much for three lesser healing potions, and a single Mana potion?¡± the Rogue asked, finally getting into the swing of bargaining. ¡°I see the need for three potions of healing but, forgive my haste, I do not see an Honored One among you for the Mana...¡± commented Hamsa uncertainly. ¡°Of course, it is for another member of the guild. Something of a favor to a friend of a friend and a minor errand,¡± Elwin said offhandedly, brushing off some non-existent dirt from his tunic. ¡°Of course, forgive me for prying. Just idle chatter from an old man. Three minor potions of healing should come to six silvers, and a mana potion for another three silver,¡± offered the old alchemist. The Rogue now fully in his stride continued to bargain, ¡°But this is the first time we have visited your magnificent shop, perhaps if we promise to do business only here, and put in a good word with our fellow adventurers, you could help us in the matter of a getting a good price,¡± countered Elwin nonchalantly. ¡°Bah! You would buy colored water from those peddlers at the market square? Nonsense! Charlatans and thieves, the lot of ¡®em,¡± replied Hamsa, real vehemence in his voice before he continued, almost lecturing, ¡°I would have you know that I graduated from the University of Quas in my youth. Hah, but I see what you are trying to do. If you could get me a few Broomshead mushrooms from the forest, I could bring it down to five silvers. What say you?¡± ¡°Are you sure we won¡¯t get in trouble with the Guild?¡± I interjected swiftly. ¡°A straight arrow, eh? I will have a word with them myself. The Guild will always get their cut somehow,¡± he said, brushing me off. I simply nodded to this, and we divided up the price of potions, my enhanced Intelligence allowing me to swiftly do the arithmetic, as I took one silver, one bronze, and one copper coin from my companions each. I paid the rest of the sum myself, sure in my swift calculations, and not wanting to quibble any further. I could not help but feel that I was missing something - like my mind was searching for a connection. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. My eyes were drawn to a knotted herb that was hanging in the corner. The roots looked like a clump of ghost-white snakes and the leaves were broad blades of a deep poisonous purple. The eccentric alchemist noticed my interest and stated a simple price in a no-nonsense voice, ¡°Three gold for the Dragonsbane, and another five silver if you want me to process it into a concoction for you.¡± He must have noticed the look of stupefaction that crossed my face as he decided to explain, a little annoyance entering his voice at my obvious ignorance. ¡°Dragonsbane, one of the, if not ¡®the¡¯ strongest poison in the world. They say it was one of the only things that the flying lizards feared as it, according to the stories, at least, robbed the beasts of their flight. The Hero, himself, is said to have discovered its many and varied uses. It disrupted the flow of Mana in their wings, messed with their Mana pathways or some such nonsense, according to the sages of old. Dragons have not been seen since the Cataclysm, and I doubt if they had ever existed. Diluted, it can cause paralysis in all but the strongest of constitutions and a single drop of this distilled in its processed and purest form can kill a man in a few heartbeats. In other lower circles, it is called the Final Gift¡­ ¡± he finished rubbing his hands avariciously. I simply shook my head regretfully and made a weak promise to hopefully buy some of the herb if I was ever able to scrounge up the money at a later date. Carefully, I counted out the money on the counter in front of Hamsa. The alchemist pocketed the money with a snort and carefully handed over to us three thick red vials and one blue vial. The red ones were presumably healing potions and the smoky blue potion was most likely the Mana potion, at a guess. We thanked Hamsa, and after confirming where we could find the Broomhead mushrooms, we left the foul-smelling yurt. I shielded my eyes from the strong late morning sun as we exited Hamsa¡¯s establishment and adjusted my tear-shaped shield across my armored shoulder. Then I divided the potions with my group, keeping the single blue Mana potion for myself, ¡°How big are Lurkers supposed to be anyways? Anything I should know about them?¡± I asked of Elwin as I took care of a recent crick in my neck. ¡°Not too big, they can grow about six paces from snout to tail. Their mouths are mostly filled with daggers for teeth and can shred just about anything. The trick is to get them out of the water where they are ever so slightly slower,¡± answered the Rogue, his eyes scanning the streets. ¡°Then I guess it¡¯s going to be a bit beyond us to carry their hides by ourselves. We will need to invest in a beast of burden,¡± I said with a smile. Perhaps we could even get an exotic creature like a domesticated Laur, I thought to myself. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m with you on that,¡± replied the Rogue, eager to make his life easier by any means necessary. ¡°Let¡¯s head off to the market and see what we shall see.¡± We continued, in relatively good spirits, and made good progress through the streets to the market. Once there, we entered the section where a large selection of creatures was being sold. Some were predators that hissed at us from behind the thick metal bars of their cages, displaying fangs, talons, and claws that could easily rip flesh and tear bone. Others were more placid and docile, like the sleepy large rodent-like creatures called Catyids, according to Elwin at least. These beasts looked like an even larger version of a Terran capybara but with a long sinuous scaled tail. What drew my eye, however, was a wretched creature that was being led to a butcher¡¯s block. It was a donkey, and one of its legs was lame, or broken, and the owner, a turbaned man with an impressive handlebar mustache, probably wanted to cut their losses on future feed and grain. Sensing a potential bargain, I called out to the man, which surprised both of my companions. ¡°Hey! How much for that donkey?¡± I shouted in the owner¡¯s direction. The man turned around, surprised that someone had interrupted him, and looked at me perplexed before finally answering, ¡°This beast¡¯s no good. Lame leg, only good for glue or stew now,¡± he sighed, as the donkey brayed in a panic, almost as if it understood its fate. ¡°How much for the donkey? And some feed and grain?¡± I continued, undeterred, the seed of a cunning plan forming in my mind. ¡°Stubborn one, ain¡¯t ya? Well, guess I could get half a silver from the knackers, so I¡¯ll do you for that? Throw in some feed for another two bronze? Throw in a carrot or two if you like,¡± answered the man, almost licking his lips with glee. My companions looked at me as if I had gone soft in the head as I handed the man seven bronze coins, not even bothering to dicker about the price. I smiled at the man as we completed our transaction and he kept looking at me as if at any moment I would seek to renege upon our bargain. I quickly had a look at my purse and counted out my coins. After all the various fees and expenditures I calculated that I had just a bit over one gold in various shrapnel. My own father often referred to coins as shrapnel, strange that I could remember his words, but still, his name and face now eluded me. I was no expert on equines, but even I could see that our newest party member was rather on the large side for a donkey. A frail-looking thing, mostly skin and bones, she stood sixteen hands high and was bigger than some of the horses I had seen. She was a dull black, except for white fetlocks that looked like socks, and white again around her mouth and forelock. Her entire coat was unhealthy looking and there were several bald patches, probably due to malnutrition or stress. The donkey looked at me with sad-looking eyes as I fed her a slightly wilted carrot, which she half-heartedly chomped down on. ¡°I think I¡¯ll call you Patches. A bit of a boring name, but I think it suits you,¡± I told my new donkey as she looked at me with soulful eyes. ***** It was slow going on the way back to the inn, as our donkey was lame, and we had to stop off to buy a harness and tack for half a silver, which Kidu was forced to carry, much to Elwin¡¯s amusement. The pair of them looked at me as if I had gone crazy. After all, what was the point of buying a beast of burden that couldn¡¯t carry anything? Still, I assured them that there was a method to my madness, and even Elwin stopped with his frequent protestations and suggestions about making donkey stew. We entered the empty stables and I told Elwin to watch the street to make sure no one entered. Kidu saw to the donkey while I filled a trough with grain and another with water from a dark wooden barrel. The donkey had started to eat now with gusto and was looking decidedly better. Once Patches was happily fed and watered, I decided to put the plan I had been brewing since the marketplace in motion. First I drew my power inwards, focusing on the warm luster and, pushing from my center, the golden energies that constituted my strongest healing spell. Silently I cast Greater Heal, going through the ceremony of its long cast entirely in my mind. The spell complete, I released the invigorating light slowly into Patches¡¯ broken body. First, her lame leg straightened with an audible ¡®pop¡¯, as the limb was forced to take on a healthy shape. The golden light continued to flow around the donkey, repairing the damage of the cruel and long years under an uncaring master. Both within and without the magic restored the animal to its best possible form. Her dark coat regained its luster and there was a new sparkle to her intelligent eyes as she brayed with joy. The spell had taken a full two-thirds of my Mana, but I was overjoyed that my little experiment had worked. Patches nuzzled my hand, recognizing that I was her source of good fortune. Kidu just nodded in understanding, his faith in me reinforced. ¡°That was well done,¡± the large man praised, as he ran a hand across the donkey¡¯s back as he began to load Patches¡¯ tack. A warm feeling began to suffuse me and I nodded to Kidu in appreciation. I simply couldn¡¯t help myself as I cast Identify on my new pet.
Patches - (Donkey lvl.12)
Health: 264/264 Stamina: 51/51 Mana: 4/4
Well, that was just great. Even the donkey was stronger than me, or at least was at a higher level. In a way, it sort of made sense. Animals were generally physically superior to humans. I still snorted a little in frustration and the donkey brayed in affection, displaying large perfectly white pearly teeth. Once Kidu had finished mounting the tack on my donkey, we left the stables, and Elwin almost shouted in surprise at Patches¡¯ new and improved form before Kidu hissed him to silence. ¡°What happened?¡± Elwin asked curiously, bemusement all over his face. ¡°The blessing of the gods,¡± said Kidu almost reverently, which caused Elwin to bluster a little before he finally caught on. Now that Patches was no longer lame, we were able to unload our camping supplies onto the donkey''s packs. In good spirits, we made our way at a rapid clip along the eastern road and passed the gate guards. With a wave and a smile, I greeted the corrupt Dagesh, the same guard who had introduced us to the Twisted Boar. I turned back to look at the city, still stained with the light of morning, a mix of emotions filling the pit of my stomach. Here, if I could rise above the rabble, I had a feeling I could achieve anything. I felt the first buds of something unfold, a lofty but somewhat vague thing, but a goal nonetheless. Blown about as I had been, it gave me a point to fix upon and a path to pursue. The gods had sent me here for their own purposes, twisting my fate as they saw fit. I needed power to resist their meddling. And, I would make sure not to seek power for power¡¯s sake. Down that road lay only evil and corruption. No, I would seek just enough power to be free. And perhaps, if possible, a sliver of the Divine¡¯s eternity. That would be my vengeance. A sliver of eternity, to live forever, it certainly had a nice ring to it. Even if all of this was simply a manifestation of my madness, a coma dream, time, I was coming to realize was a precious commodity. Time, its true length did not matter, only how long it was perceived. The longer I had with my turn the better. My brushes with oblivion had taught me the alternatives, and it scared me. Whether this world was real or not, a man needed a goal. A higher purpose. Immortality would be the ultimate form of survival. Soon we would be entering the domain of the great Sainba forest, where my companions and I would be put to the test once more. But as I gazed upon the verdant forest in the distance, I remembered the woman, her shocked expression and the arena, as my mind finally made a connection. I remembered a mother¡¯s grief, which had shattered the Tide¡¯s ancient rite of passage, with its great lament. Book 1: Epilogue Exquisite could not begin to describe what he saw before him. The strokes and subtle application of line and shadow, each accent and touch a study in technique-both effortless in their execution, yet perfect in style. The colors drew the eye here and there, a new shape for the imagination to take in before drawing them back to the overall piece and its true magnificence. Each time he looked upon his work he saw new aspects that he, himself, had never seen before. Perfection, and thus would go unappreciated by those who saw it only with their eyes, and not through the lens of their soul. The true aspect of the divine transcended brush, paint, and canvas. The artist began to add imperfections to his work, his heart breaking with every adjustment, with every distortion that he was made to render. When he could finally take no more, he forced himself, exhausted, to a lemon-scented bowl of water placed near his desk by one of his aides, where he splashed himself with icy water. Then the horror came back. The horror that had haunted him through childhood, that propelled his art to levels that debased, created, and molded him. He saw his own face distorted across the water¡¯s surface, the colored oils twisting his visage into a monster as he saw the stigmata of the goddess. It would seem that no matter what heights he reached, to whatever new levels of artistic or spiritual nirvana, the mark would always hold him back, even as it propelled him up the ranks of the ecclesiarchy. Jealousy, once hot, but grown cold with the passing of the years, flared before he was interrupted from his thoughts by a knock at his door. ¡°A hundred pardons, your eminence, but you asked to be informed if there was any news of the location of Her Champion,¡± said a tonsured bookish man, bowing low as he entered the room. ¡°Then spit it out, Fedius. You have interrupted my meditations on the nature of the goddess, yet again,¡± said the artist, in annoyance, stealing a glance at his latest work before donning the robes of his office. ¡°Yes, Cardinal Mauros. One of our assets in the Grieving Lands, in the heathen city of Ansan, has detected the God-spark of Her Champion,¡± said the nervous aide, looking with awe at the cardinal''s latest piece of art. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. The oil painting showed the veiled Goddess of Justice with an expression of righteous anger. However, the lines of her body displayed the welcoming warmth of compassion, like a mother¡¯s invitation. In her right hand, she held the long heavy sword of Judgment, and in her left she gripped the short knife of Mercy. The whole painting was truly sublime, showing movement and motion shackled in a single moment, frozen forever in the stillness of eternity. Mauros, one of the highest-ranking members of Her Church, stopped for a moment. New emotions added to his seething mixture of annoyance and threatened to spill over into violent rage. With a supreme effort of will, he stopped himself from throwing something at the bearer of the news. ¡°You have, of course, verified this?¡± said Mauros, his anger turning into the cold professional calculation that had allowed him to reach his high rank. ¡°Yes, of course, your eminence. They are one of our most trustworthy agents. However, there was an irregularity...¡± he said as he bowed even lower, fearing the ire of his master. ¡°You do say¡­?¡± the cardinal replied, raising a cultured eyebrow in a mix of annoyance and curiosity. ¡°The God-spark was detected, yet disappeared after a few hours, according to our source. It is posited that perhaps the Champion has found a way to shield his or her divine grace,¡± continued Fedius, bowing even lower, in brazen defiance of physics. ¡°No matter, we must pursue all leads in regard to God-spark. We will send a team of our best inquisitors and knights to the region but do be sure that they go under no banner and that the rites of secrecy are observed. By our very best, you will also see to it that the Light of the Faith leads them. Also, be sure to send that overly zealous hothead, the one the lay priests call the ¡®the little goddess¡¯ as well. I believe that she should be used to dealing with the locals there. You will collar the bearer of the God-spark with blessed metals and bring him into the loving arms of the church, the Goddess will have it no other way,¡± proclaimed Cardinal Mauros, the authority of his office echoing with each word like the judgment of the hammer. ¡°It shall be as you command, your Eminence. As the Goddess wills,¡± intoned the aide reverently, with no little relief. ¡°Yes, as the Goddess wills my child,¡± replied the cardinal automatically, sure in his conviction and interpretation of the divine will. Inwardly, he still seethed. Because, for all his efforts, and despite a righteous life lived, he could never be her chosen. How dare they go against Her great will, he thought. He would chain Her rebellious Champion to Her divine intent. Even if they chose to cross to the other side through the veil of death, he swore that he would bring them back, a thousand times if necessary. Book 1: Glossary & Dramatis Personae Aditi - The old female cook in the slave pits. It is thanks to her that Gilgamesh is able to survive. [the] Adventurer¡¯s Guild - An organization specializing in slaying monsters, gathering rare and precious materials, conquering dungeons, and protecting the weak. They are rivals of the Mercenary Guild. Aeyory - Sacred trees of Avaria. Except for the trees blessed by the goddess herself, which are in bloom throughout the year, the Aeyory trees usually blossom when the snows of winter thaw. Since military campaigns usually start in spring, the blossoms of the tree have come to symbolize war. Ancestor Spear - An object of reverence for the Children of the Tides. It was Gilgamesh¡¯s first weapon. Ansan - Seat of power for the Children of the Tides. The city of tents is built around an ancient Ark made of mystical living Witchwood. It is a nexus of trade. Ansarai¡¯s Fighting Pit - A seedy fighting pit in Ansan. Gilgamesh wins a lot of money here by placing a bet on Vidone Amantea, a plant from the organizers. Aranthia - A kingdom far to the west of Ansan. Arbitrator - A man responsible for dispensing justice in the borderlands of Aranthia. Arimea Lostariot - An elven Spellsinger. Gilgamesh and his companions barely survive a hostile encounter with her and her entourage just outside of Ansan. Arvan Azzarik - A gladiator in Ansarai¡¯s Fighting Pit. Avaria - Goddess of Justice. Known in the North as ¡®Vari, Chooser of the Slain¡¯. She is often symbolized wielding the Sword of Justice and the Knife of Mercy. [the] Beacon Mountains - An active volcano range and the home of Durhit Coal, a companion of Gilgamesh. Beron de Laney - Author of ¡®The Fanciful Travels¡¯, an account of his travels and adventures across the world of Gesthe. Bibsis - An amphibious monster sacred to the Children of the Tides, due to their control over the element of water. Also known as Rain-Bringers or Callers. It is believed that they have a link with the torrential annual rains that sweep the grass sea. [the] Blooding - Part of the Winnowing. Bogurchu Batbayar - A Waverider of the Children of the Tides. He is one of the first people that Gilgamesh encounters. Bone-Dragon - A necromantic creation made from the flesh of a newly deceased dragon. [the] Breaking - Another term for the Cataclysm. Bronzegate Hold - The place Durhit mentions as he dies. Broomshead - A type of mushroom that the Alchemist Hamsa requests Gilgamesh find for him. Calling - The calling to which one¡¯s soul is naturally inclined. It is a path of fate. Caru nut - The seed from the Caru tree. When falling from a great height, these large nuts can kill. The remains of those killed then act as fertilizer for the new tree. Cataclysm - An apocalyptic event. The last Cataclysm was caused by the seed of oblivion being brought into the world of Gesthe. Catyid - A large docile rodent that resembles a capybara but with a scaly, sinuous tail. Charisma - The attribute that governs how one can interact effectively with others. It includes confidence and eloquence, and it can represent a charming or commanding personality. Cillis Aideh - Smith of the Soot-Stained Pig. Supplies Gilgamesh and his companions with a new set of armor and equipment. Trains Gilgamesh in the use of flails. [the] Concord - An agreement between all of the higher beings. Constitution - This attribute encompasses a character''s physique, toughness, general health and resistance to disease and poisons. It also determines the number of potions one can consume without ill effect. The Constitution attribute greatly affects both Stamina and Health. Cronir - A large animal found in the North. They are hunted by the people of the Kar-Kaphon and the Ice Drakes. Dagesh - A corrupt guard in Ansan. He recommends that Gilgamesh stay at his cousin¡¯s inn, the Twisted Boar. Darcen Tsend - Guildmaster of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild branch in Ansan. Reputedly has the ability to detect lies. Darren Kragain - A Bard whom Gilgamesh encounters in the Twisted Boar. Gilgamesh inspires Darren to create a new type of music by introducing him to melodies from his own world. Deeptakers - An elite group of dwarven warrior miners who explore the Everdark in search of treasure and long-lost artifacts. Degei Ganbataar - Slave Overseer of the Slave Pits of Ansan. Disciplines and tortures Gilgamesh after he kills Harun. Devon the Dirk - A drunken regular of the Twisted Boar. He taught Gilgamesh how to throw knives. Dexterity - This attribute is a reflection of a number of physical abilities including hand-eye coordination, agility, reflexes, fine motor skills, balance, and speed of movement. Dexterity also moderately affects maximum Stamina. Durhit Coal - A dwarf from the Beacon Mountains. He became a slave in Ansan as his sister Evenes was unable to pay for his war ransom. He is slain by a chameleonic variant of the Echo-Stalker. Dragon - Capricious sentient winged lizards that possess great physical and magical might. They are some of the most powerful beings on Gesthe and their might is said to rival the gods themselves. Dragonroot - A highly valuable alchemical ingredient. It can be used to craft a poison that is said to be able to kill a Dragon. Dragonroot has wide-bladed purple leaves and white roots. The plants are guarded by the monstrous Jaderock bees. The poison concocted from this ingredient is also known as ¡®Widow¡¯s Mercy¡¯ or the ¡®Final Gift¡¯. Earth-Mother - A dwarven term applied to the element of Earth, the soil, the rocks, and the mountains. Dwarves believe that all creatures are of the Earth since all must return to it one day. Echo-Stalker - A monstrous, multi-limbed, insectile creature found in the deep parts of the world. Elves - A long-lived humanoid species whose origin is shrouded in mystery. The elves refer to themselves as the ¡®The First Children¡¯. They are allies of the Fae. There are several varieties of elves. Elwin Tucker - Gilgamesh meets Elwin in the slave pits of Ansan. He professed to be a Forester, but is, in fact, a Rogue. Entropy - One of the first primordials. Entropy, as a higher truth, is present in almost all things in the universe. Evenes - Durhit¡¯s sister. She could not pay Durhit¡¯s ransom when he was taken as a prisoner of war. This led to the dwarf becoming a slave in Ansan. [the] Everdark - A vast subterranean realm beneath the surface of the world. Fae - The inhabitants of the In-Between. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Fen Vaigorus - Author of the ¡°The Living Sword.¡± [the] Festival of the Undrawn - A martial tournament in an unknown city. Gaven Tolaris - A gladiator in Ansarai¡¯s Fighting Pit. Gesthe - The name of the world our protagonist finds himself in. The word means ¡®Garden¡¯ in the language of the elves. Gideon de Salavia - an academic and scholar who authored numerous books exploring topics such as justice, morality, and humanity''s place in the world. Gilgamesh of Uruk - The first hero and protagonist of our story. In certain translations, Gilgamesh is also known as the Watcher of the Deep Places. Girabis - A large gentle creature used as a pack animal. [the] Glass Fire Sea - An area of ocean protected by sentinel crystals that burn incoming ships to a crisp. Gnarlug Bonegrinder - An orc in Ansarai¡¯s Fighting Pit. He is slain by Vidone. Goblin - A small green feral humanoid. Thought to be cousins to the orcs. God-touched - The name of those who suffer from epileptic fits. [the] Grass Sea - The domain of the Children of the Tides. Travel across this vast expanse is difficult, as a Water Mage is required to conjure drinking water. Great Crawler - A large underground creature. It is believed that they are the cause of some earthquakes. Also known as Earth Dragons. [the] Grieving Lands - The name of the region where Gilgamesh is initially transported to. Gunne - A boy who had sworn vengeance against Gilgamesh for killing Harun the Iron. On Durhit¡¯s request, Gilgamesh kills Gunne out of mercy. Hamsa - An eccentric Alchemist in Ansan. Harun the Iron - The first human our protagonist kills. Gilgamesh kills the large man after he cuts in front of him to wash. Hassan - Gilgamesh encounters this man when he becomes a slave. Hassan is charismatic and sanguine, but tremendously obese. Healing Potion - An item that, when imbibed, restores Health. Health - The measure of one¡¯s current physical status. Ice Drake - Lesser cousins of the dragons. They prey upon the Cronir. They grow more vicious and powerful as they age. Icewalker - The title for those who have lived for fifty years or more in the North. Intelligence - The attribute that measures mental acuity, the accuracy of recall, and the ability to reason. It significantly affects maximum Mana capacity. [the] Inverse Mountain - A legendary place in the Everdark. Iron Slave-collar of Obedience - A magical collar that can cause great pain to the wearer. Jongshoi Aigiam - A boy that Gilgamesh is forced to kill in the Winnowing. Kar-Kaphon - How the people of the North refer to their home of endless tundra and ice. K.D. Fidditch - Author of the book Monsters of Mortal Realm. Staple reading for Adventurers. Kazass - Strong drink made from the fermented blood of Cronir. Khisam - Husband of Cillis Aideh. Kidu Kreshin - A peerless warrior and Hunter of the Three Bears clan from the far North or Kar-Kaphon. He is a loyal companion of our protagonist. Gilgamesh encounters Kidu in the slave pits of Ansan. Lanarisa - An elven adventurer in Ansan. She is currently one of the highest ranking members of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Lanelo - A purple fruit that is commonly used to make refreshing fruit juice. [the] Language of Knots - In ancient times, the Children of the Tides traveled the seas. Since paper could get wet and rot easily at sea, they used knots to record things and communicate. In the modern era, many people across the Grieving Lands still use knotted pieces of string, with the knots representing words and ideas. Laur - A genus of six-limbed warm-blooded creatures. They look like a cross between a wolverine and a warthog. Some Laur species have been domesticated. [the] Living Sword - A treatise on how a warrior should train in the use of a sword and a commentary on martial arts in general. Written by Fen Vaigorus. Luck - How this attribute works remains a mystery to Gilgamesh. Mana - The source of magic for the world of Gesthe. It is called the god-gift by the many races of Gesthe and is associated with life itself. Mana Potion - An item that, when imbibed, restores Mana. [the] March Reaches - A borderland region of the Kingdom of Aranthia. [the] Mercenary Guild - The rivals to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Monsters of the Mortal Realm - A encyclopedic book detailing the monsters of the world of Gesthe. Navigator - In ancient times they relied on the skills of the Navigators to cross the great seas of Gesthe. However, in the modern age, Navigators are relied upon to chart the best course of action for their people. Necromancy - The art of raising the dead and bringing them back into a state of unlife. This school of magic was discovered by the ancient Republic of Arastia before the last Cataclysm. Nord - Cousins to the people of Kar-Kaphon. Nords are the seagoing people of the North. [the] North - A vast expanse of ice and tundra. Also known as the Kar-Kaphon. Olai - A Navigator for the Children of the Tides. Condemns Gilgamesh to fight in the winnowing. Orc - A powerful green-skinned race of humanoids. They grow stronger and more powerful if they are injured or go into a bestial heat. Patches - The large donkey that Gilgamesh saves from the butcher¡¯s block. Quas - Name of both an island, and the city on it. It is famous for being a center of learning. Quassian - The name of the people and the language of Quas. Rawesan - The blessed land of scripture. [the] Republic of Arastia - The nation that fought against the Alliance in ages past. [the] River God - The god of time and prophecy. Also known as the god of the ¡®Wend and Way¡¯. River-Lurker - A six-legged crocodilian. They can often be found near where River Root grows. River Root - An alchemical ingredient. It is part of a request that Gilgamesh and his companions accept as one of their jobs as adventurers. Rockcrab - An edible land crustacean. They are commonly found scavenging through the waste and detritus of cities and urban areas. Sahel - The name of the Sun that the world of Gesthe orbits. Sainba - A large ancient forest filled with gigantic trees. Seaguard - A coastal town with high walls, ruled by Lord Farilse. [the] Seed of Oblivion - An artifact that was brought into the world of Gesthe from another plane of existence. [the] Shallow River - The river that represents death. [the] Soot-Stained Pig - A smithery and armory in Ansan city. Stamina - The capacity to engage in physically demanding activities. When certain conditions are met, Health can be used in the place of Stamina. Stone-eater - A derogatory term for a dwarf. Strength - The Strength attribute is a measure of muscle strength, endurance, and stamina combined. Strength moderately affects Stamina and to a much lesser degree, maximum Health. Taciano - Clerk at the Adventurer¡¯s Guild in Ansan. He is assigned to Gilgamesh¡¯s party. Taper Athinad - Proprietor of the Twisted Boar, an inn and tavern in the city of Ansan. Three Bears - A Tribe of the North. Time of Trials - A period when the North is especially cold and unforgiving. Trade - The common language and lingua franca for the Grieving Lands. Truth-seal - A piece of paper that is used to confirm bets in Ansan. Tsengelt-tum - A hybrid weapon that is capable of acting as both a simple mace and a deadly flail. The chain is short enough that it will not hit the wielder¡¯s hand. Under-Kingdoms - The ancient realms of the dwarves before the Cataclysm. Vidone Amantea - A Duelist from Quas. He slays the orc Bonegrinder in Ansarai¡¯s Fighting Pit. Vizzeks - The first Bone-Dragon. Waverider - An officer in the standing army of the Children of the Tides. Wildlands - The untamed area beyond the Sainba forest. Windspeaker - Keepers of the oral traditions and lore of the Kar-Kaphon. A few of them can harness the elemental power of Mana. Winnowing - The sacred act where the young men of the Tides must prove themselves capable of taking the life of another man. Wisdom - The attribute that governs willpower, common sense, perception, and intuition. It moderately affects maximum Mana and Mana regeneration. Witchbound - A term describing a magical tool or item. Witchwood - A near-legendary substance grown from the groves of giant sentient trees that have their roots in both the world of Gesthe and the In Between. Sacred to the Elves and the Fae. Zajasite - Glowing crystals that are mined from the earth. Book 1: Cataclysm [Original Prologue] The war had started at the behest of the elves when they were still one people. The First Children spoke of the great devourer, the herald of the end that would consume all things and leave this world a shriveled, cold husk of rock. They predicted that Mana, the god-gift that flowed through all things, the giver of life and the hope of the future, would be ended by this grave new threat. The diviners and the truth seers of the elves called for war against a small country far to the west, across the Untouched Sea, ruled by a mage-king they divined would bring about the end-times. The High King of the elves, acknowledging the words of the prophecy, sent his envoys to the realms of man and throughout the civilized lands. Although humans were short-lived in comparison to the elder race, they were as numerous as the trees in the forest and were almost as ferocious as the barbaric orcs of the Long Hills. The League and the Old Empire ceased their endemic wars, united with the promise of gifts of powerful elven artifacts and mithril bullion. The Under-Kingdoms were slower to answer the call, but dwarven greed eventually won over ancient enmity and they flocked to the banner under elven kind. The dragons of the mountains and the sky, understanding the threat the mage-king possessed grudgingly promised aid, though in their pride they would suffer none to command them. The Fae of the deep woods and the places of the In-Between honored ancient pacts and promises, presenting their best warriors and life mages. They also gave unto the First Children great stores of witchwood lumber, grown from the giant sentient trees that had roots in both worlds so that the elven craftsmen might make living ships to travel the deeps. The forces under the command of the Elven High King were named the Eastern Alliance, as an entire continent prepared for war. The Queen¡¯s first egg was to be presented in ten turns of the seasons as a new bride. Such was the desperation of the alliance with the fate of the world on their shoulders. The Dragons in their great pride would never forget what the ¡®lesser races¡¯ had forced upon them, and their resentment would only grow with the passage of time. After many years the great horde started their journey across the vast Untouched Seas, unmolested by the scaled leviathans of the deep. The dragons had negotiated their safe passage, securing it in the ancient way of their kind. The serpents of the sky and sea were to be bound together once more. The great Arks, living ships of near-indestructible magical witchwood, made excellent time across the water, their massive bulk now pushed and pulled by the gigantic leviathans that made the deep places of the sea their home. Great cheers were raised when the ships made landfall on the western continent. Spies from the alliance and divine scrying showed that the mage-king was actually no king at all. In fact, he was seen to be more of a Steward and Servant of the people and was in fact chosen by the majority of them which was a concept that was so alien and foreign to the members of the alliance. The system of government was seen as preposterous for who would ever in their right mind allow the common man to dictate the rules of power above their station? They were met on the beaches by envoys of the unknown mage-king under the banner of peace. Their decapitated heads were sent back wrapped in spider-silk and sweet-scented with Aeyory blossoms, a traditional declaration of total war in the east. But the spies and scouts of the unknown kingdom had not been idle, and they discovered horrifying facts that only hardened the resolve of the people to resist. Many of those who were brought across the ocean were in fact slaves. Men and women who had pulled at the great oars, who had cleaned and scrubbed the decks, tended the fires and cooked the meals that fed the armies and a thousand more labours were chattel with the hateful mark of slavery inscribed upon their bodies. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The Eastern Alliance vastly underestimated the depths to which a free people would resist an oppressor, and troops of the kingdom now known to be called the Republic of Arastia fought with great zeal and fervour. They knew what fate awaited every single man, woman, and child should they become a conquered people. With the cost in blood ever-rising as the war raged on, the leader of the Alliance, the Elven High King even offered amnesty to the Republic on the condition that they surrender their leader in chains. This was met with derision by the senate and their envoy was sent back with a message that there would be no surrender to the savage barbarians from across the seas. So incensed by the refusal of what he thought was a reasonable offer of amnesty the High King of the Elves begged once more with the Dragon Queen for aid, offering a dragon¡¯s egg weight in precious silvery mithril. Greed sinking its claws into her reptilian heart, she commanded that flights of dragons launch into the sky and rain death and destruction on the Republic. The world would feel once more the terror of living under the shadow of the great serpents. Though a small nation, it was a nation of free thinkers where great strides had been made in the fields of magic. Even so, their mages who were growing fewer could not protect them all from the constant barrage from the skies. Desperate, the Republic sanctioned the use of a newly researched form of magic that combined dark and life energies in an aberration of the natural order. Necromancy, the art of raising the dead and bringing them back in some corrupted form of unlife. A lucky ballista bolt shot from atop one of the border forts was able to fell one of the lesser dragons from the sky, piercing it through the heart. The bespelled adamantine tip punching through inches of rock hard scale and thick muscle. The mages of Arastia ecstatic having acquired a vessel of indomitable power poured all of their magical might into the dragon¡¯s now still corpse. Slowly, like a grave flower blossoming the dark energies flowed into the great lizard¡¯s cadaver sloughing now rotting flesh from thick pristine white dragon bone. A new nightmare was born, arising with the stench of a freshly turned grave and all the majesty of the winged tyrants of the sky. The first Bone-Dragon Vizzeks came into existence with a roar and the howl of a thousand lost tortured souls. With the birth of the Bone-Dragon, the Dragons were horrified and unwilling to play any further part in the campaign. With the loss of one of their number, they felt the first pangs of fear of newfound mortality. The great lizards left the short-lived races to their fate and flew back across the ocean to their high mountain homes. With their departure, the war began to grow back into a grinding stalemate. With casualties mounting on both sides, the Republic began to lose its appetite for war. Even with necromancy filling the holes in the army ranks, the constant attrition of war was beginning to wear away at the people, with some even demanding that they heed the elve¡¯s earlier offers of amnesty. The Steward of the Republic, feeling the pressure of his people¡¯s cries, searched for a way to end the war and force the invaders back. Research into the necromantic arts, sped up by the twins need and necessity, had opened dark channels into another plane of existence. Here the sibilant denizens of the void promised a quick end to the war with something that was translated by the magical researchers as the ¡®Seed of Oblivion.¡¯ Grasping at a chance of total victory the leader of the Republic accepted the dark bargain and brought the Seed fully into the world. Elven mages felt the horror of the void for the first time as it touched their minds, with many of their number going mad and unleashing the sum total of their magical energies. Those who kept their sanity failed to shield the rest of their brothers and sisters, their own defences overwhelmed with the pouring out of wild entropic magic that ate away everything it touched. The short-lived races too were ravaged by the horrors of the great beyond, their delicate psyches overwhelmed by the total fear of the end of all things. Those who had the gift of magic were consumed in a conflagration of magical energies which started a chain reaction throughout the rest of the world. Only those who had fully given themselves to the path of necromancy had any defence against the great psychic cry that consumed any of those who had a spark of magical aptitude. Seas rose, and continents cracked under the energies that ravaged the world. The sky itself burned in places that scoured the very ground beneath of all life. Great volcanos spewed mountains of dark ash into the air covering the world in primordial darkness. In the deep places of the ocean, there was to be no refuge, the water boiled, killing all but the hardiest of creatures and the people of the Mer suffered greatly. Thus was the first cataclysm started, and the game board set anew for the unending game of the thirsting gods. - By an unknown Quassian Scholar. Book 2: Of What Has Gone Before... Of What Has Gone Before¡­ On the brink of death, a university student is transported from his world to the magical land of Gesthe by the powerful Goddess of Justice, Avaria, to become her Champion. However, a darker power, the primal force of Entropy, takes interest in him, and places its mark upon him to better suit its purposes. Disorientated, naked, and alone, he finds himself in a sea of grass; a hill with a solitary tree atop it, serves as the only landmark. This strange scene is as alien as it is familiar, for he has seen this before in his dreams. He begins to receive strange messages, reminiscent of the information boxes of the games that he used to play, giving him a quest and urging him to go forth. He is inexorably drawn towards the tree. Arriving at the tree, he completes his first Quest and gains his first level. This grants him a new skill, Power Strike, and the magic spells Heal and Rust. At the foot of the tree, he finds some old robes, a magical scroll, a half-broken spear, and a small shrine dedicated to Avaria. He is given another quest to repair the altar; however, angered by who had brought him here against his will, he ignores it. Here he also learns a spell from the scroll, called Identify. Hungry and thirsty, he almost dies from exposure on his first night, but is able to save himself by using his Heal spell. In the morning, he sees that below the hill is a pool of water. It is inhabited by Bibsis, amphibious monsters that spit solid balls of water. Needing to sate his hunger and thirst, he drinks from the pool, attacks the Bibsis, and consumes them raw. This action teaches him a variety of new skills and earns him a few levels, further reinforcing his view that this world is nothing more than a game or a hallucination. The next day, he is violently accosted by a small patrol of mounted locals, called the Children of Tides. To our protagonist, from their dress and ethnic features, these people resemble the old Mongols of Earth. He is thrown in jail to await his fate. There, he uses this time to train his body, improving his physical attributes. The old knowledge of Earth serves him well, garnering him boosts to his Intelligence and Wisdom. Using the Identify spell, and his improved intellect, he also rapidly learns the local language and the name of the place he is in: It is the great city of Ansan, jewel of the Grieving Lands. He tries to communicate with a local boy called Jongshoi, but fails miserably and is only able to spook him. Finally, Navigator Olai, a wizened crone, and one of the leaders of Ansan, meets with him to pass judgment. When asked his name, the protagonist realizes that he can not recall it at all. Pressed, he instead takes up the moniker of Gilgamesh, the first and greatest of all heroes. Olai pronounces, unjustly, that for his crime of desecrating the shrine of Avaria, he is to be sent to participate in an event called the Winnowing, and fight in the arena for his life. This bloody event is a rite of passage for the Children of Tides, marking the point where a boy becomes a man. In the arena, he is paired against Jongshoi. Jongshoi is much better armed and armored than him, but ultimately Gilgamesh prevails and kills him. Although victorious, his fate is still a grim one: he is taken away, branded and collared as a slave. The iron slave collar is a magical collar, causing great pain on command, or when tampered with by the slave. Along with other new slaves, he is escorted to his new home, the slave pits of Ansan. There, he makes friends with another slave, a dwarf named Durhit. Being told to wash, Gilgamesh moves to a small artificial stream to bathe and relieve himself. However, the water is dirty, so he searches for cleaner water upstream. A large man, a Nord called Harun the Iron, blocks his way. In an explosion of raw, unrestrained violence, Gilgamesh overpowers and kills him. This earns him experience and improvements in his abilities, as well as giving him new skills, and teaches Gilgamesh that murder in this world is rewarded. Shortly thereafter, he is beaten and healed repeatedly by the slave Overseer Degei, who thinks he has broken Gilgamesh. But the fires of rebellion grow bright within Gilgamesh, and it is this that draws the giant troublemaker Kidu, another slave, to his side. A boy named Gunne, who had adored Harun, threatens vengeance upon Gilgamesh one evening. Gilgamesh mocks and threatens him in turn. Gilgamesh is nearly worked to death in the mines; the only thing keeping him alive is the restorative nature of his Heal spell. He begins to seriously think of escaping. Finally, he remembers that he had been gifted another spell when he first entered this world¡ªRust. For some mysterious reason¡ªmore than just mere forgetfulness¡ªhe had never thought to use this spell. Using the elusive Rust, he experiments on the manacles of the other slaves, and even Kidu¡¯s collar, slowly eroding their bindings. Eventually, he is able to undo the magic of his own slave collar, but just as a path to freedom is opened to him, an earthquake occurs. This earthquake causes damage to the mines, and Gilgamesh, Durhit, Kidu, and a few others slaves are sent to clear out the rubble. Among their number is a fearsome orc, and a rascal who introduces himself as Elwin Tucker, a Forester. They begin to clear out the mines, but there is another earthquake. The roof of the tunnel collapses on them, trapping them underground. The boy Gunne is grievously injured, and Durhit asks Gilgamesh to put him out of his misery. Wanting more experience points, Gilgamesh has no qualms about ending Gunne¡¯s life. They reunite with Elwin and an unconscious Kidu. Elwin begins to despair, and Gilgamesh lets them know that he may be able to free them from the pernicious effect of the slave collars. Gilgamesh Heals Kidu and casts Rust on their slave collars. The Rust spell successfully erodes the iron of the collars to negate their magic. Durhit then complains that Gilgamesh could have healed Gunne. Kidu defends Gilgamesh, stating that Gilgamesh was under no obligation to aid Gunne, who had sworn vengeance against him. With the matter of the collars taken care of, Gilgamesh, Kidu the Hunter, Elwin the Rogue, and Durhit the dwarven Sapper decide to venture deeper into the mines. Of the orc, there is no sign. Exploring further, they find themselves in a nest of Echo-Stalkers, an insect-like group of monsters. Trusting in Durhit¡¯s dwarven instincts, they go deeper into the nest, finding some basic weapons and equipment in its garbage pit. Searching for a way out, they fight more of the creatures, only to discover that some of the Echo-Stalkers have been killed by a third party. Durhit posits that it was the missing orc who had killed them. The dwarf also comments that it is possible that the pain from the collar has driven the orc into a bestial frenzy. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Following the path of destruction left behind by the orc, they hear the sound of running water. They are excited, for running water could mean a potential way out. They hurry to the source of the sound, where they encounter more Echo-Stalkers. The group fights their way through to find a massive cavern and an underground river. The orc is fighting here, alone, against a teeming horde of Echo-Stalkers. Without warning, Durhit is killed by a near-invisible chameleonic strain of Echo-Stalker. With his dying breath, Durhit croaks out his sister¡¯s name and ¡°Bronzegate.¡± Gilgamesh takes a moment to cast Rust on the orc¡¯s collar, wounding it. Now, should the orc fall, Gilgamesh would be informed of its death via a death notification. The group makes their way out of the cavern, escaping into the Great Sainba Forest. Gilgamesh receives the orc¡¯s death notification and, fearing pursuit, he urges the group to keep running until exhaustion threatens to undo them. They finally decide to rest, and Gilgamesh dreams of a dusty room filled with many objects. Each of these objects represents a Class Choice. Gilgamesh chooses the Paladin Class, but at the same time is forced by Entropy to also take up the Reaver class. Both of these grant Gilgamesh new skills and magical abilities. While resting at their meager camp, with the aid of Elwin¡¯s lockpicking skills and Gilgamesh¡¯s magic, they are able to fully remove their remaining bindings. Using his magic, Gilgamesh is also able to heal the scars of their slave brands, removing the last traces of their bondage. The next day, the group sees some smoke in the distance, and decide to go in that direction. While wandering under the trees of the Sainba, they are suddenly pelted by a rain of heavy Caru nuts. Elwin is knocked unconscious by one of the nuts, but Gilgamesh drags him to safety. Healing the knocked-out Rogue, the group finds shelter in the hollow of a giant tree. Gilgamesh awakens to find his arm being gnawed on by a Tree-Laur, a six-legged arboreal species that looks like a cross between a Terran warthog and a wolverine. Gilgamesh struggles against the creature and is saved by Elwin, who throws a dagger into its eye, killing it instantly. They turn the Tree-Laur into jerky and continue on their way, to the source of the smoke. Finally arriving at their destination, they find a camp of Charcoal Burners. They scout the camp. Desperate, Gilgamesh decides to launch an attack against them with the intent on killing them, to the man. Just as they are about to begin their assault, a group of Echo-Stalkers begin their own attack against the Charcoal Burners. However, hoping that the two sides would weaken one another, Gilgamesh continues with his plan and begins to attack. Between the two groups of humans, they are able to fend off the Echo-Stalkers. The leader of the Charcoal Burners offers them the hospitality of their camp, but Gilgamesh, fearing that they wanted nothing more than to take him back into slavery, stabs him through the neck, killing him. Gilgamesh¡¯s party then proceeds to swiftly kill the rest of them. They loot the camp, finding supplies, a few valuables, and weapons. More importantly, they are able to find new clothes to disguise themselves as something other than slaves. Gilgamesh is offered a claim to the Charcoal Burner¡¯s camp, Nyamdor¡¯s Hold, by the System of this world. Not wanting to be bogged down by managing a settlement, he rejects it. Better-equipped and supplied, the party decides that their best course of action would be to return to Ansan to find a caravan traveling away from the Grieving Lands. On their way to the city, they are accosted by a cruel group of mysterious Elves. The Elves leave them for dead, and it is only thanks to Gilgamesh¡¯s healing spells that they are able to survive. With heavy hearts at their near-brush with death, they succeed in bribing their way past the guards at the city gates. One of the guards advises them to stay at an inn called the Twisted Boar, advice that they decide to take. Gilgamesh, looking for a way to make some money, speaks to Athinad, the owner of the Twisted Boar. The innkeeper suggests that they might join the Adventurer¡¯s Guild in the city. During the night, whilst practicing his magic spell Drain on random passersby from the inn¡¯s window, Gilgamesh accidentally kills an unborn baby. After fencing their stolen goods, as a thanks for saving him, a drunken Elwin gifts Gilgamesh with a heavily-damaged book, which explains some aspects of magic. He then promptly falls asleep. Wanting some new equipment, they are advised to visit the Soot-Stained Pig by one of the Twisted Boar¡¯s patrons. Gilgamesh and Kidu decide to go there, while Elwin sells some of their more-valuable items at a fence. At the Soot-Stained Pig, they find a beautiful blacksmith, Cillis. After some bargaining, Gilgamesh and Kidu are outfitted with better armor and weapons. Gilgamesh chooses to buy a Tsengelt-tum, a hybrid weapon that can be used as both a mace and a flail. As part of the deal, Cillis agrees to teach him in its use. Although married, Cillis is a rather free-spirited woman and starts to kiss him. They are interrupted by her husband Khisam. Gilgamesh and Kidu leave the Soot-Stained Pig to purchase a bow for Kidu. After buying Kidu a new longbow at the market square, Gilgamesh sees the jail where he had been incarcerated by the Children of Tides before. Spying a guard retching in a nearby alleyway, he walks up to him and casually murders him. Kidu, who has sworn vengeance against all of the Children of Tides, praises him for this deed. Walking away from the scene of the crime, they lose themselves in the flow of the crowd and find themselves at Ansarai¡¯s fighting pit. Here, Gilgamesh discovers that he can use the Identify spell to gauge the relative strengths of the fighters. The next fight is between a human and the favorite, an orc. He realizes the fight is a setup, and places a bet on the human, Vidone, against the orc. He wins the bet and is rewarded with a considerable amount of money. On the way back to the inn, they accidentally bump into a nobleman and his escort. The nobleman¡¯s wife looks at Gilgamesh in shock, a shock Gilgamesh attributes at first to his impertinence at delaying her progress. They reunite with Elwin at the inn. They decide that they need a more reliable and steady source of income to get enough money, so they decide to join the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Feeling confident that things are going well, Gilgamesh goes to the Soot-Stained Pig to meet Cillis thinking that they share a mutual connection. He is rejected by her. The next day, they go to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild to register. They meet Darcen Tsend, the Guildmaster, who inducts them into the Guild and makes them touch the Bonding Crystal and swear the Adventurer¡¯s Guild oath. ¡°To do your very best to always uphold the reputation of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild,¡± are the simple words of the oath. After registration, Gilgamesh reads the job board at the Guild. This triggers a quest to warn the Guild of the Echo-Stalker¡¯s nest. Feeling that the quest aligned with his current goals, he accepts the quest and informs Taciano, one of the Guild clerks. Taciano also suggests that they buy some potions and gives them directions to a local Alchemist¡¯s. While they wait for the Guild to confirm the legitimacy of their information, Gilgamesh and company decide to take up three other requests: to collect some Moon Moss; to gather some River Root; and to acquire three River Lurker hides in the Sainba Forest. Their business concluded, the three of them leave the Guild and head off to the Alchemist¡¯s. Here they meet Hamsa, owner of Hamsa¡¯s Wondrous Apothecary. After some negotiation, Gilgamesh is able to get a discount from Hamsa, in exchange for promising to get the Alchemist some Broomshead mushrooms. On the way back to the Twisted Boar, Gilgamesh sees a very large donkey with a lame leg being led to the butcher¡¯s block. Seemingly against all reason, Gilgamesh purchases the donkey at a very steep discount. After returning to the inn, he uses Greater Heal on the donkey, healing its leg. Gilgamesh names the donkey Patches. Gilgamesh and his companions are now journeying to the Sainba Forest to fulfill their three requests from the Adventurer¡¯s Guild¡­ Book 2: A Jaunt Through the Woods* Within the Sainba Forest, a myriad of flora and fauna flourishes, captivating the attention of those who delve into the alchemic arts. But to journey beneath the darkened canopy of the forest is to be tested, and to come to a deeper understanding of one''s place within the natural world. It is an experience of profound humility. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. Elwin died, then Kidu soon after, slain by my own hand. The wavy form of my dagger was bloody with their life essence, as a testament to my sins. Their deaths were the coin with which I could bargain for my heart¡¯s desire. Faltering for a moment, I snapped out of a vision that seemed far too real to be an idle thought or daydream. It was nearing noon, with the glorious sun high in the sky, a stark contrast to the earlier darkness I had experienced. Like pilgrims, my companions and I walked our first steps along the path of legend. And, like the heroes of old, I felt that we were answering the call to adventure. As we journeyed further away from Ansan, the Jewel of the Grieving Lands, the road eventually turned into a simple track of dirt, then finally into an animal trail as we came closer to the great Sainba Forest proper. Under the newfound leaves of my optimism lurked thoughts of my encounter with the wailing woman in Ansan. I focused my mind and made a mental list. Essentially, we had four objectives, three of which were to find River Root and Moon Moss for the Guild, and to gather some Broomshead mushrooms for the eccentric alchemist Hamsa. Finally, we had to slay some fearsome River Lurkers to harvest their hides. A romantic part of me, which had followed me from adolescence, forgot about the rather pedestrian request to gather herbs, and envisioned us accomplishing awesome deeds and vanquishing terrible foes. I wasn¡¯t particularly looking forward to engaging the terrifying lizards in close quarters, so I would probably rely on my magic and Kidu¡¯s longbow to do most of the damage. The throwing knives at my waist probably wouldn¡¯t even irritate the beasts, and I resolved to buy myself a more-powerful ranged weapon. Sighing, I wish I could have afforded that exotic crossbow from the market. Just before we entered the Sainba proper, we paused for Kidu to string his massive longbow. Even for the giant, it proved a difficult task and he was red in the face when he finished. The poundage on the bow must have been phenomenal and the string tougher than wired steel. The merchant did, after all, describe the string as spider silk from this very forest, and I prayed in my heart that they were not of the giant variety. Once more under the dense boughs of the giant trees, I could feel some sort of energy, or electricity, in the air, like the portentous pressure before a wild storm. Kidu led us now, the wild calls of the animals and birds banishing the last echoes of civilization, as we ventured deep into the dark forest. Elwin was constantly scanning the greenery, his keen eyes looking for the moss that apparently grew on the bark of the giant trees as he took a position at our rear. I led our new donkey, Patches, gently at the center of our small formation. So affectionate was the intelligent donkey that I doubted I truly needed the new leather harness. In all honesty, I felt a little useless, as I had almost no knowledge of any applicable bushcraft skills. Tapping the large man on the shoulder and raising my hand for Elwin, I called for a pause as I checked my Status. I knew well from experience that the great Sainba Forest was as wild and as dangerous as it was beautiful and mysterious.
Health: 230/230 Stamina: 49/55 Mana: 6/15
Even as heavily-armored as I was, my Stamina was in a good place and I didn¡¯t feel overly encumbered in my gear. I surmised that this was probably due to my higher Constitution, Strength, and Heavy Armor skill. However, with my Mana at just over a third, I was sorely tempted to drink my expensive Mana potion, when a flash of inspiration hit me. If my Drain spell worked on living things, then it stood to reason that it would also work on the giant trees that surrounded us. Elwin, as always, was glad for the short rest and gratefully flopped down onto the forest floor. Kidu continued to look around, remembering to search upward as well for threats among the viridian vegetation. I locked eyes with Kidu and a silent communication passed between us. Nodding to me, he unslung his bow and drew an arrow fletched in black feathers from the quiver at his side. Focusing on the dark energy that had grown in the depths of my soul, I silently drew upon the power of the vampiric spell Drain and targeted the nearest giant of a tree. Dark tendrils and threads of midnight latched hungrily across its mighty trunk, passing through the bark and searching for life energies. Instantly I felt invigorated, as the black threads began to pump vital energy into me, and I delighted in the sensation. However, it felt different, the stolen song had a subtly different meter and pitch. My Mana steadily rose and, wishing to accelerate the process, I began to cast another Drain spell on a different tree, whose mighty branches reached up into the heavens. I exulted in the heady feeling of power that was flowing through me. My Mana rose steadily, then accelerated as the spell siphoned even more vital energy to me. Like a conductor orchestrating a symphony, I waved the thin threads of darkness this way and that, latching them onto new trees before I cast Entropic Aura as an experiment. A pulse of entropic darkness all but exploded from me, causing the vegetation to wilt and droop slightly as the dark waves pulsed. Out of the corner of one eye, I could see that the dark energies passed harmlessly through my companions and their possessions, and I reveled in my mastery. Sure enough, the threads that were attached to the trees within the Aura pulsed thicker. Within the bounds of the spell, the rate of energy pumping into me was increased and the sibilant dark whispers grew more jubilant. Kidu remained at a guard position to protect me, keeping watch for anything that could disturb my arcane ritual. Within minutes, instead of hours, my Mana had risen to thirteen points, so I reined in my magic as if it were an unruly hound. I gave Kidu a nod, and we recommenced our journey. I was surrounded by living batteries of delectable power. I was rewarded for this new discovery with a new level in my Drain spell and ten points of experience that put me tantalizingly close to level eleven. I itched to kill something, just to get that last bit of experience. I joined my companions in scanning the forest, although for a much different reason - to look for something to kill. ***** We plowed on through the forest for another hour or so, the animals and the birds becoming a little quieter around us. I could feel Patches growing more tense, though this didn¡¯t stop her from occasionally nibbling on some of the plants we passed. Suddenly, at the edge of the clearing, Kidu called for a halt with a raise of his hand. ¡°Karilla,¡± said the big man in a hushed voice, pointing to a great lizard basking in the sun on a mound of rotting vegetation. The animal, at first glance, resembled a Dimetrodon, a creature from Earth¡¯s ancient past, with fern-green scales that matched the viridian hue of the forest. But it had six legs, like a lot of the fauna of this world. The fearsome creature was about five meters from the curled tip of its tail to its brutish head. Refracting scintillating halos of light across the clearing, a large multi-colored sail ran across its spine. From its stubby head, two large fangs grew from a slight overbite, and a single long horn, perhaps half a meter, erupted from between its closed eyes. The creature¡¯s six short legs were powerfully built, and each limb had sharp claws that looked like they could easily rend and tear flesh. At its throat lay a bulging large red sac that pulsed with every breath. Perhaps, if I wasn¡¯t so close to gaining a level, I would have chosen to simply avoid the creature, but I could barely control my lust to get some more experience. Something drove me towards conflict. ¡°If the creature is still basking, then it must be sluggish and vulnerable right now,¡± I whispered to my companions, looking them each in the eye. In my mind, I was already gambling that the biology of cold-blooded creatures in this world functioned the same as in my old one. ¡°Also, I don¡¯t want to waste precious daylight circling around its territory. How dangerous are these creatures?¡± I nervously inquired, losing a little of my confidence with every passing second. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± Elwin stuttered, almost coughing in surprise at my audacity. Kidu and I both looked at the Rogue, then back at the Karilla. ¡°Acid can be a problem. I suggest that we take it from afar. I can hit its acid sac, which will do grave damage, and it is said that hotlander alchemists pay a fine price for it,¡± mused Kidu, who was now seriously thinking about taking down the monstrous reptile and adding another notch to his belt. The man had a dangerous obsession with finding, and hunting down, worthy prey. ¡°You are all crazy¡ªjust look at that thing! I thought we were all here just to pick a few plants!¡± exclaimed the Rogue shrilly. ¡°Stay back, Kidu and I will handle this. Help out if things get a little hairy,¡± I commanded, a certain edge of annoyance entering my voice. ¡°Kidu, shoot for the throat if the beast stirs,¡± I ordered, the voice of command coming surprisingly naturally to me. As I put the visor of my helm down, my world reduced to a narrow slit of vision, and I began casting. The magic of Entropic Aura pulsed with a wave of black-laced and gray-flecked energy, with me at its epicenter. Experimentally, I silently cast Decay on the fearsome creature. An oily sensation filled the pit of my stomach as I completed the spell, but only a few of the dark tendrils were able to attach themselves to its sleeping form, almost as if the creature was resisting. With plenty of Mana left, I cast Drain on the creature, to hopefully weaken it further. Sure enough, the gossamer-thin strands of midnight energy eagerly sought the beast¡¯s life force and began transferring it to me. For good measure, I also cast Drain on two of the gigantic trees near me. The confluence of incoming power was a narcotic rush that I had to push down with an effort of will. As my Stamina and Mana began to climb higher and higher, the voices within me exalted. The lizard was still asleep, the thick scales along its belly rising and falling with every breath. The creature began to stir a little and started whisking its tail slightly in irritation. Then it opened its mouth in a mighty yawn, displaying a row of jagged teeth. The sail on its back shifted, and rainbow hues of light filled the clearing as it settled back down to rest. Kidu had his bow at the ready, his shield glove holding the strong supple wood, a deadly arrow knocked on the string, ready to be shot at a moment''s notice. The large man looked at me for further instruction but I held up a hand, willing him to wait as my magic continued to take its toll. Turning around, I glanced at Elwin, who looked increasingly nervous under his hood as he gripped Patches¡¯ harness. With my Mana going up, I decided to sate my curiosity by casting Identify on the creature to measure its potential threat.
Karilla - [Great Lizard lvl.12]
Health: 287/336 Stamina: 48/65 Mana: 0/2
Good, my magic was steadily weakening the creature, I thought to myself. The creature did not even seem to be stirring to wakefulness, just continually basking in the sun. I posited to myself that the low Mana of the creature must be representative of its general intelligence. I realized now that fighting a creature such as this head-on would have almost been tantamount to suicide. Its higher level and impressive physical attributes, coupled with its thick armor and sharp natural weapons, would have been a grave threat to my party. Luckily, however, we had magic on our side and also, it seemed, time as well. The longer it took for the creature to realize what was causing it harm, the greater advantage we would enjoy. For several minutes my dark magic continued to leech the vital force out of the huge basking lizard, and soon enough my Mana reached a healthy ten points. Suddenly, a colorful bird atop a branch above and behind Elwin made a raucous call that caused him to jump in quick surprise. This sudden motion then caused Patches to release a loud panicked bray that resounded through the clearing, scattering a flock of pink-colored birds from their afternoon perch. Gradually, like the inevitable tides, the Karilla opened one heavily-lidded eye. The reptile¡¯s eye was a menacing yellow orb that revealed a pupil that was a thin black slit running down its center. Although weakened, it still got up to its feet and cried a bestial roar that caused the rest of the wildlife in the near vicinity to flee in a panicked explosion. Patches was visibly disturbed now and, ears flattened, she began braying loudly, forcing Elwin to lead her back away from the clearing. Suddenly, without warning, there was a whistling sound, and an arrow sprouted from the Karilla¡¯s throat sac. The scarlet bulge exploded, spraying green acid across the forest floor, the corrosive liquid hissing violently as it ate away at the ground. Planting his feet firmly, Kidu drew his longbow and launched a second missile at the giant lizard¡¯s eye, but it was deflected by a horned ridge as the creature finally turned in our direction. Realizing that our group was the threat, the ferocious creature lowered its head and aimed its long, brutal-looking horn at us, before starting to charge at us with surprising speed, green acid still leaking from its injured throat. In a valiant show of martial skill, Kidu shot another arrow that scored a light furrow along its snout, bloodying its nose. The animal shook its head in pain and confusion. Showing bravery I never knew I had, I charged the creature and launched a Power Strike at the lizard¡¯s scaly head. That I was flying into danger was forgotten in the heat of the moment, as the dark whispers urged me on to greater heights of violence. Half-stunned by the impact, the Karilla was unable to dodge the next attack. The blow drew a dark arc before the ¡°mace¡± part of my flail squarely hit the side of its skull in an explosion of loose scales and blood. The striking head of the flail wrapped under its snout and struck its lower jaw with the deadly spiked head. The terrifying beast was tough, however, and simply refused to die. It reflexively turned around to swish its long supple tail in my direction, sweeping me clean off my feet as it impacted my kite shield. I felt no pain, but I still took minor damage to my health. The psychological impact was, however, immense, and I suddenly grew fearful. The last vestiges of my earlier confidence left me as I desperately scrambled up to my feet, forced to pit myself against the raw strength of the scaled monster. The creature, however, in its stupidity, did not press the advantage and, instead, charged after Kidu, who shouldered his bow, drew his boar spear and braced himself to receive its charge. Surely enough, the creature impaled itself upon Kidu¡¯s spear, the winged lugs of the weapon preventing the Karilla from running up the shaft and reaching the massive Hunter. Its struggles to rend and tear the large man only served to widen its own wounds. In a whirl of motion, from a significant distance away, Elwin let loose a volley of four knives that fanned out and impacted all along the Karilla¡¯s flanks and sides, but they did not penetrate deeply. Inspired by this, I hooked my flail back to my belt and drew two throwing knives with my gauntleted left hand. I held both knives in the same hand, the handles of both weapons touching each other, the blades at the opposite ends of my hand. I then threw the knives in quick succession, first with an overhand throw, and the next with a flick of the wrist, underhand, at the center mass of the large creature. After initiating the skill in my mind, my Stamina was drained suddenly by five points. Although my blades embedded themselves into the natural armor across the lizard¡¯s back, I doubted they did any noticeable damage. The Karilla was beginning to weaken now, with the accumulation of all the minor wounds and the damage it was inflicting on itself by trying to reach the wildman as he slowly retreated. My magic, too, was taking its toll. Bolstered by my Entropic Aura, the tendrils of my Decay spell grew thicker as they attacked the areas around its open wounds, causing the faint smell of rot to cloud the air. All the while, my Drain spell continued to energize me as it leached away at the Karilla¡¯s life and restored my Health. Despite this, Kidu was getting pushed back by the raw strength and weight of the animal. His face was a picture of desperate exhaustion as he grudgingly gave ground, playing for time and forcing the creature to expend even more of its Strength in the contest. It was all too much for the monster. After a few more seconds, Kidu, with impressive innate skill, sensed that the monster had been weakened enough. He ripped out his spear with a splurt of arterial blood, and stabbed it cleanly through one of its eyes. The maw of the great lizard gave out a muffled sigh as the rest of its body finally realized that it was dead, though its tail still twitched in denial. I quickly dispelled all of my magic, not wanting to damage the remains of the creature, as I was met with more notifications from my UI.
You have slain a Karilla 30 experience gained. You have gained 1 Strength. You have gained 1 Dexterity. You have learned Medium Armor (lvl.2) You have learned Heavy Armor (lvl.3) You have learned Maces (lvl.2) You have learned Silent Casting (lvl.2) You have learned Double Throw (lvl.1) You have reached level 11. 3 unassigned attribute points. 1 unassigned skill point.
Book 2: A Nice Meal [Part 1] May the eyes of the hallowed gods lay lightly upon you. - The traditional welcome of the city of Al-Lazar. Raising the visor of my helmet, I drew in a deep lungful of air. The slight notes of rot and metallic copper wafting up made me wince at the stains that adorned my cheap robe. Almost instantly, the countdown to assign my points began and I put all of my attribute points into Constitution, and my new skill point into Drain. The spell was a good choice, I decided, as it both healed me and could also be used offensively. Also, if I was being completely honest with myself, it was pleasant to use, save for the rasping sibilant voices that always accompanied its cast, promising unspeakable things. The spell would have to do as a substitute for a good coffee. As the adrenaline left my system, I slumped heavily onto the forest floor as Kidu began butchering the Karilla. Patches began to nuzzle my face as I brought myself back to some semblance of mental order. Interesting, I thought between labored breaths, my little twist on throwing knives was recognized by this world as a sort of special combat skill and cost Stamina to use. Perhaps I could learn other skills by experimenting in a similar fashion? Not caring to look at the bloody work in progress, I took the moment to relieve myself behind a tree, making sure to wash my hands with a little water from my drinking flask. Leaning against the tree, I took a moment just for myself as a fragment of mental respite. Regaining some semblance of forced calm, I checked over my gear, noting that the boss of my shield was dented a little from my encounter, before rejoining my companions. The donkey looked forlornly at me as Kidu continued with his messy work, while Elwin was searching the clearing for something. I patted Patches¡¯ head affectionately and fed her a carrot from the bag. She displayed her great appreciation by braying loudly. ¡°Got some!¡± Elwin shouted, which caused Kidu to pause for a moment from his butchery. Wending my way over to Elwin, I looked to where the Rogue was enthusiastically pointing. Near where the Karilla had been basking were several clumps of silvery-blue moss. ¡°Moon Moss, and a lot of it! We¡¯ve got Hell¡¯s own luck, we do!¡± Elwin shouted, his voice going up by an octave, as he began scraping it off the bark of a fallen tree. I joined him in his labor, and together we stripped off as much of the visible moss as possible. Even though my hands were covered with the thick leather of my gloves, I could feel a tingle every time I gathered up the strange plant. It was a strange sensation, though not particularly unpleasant, and I guessed that this was probably due to the moss being magical in nature. Perhaps the moss was the very reason that the Karilla had chosen this clearing for part of its territory? Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Butchering the creature and gathering up all the moss from the clearing took the better part of an hour-and-a-half. I contributed by patrolling the clearing and encountered a trio of jackal-like creatures who were drawn to the scent of freshly-spilled blood. Their fur was a dull brown, with soft gray spots that broke up their outline. Close to our recent kill, their tongues lolled in anticipation and hunger and they barked a warning at me. Leaving my visor raised, I did not break eye contact and cast Entropic Aura. The invisible dark waves of the spell flowed over and through the beasts. Sensing that something was amiss, the trio quickly whined and yelped. They soon turned tail and fled towards the depths of the forest. Sighing in mild disappointment, I brought the dark energies back inward and ended the spell. Returning to my companions, I saw that they had reduced the Karilla to bloody chunks of meat, bone, claws, teeth, and hide, all of which were neatly stacked into piles. Despite having eaten earlier in the day, the smell of cooking meat on an open fire caused my stomach to rumble with hunger. Elwin was cooking three large chunks of meat on the open flame, occasionally adding salt and spices. I sat down next to my companions and waited for the meat to finish cooking, while Kidu finished off his last few chores. In good time, the meat was cooked to perfection and tasted like a mix of beef and chicken. It was grilled beautifully on the outside and seasoned well with hot spices, adding a delightful kick to the meal. My companions all tore into the delicious meat, not caring much for table manners out here in the wilderness. ¡°Karilla makes for good eating,¡± Kidu stated bluntly, which drew a laugh from Elwin and me. ¡°I must say, well-fought everyone! To more victories to come,¡± I said as I raised my canteen in cheer, washing out the last taste of Karilla from my palette. The toast was taken as a signal to move, and my companions started to break camp. Leaving behind the offal to rot in the clearing, they loaded up a worried-looking Patches with the spoils of our latest encounter. Kidu once again led the van of our formation, and in my estimation, he was leading us in the direction of the river that we had crossed in our hurried escape from the mines. Sneaking back a look at the clearing, I saw the earlier trio of jackal-like creatures barking with glee and tearing into the offal, bones, and other parts of the Karilla that we had no use for. On a whim, I silently cast Identify on one of the scavengers. I believed that the spell completed a little faster despite my heavy armor.
Spotted Uakari - (Lesser Canid lvl.7)
Health: 73/80 Stamina: 30/35 Mana: 4/4
I viewed the canids as little threat to my party, despite Patches¡¯ braying in anger at the small creatures. Pulling the donkey by the harness, I finally convinced the stubborn creature to continue by feeding her another carrot, which she chomped on angrily, narrowly missing one of my fingers. Book 2: A Nice Meal [Part 2] We were following a beast trail now, the forest growing steadily darker as less and less sunlight filtered down through the higher branches of the canopy. Strange gliding lizards flitted from branch to branch above us, gulping down colorful buzzing insects. As we marched along the forest floor, Elwin donned a small iron pot helm from one of Patches¡¯ bags. He tightened the leather straps around his chin as he looked cautiously above, almost tripping on a tree root as he did so. After an indeterminable amount of time in the eternal gloom of the Sainba, we came across a recently-fallen giant of a tree blocking the trail. The leaves of its branches were still green and only half of its roots had been uprooted, creating a split down its otherwise solid trunk. Kidu ushered for us to check its upturned roots, remembering the alchemist¡¯s instructions, and sure enough, exposed to the air were growths of hairy mushrooms that resembled a broom¡¯s head. Holding pieces of cloth to their mouths, Elwin and Kidu began harvesting the fungi. They quickly stuffed all the mushrooms within arm¡¯s length into their bags, while Kidu was playfully mocking Elwin for being lazy. I told them that we would need to leave some space in our collective packs for River Root and Lurker hide, so they hurriedly finished their gathering. Once more, we made our way around the fallen behemoth of a tree and off in the direction, according to Kidu, of the river. Our party continued to make good progress through the depths of the Sainba, but eventually, Elwin began to flag and called out to us. ¡°Enough! We shouldn¡¯t go on anymore. By my reckoning, it will be nightfall soon and we should find a place to make camp,¡± the Rogue exclaimed, hands on his knees in exhaustion. Kidu snapped from his reverie, as going through the forest had an almost meditative effect on him, acknowledged Tucker¡¯s suggestion and led us off the trail. I had more than enough energy to go on, but not enough mental energy to argue. Shrugging internally, I followed the Hunter. One foot forward, then the next, brushing away any vegetation, scanning for threats, all done almost without a thought. My behavior was now an ingrained subconscious repetition. Eventually, the Hunter led us to yet another giant, this time the venerable colossus of a tree was surrounded by growths of one of my favorite plants. Snap-Honey plants ringed the tree, growing along its trunk and sprawling over its exposed roots like Venusian jade sentinels. This variant of the carnivorous plant had pink maws that were lined with sharp spiky yellow ¡®teeth¡¯. A dark maw opened at the base of the tree¡¯s trunk, hollow and promising shelter for the night. Kidu didn¡¯t even bother with his earlier trick of triggering the biting heads by throwing a small stick at them. He merely waded in among them, his spear hewing away at the plants and leaving behind a clear path for us to follow. Occasionally a Snap-Honey would weave its way through his guard of flashing steel only to bite ineffectively against his armor. As soon as a plant head latched onto him, he swiftly tore it off, hardly missing a beat. We followed in his impressive wake of destruction until we made it to the tree¡¯s hollow. It took a little persuasion to make our donkey enter the hollow of the tree, but once I soothed her with some sweet reassurances she willingly went inside. Once inside, having torn off the spiky ¡®teeth¡¯, I fed my faithful beast a whole Snap-Honey head. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Immediately my companions began to make camp, with Elwin collecting the fallen Snap-Honey heads and Kidu gathering up fallen dry branches. Somewhere along the way, the Rogue must have acquired some flint. He struck one of his knives against a dark gray stone to start a fire. Once the merry blaze had been started, Elwin and I took off Patches¡¯ saddlebags and brushed her down, which she thoroughly enjoyed. Kidu was sprinkling salt on some Karilla flesh, wrapping the meat in the heads of the Snap-Honey before placing them on the open flames. The flames caused the plant heads to shrivel and cling closely to the meat, and a pungent, heady aroma filled the air. My mouth began to water in anticipation of the evening¡¯s meal. Soon enough, the darkness grew as we sat around the solitary fire, which was causing dancing orange and red flames to throw strange shadows into the forest. Patches, in a moment of intelligence that surprised us all, went out of the tree''s hollow, and away from our campfire, to relieve herself. To all of our amusement, she gave us a ¡®look¡¯ before returning to the safety of the hollow of the giant tree. ¡°You know what? That¡¯s one remarkable donkey,¡± jibed Elwin, clearly amused. ¡°The trained beasts of my clan do similar,¡± said Kidu, trying to not look impressed, fondness nonetheless entering his voice. ¡°She is great! I wonder if my magic did more than just heal her?¡± I asked, which just drew a few noncommittal or ignorant shrugs. ¡°Ahh, anyways, I think our meal is ready! Aha, dinner is served!¡± Exclaimed Elwin as he pulled a delicious parcel delicately out of the fire and began blowing on it to cool it down. Kidu used a stick to stab through a parcel of salted Karilla meat wrapped in Snap-Honey head, and waited for it to cool naturally. I followed suit and, after a short while, judging that my meal was cool enough, I bit into it. An orchestrated explosion of flavor filled my mouth. The lizard meat was salted to perfection and the added sweetness of the Snap-Honey enhanced all of the flavors. Taking off my gloves, I gobbled up the rest of my portion and greedily began on seconds, savoring the honey aftertaste. Once I had finished, I washed my hands with some water. Kidu had promised that we would make the river tomorrow, so saving water was of little concern to us. My companions went about their tasks for the night, checking their equipment and gathering firewood and a dozen other chores that camping required. Sure that I would be of little assistance, I did not offer them help. Instead, I volunteered for the first and second watch. Once they had finished, we talked of matters of little import. Soon enough, Kidu and Elwin, exhausted after the day''s exertions, retired for the evening. At the start of my watch, I cast the dark spell Drain on a giant of a tree at the edge of my magic¡¯s range. I did this to keep my senses keen, the strengthened spell siphoning energy quicker than before. Alone with my thoughts and the pleasant sensation of my magic, I focused on filtering out the voices that promised unspeakable things. The voices were not the sign of madness¡ªnot quite. Or maybe they were, but I had grown so used to them that I no longer recognized the stain of insanity. Still, if madness was the price of survival, and with it greater power, then it was a price that I would gladly pay. Arranging my thoughts like soldiers before a march, I had a chance to truly think about my next move as darkness stole over the Sainba Forest. As I grew in power, so too did I grow in the agency of my choices. The quest messages still puzzled and worried me. Was it a measure of some divine will that drove them, that provided structure to my experience? Or were the messages part of a game where the wagers were paid in blood and pain? Or, was it my own will and actions that influenced the quests? My mind continued to ponder these thoughts long into the night, going around and around in convoluted, abstract circles. My mind settled on the memory of the woman who was connected to Jongshoi, my first human kill in this land. I concluded from her age that she was probably his now-bereaved mother. What possible vengeance was the harpy planning? A touch on my shoulder broke me out of these thoughts, Elwin¡¯s mischievous smile snapping me back to the here and now. Gratefully. I unrolled my bedroll and, still in the protection of my armor, rested for the night. Book 2: Preparation [Part 1] In the realm of the sword, where life and death dance upon the edge of a blade, hesitation is the birthplace of failure. The path of the sword demands swift action, for in the heat of battle, a single moment''s pause can be the difference between victory and demise. Just as water flows unhindered, so must the warrior''s mind be unshackled from the chains of doubt. As the sword moves effortlessly through the air, the spirit must mirror this fluidity. In this way, success can be attained through harmony between body and spirit, for when these two elements become one, the warrior has attained the Living Sword. - The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus circa 520 AC. I awoke well before the darkness of the night gave way to the simple grays of the cool forest morning. What little light that filtered through the branches was a poor facsimile for true daylight. Kidu and Elwin had already started to break camp as I awoke from my bedroll. My body, as I got up, was initially stiff due to sleeping in an uncomfortable position in full battle dress. ¡°Morning there, sleepyhead,¡± chirped Elwin. His morning energy grated a little against my nerves. It was far too early in the day for me to fake the usual pleasantries. Looking at him through sleepy eyes and unkempt hair, I grunted before mumbling a semblance of good morning to both members of my party. Kidu was already seeing to Patches, checking various straps and feeding her a bag full of grain and oats, supplemented with slightly shriveled heads of Snap-Honey. ¡°We will make quick progress today, I think. Ah, what a boon you are! This creature is most useful,¡± Kidu exclaimed, ruffling Patches¡¯ mane, causing her to bray in affection. ¡°Yes, I was fortunate to find her when I did. With her to carry our things, we should be able to travel a little faster. And, the quicker we travel, the quicker we collect the River Root and Lurker hide. Then the faster we can return and collect our due coin,¡± I replied, slowly getting up to my feet. Elwin then resignedly saw to my bedroll. ¡°Right noisy lad you are, mumbling all the time you were asleep, you know,¡± stated Elwin as he finished packing my bedroll. Once done, he loaded it up onto Patches, alongside the heavy rolled-up hide of the Karilla. I took a swill of some water and began to eat some Laur-jerky, feeling inexplicably manlier as I chewed on the tough, dry meat. It was easy going as we moved from the campsite along the path carved out the previous night by Kidu¡¯s flashing spear. I was fully refreshed, so I found the going easier, with my armor feeling more comfortable about my frame. Also, just as Kidu predicted, we made good time through the trees. Eventually, the giants gave way to normal-sized trees and, as daylight filtered down even more strongly, the sound of running water could be heard in the distance. Unconsciously, my companions and I picked up our pace, eager to finish off our mission in the great forest. In due course, we sighted the rapidly-flowing river, and we began to be more cautious in our approach as we neared the possible location of the River Root and Lurkers. The Hunter tested the wind and then crouched low while he made his way through the undergrowth, after signaling for us to stop. A slight breeze was blowing in my face and, squinting my eyes, I could just make out what looked like a collection of wide, almost unmoving, leafy green plates on the surface of the swift water. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. My interest was piqued, and I hissed to my companions in a quiet voice, ¡°That the River Root we seek?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± they both said at almost the same time, giving each other a look before Elwin allowed Kidu to explain, ¡°That is the River Root, but we must harvest the roots at the bottom of the river. The river runs quickly but, luckily, it is shallow here, I am sure. Also, look there,¡± said the Hunter, pointing at what looked like logs in the water along the shore, before continuing, ¡°A bask of young male River Lurkers have made this their gathering. We are lucky that a grandfather of the water is not with them.¡± Just then, one of the ¡°logs¡± opened its mouth in a great yawn, displaying a shocking array of yellowed, sharp teeth. Elwin visibly paled at the sight and he nervously adjusted the strap of his cheap pot helm. Intrigued, I decided to cast an Identify at the logs, hoping to gauge a measure of our upcoming challenge.
River Lurker - (Lizard lvl.8)
Health: 146/148 Stamina: 42/44 Mana: 3/3
I surmised that the creatures before me were reasonably tough and strong, from their corresponding Health and Stamina. Predictably, being reptilian, their abysmally-low Mana was a good indication that they were of a lesser intellect. Idly, I wondered if and when my Identify spell would improve. ¡°How should we go about this business?¡± I asked them as I searched their faces for their reactions, trying to hide a smile as confidence filled me. ¡°We need to fight them one at a time, or at least in smaller groups. It would be a quick death if we fought them in the water. We must lure them out and fight them deeper on land. My bow should lead the way,¡± offered Kidu. I looked to Elwin in case he had anything to add. The Rogue just flippantly shrugged his shoulders and commented, ¡°We¡¯ve come this far, loons that we are¡ªsure, why not? Let¡¯s go stir up a gathering of River Lurkers, run around, and have the big man shoot at them.¡± Looking at my companions in turn, I tapped into a little of my newfound bravery. Our victory against the Karilla buoyed my confidence and lent authority to my voice as I outlined our objectives, ¡°To gather the River Root, we will need to kill all of the River Lurkers within the vicinity. We will lure them one or two at a time, with Kidu¡¯s bow,¡± this drew a grunt of approval from the wildman before I continued, ¡°into the range of my magic. Then I will do my best to weaken them as much as possible before we finish them up close. Once engaged in the melee, I will try to keep their attention, and while they are focused on me, the pair of you will attack their flanks.¡± Elwin looked nervous before he questioned my plan, ¡°And what happens if we draw more than one of their numbers? Like the whole bloody gathering of hungry monsters!?¡±, he said, a certain shrill tone entering his voice. ¡°Then we will run into the forest. The undergrowth will slow them down, and if the white winds come, then we climb the trees,¡± answered the big man, with notes of amusement winding their way through his delivery. I placed a hand on Elwin¡¯s shoulder, seeking to add a measure of comfort and stiffen the Rogue¡¯s backbone a little. ¡°We will decide upon a rallying point in case we are forced to retreat. Have no fear, Mr. Tucker. We have come so far, and just think of the rewards when we finish this simple job.¡± I added, and the worry lines on his face faded a little. His concerns were temporarily assuaged. ¡°I guess you¡¯re right. Came this far already. Just a few big lizards between me and a delicious warm meal, a warm bed, and perhaps a warm woman,¡± he said, trying to convince himself, as he bowed to our peer pressure before concluding, ¡°I am still a little beat from all of this marching about the woods. I would suggest a rest before we take on these monsters.¡± ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more.¡± I nodded to him as I removed my hand from his shoulder but not before giving it a quick squeeze of reassurance. Elwin¡¯s consistent cowardice was slowly growing irksome. Book 2: Preparation [Part 2] In good time, we cut ourselves another path to a small clearing and then prepared the ground for tomorrow, scaring and intimidating the local wildlife. Kidu dug simple pitfalls in places, lining the bottom with sharpened stakes. I was constantly scanning the undergrowth for potential enemies, as my nerves were strung tight. Elwin was drafted to assist Kidu, constantly complaining that he would prefer to be on watch. With military precision, my companions set up camp for the night, almost silent in their preparations, only exchanging words when absolutely necessary. Feeling a little useless, I patrolled a good distance around our chosen campsite, my hand on the haft of my weapon, as twilight stole over the forest. I returned once they had set up a good-sized fire, its blaze providing true warmth and light as night proper claimed the forest. In time, the daytime calls and songs were replaced by the evening sounds of the forest. We gathered around the fire to confirm and discuss our plans for the next day. Our rallying point was to be a large tree, perhaps two hundred yards from the bank of the river, with easily-climbable branches. It would be easy to notice, as we had made a great many slashes about its trunk. The trees and undergrowth leading up to it, too, were slashed with our weapons, to be our guideposts in case of an ignominious retreat. Once again, I volunteered for the first two watches, as I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. To be honest, I really wanted the chance to experiment. My mind turned to the ridiculous situation that I found myself in. I had returned to the city where I had been enslaved, only to join a guild of Adventurers to get a measure of protection. Now I sought to earn a living by completing difficult and dangerous requests. A powerful noblewoman of the city was also somewhere out there, planning my demise, as was the way of the rich and the powerful. Looking at my predicament somewhat objectively, I had to fight from laughing in hysteria. The old me would have simply lacked the imagination to come up with such a ridiculous scenario, which was a far cry from my comfortable and safe old life. What surprised me was my own reserve of mental strength that came from overcoming adversity. The me of yesterday would have been wallowing in self-pity and ineffectually railing against the injustices of the world. In this rough and visceral world, I had to play the hand which I had been dealt. Perhaps it was this element of true struggle that had been missing from modern life - the razor path at the edge of the abyss that made everything more precious. I found that my life here, despite all the dangers and pain, was growing more real to me than the world I had left behind. These thoughts of the past spurred me to try and enter the meditative state that I had gained during my initial incarceration in Ansan. I was shocked as I found that memories of my past life, my past world, had grown distant. Details that were once so clear were still present, somewhere, but for the moment they were out of reach of my questing mind. Something smothered the shock of the discovery, a state of forgetfulness akin to acceptance. That world was a faraway place across the infinite reach of space and time. I would find no further gains in power from the memories of my previous life. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. My mind was brought jarringly to the present and I noticed that our campfire had dimmed a little. I quickly added some more fuel to the fire before settling down again to my watch. I experimented with the Drain spell against what I thought of as a ¡®normal¡¯ tree, but the mana gained from the unsuspecting flora was a mere pittance against the cost of the spell, so I quickly ended it. Like a faithful and eager hound, Entropic Aura came to the fore of my mind, begging to be used and unleashed, but I fought against the temptation. With nothing to do, and unsure of the passage of time, I patrolled around the clearing, making sure to stay in the range of the fire¡¯s light. I nearly panicked when a moth-like creature landed on my face, its ghost-white wings fluttering as I swiped at my helm, hands clanking against the visor. The creature settled on a nearby tree, its milky form contrasting with the darkness. In a flash of pettiness and annoyance, I threw two knives, using the Double-Throw skill, much more deftly than anticipated. One silvery blade missed, thudding into the tree, while the other sliced the creature across its thorax before embedding in the wood.
You have slain ??? 1 experience gained.
Barely worth the effort, I thought to myself, in great annoyance, as I retrieved my knives and checked the blades before placing them once more into their sheathes. Only a few more of those blighters to go before I reached my next level, I thought grimly, as I completed my circuit and returned to the camp proper. I sat at the fire before our donkey wandered over to my chosen spot and nuzzled my face, her equine eyes filled with affection. She settled down next to me, her body a barrier against the forest. Going through our general supplies, I found a sharpening stone and began the slow process of sharpening my knives. I found the uniform, steady motions relaxing, as the built-up stress of my many adventures were dealt with, one stroke at a time, to reach a razor finish. In due course, the looming figure of Kidu gruffly relieved me of my watch, sending me off, back to my bedroll. Eager to restore my lost Mana, Health, and Stamina, I fell into a troubled sleep filled with dark skittering things and a world that was once mine. Book 2: Culling [Part 1] Trust is the benefit of the doubt, and not just mere reassurance born from unwavering repetition. - A Quassian Aphorism. Rosy-fingered dawn was just starting to climb the morning sky when I awoke once more to another day. As was my habit, I checked my Status or ¡®character sheet¡¯, pleased that after my rest I was in peak condition. A minor annoyance was the list of skills and spells that seemed to be growing ever longer. Was there a way to filter out any of the extraneous information that cluttered my mind¡¯s eye? I imagined that a sibilant raspy voice almost mouthed a reluctant ¡®yes¡¯ in assent in the far corners of my mind.
[STATUS] Calling: Gilgamesh lvl.11 Paladin/Reaver
Strength: 25 Dexterity: 20 Constitution: 37 Intelligence: 21 Wisdom: 18 Charisma: 12 Luck: 17
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.2) Power Strike (lvl.2) 10 Endure (lvl.3) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.3) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.3) Polearms (lvl.2) Dual Wield (lvl.2) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) Mining (lvl.2) Unarmed Combat (lvl.3) Hammers (lvl.2) Flails (lvl.2) Maces (lvl.2) Shields (lvl.1) Medium Armor (lvl.2) Heavy Armor (lvl.3) Axes (lvl.1) Daggers (lvl.2) Throwing Weapons (lvl.2) Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Double-Throw (lvl.1) 5
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) 5 Rust (lvl.3) 2 Identify (lvl.2) 1 Silent Casting (lvl.2) Mana Regeneration (lvl.2) Purify (lvl.2) 3 Greater Heal (lvl.1) 10 Holy Aura (lvl.1) 2 Decay (lvl.1) 1 Drain (lvl.4) 2 Entropic Aura (lvl.2) 2
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy -20% to all starting attributes. Mark of the Paladin 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical. Touch of the Void 10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects.
Experience to next level 2613/3202
Health: 264/272 Stamina: 32/59 Mana: 10/15
I quickly dismissed this inner monologue, fearful that these thoughts may lead to even greater insanity. I looked across at my companions, finding them industriously going about their business and readying themselves for the coming conflict. Elwin was sharpening his knives, favoring the damask-etched blade that we had gained from the wholesale slaughter of the Charcoal Burners. My other boon companion, Kidu, was checking his arrows, looking for warps or flawed fletchings that would affect their flight. We cooked up a simple breakfast, a lightly-salted meat stew that I consumed with gusto. Ever since my time as a slave, food now held new importance in my life. Poor as I had been, worrying about starving was an alien concept. The significance of food and what it represented had changed on an intrinsic level. How truly sheltered my old life had been, I mused absent-mindedly. After breakfast, we continued with our preparations, seeing to the minutiae of maintenance of our arms and armor. I felt a growing pressure in the pit of my gut that demanded release and, recognizing it for what it was, I let it flow over and through me. It was anticipation mixed with trepidation, but they seemed like old friends now, their edges losing their sharpness when ground against raw experience. Our preparations now complete, we headed off in the direction of the river bank, eager to accomplish our mission. Every step through the forest to the river was accompanied by a heightened tension that brought our senses into sharp focus. Eventually, we could hear once more the sound of vigorously-running water, but threaded through the sounds were new notes. The wind softly whispered a sensation of danger, the hissing of ferocious reptile creatures driven to the heights of frenzy. Kidu signaled to us that we should move slower as we crept up to the edge of the trees and observed the scene before us. What bloomed before my eyes could truly be called a festival of bestial violence. Deep hisses of challenge ringed in the air as River Lurkers squabbled with each other over an animal they had recently brought down, which was now an unidentifiable large mound of meat, bone, and offal. The familiar smell of copper and iron tinged the air - the scent of freshly-spilled blood. Some of the creatures had wounded each other over the promise of warm meat, and great rents were torn into their thick, scaly hides. Out of the water, the creatures themselves reminded me of alligators or large crocodiles from Earth. Only, these specimens were more heavily-armored, with bony protrusions and small spikes running along their scaled hides. They each had three pairs of stumpy, muscular legs that had a surprisingly fast cadence, allowing them a good amount of speed on land. Their snouts, too, were shorter than an alligator¡¯s, and filled with sharp serrated teeth that promised death. Their clawed feet were webbed in the manner of aquatic creatures. The academic in me admired such a clear example of convergent evolution. Theorizing about killing these monsters was one thing, but witnessing them up close, as they tore into bloody flesh, made the whole thing seem an altogether different prospect. However, the Lurkers, preoccupied with what appeared to be a fresh kill, could prove advantageous. With these thoughts swirling in my mind, I turned to Kidu, my eyes seeking guidance. ¡°The feeding frenzy is upon them. Thankfully, we are downwind of the gathering. We should wait till they are sated; with fortune¡¯s favor, they will be in a stupor,¡± advised the man from the North, his steady rumbling voice lending a welcome assurance. ¡°Nothing has changed, except that we need to wait a little while. Let us retreat and pray that the wind does not change,¡± I concluded, looking at each of my companions in turn, and silenced the Rogue¡¯s protestations with a stern look. Elwin rolled his eyes before falling in line, muttering something under his breath, as my group retreated a bit further into the trees. I noticed that Patches was trembling, but she wasn¡¯t giving in to her fear. Most donkeys at this point would have likely fled in such proximity to the monstrously-large crocodilian analogs. A truly noble beast, I thought to myself, as we staked her down deep within the tree line. Book 2: Culling [Part 2] We waited until the sun dipped a little lower into the sky, and until the river monsters calmed down from their frenetic activities. Slowly, we crept up on them from our hiding place in the trees, as stealthily as our armor allowed. I looked to Elwin, then nodded to Kidu to begin. Gripping three arrows between the fingers of his bow hand, the massive man drew and let loose, in rapid succession, at the gathering of River Lurkers. The arrows flew steady and true, finding their way through the scaled throats and soft eyes of the lizards. Such was the force of the arrows that the smaller specimens were flipped over, their six legs flailing for a few seconds before death finally claimed them. The other creatures raised their heads, mouths opened and hissing threats, unsure from where death had come. I knew that the Comanche of old Earth could achieve similar feats, but Kidu accomplished all of this using a longbow, at full draw, making the display all the more heroic. Kidu let loose another arrow, then another, and another. Six beasts had been slain or mortally wounded by the master Hunter in short order before, finally, their cold lizard brains determined the source of the attack. They started to charge us then, the smaller juveniles putting out a burst of unexpected speed. The larger River Lurkers stirred themselves from the banks of the river and joined in the assault. Still, my group had planned for this. We slowly retreated back towards the treeline, Kidu shooting all the while and losing none of his precision, despite the pressure of the approaching scaled menaces. I unleashed my Entropic Aura now, holding nothing back. This forced them to almost stop in their tracks, and they started to circle us in the manner of wolves. The beasts seemed afraid to enter the radius of my dark energy, as if instinctively sensing the horror within. Another shaft buried itself through the neck of a River Lurker, which was like a signal to push them to breach the circle of my entropic defenses. Knowing full well now the range of my spells, I hurriedly cast Drain, my mind doing the necessary mental acrobatics as I channeled the dark energies. The voices sang with glee and satisfaction, as the tendrils of the deepest shadow attached themselves to several of the creatures. Raw life energy filled me with ecstasy, singing an empowering duet with the adrenaline that roared through my system. My mind narrowed in focus, wanting to unleash violence against the creatures, and I was more than willing to oblige. Filled with a feeling of invincibility, I slammed my visor down and charged the remaining animals, half-a-dozen or so, trusting in my companions to cover my blind spots. One of the creatures jumped to meet my charge. I met its leap with my kite shield, angling it slightly and bracing myself. Instead of being tackled to the ground, I was instead able to redirect the Lurker¡¯s trajectory, and the crocodilian rolled off of my shield. Another creature, seeing an opening, bit into my shin and calf. I could feel the metal of my armor straining against the steadily-increasing force of the bite, but still it held. Irritated, I looked down and smashed the end of my weapon¡¯s haft against its cranium, braining the creature with the flanges. The ball of the flail slammed harmlessly against the ground, causing clods of the soft earth to explode. How I had grown, I thought to myself, in the eye of the storm, smiling wryly in my heavy helm. I had grown powerful. I kicked another River Lurker, trusting in my armor to provide protection against tooth and claw. My strike momentarily stunned the beast, but another Lurker took the opportunity to launch itself at me. The heavy impact made me crash down to the floor as the reptilian beast snapped at my face, its claws raking at my armor. Panic started to fill me as I manically tried to brain the creature with the butt of my mace, but I lacked the leverage to inflict significant damage. A flash of adrenalin-fueled inspiration hit me, guiding me to let go of my primary weapon, and I quickly drew the dagger at my waist. The River Lurker bit into the edge of my shield and I stabbed out with my blade, infusing my attack with the skill Power Strike. The wavy blade struck into the reptile¡¯s eye in an explosion of viscera, putting the animal out of its misery. With a great effort, I shrugged the still-twitching corpse off me and rose to my feet. Sheathing my parrying dagger and picking up my flail, I realized that I was relying too much on brute physical force. I was more than just a simple fighter. Entropic energies continued to pulse from me and cold rage filled my heart. I felt detached now from the fight and I took a moment to steal a glance at my surroundings, searching for my companions. Of Elwin, there was no sign, but Kidu was fighting against a half-circle of Lurkers, keeping them at bay with long spinning circular strikes from his flashing spear. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I pushed the dark threads of the Drain spell outward to my enemies, the voices rising in delight. The dark lines of power were thicker now, and hungrily latched onto the monsters, flowing from one raving Lurker to another. My spell had grown in dread power, and apparently it had gained the ability to attach to several life sources in close proximity at once. Pleasure filled me, headier than any drug, and the desire to keep on killing guided my steps as I rushed to help my companion. I could feel my Health, Stamina, and Mana refilling as the creatures in front of me grew weaker. The rush of pleasure was tempered somewhat by my newfound and cold detachment, and a shard of worry filled me, as I still could not find Elwin. An errant thought, stained with paranoia, entered my mind: was the wiry Rogue planning betrayal after all? I quickly shrugged off this thought, feeling that it was caused by an external dark influence - a product of the voices that I harbored in the depths of my mind. A few moments later the Rogue plunged down from a tree, stabbing downwards with his twin daggers. Like a falling shadow, he stabbed into the eyes of a reptile that had snuck up behind Kidu. The man was a fleeting wisp as he weaved among the cold-blooded animals, striking at their unprotected flanks and vital points when he could. I sighed internally with relief; there would be no dagger in the back today. I began to lay into the River Lurkers, my flail spinning in deadly arcs as it impacted again and again into flesh and bone in an explosion of hard scales. Between the three of us, we quickly made short work of the remaining creatures of the group we had drawn out. I lifted my visor, drew a deep breath, and looked across at my party. They had not suffered any serious wounds, though Elwin was sporting a bright red cut across his left cheek. Kidu had barely broken a sweat, such was his prowess against the simple creatures. However, at a very rough guess, this was but one-third of their total number. Truly, this looked like it was going to be a bit of a grind. ¡°A good warm-up exercise,¡± snorted Kidu, as he checked over his spear and bow, his eyes roving for any recent battle damage. Elwin simply rolled his eyes at Kidu¡¯s bravado, before adding in a snide voice, ¡°Well at least I¡¯m not dead, though I don¡¯t fancy doing this many times on the regular.¡± He sniggered a little, as he retrieved one of his throwing daggers from a still corpse. I could not help but smile as the notification messages filled my inner vision. Our little battle with the local wildlife had been rather rewarding.
You have slain six River Lurkers 65 experience gained. You have gained 1 Strength. You have learned Daggers (lvl.3) You have learned Shields (lvl.2)
Experience to next level 2678/3202
Health: 254/275 Stamina: 28/60 Mana: 12/13
The gain in experience was obviously limited due to my companions stealing precious experience points from me in battle. I crushed that selfish thought as quickly as it came, as no doubt the task would have been exponentially more difficult without my fellows. The gain in Strength had boosted my Health and Stamina by only a mere fraction, but it was still a welcome gain. I almost panicked again when I saw that my maximum Mana had fallen by two points before I realized that it was due to my Entropic Aura still being up. Our little skirmish now finished, I quickly reined in the magic. I left my companions to butcher the corpses, leaving the lion¡¯s share of the meat to the scavengers. The Lurker hides we loaded up onto our donkey, before we all settled down to catch our breath and rest for a while. My gear had suffered a little damage with a few weakened links in my chain mail, but I felt my equipment was still battle-worthy. Employing the same tactics, in smaller groups this time, we drew out more of the creatures, whittling away at their numbers until there were none left. Now, all that remained was for us to harvest the River Root and complete our task for the Adventurer¡¯s guild. Book 2: Experiments [Part 1] The Contest of Saints is held every ten years in the exotic city of Al-Lazar. It is a great martial tournament, where warriors from all over the land vie with each other to prove that they stand among the strongest in the world, to fight for the title of the Saint. No weapons are allowed in this most-holy of competitions. The contestants, or pilgrims, fight to the death, or until they yield. To walk on the sacred red marble of the temple¡¯s arena is a holy offering to the gods. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. Overall, I judged that we had made a good showing. However, there was one hairy moment when one of the River Lurkers made a beeline for Patches and wounded our beast before we were able to hurriedly put it down. I was forced to use a Heal to stem the flow of blood from the donkey¡¯s haunches. Thankfully, apart from this, the culling of the river creatures passed mostly uneventfully. It was more a test of mental and physical endurance, as opposed to a trial that sorely tested us, and we didn¡¯t even need to make use of our hastily-prepared traps. We had become so efficient that we even ended the last few groups well before the tree line, with Kidu¡¯s bow inflicting a bloody toll on their numbers. Thanks to our efforts in reducing the local Lurker population, I was able to gain another two hundred and fifteen additional Experience points, which pushed me ever closer to my next level. I had even gained a single point in both Constitution and Dexterity, though none of my skills had gained a point naturally, which was a little disappointing. We butchered the River Lurkers as quickly as we could. I even helped a little, as we were pressed for time. Surely, soon, the smell of blood would attract larger and more dangerous predators. We had far exceeded our quota of three hides and we were forced to discard the lion¡¯s share of the meat and the more damaged hides in a hastily-dug pit. I could only hope that we would be able to sell the extra hides somewhere in the city. However, Elwin seemed to be more excited at the prospect of having some new shoes made from the hides, no doubt to be used as a conversational point to impress. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Not wanting to get my equipment wet, or for that matter, drown myself, I unequipped my heavy arms and armor, which had grown slick with blood and gore. Elwin and I waded into the cool, fast-flowing water, keeping an eye out for other threats. Kidu stood as a sentinel along the bank, with a serpent-swift arrow nocked to his yew longbow. The remaining juvenile River Lurkers had long fled, as even their reptilian brains could understand the threat that my group presented. As instructed by Kidu, we felt our way down along the long stems of the River Root that anchored the plants to the bottom of the river. Then, with a sharp tug, as close to the base of the stem as possible, we harvested the herb, swiftly and methodically. My efforts even rewarded me with a new useless skill, a nominal amount of experience, and a much-welcomed attribute point.
5 experience gained. You have gained 1 Wisdom. You have learned Herbalism (lvl.1)
I didn¡¯t much see myself as a picker of herbs and flowers, but the gain in Wisdom was definitely useful, as I knew that the attribute affected my overall Mana. How it affected my actual thought process, however, was still a mystery to me. I definitely didn¡¯t feel much wiser. Besides, how exactly was Wisdom measured? I shut down these thoughts as we hurriedly moved from the river. Such was our rush that we did not even take the time to wring out our clothes, let alone see to our armor. Elwin and I simply piled our gear onto Patches, which drew an annoyed bray from the beast. I fed the donkey a carrot, which seemed to mollify her somewhat, but she still looked at me in what I construed as equine indignation. Once Kidu had judged that we were a suitable distance from the slaughter, we began to make camp as the sun began to set. I staked out Patches and helped place some Zajasite stones around the perimeter, extending the light of the campfire. We threw all pretense of stealth out of the window, deciding that it would serve us better to see our enemies if an attack came. Book 2: Experiments [Part 2] The painted colors of a soft pastel sunset gave way to the grays of twilight as the sun sank beneath the horizon. In time, the deeper darkness of true night claimed the sky. The large silvery moon shone from the heavens with a myriad of stars as companions, and my party saw to the minutiae of our outdoor camp. Most pressing for us was stretching out the lizard hides before they curled and warped. I had no skill in these matters, so I donned my armor once more and offered to patrol around the camp. Alone, I wandered around the camp, visor up, to take in as much as I could. Guard duty allowed me to have a little time with my thoughts. Occasionally I would toss a knife into a tree trunk. With every practice throw, I would picture an enemy¡¯s face, as some sort of punctuation to my patrol. What were my goals? For the time being, I needed to get stronger, in all senses of the word, and I needed to move out of Ansan to explore the greater world. I needed to know more of the powers that moved this world, especially of and the great primal force of Entropy. Comparing my current health points to what they were when I had first arrived here, It was clear to see how significantly stronger I had grown. This led me to think of all of my fights thus far, which in turn brought me back to my encounter with the elves. I shivered as the horrible memories rose to the fore of my mind. Perhaps I had not grown so powerful after all. Shuddering, I swiftly shifted my attention to something closer to the present. If possible, I would see about hiring our group out to one of the many caravans that braved the trade routes. But in what direction? Choices upon choices upon choices. Decisions that were not true decisions at all. I felt that something, or somethings, were pulling at me to go in a different direction, to do a different thing. And of my choices, the most extreme were those when I had been forced to kill. I had killed many times now, and not just monsters. To be absolutely honest with myself, I would probably kill them all over again without a second thought. After all, their deaths gifted me with experience points. Killing had come easily to me, and bearing the cost, it seems, was not to be too great a burden. Also, I had lost one of the first few friends I had made in this new world during our bid for freedom. I had expected a wave of guilt and sadness to hit me at the regurgitated memory, but strangely I felt almost nothing - a strange sort of emptiness, now that every day was no longer simply a struggle to survive. For better or worse, whatever changes were taking in place in me - Stout Durhit the dwarf would not be forgotten. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I truly began to understand that things such as guilt, remorse, and other modern sensibilities would only be yet another handicap for me here. Only the privileged and those with advantages could afford to enjoy such luxuries. It was probably at this junction in my adventures that, in my deepest heart, the first seeds of my burgeoning desire for power took root. For with greater power came greater freedom to do whatever I wished in this brand-new world. But with freedom came something else. These days, I felt more that I was without direction, but this also meant I was, for the first time in my life, truly free. It was ironic that it actually took a fantasy world to move me from my otherwise mediocre and railroaded life. The flames of rebellion stirred¡ªmy destiny would not be shackled by the divine. Neither the terrible goddess Avaria nor the void beast Entropy would reduce me to being a slave again. A wafting smell caught my attention and interrupted my thoughts. There was a delicious aroma that brought to mind the scent of cedar wood spit-roasted chicken. The inviting notes played about in the evening air, drawing me back, a willing captive, to the campfire to investigate. We sat down to enjoy our simple meal and passed the time in companionable silence, which was occasionally broken by a great belch from Kidu, who offered not a word of apology for his lack of table manners. The meal was flavorful, and each chew brought a burst of flavor that melted across my palate. The meat was reminiscent of something a little between chicken and beef, with some kick from the herbs and spices that Elwin had added. The only complaint I had was that our meal consisted only of lizard meat and tough traveler¡¯s bread. Some vegetables to round out the evening spread would have been most welcome. Once we were finished, we discussed and reviewed our recent actions, and the surprisingly ¡®easy¡¯ challenge of dealing with the quasi-alligators. We concluded that solid preparation and planning were still the keys to our success. Even though in the end we didn¡¯t need to use them, we had no regrets that we had prepared a simple line of traps. After collecting our rewards from the Guild, we would find a caravan out of the city as soon as we could. There were also the Broomshead mushrooms that we had collected for the eccentric alchemist. Since we had collected a rather considerable number of them, we could perhaps bargain for a little extra. Fighting the Karilla and the River Lurkers had completely pushed the matter out of my mind. When it was time for me to continue my voluntary watch, I excused myself from my companions. I patrolled the environs around our camp, just a little outside the blue Zajasite light at the perimeter. Alone with my thoughts, a memory rose, unbidden. A picture of a woman with golden trinkets in her hair filled the pit of my stomach with the beginnings of a new dread. We could not rely on our relative anonymity to shield us for long. Book 2: Experiments [Part 3] Wanting to keep myself occupied, to stop myself from going down these dark avenues of thought, and to whittle away the time, I practiced my knife-throwing skills. In a stroke of luck or skill, I was even able to pin a small six-legged lizard to a tree with my daggers. One of the blades had cut off one of its rear limbs cleanly and then embedded itself into the trunk of a tree. The other had pinned the reptile to the tree through its long meaty tail. The lizard had a beautiful feathered crest, though I was unsure of its color due to the poor light. It was scrabbling furiously to get away, sensing that the source of its dread was approaching. I was about to put the poor thing out of its misery with another throw when a cruel flash of inspiration hit me. I smiled a dark smile as I closed in on the little creature, causing it to further its futile escape efforts. Reaching up, I firmly plucked the small wriggling thing from the tree. It had completely stopped moving now, deciding that playing dead was the best course of action. Unfooled by such a basic ploy, I twisted at the area where my knife had pinned the beast, almost snapping off its tail but making sure that it was still attached by a few threads of flesh and skin. The animal positively scrambled to get away, furiously trying to escape from my grasp, but I just squeezed harder, stifling its pathetic attempts. Warm energies flew through me, starting at my core, then flowing through my arms towards the struggling creature. My Heal spell went into the beast, and the warmth of the magic infused the small thing with curative energy. With the struggling reptile in hand, I walked back to one of the perimeter stones. I held up the animal to the Zajasite¡¯s light. Before my very eyes, under the blue magical light, the damage I had inflicted with my knife and indifferent cruelty had healed. The long tail had reattached itself and aligned correctly with the rest of the vertebrae. The blood flowing from what was left of its left rear limb was now staunched. Deciding to remove the tail completely, I snapped it clean off with a sudden twist and threw the wriggling appendage into the bushes. The limits of my magic would require further testing, and the key to experimentation was repetition. The damn animal was bleeding on my gloves, a slow drip from its severed tail, and chirping in extreme panic and stress. It would have been kinder of me if I just snapped its neck there and then, and ended its poor life. But I hardened my heart and prepared to continue my torturous experiments, casting another Heal. Using the divine energies to improve my knowledge of the world at the cost of extending another being¡¯s suffering felt wrong, and the spell rebelled against my will at first. Nonetheless, I focused my intent, and once again, the warm healing magic flowed into the creature, its pathetic chirps stilling a little as the arcane energies flowed through its body. Its new wound scabbed over, forming a scar, and new scales and skin grew over the severed nub of its tail. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The whole thing fascinated me as I finally found a limit to my basic Heal spell. Though capable of restoring flesh, the spell could not regrow lost limbs. Curiosity warred with self-disgust and, after a few long moments, curiosity finally won out. I stuffed the struggling reptilian into a small leather bag, sealing it tightly with the raw-hide strips. The more-powerful version of the spell, Greater Heal, would require testing to see if it had similar limitations. I decided to wait until my Mana reached eleven or so points to avoid potential ¡®Mana sickness.¡¯ Despite the effects of Mana sickness being far less debilitating, I thought it best not to push myself. There was the option to cast a Drain, but the trees here were mere shadows of the behemoths of the true Sainba Forest and, most likely, had but a pittance of Mana in them. By my rough estimation, it would be a few more hours away, towards the end of my second watch, before I could cast Greater Heal. I did a few more laps around the camp as the soft moonlight painted the world in silvers and grays. There was no stealth to my step, and the sounds of my passing through the undergrowth were quite audible over the night sounds of the forest. The whole environment was alive, a stark contrast to my own life, which seemed such a long time ago. Was it months? Weeks? I had simply lost track; that world and its memories were growing distant and fading out of recollection. Trodding back, I woke up a complaining Elwin, who grumbled for grumbling¡¯s sake before taking up his watch. Like a monkey, the lithe man climbed one of the trees, surveying the night scene as I laid down to rest - too uncaring to remove my armor. Perhaps it was the skill, or just my own adaptable mind, but I had long since lost the initial feeling of weight and clumsiness that my suit of steel and iron had imposed. Not quite a second skin, but unless I consciously thought about it, I hardly noticed the difference. This brought my mind to question the nature of Skills. Were they just a measure of skill? Or were they, in fact, a direct bonus that was added artificially? I would hazard a guess that it was the latter, but I was unwilling to spend one of my precious skill points on one of my more martial skills as an experiment. Also, what were the interactions between them? Like my Endure and Pain Nullification skill? For instance, my own Silent Casting skill had a great unexpected synergy with Power Strike, allowing me to mimic the prowess of an experienced warrior. As I prepared for rest, these thoughts and more weighed heavily on me, even as I tried to ignore the struggling bundle at my side. Book 2: Inspiration [Part 1] The Gryphon, an esteemed creature native to the wilderness near Misery''s Reach''s mountainous terrain, has long been associated with the mountain tribes. These tribes, across generations, first tamed and ultimately domesticated these formidable beasts. Through the passage of commerce, their presence has extended throughout the mortal realms, often taking residence in the menageries and stables of affluent nobles, who possess the means to satiate their ravenous appetites. Though domesticated breeds are mere echoes of their untamed counterparts, they remain formidable, albeit temperamental, aerial steeds. - Monsters of the Mortal Realms by K. D. Fidditch. I woke up under the thick branches of the trees, rested and ready for a new day. Once again I had slept in full armor, which was beginning to become a habit. A part of me despaired at my slovenly behavior. Back on Earth, sleeping in the clothes I had worn during the day had gone against my modern sensibilities. Every day there would be a change of underclothes and clean socks, all at the press of a button. However, that comfortable and civilized life was, to all intents and purposes, a galaxy away. This caused me to marvel at how well my mind had adapted to my strange circumstances. Compartmentalization was probably what had enabled me to retain my sanity. I would need to unpack all of these emotions and thoughts at a later date, when we returned to some form of civilization. The familiar smell of meat cooking on the fire was in the cool morning air, causing my stomach to rumble in anticipation. The aroma was piquant. Elwin had probably used some of the sundry spices we had bought in Ansan. Slowly rising to my feet, I removed my gloves and hooked them to my belt. Patting my hands around my waist, I panicked a little as I noticed the leather pouch with the Karilla hatchling I had captured the previous night was no longer on my person. For a few moments, I thought that my companions had started to cook the poor thing for breakfast. Elwin cocked an eye at me at my predicament, a wry smile on his face as he cooked a few pieces of meat over our campfire. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kidu diligently maintaining his equipment. ¡°You was tossing and turning a bit in your sleep. Mumbling about some real odd stuff. Kidu thought you were having a religious visitation. I noticed the pouch moving at your side. You would have crushed it, too, with all your flailing and moving about,¡± explained the Rogue, almost as if he was merely commenting about the weather. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. My night terrors and general flailing must have been caused by my dark dreams. Becoming so inured to their visitations, I barely noticed them anymore, and simply forgot their imparted messages upon waking. A part of me had accepted them as an annoyance to be suffered, like the buzzing and bites of a bloodsucking mosquito. The Rogue''s explanation drew a grunt from Kidu as he sharpened his spear, but the taciturn man, choosing to not join in the one-sided exchange, never even looked up. Elwin, seeing that I was still at a loss, gestured to the tree I had slept against. ¡°Behind you, mate. You¡¯ll find your little pet still in the bag,¡± explained the Rogue, answering my unspoken inquiry and going back to his cooking. ¡°Thanks¡­¡± I murmured, half-groggily as I turned around, sleep still soaked into my bones. Slowly gathering myself, I muttered as I began checking my things. Looking into my bag, I checked to see if the healing potions I had bought from the eccentric alchemist were still alright. As my hands tested their seals, I was reminded of the Broomshead mushrooms I had collected for their maker. Hopefully, the collected fungi would help in some way to perhaps earning me a permanent discount at his store. Now that focus had finally won over the last dregs of sleep, I found myself standing fully upright and my thoughts grew steadily clearer. Looking to where the Rogue had indicated, I saw that my tied leather pouch was hanging from a low-lying tree branch. My experiment was still safe for the moment. Edging closer, I opened the bag and was greeted by a foul smell. The creature was alive, but it had defecated in the night. The smell of fecal matter and the pervading scent of animal fear overpowered the pleasant aroma of the meat cooking on the fire. Grimacing, I prepared to do what I had to do. All in the name of science. Focusing on the contents of the bag, I cast an Identify on the small lizard before reaching inside.
Karilla Hatchling - [Great Lizard lvl.2]
Health 3/3 Stamina 3/4 Mana 1/1
Seeing the name of the creature, I had to restrain myself from crushing it there and then, unwilling to let such a creature grow into another dangerous monster. The adult Karilla had been a most-fearsome opponent. However, I needed to continue my experiment, so it would have a stay of execution, for now at least. Book 2: Inspiration [Part 2] Focusing on summoning the divine magic of Greater Heal, I began to harness power from within. Golden motes of light seemed to gather around me, drawn first to me before transferring in a slow trickle to the poor creature. A soft song of angels seemed to stir in the back of my mind but I refused to give it voice, focusing on performing the spell silently. Without the vocal component, the spell seemed to take longer than usual to complete. The magic built up like water in a dam, before rushing out in a sudden deluge to infuse the lizard with raw healing. Before me, the scars on the small lizard¡¯s hide faded, and new scales formed in their place. Miraculously, the nub of what was left of its severed leg grew out into a new limb as more and more energy was channeled into the baby monster. I knew that some reptiles could regenerate their limbs, but what I was witnessing before me was on another level. It seemed that, in mere seconds, the feeble creature had been fully restored and was now positively glowing with vitality. In my wonder, I had let my guard down and loosened my grip on the reptile. The now-vibrantly healthy creature, seeing an opening for an escape, suddenly shot out of my hand. Before I could even react, it had scuttled into the undergrowth. ¡°Well, can¡¯t say you¡¯re¡­ much loved by your pets,¡± commented Elwin in amusement, his mouth half-full of lizard meat. I sighed at this and sat down next to him. It was not like I needed the creature any longer, I justified to myself. Honestly, it was more the surprise than anything else that irritated me. ¡°Doesn¡¯t stop me from liking them,¡± I huffed in a weak retort, making an uncontested move to skewer a piece of meat with my knife. No longer fresh, the meat had grown a little tougher, but it was still flavorful under Elwin¡¯s culinary ministrations. Not being a great chef, I could appreciate someone who can cook. Kidu, finished with the maintenance of his gear, came to join us and added some more chunks of meat. The pieces sizzled on the fire and added to the delicious aroma. ¡°So Kidu, old boy, whatcha you planning to do with the payout from this job?¡± Elwin asked of the large man. ¡°This skin of metal makes too much noise. Can¡¯t move as one with the wild,¡± reported Kidu, his voice gruff with his constant annoyance at the world in general. Far from his own home and in a strange land, I could not really blame the big man. ¡°Perhaps we can ask Cillis to make some adjustments¡ªsome soft cloth here and there to soften the noise on movement?¡± I added, remembering my brief time at her shop. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°First name terms with the lady smith? You work fast. Married too,¡± insinuated Elwin, chuckling a little when he saw I had all but frozen in embarrassment. The human mind is a wonderful thing that constantly parses all sorts of mundane and esoteric data. A supercomputer capable of changing and evolving. A true marvel of nature. My mind now was hit by what Elwin said. ¡®Work¡¯ and ¡®fast.¡¯ Speed and experience. The connection between them had been an idea that my mind had been trying to analyze subconsciously for a long time. Triggered by Elwin¡¯s words, my thoughts went off on an unexpected tangent. Why did I gain Status, Skill, and experience points quickly initially before the rate rapidly started to drop off? Experience. I theorized that I needed to experience new and challenging things to benefit from maximum rates of growth. Sure, repetition could work in a fashion but there would be limits, a plateau of sorts. This was a classic mechanic of rapidly-diminishing returns. When trying to gain more experience or improve Skills through the same actions, the amount of experience gained and the chance of improving a Skill would be dramatically reduced. That was probably why I stopped gaining points when I was stuck behind bars. A shudder passed through me as I briefly relived the memories of that time. But then why did I gain a similar amount of experience when I killed something? A cold echo answered me. The logical conclusion was a silent judgment on my soul. Murder. Every life that I took was different. But were their lives even real in the first place. More importantly, did I care? Then there was my rate of growth in comparison to the denizens of this world who lived almost all their lives here¡­ My bleak thoughts on the nature of the world were, however, rewarded, and it confirmed to me that I was perhaps on the right track.
You have gained 1 Wisdom.
I lost focus of the world around me. Guilt, and the ramifications of what this world was trying to make me do, were shaking me to the core. ¡°Hello, Gil! You there? Did you eat something funny? Or are you just remembering all of the fun times you had with the smith? I heard from Devon that she had quite the nice rack! By the Dark Lady, you can be a bit of a loon, staring off into space all of the time!¡± laughed Elwin at my stunned silence which drew an annoyed look from the man mountain, Kidu. Realizing that I had been staring out into space for a long while, I laughed in awkward good humor. I replied to the wiry man, ¡°No my good man. I¡¯ve just been hit with a flash of inspiration!¡± ¡°That sounds a wee bit dangerous, coming from you. Will it involve us having to kill a few more local monsters that can chop us in half?¡± Elwin said in return, a hint of suspicion laced in his voice. ¡°No, not at all,¡± I said, a new idea coalescing in my mind, ¡°Got a moment Kidu? I wish to test my Strength against you,¡± I finished with these magic words, perfectly designed to get the massive man¡¯s attention. Pausing in his current chore, he waited a long moment before answering my challenge. ¡°It would be an honor,¡± he rumbled like an avalanche from the cold frozen north. Book 2: The Test [Part 1] For the scholars of Quas, the origins of Gryphons represent a challenge to one of their oft-touted and supposedly enlightened paradigms. What made the gods, or nature itself, create a creature with the body of a lion, and the head, wings, and beak of a great eagle? The very existence of Gryphons completely overturns their theory that animals, not monsters, change across the millennia through a process called ¡®Nature¡¯s Crucible.¡¯ It is an absurd theory where they posit that it is, in fact, a creature¡¯s environment that shapes them, changing them across the generations. Any learned man or, heaven forbid, even a woman, would know of course, that the Gryphon is, in fact, not an animal at all, but a monster spawned from the twisted womb of Iasis. - Monsters of the Mortal Realms by K. D. Fidditch. ¡°I hope this proves entertaining,¡± Kidu said in his deep, heavy voice, eager for conflict. ¡°How about a friendly wrestling match? It would do neither of us any good if we were to injure each other here, were we to use weapons. Wrestling would be a purer test of strength,¡± I responded, hoping that he would agree to my suggestion. ¡°This is good and acceptable. Good, too, that you chose the morning. Don¡¯t want to hear complaining that you lost because you were tired from a little walk in the forest,¡± he answered, a glint of savage eagerness in his eyes. His response was filled with the fire and impetuousness of youth. I came to understand then, that for all of his martial might, the man mountain was actually still rather young. His beard, which was now gone, had given him the aura of age that he had not truly possessed when we were still out in the wilds. Now clean-shaven, I could see that no lines marred his face or creased his brow, which served to only reinforce his image of unrefined youth. He was young in both mind and body, which meant that the boy could easily be led. The elders of his tribe probably wanted to wash their hands of their rambunctious youth, pointing him to the softer ¡®warm lands.¡¯ The tall man began to take off his armor, but I raised a hand to stop him. ¡°We had best practice in the ¡®metal-skin.¡¯ Consider this training for the both of us, as well as a test,¡± I offered, seeking to test out if I could improve my combat skills with the novelty of the situation. Would I be able to gain a level in the Heavy Armor skill by ¡®fighting¡¯ the strong man? Also, a small part of me wanted to win, my own youth and eagerness spurring me on. The other reason why I chose to have our friendly competition in full armor was that I needed to, no matter how marginally, even the playing field a little. Kidu had, until very recently, been unfamiliar with wearing metal armor, and was still unused to moving about in it. I would be gambling that my own Armor skill would be higher than his, giving me an advantage. Grunting and rolling his shoulders, he put down his spear and stood to his impressive full height. Truth be told, he was an intimidating sight. The man positively towered over me. Strangely, I felt no fear, for there was a warm smile on his face that promised only a friendly challenge. I knew next to nothing about wrestling. The only nugget of information I knew was that it was beneficial to keep your center of gravity low. Against his superior Strength, I would do well by just keeping my footing. Still, from what I saw from his Status, I would be able to at least put up a challenge. The gap between our abilities, though large, was not insurmountable. Adopting a grappler¡¯s stance, he sunk low to the ground and I assumed a similar pose. Without warning, the man rushed me, seeking to end the competition there and then. It was a move more reminiscent of an experienced pit fighter. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. I could barely meet his charge. According to my Identify spell, despite us possessing a similar level of Strength, physics still ruled, in part, in this world as I was soon to find out. His solid mass hit me and it felt like getting struck by an enraged bull. Luckily, my armor absorbed most of the charge and, looking at my status bars, I saw only minimal damage to my Health. The raw force and sudden surprise of the attack had taken me completely off-guard, but he had failed to take me down to the ground. Elwin shouted words of encouragement from the sidelines, giving up all pretense of actually doing any of the morning chores. ¡°Get in there, my boy! Wahoo! Go fer it, the pair of you!¡± He hooted and hollered, genuine excitement on his face as he continued egging us on. Having survived Kidu¡¯s initial rush, I could feel him try to sweep me off my feet - and we danced, locked against one another, as I avoided his thick legs. For long moments we remained locked, before he tried to overpower me to the ground, giving up on technique, seeking to win there and then through sheer force. However, I sunk lower and I was able to roll him across my hip and actually used his own mass against him. Perhaps it was my own limited exposure to the refined martial arts of my world, or the memory of one of the many videos I had seen in my formative years, or it simply could have been all the stars aligning correctly with my plans. Whatever it was, I had succeeded in pulling off a maneuver that would have been impossible in my old world. Did the system of this world factor in my heavy armor skill and attribute points before rolling a die and deciding in my favor? However, Kidu, with his lightning-fast reflexes, was able to hook his leg against mine and we tumbled to the soft loamy forest floor. There we grunted and heaved, desperately seeking leverage to pin the other down. All thoughts of technique were forgotten as we rolled about. After a long while, our Stamina flagging, we both lay on the carpet of leaves and grass, exhausted. Elwin was breaking down in tears in laughter, the pent-up stress of the past few days or months having been released by witnessing our harmless fun. ¡°A good¡­ match¡­¡± I was able to say between labored breaths, seeing nothing but the green of the arboreal forest. ¡°Not¡­ bad¡­ for a hot-lander,¡± answered the big man, his breaths akin to the heaving of mighty bellows. ¡°Quite a beautiful show of the beast with two backs!¡± quipped Elwin, chuckling merrily at the pair of us. I felt a shot of annoyance flare up before I decided to laugh with him instead. It simply felt good and, soon enough, Kidu joined us as my group finally found some small measure of catharsis. So focused was I on winning that I had forgotten my initial reasons for challenging the big man. I quickly checked over my notifications, and sure enough, everything seemed to have followed my prediction.
You have learned Unarmed Combat (lvl.4) You have learned Heavy Armor (lvl.4) You have gained 1 Strength. You have gained 1 Dexterity.
With the increases to my base attributes, my maximum Health and Stamina had improved marginally and I had also gained a nominal amount of experience from the encounter. Wanting to see if Kidu had attained anything by the encounter, I cast Identify on him.
Kidu Kreshin - Hunter [Human lvl.13]
Health 297/315 Stamina 13/58 Mana 7/7
Apart from Kidu¡¯s own gains in his physical attributes, I noted with surprise that somewhere along our journey, Kidu had gained a point of Mana. It seemed that the large man was learning a little Wisdom somewhere. More surprising to me was the fact that I seemed to be, at least in raw attributes, catching up with the taciturn man. Book 2: The Test [Part 2] The natives of this world had no idea about the ¡®system,¡¯ and it would be impossible to ask Kidu about an increase in his skills. He would probably think I was raving mad or having another one of my ¡®god-touched¡¯ moments. ¡°Well, enough with all these fun and games, you two best get off your backsides. We¡¯ve got to get back¡ªI need to be spending some well-earned gold on strong drink and loose women!¡± exhorted the Rogue, eager to be back in the welcoming arms of civilization. Taking a moment to gather ourselves, we slowly rose up on unsteady feet. Despite our exhaustion and aggressive clash, we found ourselves smiling at each other. I realized that I was noticing the weight and restriction of my armor less and less as time went on. Was it human adaptability, my increased attributes, or simply just the very nature of Heavy Armor skill? Possibly it could be a factor of all three, I surmised as I slowly got my breath back. Once I had suitably recovered, I decided that it would be best if I helped here and there about the camp. Between chores, I scoffed down a few bites of lizard meat, which helped restore some of my Stamina and a tiny amount of Health. I chose to dilly-dally a little, as I wanted my Mana to reach at least five points before we ventured forth on the return leg of our journey. Finally, when we were ready, I let my companions lead the way while I held our donkey¡¯s reins and followed along behind them. The sounds of the forest followed us wherever we went, and I could see various woodland creatures skittering about the upper boughs of the trees. I also saw a massive creature that looked like a gigantic millipede from Earth¡¯s prehistoric past raise its antennae at us as we passed. My hand had reached for the weapon at my hip, in combat readiness, before Elwin shouted at me to stand down. ¡°Just a Happyfeet, no need to get your underclothes in a twist. They eat mulch and leaves,¡± explained Elwin as he turned around to look at me, his eyes rolling in exasperation. ¡°Sometimes I really just can¡¯t get the measure of you. You can do some of the most incredible things, yet at other times you''re like a babe just newly born,¡± he chortled, eyes alight with mirth. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Suddenly without any preamble, Kidu called for us to stop, holding up a hand. The wild man stooped low over a fallen log, inspecting it for something. ¡°Boomhead,¡± he stated simply, as he took out a knife to gather the mushrooms. ¡°Broomshead,¡± corrected Elwin, which drew a small grunt of annoyance from Kidu and simply caused Elwin to shrug. ¡°May I try?¡± I inquired, interrupting their little exchange as I knelt down beside the log, hiding the shade of eagerness in my voice as best I could. ¡°Yes, I will show you how,¡± said Kidu flatly, pausing for a moment to look at Elwin, before continuing, ¡°Cut as deep as you can to take the soft wood too. Roots of the mushroom come with us and it will help it keep for longer.¡± Kidu then began to cut around the mushroom slowly, explaining in his usual curt manner, how to best extract the fungus. I could see from the corner of my eye that Elwin was probably fighting a war to restrain himself from correcting Kidu¡¯s use of the common language. Even with my own limited understanding, I could see that he had mangled the sentence structure in places. However, it was not important to me in the slightest, as I had a hypothesis to test out. The Broomshead mushroom only had a passing similarity to its namesake. It had a short stem, with dark gills under a large brown cap covered with small, black hairlike fibers. Mimicking the Hunter, I cut as far as I could with my knife around the base and harvested as well as I could. Using the knife in such a manner would no doubt dull the edge and the flowing snake-like blade was already a devil to sharpen. As we continued collecting nature¡¯s bounty, I was finally given a new notification informing me of my latest achievement.
You have learned Herbalism (lvl.2)
It was annoying that I did not earn an extra point in Wisdom along with the skill. However, I felt that I was making real progress in understanding some of the rules and the nature of this world. The small amount of experience gained was also welcome, and perhaps the Hamsa would reward me with a little extra for bringing him more of the mushrooms. Puzzling on the ins and outs was, in a way, just another test, another challenge that I would have to overcome if I was to thrive in this magical land. Book 2: A Chance Encounter [Part 1] The words on their tongues are not always the thoughts behind their eyes. - Attributed to the playwright Vlan di Panoli. Golds and browns were in full riot across the boughs of the trees in this part of the forest, coloring the leaves with the last warmth of summer. The weather had grown cool and crisp with the changing of the seasons, the loamy scent of the woodland filling the air. Here and there, either Elwin or Kidu would point out a fruit, a nut, or an edible herb and, as a party, we would stop to gather some. One of the fruits, which I was told was called a Sasan, tasted sweet and tart at the same time. I swore I sensed an end note of aniseed as I gobbled one down. Sasan was not as delectable as Snap-Honey, but it came in at a very close second. Elwin informed me that people near the woodlands on this continent would gather the berries and make an aromatic pie at the turning of the season. The animals of the forest, too, were busy with gathering food. Here and there, small creatures of feather, fur, and scale competed with one another to stock their larders or put on enough fat for the coming winter. The larger denizens of the forest were also out and about. More than once or twice, Kidu had us skirt around the spoor of what he considered to be a wild creature that was best left undisturbed. Checking over my Status in the corner of my vision, I was pleased to note that I was in good condition. I could have done with a bit more Mana, but thanks to my Mana Regeneration skill, I had gained a few points passively without having to rest.
Health: 283/283 Stamina: 57/62 Mana: 7/15
I considered using the Drain spell, but concluded that the Mana gained would be far less than the Mana expended when used on lesser organisms. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. What would happen if I used the spell on my companions? Could I Drain them of their Mana and Health? Would using a Heal spell on them later to repair the damage result in a net gain? After all, it was not like they had any use for their Mana. It was certainly a line of thought worth pursuing at a later date, albeit with my companions¡¯ permission of course. The forest was beginning to thin now, the undergrowth becoming more sparse as we pushed on. The beast trail that we were following was slowly evolving into a muddy path. In the far distance, I could see the city of tents, Ansan, growing ever closer. Then, suddenly, it happened. The sounds of the forest stilled for a moment before a bush arose in front of me to form the shape of a man. The cool rasp of drawn steel rang in the air, as blades were removed from their scabbards. ¡°Hold up there, friends,¡± the man said, his voice cultured and at odds with his rough appearance. He removed the hood that hid his features with his left hand, revealing a weaselly face. His other hand held a war cleaver, with a wicked serrated single-edged blade. He was clothed in what I could only describe as a proto-ghillie suit, with odd bits of the local vegetation attached to a dark brown gambeson that made him resemble nothing more than innocent plant life. Around us, similarly-clad men popped up like new and unwelcome growths. Glancing at my companions, I saw that Kidu and Elwin looked completely stupefied, having been completely taken unawares. Quickly trying to assess the threat we were facing, I looked around. My eyes darted this way and that as I hurriedly equipped my shield from my back. We were surrounded by five men in total, that I could see, perhaps more in hiding. This was the second time my group had been ambushed and I could feel a swelling frustration that was swiftly growing into a rumbling adrenalin-fueled anger. This would not be a repeat of my encounter with the elves. Unlike the elves, this group did not exude an air of tangible menace. By their dress and demeanor, I surmised this group to be common garden-variety bandits. Just out of the forced and scripted slavery stage, and with the open world of the game now available to me, I was a little disappointed to already be facing such a cliche ¡®fantasy¡¯ enemy. The enemy began to encircle us and one of the men, equipped with a staff and displaying an obscenely obese girth, whispered into the leader¡¯s ear. Seeking a measure of my foes, I hastily cast an Identify at their exchanged words. I was fully prepared to do whatever it took to live. These bandits would not find my group easy prey. ¡°...take alive¡­¡± was all the meaning I could glean with my spell before the portly man waved his fingers in my direction, causing me to lose control of my magical energy. ¡°None of that,¡± the fat man wheezed, turning his beady eyes towards me as he smiled. The bastard had interrupted my cast with a ruddy counterspell or some similar skill. Still, the spell was not at a total loss, as the words ¡®take alive¡¯ were revealed to me¡­ Meaning that this group had to fight within certain constraints. We, on the other hand, were under no such restrictions. Book 2: A Chance Encounter [Part 2] ¡°Now, there is no need for this to be any more difficult than it needs to be. It is just like the dream! Providence, after all,¡± the obese man exclaimed between labored breaths, ¡°As expected from her Champion, you have some gift with the Control¡­ untrained though you may be. Ahh, forgive my manners. My name is Amon Vanes, Priest of the Church.¡± My mind was confused by Amon¡¯s rambling words. Champion? Divine will? As these thoughts ran rampant in my mind, Amon continued, ¡°I will, of course, have you all put your weapons down and come with us peacefully. Peacefully¡­¡± ¡°Wait!¡± I half-shouted, my stomach turning to lead as a sinking feeling overcame me, ¡°You come on behalf of Avaria?¡± I questioned, tamping down long-suppressed memories. Amon visibly blanched as I used the Goddess''s name, and his left eye ticked in annoyance, ¡°Yes, yes of course. She chose me to deliver you unto her loving and caring bosom. Be not afeard, for you are her Chosen, and all of us here will be but your humble escorts,¡± he delivered, the lie obvious in his oily tone. I pretended to be at ease, lowering my weapons a fraction, even as cold rage boiled inside me. Sneaking a glance at Kidu and Elwin, I feigned compliance and surreptitiously took a step forward. Hurriedly, I tried to take stock of the situation. On the face of things, these people were technically on my side. Perhaps there was a way to talk myself out of this situation, even recruit these people to my cause. On the other hand, I had a pitiable Charisma, so I doubted that going down that road would be the wisest move. Also, did I even want to go through the hassle of negotiating with such obviously low-level scum? If I could do something about Amon¡®s magic, the rest should fall like dominos. Sometimes the simplest solutions were the best, and in this case, probably more rewarding in terms of experience. I hoped that my companions would follow my initiative. ¡°Where are you planning on taking us?¡± I asked, doing my best to keep my voice calm and even. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°Why, to the holy city of¡­¡± replied Vanes cordially, seeing that I was receptive. As he was finishing his sentence, I moved another half-step forward, lowering my weapons close to the ground as if to relinquish them. I was just a few steps out of measure now. There was only one way to deal with the threat of violence. Real violence. Taking the initiative, I rushed at the bandit leader with a snarl. Kidu, drawn in my wake, started to engage the bandits to the side with his serpent-swift spear. Even through the rush of my charge, I saw that all of the ambushers, except the leader, had various blunt instruments and nets, confirming the leader¡¯s words that they were here to capture us. This meant that they would have to take care in how they engaged us. For some reason, these men wanted us alive. The thought that they wanted to possibly make us slaves once more gave strength to my resolve as I closed the distance. Channeling the internal energy of my own body, I swung out at their leader with the edge of my shield. The sensation was much akin to using a Power Strike, but subtly different.
You have learned Shield Bash (lvl.1)
The notification crossed the bottom of my vision and I dismissed it. Snarling guttural invectives at me, he dodged my blow and drew his weapon in a single motion before swinging the war cleaver in a swift counterattack. I raised my kite shield in defense and angled it, more to deflect the leader''s weapon than to absorb the blow outright. I was still a novice at the art of war, and made a fool¡¯s mistake. My own shield blocked my vision as I raised it high to intercept the oncoming blade. Had I known better, I would have launched an attack of my own to make up for my temporary blindness, instead of taking turns at defense and attack. The heavy blade crashed against my shield and caused a shock to go down my arm from the impact. Upon deducing that he was fighting a beginner, the bandit leader charged in and placed his forward leg behind my rear leg, and pushed me to the ground. The world changed angles as I crashed onto the soft forest floor. Looking up, I saw him reversing his grip and the blunt back of his weapon began its descent. Book 2: A Chance Encounter [Part 3] Luckily, the weapon was deflected by the haft of Kidu¡¯s lightning-quick spear. There was a grace and speed to his movement that spoke of more than just raw talent. It was a water-fluid dance, borne of a thousand repetitions, and driven by a spirit that was determined to remain free from the shackles of slavery. The hunter formed a flashing circle with his weapon that drove off the attackers on my right, creating a null zone around its length as he fended off the bandit leader and his men. I looked around for Elwin, but of the Rogue, there was no sign. Where could he have gotten to? Soon enough, however, I heard a scream that was not his. I could only assume that his knives had claimed another life. Awkwardly, I scrambled to my feet as quickly as possible, adrenalin running flush through my system. Amon had retreated a small distance and had begun to chant, his face furrowed with concentration as he gripped his staff with both hands. The fat man looked triumphantly in my direction as he finished chanting, and a pall of exhaustion fell over me. My eyelids grew heavy, my limbs leaden, and my weapon and shield felt like sinking heavy weights in my hands. The voices, the echoes of the void that had always been in the back places of my mind, clamored in rebellion against this arcane intrusion. Still, it was not enough to stop the insidious effects of the magic until I felt an impact in the flesh of my upper right arm. This was quickly followed by a sharp stab of pain in my leg and I looked to see that an arrow had dug into my thigh. The arrowhead had lodged itself a few centimeters deep, having punched through the mail, and had dropped my Health by around thirty points. The blossoming pain filled me, sharp and insistent, but it stopped the progress of my magically-induced stupor. It was time to fight magic with greater magic. Entropic Aura begged to be released, promising a swift answer to my current predicament. Who was I to deny such a faithful friend? Black waves pulsed from me, and the dark energies began to eat away at Amon¡¯s debilitating curse. He narrowed his porcine eyes and spoke a few arcane words, wiggling his fat fingers in my direction again. I could feel something trying to cut the connection to my Aura. The man looked absolutely stupefied when his attempt to counter my spell failed. Just as the realization of this failure truly began to settle, from behind him a dark shape arose and stabbed him in his corpulent gut. He screamed in a girlishly high pitch as he fell to the forest floor in agony, holding his sides with his flabby hands. The spellcaster must have been an intrinsic part of their group because, in no short order, the leader disengaged from Kidu, pulling one of his men with him before shouting, ¡°Retreat!¡± This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Roaring in rage and frustration, Kidu made to give chase but grunted in pain as an arrow hit him, piercing through the mail that covered his dominant arm. Like the wildman, I wanted to run them down, and so I began to hobble after them. I made little progress, however, thanks to the lingering effects of the fat man¡¯s magic and, equally debilitating, the arrow sticking out of my thigh. I felt a hand on my shoulder and spun around to deal with the new threat, only to see that it was Elwin. ¡°Hey! Hey! Calm! Calm! We¡¯re in no shape to go chasing through the woods, lads. Best we start running in a different direction¡­ They could have friends, after all, somewhere nearby,¡± he said to me in a cool voice that cut through the haze of my battle rage. I drew in a deep breath to reign in my anger, but Kidu, having caught up to us, yelled at the retreating brigands. A seething frustration at having been ambushed again demanded satisfaction. I kicked at the forest floor, sending up clods of humus and fallen leaves in anger as I turned back. I needed to vent, and as luck would have it, I laid eyes upon Amon, who was struggling and whimpering as he tried to hold in his life fluids. I needed to control the flood of emotion that threatened to overwhelm me. As a symbol of control, I reined in my Entropic Aura. ¡°Hold him down,¡± I barked, ordering my group. My two companions looked at each before they moved to restrain the fat man by his corpulent limbs. He screamed and struggled, but in his current state was no match for the two. His jowls quivered in fear as he looked up at me, his piggy eyes wide with powerless fear. Looking deep into his eyes, I searched them for answers. How had they found me? I would get to the bottom of this. These were no simple bandits led by a Friar Tuck. ¡°Who sent you?¡± I asked in a flat tone, mimicking the Overseer Degei¡¯s neutral and uncaring inflection from the slave pits. The man just stilled his whimpers and grew suddenly silent. It was not like I was looking for an answer at this point anyway. This was simply the beginning of the dance. Seeking answers, I cast Identify on the reticent man. This time there was no counterspell, but there seemed to be resistance, the magic having difficulty in finding purchase on the subject. To my dismay, the spell¡¯s energy simply dissipated, which proved to just vex me further. ¡°Use us,¡± the voice of the deep magic within insisted. I felt no urge to resist Entropic Aura¡¯s call and power that bloomed from within, the pulse of the raw decay of the universe. The sibilant voice assured me that the dark energies would make short work of the mage¡¯s magical resistance. In hindsight, I should have just kept channeling the spell. It would have saved me two Mana from not having to recast it again. Oh well, I guess that was the price of learning. ¡°Now, let¡¯s try that again¡­¡± I said, a wolfish grin growing ever wider as I showed the fat man my teeth, my eyes filled with cold promise. My companions looked at each other for a moment, before their faces settled in grim determination. It was time to have a few questions answered. Book 2: Questions & Answers [Part 1] True love is a whisper, and deep hate is a shout. Often the two are intertwined. - Attributed to the playwright Vlan di Panoli. It was ironic that the agony I had endured at the hands of my captors in the slave pits gave me the tools to make the fat man, quite literally, spill his guts. With the aid of my healing magic and the judicious use of one of the potions, we had quite a margin of error to work with. Even when one of my companions got a little too enthusiastic in their cathartic questioning, we were able to bring Mr. Vanes back for another round. According to my magic and confirmed by the man himself, his name was Amon Vanes. The man had confessed to being a priest and mage of the Church of Her Divine Radiance, Avaria Goddess of Justice.
Amon Vanes - Mage [Human lvl.18]
Health: 26/166 Stamina: 2/17 Mana: 4/18
The lump of lard had impressive magical capabilities, though I doubted he could run a full marathon with his physical attributes. Still, he was of a comparatively higher level than the local mobs. Of interest to me was the fact that he had been able to resist, at least initially, some of my magic. If he had not been so fixated on his own personal glory and had come with the full force of his Church behind him, things might have turned out a little differently. What was pleasing was that, ¡®unlearned¡¯ as I was in the Control, the use of the arcane in the local nomenclature, my maximum Mana was only a little behind a full-on Mage¡¯s. At this stage of play, I reckoned that Control was probably something to do with my overall level of my spells. What worried me was his ability to nullify magic. If there were others like him, who could perform similar arcane feats, then I would have to prepare accordingly. Though truth be told, I did not know where to begin. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Another concern was that the man had known where to look for me. The organization he was part of, the Church, had been able to divine my general location, and had sent many of their agents to this land to find me. In between his screams of pain and pleadings for mercy, we were able to learn that the ecclesiarchy of the Church wanted him to bring me in at all costs, on the orders of a certain Cardinal Mauros. Amon claimed that he had been visited by Avaria herself, and given the mission of finding her lost champion and bringing him back into the fold. Believing himself to be one of her chosen, a prophet, he employed a local guide and some hired blades and set out to search for me, the "Herald of Avaria," in the Sainba. Fortunately, for me at least, in his desire to claim all the glory of finding me in Her name, he neglected to inform his superiors of his divine visitation. That meant the other teams still had no exact idea of where I was. Providence works in mysterious ways. Had he succeeded, he would have climbed several rungs up the ladder of the Church hierarchy. It was no different here than in my old world, where greed, power, pride, and the desire for social status were also prevalent. These were emotions and ambitions that I was familiar with. From Amon, I concluded that there were others like him, searching for me in various parts of this continent. I would have liked to have spent more time questioning the man, probably extending our little session for a few more hours, but my companions, now sated, convinced me that it would have been a foolish choice. We needed to leave the immediate area as soon as possible in case the others, who had escaped, returned with reinforcements. Amon¡¯s words were confirmation that Avaria had truly betrayed me. Was this how the deities of this world treated their chosen? You have been judged and have not been found wanting. These had been Avaria¡¯s own words. I understood those now to be lies¡ªnothing more than tools of manipulation. A way to stroke my pride and make me more amenable to her terrifying will. When we deemed it necessary to depart, I slashed the fat man''s throat, leaving him to choke on his own blood, naked and helpless, like a stranded whale. This gruesome act earned me some valuable experience points and momentarily eased my disappointment. However, as I assisted my companions in dividing the various items from the recently-slain man, I could not help but feel a sense of unease at how my perspective on the value of human life had drastically shifted in this world. The once-unthinkable act of murder had become just another necessary chore. ¡®But was it really murder?¡¯ another part of my mind countered. During the quick skirmish, the Hunter and the Rogue had managed to slay a ¡®bandit¡¯ each, but I did not receive any experience from this. This was probably due to me not having ¡®tagged¡¯ or damaged any of the enemies with any of my abilities. Shame, I would have to remember the conditions for experience gain in future conflicts. Book 2: Questions & Answers [Part 2] We searched through the corpses of our would-be abductors and found an assortment of low-quality knick-knacks and miscellaneous equipment which we bundled onto Patches. The donkey brayed in protest, but soon forgot her complaint when fed a carrot. The items we had loaded up were mostly vendor trash. Still, waste not want not, I muttered under my breath as my companions and I pocketed odds and ends, as well as a few coins for ourselves. Amon¡¯s staff had been a disappointment. According to my Identify spell, it was nothing more than a wooden stick and not magical in the slightest. I loaded it up on Patches anyway. It might make for good firewood one day. Some of the other items of interest that we had plundered were a few pages of blank parchment and a small basic writing kit, complete with blotting sand, quill, and ink, that we had found in one of the fat man¡¯s bags. These I decided to keep for myself. Alongside the writing kit was a gold-plated medallion on a silver chain, depicting a likeness of Avaria holding a sword and knife in either hand. I surreptitiously stuffed the medallion into my pouch when the others were not looking. We looted the various articles of clothing from our attackers and left them only their small clothes. Around the necks of the ¡®bandit¡¯ corpses were black tattoos, styled in the image of the twin horns of some sort of auroch-like creature. They were the local muscle, members of a dubious criminal gang that the late Amon Vanes had hired. Ultimately, they too had been a victim of his hubris. On one topic, however, Amon had been particularly tight-lipped. He refused to give me what I wanted when I had asked him about what magics he and others of the Church were capable of. Through magical means, simple mundane willpower, or plain vindictiveness, he had refused to give me even a tiny sliver of arcane knowledge as he walked the final steps to oblivion or paradise. Once we had finished our business, I cast Decay on the corpses and was almost immediately assaulted by a sweet putrescent smell. The entropic energies had found fertile ground in the now-rapidly rotting dead flesh. With Patches braying at the assault on her sense of smell, we moved quickly away from the macabre scene. Luckily, a far-from-fresh carrot was all it took to distract the poor creature from the recent violence and blood. The Decay spell I had unleashed could not completely mask what had happened, but at the very least it would hopefully make identifying the corpses a little more difficult, should anyone come back to this site. The forest had grown quiet, I realized, as the animals were probably subdued by Amon¡¯s shrill screams and the raw stench of death. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°The fat one was of old Qisnian imperial stock,¡± commented Elwin offhandedly, as he tightened one of the loose straps on Patches¡¯ bags. ¡°Livestock,¡± grunted Kidu, from the front of our small formation. It took a few moments for the Rogue to mentally adjust to Kidu¡¯s attempt at a joke before he finally chuckled, which was soon echoed by Patches¡¯ braying. Then, I saw Elwin¡¯s face concentrate for half-a-second, mulling over a smart rejoinder before he just gave up and simply laughed along. Our group trudged on. Kidu, despite being armored and larger than I, seemed to manage this almost preternaturally and with far less noise than me. Gradually, the sounds of the wilderness returned. Up above, creatures moving agilely through the branches of trees, and beautiful multi-winged songbirds crooned their ardent melodies. Lost in my own anxious thoughts, I couldn''t shake off my constant state of worry. It was clear that I was being hunted by some powerful organization, and I couldn''t help but wonder why they had revealed my location to Amon. Was it a deliberate choice, or did the gods of this world have their own limitations? Perhaps it was my overactive mind but, moving through the undergrowth, I could not help but imagine another set of eyes upon me. ¡°I think I feel something or someone following us,¡± I hissed to Kidu, and I almost tripped over a tree root as I voiced my concern. The wild man simply nodded to me, before falling back to cover our rear. We had chosen speed over stealth, and we had made no move to hide our trail. Even a blind man could have followed us. My mind was spinning as I pondered various tactics and strategies to help evade potential trackers. However, my thoughts were interrupted by uninvited musings that crept in like unwelcome guests, as I caught another sight of this world¡¯s nature in action. Looking up, I saw a six-legged squirrel analog jump across one of the boughs. A fraction of a second later, a jagged spike shot out and impaled the poor animal. It all happened rather fast. Too fast, really, to see what kind of predator was responsible for the kill. The animals of this world were truly perplexing; while some animals were familiar, such as horses and donkeys, others were completely alien to me. I couldn''t help but wonder how that was even possible. And for that matter, why were humans present in this strange world? Shaking my head, I realized that I would have to set aside such rambling thoughts for another time. Elwin, ever the practical one, posed a question that had been lingering in the back of my mind. In truth, it was more a worry than a direct question. "So, it looks like we got the Church on us. What in the Dark Lady''s name are we going to do now?" he asked us, his usual nonchalant grin absent from his features. Book 2: Decisions [Part 1] To earn the right to wear a Mantis Mark blade is a great honor, given unto a very select few who have dedicated their lives to the path of carnage that is the way of the sword. Beware a man or woman who bears such a blade, for all of them possess a strength of skill that nears the realms of divinity. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. ¡°So what are we going to do now, lads?¡± the Rogue repeated himself, looking each of us in the eyes. The silence was only broken by the flitting sound of a bird alighting on a branch above us. Elwin sensed that we had no answers and decided to put forth his own ideas. ¡°Now, the way I see it is that we need to book it out of here as soon as possible. No good can come of it if one of those inquisitor-types gets a sniff of your trail, gods in heavens, I would know,¡± he said, hissing through his teeth and taking a moment to pause. ¡°We can lie low, do a bit of camping out here with the beasts and birdies, and hope this all blows over, but even that porker was able to find us. I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve done to rile them up, and I am not sure I even want to know,¡± he continued in a matter-of-fact tone. I began to mount a defense of my actions, sensing an accusation, but he simply held up a hand, cutting me off, and plowed on, ¡°It don¡¯t matter now, though. That¡¯s not the option I¡¯d be going for anyways¡ªliving in the woods like a common bandit is not the life for me. There¡¯s no way across the sea of grass unless you¡¯re with a caravan with one of their Water Mages, so that is the best and only realistic option we¡¯ve got. Going through the deep wilds is just another form of suicide, and besides, no one knows even what¡¯s on the other side. Legions ¡®ave been lost going through the wilds to chart out a shorter path for the Beacons. So like I said, joining up with the next caravan in Ansan that¡¯s heading down west or south or wherever they¡¯re going is still our best course. As guards if we can, or we just pay whatever fee they ask,¡± he finally finished, an edge of panic in his voice that he was doing well to hide. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°We¡¯ll need money, then,¡± I added simply, feeling I had been manipulated. ¡°Yes, and a fair bit too. I¡¯ll head into the city with the old donkey, sell all of the gear and stuff, and negotiate a decent fee with a caravaneer. Then I¡¯ll meet you outside the gates and we can join up with the caravan from there. Saves us a bit of time, and the quicker we get these chores done and dusted, the faster we are getting out of here¡ªwhatcha think?¡± he said, a forced smile on his face. Maybe it was the effect of modern media on my psyche, or just plain paranoia or stubbornness which led me to begin to voice a denial, but Kidu beat me to the punch. ¡°No, little man. We go together. I have seen too much of warm-lander treachery. No, we go together. For your safety if nothing else,¡± the large man rumbled. I found this reassuring. Before Kidu had espoused the safety of staying in the wilds, but maybe a little of civilization had rubbed off on him. Either way, I saw only disadvantages to splitting up our little team at this juncture. ¡°I am with Kidu on this, we can only get through this if we all work together as one,¡± I added, a little lamely. ¡°Bah, it was a good plan. But don¡¯t you all be blaming me if things go downhill real quick. Was thinking since those Church people are looking for a group, it might be best if we split up. I do my best work alone,¡± muttered the lithe man, under his breath. Soon enough, we broke through the trees and into the endless rolling plains. The vista that had once been beautiful and majestic now seemed ominous and foreboding. My eyes were drawn to the city of tents, where I saw smoke from hundreds of fires wafting up into the air as the late afternoon sun and wind made waves of the grass. ¡°Whatever happens, we will face it together. Our destinies are joined,¡± I said a little more firmly now, trying to regain my leader¡¯s role. Worry was still worming its way through my mind, making me try to second-guess everything. How far did I even trust Elwin, anyway? Book 2: Decisions [Part 2] We made for the city, a little fear and necessity lending our legs speed and helping us with our fatigue. Elwin looked the worse for wear, no doubt by having a lower Constitution than Kidu and I, but he continued gamely on, matching his pace to ours. In time, we arrived on the poorly-maintained ¡®road¡¯ that led back into the city, inserting ourselves between the carts laden with lumber and other goods from the Sainba Forest. Under Elwin¡¯s skillful direction, we nonchalantly positioned ourselves just behind a group of rugged-looking hunters, their cart laden with pelts and a large carcass of some sort of exotic beast. They looked quizzically at us, before pointedly ignoring us. To a casual observer, we might have looked like we were part of the same group. Our eclectic mix of arms and armor, and Kidu¡¯s large bow, would give credit to that facade. The group in front of us, in due time, reached the guards checking the incoming traffic. With a motion born of rote, one of the hunters with a lazy eye flashed a gruff guard a bronze badge that glinted for a moment as it caught the light of the afternoon sun. An Adventurer¡¯s Guild badge, I noticed, and I thought things might be finally going our way. It was good to see that the badge had some weight behind it. ¡°Alright, lads. The recent pickle we were just in may make things a little harder. Just act all calm as if nothing has happened. Don¡¯t need to draw any attention to us. An¡¯ let me do all the talking,¡± Elwin huffed as we made our way to the post. In the manner of the group before us, the Rogue simply flashed his badge and waved for us to move on. However, my optimism soon faded when a guard gave me a menacing look, and barred my way with the haft of a polearm. I could hear Kidu¡¯s menacing growl behind me to my left and, before he could react in his predictably-violent manner, I fished my badge from my pouch, mentally urging Kidu to do the same. Doing my best impression of a placating smile, I was met with a sullen glare as the guards waved us both through. ¡°What was that!? I told you not to draw attention to us,¡± Elwin hissed, as we moved out of earshot and made our way down the main thoroughfare. So surprised was I at his outburst, I barely dodged an incoming cart, the owner of which was cursing me for a fool as he continued on his way. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Not wanting to create a scene, I simply held up my hands in surrender, looking around warily to see if anyone was looking at us. ¡°Keep on walking. Not now,¡± I hissed back, frustration and fear lacing my voice. The Rogue promptly fell silent and muttered a small curse under his breath as we veered off the main street. I followed my instincts, but they led me astray, and I soon found myself completely lost in the labyrinthine city of tents. Determined not to appear foolish, I tried to salvage something from the situation. ¡°With luck, we should be free of any tails by now,¡± I stated with false confidence. ¡°Tail?¡± asked Kidu of me, his eyes furrowed almost comically. ¡°Yes, people who would have been following us after you lot¡¯s little performance at the gate,¡± muttered Elwin. A spike of frustration flared up within me, but I quickly pushed it down. This was not the time to let our group fracture over a small slight at such a delicate juncture. "Elwin, could you take us to the Alchemist''s shop?" I asked the Rogue in my most-neutral voice. "Sure, just follow me. We sure wasted one of our potions on that lump of lard, didn''t we?" he said with a grin, his jibe lacking the sharpness of his earlier words. I smiled in a reconciliatory manner, accepting the olive branch for what it was. The Rogue led our small group, no doubt using the great ark in the distance as a landmark of sorts, through the busy city. We wove our way through the massive throngs that made up the daytime traffic, and even as worried as I was, I had to stop myself from gawking at some of the fantastical and exotic scenes that I saw. The most-fascinating of these was a man who walked along the streets, clad in robes of almost pure white, without a speck of dirt, despite the mud and general effluvia in abundance all around us. Around his neck, and draping down his back, a slender winged serpent, painted in the colors of the rainbow, was curled around him like a living piece of art. The man, noticing our gazes, nodded to us pleasantly before feeding his pet a small fruit from his pouch. Eventually, the smell of the city was pushed aside by something much stronger and more acrid. A familiar purple-colored yurt was before us, a plume of greenish smoke billowing up from the smoke hole at its top. We had returned to Hamsa''s Wondrous Apothecary. Book 2: A Forced Bargain Good men plant seeds of trees whose fruit they shall never taste. - A Quassian Aphorism. I realized now that it was more than a whim that had led me to choose to visit the Alchemist''s first. After a long day''s weary march, making my way back to a familiar place brought a rare and welcome calmness, as this day had been just another incredibly long one. I took off my gloves and hung them on my belt, before removing my helm and tucking it in the crook of my arm. Instead of feeling disgusted by the rank smell wafting from the tent that served as his abode and place of business, I felt a slight sense of relief. A grin found its way to my face, despite the stench hitting me like a brick as I entered. My companions had, perhaps rather wisely, chosen to stay outside to watch over Patches and our belongings. "Hamsa!" I half-shouted in the smoky gloom, my eyes searching for the alchemist as my nose crinkled in response to the caustic smell. Soon enough, a wheezing cough signaled his approach, and a figure coalesced, seemingly from out of nowhere. In the dim light, I could see him squint behind his dirty spectacles as he came closer. "No need to shout! I swear, young people are getting so hasty these days. Always rushing off this way and that! And LOUD!" reproached the hunched man, his gray eyes roaming over me before recognition lit across his pale, sickly features. "Ah, it is you! The welcomed and most-honored customer has returned! The young master Gilgamesh of Uruk himself!¡± he exclaimed. The man took a moment to dust himself off from his latest experiment before wiping his hands with a dirty rag. Putting the ratty piece of cloth into a pocket of his leather apron, he smiled somberly at me. ¡°You have it, don''t you, outlander?" the Alchemist said tersely in his cultured voice and held out his hand commandingly, like a noble awaiting his tithe. "Yes, we were able to find some," I answered as politely as I could, though something in his choice of words struck a small part of me. Shrugging off the feeling, I reached into the pouch and handed the man the strange-looking mushrooms he had requested. Idly, I wondered about what use the man would have for them, what mysterious concoction he would be able to make. "Good, my breakfast has been lacking without them. Did you know they are wonderful on toasted bread in the morning? It is good to see that young people still stand by their words with deeds," he said, nodding in appreciation. Absolutely gobsmacked, I could only look at the man, feeling that fate had once again somehow cheated me. This was no noble quest to gather ingredients for a fabled magical elixir. It was nothing more than a simple chore for this pathetic NPC. I had to rein myself in, however, as we had been ''paid'' already with the steep discount on our last purchases. Besides, it had been a simple little side quest that took almost no effort at all on my part. "Men have been looking for you, outlander. A fortune they promise for any information regarding you," he said, his voice taking on a subtle but menacing tone as he took off his grimy spectacles. His words seemed no less than an open threat to me, and I slowly reached for the weapon at my waist. If his intent was perfidious blackmail, then he would be paid with steel through his smashed skull. My armored body almost quivered in anticipation of violence, and the voices within grew excited at the prospect. "No, no, none of that," the Alchemist said, holding up both of his hands to show that he meant no harm. His choice of words left much to be desired, though. "You are a man in need of help, no? And since you have helped me with my breakfast, I am very much indebted to you," he continued, a serpent''s smile on his hairless face. "Speak on, and be quick about it," I said, irritation threaded into my stance and voice. I was but a few steps from striking the man. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. "To truly know a man, you must first know what..." the Alchemist began again. "Enough already," I snapped sharply, loudly enough for my companions to hear. Hamsa did not know it, but it was at that point that he had come closest to a swift death. I had been hounded and hunted, fought dangerous creatures, and had defeated a powerful mage. A mere Alchemist and purveyor of potions would be no match for me. My anger was reaching a boiling point, and only the thin shreds of civility were holding me in check. "Again, so hasty is our youth. I know, probably, what it is you want. You want a way out of this city, yes?" he asked playfully, steepling his fingers, a merchant about to sink his claws into an unsuspecting customer. I found myself surprised at his brazen gall. Despite the threat of physicality, he acted as if he still held a clear advantage in this situation. Sensing he was awaiting a civil response, I reined in my emotions and decided that silence would serve me best. However, the man simply took this for assent. Drawing a deep breath, which broke down undramatically into a wheezing cough, he continued with his proposal. "I have friends among the merchant folk; they will give you safe passage far away from here. A place where those looking for you can never reach. Their route will take them across the grass sea and the great sands of the Whispering Wastes to the city of Al-Lazar. A place where a man can truly be free. There, even a hasty man such as yourself can find what he seeks," he said knowingly, in an almost comically-annoying sage-like voice, filled with enunciated portent. The man had piqued my interest, a fact that was clearly displayed on my countenance and etched into my posture. Like a man lost and thirsty in the desert, I craved deliverance, and he proffered a draft of water. He had his hooks in me now, and he knew it. I was growing tired of his song and dance, but it was a tune that I could not afford to ignore. "All that I ask," he paused for an almost dramatic effect, "is that you do not go back to the Adventurer''s Guild. I can afford no delays in this. I will pay you now whatever they have promised you and deliver whatever it is they sought from you. So fear not for your reputation with the Guild. I believe this will be to your advantage, considering your current circumstances. And of course, if you are in need of coin right away, I would be willing to buy anything you have of value at a good price," he continued, his tone even and leveled, with none of its earlier playfulness. "Second, you will take something with you. Something I hold very dear; this part is non-negotiable. Larynda!" he barked the name in a forceful voice. There was a scurrying from somewhere in the back. A creature of some sort made its way towards the Alchemist¡¯s, summoned by his voice. As it came into the light, the grubby and small shape revealed itself to actually be a scruffy child, clad in roughspun clothes of poor weave. Green eyes peeked curiously from behind a mop of dirty yellow hair. However, what caught my eye were its ears, longer than any human''s had a right to be. I almost hissed once I recognized them for what they were. "Nah, I ain''t going," a small childish voice answered. The small thing, having seen my reaction, quivered behind Hamsa¡¯s leg. Small hands made small fists, clenched tightly at the child¡¯s sides. "For the last time, Lynda, dear. Yes, girl, you are. We talked about this before. Please, do not make this more difficult than it has to be," Hamsa replied with a certain parental authority. Like a loosed arrow, the child made to run back to the comfortable safety of the back of the shop, but the Alchemist''s hand shot out like a viper, catching the waif by the collar. Gently, yet firmly, the bald man drew her slight, sobbing form into his embrace. He whispered something into her ear that seemed to comfort her. Releasing her, he stood to his full height, and now that he was no longer stooped and hunched, he cut a more-impressive form. He turned and looked me squarely in the eyes. "You will take my good-for-nothing apprentice with you. She wouldn''t know the difference between Stain-root or a Bitterburn, but still, you will take her with you. This is my price, the only real price for my help," said Hamsa hoarsely, his eyes dampening from more than just the sordid vapors in the air.
New Quest: Escort Larynda to Al-Lazar
It had been such a long time. The new quest notification filled my vision, and I could only mentally accept it before giving voice to my decision. "Very well, I agree to those terms," I accepted resignedly, a new feeling of tiredness seeping into my weary bones. Despite everything seeming to be to my benefit, something rankled me, and my words were filled with bitterness and frustration. Inwardly, I railed against the manipulation of the fates. Everything seemed too convenient, the stars in perfect alignment. What were the chances that something I needed would fall into my lap like this? It stank of a higher intervention. It all felt that something had led me to this choice, which was truly no choice at all. I felt as if I had been played once again by the gods and the simple machinations of man. Book 2: The Alchemists Daughter* Too much of one thing can lead any of us down the path of the many-colored myriad loss. - Well-known Qisnian aphorism. ¡°Why?¡± I rasped. ¡°I must know. Why me? You said you would entrust your dearest possession to a stranger, did you not?¡± ¡°All friends start as strangers. You bear the mark of the Guild, do you not? A strapping man like yourself, and with formidable allies, no less? You have the air about you of a man who has found great strength. Something about you tells me that she of the Two Blades has touched you with her blessing. Also, you are an outlander with no real ties to this city, and I do believe, from the cut of your enemies in the arena, that you harbor a disliking for the iron collar,¡± he put forth. ¡°Only a person such as yourself, a man not born to the Tides, can I trust to see my Lynda safely to the City of Dust.¡± I made a move to refute his claims, but the man simply barrelled on, keeping me off-balance. How on earth was this man so well informed? Was this man there on that fateful day when I made an end of Jongshoi, the boy who had failed to prove himself a man? ¡°Let me give you a little something. A token to show that I mean no ill will. Most of the people here believe you¡¯re dead, you know? All except a mother of a dead young brat. That one thinks you have turned into a ghost. A vengeful specter who preys on innocent blood in the dead of night on your quest for vengeance, or so the rumors go. Though she is only one voice among the many, I would not remain in this place with an enemy like that. Best you make yourself scarce.¡± He paused for a moment, giving me time to form a response. ¡°Why not have her just join the Guild here? I saw an elf, just a few days ago, wandering around free, without a care in the world,¡± I asked insistently, not understanding the Alchemist¡¯s motives. ¡°On the surface at least, the Guild offers a level of protection for their members. But that silver-haired menace, Lanarisa, the elf you speak of, is protected by more than just her affiliation with the Guild,¡± Hamsa said, his refined voice growing irritable. ¡°Surely, it is¡­¡± I began. ¡°Better than nothing, maybe, but is far too thin and fickle of a shield. Have you met that Darcen Tsend fellow? Of course you have. Tell me the truth, do you think that snake of a man is worthy of trust? He did not come to his position by merit alone, I can tell you,¡± the old man snorted. ¡°The Guild, under his leadership, has grown to be very flexible in its morals. ¡®Respecting local customs and culture,¡¯ would be how Tsend would phrase it. No doubt he will weigh the worth of new members against the demands and desires of the local lords. It would take just one upstart to think that an innocent, young half-elven child would be a welcome addition to his hareem. Also, even an ignorant fool knows the price that Elven blood commands on the slave blocks. Even a half-blood like Lynda,¡± stated the Alchemist bitterly, letting the words settle for a moment. ¡°You too, would do well to not be overly-reliant on the protection of the Guild.¡± ¡°I want her to have a better future than she could here in Ansan. Though she is the very embodiment of the word ¡®idle,¡¯ she is also graced by some degree of mental aptitude, and the City of Dust would be a good place for her to spread her wings and find her own path. It simply is not safe for her here. Bah, the amount she eats alone is cause enough for worry. There is no end to the trouble she has caused for me already, I will be relieved once she is out of my hair!¡± he snorted, the lie obvious for all to hear and see. He squinted at me. ¡°I am old, Gilgamesh, or Bzzz¡­¡± What did he say!? For a moment, I thought I heard the whisper of my old name before it was drowned by static. A distant thing, gossamer thin and floating out of reach. I tried to claim it for myself, but the voices whispered in turn that it was but a name. That I should let go. That I should forget. A soft command that was, nonetheless, as strong as banded steel. With that, they focused my mind back to the present. ¡°¡­as you were known, older than you know. Again, my next turn upon the wheel grows close. I want to give her a chance. More of a chance than she would have here.¡± It felt like I was missing something, but I had to keep my attention to the conversation at hand. It was indeed a convincing case that he presented. His motives wedded logic with emotion, but a gnawing feeling in my gut told me something was being hidden from me or that I had overlooked something significant - some detail that was yet veiled. It was almost always the smallest things that caused the biggest amount of trouble. But maybe I was just worrying too much over nothing. Perhaps everything was in alignment. Having already acquiesced to his bargain, I could only nod again in agreement and prayed that the burden placed upon me would not be too troublesome. Looking long and hard at the small girl, I saw that her face was now set into an expression that passably resembled grim determination. ¡°You had best call your companions in, and I will close Hamsa¡¯s Wondrous Apothecary for the rest of the day. There will be gossip among the old wives, but this can not be helped. Be sure to tell your associates to bring in my goods,¡± he said, his friendly tone returning, now that our bargain had been struck, as he went outside. Opening the tent flap, I told my companions of the situation in a hushed voice. Soon after, we began to offload the bounty from the forest into the gloomy shop. Elwin seemed furtive, looking this way and that and, like my earlier self, he probably saw enemies in every shadow. The only issue that arose was when I forgot to reward Patches, for her patience, with another carrot, which resulted in her braying in irritation. Hamsa, seeing the array of bloody loot that we had unloaded, simply raised an eyebrow as I pocketed a simple single-edged knife for my own personal use. ¡°Do you really need any more weapons? Suit yourself, I suppose. Hmm, truth be told, I don''t have any interest in these goods, and I have even less interest in where you got them. Still, a promise is a promise, and I will take them off your hands. I¡¯ll have to speak to Yusuf later¡­¡± the old man nodded to himself, and I could only grit my teeth as a small part of me felt that I was making a mistake in trusting him. After all, I had no idea the true value of our loot. Still, another part of me was glad that forensics had not been developed yet in this world. As we were finishing with our labors, I observed that Elwin appeared unusually troubled by the recent developments. It seemed as though something was gnawing at him, and I could have sworn I heard him murmuring softly to himself. Once we had finished stacking the goods near the entrance, Hamsa lit a small candle on the wooden counter of the shop. Its faint light helped to cut through the gloom, and shadows danced with the flickering light on the cloth walls. More importantly, its fragrant scent helped to ward off the noxious smells that pervaded the inside of the shop. With the help of the half-elven girl child Larynda, the Alchemist placed a small floor table down on the carpet. Hamsa produced a pot of what I assumed to be tea, which the girl poured into small thimble-sized porcelain cups. The alchemist bade us to sit on the floor with him, and his apprentice sat to his side, cross-legged. I noticed that the girl had begun to fidget. It felt strange sitting under the alien and exotic alchemical ingredients hanging across the high roof of the tent as I sipped at the brew. My gaze drifted upward to the purple-colored dried grass, and I could not help but wonder which plant or mystical ingredient had been used to create this tea. My own lips only touched the small vessel once I saw the Alchemist drink from his own cup and, like a ritual, we drank our tea in silence. The liquid was bitter and astringent, tingling the tongue with its crude flavor, but it took some of the edge off the tiredness that haunted my body. ¡°So, what¡¯s this all about?¡± said Elwin, breaking the solemn atmosphere and seeking some confirmation. ¡°As I have explained to your leader, I have a way that you might find easier passage to different climes,¡± Hamsa replied, affecting an air of mystery that grated on my nerves, ¡°And in return, all you have to do is take my apprentice with you. A simple thing, is it not?¡± I could hear Elwin grumbling to my left and Kidu merely snorted. As he did with me, Hamsa told my companions of the mutually-agreeable solution that he offered. He painted a scenario of an easy way across the grass sea, away from the Tides. Crossing the Wastes would be difficult, but with an experienced caravanserai who had made the trip many times, not an overly-dangerous one. He also drew the destination of the caravan in a positive light, creating for us an image of a great coastal city steeped in culture and opportunity. Such were his oratory skills that he even managed to get the taciturn Kidu to grunt and mumble something in his own language in agreement. However, for all of this, Tucker still looked doubtful at the proposal, as cynicism was ingrained into his very being. ¡°Now, for the money! I see that all of this is for the Lurker hides, the Moon Moss, the River Root, and a bit of a welcome extra for Karilla horn. Only problem is, we collected all of this on behalf of the Guild¡­¡± the Rogue began, but Hamsa silenced him with a friendly smile, ¡°You need not worry, as it was I who placed the original orders at the Guild. And of course, some payment for the equipment that you happened to recover¡­¡± the Alchemist replied placatingly, jingling a purse. The tinkling of coin played a welcome tune across the table and caused Elwin¡¯s face to light up in almost comical delight. Hamsa passed me the heavy purse and I counted out the coins, there and then, into three separate, equal piles amounting to eight silver pieces each, and handed the money to my companions. It was a fair sum, even when deducting the one silver coin we had left as a deposit with Taciano. Hamsa just nodded to himself at my actions. Mysteriously, it felt like I had just passed some sort of test. And just like that, one of my side-quests had come to its conclusion. Almost two gold pieces in silver and bronze helped ease some of my financial worries. Also, with this new quest foisted upon me, I doubt that I could successfully complete my quest to warn the Guild of the Echo-Stalkers, and reclaim my deposit. That was one silver lost to the ether. As I spoke with Hamsa, I noticed Larynda sitting silently at the corner of the table, her future decided for her. From the corner of my eye, I saw her shoot the occasional odd look in my direction. I responded with a weak smile, but she looked away and busied herself with adjusting her clothing. Probably not the best of starts. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The Rogue let out a yawn and stood up, announcing, "Well, nature is calling, and I''ve got some business to take care of." He pocketed his silver and made his way out of the tent. This prompted the rest of us to get up as well. Kidu''s massive size caused him to almost knock over the small cups on the table, and I could have sworn his granite expression turned red for a moment in embarrassment. Sighing, Hamsa patted the large man on the shoulder and gave him a smile before whispering something in his ear, causing Kidu to look puzzled. Moment¡¯s later, Hamsa produced a red length of knotted string and offered it to me. "Show this to the caravan master, Laes Harevor, who can be found at the caravanserai by the eastern gates. He''s known for clothing his men and beasts in purple, a symbol of his presumptuous status," the Alchemist snorted in contempt before continuing, "This string is the mark of the favor he owes me. Tell him that you need immediate passage out of the city and will tolerate no delays. If he proves difficult, say these words: ''The teacher instructs.'' He''ll know what it means. Remember, speed is your ally against those who are pursuing you," he said, speaking softly, as he placed the knotted silken red string into my hand. Despite feeling that I was being manipulated¡ªblackmailed really¡ªI gritted my teeth and decided to trust his motives, rather than the man before me, and placed his token into my pouch. In my mind, though I found it irksome, I rationalized that I was killing two birds with one stone. I looked around his shop, searching for anything that might be of use for my long journey ahead. "You might be interested in these," he offered, presenting a wooden case lined with straw, like a sommelier. With a showman''s flourish, he opened the case, revealing three delicately-shaped silver vials nestled inside. A part of me found it amusing, despite the circumstances. Noticing my incredulity, the Alchemist began to explain, "These are mid-grade Mana restoration and Health. The last one is a little special and is often in great demand: a Stamina potion for all sorts of adventures. I¡¯ll have to admit that the flavor is something of an acquired taste, but the locals swear by it," he said with a lewd wink, common to many old men. He pointed at each potion in turn, and informed me that the number of nobs near the lips of the flasks denoted the type of potion it contained. In my opinion, it was a truly ingenious invention, born from necessity. Much better than using fragile glass vials, I thought. Grudgingly, I reached into my pouch and handed him a few pieces of shrapnel in bronze and a single silver piece. I was never petty enough to bargain when faced with quality. The man looked annoyed at my chosen denominations, but nonetheless slipped the coins into the folds of his clothes. ¡°Concoctions such as these, I have a feeling that they can do more than simply restore one¡¯s Health,¡± I opined, trying to get a feel for the limitations of this world. The bald man squinted his eyes. ¡°It is as you say. The Masters of Quas believe the application of Alchemics as varied as the flowers of the field. Is there a particular effect that you are looking for?¡± I casually played with edge of my glove, trying to hide my want. ¡°I was just wondering, if potions can staunch bleeding, set bones, and regrow flesh, would it be possible for them to reverse and stop the sands of time or even to cure the sick?¡± I asked, mixing my true desire in my question. The voices within mirrored my hunger. It was a sign that I was on the right path. ¡°Reverse the sands of time, what a poetic turn of phrase. I like it. You mean, of course, a potion that will grant eternal youth. I have heard of such things. Though their brewing is beyond me. Even the ingredients of such a potion would be a king, no a kingdom¡¯s ransom! They say that pure refined Dust, is one such ingredient. That in the deepest of Dust Dreams all answers can be found. Ah, perhaps in my youth I would have dared to spend time within such a dream¡­¡± droned the old Alchemist. ¡°Refined Dust and Dreams?¡± I cut in incredulously. Without a good frame of reference, the man seemed to be spouting nonsense. Still, something within, the voices perhaps or simple curiosity, prompted me to inquire further, ¡°Please, explain.¡± "Refined Dust, a year¡¯s harvest rendered down into but a few drops. In the Dust Dream, one can find inspiration for both mind and spirit. Perhaps it''s just an addict¡¯s excuse, but enough of my brooding. I¡¯m sure that in the City of the Dust, you will find what you seek, for many are drawn to the riches within its walls. The city attracts wealth, along with men of passion and skill far greater than mine, like a lodestone drawing iron dust," the old man mused, his eyes twinkling with a fresh light as he drummed his fingers on the potion case. "Still, I wonder why someone like you seeks to delay what is yet so distant. When I was your age, I thought I¡¯d live forever." He paused, as if lost in the fog of memory. "Or perhaps your answer lies in the libraries of the University of Quas. But again, just setting foot in that hallowed institution would cost a princely sum. There was once a rumor, long ago, of a man who gained enough knowledge there to cheat death." By the way he went waxed on, I doubted he had any further substantial knowledge on the subject. My questions had harveted nothing more than hearsay and rumor. Those who did not know much about anything at all had the tendency to speak the most. ¡°I see,¡± I answered with an automatic smile on my lips. ¡°As for the why of it, suffice to say that I have learned to deal with problems earlier rather than later.¡± A dark cloud came over the man. ¡°Get your things as we discussed. It is time,¡± the old man said to his apprentice, passing me the case, the emotional strain heavy in his voice. The young girl sniffled for a bit before shouldering a large, unassuming brown backpack that was by the counter. She walked slowly towards the old man, who seemed to have grown smaller. Fussing over her like a mother hen, he took out a long brown headscarf and wrapped it around her unruly blonde hair, with great love. He made sure to cover her ears and face with the cloth, wrapping it around her head like a shemagh from the desert tribes, which left only her jade eyes visible. They were brimming with tears as they looked back at him. Again, the Alchemist whispered something to her, and this time, the dam finally burst. She broke down, and her small shoulders shook with a surging flood of emotion. The old man simply held her for a few long moments before releasing her. ¡°No time like the present, for a hasty man such as yourself. No need for any more dilly or dallying. I leave Larynda in your care. Remember there must be no delays,¡± he stated firmly, a little of his former self returning. The girl dried her tears on the sleeve of her clothes and pushed past me out of the shop. I followed her, sparing a last glance and nod to the eccentric old man before leaving the tent. Despite feeling that my life had taken yet another strange turn, I found the whole thing decidedly mawkish. I stepped out of the shop onto the busy street and into the slightly cleaner city air. Kidu greeted me, a greeting I returned with a nod, and I rubbed Patches across her muzzle. She decided to nip playfully at my gloves in return. But Elwin was nowhere in sight. Looking this way and that, I searched for the fool. Kidu, realizing the source of my distress, scanned the vicinity as well. I felt a tug at my arm and almost snapped in irritation. However, I held back when I saw that it was our little guest. ¡°Should go,¡± she all but squeaked, pointing towards what I assumed was the east. "We''re not leaving here without Elwin," I said firmly, locking eyes with her for a moment before resuming my scan of the crowd. I wondered if using Identify would be helpful in this situation. As I was about to cast the spell, I felt someone tap my armored shoulder. I spun around, only to find empty air. "Well, that''s damn bloody reassuring!" said a familiar voice near my ear. I turned once more, slightly irritated by the childish prank, and found our missing Rogue smiling at me with his cheeky grin. "Elwin, damn you! This is no time for these kinds of japes!" I said, taking a deep breath to restrain my growing anger, and to avoid causing a scene. "I know," Tucker replied, his voice losing its usual playfulness. "This is serious. But first, let me say thank you, Gilgamesh of Uruk. You have my deepest gratitude, truly. If I hadn''t met you, I''d still be wasting away in the slave pits." "What is it, Elwin?" I asked exasperatedly, disliking the direction his formal words were taking. ¡°Across the Whispering Wastes, to the east? I¡¯m sorry, but that is a path that I cannot travel. I need to get back to my family, I need to know¡­¡± he replied, looking me firmly in the eye. "You have no honor, warm-lander. Our life debt has not yet been paid," growled Kidu dangerously, his words carrying the threat of violence like a brewing thunderstorm. I placed a hand placatingly on Kidu¡¯s shoulder, which seemed to calm him a little. "Elwin, I know family is important, but is there anything I can do to persuade you to stay? We¡ªI¡ªstill need you. There¡¯s so much that I don¡¯t know about these lands. Can¡¯t you see? We''re stronger together," I pleaded, as panic started to take root. "The caravan to Al-Lazar will take me too far from my home. I''ve been away from my family for far too long. True, I owe a debt to you, young Gil, but the debt I owe from lost time to my home is stronger. You two wouldn''t understand the weight of being a father. Still, it will be a hard road without the both of you. If fate is kind, I promise to repay all debts I owe. Remember, Gil and Kidu, you''ll always have a friend in me," he said guiltily, his eyes downcast. "Bah, the words of warm-landers are worth less than wind. Take your hollow words and friendship with you, for I have no need of them," Kidu declared, almost growling. Taking a deep breath to control my growing irritation, I decided to handle this like a mature adult. "Go in peace, Elwin Tucker. Let there be no debt between us," I responded formally as the sober truth finally settled in. However, my words were nothing more than a polite lie, for the man could have at least seen me to some form of safety. Surely he owed me that much. Still, thinking to accept this with some grace, I shook his hand and he mustered the courage to face me. Looking him firmly in the eyes, I could see a whirl of conflicting emotions in their depths. I released his hand and turned my back on him. For a fleeting moment, I expected a knife between my shoulder blades - such was the feeling of sudden betrayal. Mastering myself, I tamped down on my emotions. Was this just part of the game? Perhaps Elwin was just following his prewritten script. This might be nothing more than a forced story event. Cursing inwardly, I realized that I should have stripped him of his gear before reaching this point, only to see that this option had vanished. The man had disappeared like a shadow under the sun at noon. I decided to take stock and assess my situation. Crying over spilled milk would do me little good, and I had no time to wallow in my misfortune. We needed to get out of Ansan, and now I had a new burden to worry about. An annoying escort mission. It was time to get moving. Things were not a total loss, however. I glanced at the child to my right, thinking that I might have gained a temporary companion to offset Elwin¡¯s sudden disappearance - though her usefulness remained to be seen. "Child, do you know the way to Harevor''s caravan?" I asked the girl firmly. She looked at me through misty jade-green eyes for only a moment, as she was unable to hold my gaze. I thought I heard a muffled ''Yes,'' but in this situation, I needed a clearer answer. "Speak up, child! I can''t hear you!" I insisted a little sharply, my irritation coloring my voice. "S''not child! My name''s Larynda!" she retorted, suddenly finding her courage, before finally answering my question, "Of course, I know how to get there! Not like some outlander!" I looked around worriedly, hoping that no one had noticed our little exchange. This one, it seemed, had a backbone. Kidu''s expression was almost unreadable, but I could have sworn I saw a hint of a smile. The girl huffed in irritation and led the way, her little legs setting a surprisingly fast pace through the muddy streets. A few minutes later, my anger had finally subsided, and clarity allowed me to think for a moment. I felt a pang of sympathy for her as I realized that perhaps we had both been abandoned this day. Book 2: Poison [Part 1] Mithril, God-metal, or Saint¡¯s Silver in the eastern lands, is as precious as a firstborn royal heir and as rare as a dragon¡¯s smile. As strong as adamantium and as light as freshly-spun silk, a master-forged mithril weapon is a thing of both peerless grace and deadly beauty. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. Leading Patches by the reins and navigating through the afternoon traffic, it took a stressful forty minutes until we finally made it near the east gate. Towards the latter half of our trek across the city, Larynda, carrying her heavy bag, had begun to flag. In a show of kindness, Kidu reached down and shouldered her pack along with his own, much to her relief. I found the whole exchange grating for some reason, but it meant that we had no need to slow down. Elwin¡¯s sudden and off-the-cuff decision, understandable as it was, still stuck in my craw. It would take me a while yet to process the event, for I had other things on my mind. I tried to ignore most of the exotic sights of the city of tents and focused on my singular goal. However, a few moments later, I grew distracted by everything around me, and just for the sake of doing it, I paused to read the sign of a stall on my right, for practice. Thank heavens the local script was a phonetic one. Due to this, I was slowly but surely beginning to grasp even the written forms of the language. Literacy was, after all, one of the differences between savages and civilized men. ¡°Haberdashery,¡± was displayed on a crude wooden sign in front of a stall that was manned by a gaunt woman. In a shrill voice, the old harpy was hawking her bone and horn buttons, as well as some crude iron tools. Satisfied that I understood the sign and was uninterested in her wares, I continued on, putting one foot in front of another, avoiding the dirtier patches of the thoroughfare as I followed our little urchin. With Elwin¡¯s recent betrayal still fresh in my mind, I needed a distraction. To that end, I decided to use Identify on the small girl, wanting to know exactly how much of a burden the old man had placed upon me. I cast the spell out like a net, and the lines of energy found purchase across the child¡¯s form, to feed my mind¡¯s curiosity.
Larynda - Chaos Mage [Human/Elf lvl.5] Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
Health: 32/32 Stamina: 9/21 Mana: 19/19
Looking over the information, I saw that she would fall over in a stiff breeze. However, she had even more Mana than my late friend, Amon Vanes. Was that because of her unique heritage as the spawn of an unnatural coupling? Was I dealing with a precocious little genius? More to the point, what exactly was a Chaos Mage? It sounded suspiciously like a unique and powerful class. As I looked over the information, I bumped into a man, who fell into the mud. He looked up at me and cursed as he got to his feet. Angry and dirtied, he began to reach for a large belt knife at his waist. But something in my expression, or Kidu¡¯s looming presence, stilled him and he simply gathered himself and moved off, muttering. Was Elwin a loose end? Again, what on earth was a Chaos Mage anyway? These worries and questions followed me as the little one led us to an area filled with braying beasts and people from many different races going about their business. Quite a few were different from the locals, the hue of their skin and the cast of their eyes telling of their varied origins. Here I could see a muscular man loading up what looked to be a gigantic snub-nosed alligator with heavy leather bags. These he tied to the spines that flowed along its back on each side with complicated knots. Across from me, I saw a woman berating a child who had strayed too close to the cage of some sort of shadowy creature. The mysterious being trapped behind the bars bristled and gave off an aura of raw menace that seemed to absorb the very light surrounding it. Larynda navigated her way through the organized chaos, pulling us in her wake. Sensing that the Hunter was only a few words from violence, the busy people gave him a wide berth and thus it was easy to follow the girl, even through the press of the crowd. These sights and many more captivated my senses before we arrived in a section of the caravanserai that was positively bursting with royal color. Purple could be seen everywhere, from the tents to the garments that the members of the caravan wore. Even the guards that were lounging beside a small fire sat on purple cushions. Near them was a six-legged lizard beast, whose closest analog, in my mind, would be the ankylosaur from Earth¡¯s ancient past. It had a purple and gold caparison, trimmed with even more gold, and purple tassels adorned the sharp spikes that ran along its armored hide. The beast lowed mournfully, shaking slightly as it smashed its heavy mace of a tail onto the hard-packed earth in a show of irritation at its handlers. A bearded man soothed the beast with gentle words as he rubbed under its chin and fed the large animal a red fruit. All around me was a veritable show of purple and it was clear that we had arrived at our objective. Book 2: Poison [Part 2] Larynda asked a few people the whereabouts of the master of the caravan, Laes Harevor. We followed their terse directions to find the turbaned man sitting on a stool, reading a hefty tome. Upon seeing us, he closed his heavy leatherbound book and placed it into a thick metal-bound chest. He smiled first at Larynda before looking at the rest of our group with a quizzical expression. He was a medium-built man, just past the cusp of his middle years and gone to seed. Laughter marked the corners of his eyes, which sparked with mirth, born from a jest known only to him. His clothes were like those of the Bedouin tribes of the great Sahara, flowing in their elegant cut and stained a faded purple. Hair, once probably thick and dark, was dulled by countless years of traveling under the harsh sun and was beginning to recede. This seemed to add to the length of his face and, combined with his square chin, gave an equine cast to his features. ¡°Ah, honored sirs. What business have you with the Ravens?¡± he asked in a surprisingly high tenor. ¡°You¡¯re Laes Harevor, right!? You look just as fancy as old Ham said you would!¡± squeaked our little package, her voice muffled by the scarf that covered her mouth. ¡°So, child, I ask again of you, what business do you have with me?¡± he asked once more, straightening his back and preening a little over the compliment as he scratched the side of his nose. Larynda, losing some of her earlier verve, now that she had been asked a direct question, nudged my elbow. ¡°We seek passage to the city of Al-Lazar. I have been told that your good company often makes the trip. We wish to join you,¡± I said in my most polite and neutral tone, doing my best to curb my annoyance at the child¡¯s earlier outburst. ¡°You are welcome to join us, the fee is four silvers a head, and since this young one has impeccable taste I¡¯ll throw in two meals a day. Travel rations, mind you. We leave two days hence,¡± he offered with a practiced professional smile. ¡°No, we must leave immediately. It is of the utmost importance. There can be no delay,¡± I said flatly, my voice tight and forceful. ¡°Young man, we have business to attend to, here in Ansan. The caravan does not simply move at the whims¡­¡± the master of the caravan began to bluster. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. As instructed by Hamsa, and not wanting to waste any more time, I silenced him by pulling out the knotted silken string and showing it to him. The man¡¯s eyes grew wide for a moment in apprehension and surprise, but he quickly gathered himself and settled back into a relaxed mien. ¡°That is a Timekeeper Knot. I acknowledge this,¡± he finally delivered, voice monotone as if repeating lines by rote. His hands ran reverently along the length of silk, whispering to himself as if reading some imparted message. The whole exchange had the feeling of a religious ritual. One I was completely ignorant of, no less. He went to his chest, opened its heavy lid, and felt around inside. In a few moments, he found two small delicate crystal vials, about the size and length of my ring finger, and placed one of them into my right hand. The other, the man simply quaffed down before throwing the silk into a nearby brazier that suddenly gave off an acrid-smelling yellow smoke. ¡°The blazes¡­ What is this?¡± I asked incredulously, thinking that I just received some sort of reward from a hidden quest. ¡°We thank you for the message. It is heard. This is the deliverance,¡± he answered me, directing my attention to the vial with his eyes. ¡°What is ¡®the deliverance¡¯ that you speak of? You wish for me to drink this potion?¡± I said, utterly perplexed. Things had moved on from the hallowed air of religious ritual. Now, it felt as if I was part of some theater show. Unfortunately, the script was unknown to me, which served to only heighten my growing irritation. ¡°Ahh¡­ a gull,¡± Laes concluded with a tight smile, ¡°Hamsa, ever was his knotwork flawless. Let me explain. All messengers entrusted with such a task are given the slow kiss of the vow-poison upon their skin. Tailored to specification, the poison itself is harmless for a few hours, or even days. In the old days, if the message reached its intended destination, an antidote would have been given. This is simply the antidote to that poison. Pardon me, but if you are truly ignorant of its significance, then¡­ all I can say is that proud old fool was prepared to make you pay the ultimate price if you reneged on whatever promise you had made with him,¡± he answered, his expression resembling a buck-toothed shark. ¡°The token you have delivered unto me, it was a token the most solemn vow of duty - that imperial messengers of old would do or die to get a message to its destination.¡± In shock, I looked to Larynda, who was loitering to my left. Her eyes met mine for a moment, before she looked away in childish shame. She had known of the poison and said nothing. Kidu grasped the haft of his spear tighter. I knew from the lines of his body and the narrowing of his eyes that he was preparing for violence. Laes¡¯ confession was all the confirmation I needed to know that I had been played by Hamsa. I was getting tired of this world¡¯s childish games, and I felt a sudden surge of the festering frustration that had been growing inside of me. Sometimes if you did not understand the rules of a game, it was often the best choice to flip the board. I had grown since coming to these cursed lands. I had options. Book 2: Poison [Part 3] I kept a forced smile on my face. The smug look of superiority on Harevor¡¯s face, I saw as nothing less than a direct insult that would be remedied one day. Nothing that came out of his perfidious mouth could be trusted, so I searched inside of myself for an answer. My Constitution and Rest? Would that be the answer¡ªcould I simply take the hit? Regenerate damage to my Health by literally sleeping off the poison? Too risky. If the poison was something like a time-delayed cyanide, then I would be finished in mere moments. The risk was too great? Cyanide? What was that again¡­ Should I take the proffered vial? But, that could simply be another trick. Could I simply Heal or Greater Heal myself out of the condition? No, that did not feel right. Then, there it was¡ªthe Purify spell. A staple for Paladins for cleansing certain conditions. However, would a level two spell be enough to counteract the delayed poison that was probably running through my veins? In my fear, I imagined a small twinge in the hand that had held the string. Sweat must have been running down my brow as I kept a fixed expression on my face, and Laes and Larynda looked at me with worried expressions on their faces. Perhaps it was the effect of the poison, or the sudden shock making my brain go this way and that to reach a solution, but time seemed to slow down. Not wanting to show a single card in my hand, I forced magic to come silently, a slow song of a bright light that rushed to my core before spreading to my extremities. Then I felt the burn. My Pain Nullification skill kept the pain at bay, while Purify¡¯s fire coursed through my veins, burning the impurities that dared to intrude into the sanctity of my temple. I acknowledged the pain¡¯s existence, without truly feeling it. I suffered a single point of damage and I hissed sharply from the surprise rather than any suffered hurt, which Laes might have taken for a threat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Kidu¡¯s hand had moved closer to the knife at his belt, a better weapon for dealing out brutality in these close quarters. Something about the spell, the initial imparted knowledge that came with it, told me that magic was successful. Would I have to live the rest of my life, here casting the Purify spell? I shook my head; no, that way led only to paranoia and a slow descent into madness. Time suddenly resumed its inexorable slide to normality, and I simply smiled a smug grin at the caravan master as I handed him back the vial. ¡°Please, you must take it. It is far too early for you to fight the war in heaven!¡± he almost shouted as he tried to refuse it, misunderstanding my actions. ¡°An antidote will not be necessary. But, we will be moving now,¡± my expression and tone, I hope, filled with whatever menace I could contrive. I must have done something impressive, for the world itself rewarded me with a most welcome notification.
You have gained 1 Constitution. You have gained 1 Charisma.
A few more points of Health and Stamina were always welcome. The increase in Charisma, however, was harder to pin down. A puzzling thing to be sure, for I had no idea how, exactly, it aided my situation and ¡®build.¡¯ If, somehow, Charisma affected how much I could influence the people of the world, then they perhaps, in turn, could influence me. Was it some form of passive mind control that stole my agency? A most worrying thought indeed. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! I looked at the ugly caravan master, the wheels in my mind turning at an infuriated pace. Had the attribute aided in bargaining for a faster departure? Or was this simply a result of showing him the poisoned item I had received from Hamsa? I hated variables that I could not categorically measure. Laes simply nodded, absolutely dumbstruck at this new turn of events, muttering something that sounded like ¡®Vanda Venny¡¯ or some such nonsense, before he began shouting instructions at his workers. I took a second to glance in his direction, assuring him with a nod that all was well. This part of the caravanserai turned into an upturned beehive of activity, as men, women, and beasts jostled with each other as they made their preparations for a sudden departure. The caravan¡¯s master had to assure several people that all was well, to encourage them to get back to work to get ready to depart. Getting out of the way of their industry, my small group moved to the side, next to some wooden crates. My heart, now emptied of poison, was filled with thoughts of yet another betrayal. One day Hamsa, there will be a reckoning, I promised myself. Among the whirlwind of activity, I watched Laes as he apologized to a group of men clad in fine orange silk deels and yellow sashes, all of them filled with their own self-importance. Head bowed and both palms pressed against the back of his head, he said something to them in a language I had yet to learn. Soon after he had apologized, one of them pocketed a small purse from Laes. Was that a form of apology in this culture? One of my hands subconsciously moved to the back of my head in sympathetic mimicry before I noticed Larynda looking at me. I lowered my hand, feeling a little embarrassed. ¡°You knew,¡± I said to the girl. ¡°Errr¡­ yes¡­ but old Ham said it would all be fine. His words exact as I remember ¡®em were, ¡®If you don¡¯t dilly-dally with that Gilgamesh fellow, then there¡¯s nothing to be afear¡¯ of s¡¯like¡¯,¡± she piped and sputtered, before looking down at the ground dejectedly, ¡°an¡¯ thank you I guess.¡± I glanced over my Status, blocking everything out except the information that I sought.
Experience to next level 2978/3202
Health: 282/288 Stamina: 56/63 Mana: 12/15
Well, at least the whole ordeal had given me some nominal experience at the cost of three Mana, a fair trade if there had not been the risk of death. Something about the small girl''s demeanor and words tugged a little at the strings of the heart, and I suddenly felt a small bud of sympathy grow. Was this a normal emotion to be feeling towards a person that could have caused my death through lies of omission? A small voice said, in the back of my mind, sharp and oily in its insistence. Abandon the girl, or not? For surely she was to be the albatross around my neck. However, Kidu made the decision for us, as one of his large hands gently patted the little girl¡¯s head, and the unexpected act almost caused her to cry. She looked up at him, and Patches gave her face a slobbering lick, causing her to give out a weak, morose laugh. It was this simple animal¡¯s trust that had convinced me to trust her, too. The creatures that men tame had instincts that could see through base human deception. She would have the benefit of the doubt, for the time being at least. We would have a deep discussion later, once we had put some distance between us and this forsaken city. My quest was not yet over. Book 2: The Albatross [Part 1] ¡°A true master of the sword need never use his sword at all.¡± - The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus circa 520 AC. The company of the Ravens was an orderly picture of controlled chaos. Haranguing and cajoling his people, Laes was able to get his caravan on the move. There was an air of tension, and not a little fear, at the sudden change of plans that seemed to be spurring the workers to greater haste, if not efficiency. I saw some people struggling with loading barrels onto a cart. I could have helped, but I decided it was not my place. I was slightly amused when my inaction caused a pair of workers to scowl at me. Rumors of our departure had spread through the caravanserai, and the mysterious nature of it all had prompted other caravan masters to also make preparations to depart. Snatching up pieces of quickly-exchanged conversation here and there, I heard the rumor grow into an almost living thing, whose growth was further fueled by Laes refusing to give a reason for the early departure. Laes had heard of a lucrative opportunity to the east, the master had heard of a new bandit threat to the trade routes, or the Tides would soon be raising a new levy on departing caravans. All these and more only served to flame the ever-growing speculation to new heights. Laes¡¯ train consisted of large wagons pulled by the great Ankylosaur-like beasts that were later identified to me as ¡®Xaruar,¡¯ affectionately called ¡®Ruar¡¯ by their minders. Despite their somewhat fearsome appearance, they were actually rather docile and even-tempered beasts, and used to their duties. The wagons they pulled were of wooden construction, with lacquered black tiles for roofs. The purple that was painted on their slatted sides, rather than making the caravan look gaudy, actually gave the wagons an easily-recognizable sense of uniformity. So entranced was I by all of this happening before me, that all I could do was watch the people doing the hundred and one things that were necessary for the long journey ahead. I had even forgotten to grill Larynda for more answers, or to consult Kidu on his opinion. ¡°Please, this way,¡± said a harried voice, cutting across the general clamor. I shook my head, shedding my stupor, before taking in the owner of the voice - still a little wary of the whole setup. The caravan¡¯s master seemed extremely stressed, the lines of his face pinched and taut beneath the veneer of calm that he tried to exude. He gestured for us to follow, and so my companions and I went with him. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. We worked our way through the controlled chaos, and it was only thanks to my Dexterity that I narrowly avoided dropping my new helm when I bumped into a large, thick-set man. Collecting the heavy burlap sacks he had dropped, he gave me a scowl, an expression I returned in kind. After half-a-moment, he realized that we were in the company of the caravan master and he went about his way, muttering under his breath. Eventually, we reached our destination, one of the caravan¡¯s wagons in the middle of the train. Laes searched for a moment in his fine clothes for a key, chuckling a bit at some private joke, before he climbed up the small wooden steps of the gate. There, he struggled with a simple lock that refused to turn at first. Finally opening the door, he turned to us and politely announced, ¡°Your accommodations for the Green Road, I hope that they will be to your liking.¡± I sensed that there was a subtle difference in the way that he addressed me, a change in the tone of his voice. Was it due to the recent increase in Charisma, I wondered? Was the knotted silken red string that I had borne really of such importance? I had assumed it to be nothing more than a sort of bargaining chip or ticket in this world, and not some sort of tool to make sure a courier was suitably motivated to reach their destination. Also, by accident, or by design, Laes had yet to charge us his fee. Of course, I had no intention of reminding him. Behind us, a plain, olive-skinned woman going to fat and clad in a dull brown cotton dress offered a greeting and bowed to us. A purple scarf was a slash of vivid color around her pudgy neck, and looking at her face as she rose from her bow, I noticed there was a large ugly black mole with hair growing out of it on the tip of her chin. Was the scarf merely another sign of bondage, or was it more in line with a company uniform? She smiled at Larynda and blushed a little under Kidu¡¯s intense glare before offering to take Patches¡¯ reins. I held up a hand, commanding her to pause, and Kidu and I began to hurriedly remove the beast¡¯s saddlebags. Laes and the woman waited patiently, in the quiet manner of servants everywhere. Politely, she coughed once we were finished to get our attention. This time round, I handed her the donkey¡¯s reins and offered her my best smile. I was only slightly annoyed when I did not receive another notification for my efforts to improve my Charisma. ¡°We will take care of your donkey, good sir. If I may ask - what is her name? That our master of beasts may be able to call upon her,¡± the slave, drudge, or indentured servant asked of me. ¡°Patches. Be sure that she is well seen to, and thank you for your service,¡± I answered, adding the thanks as an afterthought. She simply bowed once more to this and took Patches gently away. I saw her whisper a few words to the donkey, feeding my animal companion a small orange-colored fruit, which caused her to bray in bestial delight. It would seem that the equine was in good hands. Book 2: The Albatross [Part 2] Eager to see my new accommodations, I looked into the interior of the wagon. From what I could see, the insides were plainly adorned, save for the thick rugs on the hardwood floor. It was surprisingly well-lit, with heavy open wooden shutters on both sides that let in autumn¡¯s afternoon light. In one of the corners were two large pails for our use. They were both filled with water and labeled in the local script. One for our daily toilet and one for drinking. It would do me well that I not confuse the two. The clean water reminded me that I had not bathed in many days, my forgetfulness stemming from the fact that my nose had probably grown inured to my own stench. Larynda, I assumed, did not mind in the slightest, thanks to her previous environment. It was not the finest of accommodations, but it was clean and it would have to do. I nodded to Laes and gave him my thanks, which he curtly accepted before he hurriedly headed off to the head of the caravan. I sat down at the bottom of the wooden steps, took off my boots, and shook them free of dirt and mud as best as I could before entering the wagon. My party followed suit, with Kidu having to squeeze his bulk through the small door. The half-elf made her way to one of the corners, placed down her heavy backpack, and breathed a sigh of relief as she flopped onto the carpeted floor. The last to enter was Kidu, who followed her in and placed our things on the carpeted floor before he sat down in the opposite corner. He placed the butt of the spear on the floor, with the shaft resting against one of his wide shoulders, before shifting and adjusting his body to find a more-comfortable sitting position. In turn, I found my own corner to sit in. I luxuriated for a moment in the yielding softness of the carpet that I could sense even through my armor. A few moments later I heard a loud command being relayed down the line of wagons, and sure enough, after a lurch of motion, we were finally on our way. Larynda began to hum a little as she took off her headscarf, and I gritted my teeth in irritation as I caught sight of her ears. They would ever be a bitter reminder of my own weakness, my lack of power when I had faced her people. Noticing my glare, the girl stopped humming almost immediately and just fiddled with her fingers while she looked awkwardly through the open window¡­ This only served to add to my already-tense mood. My hand moved to one of the straps of my armor, to shuck myself from my iron shell. However, moments later, I decided that it was far too early to let our guard down, so I tightened the strap instead. We would probably be facing trouble before the end of the day, so I decided to voice my concerns to Kidu. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Things may take a turn for the worse before this day is over, so we had best stay on guard until we leave this city of slaves and slavers,¡± I said to my large companion in the corner. He shook his blonde hair like a lion preparing for an attack before replying, ¡°It may well be as you say, Gilgamesh. You will not find my spear sleeping in my hand.¡± This was more than enough assurance for me, but there was still one unknown factor in the wagon. ¡°This day may end in blood, little one. Can you defend yourself? This I must know,¡± opened Kidu, almost as if reading my thoughts. I fancied I could see that the anger that was always in his eyes was subsumed for a while by a different, more gentle, emotion. The waif merely mutely shook her head, which just served to add more fuel to my steadily-growing irritation with her reticence. ¡°Even now, you would spout your lies,¡± I said, one step shy of growling, ¡°If we are to protect you, we will need to know the truth about you, Mage,¡± I finished the last with a sneer. ¡°Can¡¯t¡­ can¡¯t do it,¡± A look of shock ran across her face before she held up her hands to her head and shook in trepidation, ¡°The wild magic, Hamsa said never to use it¡­ too dangerous,¡± she pleaded, looking at me with eyes of misty cut jade. ¡°We all must do what we have to,¡± I said firmly, like a parent addressing a child, ¡°Take this,¡± I finished, and threw her a simple single-edged knife that I had appropriated from one of our would-be kidnappers. She drew the blade from its simple leather scabbard with a familiarity I found surprising, as she nodded to herself and to me. ¡°Thank you, not bad! I got my own though,¡± she beamed weakly, a ghost of a smile playing about on her face. Kidu chortled at this before his face grew serious, ¡°If the worse comes to it, best that you take Freedom¡¯s Cut. Better than to be a slave, should Gilgamesh and I fall. Child¡­¡± It took me for a moment to realize what he was talking about, that Larynda should take her own life should the most dire of circumstances come to pass. The girl, too, came to a similar understanding as she clenched her fists and faced the big man with a determined fire in her eyes. Book 2: The Albatross [Part 3] ¡°Child, child, child! Don¡¯t call me child. Sure, I got no fancy name like you lot, but I got a name all the same, Larynda!¡± she retorted sharply. Kidu¡¯s expression changed not one whit, forcing her to answer his question, ¡°I can take care of myself! Stab ¡®em with the sharp bits, right? Also, bein¡¯ that one my parents was an elf, I got a whole lot of life yet to live, so I¡¯d rather use one of my stickers for me rather than on me, thank you very much!¡± With no quick rejoinder of his own, he could only snort in annoyance. I simply found the whole exchange grating. Was the little brat going to be cooperative? Or had I, or Kidu, failed some sort of hidden Charisma check? ¡°Magic,¡± I said simply, ¡°can you do it?¡± ¡°Old Ham¡­¡± she began in answer before I cut her off, seeking to get to the meat of the matter. ¡°I care not one whit for what that doddering old fool says, or thinks. Can you, or can you not do any sort of magic that could be of help to us if trouble finds us?¡± I asked as matter-of-factly as I could, wanting to cut through any further childish protests that she may have offered. By her expression, I could see that she was concocting another pathetic excuse, so I decided a change of tack was in order. No matter how gifted the child in front of me was, I had to remember that she was still just a child. I would give her one of the drugs that all children craved. ¡°Hamsa is not here. Do you not wish to know the limits of your own potential? Here and now, you are free to explore your own powers. Indeed, I am asking you, for our sake as much as yours, to do so!¡± I entreated, hoping that this line of attack would be successful. I could see indecision warring on her face and I was about to reinforce my argument before Kidu delivered the final blow to her caution. ¡°Gilgamesh speaks the truth. He too is walking down the path of the wise. You would do well to follow his example. Fear of unknown things is not a treasure to be held close to your heart,¡± he said gruffly. A part of me despaired at his rough command of the local tongue. For all of his rough delivery, however, it worked. The young girl stilled for a moment in thought, before coming to the decision that Kidu and I had guided her to. She reached into her large pack and took out a few pieces of rectangular paper, about twenty centimeters long and about a quarter of that wide, a brush and black ink, and a writing board. Curiously, I watched her, afraid to break the spell as she furiously wrote down some mysterious, arcane symbols on the parchment. ¡°These are seals. I once overheard the old man talking with one of the customers about using ¡®em to help guide novices safely down the path of magic. Hamsa told me, and made me promise, that I would never use my Mana directly or something like that. So, I like, maybe borrowed a book, and like practiced a bit here and there. These will act as some sort of, sort of, way to shape my Control or something like that,¡± she half-mumbled, her face a mask of concentration as she began to write new intricate symbols onto yet another piece. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°So, I presume you know what you are doing and not just scribbling down some random nonsense?¡± ¡°Guess so, only done it once before though. Comes to me easy enough. ¡®Haps I¡¯m just talented like that,¡± she said offhandedly, as she continued with her work. I moved nearer and observed her more closely. She drew, or wrote, the symbols with a consummate skill that made me believe her earlier claim. Intriguing, I thought to myself. The symbols did not move about in shifting patterns as they did with the Identify scroll I had found when I first came to this world, but they were every bit as esoteric and mysterious. It was a pleasure to watch her brush glide delicately across the paper, a true craftsman at work. There was a passing mention in the book that Elwin had gifted me about Seals, the things that the girl was making now. They were a way to help new practitioners of the arcane arts manifest their chosen element. It was a form of writing their intent for a spell, a sort of magical memo instead of a transference of knowledge, like a magical scroll. They had been alluded to as some form of shortcut for the fast execution of simple and basic spells, to allow a magician a feel for the element that they commanded. Unfortunately, the rest of the description of what they were exactly had been illegible. Still, it was truly fascinating to witness someone making a Seal before my very eyes. As she was finishing inscribing the last Seal with her magical signature, I could see that her features had grown wan and a little sallow, the activity seeming to have drained her. I decided to spend another Mana point to check on her condition.
Larynda - Chaos Mage [Human/Elf lvl.5]
Health: 32/32 Stamina: 3/21 Mana: 0/19
It seemed that the activity had worn the girl out, something I could sympathize with. With shaky hands, she tidily put her things to one side and, with a small triumphant smile, presented to us her completed Seals. ¡°If you can truly use these, then perhaps you may well be of some use, instead of an albatross about my neck, like Elwin,¡± I praised her. Mention of Elwin¡¯s name drew a warning growl from Kidu, who was busy being menacing in the corner. Knowing full well that the carrot was often as important as the stick, I offered the girl some encouragement with a smile, ¡°Good job, now rest for a while and gather your energies. We may need them later.¡± The wagon continued moving, and I looked out into the city of tents. My eyes were drawn to the great Ark at its center that rose above all of the dwellings and small buildings. "Good riddance to this cursed city, and if I should catch any of you unawares, I will happily sacrifice you all onto the altar of my advancement," I said under my breath, bitterly. Her labors finished, I saw the girl fall into an exhausted slumber, a small ball of childish innocence, next to Kidu. Her delicate hands were stained with black ink, and I could tell by her even breathing that the rigors of the day had finally taken their toll. Kidu, too, in the manner of a veteran soldier, had also chosen to rest, and soon dozed off. With only the sounds and sights of the city for company, I was alone with my thoughts. Book 2: The Gauntlet* Surety forces the mind down into ever-narrower channels. Learn to challenge and question everything you have learned. - A Quassian Aphorism. The human mind can grow used to the strangest of things. What was once exotic and interesting can grow dull and mundane. Ignoring the outlandish sights - the alien culture and creatures through my little window to the world, and having seen enough of the city for a lifetime, I closed both the shutters. Suddenly, our wagon stopped, which woke up my large companion, who sprung into a wary half-crouch. We moved near the entrance of the wagon and put our boots on, being careful not to dirty any of the thick carpets. My heartbeat rose as I gripped my weapon tightly. I guessed that we had made it to the city gates. Had the guards discovered that it was I who had murdered one of their number? Part of me welcomed the thought of being discovered - the part of me that looked forward to another release of savagery. Urging myself to be calm, I placed my helm on my head and, picking up my teardrop shield, I girded myself for a possible battle. However, the violence did not come to pass. I strained my ears and heard a terse exchange before the wagons began slowly moving again. Laes and company must be, of course, well-known to the guards of the city, I concluded to myself. Breathing a sigh of relief, I removed my helm and settled down. ¡°It was a disappointing thing that Elwin did. Very sudden,¡± I said, seeing an opportunity to cover for my poor handling of the Elwin situation, now that our new charge was asleep. In truth, however, I had probably just wanted to gripe about something. ¡°Warm-landers are an ungrateful and dishonorable lot. How they survive the first touch of winter in each other''s company, I know not. I would trust them with nothing. Only promises of gold and silver have weight with them. Honor and bond-debt has little meaning to the lands that have known no tests. Elwin Tucker¡¯s path is not the way of honor for men. Though you said for him to go in peace, I wish for him to know none,¡± commented the wildman. Elwin¡¯s departure must have shaken him a little, as he was positively loquacious. It was a naive way of thinking, that his own culture was pure and full of honor. Having thought about his tale, I could only conclude that he had been a victim of his own elder¡¯s vicious manipulations. Oh, Kidu, dishonor, manipulation, and betrayal could take many forms. First Durhit had betrayed me somewhere in the mines, and now Elwin had abandoned me. Abandonment and betrayal, these were my lot. ¡°What do you think of our new bundle?¡± I asked, pointing to the resting girl and steering the conversation down a new path. Talk of Elwin had done nothing but raise the levels of my anxiety. ¡°First time I have met eyes with one of the First, in a friendly setting, of course. Brings me memories of my sister Aruru. They had a similar way with the weaving of words. She too, was a Windspeaker. Not strong in the Way¡­¡± ¡°The Way?¡± I interrupted, thirsty for any knowledge of the arcane. ¡°You Warm-landers would call it magic, or witchery. To us it is simply the Way,¡± he answered succinctly, in his curt manner, before continuing, ¡°But skilled little Aru could read the path of air and tell us of storms long before their coming. She had the weight of great honor, and much of the Tribe, with the guidance of her gift, have seen many winter¡¯s ends and new springs,¡± he finished proudly, with a spark of something other than the anger that forever haunted him. We were headed to new climes, and a bud of optimism grew, despite the poor soil of our situation. Whatever dangers I would face, I would face them with Kidu¡¯s spear by my side. A dark moment came when I remembered Elwin leaving us, and I swiftly forced myself towards a more-positive line of thought. ¡°Tell me more of life in the North¡­¡± I asked, a childish curiosity from a different time entering my voice. ***** Wrestling with Kidu¡¯s grasp of our common language, I gleaned little new information about the harsh life in the north, except for some details about Kidu''s immediate family. His parents had departed this life when they were still quite young, and Kidu confessed to only have a few vague memories of them. The tribe had taken both children under its wing, and every member of the community acted as a parent to the pair. This was the way of life in the north, where death could strike unannounced from any number of directions. During our lengthy conversation, which required constant coaxing of details from him, I sensed his deep longing for his family. I noticed his particular kindness towards Larynda, and realized it could pose a threat if he projected such misplaced feelings onto the newest member of my group. It simply would not do for him to have mixed loyalties. Hours passed, the monotonous rhythm of the wagon traversing the flat, open grassland rendering my senses dull. It gave me time to reflect, and I could not help but dwell on the Alchemist¡¯s words. In this world of fantasy and magic, Alchemy could perhaps offer me what all the science and knowledge of my old world could not. I cursed myself for not pressing him more on the matter. But why was I becoming so obsessed with avoiding a death that was still so far off? A subtle whisper turned the question over and over, looping it endlessly in rhythm with the wagon¡¯s rocking. Eventually, the question faded, dismissed as unimportant by the voices and I. It was enough that I had a goal. As time passed, the light dimmed into a beautiful palette of amber and honeyed reds, signaling the sun''s descent. A call for a halt echoed down the line of wagons, and our vehicle gradually rolled to a stop. Minutes later, we heard a soft knock on our door. "Good sirs!" a rustic male voice called out rather loudly. I opened the wagon door to find an elderly man, his beard a snowy white. He had a broad-brimmed leather hat clasped in his hands. I gave him a once-over, then waited for him to continue. ¡°Sirs, Mr. Gilgamesh sir. I am¡¯s your driver, Ables be my name. We¡¯s be stopping for the day. I was told to tell yer all, that after we get things a settled, they¡¯ll be a dinner for yous and all,¡± he finished, bobbing his head in punctuation. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°Thank you, Ables. I am much obliged to you. Thank you for driving us,¡± I said as pleasantly as possible, trying to grind out a Charisma gain. However, my efforts proved futile, as the gods or systems of this world didn''t seem to find it in their interest to grant the reward of an attribute gain. "Such a fickle thing," I thought, bitterness creeping into my mind as I hopped off the wagon, the metallic clatter of my steps echoing outside. Ables gave me a curt nod before heading to the front to unhitch the wagon¡¯s six-legged beast of burden. Following my exit, a hulking giant of a man squeezed through the doorway, soon followed by a bleary-eyed half-elven girl. It was genuinely refreshing to stretch my legs on the green grass, now imbued with a reddish-gold hue - a parting gift from the setting sun. Although our journey had been through relatively flat terrain, the wagon ride was anything but smooth. I was still unaccustomed to the rolling motion of the vehicle. In the world I came from, I''d never suffered much from motion sickness, and although I didn''t feel truly ill here, the entire experience was far from pleasant. As I stretched, feeling the restrictive influence of my armor on my range of motion, I observed the bustling caravaneers attending to their tasks. They had arranged their twenty wagons into a defensive circle, and had begun dismantling them for the night. To my eyes, it was as if a mobile village had spontaneously sprung up on the plains. The beasts of burden were being secured, and tasks related to feeding and settling them were being efficiently handled. The members of Harevor''s caravan were experienced, evidently, swiftly establishing the camp with the early stages of a large campfire at its center. Clearly, Laes Harevor the caravaneer ran a very tight ship. Stern-looking guards were positioned around the perimeter, and torches were set up in anticipation of the approaching night. Twilight soon turned to night and the moon was but a slender crescent in the sky, stingy with its illumination. In several instances, instead of ordinary torches, men used fist-sized chunks of Zajasite. Their familiar blue light dulled the growing darkness, yet beyond the azure circle lay a deep purple that my eyes couldn''t penetrate. I found myself wondering about the potential dangers lurking on these starlit plains that necessitated such stringent security measures. Glancing to my left, I saw Larynda, her eyes wide with fascination at the caravaneers going about their duties. A look of childlike wonder was etched on her face as she watched the scene alongside my companion, Kidu. I observed that, despite the brisk pace and occasional mishaps, not a word of genuine anger was spoken among the industrious people of the caravan. Every man, woman, and child had a duty and a purpose, and they carried out their tasks with the efficiency of bustling ants. Truly, it was a lesson in unity and efficiency. Smiling, I attempted to twirl one of my daggers around in my hand, and succeeded - a feat I would have found nearly impossible before. Even through the leather of my gloves, I was acutely aware of the blade, its balance, its motion. I could almost sense my improved Dexterity compensating for the shortcomings of my underdeveloped muscle memory. I wanted to gauge my progress in this bold new world. Juggling a single blade, I was unconcerned by the risk of accidentally hurting myself. After all, between my Healing Magic and Pain Nullification skill, there was little to fear. Was this what it meant to step onto a path where ordinary human concerns ceased to matter? Next, I introduced another blade, barely missing a beat. To make things interesting, I added another. Three shimmering blades formed a rotating steel circle as they spun from my hands. I started to sense, rather than see, the daggers in the dim light. Yet, the system still did not grant me an increase in Dexterity or Throwing. Was I beginning to plateau? "That''s not half-bad!" the half-elven child chirped. Despite myself, I felt a little warmth at the simple praise and stole a moment to look at the child. Her eyes glowed with interest, as though I''d just performed some grand magical feat. I instantly dreaded the question I was certain would follow. "Can I try?" the little girl squeaked. "That looked well-ace!" Part of me wanted to correct her language, but the larger part simply didn''t care. However, in response to her request, I knew I should let her down gently. After all, since she was capable of magic, it would serve me well to see that she viewed me favorably. "Reaching this level of skill requires practice," I said, a trace of smug pride coloring my voice as I smiled down at her, "As a beginner, you could hurt yourself practicing with real blades. It''s better for you to start with something else... like rocks, for instance." "I don''t see any rocks around here." she stated flatly. "I''m sure we can find something suitable. Let''s take a stroll around the camp and see what we can find," I suggested cheerfully, then turned to Kidu, "Kidu, would you mind guarding our wagon? I''ll accompany the little one to scout out the camp!" "Take care, Gilgamesh of Uruk. Don''t trust too readily. Rest assured, though, my spear will remain here, unsleeping. But it is best you not take too long," he responded, a rare smile gracing his face as he looked at the half-elf. I walked off with the girl amidst the bustling activity, taking care to match my pace with hers. Occasionally, I''d nod in apology when either Larynda or I inadvertently obstructed a worker. In our search, we roamed around the camp over the course of about half an hour. Near one of the wagons, bathed in a circle of blue light, a group of children, free from their chores, blended play with martial training. Two boys, likely between the ages of ten and twelve, were laughing as they swung wooden staves at each other, exhibiting minimal skill but much enthusiasm. Their sporadic shouts of pain and laughter punctuated the scene. We both watched their duel, waiting to see who would ultimately triumph. However, after a minute or two, my patience wore thin. They possessed something I wanted, and so I decided to intervene in their practice. "Hello there," I began, gracing them with a small smile and focused my attention on the larger boy, his hair cropped short and his skin rendered a spectral blue by the crystal¡¯s light. The pair of boys scrutinized us warily, and noticing my warlike appearance, they instinctively took a step back. Perfect, I thought to myself. A good starting point, rooted in strength. "Bravo! That was an impressive duel,¡± I exclaimed, giving them my most winning smile. ¡°Who are you sir¡­¡± one of them began before I cut him off, his voice quavering with incredulity. ¡°I''ll get straight to the point - I''d like to purchase those staves from you," I said, adopting my friendliest tone. "Sorry, sir, but we need these for our practice," replied the smaller boy, a slight, inconspicuous figure of little significance. "Name your price, and I''ll pay it. And you would do well to remember that I am a friend of Laes," I said firmly. The two boys began to confer among themselves. "A bronze each would be fair. These practice staves are made of fine wood from¡­" began the larger boy. I thought I could see his excitement growing at the potential profit to be made at my expense. I silenced him by raising my hand, removed one of my gloves, and counted out two bronze coins. I handed a coin to each of the boys, who in turn handed me their practice weapons, their faces etched with disbelief. While I was essentially paying for sticks, I found that I didn''t mind too much if I could get this interaction over and done with swiftly. Talking to a few minor characters was testing the limits of my patience for this little side quest. Also, much to my chagrin and despite my focused effort, this exchange did nothing to improve my Charisma. ¡°Come Larynda, we had best return to our wagon,¡± I suggested to the girl, hiding my annoyance at the rigamarole of doing side activities to build up some favor with a new character. She perked up a little at the mention of her name before her shoulders settled down. I could not help but notice her look back at the boys, who were now chasing each other around the wagon, a flash of envy in her eyes as we made our way back to Kidu. Book 2: A Heros Burden ¡°On the road to perfection, a warrior travels not by compromise.¡± - The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus circa 520 AC. The aged man pondered the peculiar turn of events, wondering what had possessed him to act in such a manner. Was it some lingering trace of the prophetic visions that had haunted him in a past life, or had he succumbed to the wiles of a capricious strand of fate? A myriad of memories flooded his mind, threatening to overwhelm the present with the weight of the past. With a heavy heart, he retrieved a stool and settled by the counter, exhaling a long sigh filled with the burden of his accumulated years. But the breath soon devolved into a deep, guttural cough, ominous and foreboding. The taste of iron flooded his mouth, a sure sign of his impending doom. The old man was well aware that his time was drawing to a close, a long-anticipated death that no potion or remedy under his command could forestall. Perhaps there existed a priest of sufficient power at one of the Great Temples, if the ancient ways still held sway in this age. But such a path lay beyond his means, and he dismissed the thought as an idle fancy. Death had long since lost its veil of terror and mystery, for he had died and been reborn countless times. It was the reawakening of his oldest and most formidable foe that had triggered the unsealing of his memories. The mere presence of his enemy had activated the mental triggers that encircled his soul, lifting the pall of confusion that had shrouded his recollections of the past millennia. He greeted his adversary as one might greet an old friend, with a familiarity born of a long history of conflict and struggle across the ages. So very tired was he, weary beyond measure. For even the mightiest of human souls were not fashioned for the curse of eternity, nor the burden of safeguarding an entire race. The old man laughed to himself. Hero¡ªthey had bestowed upon him the title that carried the weight of the world, the burden of all their hopes and dreams. But in truth, it was nothing more than a mantle of responsibility that they had thrust upon his shoulders, to absolve themselves of their own guilt. Still, he loved them. All of them. For he had been all things, from the humblest of peasants to the most-powerful of emperors. Humanity had needed a god, and he had walked among them and answered the prayers of a thousand voices with fire and newly-discovered cold iron. At the height of his power, he challenged even the dark shadow cast by the wings of the ancient dragons. Tired, so tired. He wished his time upon the wheel would end. It was a selfish thing, but this time he would no longer place the weight of one life against the needs of the many. For the first time in centuries, the old consciousness felt a glimmer of an old emotion - hope. A scant few days ago, he had tasted some of the memories of his old enemy, the Great Hunger. Like himself, his enemy had paid the price of the long years, growing lax and weak, his mental defenses nothing more than paper against the old Alchemist¡¯s storm. However, what he saw filled him with a budding hope for a final victory - his adversary, the man that had walked into his shop looking for his humble potions, was a human. His enemy for the first time had chosen a human incarnation. Humanity did not need borrowed magic to thrive. He saw it in the memories of his foe, of a people that could conquer the stars themselves. All that humanity needed was to be tested, to stand on its own two feet without the meddling of false gods. The people of the North had been correct all along. His enemy¡¯s victory would spell the death of this world. Eventually. But it would mean the death of all magic in this world first, and more importantly, the end of the other races who were fatally-attuned to the song of Mana. It was an ending that would be measured in eons, a good bargain if there ever was one. It would conclude his endless cycle of death and rebirth and give him the sweet silence of the void. Furthermore, it would permit a free and unfettered humanity to reign supreme without any contest. The ancient covenants that bound his soul could not be directly denied, but they could be bent to serve his purpose. He could not help an avatar of the Great Hunger, but there was nothing binding him not to accept his enemy¡¯s help. Providence had provided the most-convincing of coincidences. Instincts and memory honed through countless ages spiked in warning as he sensed a new unwelcome presence. Sending tendrils of thought out into the night, he could taste single-minded murder in the air. Murder of the child of their prophecy. His adopted daughter in all but name. This he would not stand. He had burned whole kingdoms in ages past for a similar slight. He took a simple unmarked blade from under the counter. It was an unremarkable thing of only passing quality. Almost the length of a grown man¡¯s stride, it had a worn leather grip for both single and two-handed use, and was topped with a simple straight guard that protected the hands. The dull, heavy gray, single-edged blade had no fuller and ended in a sharp tip that could be adequately used for a thrust. Its thick spine gave the blade some heft, and a plain leaden pommel gave a reasonable balance. It was a workman¡¯s weapon. Nothing more, nothing less. He lit a candle in his shop, the many lives he had lived superimposing themselves for a moment against his current reality with this simple action, and sighed once more at what could not be. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the tent into the dull glow of the city, old eyes straining against the gloom. The man cursed himself slightly as his eyes adjusted. The moon was a thin crescent in the sky, a blade moon in the old tongue. From the purple darkness at the edges of the glow of light that ringed his shop, seven shapes appeared, confident and sure, all pretense of stealth put aside in the presence of a simple old man clutching a common sword. From the way they carried themselves, as the grass was green, they were of the First Children. They were of the elves. ¡°Where is the girl, day spawn? We know that she is your ward.¡± said a feminine voice, musical and lilting in the common tongue. Her tone was at odds with the threat implied. Even in the poor light, her golden beauty almost shone like a beacon. It took a master¡¯s skill to suppress the tic of annoyance that suddenly flared within him. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The old man simply smiled in mock stupidity, causing the voice¡¯s owner to quiver in suppressed frustration. So hasty were the young, he observed. So easily-provoked. He would have to draw this out for as long as he could. ¡°It would be well for you to tell us what we need to know,¡± said a sure voice, a touch deeper. Steady, from a veteran of a hundred battles. And, like the old man, the voice sounded tired. The elderly man adjusted his dirty spectacles and looked over the man, for it was a man, the wider shoulders and thicker muscles spoke of this truth. In the beggar¡¯s light of the moon, he cut a fine figure, his features marred only by a jagged scar that ran across his face. A traveler''s cloak of fine quality hid most of his form, but the man could draw from the well of deep experience, and he could see that this group was finely-equipped and armored. However, what caught his attention, in truth, was not the scarred man, but the weapon that he fingered at his side. The grip was delicate and well-made, with a heavy metal pommel. Running along the top half of the scabbard was inscribed the ancient design of the mantis. ¡°Please¡­ I am just a humble Alchemist. I know naught of what you speak!¡± said the old man, adding a rasping cough to help bolster his show of weakness. ¡°I grow tired of this¡­ we are wasting our time here. End this thing and we will follow her spoor with another¡­¡± said the golden one, frustration lacing her tone. ¡°I would know what it takes to earn a mantis-marked blade in this age,¡± said the old man in perfect Elven, mocking the threat he faced with a stupid smile still plastered on his face. On the inside, he seethed. His forbearance was at its limit. Suddenly, there was a rasping of metal, as swords left scabbards and glinted silver in the night. The man could not help but smile; it took so little to provoke the young in their haste. The scarred man commandingly held up a hand, his sword still resting in its marked scabbard, stopping the group. ¡°I find it hard to believe that one among the day spawn could learn our words so well in a single lifetime,¡± he said to the old alchemist in Elvish, testing, his voice filled with uncertainty. ¡°I find it hard to believe that standards have fallen so low¡­ for a boy to bear the sword of a master,¡± the old man countered, seeking to stir an ember of anger. ¡°Hahaha! The jest of the day spawn is ever the source of amusement. Too long have I had to hold my tongue. Lorsan, let this animal have the honor of wetting your sword with his lesser blood,¡± responded the blonde elf, voice aristocratic and full of imperious command, in her native tongue. Her ethereal beauty was wasted as it twisted in harsh spite. ¡°My lady Arimea¡­¡± the scarred elf Lorsan began in rebuttal. ¡°Ever have I heeded your counsel. You will not ignore the insult to your school and you WILL not ignore this command,¡± her voice rising as she fumed. ¡°As you wish, my lady,¡± sighed Lorsan as he acquiesced. He looked at the old man before him with regret before addressing him, ¡°You probably will not comprehend, but I will make this as quick as can be. Your short lives are already filled with so much pain.¡± ¡°The wolf does not grieve the hare¡¯s death,¡± said the Alchemist, quoting himself from a bygone age. The scarred elf¡¯s reaction was instantaneous and ferocious. With the speed of thrown lightning, he closed the distance and drew his sword with a master¡¯s smoothness. The delicately-curved blade drew a silvery arc in the night that aimed to part the old man¡¯s head from his shoulders. The elf suddenly looked incredulous, as his blade met nothing but air. Next, a sharp crude thing, filled with the pathetic human¡¯s murderous intent, descended upon him in a swift counterstroke. Mortal-forged steel met god-metal in a clash of sparks that sang into the night. What master smiths would say would be a poor contest of blades was instead an even match. For even the simplest of weapons, when wielded by a true master, is the deadliest. For the first time in centuries, the Elven swordmaster felt the niggling essence of doubt grow fresh in the pit of his gut, as he was suddenly on the back foot. It was not a welcome feeling, and he focused completely on his defense, attempting to weave a pattern of silvered metal to keep his opponent at bay. Suddenly his eyes lit in recognition, a tale told in the blood of elven shame. He spat out a curse in desperation, ¡°It is the Hwanda Heveni, the sum of all men! Help me, you fools!¡± Unused to being commanded, the leader glared, before she started to chant, her voice growing serious as she sang to the spirits, threading their Mana into the shape of a spell. The old man merely smiled and raised a hand and spoke the words of power that gave shape to his rejection of her Control. Her spell died on her lips and she could only look on with shock at the challenge continuing to unfold. The others had added their own weapons to the contest of steel; though not of the precious god-metal, their arms were finely-crafted, and their blade song almost as deadly. Still, they were lesser weapons, wielded by those who thought themselves more than men. It did not make a difference, as the old man simply weaved among them with a confidence born of the mastery of the years. His forgotten skills blossomed into a flurry of strikes, light as a petal but with the weight of the centuries behind each blow. The old man seemed to know what they would do almost before they did it, as if reading their minds. His control of the circle of his weapon was peerless, his form without compare. The old man had tapped into the Berserk, a violent thing that fed off mankind¡¯s most primal nature, drawing every last ounce of strength from his failing body. All who walked the path of the Berserk were taught to hold back the seething lava of their hot rage, to retain some vestige of control of their actions. They were wrong of course, he thought to himself; you had to stoke the flame so high that it turned white-blue, cold, and calculating. But this incarnation was not young, and his body, already near death, was flagging. He did not care one whit. He just needed to make sure that he slowed or weakened them as much as possible to give his ward a chance. His soul sang in joy at finally being able to fight for its own selfish reasons. He surprised one of the elves by hitting them with Lotus Palm, one of the open-handed techniques of a style long lost to the mists of time. The force of the blow was transmitted through armor and ruptured the internal organs of his target. The hapless elf died coughing on his blood, the shock of his failure distorting the features of his handsome face. The old man surprised another with a prepared spell, causing the earth at the elf¡¯s feet to grow slick, and she all but fell on the alchemist¡¯s blade. Yet another he simply brained with the back of his sword, the heavy spine of his blade smashing against a hidden helm. With the last of his strength, he aimed a dolorous blow at the elven swordmaster, bursting through his guard and sheathing his weapon in the elf¡¯s gut. Then, suddenly he felt a sharp stab of pain from behind as the last of his strength left him. He had forgotten to pay attention to the Spellsinger. A weak smile crossed his face as he looked down to see the spike of ice erupting out of his chest. Hamsa the Alchemist¡¯s last thoughts, in this turn of the wheel, were filled with regret and grim satisfaction as the flame he had started finally caught and his shop went up in a burst of alchemical fire, a beacon for the rest of the city. Book 2: Shaping [Part 1] In the days of yore, when our forefathers roamed the untamed lands, they were beset by trials and tribulations at every turn. Theirs was a state of perpetual loss and unremitting suffering, and yet it was in those primordial epochs that our greatest triumphs were wrought, for they were forged in the crucible of the world, and honed to a razor''s edge by the very forces that sought to break us. To walk the path of the sword is to subject oneself to the most grueling of trials, to cast off all that is superfluous and to lay bare one''s very essence. It is to embrace the void, and to become more by becoming less, shedding all worldly trappings and vanities in pursuit of the ultimate truth. - The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus circa 520 AC. We wandered back, and found Kidu looking pensive as he sat on his heels. He met us with a simple grunt. Bathed in the glow of the torchlight, he resembled an armored bear. "Hail, Kidu the Raider!" I greeted, in a jesting tone, a friendly smile gracing my lips. "I see you''ve returned with the spoils of war. Who did you spar with this time? Tested your deadly flail?" he retorted, his voice deep and gravelly. "With coins, and I can only report that they had me at a disadvantage," I replied, "But I hope to gain something from my monetary loss, a most dire situation. Our young friend Larynda needs something to occupy her restless mind and body. Maybe learning a little of the path of the spear would serve her well," I chuckled, tossing him one of the staves. Turning to Larynda, I noticed a hint of annoyance on her face, which coaxed a quiet chuckle out of me. "It''s about time you earned your supper," I mused, lobbing the other stave towards her. Amon Vanes had significantly shaped my belief of not depending solely on magic. Focusing only on her magical prowess would not serve her well, as a degree of martial skill was necessary on the challenging road on which we trod. Furthermore, with our team one man short, neither Kidu nor I could protect her all the time. She fumbled for a moment, almost missing the catch, as if the shaft of wood was a live snake. However, she was finally able to tame the beast and shot me a petulant look, which I chose to pointedly ignore. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "I leave Larynda in your capable hands, Kidu. I need to discuss plans with the caravan master, both for the immediate future and for tonight," I informed the northman. Without warning, he struck at the girl, but with none of his usual liquid speed. Larynda, to her credit, dodged the blow. I could see an intense look of concentration as she counter-attacked with her own practice staff. Kidu simply let her attack him, quick in his defense but slow in his attack, and soon the sound of wood striking wood began to pick up in its rhythm. Noting that my work here was underway, I turned away to see to my own business. I would have to remember to cast an Identify spell on Larynda later, to see if one training session had been effective. Walking away from our wagon, I sought for the woman drudge, who had taken away my donkey, for information on where I could find Laes. I found Patches a few minutes later, happily munching on what I assumed to be oats alongside some placid ankylosaurids. Fascinating creatures, I mused, truly marvelous. Save for the three pairs of limbs, the resemblance to the creatures from the ancient past of my world was uncanny. I simply couldn''t resist casting an Identify spell on one of these six-legged beasts.
Xaruar [Lesser Proto-Dragon lvl. 10]
Health: 462/465 Stamina: 65/103 Mana: 2/2
The categorization of these creatures was shocking. Naturally. Of course this fantasy world would have dragons, I chuckled, a little bitterly, to myself. This new discovery only added to my general stress. If these were the ''lesser'' and ''proto'' versions, then I had no desire to face ''true'' dragons anytime soon. Yet another peril to add to the growing list of things that could potentially end my life. Still, the people in this world somehow managed to survive, and I would do the same. On the bright side, they seemed to use these creatures as everyday beasts of burden, so there was some comfort in that. I gently rubbed my donkey''s forelock and took the time to look her over, just enjoying being in her simple company. Engrossed in her meal of oats, she barely registered my presence. After a few minutes spent affectionately petting my companion, the drudge who had taken Patches before, approached me. "She is a good creature. Quite intelligent and very well-behaved. Oh yes, Master Harevor told me to inform you that the evening meal will soon be ready. I will see to the rest of your donkey¡¯s care," she said, bowing low in a clear gesture of polite dismissal. I took the hint, returning her bow and voicing my thanks. Then I remembered I still had business with Laes. The old slattern had almost tricked me. "Speaking of Master Harevor, could you tell me where to find him?" I inquired. "Sir, you can likely find Master Harevor in his tally wagon, yonder," the drudge answered, gesturing towards a distinct wagon embellished with gold paint on its edges. I offered another bow and repeated my thanks before heading towards the wagon. Although I was making good progress, I became distracted. Involuntarily pivoting towards the scent of cooking, I found myself losing a few moments. People flowed around me, and realizing I was in the way, I hurried towards Laes¡¯ wagon. Book 2: Shaping [Part 2]* Eventually, I reached my destination and rapped my gloved knuckles on the door. Once, twice, and then on the third knock, a familiar tenor voice echoed from within. I opened the door, climbed the steps, and went inside. ¡°A good evening to you, master Gilgamesh of Uruk. To what do I owe the pleasure?¡± said a busy-looking Laes, glancing up only to confirm my presence, from a small desk bolted onto the floor of the vehicle. The interior was filled with all sorts of things, foreign and exotic. A large chunk of Zajasite hung from a chain attached to the ceiling of the cabin, its luminescence a step above the stones that had been handed out to the guards and sentries outside. In a corner were the horns of some sort of creature. Hanging over them were a pair of delicately-curved swords in scabbards made from shimmering scales. Noticing my interest, Laes decided to comment as he continued to work, ¡°Shearwater blades from the old Land of Streams. I doubt their like can be found anymore.¡± ¡°Ah, that is interesting. May I?¡± I inquired as I moved closer to the weapons. Laes simply nodded, giving me permission, and I drew one of the swords halfway from its scabbard. Near the guard, at the base of the blade, was a highly-stylized emblem of a strange, yet familiar, insect. The metal itself was not the silver of sharp steel I had been expecting, but a dull yet stately bronze. Only a ceremonial antique, I concluded to myself as I put the weapon back in its place. Not a potential upgrade. ¡°Magnificent. Wonderful pieces. However, to appreciate such fine weaponry is not the purpose of my visit. I wish to ask you about the plan for the road ahead. I have not traveled this way before and I would know of it,¡± I asked simply, wanting to cut into the meat of the matter. ¡°Yes, of course. We will be traveling along the Green Road through the Whispering Wastes. I would have liked to have stayed in the city of tents for the first rains, but as you can see, a measure of haste was forced upon us¡­¡± he explained, looking at me straight on in question. When no answer was forthcoming, he simply continued with his explanation, ¡°We will make for the Rump, the hills across the horizon. There, we will wait out the rains of the Weeping. Only after the rains, can we travel across the Wastes. Our Ankhset feels the call of her element too strongly to make an earlier crossing, so now we must wait for the rains to pass. I fear she is on the last steps of her path and the finding of her bliss. We must shelter her from it, as much as possible in any case. I owe her that much at least.¡± The master of the caravan spoke to me as if I was an experienced hand, and knew what he was talking about. Had he grown soft in the head, or was throwing random things at me to gauge my reaction? Could it be that he believed I knew something that he did not? Something that could shed some light on this dilemma that he now faced? He paused for a moment, looking as if he was considering a different possibility. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. I kept my face as devoid of emotion as possible as he continued with his complaint, ¡°Her children are still far too inexperienced to be of much use. Bah! Crossing the Wastes before the Weeping finishes, even with the most-powerful mages from the college, would still be suicide. Of course, any who cross without proper preparation would be but fodder for the great worms,¡± he griped, the stress and weight of decision evident in his voice. ¡°I see,¡± I said, ruminating on his words and feigning an understanding I did not possess. All of these terms were confusing, and they would require further explanation at some point. But for some reason, I did not want to show my ignorance to Laes. Was this foolish male pride, of all things? Still, more information was required, so I decided to ask a pertinent question, ¡°Tell me of the Wastes. I have never heard nor seen their like first-hand.¡± ¡°Ah, the Wastes,¡± sighed the middle-aged man, his brow furrowing in thought before putting down his long feathered quill, ¡°I have traveled across the bone sands more times than I had a wish to. The Dust trade is a profitable one, but the route one must travel to acquire it is oftentimes fraught with danger. Still, many brave the great desert, for the Dust of Al-Lazar is in great demand across all the lands and can command a high price. A warning to you: partaking of the Dust is a joy unlike any other, but leaves the soul empty, save for a yearning that can never be fulfilled. The world will seem to be duller, a little more hollow, unless you take in more and more of the Dust. Ah, in my youth, I did many questionable things in the pursuit of wealth before I found¡­ no matter. Just know, I barely trade in that substance now. Forgive me this digression. I remembered the Alchemist¡¯s words. ¡°But¡­ this Dust, surely it has more uses than simply a way to fill one with joy. I have heard rumor that it has other properties,¡± I decided to interject. ¡°That is true. Dust has ever been used in many Alchemics that affect the condition of the mind. Refined, I have heard that it can give one access to the deeper Dust Dream. A Dream so deep, that the functions of the body for the one within it while the mind is free to contemplate on the deeper mysteries. A fair few fools have even said that refined Dust is an ingredient of the fabled elixir of youth. A foolish notion, all the Dust does is cloud the mind with pleasant thoughts. But, enough of the Dust, we were speaking of the crossing the Wastes,¡± he said, steepling his fingers, a tension filling him and adding itself to the air of the wagon. I was intrigued and wanted him to elaborate on the Dust, but the man pressed on without pause. "The perils of the Wastes are manifold, but travelers fear none as much as the dreaded sand worms. In southern lands bordering the Wastes, they''re known as earth dragons. Long ago, the elves termed them Sand Fathers, or Hul Abba. Such are the trifles one gathers on the road. Only the presence of running water deters the worms, and only on the verdant path, the green road, can a caravan pass with some semblance of security. Yet, even then, when roused, the worms have been known to attack," he paused momentarily, studying my face to ensure I grasped the gravity of his words. I merely nodded in comprehension, awaiting his continuation. "Every crossing is a risky venture, and all pray for heavy rains for the season. We''ll hold up on the Rump, a moon''s journey from here, gauging the rainfall. Ankhset will indicate whether we can safely cross or if we''re destined for a perilous passage. There, we''ll bide our time for the emergence of the river, the water that will guide us across the Wastes to Al-Lazar. If fortune is on our side, heavy rains will persist here in the Grieving Lands. With '' tears abundant, the river will flow deep and strong. I will have to pray for that. Damn that Hamsa! The obligation he has foisted upon me gives me no other choice but to do so," he concluded, his speech seemingly having sapped him of his vitality as the worries of the future intruded upon his thoughts. Opting not to burden him with further inquiries, I expressed my gratitude, executed a slight bow, and took my leave from the wagon. Book 2: Shaping [Part 3] The smell of cooking was now strong in the air, and there was a rumbling in my stomach that wished to be sated. It was time to return to my companions and to see what we could do about an evening meal. I was sure the victuals would be simple travelers'' fare, but my time in the Grieving Lands had taught me an appreciation of food that I simply did not have in my own world. It had a different meaning here. A different weight. Eating was no longer a matter of opening a fridge, or taking a quick walk down to the local supermarket. I decided to travel around the circle of wagons, not wanting to bump into anyone, and to have a little time alone with my thoughts. I had been given so many things to think about today, so many things to muse and puzzle over. A long journey was ahead of us and I was as prepared as I could be. One thing was for sure though, I had to add yet another dangerous creature to this world¡¯s growing bestiary - Sand Worms. Beasts... this world abounded with them, strange mirages of familiarity nestled amidst the exotic unknown. Creatures bearing an uncanny resemblance to the animals of my old world, yet touched with an alien veneer. The horses and donkeys of this place echoed this eerie parallelism. Had they, like me, been abducted by time and space from our rightful home? Come to think of it, were the people of these wild and barbaric lands now the descendants of humans transported from Earth? Were these, this world''s ''native'' entities, these creatures with an extra pair of limbs, merely manifestations of an analogous evolutionary tale? Or was their existence just a testament to the relentless churning of cosmic randomness? Just an example of, however unlikely, convergent evolution? Going over Laes¡¯ explanation, I posited that the Green Road was probably some sort of river that cut across the desert called the Whispering Wastes, and would act as some sort of deterrent to the worms. Hopefully, these caravaneers knew their business and could make the journey safely enough, and Laes seemed like a competent sort, I thought to myself. A memory stirred of a half-remembered fragment of a dream entered my mind from a time before I came to this strange and fantastical land. Of giant desert-dwelling worms and their awesome power. Before I knew it, my feet led me back to the sounds of wood striking wood. The cadence of strikes had lessened and I saw Larynda huffing and puffing, her shoulders low with strain and exhaustion. However, this did not stop her from striking clumsily again at Kidu, who deftly deflected each of her strikes, almost indifferently. Moving slowly, so that they would not yet notice my presence, I cast Identify on Larynda to see if there had been any improvement.
Larynda - Chaos Mage [Human/Elf lvl.5] If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Health: 31/32 Stamina: 2/22 Mana: 4/19
It seemed that the training was working. Her current Status showed a small improvement of one point in her Stamina. How far could she be pushed, I wondered, with a little sadistic glee. We¡¯ll make a little soldier out of you yet, I whispered to myself. I must admit, I was also a little interested in just exactly what her magic was. Still, it was time to eat and I had to put an end to their training. ¡°Little one. Kidu,¡± I called out, which drew both of their attention and earned Larynda a little rap on her arm from the wild man. ¡°Ouch!¡± screeched the girl child, more in surprise than in pain. To this Kidu simply added in his simple and terse manner, ¡°Focus. No distractions,¡± finishing with his customary grunt. I detected a hint, though - something had softened his gruff manner. ¡°I believe that is enough training for one evening. It is time to see what we can do for an evening meal. Let that be our next quest,¡± I said with a forced smile on my face, hoping against hope that perhaps I would receive a notification from the system. To no surprise, nothing was forthcoming and I could only sigh internally. Larynda removed her headscarf and fastidiously wiped away most of her built-up sweat with a small towel. Kidu, on the other hand, still looked fresh. Despite the inherent dangers on the horizon, I could not help but feel a sense of progress. I was growing, and my companions were growing. Of course, there had been Elwin¡¯s betrayal, but in exchange, I had been all but gifted a young mage that could be shaped to my liking. It was always important to see the bright side in all things. Locking our borrowed wagon, we let our noses guide us to a cooking fire burning brightly near the center of the camp. Already, the cooks had begun doling out the evening meal in plain but solid wooden bowls. Spiced ground meat and fat over what was some kind of porridge was the main meal for the evening. A slice of purple-fleshed fruit was added as a dessert. We joined the line of caravaneers, and after ten minutes or so we were served piping-hot portions. In fact, it was a little too hot for my taste, and I almost spat out my first bite once we sat down on the grass. Once cooled, however, I appreciated how the flavors melted in my mouth. Simple and filling, I thought to myself as I scarfed down my meal. My companions and I ate in comfortable silence, yet listened to the sounds of mixed conversation from other groups, threading their way across the air. Larynda had lowered her scarf but kept it wrapped around her ears, sensibly concealing her heritage. I had seen other women clad in a similar fashion, so at the very least it would not draw undue attention to us. A group of caravaneers hushed down when they realized they were in close proximity to us. They were talking in a language unknown to me, the clicking sounds and meter foreign and annoying to my ears. My Identify spell would be working hard across this journey. Book 2: Value [Part 1] The Wood Elves, or the Musenvane in their own tongue, are known by many different names: the Warders of the Woods, the First Children, and the beloved of the gods, to name but a few. Theirs is an existence shrouded in mystery and what little is known of them is found only in the most-ancient and archaic of texts. Once upon a time in ages past, or so it is written, they were guardians of an ancient prophecy and the instruments of a divine will. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. Kidu''s belch echoed loudly, turning heads from the surrounding groups. The unexpected display prompted our charge to release a few gentle peals of laughter. However, she hastily stifled the sound when met with his glare. Once the momentary disruption has passed, I thought it was a good time to find out more about the half-elf. ¡°So, Larynda,¡± I opened, taking great care not to call her child or any other diminutive, ¡°I am a man of honor, and rest assured, no matter your answer, I ensure that you will safely reach your destination. Still, I believe Kidu and I have the right to understand exactly why Hamsa sent you off with us on a journey to the city of Al-Lazar, wouldn''t you agree?" She blinked a few times, stunned for a few moments at her current reality before she finally replied, ¡°Old Ham said it was better I am not in a city where they catch children and foundlings to sell off as slaves. One of the free cities is a better place, ¡®e said. Al-Lazar is famous around here for being the birth spot of Alchemy, they says. Said I could learn some fancy new stuff there. That, or he just wanted to get rid of me...¡± ¡°But what are you supposed to do once you get there?¡± I asked, a little perplexed and confused about her situation. Out of the corner of one eye, I saw a few lines of concern appear on Kidu¡¯s otherwise impassive granite face. ¡°Ol¡¯ Ham, he was right different ever since you plodded into the shop¡­¡± her voice began to break, but she gathered herself, and continued, ¡°I should probably join the Alchemy guild down there, he said. Find me a new master to pester, and that sort o¡¯ thing. But me, I¡¯s thinking instead I¡¯m gonna be an Adventurer! You get to do all sort of wonderful things! You get a nice badge too!¡± she piped. I shared a look with the large man who, with a small shrug of his shoulders, was able to convey what a hundred words could not. Choosing a career based on an accessory was impulsive and foolish, but truth be told there was a little weight behind the badge. The impression I had gotten from Darcen Tsend, the Guild Master from Ansan, was that the Guild looked after its own. There was also the fact that there had been an elf in the Guild, which led some credence to the organization being able to provide a measure of protection. On the surface at least. According to the eccentric alchemist, she had other mysterious backers. Still, her joining the guild certainly would not be detrimental. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. In this world, wielders of magic were relatively rare, and having someone on hand to cast a few spells for me would be rather convenient. With this in my mind, I decided it would be best to support her dream. ¡°That is a wonderful aspiration. To that end, I think it best that you focus on your training with Kidu. Being an adventurer is filled with great danger, and the ability to protect oneself is paramount,¡± I pronounced, as solemnly as possible, trying to sound wise. ¡°Gilgamesh speaks truth, little one. But have no fear, for I see that you have a little of the Way about you. And, you learn quickly for one so young,¡± the large man added, giving credence to what I had just said. I gave her some time to let my suggestion seep in, and looked over the child as she absorbed the words that helped validate her childish dream. Hamsa had the right of it, steering her away from the dangerous profession. It was, of course, doubly dangerous for one so young, but I would use what I could to wring any advantage I could. After a moment, I could see that the idea had wormed its way successfully into her easily-influenced mind. ¡°Yes, it''s a great idea, isn¡¯t it!? I¡¯ll just have to be a lil¡¯ bit stronger. Oh, and don¡¯t you worry, I¡¯ll show you what I can do with my magic, just wait you see!¡± she beamed, enthusiasm radiating from almost every pore. She stopped, lost in thought, then looked askance at me, ¡°But I¡¯ll probably need to find a group and no one will¡­¡± she left the last hanging like laundry waiting to be picked off the line. ¡°You could of course always join up with us,¡± I coughed, feeling for a microsecond that things were slotting into place a little too easily. Shrugging away this foreboding, I saw that, upon hearing my offer, her face broke out into a wide sunny smile. Kidu simply snorted before adding, in his usual manner, ¡°You would be a vast improvement over our last member.¡± Larynda looked down at the remains of her food at this, as if lost in thought. My own thoughts had grown dark over the mention of Elwin, the suddenness of his departure still casting a long shadow over my mind. Out of the corner of one eye, I saw a small shape work its way towards us. It was a small girl clad in the way of the caravan. She wore flowing clothes, cinched with a purple sash, and a white headscarf that framed an Asiatic face, complete with a button nose. She was of an age with Larynda and I could not help but compare the two of them. She was the picture of seriousness as she formally bowed to us before asking if she could gather our used dishes. She was quiet and reserved, seemingly a direct reflection of her upbringing. In contrast, Larynda''s silence felt different - it was born out of some form of reticence. I got the sense she was hiding something significant from us. With the meal over, I decided to ask the half-elven child another question, ¡°So tell us a little of your life back in Ansan.¡± The girl child''s face grew pensive and she looked lost in thought for a few breaths. With a sigh that had no place coming from a child, she told us her tale. Book 2: Value [Part 2] It was a clich¨¦d and simple tale, though no less tragic for it, common to many of the young and vulnerable. An unknown father, and an even more mysterious mother, both of which abandoned her into the care of one of the local shrines, was the start in life that she had been given. Even then, the girl had been content for a while, at least until her ears began to give clues to her origins. As is the nature of bored children, she had taken to exploring and hiding in every nook and cranny of the shrine. First it was out of play, a game to pass the time with her friends, who almost could never find her. Then it became an escape, a way to find reprieve from the switch that the adults of the shrine were always too free to employ. In a forgotten alcove, above the portly prior¡¯s office, she once overheard a most-disturbing conversation. She was to be sold into slavery, the heritage of her blood a rare and valuable commodity. The exchange was to happen soon. A determined Larynda made her escape, deciding that a life on the streets was better than a life in chains. During those formative years, she would run with various child gangs and other urchins, stealing from the markets or from traveling merchants. Every day was one of calculated risk, as they tested themselves against the law in Ansan. The penalty of theft was harsh. As time passed, the older and luckier members of her group would find themselves employed in low positions to the rich and powerful of the city. She would sometimes call out to them when she saw them about the city, but they would shroud themselves with indifference, as her calls were a painful reminder of the lives they once led. The truly ill-fated ones, children that the gods and this primitive society had forgotten, merely disappeared without a word. Gone like morning mist, without utterance and without a trace, leaving behind a growing hole that ate away at her heart. It was then, just as she began to know true despair, that she had a fateful encounter. Dezra, her friend, had developed a hacking, persistent cough that refused to go away. As the days passed, this cough morphed into a deathly rattle, leading to Dezra''s pitiful end, drowned in her own blood. As she held Dezra''s rapidly-cooling hand in her own, she looked around their den and acknowledged that this existence was no life at all. Living this way amounted to nothing more than a slow death. Driven by desperation, she knew she needed to find a way to better her circumstances. It felt much like escaping the shrine - a dire situation that demanded drastic measures. She had to evolve beyond petty pickpocketing and shoplifting. She needed to make a significant score, a life-altering one that would change her current course. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Fortune smiled upon her when one of the street urchins discovered that there was an alchemist in Ansan who stocked the rarest of herbs and alchemical supplies. These materials were highly-valuable and in great demand. According to Sepfan, a boy who had eavesdropped on a conversation between two dubious adventurers, the shop was deceptively rundown from the outside. Inside, however, it housed a treasure trove of rare and marvelous potions, which the oblivious alchemist was selling for a mere fraction of their worth. The unsuspecting old man didn¡¯t realize he was sitting on so much gold. The two adventurers had been plotting to raise money to purchase his entire inventory and resell it for profit. Her group needed to act swiftly if they were to seize this golden opportunity. Quickly staking out the Alchemy shop, the group decided that it was an easy hit, the exotic treasures within easy to fence. However, things were not to be, for the Alchemist had been a far cry from an easy mark. Using a cloth laced with a swift-acting soporific, the surprisingly fast and dexterous old man caught the child as she was searching through his things. After forcefully administering a strong and bitter antidote, Hamsa gave her a long lecture about stealing, once she had suitably recovered her wits. Tied to a chair, she feigned rapt attention, for she thought that her life was in peril. Larynda had heard the stories. Whether she lived or died depended entirely on the whims of this old man. Much to her surprise, after he finished his tirade and lecture, he retreated to the back of the store and vanished for some time. She desperately tried to escape, but the knots binding her were expertly tied, leaving her no chance of loosening them. The old man returned, carrying a small plate of food and Larynda''s stomach churned at first with unease. Then came a rumbling of a different kind. Thinking it possibly poisoned, she tried to resist the temptation of the proffered food. However, it was the first solid and warm meal that she had seen in a long time and the smell was irresistible. In the end, she relented. This single act of kindness and forgiveness, not to mention the interesting things within the rundown store, drew her to visit Hamsa¡¯s shop time and time again. Helping about the store, the Alchemist noticed that she had a sharp and inquisitive mind. Soon enough, the old man began instructing her in the basics of alchemy. It also helped that he would always give her food served on chipped and worn crockery, filling and wholesome nonetheless. They grew closer together as time passed, and she spent a few happy and loving years under Hamsa¡¯s care as his ¡®apprentice.¡¯ That was until, of course, the Alchemist had caught word that there was a group looking for a young half-elven girl of her description. Hard as my heart had grown, I could not deny that I felt a little sympathy for her situation. However, there was now the shadow of a group that was actively hunting for our new charge. Did I really need yet another bunch of people chasing after me? I had to weigh the utility of a magic user on the team against the increased level of threat. It was certainly food for thought. Book 2: Value [Part 3] I ruminated over her little tale as I let my stomach settle. Rising, I gave the girl some clich¨¦d words of encouragement, and as a group we walked back to our wagon. We gave the girl some privacy and the time to see to her bedtime preparations. We then made our own preparations for the night as well. Kidu, predictably, was soon asleep, his snores quickly filling up the space of the wagon. Annoyed, I took the first watch, waiting for Larynda to go to sleep. In between the animal snores, I thought I could hear the occasional sad sniffle before, finally exhausted, the girl found sleep. Kidu''s rasping snores began to grate, forcing me to leave the wagon, back into the cool of the night. The stars had come in their full regalia, but the miserly moon shone only with a fraction of her light. Looking across the camp, I could see the torches of sentries as they moved around the perimeter, stopping here and there as they guarded against whatever was out there on the plains. With nothing to do and time on my hands, I stepped out into the night. I walked around, taking care to stay within the ring of the guarding light. A sentry passed me by, and even in the poor light, I could see he was well-equipped. He had a fine chain mail coat and stout kettle helm, with a flowing aventail running down the sides of his neck. A mean-looking curved blade, probably a scimitar, was at his hip. He nodded deferentially to me as he passed, the sounds of his armor a mild clank in the night - a picture of professionalism. It was time to meditate and practice, to explore the inner halls of my potential. Sitting cross-legged on the grass, I began to review what knowledge I had been able to gather from the damaged book the traitorous Elwin had bestowed upon me. My mind pondered on the meaning of the arcane symbols, trying to find some of their meaning. I felt that they represented some sort of higher form of mathematics, but their true meaning eluded me. Larynda¡¯s seals had been interesting, but again, without a teacher or frame of reference, I could not even begin to decipher them. Suffering from the lack of the basic fundamental principles of magical theory, I could only grind my teeth in annoyance. Without any further recourse, until at least I got my hands on more instructional material, I had to make do with more practical application and practice. I let go of the energy that was waiting for my command, letting it loose in a torrent of black joy. Entropic Aura burst from me, and the sibilant voices that accompanied it exulted in delight as the waves of malignant raw energy pulsed from me. With Mana to spare, I wondered what other spells I could unleash. There I found it, bounding to the forefront of my mind¡ªthe dark spell of Decay. Pointing a finger at a patch of ground, I drove the spell towards it. I could feel that there was resistance from the living grass at first. It was but a trifling thing, weak, like it was holding up an umbrella against my storm. Soon enough, Decay¡¯s energy intertwined with the pulses of Entropic Aura, the black tentacles of rot combining with the waves of raw entropic energy caused the grass to wither and die. I knew then, on an instinctual level, that my Entropic Aura empowered my other spells. This sudden understanding caused the sibilant voices in my mind to jump with glee in affirmation. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. I needed to test another spell from my dark repertoire. No, I needed to stop thinking of my gifts in such a way. There were tools to be used, neither good nor evil. Not light and not dark. They were simply a source of my power. However, my Mana had dropped considerably between the two spells, and I felt that it was time to replenish my reserves. With this mind, I returned to our wagon, opened the door and stepped in as quietly as I could. Metal armor is not conducive to stealth, but thankfully the pair within did not notice me. Scanning the darkness, I heard, more than saw, the presence of Kidu, who had fallen into a deep sleep. The sounds of his slumber were like a blunt saw cutting at a stubborn tree. Once my eyes had adjusted to the gloom, I could see that the half-elf¡¯s small chest was gently rising and falling, and she was sniffling miserably, even in her sleep. I cast Identify on the girl to determine if she had recovered from the rigors of the day.
Larynda - Chaos Mage [Human/Elf lvl.5]
Health: 32/32 Stamina: 14/22 Mana: 7/19
I theorized that the girl must have some sort of Mana Regeneration skill and Rest skill similar to my own, which would explain the fast recovery of her Mana. I would wait a little longer before my next experiment, as a way to gauge just how fast her Mana recuperated. Book 2: Value [Part 4] I waited for perhaps two hours or so, relieving myself in a bucket, halfway through my watch. Feeling that the time was ripe, I cast Identify again on the girl. Thankfully, the spell did not stir her from her slumber. Looking over her Status again, I saw that she had recovered another two points of mana and three points of Stamina. She had stopped sniffling, and her breathing sounded shallow and even. Sure that she was in the tightest embrace of sleep, I cast Drain on the unsuspecting girl. The threads of the spell, like Decay, intertwined with my Entropic Aura in a concert of sinister energy. The magic of the spell enthralled me for a few long moments. Too alluring and seductive it was, its call a siren¡¯s song demanding more than I was willing to give. A fragment of my mind rang alarm bells, crying out a reminder that I needed the girl child alive to fulfill the quest. Shocked at myself, I began to reel in my powers, cutting off Drain and the sweet energy it brought to me. Next, I brought Entropic Aura to heel, the spell whining in my head with its displeasure Panting with almost feral lust, I could feel the life energies flowing within me. Remembering my purpose, I quickly scanned Larynda with an Identify.
Larynda - Chaos Mage [Human/Elf lvl.5]
Health: 26/32 Stamina: 11/22 Mana: 5/19
My mana was now just one point shy of full, and I could see that, as expected, hers had dropped by a few points. My spell, however, did not perfectly transfer the stolen energy to me. Despite me being at full Health, the girl had lost some of hers. I guessed that the energy was just wasted, lost to the ether. To Entropy. A scared part of me wondered at how long I had been seduced by my own spell¡¯s influence? It could have been minutes or seconds. The use of the magic had warped my sense of time. More importantly, I had missed the opportunity to measure the rate at which I could drain Mana and Health. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. What happened if I continued to use Drain when my Mana was at full? I could only assume that the energy would be lost. There was only one way to find out. As I was thinking these very thoughts, I could have sworn I heard the sibilant voices chittering with glee. I was playing with these thoughts until guilt gnawed at me, for I realized that I had probably crossed a line. Fearful that someone might have witnessed my act, I looked around and noticed that one of the shutters was open. I edged closer to it, taking care to not wake my companions. Looking outside, I saw nothing, and convinced myself that no one had seen what I had done. Gratefully, Kidu was still asleep, and Larynda''s chest was continuing to rise and fall in a regular pattern. Softly, I closed the heavy shutters of the wagon, thankful that the hinges were well-oiled and did not produce a screech. Wishing to repair the possible harm I caused, and to assuage my guilty feelings, I readied myself to use one of my most expensive spells, in an apology. An angelic choir started to sing, wanting to trumpet out their voices. I denied them, merely allowing their refrain to echo in the halls of my mind as I forced the divine energies to take shape with my Silent Casting skill. Though the musical symphony of Greater Heal could be denied, its holy light could not, and a golden light filled the wagon. It was this bright light that finally woke our bleary-eyed Hunter, who clutched his spear in surprise. The lights played around us, filling the wagon with a surge of healing. Finally, when the spell was over, I felt mentally exhausted. Drained of Mana, but washed clean of my sins. I looked at Kidu, who looked positively alert in the dimming golden light, the shadow of tiredness and constant stress having fled from his body, thanks to the power of the spell. ¡°It is a good thing that you have done. This journey will be tough for us who have seen more winters, but tougher for the girl. This will keep us in the best of conditions, of this I am sure. Do not strain yourself too much¡­ I will take up the watch now,¡± he insisted, gruff voice commanding. ¡°I will have to take you up on your offer,¡± I returned gratefully. I took off my helm and crumpled into a soft corner of carpet. At least someone appreciates me, I thought to myself.
You have gained 1 Wisdom.
Smiling weakly at the Hunter, I saw him nodding to me as I began to close my eyes, trusting in his vigilance and thankful that he had completely misunderstood my motives. Sleep came easily to me that night as, finally, I had made some progress. Book 2: The Calm [Part 1] Faerie Powder, Star Dust, the Call of Oblivion - verily, the Dust of the free city of Al-Lazar is known by many names throughout the wide expanse of the known world. In measured quantities, the substance is known to confer great benefit, improving the health and sharpening the faculties of those who partake of it. But beware, for in larger doses, it grows to be a most-potent addiction. It is said that in the throes of its influence, one may reach the very heights of euphoria, and even catch a glimpse of the veil that separates our world from the beyond. The Dust grows only along the shoreline of Al-Lazar, where the briny sea meets the burning shore. It is the pollen of the Asixum plant, infused with the power of Mana, and is known in the local tongue as the Nabat Alasum, the Indulgence of the Gods. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. The sound of hammers pounding away at steel, and the cry of a foreman exuding men to greater efforts stole me away from the last of my sleep. For a few short moments, I thought I was back in the slave pens of Ansan and hurriedly got to my feet. A little disoriented, I looked around and my mind finally caught up to the present. In one of the corners, Larynda was rubbing her eyes, and I felt the weight of a large meaty hand on my shoulder. Turning around, I saw the ice-blue eyes of the man-mountain looking at me, with concern welling in their depths, and I was finally able to still myself. ¡°Peace, Gilgamesh of Uruk, and good morning,¡± he intoned in his rumbling voice. Using more than one word was a sign that the man was in a good mood. The large man rationed his words as if he had a limited supply. I felt the panic leave me as I got myself together, my mind piecing together all of the events that had brought me to this point. I praised the lucky stars that we were finally leaving the lands of the Tides. ¡°Thank you, friend. For a moment I was trapped in a fragment of the past,¡± I uttered hoarsely, still slightly surprised by the sudden swell of my own emotion. ¡°All is well for now,¡± Kidu said simply, as Larynda stretched out her arms and yawned loudly. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. I nodded to Kidu, who was fully equipped with his panoply of war, and the wisp of a few days'' growth of stubble about his face gave him a hard and rough look. He ran a hand across his chin, and in a sympathetic reaction, I touched my own face, but my fingers only met with smooth skin. Save for the accumulated scars that disappeared every time I cast Greater Heal, my avatar did not change. Opening the door to the wagon, I was greeted with the dull gray light of dawn, and the sights of the caravan preparing to be on the move. Towards the center of the wagons, the cooks from the night before were already serving the day¡¯s breakfast. Flat unleavened bread was cooking on sizzling hot iron griddles, the appetizing smell floating on the fresh morning air. We left the wagon so the girl child could finish changing into her clothes. Moving into the camp proper, our group received our portions from the industrious cooks. The bread was plain, but with just a hint of honey. It was heavy and filling, and I could see how even small portions could fuel a day¡¯s labor. We ate quickly as the cooks told us that the caravan would be leaving within the hour, once the beasts had been fed and watered. As we were returning our used bowls and cutlery, I saw something that caught my attention. An old woman was walking towards where the large draft animals were corralled. She was rake-thin and moved with a willowy grace that belied her advanced age. One of the Xaruars, familiar with her presence, lowed in greeting, nudging her waist as she passed. The woman¡¯s face crowded in irritation as she looked at the draconian creature. Rubbing the large animal''s head, she shooed it away, all her attention focused on what she had to do. She raised her hands, her face a rictus of concentration. She began to chant in a clear voice that cut through the noise of the camp. Wisps of blue energy played about her, drawn from the ground and the very air itself. After what felt like long moments, the spell ended and the workers around her paused their work and bowed their heads in thanks. The woman was breathing heavily, the magic having taken its toll on her. She looked distracted and I thought it would be a good time to cast Identify on the magic-user. For a moment, a puzzled look crossed her face.
Ankhset Ulgen - Water Mage [Human lvl.16]
Health: 152/152 Stamina: 16/23 Mana: 4/16
Book 2: The Calm [Part 2] Once she had finished with her duty, I saw her enter a large purple wagon gilded with gold paint, aided across the stairs by two burly guards. The guards themselves were not a match for Kidu in height, but they were very wide of shoulder, and stout. Her class was a typical clich¨¦d fantasy water mage. Predictably bland for this world, I thought to myself. I recalled my earlier conversation with Laes. What did he mean exactly by the ¡®call¡¯ of her element? I would have to ask him later. Or perhaps I could even ask the woman herself. I looked at my companion for their reactions and saw that they had barely reacted at all to the display of the magic. I needed more information. Was magic such a casual and mundane thing for the people of this world that it barely raised an eyebrow? I needed to confirm if this was the case. Questions upon questions. My mind thirsted for knowledge. From her class name, I had a vague idea of what she did, but I needed confirmation on what a ¡®Water Mage¡¯ actually was. What they could do¡­ ¡°Larynda, what just happened now? What exactly did that woman over there just do?¡± I asked the little girl, pointing at Ankhset¡¯s gaudy wagon. ¡°Oh, that? That was just a bit of magic,¡± the girl shrugged as if it was the most normal thing in the world. I had to grit my teeth to stop the annoyance seeping into my voice. I was dealing with a child, so patience would be necessary. I took a small breath. ¡°I deduced as much, but what kind of magic exactly?¡± I replied, trying to keep a smile on my face. ¡°Don¡¯t they have Water Callings where you come from?¡± she answered finally, looking surprised. ¡°... and what is a Water Calling, pray tell?¡± I asked insistently, ignoring her question. ¡°Just the Water Seeker asking the local spirits to fill up the water barrels. Mornings ¡®r usually the best times for that,¡± the little girl replied offhandedly. ¡°So, you never seen a Water Mage, and you never seen a Water Calling, right? Where exactly are you from anyways?¡± she said quizzically, looking at me as if I was an alien creature. Seeing my puzzled look, she finally decided to explain, "Well, like, umm... they call water and fill up the barrels and stuff that caravans need to cross the dry sea¡­ you know, for drinking like. Mornings are apparently some of the best times to be doing that stuff. Something about being easier with all the morning dew about. But that''s really all I know," she finished with a shrug of her shoulders. I stopped for a moment as I let the casual way she talked about magic run through my mind. This really was a different world, I reminded myself for the umpteenth time. It seemed that here there really was no stigma to the act of using magic, and it was openly used for people¡¯s convenience. In my own world, witches had been burned at the stake for less. The more I learned about this place and its strange people, the more I realized how little I truly knew. Nodding to Kidu, who returned the gesture, I gave an offhanded thanks to Larynda as I walked towards the Mage¡¯s wagon, only to find the girl trailing behind me, like a lost puppy. Like all the wagons of the caravan, the Mage¡¯s played with the theme of purple and was of a heavy, durable construction - basically a house on wide wheels. Unlike the other wagons, gaudy filigreed gold script ran along the sides of the vehicle, of arcane-looking symbols that reminded me of ancient Sanskrit. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The guards, one of them a woman, I realized upon closer inspection, eyed me as I came closer. They began to bark out what could only be a command to stop but I could barely understand a word of the rest. Eventually, they shouted at me in the common Trade tongue. ¡°Stop, there. What business do you have with the Water Seeker?¡± the male asked in a gruff and unfriendly voice, while the twin on his left sneered. I say twin, for they could only have been thus, each an almost mirror reflection of the other. They were imposing figures, twin towers built from layered slabs of muscle. The pair''s thick, tree-like arms made my own look like twigs in comparison. Wearing the flowing clothes of the steppe, they sported mean-looking wooden cudgels at their hips. Despite their fearsome size and their surly expression, their faces, by contrast, were actually quite pleasant to look at. Both of them had delicate features accentuated by their tilted eyes. Above said eyes were delicate tattoos, inked in the pattern of flowing water. A part of me thought that gods were fickle with their gifts, for comely faces were obviously wasted on creatures such as these. Holding up my hands, as a sign of non-violence, I stated, ¡°I was wondering if I could exchange a few words with the Water Seeker to further my study. Where I come from, such magic is not needed, and I was wondering¡­¡± ¡°Mother is busy, deep in her meditations, and will not want to be disturbed. Away with you now,¡± said the overly-large female, an edge now to her otherwise pleasant voice. I felt a movement behind me as Larynda peeked out and squeezed herself into the conversation. ¡°Please don¡¯t be minding my friend here, he¡¯s just a bit strange, that¡¯s all!¡± she smiled at them, half-chuckling, which infected them with the beginnings of an outbreak of smiles at the corner of their mouths. The pair resisted for a moment before they gave out a laugh and commented on her outburst, ¡°Oh, aren¡¯t you a pretty thing! It¡¯s strange company that you keep, little one. To not have a Seeker on a journey such as this would be to court the slow death. Ha!¡± guffawed the male incredulously. I had to bite back my growing irritation, as coming to blows without Kidu to back me up would be the height of foolishness. ¡°Yes! Don¡¯t I know it,¡± Larynda responded trying to sound childishly worldly, ¡°Jus¡¯ the thing is, I am also a bit curious. How she do such a great thing like that anyways? Name¡¯s Larynda, by the way,¡± she replied in her musical voice, thick with charm, and she reached out, as if to shake their hands. Instead of shaking hands, however, the two guards, with a grace that belied their thick, heavy-set builds, touched her elbows. The girl child could only reach around three-quarters up their arms. ¡°What a lovely little thing you are! I am Aizere and this blockhead is my brother Erasyl,¡± the large woman said as she ruffled the half-elf¡¯s hair and smiled down at her. The brother frowned and paused for a moment, ¡°... I have seen them in the company of Master Harevor, if they are the caravan master¡¯s guests, perhaps Mother will want to speak to them once she recovers¡­¡± He was quickly silenced by a deadly look from his sister. Realizing they were in the presence of strangers, they both quickly changed expressions, reining in their loose tongues. ¡°Allow me to make my introduction, I am Gilgamesh of Uruk,¡± I stated simply, smiling a thin cold smile, without offering out an arm, but instead sampling the brother with an Identify spell.
Erasyl Ulgen - Water Mage Apprentice [Human lvl.13]
Health: 162/162 Stamina: 34/34 Mana: 11/11
¡°Please tell the Seeker that we wish to speak to her at her leisure,¡± I informed them as civilly as I could, ¡°Come now, Larynda. We have some business with the caravan master.¡± ¡°We do? Can¡¯t we stay a bit longer and have a chat¡­¡± piped the girl, in the annoying manner of children everywhere. I almost hit her. Patience, I reminded myself. Patience. Book 2: Portents [Part 1] Not much is known of the Fae, for all accounts of which are mostly hearsay, and dubious in nature. Among the elves, it is said that they come from the place between worlds, the In-between or the Betwixt Place. Still from what evidence I have collected, they seem to be the source of the fabled and much sought-after Witchwood. The material is a devil to shape but it is as hard as the finest dwarven steel, and much lighter. Some say it is living wood and is able to slowly repair the damage done to it. I would very much like to see it for myself someday. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. A low rumble, reminiscent of the quake that nearly entombed my comrades and I within the mines, echoed through the earth, steadily advancing with each passing heartbeat. We hastened outside, eager to behold another wondrous spectacle of this realm. A rolling wave of mane and hoof thundered in the distance, growing ever closer. A vast herd of horses stretched across the horizon, a flowing line that moved majestically across the grassy plain in a multitude of natural colors, flowing in unison towards the southeast. Larynda¡¯s mouth was open in wonder, and even the stoic Kidu could not help but stare agog at the sight before us. All around the caravan, there was a great whooping and hollering as raw joy filled the air with its song. The great herd had come. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a beautiful sight?¡± commented Laes, breaking me from my stupefied wonder. I could only nod mutely as the herd slowly began to fill up more of my vision, growing ever larger and louder, the thunder of hooves clamoring ever closer. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°Are we safe here?¡± I asked the caravan master, feeling nervous at witnessing such a huge number of animals. ¡°Hah! Of course. The horses of the herd are a gift from Kaes-Loka, the god of hearth and herd. It brings only good fortune to those who witness its passing. An excellent sign for our journey. Only the most experienced and respected Waveriders take from the herd, on occasion, after offering a great tribute to His name at the temples. A true prize in horseflesh! Perhaps we can commit some heresy for gold today! Khalam! Khalam!¡± His voice was an enthusiastic whip-crack over the din of celebration, catching the attention of a thick-set and heavily-armored rider before whispering conspiratorially to me, ¡°You can¡¯t ride by any chance, can you? Any experience wrangling horses?¡± ¡°No, I have never had the time to learn,¡± I replied to him, somehow naturally in a whisper, and shook my head. ¡°More''s the pity. Perhaps I will have you learn later! It is good to broaden one¡¯s horizons, hah!¡± he finally finished, winking at me before he began to discuss horse theft with his Guard Master. Soon enough, a flurry of activity stole over the guards and workers as new plans were made. Great lengths of tough-looking rope were produced and knowing looks were exchanged among the people of the caravan. They planned theft against the Tides, to steal from them what the Children viewed as sacrosanct. I wholeheartedly supported their endeavor and wished them good fortune. "I will leave Jasper, Khalam''s second, here with the train. Since you are in my employ, I would ask that you follow his orders," Laes commanded in passing, as he mounted an impressive-looking steed. It was suspiciously of a similar breed to the horses that the men rode in my first contact with humans in this world. A silky dun brown, it was a little heavier-looking and thicker about the chest, the animal''s lines promising more power than endurance. Clicking his tongue loudly, Laes left with his entourage to intercept and plunder the equine sea. An armored man, clad in a pristine coat of plates with a bronze-plumed helmet, who I assumed to be Jasper, saluted the group as they left... Soon enough, Jasper began to bark out orders, quieting the infectious air of festivity. In no time at all, the caravan began to resume its journey. Book 2: Portents [Part 2] Back in our own wagon, Kidu and I spent our time in the maintenance of our equipment. A part of me regretted purchasing the wavy parrying dagger, as it was a devil to sharpen. Still, the blade had a special place in my heart, as I remembered using it against yielding flesh and taking a small measure of vengeance. While we were busy, Larynda chose to spend her time creating more of her Seals. Occasionally she would squawk in irritation when she made a mistake or when a small bump disrupted her script, causing her efforts to be wasted. I tried to read some more scraps from Elwin¡¯s gift book, but gave up as minor motion sickness took me. Instead, I decided to swallow a little of my pride and ask the half-elven girl a few questions to help confirm my theories on magic in this world. It was surprisingly informative. The little girl, despite her young age, was well-read and knowledgeable, and she helped clarify a few of the points that had been a little troublesome. From her, I learned that Mana was apparently in all living things, from the smallest of rodents to the largest of dragons. However, only a few creatures, man being one of them, could understand the intricacies of Mana to fully utilize it. One such way was, of course, through spells. The language of a spell was, in essence, a way to twist the meaning of a state of existence, a play on words on the current observed reality. I mentally envisaged the whole thing as a sort of cross between advanced arcane mathematics, with mystical puns, and Mana being the source of power that bridged the gap between. Throughout all of this, Kidu remained impassively quiet, occasionally nodding to some point, as if it confirmed one of his own thoughts. It was not until near sunset, when the caravan began to slow and settle, the first hints of red and oranges staining the sky, that the caravan master returned. Kidu and Larynda were engaged in one of their practice sessions and they paused in their sparring to look at his triumphant return. He had an air of victory about him, tempered with a look of exhaustion, the setting sun creating a halo about him and his riders. Behind them, a line of six wild and newly-captured horses followed, straining against the ropes that led them. One of the horses was a particularly fine specimen, his coat the color of burned gold that reflected the hues of the oncoming evening. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. They were greeted by the drudges, their animals seen to, and their immediate needs met. The stolen horses were taken away and expertly hobbled and staked close by. I could see from the people¡¯s reactions that this was probably not the first time Laes had engaged in horse theft against the Tides. The riders were excused from guard duty that evening, their colleagues good-naturedly jealous of their success. I saw them clump into small groups and regale each other with their accounts of the day. Evening stole across the sky, slowly painting the heavens with her first stars. Winding down, the train prepared for the night. Soon enough, once the site had been secured, a fire was lit and the delicious scent of the evening meal began to waft along the cool air. My own group kept to ourselves, our meal consisting of a sort of long-grained pink rice layered with thinly-cut spiced meat, then slathered with a sweet-smelling sauce. I was told by one of the cooks that this sort of food was eaten only in celebration. Larynda positively stuffed her face, putting off even the wild man, who did not have much in the way of table manners. As the meal and celebrations came to an end, I decided to tell my companions a tale from my own world, about a certain boy who had been accepted into a school of wizardry. I told them of the adventures of ¡®the boy who lived¡¯. Of his friends and his struggle adjusting to his newfound destiny. Some things, however, must have failed to translate well. ¡°He sounds like a real ungrateful sot! ¡®E should be grateful to just have a roof above his head. This boy never did a thing to help right. He was rich too, an¡¯ he never shared with his family. That don¡¯t quite seem right to me!¡± chimed in Larynda, shocking me with her perspective. ¡°You say this great wizard, his parents had been killed by another dark mage, yes? Why does he have the time to be playing fanciful ¡®games¡¯ in a ditch? Should he not be practicing every day, that he might grow in might, and take his vengeance on that dark mage?¡± rumbled the big man, his voice tinged with a faint hint of disappointment and irritation. I had to remind them both that it was a fictitious tale, and reminded myself that I would have to adapt certain parts for this tough audience. Perhaps one of the Greek epics would be more palatable for this lot. In my mind, after all, was a whole world¡¯s collection of stories and tales to tell, their contents fresh and new for this world. Book 2: Know Thyself [Part 1]* Fight the wielder, not the weapon. - The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus circa 520 AC. The next few days were spent in a predictable, yet not overly-taxing pattern. During the day, I stayed in our wagon, trying to glean some scraps of knowledge from the ragged remains of the book I had gotten from Elwin. I also decided to take the time to half-heartedly write a journal, using Amon¡¯s writing kit. However, the quill and small ink pot took a little getting used to, and were no match for the modern conveniences I had grown accustomed to, not to mention the difficulty of writing in a moving vehicle. Still, on paper and in my native language, my thoughts were at least private. In the evenings I was given riding lessons for a turn-and-a-half of a sand clock, an hour or two by my estimation, by a member of the caravan guard. My instructor was a gruff man, just at the stage where rash youth was finally beginning to be tempered by wisdom. He was black-bearded, of average build and height, and he introduced himself simply as Alik. As was my habit, I cast an Identify to confirm the truth of his words.
Alik Al¡¯Kabar - Soldier [Human lvl. 11]
Health 115/118 Stamina 21/28 Mana 8/8
Alik was the same level as me, but I surely dwarfed him in terms of raw attributes. It was a shame that my Identify did not show his exact attributes or any of his skills. His class or ¡®calling¡¯ was of passing interest, as it displayed only ¡®soldier.¡¯ I had expected it to be ¡®guard,¡¯ or some such. He was a good teacher, though a little curt at times. Arik had the voice of one used to barking orders, grating like a drill sergeant. After the second day under his instruction, I could at least mount my bored and borrowed steed unassisted. I was even rewarded with a new skill for my efforts, plus ten points of experience.
You have learned Riding (lvl.1)
Every day, after the evening meal, and sometimes feeling a little saddle sore, it would be my turn to join the rotation of guards who patrolled the outskirts of our camp. My time among my fellow guards allowed me to converse a little with them. They were from all over the place, the names myriad and exotic. One of their number was a lad from a place memorably labeled Dullstown, far to the West. Dullstown¡¯s only claim to fame was that, in its long history, not a single person from its population had ever been able to harness magic through the gift of Mana. They spoke to me a bit of their lives, their meager existences up until now, and it was of little note. All except for Alik, my instructor, who joined us one evening on a passing whim. His was a far more interesting story. A fellow guard, Raza, a young slip of a man with a mop of curly brown hair and seastone gray eyes, was able to badger him into telling us a story of his past. A surly Alik told the abbreviated tale of his not-so-distant youth. A few years he spent in the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, and he spoke of some of his early exploits. These were moderately interesting tales of slain monsters and unearthed treasures. But what piqued everyone¡¯s interest was that a certain event caused him to quit adventuring. No amount of pestering by Raza or the other guards could convince him to explain further, and an air of mystery surrounded the end of his tale. He simply stated that he learned something in an infamous place known as the ¡®Iron Quarter¡¯ that had put him off from adventuring. From his limited and brief description, I ascertained that it was probably the game world''s version of a ''dungeon.'' If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Something in its dark and dangerous depths had made the gruff Alik quit his chosen path and instead join the rival Mercenaries Guild. Another few years and a few failed campaigns later, sick of the bloody business of war, but unable to put up his sword, he took up employment as a small-time thug in a local gang in a small town. What money he had left at the end of the day, he spent on cheap drink and loose women. He was eventually recruited into the Ravens by Khalam, the caravan¡¯s Guard Master, who dragged him out of a dirty drinking den. Kidu, too, would join us on occasion when he finished his duties, and his bulky armored form would cast large shadows in the firelight. Larynda would also enter our little circle, if she was not overly exhausted from her training and study. Somehow, the child was able to earn praise and the odd smile from even the most world-weary and surly of the guards. A harsh liqueur called arag, which was made from fermented mare¡¯s milk, was passed around liberally on such occasions. One sniff told me it was not for me. I only pretended to drink it, the liquid just barely touching my lips when it was my turn to take a pull. The Hunter refused altogether, saying that the burning water of Kazass, the wildman¡¯s term for alcohol, did not suit him. The other guards did not press him, nor did they mock him for it. This I found mildly amusing, for just the other day they had relentlessly ribbed Raza for his poor constitution against the strong drink. Larynda wrinkled her nose at the stuff and refused to partake - not that I would have allowed her to drink alcohol at her young age, anyway. I was even invited to join in on one of their card games by Likam, an old gray-bearded guard. Knock-kneed and flat-footed, his old armor fit his ungainly frame poorly, and he walked with a slight limp from a previous injury. According to the old hand, his limp had been caused by a supposedly powerful foe that had knocked him off his saddle. The others disputed his claim, saying that he just suffered a bad fall trying to break in a new colt while drunk, much to his consternation. I was given to agree with them. When we talked about the losses in our lives, we were always only beaten by the strongest of foes, or were the victims of the direst of circumstances. The game I was invited to was called, simply, ¡®Blessings.¡¯ The aim of the game was to complete ever increasingly-complicated sets, or Blessings, as the game termed it, by picking up cards from the general pile and discarding unwanted cards from your own hand. The player who was able to complete a set was able to ¡®cash in,¡¯ by collecting an agreed amount of money from the other players. Alternatively, he could choose to continue - in an attempt to collect another set, or expand upon his own. Each of the sets came from a ¡®suit¡¯ representing one of the Divines - the gods or goddesses of this world. These were, according to the sets, starting from the most valuable: the Sun, the Vagrant, the Twin Swords, the Withered Tree, the Matriarch, the River, the Behemoth and, lastly, the Hunger. The Hunger was mostly worthless unless it was paired with the ¡°Herald¡± card from one of the other sets, a combination that was almost impossible to achieve. It was a simple game, once I had memorized the sets. I counted myself fortunate, as my fellow guards were patient in their instruction. Beginner¡¯s luck was on my side for a few rounds, which allowed me to even claw back a few coppers. Even though we had just started a new hand, Likam had already partially completed a set of the Vagrant Sun. It was a set symbolising the transience of youth. "Wish I could be young again. Things were easier back then, even pissing," Likam grumbled as he stood up and noisily broke wind. "Got a feeling I¡¯ll be going to Her glory soon." "With a stench like that, old man, you''ve got a few decades left in you," one of the younger guards quipped. "What would you do if you had your youth back, or could stay young forever?" I asked, trying to ignore the foul smell wafting in my direction. Likam looked wistful. "Young again? I''d say yes to that. But forever, well, that¡¯s a mighty long word. I lost my youth waiting. Hours spent on the smallest things, thinking I had all the time in the world. But those hours turned into days, then months, then years. Probably spend less time reading, did my eyes in that did." "You¡¯d know," another guard teased, "you take forever just doing your business." Likam paid him no mind and continued, drawing another card. "It¡¯s not about how long you have," he mused, "but what you do with it. Still, there¡¯s never enough time. Old age snuck up on me like a thief, before I even noticed." It was a typical answer, and I felt foolish for expecting anything different or remotely useful. The wisdom of elders was overrated. Halfway through the hand, a sudden flash of inspiration struck me. Just as I had used Identify before, to help with my wager back in Ansan, could I not also use its magic here? Book 2: Know Thyself [Part 2] Surreptitiously, I searched the faces of my fellow players while I cast the spell on their cards. On the wily Likam, who had won considerably more than he lost, I burned through five Mana to reveal his entire hand. The old hand was the biggest threat. Throwing caution to the wind, and simply excited that my underhanded tactics had worked, I went through the rest of my Mana, revealing more of the other players¡¯ cards. Suddenly, the odds of the game were turned on their head. Now I was the master of the cards¡ªthe decider of fate, for this round at least. Keeping the other cards that the other players required and discarding only the ¡®useless¡¯ cards, I was able to win the round. I won with the Herald of the Twin Swords and a single card of the Hunger. A perfect combination. A few eyebrows were raised, and the guards commented bitterly that I had probably used up all of my good fortune for this one game. Luck was not something to be rationed out by the powers that be, it was made. Smiling slyly to myself, I was rewarded for my masterful use of magic with an increase to one of my more mysterious attributes, and a small bump in experience.
You have gained 1 Luck.
With my winnings, I was able to exchange my simple pouches for a durable satchel from one of the merchants on the train. My new bag was made of waxed and boiled leather plates stitched together, and closed with a simple clasp. The treated material would protect the contents of the satchel from the elements, and at the same time allow for easy access. I placed my growing collection of potions within, along with my coin purse, some assorted pieces of jerky, and travel biscuits. My inspired use of Identify drove me to focus on the spell in a bid to increase its power. The next day, I cast the spell on everything in sight when I could, starting with my own equipment. My current inventory consisted of;
Heavy Iron Mace-Flail
Durability 239/245
Iron Parrying Dagger
Durability 119/125
Iron Throwing Knife
Durability 87/90
Iron Throwing Knife
Durability 89/90
Iron Throwing Knife
Durability 81/90
Wooden Kite Shield [Iron]
Durability 163/190
Steel Bevor
Durability 349/350
Steel Sallet
Durability 323/350
Steel Brigandine [Leather]
Durability 324/370
Linen Gambeson [Iron]
Durability 98/115
Linen Robes
Durability 46/80
Iron Greaves
Durability 147/175
Iron Chainmail Leggings
Durability 134/170
Old Leather Gloves The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Durability 76/95
Tough Leather Bag
110/110
Low-Grade Mana Potion [Glass]
10/10
Mid-Grade Health Potion [Silver]
50/50
Mid-Grade Mana Potion [Silver]
50/50
Mid-Grade Stamina Potion [Silver]
50/50
Limited Panacea [Glass]
10/10
Bronze Adventurer¡¯s Guild Badge
70/70
I came to the assumption that potion durability referred to the flask as opposed to the actual liquid. In addition, when a piece of armor or item consisted of two different types of material, the spell displayed the secondary material in brackets. My gear was getting a little worn, especially my brown robes, and this was reflected in their lowered durability value. I would have to see, at some point, if I could get my equipment repaired by someone in the caravan. Also, much to my disappointment, I failed to level up the spell, and was only given a small increase to my experience point total. I felt I was missing something, but what was it? It was on the second day of determined practice that I received a flash of inspiration. We had stopped for the day. Larynda and Kidu were halfway through another session of strenuous practice, and the clack-clack of wood striking wood or the occasional cry of pain was a little distracting for me. Towards the tail end of their session, I saw an exhausted Larynda, near her limit, attack the wild man in a series of blows, trying to overpower him through reckless determination. It was a fool¡¯s gambit. ¡°This is folly, girl. Know yourself. Know your strengths. You could never overpower, spear to spear, a man strong in the arm like me. Use your speed and the strength of your mind! Hah!¡± guffawed the big man, a smidgen of pride entering his voice and causing Larynda to renew her assault. Something about Kidu¡¯s words spoke to me. Know your strengths. Could it be? I wondered as I whispered an old and worn platitude to myself. I decided to cast Identify on myself. Threads of magic wove their way through me, searching and questing for the nature of my being. The fabric of my soul was laid bare, but just before I reached an epiphany, any understanding was swept away by a tidal wave of black slithering things. The limited energy of the spell was diverted and distracted, and the sensation was lost. For a few brief moments, my own name, my true name¡ªthat I had thought lost to me¡ªhad come close to being revealed. However, more important than all of this, I had a breakthrough.
You have learned Identify (lvl.3) You have gained 1 Wisdom.
Finally, some progress! All thoughts of my old name were lost in a surge of satisfaction. I had to restrain myself from jumping for joy, as such an action would no doubt mark me for a loon. ¡®Calm¡¯, I told myself as I began to cast Identify on both Kidu and Larynda.
Kidu Kreshin - Hunter [Human lvl. 13]
Health 315/318 Stamina 21/28 Mana 8/8
Larynda - Chaos Mage [Human/Elf lvl. 5]
Health 31/35 Stamina 21/23 Mana 11/19
Kidu, as always, was a monster, and from the spell I could see that he had grown a little more powerful, both in mind and body. Our ward Larynda, too, had also made some progress, with small gains in Health and Stamina. No! That was not the point at all. The spell revealed nothing new. No greater depth of information, like Strength or Skill, was shown to me. I ground my teeth as I watched their contest, irritated by the wasted effort. Then, suddenly, as I was about to smash my fist against the innocent wood of the wagon, it happened. Larynda ran at Kidu again, his mocking causing her to launch another combination of reckless blows that left her completely open. Kidu casually deflected or avoided each of the strikes, reminding her of sloppy footwork as he tripped her up, teaching with pain what patience could not. The small girl¡¯s Health dropped by one point, and I could see that she had also lost two points of Stamina. I could see it! Sweet merciful gods, I could still see it. My Identify spell could now keep track of the Status of combatants. Wanting to test the bounds of my spell I cast the spell again on my leather gloves, an inanimate object.
Old Leather Gloves
Durability 76/95
The information disappeared moments later, which was yet another disappointment. Flummoxed, I could only grunt in frustration as I watched Kidu continue in his spartan instructions. A few minutes later, the pair¡¯s status disappeared from my mind¡¯s view, the magic finally expiring. The information from identified objects would disappear nearly instantly while living things, humans at the very least, would display their information for considerably longer. I comforted myself that I had at least made some progress, and that the utility of the spell had certainly increased. The evening meal was some sort of deep-fried root vegetable, cut into small chunks and wrapped in unleavened bread. It was cooked to be slightly crunchy and was quite pleasant, though a part of me decided it could have done with a bit more salt. Some ketchup would not have gone amiss, either. After we finished, I decided to tell the tale of ¡®Goldilocks and the Three Bears¡¯, which drew some false consternation from Kidu when Larynda commented that the giant of a man would probably be too big for any of the beds. The girl loved the story and took the time to poke a little more friendly fun at the large man¡¯s expense. Once our stomachs had settled, we checked our gear and prepared to join the guards for our turn at the watch. The sky at night, though painted with a myriad of lights, held not a single constellation familiar to me. Hopefully, my watch would pass with no issue under such an alien sky. Book 2: The Coming Storm [Part 1] To miss a night¡¯s sleep is to gain a dark day. - Attributed to Lady Aelayah of House Salahaem. The night was uneventful, much to my relief. Our patrols around the camp encountered no hidden enemies. No bandits or monsters lay in wait for us out on the quiet plains. Alone, with a simple torch for company, I practiced what magic I could and tried to make some inroads in growing my arcane might. Taking stock of my progress, something I had neglected to do for quite some time, I noted that my experience points had surpassed the three thousand mark, but beyond that, there were no significant developments of note. My Identify spell, however, gave me a glimmer of an idea. Maybe, with a focused effort of will, I could manage to either reorganize or, at the very least, remove some of the redundant skills cluttering my interface. The sibilant voices that had been with me for so long fell into an uneasy silence at the thought. I mentally tinkered with my least-desired skill, Mining, attempting to banish it from view. Suddenly, a sharp, piercing pain tore through my head. Just as abruptly as it had arrived, it disappeared. Had I deleted the skill? No, that was not my intention. All I had wanted to do was push it from view. Panicking a little, I quickly willed it back. Sharp pain returned, but through tear-filled eyes and gritted teeth, I saw that the skill had come back into view with it. Despite the discomfort, my experiment had been successful. Now, if I so chose, I could edit what my user interface displayed. The powers that be did not appreciate me playing with their gifts, but I had finally attained a degree of control over my user interface, an achievement that had long eluded me. A measure of independence. Nonetheless, it was not an experience I was eager to revisit anytime in the near future. This uneventful state of affairs persisted into the following day, and also the day after that, making for an unbearably tedious existence. With nothing to do, I even endured another splitting headache to hide the Mining skill again. This time I would not be bringing it back! Later in the evening, I ambled over to Ankhset''s wagon, only to be rebuffed by her children. They informed me that she was engaged in deep meditation and would not be receiving visitors. I wondered if there was a particular task I needed to complete to gain access to this elusive NPC, or if perhaps I needed to bring along the more-intimidating Kidu or the more-charismatic Larynda to finally talk with the mage. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. The only respite from the tedium came in the form of the evening meals, where I could finally unwind. However, even in these moments of respite, Larynda would pester me incessantly, eager to hear more stories from my world. More often than not, I would give in to Larynda''s persistent requests. Kidu would pretend to be uninterested, but I could see his genuine curiosity as he leaned forward, captivated by the tales. There was something enticing about performing for an audience, so eager and enthusiastic. I couldn''t help but wonder how high Larynda''s Charisma attribute must have been to affect me so strongly before I refocused on my own storytelling. During the nights, once I was certain that Kidu and Larynda were both sound asleep, I would cast Drain on Larynda to replenish my magical reserves. This in turn enabled me to cast a Greater Heal spell to repair the minor damage caused by the Drain spell. I convinced myself that this was both a productive way to train my magic and at the same time contribute to developing Larynda''s Constitution. One day, much to Larynda¡¯s delight, someone had even found the girl child some horse tack. A faded blue cloth and a worn leather saddle were attached to an uncomplaining Patches, along with a soft hackamore. What the girl lacked in experience and skill she made up for in balance, following the instructions of a group of children who laughingly called her their ¡®Great Sage.¡¯ Children played childish games. Then we saw them. Under the serene expanse of a cloud-speckled blue sky, we observed distant moving dots on the horizon. Likam, one of the guards, speculated that it could be another trading party, like us, endeavoring to traverse the Green Road earlier in the season. According to the veteran, such an occurrence was a rarity, but not an entirely unprecedented one. Now, able to at least not embarrass myself in the saddle, I was assigned to the rear guard of the caravan. My borrowed mount, named Mouse, was thankfully an obedient and placid horse. Mouse was about fourteen hands high, and had gentle eyes that looked at me with a mother¡¯s patience. She had a uniform dull brown coat, with a barrel chest and an ambling gait that forgave my poor seat. I was given strict instructions, by Arik, not to fight on horseback in the unlikely event that trouble should find us. To my relief, trouble did not find us that day, but I felt that it was drawing closer. Something was not quite right. This tedious peace was merely the quiet before the coming storm. Book 2: The Coming Storm [Part 2] The next day, a small group of dots could be seen moving in our direction, and Khalam hissed that they may be an overly-enthusiastic party of the Tides, fresh young blood looking to harass and extort the merchant trains that passed these ways. They would prove their place in the world with violence, or at least the threat of violence. It was the way of the Grass Sea, and the caravan was prepared to act accordingly. Jasper, Khalam¡¯s second, estimated they would catch up to us on the morrow. Although the caravan for the most part was almost indolently cavalier in their attitude about the whole thing, they would not find Kidu and me unprepared. The next morning, instead of moving out as usual, the caravan remained in its nightly defensive formation. The fast-moving dots from the day before had transformed into a group of horsemen moving steadily closer. At that pace, they would be upon us in a few hours. My group prepared for the potential confrontation, and even Larynda had picked up on the cues and begun sharpening a small steel knife. We had told her to stay back and leave the fighting to those more capable, to which she sullenly agreed. The caravan was prepared to meet the riders. As the advancing horsemen drew closer, I instructed Kidu to keep out of sight and for Larynda to remain in the wagon. Kidu positioned himself behind one of the large wagons, his left hand holding his bow, with three long arrows at the ready. With a huff, Larynda retreated into our wagon. At this distance, I could discern that the group was composed of two distinct factions. One half of the approaching warband wore grimy white tabards over their armor and were outfitted in a more "Western" style, while the other half were equipped with the armor and gear that were typical of the Tides. Their horses were lathered with sweat and came to a halt approximately twenty paces away from the circle of wagons. In the midst of their party, my gaze fell upon a warrior adorned in exquisite plate-and-mail, delicately chased with gold. With a gentle motion, she removed her helmet, revealing a breathtaking woman whose stunning appearance stood in stark contrast to the rugged company she was in. In that fleeting instant, the chaotic thoughts of warfare and brutality dissolved, consumed by the mesmerizing vision before me. Even from afar, the alluring contours of her face drew the eye, and the vibrant shock of fiery red hair blazed like a torch. Self-consciously, my gaze drifted down towards the dull-colored robes that covered my armor, and I fidgeted with the heavy bevor around my neck. My robes would serve to obfuscate the weak points of my armor and, to all appearances, I must have looked like some sort of poor mendicant warrior monk. Stolen novel; please report. A feeling close to d¨¦j¨¤ vu enveloped me. So entranced was I, that I barely noticed another of their number. Bound upright to a horse was yet another familiar face, though he looked a little worse for wear. Bruised and battered, Elwin was the very embodiment of painful despair, his expression hollow and haggard. With the Rogue in their company, the small warband''s intentions were made clear. I gave a subtle nod to Kidu, who had also noticed our old comrade in their ranks. One of the Tide warriors, an unscarred and youthful man, had his crested bronze nasal helm tucked under one arm. Clad in the full panoply of war, he wore an impressive iron coat of circular plates gilded with copper and silver, all sewn onto a tough leather backing. In his dominant hand, he held a long lance that was grounded in his right stirrup. The tasseled head of his weapon was a slash of iron in the morning sun. He looked confident and strong, with an air about him of someone filled with self-belief and fueled by ambition. The leader of this band, if I was not mistaken. With a clear voice that showed none of the strain of his long ride, he addressed the caravan in a ringing voice, ¡°We are searching for a man. An escaped slave, foul brigand of ill-repute, and we believe him to be among your number. I would speak to whoever leads this group.¡± With this exclamation, at least in my mind, violence now was all but inevitable. Laes rode out to meet them on his horse, with two mounted guards at each flank. Despite his usual strong demeanor, there was a barely hidden nervousness about him. It made me wonder if this was all pre-planned, a convoluted scheme to capture me when I was at my most vulnerable. I held my breath, itching to take direct action. Instead, I chose the wiser path, casting Identify on the leader to gauge the threat he presented. The upcoming exchange had me on edge, and I waited with bated breath for what would come next.
Tarkhan Aigiam - Waverider [Human lvl.11]
Health: 142/144 Stamina: 36/37 Mana: 8 / 8
¡°May the winds favor you. Would you give this one, Laes of the Ravens, the honor of your name that we may address you properly?¡± replied the caravan master, his words almost as stiff as his seat in the saddle. ¡°Lesser merchant, you may address me as Waverider Tarkhan Aigiam, Captain of the 9th Lance¡­¡± he answered with no small amount of contempt, somehow able to look down his nose at Laes, despite their positions of similar height. He took a moment to confirm his smug superiority before continuing in his ringing voice, and the stallion beneath him stamped its foot as it felt its rider¡¯s aggression, ¡°We know he travels under your colors, petty coin-counter. Bring him out, or you will know what is to go against the Tides.¡± Book 2: The Flight of an Arrow [Part 1] The landing of an arrow upon its intended target does not rest upon the arrow''s quality, nor that of the bow from which it was loosed. Neither is it dependent upon the whims of the elements, be it the gusts of wind, the torrents of rain, or even fickle fortune. Nay, it is the archer''s mind that determines the arrow''s destiny. - Valerie of the Vale from the Tales of Seven Lands circa AC 573. It is a surreal thing to prepare for violence, even for one such as I, who has drunk more than his fair share of the hot dark brew. Laes¡¯ hands were held up in the sign of peace, an opening to offer an empty denial or to bargain with his purse. Perhaps he even planned betrayal, the life of some strangers for safe passage and continued trading rights. He could probably justify it to himself as a necessary thing, for surely the lives of the people under him were worth more than the lives of a few strangers. There would be no peaceful conclusion to this encounter, I just knew it in my bones. Grimly, I nodded to Kidu, gathering the dark energies within, even as I let my hand fall - our predetermined signal to let loose. Though Laes had dealt with us fairly so far, it was too great a risk to leave things to chance, to a stranger¡¯s whim. Losing the initiative here could also prove to be fatal, and I needed every last advantage I could get. With battle as my chosen path, the world became a much simpler thing. I would force Laes¡¯ hand. Even as Kidu''s bow sang its thrumming tune, I unleashed a dark wave of entropic power that swept over the Tides horsemen, causing chaos and confusion in their ranks. One of their steeds reared, its rider thrown off in a flurry of hooves and horse flesh. Shouts of alarm reverberated throughout the field, a cacophony of fear and surprise as our unexpected assault caught them off-guard. Laes paused in a moment of dull shock, frozen, as swift-winged arrows whizzed by his face, embedding themselves in the enemy''s armor and flesh. However, he quickly regained his senses and spun his mount around, his guards close behind. They raised wooden and animal hide shields in a desperate attempt to protect themselves and their charge, and fled back towards the relative safety of the ring of wagons. The men I faced this time were not untrained, unwilling youths or cheap criminal swords for hire. They were a tested and trained group, as evidenced by their skill and disciplined bearing. Despite being under fire and caught off-guard, they charged and pursued Laes, determined to apprehend him. But their efforts were thwarted by the guards from the caravan who intercepted them with long spears, stopping their attempt and forcing them to retreat and regroup. Even with the chaos unfolding around them, the tabarded men dismounted and formed orderly lines, shields held up to protect against any errant arrows. They advanced at a controlled walk, grim and uniform in their step. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Though the two groups had ridden here together, it was clear to me from their disparate actions and their lines of battle that they were unused to, or unwilling to, fight together. Perhaps we could use this to our advantage. One enemy at a time, I thought as I smiled under my visor. It was time to start with the head of one of the snakes. With my first spell complete, I sought to draw once more from my well of magic, and launched a Drain spell at the young leader Tarkhan. The tentacles of ebon midnight found him across the field of violence, snapping into him with hungry delight. The sibilant dark voices in my head all but howled in ecstasy as his very life force was siphoned into me. Composite recurve horse bows, their small size belying their considerable power, exchanged fire with Kidu¡¯s longbow and the other projectile weapons of the caravan guards. The Waveriders of the Tides were circling the ring of wagons, shooting from the saddle with masterful skill. One of the guards threw a small throwing spear, a jarid I believe, that narrowly missed one of the galloping enemy Waveriders. For his attempted valor, the guard received an arrow in return, the head piercing through a gap of the lamellar at his chest and taking him out of the fight. Tarkhan was looking less confident now, his face growing paler by the moment. With my ¡®upgraded¡¯ Identify spell I could see my Drain spell steadily leeching away at his Health, Stamina, and Mana. Still, he heroically exhorted his men, urging them to continue with their efforts as they exchanged arrows with the Ravens. I tried casting another Drain spell on Tarkhan again, but the spell failed to take hold. It seemed that I could not double up on its effects, so I redirected the magic to a nearby horseman. Suddenly there was a cry of ¡°Ware the witch!¡± and an arrow skittered across my heavy helm. More and more arrows fell around me and I raised my kite shield against the steady assault, a few arrows thunking heavily into the wood. Thrumming with stolen energy, I looked across at the formation of steel getting closer. They marched in almost perfect lockstep, a well-oiled machine of discipline, iron, and flesh. The tabarded men were clad in hard metal and thick gambeson, a design of crossed swords at their chest. At the center of their formation was the distinctive woman, a delicately thin longsword with a wide upturned crossguard now wielded in both of her hands. Even in the whirlwind of battle, my attention was drawn to her. To her left was a broad, thick-set man, his heavy armor making him look like a metal golem. He had a spiked crescent axe in one hand and a heater shield in the other. His copper gilt epaulets denoted his rank, possibly as the woman¡¯s second, I thought to myself. ¡°Knight-Sergeant Mistevan, remember we are here to deliver him alive to the Cardinal! Get these savages to stand down!¡± shouted the armored woman over the din, her eyes flashing fire. The hulking brute did not even turn in her direction, but simply stiffly saluted. His heavy helm restricted his vision, so he lifted his visor with the edge of his hand. From this distance, I saw only his rough-hewn features and white teeth that were a surprising contrast to his dark beard. ¡°Stand down, Crows or whatever you savages like to call yourself! Stand down, horsemen of the Tides. The Church of Avaria, the great Goddess, demands that you all cease immediately,¡± he shouted, his voice a throaty bark that cut across the clash of steel and flight of arrows. Book 2: The Flight of an Arrow [Part 2]* But fate¡¯s die had already been cast, and there would be no ceasing to this fight until one side was broken. A shrill, ululating cry came from Tarkhan that invigorated his men and defied the order. The vicious horsemen did not cease circling the ring of wagons, and they kept shooting barrages from their deadly bows. Hate, a bitter hot thing, filled me - at these people who had come for me. Who sought to punish me for the temerity of wanting to be free. Hate was subsumed by a new emotion. A line of dark power joined me to yet another being, and even more euphoria filled me, along with a feeling of invincibility. With this magic, I had transcended the realms of mortals. Fueled by my burgeoning confidence, I smashed the shafts of the arrows embedded into my shield with the haft of my Tsengelt-tum, my heavy mace-flail. Advancing alone out of the protective ring, I went to smite my enemies. Death was not a thing to be avoided, but an enemy to be fought and defeated. I did not need to hide behind the protection of the wagons like the womenfolk. I was a god of war. Or at least I thought I was. Something blindsided me with the fury of a landslide. A charging horse had bowled me over and knocked me to the ground. From the corner of my eye, I saw a heavy cavalry saber flicking down, only to skid across my helm with a shriek of metal, before the rider wheeled away. Though failing to brain me, the impact rattled me to my core, as the force of the blow was wedded to the speed and mass of his mount. Despite all of this, I had lost only around ten percent of my Health, a considerable, but not lethal, amount of damage. Even as I began to pick myself up, I noticed that my own health was ticking back up. Laughing with battle madness, I realized it would take more than a horse at full charge to take me out of the fight. Then the gods decided to punish me again for my hubris, as my latest curse came to haunt me. The damnable half-elven child Larynda decided to enter the fray. Eyes closed and standing between two of the wagons, she held one of her magic seals in front of her face. With a look of grim determination, she began chanting in an ethereal and alien voice that spoke of more than just a simple invocation. Her unruly mop of yellow hair rose, fluttering in rhythm to an unseen power. I simply had to know the words that she spoke. It pulled at me, this hungering curiosity, making me let loose an Identify. The questing tendrils of insight found her voice and sated this new and strange hunger. ¡°I ask the seal, who are you?¡± Larynda asked of her magic, in a voice that came to me as a bare whisper. Mana, the source of all magic of this world, answered in a booming voice that held no sound but could be heard by all with the gift-spark, ¡°I am the spears of the Deep Places. Wrath made shining crystal¡­¡± This was the last I heard of the voice. Something sharp pierced through the back of my leg and erupted out of the meat of my upper thigh, impaling my limb. A lance of pain punched through the mental protection of my Pain Nullification skill. I screamed in agony and saw that a jagged crystal shaft had sprouted from the ground and had gone straight through my leg. The glassy material was slowly filling with crimson, its surface growing opaque and misty. All around me chaos roared in triumph, as a forest of spears sprung out from around the wagons, targeting everything indiscriminately. Men and horses were impaled upon thick crystal lances, their screams of pain echoing around as the fighting ceased for a few moments. Some, however, had been silenced instantly. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The spell had brought Sergeant Mistevan¡¯s formation into disarray as the magical spears wounded and killed men. For a few moments, silence reigned supreme. For the first time, I saw the true disaster that magic could sow. What on earth was that? Surely, with Larynda at only level five, such a display was impossible? Shock, hate, and yes, even envy whirled about in me as I looked upon the small girl who had unleashed the storm. The child was now the object of every combatant¡¯s attention. A cry of pain cut through the silence, followed by a horse¡¯s scream. Then a barked order, followed by another, as the cacophony of conflict took up arms once more. For these were no new recruits, but hardened men, well versed in the ways of war. Magic was a rare, but not completely unheard of weapon in this world. And against such a powerful display of magic, the only option was to charge or to retreat. It was a credit to their discipline and devotion that they chose to charge, zealous fire in their eyes as they smashed against the caravan defenders¡¯ thin line. Larynda looked at the devastation she had wrought, trapped and frozen in shock. An arrow flew from a lethal compound bow at her, its song of promised death a whistle on the wind. Kidu, stout of heart and a better man than me by far, threw himself in front of her. His great bulk shielded the child from a hail of arrows let loose by the remaining riders who had escaped the newly-grown crystal forest. Again and again, feathered shafts sprouted from his back, and I feared for his life. The great warrior Kidu lay still upon the ground. In a rare moment of selflessness, I thought only to go to my friend¡¯s side. Urgently, I called upon a Power Strike, which barely drained my prodigious Stamina, using the force of the skill to smash the crystal trapping me to the ground. My shield raised above me, I painfully hobbled over. Something inside of me, a whisper of an angelic voice, told me that even Greater Heal would not be enough. More was needed. I had to rely more on the light than the darkness of the void. With great regret, like a drunk who had to let go of his favorite bottle, I forced the unwilling Entropic Aura back inside me, binding it to my will with a feral howl. In counterpoint to the dark spell, I cast Holy Aura. My fingers wove strange patterns in the air and called the spell into existence. An air of righteousness filled me, and the symphony of Heaven¡¯s power became visible for all to see as motes of light played about me. Time seemed to cease its endless march for a moment, and I focused on what I had to do next. I called upon the power of Greater Heal and the golden song of angels echoed with my own. The energies from the spell harmonized and entwined with the notes from my Aura, building up with celestial power. Then the flood came¡ªthe release of all of that power. I laid my hands on my friend, and the surge of righteous healing poured into the massive form of Kidu. All thoughts of battle left me. All that was important was for this character to live. With gritted teeth, I mentally pushed away the notifications that clouded my vision.
You have learned Holy Aura (lvl.2)
While Heaven¡¯s gold infused me, the chittering of the dark voices abided. No whispers clouded my thoughts, only a need to do what was right urging me to action. The rush of healing energy caused the wild man¡¯s body to glow brightly, and the deadly shafts that had nearly ended his life were expelled from his body as the spell closed his wounds with its auric light. As his chest rose and fell, I knew that he was safe for the moment, and so too was the life that he protected. Book 2: Divine Fury [Part 1] Known far and wide as the manifold goddess, the bringer of bounty, and the dread mother of monsters, Iasis commands a most-complex and enigmatic reputation. Depending on the land in question, she is held either in deep reverence or vile scorn. Many of the old tales credit the vibrant life of Gesthe to her divine intervention, while others blame her for every ill wind and calamity that has ever befallen the world. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. My remaining enemies advanced upon me, and a lone Tides warrior dismounted and charged at me with a berserker¡¯s scream. This was foolish, for I was Justice made manifest upon this plane. This was the thought that entered my mind, a thought that was not quite my own. A fanatic¡¯s rage filled me and I deflected a strike from a heavy curved sword and countered with a Power Strike. Then another, and another, and another - in a savage combination. My weapon, a holy tool of divine fury, smashed through the thin platelets of lamellar and crushed through to the bone. The nameless enemy died pathetically, gurgling sweet nothings to the world in his own blood.
You have slain a Human 15 experience gained. You have learned Flail (lvl.3) You have learned Maces (lvl.3)
Waving the notifications away, I saw through the haze of my growing fury that my Stamina had dropped precipitously low. It seemed that with rapid use, Power Strike drained far too much of my Stamina. This was the price for using skills in rapid succession. My Drain continued to leech energy from Tarkhan, and my Stamina began to claw back up in time with each breath I took. The battle was far from done, and only a few seconds later Tarkhan charged me, along with one of his men. The young commander¡¯s youthful features had grown sallow, and fear and desperation haunted his eyes. He engaged me with a weak roar, his strikes slow and filled with fatigue. It stood to reason; his Health, Stamina, and Magic were all but drained. The man was but a light blow away from entering the afterlife and being added to my experience total. However, the soldier at his side, who struck at me with a rounded ball mace, was still relatively fresh. Unlike Tarkhan, he presented to me a completely different proposition. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. They worked in tandem. Tarkhan, slow as he was, acted as a distraction to give the other man openings, and his spear provided the range to fend me off. Fighting against more than one opponent, no matter how weakened one of them was, was exponentially more difficult. To counter them, I had to move my shield constantly, the mace-flail in my other hand providing little in the way of defense. Even as I fought the pair, the rest of the conflict devolved into a general melee. The combatants had taken the fight inside the ring of wagons. Making a wide sweeping strike, to create space, I broke off from the pair who had been hounding me. Luckily, Tarkan and his partner were cut off by the spears of the guards. Two fellow guards, near Larynda and Kidu, rushed to their side. I raised my shield to help protect them as we dragged the pair back to the relative safety of the armed and grim-faced womenfolk. Having saved my companions, I returned to the fray with a shout and renewed vigor. Many of the caravan guards would earn a bonus today, I thought wryly to myself as we fought against the remaining enemies. Then something started in the enemy''s ranks, a note of sharp discord that added to the general bedlam. This chord of chaos drew a sliver of my attention, even as I blocked another strike from a round mace. ¡°Stop this! This is blasphemy. Are you all blind!? The Herald has come! You saw it yourself. He is filled with the light of heaven! I see now¡ªwe had been foolish. Who are we to go against her will!?¡± screamed the red-haired woman, the righteous fervor of a divine epiphany in her voice as she tried to stop her men. ¡°Silence, Cordelia! What is this foolish talk of following the will of Heaven? I have my own orders from the Cardinal. Interfere with those, and even you will be deemed a heretic to go against his divine word,¡± shouted Sergeant Mistevan sternly, his voice a deep, angry bark as he parried a guard''s spear thrust. I had to divert my attention away from their exchange as Tarkhan and his lackey fought their way to me. Noticing that I was momentarily distracted, Tarkhan made a last, desperate move and charged me. From his expression, he must have been saving something up, perhaps out of ingrained heroism or sheer spite. The young man lunged desperately at me, his spear seemingly appeared to strike at three places at once. It was impossible to cover all the angles of attack, and one of the spearheads found its mark. The sharp point split through the chainmail links at my thigh, dropping me to one knee and doing twenty points of damage to my Health. It was but a drop in the ocean. My dark magic ate away at the last of his remaining Health, ending his life even as the newly-inflicted wound scabbed over. Laughing, I rose again on steady feet.
You have slain Tarkhan Aigiam 15 experience gained.
Book 2: Divine Fury [Part 2] His lackey wavered and was only a few moments from breaking. Worriedly, he looked for support from some corner. It was support that would never come. My Stamina had recovered significantly and I was struck upon a new idea. Power Strike was a skill that could be used both armed and unarmed. It was time to use it a little creatively. I used Power Strike, imagining kicking down against the ground, and in essence, causing me to jump forward at a great speed. Launched forward, I met my opponent with a crash, knocking him over. We fell into a clanking heap of flailing limbs. Straddling the man, I lifted my shield with both hands and smashed the edge into his face. Again, and again, my shield rose and fell, smashing bone and flesh into a bloody pulp until I got the notification of his death.
You have slain a human 15 experience gained. You have learned Shields (lvl.3) You have learned Dash (lvl.1)
¡°The venal Mauros thinks only of himself, and of power and worldly gain. So be it. If you seek to go against the will of, and side with the words of an earthly priest, I will stop you myself,¡± the woman Cordelia cried, in a voice taut with conviction. Her words, even in the heat of battle, reached out to me. As soon as I got to my feet, a tabarded man engaged me up close, holding his sword halfway up the blade as he sought a weakness in my armor. Coming within a knife¡¯s range, he failed to find an opening, and instead ended up tackling me down to the ground. We rolled around together on the grass, each searching for an advantage. What he lacked in strength, he made up for slightly in skill, leveraging joints and using locking techniques to try to overpower me. It was not enough, for I had found the knife at my hip. I slipped the wavy blade under his thick gorget, the weapon finding its way to his throat like an unwelcome guest, and ended his life.
You have slain a Human 20 experience gained You have learned Unarmed Combat (lvl.5) You have learned Daggers (lvl.4)
My body was thrumming with power, seeking more violence as I rode a high of adrenalin and raw life force. Something within me had changed; the Unarmed Skill, having reached level five, had changed me somehow. This feeling was soon confirmed, as I was given another notification. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
You have learned Improved Unarmed Combat (lvl.1) You have gained 10 experience.
I raised my shield to block another arrow, as I quickly read the notification. A quick glance at the rest of my interface showed that it had supplanted the basic Unarmed skill. I was delighted that my battlefield experimentation had given me a new useful skill, Dash. I had enough Mana to cast a few more spells. It would be churlish of me not to use them. Skulking in the corner of my mind, as if in hiding, was my Rust spell, its existence almost completely forgotten. I would have the magic do some work this day. Like a hound of war, my Entropic Aura was straining at its leash and begging to be let loose. So let loose it was, and the insidious waves of energy pulsed with me at its center. I saw a soldier who was engaged with a caravan guard, and targeted him with the full force of my Rust spell. Dark bolts of hungering lightning mixed with the pulses of Entropic energy. Unerringly, the magic found its mark. The mouthwatering smell of roast pork, an aroma at odds on the battlefield, filled my nostrils. The soldier writhed on the ground, cooking in his own armor as it oxidized at an accelerated rate. The guards who had been engaging the soldier turned almost green, and my face lit up with a smile, full of satisfaction. It was a few long moments until the tabarded soldier went to meet with his goddess, his agonized death cries a sweet song that finally stilled when the caravan guard put him out of his misery.
You have slain a human 7 experience gained.
A quick glance at my Status showed that I was still very much in fighting condition.
Health: 249/288 Stamina: 23/63 Mana: 4/14
The tabarded men wavered for a moment, confusion and division running rampant through their ranks as their leaders argued with each other, even as they fought a resisting enemy. They were unsure of whose orders to follow. Unfortunately, the greater portion of their number seemed to be Knight-Sergeants men, as most of the unengaged soldiers moved to support him. ¡°Hubris to think that you would know of her wishes, little Goddess. We know that you bear that sword only because you spread your legs for his Eminence,¡± spat back Knight-Sergeant Mistevan. The red-haired woman snarled back at this, raised her long slender sword, no longer seeking restraint but satisfaction, and answered with violence. Book 2: At the End of the Day They talk of the separation between her Church and State! Utter nonsense, I say! The Church without her knights would be like without her blades. - Attributed to Cardinal Mauros. Cordelia moved like swift-loosed lightning, her blade flashing in the late morning sun as it arced in descent. It struck Mistevan¡¯s shield with a greater force than could be expected for such a slim weapon, biting deep and gouging a great rent in the metal and wood. Unperturbed, the Knight-Sergeant struck back with a businesslike chop of his axe. I saw another caravan guard, a jovial fellow named Timur, fending off two soldiers equipped with swords and shields. He was a dab hand at cards, and rather pleasant to game with, so I rushed to his aid. The tabarded soldiers, the features of their heavy helms reminiscent of faceless metal monsters, would make short work of Timur, unless I stopped them. Charging in with a Shield Bash, I caught the soldier to Timur¡¯s left unawares, almost bringing him to the ground with the force of my assault. They were certainly a cut above the rest of the fodder, as the soldier to the right broke off for a moment to cover his ally. The guard gave me a quick nod of thanks, appreciation that the odds were now evened. The striking red-haired woman moved with a grace that was at odds with her heavy armor, performing well-timed single and two-tempo ripostes and strikes. She lured Mistevan with a weak hanging guard, only to roll her thin blade around her wrist to then slash diagonally across his visor, momentarily stunning him. One of his subordinates stepped in to cover him and she was pressed to defend herself, her sword circling defensively to keep the lesser soldiers at bay. It was probably at this point that something broke within the remaining warriors of the Tides. Without their leader, they had lost their discipline and purpose, and the horror of the crystal spears had been simply too much for them. In the face of such magic, the taste of battle lost its appeal to them and they broke off from the engagement. Or tried to, at least. Some of them tried to ride double, to escape on what horses remained. They were chased down by Alik and the heavy spike of his war pick, and the lances of the other guards stabbed into those who had turned tail. The other Tides warriors who tried to limp away were cut down by the arrows and jarids of the guards. Truly, the tides had changed in our favor. The tabarded soldiers were, however, a different story. Seeing the fate that followed those who fled, a sense of grim determination stole over them. At their core, however, the dissonant note of discord only grew in volume, as Cordelia continued to fight for whatever she believed in. As if following a preordained script, her blade rose and fell in a circling and slashing dance as she moved among the melee. Timur, in a seemingly versed stroke of brilliance, lured the soldier to the left and caused him to stumble over a nearby corpse. His ally on the right tried to cover him, but the flail head of my weapon looped over his shield and struck him across his helm. It was enough to disorientate him, giving the caravan guard precious seconds to finish off the man who had lost his footing. With two against one, the soldier¡¯s fate was written across his face, the grim lines of acceptance clear for all to see. He still fought gamely, but his existence ended when I blocked one of his desperate strikes with my shield. This allowed Timur to grapple him down. Dropping my mace, I drew the dagger at my waist and, with my comrade''s assistance, I stabbed him in the armpit. My knife found a bloody path through the links of mail, striking deep into an artery and ending his life. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
You have slain a Human 7 experience gained.
Real combat against a real opponent was the most-stringent of teachers. Under its tutelage, I was slowly learning how to use my weaponry and equipment to their fullest. My kite shield was more than just a defensive tool; it could be used offensively to disrupt the flow of combat and to create other avenues of attack. On the other side of the fight, the woman was fighting well, parrying or avoiding attacks, and letting her elegant armor absorb the blows when she had to. It was an education in fighting in heavy armor. Her fighting style was strange, to say the least, favoring downward circling strikes that hit with the strength of an ogre, crushing through guards and shields. Only the Knight-Sergeant Mistevan, it seemed, could repel those downward strikes to some degree. For all this, she was still hard-pressed. Either exhaustion or the sheer press of numbers would wear her down, eventually. The caravan guards were slowly mopping up the remaining zealots, viciously finishing them off whenever they had a chance. The end was in sight, our victory all but certain. All that was left were the last gasps of this bloody drama. Something about seeing a beautiful woman fighting off a group of armed men pulled at me. The part of me that dared called itself a man pushed me to rush to her assistance. Her noble struggle was a cry to direct and immediate action and, throwing caution to the wind, I charged in to aid her. This was simply the protective instinct, born from the time when men still rutted in caves like animals. Or simple vainglory. Nonetheless, it felt right. It felt just. What happened next was a brutal flurry of heavy steel, punches, and kicks. The other guards, drawn by my charge, followed me and crashed into the confused enemy. In the heat of the melee, there was no time for the subtle manipulation of magic or clever strategies, only the call of battle that thrummed through my limbs and commanded me to fight with rabid viciousness. I could only vaguely remember Mistevan¡¯s last moments. For my mind painted them all in the impressionist hues of a crimson song as he was pulled down by our coordinated assault. A flurry of notifications passed me, heavy with the weight of my actions.
You have slain a Human 7 experience gained. You have slain a Human 7 experience gained. You have slain a Human 3 experience gained. You have slain a Human 3 experience gained. You have slain a Human 7 experience gained. You have slain a Human 7 experience gained. You have slain a Human 3 experience gained.
Finally, as the storm of violence passed, there was only the red-headed woman left. She was surrounded by the wounded and the fallen. Taking off her helm, she looked upon me with a face filled with complete and utter adulation and went down on bended knee before me. I could only look back at her in horror, thankful that my reaction was hidden by my helm. Book 2: The Will of the Goddess [Part 1] In the long, long ago, there was only darkness and the void. No light from Sahel, nor from his brothers and sisters. There was only nothing and the once-eternal great silence. Out of the lonely silence grew a single drop of water. This drop grew into a stream, then into the River. Thus, Time was born. Now there was Water, Darkness, and the binding thread that was the River of Time. These elements grew together, ever intertwining, until one day there was Air, the Laughter on the Wind. - The Birth of the Gesthe, by an unknown author. The shock took me in a sudden squall of emotion. Surprise, anger, vitriol, and dread flooded through me, as memories once suppressed rose to the fore. This close, even covered by mud and dirt, the familiar beauty of the terrifying goddess from long ago shone through it all. Before me was the vision of , clad in mortal flesh, and I was taken aback by her terrifying countenance. The divine avatar of Avaria, her armor fashioned from fine, delicate plate, now stained with the blood of her enemies. Yet even in this state, her form was visible through the blacksmith''s artistry, the subtle curves and contours of the steel skin accentuating a fierce femininity. Memories of the past and present superimposed, twisted, and intertwined together, adding to my confusion and stopping my breath. The sibilant voices, now familiar friends, rejected the reality before me. The voices shrieked a denial in my mind. Together, as a dark choir, they told me that this was not truly . This was merely an opportunity to be exploited. Mental exhaustion fell heavily on my shoulders, as I struggled to silence the internal cacophony. ¡°Herald, please forgive the sinners their willful ignorance. They have met judgment and paid for their sins with their meager lives,¡± said the shadow of , the one the armored men had called Cordelia. At a loss for words, I waited for her to continue, ¡°I humbly offer my name, Cordelia de Aserac, Knight of the Order of the Penitent Heart. All my life, I have waited to be graced with your coming. came to me in a dream, and told me of you when I was but a girl¡­ I have¡­¡± she paused, a storm of emotions leaving her bereft of control for a moment, her face red with embarrassment. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Forgive me, oh lord, take my life for my impertinence. I am not worthy!¡± she wailed, in the throes of religious ecstasy. Her face was flush with desire as she clutched at the hem of my dirtied robe. The initial shock had now left me, and nonplussed as I was, I could see that this was not Avaria. The hair, of a shorter cut and color, the voice that did not command reverence, the aura of humility, and the lack of agelessness around her eyes informed my mind of the stark truth. Before me was a woman who possessed divine beauty, but was mortal, nonetheless. Eyes glinting with revenge, the men from the caravan, and even some of the women, had started going around and ruthlessly finishing any of our attackers who remained in this world. Unsurprisingly, I heard quite a few of their number mention Larynda with tones of awe, the devastation of the child¡¯s spell clear for all to see. A few of them paused from their grisly work and formed behind me, their presence a comfort and support. In their eyes, I could see that hesitation had found fertile soil, and that they looked unsteady and unsure. Some fingered their weapons or postured threateningly, but I doubted they looked forward to having to kill a woman. ¡°Relieve her of her weapons and let us bring her to the caravan master. I would have his opinion on the matter,¡± I commanded in what I hoped was a stern voice. ¡°I have seen your light, and I know of your truth! Many times has graced me with visions of you. This is her will! I know it to be so. This is how it should be. All I wish is to serve as your sword against the night! How may I show you the depth of my faith?! My belief in you?¡± the woman wailed, her beauty twisted by sudden sorrow. With a swiftness that startled us all, she lunged at me, brandishing a long knife and catching me completely off-guard. The guards swiftly unsheathed their weapons, their actions producing a metallic rasp in response. We found ourselves encircled by the glint of sharp steel. She seized my hands with an animalistic strength, fueled by her fervor, pulling them towards her. For a moment I thought she had come to end my life or to take me hostage, but what followed shocked everyone. Desperate tears were tracking a path down her face and she placed the point of the dagger, a poniard, at her own throat. Book 2: The Will of the Goddess [Part 2]* ¡°If you do not believe me, then this life, this existence, has no meaning. I give myself to you, as is the will of ,¡± she proclaimed, her gaze locked on mine. She pressed the dagger''s point to her throat, drawing a single droplet of crimson blood. In that moment, the panicked cries of the guards faded into nothingness. The rest of the world ceased to exist. The space seemed to be occupied only by her, me, and the resounding truth of her declaration. Was this a chance to get another NPC companion? I mentally rubbed my hands in glee. True, she had been a part of the attacking force, initially, but she had quickly changed her allegiance once she had seen my Holy Aura. On the other hand, this could be another of Avaria¡¯s foul schemes¡­ I would have to be careful. She seemed like she was a fanatic, and fanatics, in my opinion, always had a screw loose, but then again she did not look half-bad¡­ at the very least I could be getting a magic item. Some of the guards moved cautiously behind her. Even with the blade still at her throat, she swiveled around to face them, drawing me unwillingly with her. She shot them a deathly glare, eyes heavy with lethal warning, causing them all to visibly stiffen. The air grew tense. Seeking to avoid further conflict, I tried to defuse the situation, ¡°If you truly believe me to be your lord, you will surrender your arms to these men, for the moment at least. I will see them returned to you later¡­ once I have discussed the situation with the master of this caravan.¡± I hoped that my delivery did not betray the sense of unease that I felt. ¡°It will be as you command,¡± the woman warrior half-whispered in a voice full of awe and revelation, shivering at being given a direct command. She withdrew the dagger from her own throat, releasing my hands, and sheathed the long knife at her waist. She was meek and unresisting now, and the guards were able to remove her weapons. They took the sword from her back scabbard, which was an ingenious thing, made from dark leather that opened three-quarters down its length at the side. This, no doubt, allowed the weapon within to be drawn and carried with ease even when sheathed at the back. A feat that would have been impossible with a normal scabbard. What was more incredible was the double-edged sword itself. It was just under a meter-and-a-half in length, with a cruciform hilt inscribed with a delicate gold runic pattern. The weapon''s blade was fullered two-thirds down its length and tapered to a deadly tip. The metal of the blade was like that of fine watered steel. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. The caravan guards gave nods and longing sighs of appreciation at the weapon that was so perfectly matched to its bearer. So intrigued was I, that I decided to cast an Identify on the blade with the last dregs of my Mana.
Longsword ¡®Weight of Justice¡¯ [Magic]
Durability 999/999
Truly incredible! The first magic weapon I had seen in this game and within reach¡­ I was almost salivating, thinking about getting my hands on such an elegant and deadly weapon. The guards also relieved of her simple no-nonsense poniard, which drew a much less dramatic reaction. It was a relatively long dagger, about half-a-meter from pommel to deadly pointed pit with a bronze crossguard. An efficient tool for punching through the weak points in an armored opponent. Plans were drawn, and lines of argument were made in my mind as we made our way to find Laes. He was there, in the center of it all, shouting orders at the top of his lungs and miraculously creating some measure of order from the chaos. The injured were gently loaded onto the wagons, their moans of pain a reassurance that they yet lived. The bodies of the caravan¡¯s slain were wrapped in purple shrouds and moved respectfully, if not too hurriedly, onto different wagons. Their still forms were another reminder of the thing that chased my shadow. The voices within chittered their agreement even as the caravan master shouted out orders, seeing to the logistics of getting a village on wheels to move. Khalam, the Guard Master, who was flanking me to my right, was a dour man of dark skin and middling height. He was stern in his commands and scowled often, when not deep in his cups. That same scowl was now plastered on his face as he addressed the caravan master. ¡°We have repelled the attackers, and have cut them down to a man,¡± Khalam almost spat, ¡°No doubt they were in search of this one. The nerve of him, to launch the first arrow when we could have negotiated, as we have always done. What have you done, Laes? You endanger us all in this insanity. I have not seen war magic of its like outside the campaigns of my youth. If I had known that we had a Quas-trained mage among us¡­¡± Book 2: The Will of the Goddess [Part 3] ¡°That is Caravan Master Laes to you, Guard Master Khalam. I want a report, not an opinion on how I run my enterprise. As for who struck first, it could have been one of your men, no? I could see it in that Aigiam fellow¡¯s eyes that they were not here for sport or treasure. They came for blood. But, please, Khalam, continue with your report,¡± replied Laes, the flash of annoyance in his eyes quickly smothered by his professional countenance. I saw Khalam bite down a scathing reply, his face red as he finished with his report. ¡°Caravan Master, Abdul is dead, and Catalina took an arrow to the gut. My so¡­ guard Ubaid, will likely never be able to use his sword arm again. Apart from that, we were lucky, as the rest are minor injuries. I never knew we were in the company of great mages. The little one, according to some of my men, unleashed what appeared to be a crystal forest of spears on the enemy, cutting down a great number of them. My newest guard, Gilgamesh here, seems to be one of those goddess-botherers, a High Priest if I am not mistaken, of all things. I saw him myself, fishing his companion from the Shallow River, the big northman, with temple healing,¡± reported Khalam, his voice steadily growing louder with each sentence. The names meant almost nothing to me, except for Abdul, if it was the same Abdul, who had been a fellow guard. The only thing I remembered about him was his creepy lazy eye and his wily skill at cards. ¡°I see¡­ I suspected that Gilgamesh was a man of hidden depths, and that our little lady was important. She commands a magic that I have never seen before, and so powerful for one so young¡­ I am sure Master Gilgamesh has his reasons for keeping it to himself, and I will not pry. It, however, changes nothing. I will fulfill my promise to Hamsa¡ªa trader¡¯s word is his bond. There will always be death on the trail, Khalam. Their deaths are regrettable, but they knew the risk. Khalam, I have heard that they were, in fact, not cut down to a man. We have a prisoner, do we not?¡± inquired Laes. ¡°Yes, one of their Temple knights or paladins. A priestess, if I am not mistaken. We either deal with her or give her a horse and our deepest apologies and beg for forgiveness. There will be no explaining this away, and of Justice is not kind to those who harm her servants. Gah, Laes, this is a hell¡¯s cursed mess you have gotten us into. I suspect Gilgamesh is one of their High Priests¡¯ get or something. Who am I to know of the intrigue of foreign lands? I am, after all, just a humble Guard Master,¡± answered Khalam flatly. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°Khalam, to hear you whine and whinge is unsightly. You know of my purpose, when you joined me those long years ago,¡± replied Laes, sucking in through his teeth, and his brow furrowed in worry as he turned to me, ¡°I know you have your reasons, Honored One, but I have to know, can you save the others of my train?¡± he entreated, barely able to keep the begging desperation from his voice. Remembering something Elwin said about Temple healing being valuable¡­ I realized I had a lot of leverage now. It was time to squeeze. ¡°I make no promises, but I will do what I can. But I have conditions¡­¡± I replied, looking him in the eye. ¡°Of course, anything! Err herm, within reason, of course,¡± blurted out Laes, his equine face shaded with worry. ¡°The woman warrior-knight, I want her surrendered to me. She has pledged fealty to me and I would take her on as one of my entourage. I will, of course¡­¡± I began, only to be interrupted by Khalam. ¡°That one is dangerous, Gilgamesh of Uruk. That would be like taming a Zlesh viper,¡± spat Khalam, his gray eyes narrowing in suspicion. ¡°You said it yourself, did you not? Avaria is not kind to those who harm her servants. I will, of course, take full responsibility for this Cordelia and keep an eye on her myself,¡± I added, looking at Khalam before focusing back on Laes, ¡°Her gear. I would have returned to her in its entirety. After all, you would not want to have the Church accusing you of robbery,¡± I suggested in a reasonable tone. Laes appeared to be thinking, one hand under his chin before he answered, ¡°This is indeed reasonable, if you swear upon your honor. I will hold you responsible for her good conduct while we are blessed with her company. I am assuming there is more?¡± Taking a deep breath, I thought over the current situation before I continued with my requests, ¡°Mana potions for healing those in need now. This little skirmish we had has somewhat drained me considerably of my magical energies. Also, the first choice over the spoils, and an extra silver to the wages of my companions and I.¡± The caravan master almost looked relieved at hearing my requests before he clasped me at the elbow, ¡°So it is done, Honored Gilgamesh, in deference to your people¡¯s contributions,¡± he accepted. I was genuinely surprised that he had accepted all of my conditions so quickly. It had been my plan to slip in an unreasonable request to increase the chance of the other things being accepted. Perhaps I could have squeezed them for more, but I still needed these people to get me to the city of Al-Lazar. Still, what was done was done and, at the end of the day, I am a reasonable man. Book 2: A Bitter Harvest* Born from the torrential rains of the Grieving Lands, the Green Road is a river that runs through the Whispering Wastes. As straight as an arrow in flight the water cuts through the desert with nary a bend, guiding the way to the city of Dust. Along its banks, for a period of two moons, the sands bloom in a celebration of life. It is only during this time that large caravans can safely traverse the Whispering Wastes for the Worms of the desert fear only running water. - The Fanciful Travels of Beron de Laney 376 AC. Everything seemed to be slowly falling into place, and we were well on our way again. After thoroughly pillaging the bodies of our fallen enemies, we left them for the crows and scavengers of the plains. Although exhausted, the caravan had journeyed through the night, warier of pursuit than of a broken axle. After checking on Kidu and Larynda, who were both asleep, I fulfilled my promise to Laes. Khalam shadowed me as I drank a few precious blue Mana potions provided by Laes, and laid my hands on Catalina. The girl was a young mother with mousy hair and a pretty face, but in a homely way. A small boy, perhaps seven or eight years old, was by her pallet, clutching her hand. I found the rise and fall of her chest and her moans of pain a little distracting. My eyes drifted over the lines and contours of her body, clearly seen through sheets dampened with sweat. Guiltily, I noticed her shivering from shock and that her eyes were dilated, her face an ashen hue. Annoyed with my traitorous body, I summoned the energies to heal the wound that had made a mess of her innards. As color returned to her face, I imagined I saw a smile as she slipped into the blessed realm of sleep. Perhaps by helping others, I could gain insight into avoiding my own inevitable fate¡ªmaybe even take the first step on the path to becoming endless. Despite this inspired thought, the voices within were silent on the matter. Ubaid was a completely different matter. The olive-skinned boy was very much awake and in pain. With the remains of his arm a mangled mess, he was screaming in agony. Crushed by a heavy mace, his fellows said. Luckily they had not yet amputated the limb, and my Heal spell was able to restore his arm. The boy¡¯s future was now restored, and he was reduced to a sobbing wreck, tears of relief and joy trailing down his face. Some of his fellow guards also joined him in the cathartic weeping. I must admit to a certain sense of satisfaction at being able to help my fellow man without the need to hide my powers. However, I was put off by the sight of grown men weeping womanly tears. During a lull in the night journey, I grew desperate to do more. Holding a small chunk of Zajasite close to my chest, I stole aboard the wagon carrying Abdul''s corpse. Upon examining his body, I saw that the likely cause of death was a clean slice across the windpipe. Despite this, I still hoped that I could save him. With that in mind, I cast Greater Heal, channeling divine golden energy into him. For a moment, there was a glimmer of hope as the severe wound closed, but his heart remained still. The last glimmers of life had long left him, and Death had extinguished yet another mortal spark. Alone with the corpse, I found myself weeping, more out of frustration than true sorrow. Even magic had its limits, and there were some things that could not be overcome. Yet, even if Death, with all its inexorable might, could not be defeated after the end, perhaps it could still be delayed or prevented altogether. Wasn''t the meaning of life to try, no matter how futile the effort? I resolved to continue my quest¡ªmy greater quest: the pursuit of a sliver of eternity, free from the game''s demands or the powers that be. No matter what it takes, the voices and I whispered together in unison. ***** At dawn, a small ceremony was held. Three bodies were laid on a pyre made of dry grass and fragrant wood. It seemed that Khalam''s casualty report had been wrong, the incompetent fool. The gathered crowd was somber, their eyes downcast, and only the occasional sob or wail broke the solemn silence. I grieved over my failure, trying to channel that emotion into my fresh resolve. The people of the Raven saw my face, the haunting look in it, and must have mistaken the expression for shared grief. They bowed to me, whispering ¡®Honored One,¡¯ and kept a respectful distance. Without my powers, and Larynda¡¯s magical assistance, the butcher¡¯s bill would have been much higher. Cordelia had also been busy during the night. True to his promise, Laes had returned her equipment, and as a token of gratitude, she had gone around healing some of the minor injuries in the camp. Some people had spat at her and even struck her, but none could deny the small miracles she performed. Cordelia wore the bruises and small cuts on her noble features like a badge of honor. Within a few hours, she had gained some respect, if not acceptance. The fact that she was now part of my entourage must have contributed significantly to her newfound status. As Laes set a torch to the dry grass, a blaze consumed the pyres. The smell of incense filled the air and masked the smell of cooking flesh. Prayers were said to various gods and the ceremony drew to a close. Food was served and the caravan began to make ready for another day¡¯s journey. Laes approached me once I had finished with breakfast, a worried look on his face as he asked me to come to his wagon. Tired as I was, his tone raised the hairs on the back of my neck and I followed him quickly. Opening the door, I was greeted by the sight of Khalam and a pair of guards standing over the form of the ever insouciant Elwin Tucker. A conflict of emotions warred within me as I struggled to maintain control. I had thought the Rogue dead in the forest of crystal spears. ¡°This cur says he knows, Honored One. We found him in one of the rear wagons¡± explained Khalam, his words dripping with disdain. ¡°Gil,¡± greeted Elwin. He gestured to me with his left arm, and I was shocked to discover that his left hand was missing. ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you could lend a friend a hand?¡± Taking a deep breath, I found a measure of calm, ¡°What happened to you¡­ your hand? I thought you were going back to find your family?¡± I asked, feigning false politeness. ¡°Well, about that, just as I was gathering up some funds to find a caravan going the other way, I found a bunch of religious folks, all looking for you and Kidu. Something about a Herald or some such. I thought to inquire more, to warn you of course, but one of them got right enthusiastic when I let something slip. Sorry about that,¡± he paused for a moment, and the smile faded from his face before he continued, ¡°And that¡¯s when I had to pay the Thief¡¯s Tax, courtesy of Her loving Church. I¡¯m sorry Gil, but they¡­ they¡­ Inquisitors¡­ did things,¡± he sobbed, his facade of confidence finally crumbling. ¡°And what were you doing with the group that attacked¡­¡± I began before I was rudely cut off. ¡°I say we leave this dastard to the crows. By his own words, he betrayed you. He is, as you outlanders say, a dangerous loose end,¡± spat Khalam, and for some reason, I found his words grating. There was no justice to his words. Out of contrary spite, and from a place of newfound forgiveness, I decided to challenge his words, ¡°Elwin is a friend, and as you can see he did not willingly give me up. Even the strongest of men can break under torture. I consider it a blessing that my companion yet lives,¡± my voice stern with resolution. ¡°A man is judged by the company he keeps¡­¡± returned Khalam, probably thinking himself wise and smart. ¡°Yes, followed by a peerless warrior giant and an arcane prodigy that puts your best men to shame¡­¡± I retorted, with no small pride, before Laes decided to intervene. ¡°Peace! The pair of you! This Elwin person was clearly not a willing member of the people that attacked us. That he is the Honored Gilgamesh¡¯s friend speaks to his favor. I will not allow the Ravens to execute a free man, no matter how suspect. If we keep fighting among ourselves we will never make it to the Rump, let alone cross the Wastes,¡± half-shouted Laes, as would an exasperated father to his squabbling children. Another display of power was necessary, I felt, to prove the value of my magic to the caravan. Quaffing yet another precious Mana potion, the once sweet-tasting elixir now bitter to the palette, I knew then that I was approaching what Hamsa had described as the limit to the number of potions I could imbibe. My Mana rose to eleven points. Enough for what I had to do. I went through the motions of summoning the holy power of the spell, Greater Heal, causing Khalam and the two guards to reach for their arms. Laes barked out a quick command, stopping them from further foolishness. Correcting the cruel error of Avaria¡¯s misguided followers felt right. Felt righteous, and my soul sang in acceptance. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. The interior of the wagon was bathed in the light of a false dawn and the echo of an ancient song of praise filled the air. A gold aura shrouded the stump of his wrist. Bone grew out, a skeletal frame for what followed. Then came flesh born from the holy light, wrapping around the bone only in turn to be wrapped by new skin. When the light finally died down, I saw that the spell had regenerated Elwin¡¯s missing hand completely.
You have learned Greater Heal (lvl.2)
As was my habit, I dismissed the notification as soon as it appeared, just as the guards began to mutter reverent prayers. A look of awe was plainly written on the faces of all those present. Elwin was on his knees, his eyes downcast. When the spell finally ended, Khalam simply narrowed his eyes and made to spit on the floor before he remembered his place, and was forced to swallow the bile. He had to make do with what he probably thought was a threatening grunt. ¡°I wash my hands of the whole matter. He and that wild woman are all yours. A word from the wise, best that you remember what the the Caravan Master said. Life on the road is a dangerous one,¡± he snarled before leaving the wagon, surprising the other remaining guards with the sharp words of his threat. ¡°Apologies, Khalam¡­ he used to be a believer in the gods. Even when faced with the truth, men like him will turn their back. He is still a good and reliable man, do not hold his words against him,¡± sighed Laes. ¡°Thank you, thank you, thank you¡­ Gil. So sorry, so sorry¡­ never again. I am your man, forever more,¡± repeated Elwin over and over. His new hand was shaking as if he was suffering from palsy. ¡°I have seen men like this before, I will see to his well-being. There are some wounds even the gods can not heal. You had best get some rest. I fear this day will be another long one and we have lost too much time, and too many people,¡± offered the caravan master in an assuring voice. Knowing his words for what they were, a dismissal, I politely excused myself and returned to my wagon. I took a moment to review my status before entering.
[STATUS] Calling:Gilgamesh lvl.11 Paladin/Reaver
Strength: 27 Dexterity: 22 Constitution: 39 Intelligence: 21 Wisdom: 22 Charisma: 13 Luck: 18
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.2) Power Strike (lvl.2) 10 Endure (lvl.3) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.3) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.3) Polearms (lvl.2) Dual Wield (lvl.2) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) Mining (lvl.2) Unarmed Combat (lvl.5) Improved Unarmed Combat (lvl.1) Hammers (lvl.2) Flails (lvl.3) Maces (lvl.3) Shields (lvl.3) Medium Armour (lvl.2) Heavy Armour (lvl.4) Axes (lvl.1) Daggers (lvl.4) Throwing Weapons (lvl.2) Double Throw (lvl.1) 5 Herbalism (lvl.2) Shield Bash (lvl.1) Riding (lvl.1) Dash (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) 5 Rust (lvl.3) 2 Identify (lvl.3) 1 Silent Casting (lvl.2) Mana Regeneration (lvl.2) Purify (lvl.2) 3 Greater Heal (lvl.2) 10 Holy Aura (lvl.2) 2 Decay (lvl.1) 1 Drain (lvl.4) 2 Entropic Aura (lvl.2) 2
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy - 20% to all starting attributes. Mark of the Paladin - 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical. Touch of the Void - 10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects.
Experience to next level 3137/3202
Health: 249/288 Stamina: 23/63 Mana: 1/16
Book 2: Faiths Reward [Part 1] It is only through a greater enmity that enmity is overcome. - The Traveling Scourge. Weariness hung heavily upon my bones, and my muscles were aching from the weight of the day''s burdens. I collapsed onto the carpeted floor of the wagon, the stress and strain of my exertions draining away, leaving only a liquid relief in their wake. Cordelia regarded me with concern, a desperate hungry hope in her eyes. "Are you well, my lord?" she asked, her voice filled with worry and compassion. "I am well enough, Cordelia," I replied wearily, my energy nearly spent. It took great effort to meet her gaze, but I needed answers to satisfy my curiosity. "You are Cordelia de Aserac, yes? I want you to know that the title of ''lord'' is of little importance to me. Gilgamesh or Gil will suffice." "Yes, my lord¡­ I mean, Gilgamesh. Cordelia de Aserac. Apologies, again, my lord, for being so presumptuous. To be in the company of those who would do you harm! Truly, I was an ignorant fool. For declaring myself to be your servant before¡­ I only wish to serve, yet I fear I am not worthy," she replied, her eyes downcast and voice stricken. Though being called a lord did tickle my pride, I decided that, for the sake of expediency, such a fancy title would only be an impediment to further conversation. This Herald business was also a little distracting. "Please, Cordelia. Again, Gilgamesh, or even Gil, will suffice. And rather than words, I would have you show your loyalty through action. However, for the moment, I accept your declaration of fealty," I stated magnanimously and with as much confidence as I could muster in my exhausted state. Inside, I was all but cooing with pleasure at being given another character to command as I saw fit. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of having imbibed several Mana potions in such a short time, but I had regained another point of Mana. Just enough to cast an Identify on the latest addition to my entourage.
Cordelia de Aserac - Temple Knight [Human lvl. 18] If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
Health: 213/247 Stamina: 23/37 Mana: 1/10
As I was busy being awed by her impressive attributes, I was surprised by a sudden lurch, as our wagon began to move. I had to give Laes credit; he ran a very tight ship, for we had set off far sooner than I had thought possible. "I feel your regard upon me. I pray you do not find me wanting. Truly, you are too forgiving," Cordelia rejoiced, her face growing flush with religious ecstasy. "Quite. Enlighten me, please¡ªhow were you able to find me? And do you know a man named Amon Vanes?" I inquired flatly, pausing to take a swig of water from the flask at my hip. This discussion was probably going to be a long one. Game characters did, after all, enjoy their exposition. Did I still regard these people as simply characters within the confines of a game? Such a notion caused me the tiniest twinge of guilt before my thoughts moved on to the next question. Did it matter if I saw these individuals as nothing more than a collection of data and algorithms? Yet, before I could continue down this line of idle contemplation, Cordelia''s words cut through to me. "Our penance was to scour the lands for you. However, there were those who sought to expedite the process. The leaders of the Church petitioned the seers of the River God for news of you, Herald. Venal fools, all of them seeking a shortcut through the offering of gold, for ''s trials are sacred," she intoned, her voice as smooth as silk, but with a passion and fervor in her eyes that spoke of a deep-seated belief in her cause. Me. I chose not to dwell on the hypocrisy inherent in her words, for without those same venal fools, they might never have found me at all. Lulled by the timbre of her melodic voice, I found myself drifting, feeling safe. There was a sensation of falling, followed by a glimpse of Cordelia rushing to my side. ***** Opening my eyes slowly, I was greeted by the sight of the warrior woman looking down at me, my head on her armored lap. Smiling, she continued to dab a piece of cloth across my brow. "You are awake, Your Holiness," she greeted me with a soft, contented smile. In this world, there were worse ways to be awoken. "How long?" I croaked, eyes darting around the interior of the wagon. "No more than a few minutes. You must rest. Be at ease, for your servant is with you. All is well now," Cordelia replied, her beauty magnified tenfold by her angelic smile, and her words almost hypnotic. With little reason to resist sleep''s call, I relaxed and surrendered myself to her care. Book 2: Faiths Reward [Part 2] This time, I was awakened from a sleep free of pleasant dreams and nightmares by a sudden lurching motion. Scrambling to my feet, I took in the scene before me. Kidu, like me, had been roused by the abrupt stop and had leaped up. Mere moments after waking, the Hunter had already assumed a wary stance. After taking half a second to orient myself, I noticed Larynda groggily rising and rubbing her eyes. Cordelia was sitting on her knees on the carpet beside me. "Who is this... you invite our enemies...?" Kidu began, his face a confused mixture of concentration. "Peace, Kidu. Peace. This is Cordelia, and we are no longer enemies. She has sworn herself to my service," I replied, attempting to defuse the situation. "It is as Gilgamesh the Herald says," the Temple Knight added in her soft voice. The Hunter looked at me questioningly. I simply nodded to him and gradually, after a span of a few seconds, I could see the tense muscles of his body begin to loosen and some of the strain leaving him. Larynda had moved closer to him, using him as a shield while peeking at us from behind one of his sturdy legs. ¡°I think it is best that I speak to you about what happened while you were both convalescing. And you Larynda, though our successful defense owes a great part to your contribution, your little stunt almost cost the life of one of my companions,¡± I stated, looking at all of the wagon¡¯s occupants in turn before sitting down. Following my example, and with a few more glances shot in Cordelia¡¯s direction, both Kidu and Larynda sat down. And so I told them about what had transpired. ***** I instructed the devoted Temple Knight Cordelia de Aserac to follow and obey me in all things, to demonstrate her worthiness to be by my side. To her, this was another test of faith, and nothing seemed to bring her greater joy. Cordelia revealed that, like Amon, she had received dreams from Avaria in the nights before our meeting, urging her to bring me back to the Church''s fold. But why would command her to capture her chosen, the most perfect vessel of her holy will? It was too contrary. To the female warrior-knight, the answer was simple: these visitations were mere temptations sent by the demons of the abyss to appeal to human hubris. She believed that the chosen of ¡ªme¡ªwas not someone who¡¯s purpose could be chained to mortal authority, and hers was only to obey. I was pleased to hear that she viewed Amon Vanes'' actions as a grave sin. I could almost taste Avaria''s tears. I urged Larynda to gain greater control of her remarkable powers. Although her spell had been effective, it had been a rather risky and impulsive thing, indeed, that had nearly cost both her life and the Northman''s. Better that a few guards and other nameless NPCs had met their end, rather than me losing a friend. More worryingly, the crystal spears she had summoned from her Seal had injured me amidst the chaos. Aware of children''s fragile and easily-wounded psyche, I made sure to balance my criticism with ample praise. I inquired if Cordelia had any knowledge of magic, and whether she could teach Larynda. Regrettably, she knew only a few simple prayers, bestowed upon her by - feeble incantations that could only heal minor wounds. When I further questioned her about magic, I was surprised by how readily she accepted my limited knowledge of the arcane. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. "And lo, there shall come my Herald, as if an innocent child, knowing little of this world. It shall fall upon you, my beloved children, to shelter him and show him of mortal foibles - even as he instructs you in the deeper mysteries. For this will temper Justice with Mercy, and he shall bring forth the light unto those who have long dwelt in darkness," she explained to me, quoting from a religious text and smiling, as if caught in rapture. The sword, the magical blade ''Weight of Justice,'' also piqued my interest. Another smile illuminated the beautiful woman''s face as she told us about the sacred and storied blade she wielded. In her own words, the blade was a gift from Avaria herself, forged with metal extracted from the fallen star. Blinded by her religious devotion, she explained with a knowing smile that the sword had the power to be as light as a feather in the hands of its wielder, yet have the weight and force of a mountain when striking downwards to smite an enemy. Based on her description, and the name of the blade itself, I hypothesized that the star-metal, if indeed it was made from the heart of one of the celestial bodies, was able to manipulate one of the fundamental forces of the universe, gravity. In essence, it had the limited ability to control this universal constant. According to Cordelia, only the downward strokes of the blade were so empowered. If it was a ¡®simple¡¯ matter of changing the sword¡¯s mass, then upwards and vertical strokes would have also benefited from the magic of the blade. Or perhaps it functioned as it did because the gods deigned it to be so. Religion, the delusion, was as prevalent in this world as it was in my old one. Even when faced with stark evidence to the contrary, I refused to accept that such beings were truly gods, let alone beings worthy of worship. However, there was one being who was worthy of fear¡­ I set aside those thoughts for the moment and, as a distraction, made a mental note to prioritize visiting the water witch of the caravan. Now came the daunting task of persuading the stubborn Kidu to accept our new reality. Though he was quick to accept Cordelia''s oath of fealty to me, due in no small part to her skill and strength, when it came to the thorny topic of Elwin¡¯s return, things were of a different cut of cloth altogether. Kidu was quivering with rage, while Larynda merely looked confused. The newest member of my entourage, the flame-haired Cordelia, remained sitting on her knees, calm and regal. ¡°I understand that in the face of a great storm, former enemies must become allies. But that honorless son of a¡­¡± sputtered Kidu, his rage and confusion forming a volatile mix of emotions, ¡°And you! You people did that to him!?¡± ¡°No¡­ I can¡¯t say that I was there for his inquisition. But I know the Seekers are not always kind,¡± replied the woman, avoiding his gaze before continuing, ¡°But I believe that the need was great, no matter how misguided their methods may have seemed.¡± Bristling inwardly, having perhaps received a similar ''misguided'' method of discipline, I was careful not to let my emotions show on my face. I had to be the calm one here, the cool and collected leader. "Best you direct your anger on the correct course, Northman, for I heard that the one you call Elwin did not break easily. Though I do not claim myself to be truly free from blame, I was not directly responsible for the pain or injuries he suffered. And you people of the North, though I can profess no deep knowledge, it is said that the ways of your people are no less cruel," added Cordelia calmly, braving Kidu''s wrath. "Don''t know much about yer friend, that Elwin person, but he din''t seem so bad," commented Larynda, straining her neck to look up at Kidu''s face. Finally, some support! I thought to myself before delivering my final decision to the Hunter, "I believe that despite the manner of the reunion, we have come through this trial together. Elwin is deserving of forgiveness, as is Cordelia. I find myself in need of more friends and allies than enemies. If I can find it in myself to forgive the Ro¡­ the man, then surely you can forgive him, too? At the very least, promise no violence against the man for the time being," I asked of the fearsome man, looking him firmly in the eyes to show the conviction behind my words. "Very well, I will stay my anger. But I will seek him out and learn the truth of this from his own traitorous mouth," he replied grudgingly, like a child forced to swallow a bitter pill. There was a respectful knocking at the door of the caravan, three evenly-spaced beats that punctuated the end of the discussion. Book 2: Fated Reunion [Part 1] In the vast expanse of the known lands, there exists a substance that is revered above all else. Known as Dust, it is a treasure coveted by Alchemists, philosophers, artists, clerics, and countless others whose yearnings for inspiration are boundless. Only in the vicinity of the city of Al-Lazar may the Dust be harvested, and its possession is considered a rare and precious gift. What makes the Dust so alluring is its unique ability to transport its imbiber beyond the humdrum confines of this world. With the smallest of doses, one can escape the monotony of reality and enter a dream of their own making. The Dust is a gateway to worlds beyond imagining, where the limits of the mind are shattered, and the impossible becomes possible. For those who have suffered the loss of loved ones, the Dust offers a glimmer of solace. A simulacrum of their dearly departed may be summoned in a dream, and for a fleeting moment, they are reunited with those whom they have lost. The rapture experienced by those who have partaken of the Dust has no equal. All other sensory experiences pale in comparison to the ecstasy of the dream. Truly, the Dust is a gift beyond measure, an elixir that offers a glimpse of a reality beyond our own. It is the ultimate indulgence, a wonder that has captivated the hearts and minds of all who seek to transcend the mundane and touch the sublime. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. Opening the door, I was met by a small and gangly, black-haired youth. Despite his stature, his limbs seemed inordinately long, giving him the impression of a half-starved demi-human. "Begging your pardon, Sir Gilgamesh... I mean, Honored One," he began in a nervous and reedy voice that did nothing to improve my initial impression of him. "Yes," I replied flatly, slightly annoyed at being interrupted from my discussion with my companions. "This one is Dumuzi, and I come to inform you that the evening meal will be served shortly. I bring messages from the Guard Master and our Water Mistress. They both wish to speak to you at your convenience, Honored One," he finished, bowing low, scampering off before I could ask him any questions. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Stepping out of the wagon, I saw our driver stretching, no doubt a little worn from the day''s travels. Noticing me looking in his direction, he gave me a small bow before examining the giant Xaruar, hitched to our wagons. "Many thanks for your smooth driving, Ables," I offered in greeting, an awkward pause ensuing as it took me a few moments to dredge up his name from memory. "And thanks to you, Honored One. For without you and yours, your man Ables here might have had the worst of it! I saw you out there, like one of ''em heroes out of the old stories!" he almost crooned with a crooked smile before nodding to himself and focusing on his lizard charges. Following me, my companions stepped out of the wagon. Like Ables, they stretched and breathed deeply of the fresh air. Kidu yawned like a lion, shaking the mane of his hair, which drew a few giggles from Larynda. We made our way to where our next meal was being prepared, the air between Kidu and Cordelia a little tense. Perhaps a shared meal would go some way to ease things between them. In the short time it took us to get our portions, the Temple Knight had already endeared herself to Larynda by playfully tousling her hair and allowing her to inspect her enchanted sword up close. The evening meal was a much more muted affair than usual. We were served a humble supper of flatbread and a thick, orange stew with the flavors of carrots and squash, laced with a hint of spice. Despite the ingredients used and its appetizing appearance, it really could have done with a bit more salt. We ate in silence, the air thick with tension until, unexpectedly, it was Kidu who shattered the uneasy hush. "I am Kidu Kreshin of the Three Bears, companion of Gilgamesh of the lands of Uruk. And you, who have pledged yourself to be his servant. What name do you go by?" he grunted, his gaze fixed on a point in the empty space before him. Cordelia set down her wooden bowl and turned her head, revealing a striking profile that held me rapt. "I am Cordelia de Aserac, a Temple Knight of Avaria. In the Northern Ice Wastes of the Kar-Kaphon, our goddess is known as Vari among your people, the chooser, and final judge of the slain. I am the third child and youngest daughter of Duke Everard de Aserac of Aranthia. Since I was seven years old, I have received visions from the Goddess, instructing me to train and prepare to serve her Herald. My father, a devout man, personally saw to my training in all aspects, so that I could serve Avaria to the best of my ability. When he deemed me ready, I took my vows at the age of thirteen, and for ten years I have devoted myself entirely to her service," she spoke, pausing momentarily to let out a wistful sigh. "Aranthia, that''s really far to the west. Like, well far it is! What''s it like?" interrupted Larynda, with an eager and curious voice. "The kingdom of Aranthia is a just and peaceful kingdom, where the light of Avaria shines brightly. My father''s land borders the great grass sea of the Children of the Tides. That was perhaps why I was chosen for this mission to find her Herald. Avaria works in mysterious ways," she answered with a contented smile. Book 2: Fated Reunion [Part 2] As I was digesting her words, we were interrupted by the Guard Master Khalam, who was dragging a haggard Elwin behind him. "Gilgamesh. Good evening," Khalam addressed me tersely. He wasted no time in getting to the matter at hand. "This foreigner, Elwin of Tucker, he is your responsibility now.¡± The Guard Master sucked in air between his teeth, glancing at Elwin for a moment before he added, ¡°Here is some Zarzar leaf tea from the caravan master; it is to be taken before rest. It will help your ¡®friend¡¯ find sleep through the night. After you have finished here, Laes has asked me to tell you to come to his wagon to get your share of the recent spoils. After that, you are to report to Alik for instruction," he informed me, eyes steady and unwavering. Turning now in Cordelia''s direction, "Lady Priestess, it would be unseemly for you to be sleeping in the rough company of men. Laes has made arrangements for different accommodations for you and the girl," he stated, matter-of-factly. ¡°I think it best that we all stay together,¡± I countered, unwilling to let go of my new prize. ¡°A child is one thing, but unmarried women do not sleep with unmarried men, Gilgamesh. This is simply the way of things. I can only offer you my word that both of them will suffer no harm,¡± pronounced Khalam, head bowed and both palms pressed against the back of his head. I had seen this gesture before about the camp. It was an expression of supplication, and in the face of such, I found myself automatically nodding in agreement. ¡°Scripture has never agreed much with me, but I would like you to know that we keep to the gods here. However, in all my years, this is my first time seeing a lady Temple Knight. Whatever will come next¡­ Please, this way, milady,¡± he offered with a fixed smile. Cordelia bristled for a moment before her face settled into a disturbingly serene expression, "My thanks, Guard Master," she replied cordially, if not a little forced. "Since I am done with my evening meal, please lead on," she added, rising to her feet. "As you wish, your err¡­ holiness," Khalam responded awkwardly, caught off-guard by her sudden acceptance. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. "Come now, Larynda, let us find a place away from these rough men," she said, smiling a radiant smile at the girl and holding out her hand. Larynda looked to me and Kidu for permission, and we both nodded to her. "Go with Cordelia," Kidu and I said at the same time, echoing each other and laughing at the absurdity. A few seconds later, I began to regret my decision as I realized I had lost my Mana battery. Perhaps another investment in Mana regeneration was in the cards upon my next level-up. Trustingly, the child scampered off to Cordelia''s side with an inane grin on her face. Finished with his delivery, Khalam made as if to leave, with Cordelia and Larynda in tow, before turning back to me and throwing a long brown package my way. Surprised, and caught off guard by its weight, I almost dropped the damn thing. "Ubaid has fully recovered. But, he no longer wishes to have a place among my guard, and he wants you to have this. Truth be told, he never had the mettle for it. Weak. Weak like his mother''s people. It is an Azag-Gishban, what you people know as a sword-hammer. May it serve you better than it served him," Khalam explained in a clipped voice before taking a moment, sucking in air through his teeth, "You have done me and mine well. Thank you. Oh, and Water Mistress Ankhset wishes to see you, with the little girl mage over there; she says it''s important. I will excuse you from Alik''s ministrations this evening," he said offhandedly, before walking off, escorting the lady knight and our budding mage. Alone with the members of my original party, a silence descended upon us. A silence which was then broken by Elwin, who sputtered a "Thank you¡­ I told them everything," before starting to cry, soft, pathetic, unmanly tears, causing me to recoil. Kidu, once again, surprised me by placing a sympathetic, meaty hand on his shoulder. I believe that seeing his misery up front had quenched much of Kidu''s anger towards the Rogue. The man, for all his bluster, had a big heart. It was an awkward, if not touching, moment. But, at the very least, now I wouldn''t need to worry about Kidu stabbing Elwin in the middle of the night in the name of honor. Violent as he was, I was forced to conclude that Kidu had learned a skill that had so far eluded me: the ability to let go of a grudge. ¡°You are safe now, and all is forgiven. I hold no secrets worth a friend''s life, anyway,¡± I stated simply, wanting to extricate myself from this situation. If I really thought about it, I never held much ill will towards Elwin anyway. Elwin nodded to me and wiped his nose on the sleeve of a borrowed shirt. ¡°Gil,¡± he croaked, ¡°that woman Cordelia, be careful of her like. Those of the faith can be strange, and capable of almost anything. Sure, she thinks of you as Avaria incarnate now¡­ but, but, just be careful, alright?¡± ¡°Perhaps. Can¡¯t have you relying on Kidu and me for protection though. Let¡¯s go about and see what we can do about that. Time to see what Laes has for us,¡± I chimed with an avaricious smile on my lips, ¡°but first let¡¯s have a look at Ubaid¡¯s present. Book 2: The Spoils of War [Part 1] In the depths of the Whispering Wastes, where the sands dance and burn hot under the gaze of the sun, there lies the Straight River. It is said that after the rain falls, the river awakens from its slumber and flows with a fierce determination, carving an unbending path through the heart of the desert to the city of Al-Lazar. Along the banks of this elusive river, there lurk creatures that have long haunted the dreams of weary travelers and poorly-guarded caravans. They are monstrous three-eyed frogs, Sandgorgers, whose skin glistens with a sickly green hue, and whose croaks echo with a haunting resonance. These monstrous frogs are unlike any other in the world, for they only come to life after the rains. They emerge from their slumber in the sand, and begin their short-lived existence, their sole purpose to feed and breed before the river dries up once again. Those who travel along the banks of the river are in grave danger, for the frogs are not to be trifled with. They attack with a fierce and unrelenting savagery, their three eyes glinting with an insatiable hunger. Yet the frogs are not invincible. They have one weakness, one thing that they fear above all else: fire. The mere sight of a flame is enough to send them scurrying back into the sand, their haunting croaks replaced by the sound of their frantic retreat. Such is the way of the monstrous three-eyed frogs of the Whispering Wastes. They are a peculiar and fearsome sight, a product of a land that is harsh and unforgiving. And though their existence is fleeting, their presence is felt by all who dare to travel the Green Road. - Monsters of the Mortal Realms by K. D. Fidditch. Unwrapping the brown cloth of the package revealed a sword in a dark, utilitarian leather scabbard. Drawing the weapon from its sheath, I was struck by its ingenious construction, for the Azag-Gishban was a sight to behold. What truly set this blade apart was its crossguard. For it was not a simple piece of metal meant to protect the wielder''s hand. No, the crossguard of the Azag-Gishban was formed in the shape of a hammer, with a blunt striking edge on one side and a sharp spike on the other. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. The handle of the sword was thick and sturdy, ending in a large rounded leaden pommel. Its blade was single-edged, and measured around seventy or so centimeters in length and honed to a razor''s sharpness. Three-quarters down the length of the blade was a hole rimmed with bronze, perfectly positioned for the wielder to grip the metal on the unsharpened edge. This was the handle when the weapon was to be used as a hammer, allowing for a powerful grip and maximum impact. True to the grizzled Guard Master¡¯s word, the weapon before me could serve effectively as both a sword and a hammer. I had never seen its like before. Out of habit, rather than any real curiosity, I used Identify on my new weapon.
Steel Sword-Hammer [Azag-Gishban]
Durability 207/225
Overall, very impressive, I thought to myself, as I attached the sword to my belt. A happier memory of a time long ago, of Elwin teaching me how to tie a sword to my hip, rose to the surface. A small sigh escaped my lips, and I wondered if using the thing would improve my Hammer¡¯s skill or simply give me a new skill. Perhaps both? There was only one way to find out, but for the time being there was a distinct lack of enemies nearby, and I was not quite in the mood for a spot of cold-blooded murder. Perhaps I could ask one of my fellow guards later for some tips and instructions. ¡°Come now, Elwin and Kidu. I wish to see how Patches¡¯s doing before we see to getting you some new equipment,¡± I said and rose to my feet. We made our way to where the animals were hobbled for the evening. Lowing gently in the evening, the large Xaruar were unhitched from their wagons and tended to by their loving minders. I saw a boy of about eight cleaning between the spikes of one of the large saurians with a large brush, causing the creature to bellow in pleasure. Next to them were where the horses and other equines were kept. An old hunched and bearded man sat before a fire on a small wooden stool, his face creased with wrinkles as he looked into the depths of the flame. At his side were a few baskets of feed, along with vegetable and fruit treats for the animals of the caravan. He was Abas Yar, the Beastmaster of the caravan, and responsible for the welfare of all the animals of the train. In short, he was a man of some importance. ¡°A fine evening to you, Honored One Gilgamesh,¡± he greeted me in a voice common to those who had grown tired of life. ¡°Back has been giving me trouble again. I wonder how much a silver piece can go towards having the gods send some of their mercy my way. Heavens know I could be due some, after fifty years of prayer,¡± he said a little grouchily, leaving a silver piece on the lid of a basket. Book 2: The Spoils of War [Part 2]* To my right, I could see Kidu bristle slightly at the elderly man¡¯s almost-sacrilegious words. In contrast, Elwin smiled a ghost of a grin. Putting on my best smile, I replied to his request, ¡°I am sure the Church always welcomes the donations of the faithful.¡± It was fortunate that Cordelia was not in present company, I could almost picture her going into a religious apoplectic fit. That aside, the elderly man¡¯s problem presented an opportunity to garner some reputation with the traveling folk and to perhaps improve my somewhat stubborn Charisma attribute. Solemnly, I went up to the Beastmaster, who looked at me with expectant hope in his eyes. The talk about his back playing up had been but a cover for a more serious condition. I had previously noticed him coughing blood into a dirty handkerchief while he was seeing to the animals. Even the very old, it seemed, still wished to cling to life - even for just that little bit more. A single piece of silver seemed a little stingy to me, but it was still money. With there being no longer a need to hide my magic among the people of the Ravens, perhaps another show of my divine gifts would improve their regard of me even further? Chanting out the holy words of Heal, I called forth the power of the spell and laid my hands on the old man. Energy flowed from me and into him, carrying with it the divine blessing of the angels, alleviating some of the damage accumulated over his lifetime. He sat up more upright, his previously hunched back now straightened. The wrinkles around his eyes softened slightly, and sections of his white hair reclaimed a silvery sheen. Though not exactly the picture of youth, it was clear that he was in much better health. This was all well within what I had come to expect from the spell. Quite a decent result for five points of Mana. While a warm feeling filled me - that of doing something right and good, another part felt doubly-annoyed. It nagged at me, leading me to wonder if it would be possible to get some Mana back? Yes, yes, it would, the voices answered. ¡°You may feel a little weak, as it takes something from you,¡± I stated, with a weak smile. The old man was still looking at me, awestruck, as I used the Drain spell on him. Sweet rapturous life-energy filled me, and being in physical contact with my target, the intoxicating effects seemed to be magnified. What little color my Heal spell had gifted the man had been almost completely drained, and the lines around his face deepened, returning to their former state. The voices demanded more. However, there was no need to be greedy, I chided. I needed this man to owe me a favor and sing my praises to whoever would listen. It would do me no good if I left him as a dead husk, no matter how satisfying that would be. My Mana rose by three points, a mere one point more than the cost of the Drain spell. It was, regrettably, a net loss of four Mana. I doubted the old man had much more life to give, anyway. Just then, a whisper of a memory came to me, a remembrance that was not my own. A vision of helping a pregnant mare birth a live foal¡­ before it faded as I released him from both the spell and my touch. Drain, though promising, was only part of the answer to my personal quest. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Shaking my head, I gave out a false cough. ¡°I would recommend some rest and a good meal. Rest assured, that you have been healed from all that has ailed you,¡± I pronounced, with false compassion in my eyes. I was a little unsettled by the memory¡¯s intrusion. His next reaction was thoroughly unexpected. Almost at once, Abas groveled on the ground before me, tears of gratitude streaming from his eyes, and begging for my forgiveness for the temerity of offering only a single silver for the miracle he had received. I decided to play the part of the humble and magnanimous priest, accepting the single coin quickly. It seemed that my plan to get in the Beastmaster¡¯s good graces had worked perhaps a little too well. Not wanting to create a scene, I took a carrot from an open basket and distanced myself as quickly as possible. Looking around, I caught the welcome sight of our donkey Patches and smiled when I saw our charge Larynda brushing her down. Seeing a delicious opportunity coming her way, the greedy donkey made her way to me, much to the half-elf¡¯s consternation. ¡°There you go, girl,¡± I offered, feeding her a carrot. After demolishing the root vegetable in quick order, she greedily sniffed about my person for more treats. Larynda pouted for a moment, grumbling, ¡°Silly Patches,¡± before continuing with her care. A few moments later, Cordelia appeared from behind a nearby wagon, with a clank of armor. ¡°Ah, Cordelia, err¡­ I hope no one was untoward to you. Also, are, will your new quarters suffice?¡± I said awkwardly. ¡°Yes, my lord Gilgamesh. Laes has been most generous. Though a lot of the wagon is taken up with some chests, it is no large matter,¡± she positively beamed before smiling at Larynda and ruffling her hair, ¡°And this little one is quite a delight.¡± ¡°Oie! Gil, Gil, guess what, Gil! She even said she¡¯ll show me how to use a sword! That sounds like a right bunch of fun! Ain¡¯t she nice? Don¡¯t forget you promised to show me how to do the knife thingy, too!¡± Larynda bubbled energetically. She paused momentarily in her task, almost dropping her brush, and her eyes shone with barely-constrained delight. ¡°We are, after all, in the rough company of men. It would serve you well to learn how to defend yourself,¡± the red-haired woman commented archly, which, for an unknown reason, drew an annoyed grunt from Kidu. But then again, grunting was often Kidu¡¯s main form of communication. ¡°Well then, it seems things are well in hand over here. We have business we must attend to with Laes. Larynda, take good care of Patches, and don¡¯t trouble Cordelia overly much!¡± I directed, hoping the mischievous child would at least heed some of my words. Larynda merely saluted at me, and Cordelia bowed formally at the hip, her back ramrod straight with both hands at her sides. Seeing that Patches was in good hands, we made our way through the camp to Laes¡¯ gaudy wagon. Realizing that Elwin was being unnaturally quiet, I asked him if anything was bothering him. ¡°Gil, at the risk of sounding like a fish wife that loves to repeat herself ¡®cos she loves the sound of her own voice... That Cordelia person, as I said before - be careful of her is all I¡¯m saying. For all of that, she is a nice piece, but I would not touch it with a ten-foot pole, and advise you to just stay away. I¡¯ve seen her type before. They are the kind who are always a little too eager to be venting their religion on the ordinary folk. There is just something about her¡­ something strange,¡± warned the Rogue, his voice unnaturally serious. This drew a harrumph from Kidu, who decided to add his opinion to the matter, ¡°The Cordelia of Aserac, I judge to be honorable. She is strong in battle, uncommon in the women of your soft lands. I do not see what it is that worries you so. Perhaps it is because you warm-landers feel that women should have no place of importance?¡± Book 2: The Spoils of War [Part 3] The Rogue turned to him, his face momentarily worried before replying in an earnest voice, ¡°Kidu, mate, there¡¯s more to it. It¡¯s more than just being strong or respecting womenfolk. I¡¯ve seen women adventurers¡ªrare, I might add¡ªthat can chew rocks, and they themselves have bigger stones than most men. Something¡¯s just off about her¡­ something I can¡¯t put one of my grubby fingers on.¡± Kidu frowned at this and looked like he was about to give a reply before I decided to end their discussion on Cordelia¡¯s trustworthiness. Perhaps I could also give the Rogue some purpose at the same time, to get him out of his brooding state. The man went on like a woman sometimes, and cried like one, too. It unsettled me when a man could so readily lose control and unabashedly break down in tears in public. ¡°Elwin, if Kidu can welcome you back into our company with open arms, do you not think that Cordelia at least deserves to be treated with an open mind? She might be as dangerous as you say, or odd, but the gods have led her to me. It would be churlish to reject their gifts outright. At the very least, we can give the woman the benefit of the doubt. And if you doubt her so much, I am sure that you will keep an eye on her for me, won¡¯t you?¡± I countered with a hesitant smile. ¡°If you say so, Gil, mate,¡± Elwin answered flatly. Luckily, there was no more discussion as we soon found the caravan master in front of his wagon, inspecting some crates filled with the accouterments of war. It took me a few moments to realize that it was loot that the Ravens had gathered after our last encounter. ¡°Ah, there you are,¡± greeted the long-faced man. I was thinking that perhaps Laes would grow on me, but he was still as ugly as the day I had first met him. His eyes rose a little in surprise when he caught sight of the new sword at my hip, before he gave out a long-drawn sigh. He cast another glance at me as he leafed through the worn ledger, shaking his head in exasperation. ¡°So,¡± he continued, ¡°it is true that Ubaid no longer has a taste to hold steel. I always knew it to be true, but Khalam, in his foolishness, would have it no other way. Fathers and their expectations. Now, then, if you could look over these items here and, as agreed, you may take what you need.¡± He paused for a moment, as if considering something, before reaching into the folds of his clothes and throwing a small cloth purse at me, ¡°And this is your share of the monies collected from the recently-departed. Again, I must thank you for aid in our defense, regardless that you have been the primary cause of it,¡± he finished, with just the tiniest shade of irritation lacing his voice. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°No, caravan master, we are much obliged to you, and your generosity,¡± I replied, as courteously as I could, which resulted in a small nod of acknowledgement. We took the time then to go over the loot. For the Rogue, we chose a thick linen gambeson with boiled leather plates, along with an assortment of knives and a no-nonsense shortsword. The armor was of little interest to Kidu, but a powerful composite horseman¡¯s bow drew his eye, along with a few well-made arrows. For myself, the armor before me was a treasure trove and I selected a heavy steel plate harness that I judged to be close to my size. Ignoring the reddish stains, I opted for a linen and chainmail gambeson to complement the harness. To complete my panoply of war, I picked a new helm, fashioned in the likeness of a snarling, wolf-like creature. The visor of my new sallet was the tooth-filled maw of the beast, and it looked both intimidating and stylish. Some of the pieces, like the vambraces, sabatons, and gambeson, would need a little adjustment. However, Laes assured me that it could be done by the caravan¡¯s mobile smithy. However, I would have to wait until we stopped for the Weeping. Seeing the state of my garments, the caravan master recommended that I hand my robes over to one of the women for repairs. This, he assured me, would only cost a silver, which he could deduct from my wages if I so wished. Alongside my new armor, I chose a wooden kite shield with what looked like a monstrous horse¡¯s head design at its center. The boss and rim of the shield were made from solid iron or steel. The shield could be strapped on my forearm for ease of use, or gripped behind the center for more advanced deflection techniques. Once the necessary fittings had been made, I would be turned into a veritable walking tank, all but invincible to the majority of blows. I promised myself that I would spend as much time as possible in the accouterments of war so that my armor would feel like a second skin. ¡°I would not presume but¡­ deep in the Wastes, wearing such armor may well be¡­ cumbersome. The days are as hot as an oven and the nights equally as cold. Much like my last wife¡­ ha!¡± commented Laes, ending his weak joke, which drew nothing from me save for a weak smile. ¡°Indeed, but until such a time these will do me just fine, Master Laes,¡± I responded a little laconically. ¡°Of course, as you wish. Though I hope that the rest of the journey will be without issue, I pray that your sword arm remains strong for whatever trials lie ahead,¡± the caravan master intoned seriously. He quickly jotted something down in his ledger, his quill dancing swiftly across the parchment before ending with a flourish. ¡°I will have one of the boys deliver your things later, I hear you have Ankhset wishing to see you next. Best not to keep that old witch waiting,¡± he finished, dismissing us as he continued to inventory the remaining items. Book 2: The Call of Water* Ancient lore tells of a being beyond reckoning, a figure of myth and legend. An embodiment of humanity itself, forged in the crucible of our darkest moments to guide us into the light. A beacon of hope, he carries with him the knowledge and wisdom of our forebears, that we may chart a course to a brighter tomorrow. - On the Prophecy of the Gods, by Gideon de Salavia 376 AC. Slightly annoyed at the dismissal, but grateful for my new equipment, I cut through a gaggle of people going about their business on my way to Ankhset¡¯s wagon. I overheard snippets of conversation amidst the throng, revealing that a certain Gelgor was trailing us by only a few days. Rumor had it that one of the boys had sighted his caravan from atop one of our large wagons. From my understanding of the fragments of information, this Gelgor person was another caravan master who was also leading his group across the Whispering Wastes. Was this to be yet another threat, or perhaps an opportunity? As I thought upon this, my feet led me to the wagon of the Water Mage. This time, to my surprise, there was no one guarding the entrance. Shrugging to myself, I walked up to the wooden door and rapped my knuckles upon it. The door swung open to reveal a hunching Aizere, or perhaps it was Erasyl - the twins were nearly indistinguishable. "Please, do come in. Our mother has been expecting you," said the brother, gesturing for me to enter. Mindful of the dirt on my boots, I kicked them off by the steps and followed him inside. Elwin and Kidu followed suit, removing their footwear before they came in. As we entered, we beheld Larynda seated cross-legged at a low wooden table. Opposite her was the willowy old woman sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup, the Water Mage of the caravan. Her name, according to my Identify, was Ankhset, and she was the mother of the twins. She looked up, registering our appearance through smoke-gray eyes that were still clear and bright. From up close, and despite the ravages of time, I could discern that she must have once been comely in her youth, unlike her monstrously large offspring. The old woman nodded to me once before she gestured for my companions and me to sit. ¡°Have tea and be at ease,¡± the woman said in a matronly voice as she poured out some tea for us. We sat cross-legged at the table. The three larger members of this gathering¡¯s bulk were in stark juxtaposition to the almost jokingly small tea set displayed before us. Raising a small white cup to my lips, a perfumed hint of jasmine graced my senses for a moment, bringing with it a ghost of a memory. Another place, another life. I tasted the golden brown liquid and found the tea clean to the palette, yet having a full and rounded muscatel flavor. Our host, judging that we had passed some sort of mysterious test, deigned to grace us with an introduction, ¡°I have been told that you already have met my son and daughter, Erasyl and Aizere. Forgive them, they are a little overprotective of me in my old age. I am Ankhset Ulgen, Water Seeker of the Company of the Ravens, and I wish to thank you for your gracious actions.¡± With a conscious effort, I stopped a smug grin from crossing my face. Just as I had predicted, an event, in this case defending the caravan, had unlocked access to this new character and started this scripted piece. Instead of a sneer, I decided my most-pleasant smile would serve me better, followed of course, by the expected humble heroic tripe. Also, it was a good thing that Cordelia was not with us, as I had a feeling that if she were present things might be a little more complicated. ¡°I did nothing more than what was expected. The caravan master had hired me to protect the people of this train, and that is all that I did,¡± I replied as cordially as possible. ¡°Some say that it is you who also brings the scrutiny of the fates upon us - that Laes has been coerced by the result of his foolish honor,¡± the sister added to the conversation rudely, her annoyed expression mirrored by her twin. I was glad that Cordelia was not with us. ¡°Only those who say that honor is foolish are the ones who have no honor themselves,¡± countered Kidu, his voice a rumbling warning. Ankhset sighed at this. ¡°I did not invite Master Gilgamesh to gossip like old wives at the festival,¡± she chided her unruly spawn. Turning to me, she offered in a conciliatory tone, ¡°Peace. I invited you to offer a small gift in thanks, and a humble word of warning, if you would listen to this old woman.¡± ¡°Our boss, Gil, likes his presents. Now what he doesn¡¯t like however is surprises. There was this time¡­¡± Elwin started before he was silenced by a warning look from Kidu. Luckily, the Rogue held his tongue. ¡°You have my ear, speak on,¡± I cut in a little sharply, giving up the pretense of acting the part of the quiet and humble hero. It was never within me anyway, and I just wanted the old woman to get to the point. ¡°Very well then. Though I am no oracle, I can sense Fate¡¯s heavy hand about you and the young one¡¯s path,¡± the old Water Mage explained while looking in Larynda¡¯s direction, causing her to fidget uneasily. Why did ¡®wise¡¯ people always have to speak in such strange roundabout terms? Only a few words had been spoken, and yet this exchange was already grating on my nerves. Perhaps it was the recent stress, from just about everything, but I was already getting tired of the mystic mumbo-jumbo. I found myself fighting an urge to simply wring the information out of the old biddy. Under the table, my hands had formed into fists, but I was able to keep the irritation and strain from showing on my face. A quick glance to my left showed Elwin rolling his eyes. My thoughts exactly. ¡°They say you are chosen, beloved of the Twin Blades, and there are many here who have witnessed you work her will. You brought some measure of balance to the world. That no one can deny. But there is also something about you,¡± she paused for a moment as if considering her next words very carefully, only for Elwin to cut in. ¡°Yes, he is rather attractive,¡± the Rogue quipped. Ignoring him, and utterly unfazed, Ankhset continued seriously, ¡°Something almost ominous. I do not know the word in Trade, but young master Gilgamesh, you bear a heavy Ma''at,¡± she intoned the last with dramatic portent while fingering a large black feather at her side. ¡®Ma¡¯at.¡¯ The word was important. I knew it in the depths of my bones, and my curiosity demanded to be sated. Thus, I had only one recourse. ¡°What is this Ma¡¯at that you speak of?¡± I asked, not expecting a decent answer from the old witch. Even as I spoke, I used the magic of Identify on the word. The concept. Dao. The word lay heavy in my mind, like a fat sow, as my spell made her meaning clear to me. It meant way, or path, in the misguided Chinese philosophy of Taoism. It was an affront to my rational mind. From my limited knowledge, it was all about some spiritual nonsense involving becoming one with nature, meridians, and dantians. Was it my fate to be spiked full of thin needles in the name of enlightenment? Was that the best translation that the spell could give? Had I just wasted more of my Mana? Smile, I told myself, smile. ¡°Ma¡¯at - it means way or path. To bear the blessing of the Divine is no easy thing,¡± she ended dramatically, and, with no small effort, I was able to keep my face neutral. The one problem with going to a fantasy world was that everyone, for the most part, was backward and primitive in their thinking. I almost slapped myself in annoyance. A waste of Mana it truly had been. Get to the bloody point, I thought to myself as the old mage finally resumed her bit of exposition, ¡°And that is a burden you will have to bear. No aid can I give you. It is not my place to meddle with the Divine, but if I may offer this one small piece of wisdom. Seek balance within yourself. However, it is not you who is the object of my worry, for you are a man full-grown. Larynda, child, you have my thanks. Through your actions, you have saved many lives. But, do you know of the powers you are trying to harness?¡± she asked with a soft smile, to which the half-elf just mutely shook her head. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Now, this was just taking the biscuit. Mumbo-jumbo and a lecture that helped not one whit. It should be me who should be being praised. I controlled myself, draining my cup. At least the tea was half-pleasant. Luckily, the barbarians were not completely without manners, and the brother poured me another serving from an elegant white china teapot, his large heavy hands surprisingly dexterous and delicate. ¡°I say this not to admonish, but that is a power you must not use under any circumstance. It is a thing more ancient than the gods. And I fear that such a power is not to be used, for it is a power that also uses you, and will bring nothing but despair. It is a thing stronger than even the call of my water,¡± she went on to advise, and her voice was heavy with portent. ¡°No,¡± said Larynda in a small voice, before she repeated in a stronger voice, ¡°No.¡± The old thin woman, probably unused to being denied, looked perplexed, ¡°Why child, do you not see the dangers of such power?¡± she asked incredulously. ¡°It¡¯s like a knife. Ain¡¯t gonna give it up ¡®cos someone just told me to. That¡¯s what people with power like to do. Say smart words to make you think you''re weak, then you become weak. No, ain¡¯t happening, Lady Ankshet miss,¡± the girl said defiantly. Hah! I thought to myself. Take that dose of truth, you old hag. I expected the woman to burst into anger, but instead, she merely sighed in exasperation. ¡°Since I was just a girl of your age, before I first heard the first whisper of the Call, before it became the song that rings in my ears, I started to make this,¡± intoned the Water Mage reverently as she took out a small scroll from a chest next to the table. Almost lovingly, she spread it across the wooden surface of the table. Once fully unfurled, the designs on its vellum sprang to life with flowing, blossoming magic. Blue script ran in chaotic, shifting patterns, teasing me with their meaning. It was the very essence of water, the root meaning of the element. In front of my very eyes was an item probably worth more than the lives of the entire train. My very being greedily lusted for it. The more personal power I could claim, the greater my chances of achieving all of my goals. Deep within me, in the restless corners of my soul, my dark choir and I became of one mind. ¡°I made this for my children, long ago, if none of them heard the call of sister Water. Luckily for you, both Erasyl and Aizere show promising Control and can hear the Water¡¯s song. If you will not be dissuaded from your course, I owe it to you to at least attempt to divert you from a thorny path. And you, Gilgamesh, I thought to offer this first to you, but I fear your soul is too burdened by your own great Dao,¡± She half-whispered the last, and shook her head in regret. I, too, felt no small amount of regret at not being gifted the scroll, and was surprise when I noticed that the game had decided to automatically translate Ma¡¯at into Dao. How odd. The old mage¡¯s face creased into a kindly smile, ¡°Come child, it is time to listen with your heart. If you wish to continue down the path of magic, Water is a good pairing for you. It has greater depths to it than just providing the needs for a caravan, child. Also, though the Call of Water will not be able to stop you from following your Dao, perhaps it will help divert the attention of the First Havoc. To give you balance in the years to come,¡± pronounced the old hag, ¡°Come now, touch the Manzaza Shiptu, the words of knowledge, and know a new path that you might take.¡± Doing my best to keep my face neutral, ¡°A moment, Larynda. The wise woman speaks of Dao. I would know more of what she speaks of. And, why must Larynda not use the power that she has been gifted? I mean no insult, but why do you wish to shackle this girl¡¯s potential?¡± I inquired in as much of a neutral tone as I could. Ankhset¡¯s face grew dark and serious, ¡°I mean no such thing, Gilgamesh. The magic she unleashed, the Forest of Crystal, Naspu Surahu, is known to us. And, like the Black Flame, Nara Sakullu, we know the root of such magic. The power that came before the gods of man. So, it is recorded and spoken. Though I know that her birth parent¡¯s people are skilled in Control, it is not a thing for adults to wield, let alone a child. I am not so foolish to tell a curious child to not use the gift Mana, only that she does so with a different, less-dangerous, element, and with some measure of guidance,¡± she paused for a moment to take a deep breath, ¡°Perhaps this will help give you some understanding. Come here, child. Give me your hand,¡± she gestured kindly to Larynda, and I nodded to the small girl giving her my permission. ¡°This ain¡¯t gonna hurt, is it? Or taste like medicine?¡± mumbled the half-elven child. Ankhset merely smiled at this and took Larynda¡¯s hand in her own, her old fingers looking like withered branches from a tree. In a casual display of power, she summoned a few droplets of water that hovered in the air just above the table. Whatever this old woman was planning, I thought it better that Larynda be the recipient. Still, it would be best to at least give a token of objection. ¡°What is this now?¡± I asked in what I hoped came across as a stern and protective tone. ¡°Just a small demonstration of one of the fundamentals of existence. Fear not, I would never harm the child,¡± the old woman replied calmly. I made a show of being barely assuaged by crossing my arms. The old woman turned to Larynda and instructed, in a kind voice, ¡°Now, stay as still as you can and watch.¡± I noticed that she had Larynda¡¯s full and undivided attention. One of the droplets fell gently on the back of the child¡¯s hand, coursing down in a random pattern across her skin. Another droplet fell in the exact same spot, and like the last droplet, it plotted a random and different course. This was repeated again and again until the light of understanding dawned in Larynda¡¯s eyes. In everything there is an element of the uncontrollable, the untamable. The tiniest of changes could result in a myriad of different outcomes that rebelled against the order of the universe. Yet even within this, there was a pattern only visible to the gifted and the mad. Although the crone thought that she had schooled the girl in one of the deeper mysteries, revealing to the child the source of her magic, I had known all along. The obvious clue had been in the name of Larynda¡¯s class. Chaos Mage. Chaos. While the little girl looked suitably impressed, I, on the other hand, was merely annoyed at the cheap theatrics. Seeing the woman occupied, I surreptitiously cast an Identify on the scroll.
Scroll of Water Ball [Magic]
Durability 9/10
As I thought, a magical scroll. Like my Identify spell, one would, no doubt, be able to learn a new magical ability by touching and absorbing the knowledge and power held within the words of the scroll. Ankhset wore a satisfied expression on her face, like she had just imparted the wisdom of the gods to us. Little did she know that such ¡®wisdom¡¯ was well within the purview of the common school child in my world. Also, in my opinion, a few words would have gotten the point across just as well. All in all, it was a rather primitive and overly-reductive way of demonstrating Chaos Theory. ¡°Please, let the water guide her. I do not wish to see such beautiful potential cut so short before its time,¡± the old woman begged of me. I could not stop smiling in smug superiority, for I had known the source of Larynda¡¯s power long ago. It was time to indulge the child, and a part of me feared what taking the scroll for my own selfish desires entailed. She did mention that it would add extra strain upon my soul. Did a strain upon my soul limit me in some mystical way, or was it possibly dangerous to push myself so? Was she lying, or simply mistaken? Did this mean I would no longer be able to learn new magic spells in the same manner as my Identify? ¡°Touch the magic scroll, child,¡± I commanded, hoping that I had made the right decision. With hands trembling and hesitant, the child of half-elven blood reached out for the magic scroll. As the girl''s fingers brushed against the parchment, lines of arcane script surged with an azure crystalline light, before flowing like a swift mountain stream towards her. And with a shudder, the power of the words infused the child, filling her with mystical energy. Then, for the briefest of moments, there was the roar of the ocean, the tinkling of gentle rain, and the cacophony of the storm. Almost as if reacting to being challenged, my Entropic Aura roared to life. I tried to hold it back, but it was too late. Reaching completion, it burst from me in an invisible wave, and Ankhset and her children gasped in surprise. However, I could not tell whether this was from reacting to Larynda¡¯s absorption of the esoteric script or the effects of my own spell. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I quickly reined in the spell and silenced the fury of the voices. Despite the overwhelming power that filled her, the girl smiled serenely, with a calm that belied her youth and rambunctious nature. It was a picture of acceptance, of a prophet that had found her god. ¡°Now, truly you are a Windspeaker, little one!¡± celebrated Kidu in a voice that boomed louder than any storm. No matter how I smiled, I could not fully match the wild man''s joy. The whole event carried the bitter stench of a missed opportunity, a regret I knew I would revisit many times in the future. Book 2: A Lesson to Be Learned [Part 1] In the world of sleep, tossing and turning in the night, darkness descends upon me like a heavy weight. The visions that besiege me are those of a gathering storm, an unyielding force that churns the ocean''s depths. Terror consumes me, gripping my heart with a vice-like intensity. The labyrinth of dreams and dust offers no respite, no escape from the shadows of the future that haunt me. They pursue me relentlessly, and I cannot shake them off. Each twist and turn of the maze brings me closer to the realization that there is no way out. As I stumble to a halt, gasping for air, the shadows loom before me, threatening to engulf me in their icy grip. The fear that has gripped me so tightly threatens to overwhelm me entirely. I am but a leaf in a storm, tossed and turned by forces beyond my control. With a trembling hand, I brace myself to face what lies ahead. There is no escaping the inevitable, no avoiding the storm that is about to break upon me. For a moment the hand that grips me lightens¡ªcould the portents be a gift from the River? A fleeting glimpse of what is to come? Fear courses through my veins anew, and yet this time I embrace the shadows, ready to meet my destiny. For with the fear comes yet another emotion¡ªexcitement. An escape from my gilded prison. - From the diary of Lady Aelayah of House Salahaem. It was the first time I had seen someone, other than myself, be given a spell. There was a solemn air after Kidu''s rumbling exclamation that seemed to permeate through the room. Elwin looked thoughtful, and Kidu seemed wistful, perhaps thinking of an old memory. Larynda looked the picture of joy as the light of the magic''s acceptance slowly faded. I didn''t personally need water spells anyway, and at least this way, my companions and I wouldn''t have to worry about drinking water. We were generally in good spirits after finishing a few more cups of tea and exchanging pleasantries and information. I was a bit hesitant to give out details about myself to these strangers, so I let my companions do most of the talking. Ankhset and her spawn were Water Mages of the Children of Tides, which lowered my estimation of them considerably. With this in mind, I briefly entertained the idea of slowly killing her during our journey. A few Drain spells cast here and there could whittle away at her health, making it look like natural causes. However, I ultimately decided against it, since the train still needed her, and there was no sure way to know if she could detect the use of my magic. Throughout the exchange, I tried to gauge whether or not she had felt my Entropic Aura. The voices had told me that it would be problematic if she had. The evening finally drew to a close. Before leaving the wagon, the half-elven child was made to promise that she would visit Ankhset¡¯s wagon every other day in the evenings to study the path of water. Once we put a little distance between us and Ankhset¡¯s family, I decided to use Identify on the small girl, eager to see if the magic had wrought any changes upon her.
Larynda - Chaos Water Mage [Human/Elf lvl.9] Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Health: 73/74 Stamina: 17/26 Mana: 11/20
What in blazes? The girl has risen a whole four levels! Was that the effect of taking in a single scroll? It couldn''t be... Learning Identify didn''t give me anywhere near that level of a boost, I thought to myself. After pondering for a moment, I realized that the likely source of her newfound levels must have been from the single engagement where she slaughtered, almost wholesale, a group of men and horses. It made sense, and I was relieved to see that learning water magic had not removed the ''Chaos'' tag from her class description. Chaos magic was useful after all, and I made a mental note to talk to her about it at a later date, before the hag got her claws fully into her and dissuaded the girl from using her intrinsic powers. I also planned to tell Kidu to push her a little harder in her physical training. At least now, with the increase in her level, she wouldn''t fall over from an errant breeze. After all, it is said that a sound soul resides within a sound healthy body and mind, or something like that. As we walked Larynda back to the wagon that she shared with our newest companion, Cordelia, my mind raced. This time, the lady knight was dressed in the local fashion, wearing a light red deel with bright yellow trim that flared out from the sleeves. She sat among the women of the Ravens around a small open fire, sipping tea from a thick ceramic cup and wearing an infectious smile. Among their number was Catalina, the mother I had healed the night before, who blushed like a maiden at her first dance as we neared. Larynda rushed to greet Cordelia and excitedly told her the news in an incomprehensible babbling stream of words. "Thank you, honored one, for healing me," began Catalina demurely, looking away when our eyes met. My magic had done wonders for her, and she now looked to be the very picture of health. "Think nothing of it, dear lady," I replied courteously, offering my best smile. The women of the small group looked at each other knowingly, and I felt a little flustered. I turned my attention to Cordelia and informed her of the recent events. Once Larynda had finished venting off her exuberance, we sat down on small chairs that some old women put out for us. I decided to update Cordelia on the latest happenings, as I planned for her to take part in Larynda¡¯s training. Best she knows what it was she was dealing with. She, in turn, told me of the little things, of how she had spent her time with the people of the caravan. Unimportant things that I only gave half-an-ear to. I slipped into giving automatic responses and occasionally repeating the last thing she said, to humor her. It was one of the skills I had picked up in the old world when dealing with women, and it worked equally well here. Kidu would occasionally make a comment or ask a pointed question about the Ravens, to which Cordelia was surprisingly able to answer with ease. The answers to these questions I paid full attention to, as Kidu, uncivilized and savage as he was, could be surprisingly insightful at times. I learned that the Ravens, like the people of the North, put great stock in honor and trust. This made sense for a people who¡¯s very livelihood relied on trade. However, they took this to the extreme, in my opinion at least. For example, they placed great weight on honoring and collecting debt. So much so that a male child among the traveling people could not truly call himself independent unless he paid his family back in full, through labor or by coin, the cost of raising him. However, girls had intrinsic value, as they bore the greater inherent responsibility when propagating and carrying the next generation to term. Their bride price, or dowry, was their value when they came of age. Treating the fairer sex like so much cattle or brood mares to be bought and traded was, in my opinion, the mark of a primitive and underdeveloped culture. Could they not see that all human life had intrinsic and equal value, regardless of race, sex, and so forth? Thinking on it more, I saw that, at the very least, the beings of this world had a possible excuse for their barbaric customs. Their behavioral patterns, culture, and histories, were probably set by the ¡°system¡± of this world. Their way of life and very existence, were nothing more than the predetermined result of a collection of ones and zeros. Book 2: A Lesson to Be Learned [Part 2] However, the people of my old world, who did not ascribe to the line of thinking that all human life was equal, had no such excuse. They were all just as savage and backward as the people I had encountered in these lands. For what of the handicapped, the weak, the flawed, and the vulnerable? Do their lives hold no value? And by what right would we assign value to each individual? Once you start believing that one group of people is more valuable than another, the logical progression is the eradication of those deemed ''lesser.'' History is awash with instances of such dehumanization, the narratives written in the blood and tears of humankind. Throughout this long exchange, I could not help but notice that Elwin had slipped off somewhere. ¡°...so as you can see, I will entrust Larynda to your care. I see the girl has taken quite a liking to you,¡± I finished flatly, resisting an urge to ruffle Larynda¡¯s mop of hair as she sidled up next to me. ¡°Yay! I get to learn how to use a sword an¡¯ all!¡± the small child exuded, drawing a beatific smile from Cordelia. "It will be as you command, Your Holiness. I mean, Gil," Cordelia replied, flustered at using a less-formal tone. "Come now, Larynda, tomorrow is a long day, and it''s well past your bedtime!" she commanded, dragging the little girl by the arm into the wagon. The other women smiled at this, curtsying to me like a brood of hens before retiring to attend to their evening business. As they were about to leave, I stopped them, taking off my robe and asking if it could be mended. Catalina volunteered to handle the task herself, refusing payment and insisting that it was the least she could do. Just as I finished wishing them a good evening, Elwin appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. An insouciant grin was his only greeting as he took a place by my side. The man truly was slippery as an eel. With my business settled, we returned to our own wagon. ***** The next few days were spent at rest. Laes had decided to wait for Gelgor¡¯s caravan to catch up, deciding it would be best to travel together for mutual protection. My companions and I felt it to be a wise decision, and all were glad to have a little respite from near-constant travel. Larynda spent this time with Ankhset and her burly children, studying the ways of water during the day, and in the evenings Kidu threw her into a relentless training routine. He was a harsh and exacting teacher, giving only minimal praise and acknowledgment, but punishing repeated mistakes of footwork or position with merciless strikes that would leave the girl near tears. To her credit, she shed no tears in front of us. It also afforded me the opportunity to practice my Heal and Drain spell combination. Unlike the old Beastmaster Abas Yar, the young girl was positively brimming with delicious life force and Mana, which allowed me to get back most of my own Mana. One afternoon, the boy Dumuzi returned my mended garments, bowing low as he did so. I was alone at the time, seeing to the maintenance of my armor, and my companions were busy with various things around the camp. Looking closer at the boy''s features, I realized that I had seen him before at Catalina¡¯s side. He had been the son who had been clutching at his mother¡¯s hand. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°How is your mother, Catalina?¡± I probed as offhandedly as I could, wishing to confirm the truth of the memory. Smiling at me, the young lad replied, ¡°She is well, Honored One. I thank you for saving her.¡± He paused for a moment, his expression growing a little dark, ¡°She is my only family now.¡± "You''ll forgive me if this is a sensitive subject, but your father?" I inquired. "He crossed the Shallow River, defending my mother and me from the attack, Honored One," he shared, his voice trembling slightly from suppressed emotion. Taken aback, I responded awkwardly, "I am sorry for your loss." In the back of my mind, I wondered if his mother might appreciate some comfort later. ¡°If there is anything I can do, do not hesitate to ask,¡± I added casually. ¡°Apologies again, Honored One. This one is foolish for troubling you with his own matters. You have already given us so much. You and the child sage Larynda have already given me my vengeance¡­now there is¡­¡± He could not finish the last as he started bawling his eyes out. That was the final straw, as all of my pent-up irritation and negative emotions needed a vent. The swiftness of my hand surprised even me as my backhanded slap connected with his face, silencing his pathetic mewling and knocking him to the ground. "Cease your womanly weeping," I snarled, looking down disdainfully at his crumpled figure. He stared up at me, a mix of shock and pain warring with his anger. And fear. Fear of me. "Your father surely did not spawn such a weak child. You dishonor his memory. I shall overlook this deplorable display. Existence is rife with adversity and loss. To expose vulnerability is to beckon that which would be your downfall. Tell me, are you weak, child?" I inquired in the measured tone of a teacher. He sniffed for a moment before gaining control. "No, Honored One. Please forgive me for disappointing you," he stammered, prostrating himself on the ground, dreading further provocation of my fury. I knelt down beside the young innocent boy and laid a gloved hand on his head, causing him to reflexively wince. I cast Drain on his unresisting form and energy filled me, delicious, like sweet nectar. Take more, the voices insisted. It would be so easy. With an effort of will and great regret, I stopped the spell. I paused for a moment as a few images from the boy¡¯s life filled my mind. Days filled with taking care of the giant Ruar, the stern smile of a proud father, and the gentleness of a young mother. Forcing these memories out of my mind, I cast Heal on the boy to restore some of the damage I had inflicted. Now energy flowed from me to the boy causing the evidence of my violence to disappear from his face. I raised him to his feet and looked him firmly in the eye. Now I could see that the fear in his eyes had changed to an altogether different emotion. Something I found much more tolerable. Respect. Once he had gone, I heard a snarky comment from behind me in Elwin¡¯s voice. ¡°Well, I guess that¡¯s one form of tough love,¡± the voice said. I refused to give Elwin the satisfaction of seeing me surprised and firmly resisted the urge to turn around. ¡°Better that he learns of the true nature of the world now. This land is an unforgiving place. I would be doing the boy no favors, and a hard truth is worth a thousand soft lies¡­¡± I muttered a little irritably. ¡°Not saying what you did was bad, Gil. Perhaps, you¡¯re looking to fill in his father¡¯s shoes? Either way, he¡¯s probably got to grow up fast now. Dark Lady knows, I could have done with more of a slap when I was younger,¡± added the voice in an infuriatingly knowing tone. I turned around, taking in the Rogue, looking him firmly in the eye, noticing that they still had a hollowness to them. ¡°You know, it is never too late,¡± I smiled back darkly, and wondered if a similar method of instilling respect would work with Elwin. Book 2: An Encounter with the Crows [Part 1] In the art of warfare, victory is not simply a matter of winning a single battle; rather, it is a sustained effort that encompasses the entirety of a conflict. A battle may indeed be decided by who wins the field on a given day, but the outcome of a war is ultimately determined by a more fundamental principle: the willingness of a side to continue the fight. A wise strategist understands that there are many factors that can influence the outcome of any campaign, and even the most carefully-crafted strategy is no guarantee of overall victory. Unexpected events can turn the tide of the conflict in an instant. And yet, despite the many uncertainties of war, there is one constant that can never be overlooked: the power of determination. To succeed in war, a wise leader must cultivate this spirit of determination within his people. He must inspire them with a sense of purpose, a belief in the righteousness of their cause. He must instill in them a sense of discipline and loyalty, so that even in the face of adversity, they will not falter. In the end, it is the side that possesses this indomitable spirit that will emerge victorious. For though battles may be won or lost, war is ultimately a test of willpower. And it is the side that refuses to ever admit defeat, that refuses to give up the fight, that will ultimately prevail. - The Principles of Conflict by General Damien de Savant circa 234 AC. When I had been a slave in the mines, I had positively thrown myself into work. Now, as we waited for Gelgor''s company of the Crows to catch up to us, I did so again. I helped wherever I could, no matter the task, in my pursuit to grind up some experience and perhaps new skills. Whether this was gathering up Ruar dung for the fires, or helping to change a wheel of a wagon, no task was beneath me in my bid to reach my next level. The people of the Raven were deferential to me at all times, and with no little surprise on their faces to see what they viewed as an ¡®Honored One,¡¯ to be going about such humble tasks. One of the chores I frequently engaged in was splitting firewood, and I spent hours hacking away at wood with a borrowed axe. I made sure to Power Strike each and every time, waiting for the ¡®cooldown¡¯ of the skill to finish before launching another strike. Power Strike could still be used during the ¡®cooldown¡¯ of the skill, but activated this way it used a lot more Stamina. After what seemed like an eternity, I was given a much-welcomed notification.
You have learned Power Strike (lvl.3) You have learned Axes (lvl.2)
The caravan might be at rest; however, that did not mean that I could escape my lessons. Under Arik¡¯s instruction, I learned how to control my mount, Mouse, more with my knees and legs, and I gained a better seat in the saddle. Unlike the others, Arik¡¯s treatment of me was no different than before, and he was as gruff as always. Perhaps it was a cultural thing - a teacher holding a position of authority over a student, rather than just a mere instructor. More importantly, my diligence and perseverance rewarded me with an increase in my newest skill.
You have learned Riding (lvl.2)
Perhaps it was due to the combination of my armor pieces, my recent increase in Riding, or for some other mysterious reason that escaped me, but I also gained a skill level in Medium Armor. It all seemed so very arbitrary at times.
You have learned Medium Armor (lvl.3)
I also took the time to continue with my journal, recording some of my thoughts and experiences thus far in this new world. It was a way for me to deal with some of the as-yet-unpacked emotions I had been carrying around. I had come far in this world, and had overcome challenges that would have broken a lesser man. I felt proud of myself as I wrote. The journal also served as a reminder of promised vengeance. All would be crushed under my iron heel! Hah! A man could dream after all. Also, in a moment of vanity, and remembering Durhit, I decided to name the journal after one of his more-colorful curses. All of this and, surprisingly, writing the journal, earned me a modicum of experience. However, it was still not enough to get me to the next level, the next height of my power. One evening, feeling that the menu for my list of skills was getting a little cluttered, I decided to brave the pain to strike off the Herbalism skill. Icy daggers stabbed about inside my brain and forced me to my knees, but as it turned out, this was what it took to finally get my Pain Nullification to the next level.
You have learned Pain Nullification (lvl.3)
I remembered shaking, and hoping that no one noticed my temporary moment of weakness. I remembered taking quick, desperate lungfuls of air before stilling my breath. Distancing myself from that moment, I boxed the memory in and reviewed my Status. My path to power.
[STATUS] Calling: Gilgamesh lvl.11 Paladin/Reaver If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Strength: 27 Dexterity: 22 Constitution: 39 Intelligence: 21 Wisdom: 22 Charisma: 13 Luck: 18
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.3) Power Strike (lvl.3) 10 Endure (lvl.3) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.3) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.3) Polearms (lvl.2) Dual Wield (lvl.2) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) Improved Unarmed Combat (lvl.1) Hammers (lvl.2) Flails (lvl.3) Maces (lvl.3) Shields (lvl.3) Medium Armor (lvl.3) Heavy Armor (lvl.4) Axes (lvl.2) Daggers (lvl.4) Throwing Weapons (lvl.2) Double Throw (lvl.1) 5 Shield Bash (lvl.1) Riding (lvl.2) Dash (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) 5 Rust (lvl.3) 2 Identify (lvl.3) 1 Silent Casting (lvl.2) Mana Regeneration (lvl.2) Purify (lvl.2) 3 Greater Heal (lvl.2) 10 Holy Aura (lvl.2) 2 Decay (lvl.1) 1 Drain (lvl.4) 2 Entropic Aura (lvl.2) 2
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy -20% to all starting attributes. Mark of the Paladin 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical. Touch of the Void 10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects.
Experience to next level 3187/3202
Health: 285/288 Stamina: 62/63 Mana: 16/16
I had made no gains to my base attributes, but I was pleased with the increase in my skills. Close, I was so close to getting to level twelve. Only a mere fifteen experience points from my next power boost, and one more step down the road to my apotheosis. Whatever should I spend my bonus points on next? I wondered, as I reported in to take my turn at the watch. Book 2: An Encounter with the Crows [Part 2] Waiting for Gelgor was mostly uneventful, but finally, it was time. I was stationed behind Laes, on foot, to welcome a small party of mounted horsemen who approached the Ravens¡¯ caravan in the early hours of the morning. Leading them was a figure I recognized at once to be Gelgor. I had overheard the people of the Ravens talking about his distinctive appearance, and there was no mistaking that it had to be him. At this range, he looked like a blob of an orange that had found itself a strong enough mount to carry it. However, I saw that he carried himself well on his horse, despite his prodigious size. As the small band drew closer, I could see that Gelgor¡¯s escort consisted of professional soldiers. Their gear was uniform, and their eyes were watchful and serious. Each had a long lance cupped at their right stirrup, and at their waists was their choice sidearm. They were all equipped with iron nasal helms and well-crafted iron lamellar trimmed in bronze. About their armor they wore an orange sash that designated their allegiance. Gelgor himself was armed with nothing more than a smile. I could not help but be reminded of a similar scene from not too long ago. Yet, unlike that encounter, where tension filled the air, the stillness that comes before violent acts, this time felt different. Rather, I felt it to be more forced and routine. More akin to a regular family meeting¡ªtolerated, but not eagerly anticipated. On the surface, it certainly did not have the feel of another hostile encounter. Hopefully, this meeting would not end in bloodshed. Despite that being the best outcome, I still entertained the stray thought that it could be a welcome chance to gain a few more points of experience. Prepared for it, even. Patience, I chided myself. ¡°Hello there, Laes of the Ravens,¡± greeted Gelgor the portly caravan master, a fixed smile on his lips and only the barest of edge to his voice. I could not help but notice that his jowls bounced in time to his mount''s gait before he finally came to a stop. At this distance, I could see that his face resembled an ugly and overly-friendly pug. From the pockmarks on his face, it seemed that, once upon a time, Gelgor had a bad case of acne. Good looks, it seemed, were not one of the prerequisites for the position of caravan master. ¡°Gelgor Badawi,¡± Laes returned, with only the barest inclination of his head, his voice formal and controlled. Gelgor smiled at this. ¡°We meet under an auspicious sun, indeed. Most auspicious. I hope this day finds you well, Master Laes. I presume you wish for us to travel together once again? You always were one to skimp on adequate protection.¡± ¡°As always, Gelgor, you have the way of it. The path has been most dangerous of late, and I fear that there are many perils left on the road,¡± offered Laes. Laes¡¯ counterpart sniffed at this. ¡°Of course, the way would be safer. For you, of course. The banquet on display for the scavengers of the plains¡ªthat was your doing, I presume?¡± Gelgor asked archly, more of a statement than a real question. To his credit, Laes did not even bat an eyelid. ¡°Not of my choosing,¡± he replied flatly. ¡°Of course, that is the way of things. Better that the scavengers feast on their honorless corpses, than yours and mine. The rules of the long road. I have something that might be of interest to you. News reached me just before my departure. News of an escaped slave, brought back to life through dread ritual and magic. And, sightings of the first folk, the Warders of the Woods. Elves of a different cut of cloth. You would not perchance know anything of this?¡± probed Gelgor as he looked with great interest at one of his nails. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. My hand began to stray slowly to the hilt of my weapon. I had faced worse odds than this before. However, peace would reign for a while longer as Laes answered him quickly. ¡°Elves, as you know, are uncommon, but not exactly rare. You speak of them as if they are legends and myths that walk the lands again. We both are too old for this. You yourself, have traveled with the long-lived ones before, as have I. They are just people, though much longer-lived. Heavens, Gelgor, your grandfather¡¯s head scribe was one of the dark-skinned ones. Also, we both know that those who would do business with the free city of Al-Lazar do not travel with, nor trade in, slaves. There is no one in my company that bears the brand. I would have you kindly cease such spurious talk¡ªit could get my writ of trade revoked,¡± Laes answered a little heatedly. ¡°As you say, as you say. But, Laes, I would have you know that these were no common elves. The local guards of Ansan were spouting nonsense that two of their number were able to fight off half the city, set fire to the other half, and escape into the night. What their business was in the city is still a mystery. Mixed in with all this mess, this little snippet caught my attention - a rather renowned slave concubine of a prominent Vessel family has escaped. A precious family treasure, for she has been in their possession for many generations, and yet she is still as comely and youthful as any spring maiden. Of elven stock, with hair like fine spun gold, eyes of jade, and skin of pure ivory. Worth more than a king¡¯s ransom, or so they say. This would not have anything to do with your sudden departure from the city?¡± ¡°Master Laes, was just¡­¡± Khalam began to interject before he was immediately cut off by Laes with a look. ¡°I see that even such a man as yourself can fall prey to the lure of idle gossip,¡± Laes answered, his expression ever so slightly strained. ¡°You come to me with less than news, less than rumor. The gossip of bored women. Perhaps, it is because I simply wished to arrive ahead of the Weeping - earlier than is usual. Still, no matter, as your good friend, I offer you, Gelgor Badawi, the guest right of the Ravens. I will indulge your penchant for idle rumors over tea. Perhaps we might be able to talk of matters that are more profitable.¡± ¡°Very well, Laes. I see that, as always, you lack even the smallest shred of romance. What you dismiss as idle gossip and fancy is the spice that keeps our lives interesting. It would not kill you, Laes, to live a little. I really don¡¯t see what my sister saw in you,¡± sighed the obese man. ¡°Nonetheless, I shall surrender myself to your honor and hospitality,¡± stated Gelgor, with a knowing glint in his eye. He dismounted, handing the reins over to one of the drudges. Eyes down, the worker accepted them, bowed respectfully, and led the mount away. Soon after, the rotund man barked a command to one of his men in High Quassian, a language with which I had only limited familiarity. The man was of medium height, dark-bearded, and had an orange turban wrapped around his helm. The man nodded once to Gelgor, acknowledging the order before galloping off back in the direction of the Crows. The rest of Gelgor¡¯s honor guard also dismounted and passed their mounts to Abas Yar and his assistants, who led them off to be fed and watered. They soon began mingling with the rest of the Ravens in friendly conversation. Backs were patted, and stories were exchanged, and from what I could gather from the snippets of conversation, Gelgor¡¯s guards had many of their friends and extended family among the Ravens. After about half an hour, Khalam touched me on the shoulder and drew me aside. ¡°I don¡¯t know who you are, and I don¡¯t care. But now, you are a healer, a prodigy from one of the temples, and the red one is your lady wife. The pair of you are seeking lost relics of your goddess, and thus have joined the Adventurer¡¯s Guild,¡± he whispered in a quiet voice. ¡°Laes feared that this journey would be more dangerous than usual, and chose to hire some adventurers to supplement his usual escort. The tight bastard that he is, he only hired those of the bronze rank. You can remember this?¡± he hissed. ¡°I think so¡­¡± I replied, uncertainly. ¡°You had best be sure, for Gelgor, despite his outwardly friendly manner, is a snake. He would sell his own mother for a few coins, if she was still alive. Now, I am not saying not to talk to the people of the Crow, but I would ask that you not get overly-friendly with them. Best you keep that in mind. Now, repeat to me your story,¡± the Guard Master insisted. Once I could repeat the story to his satisfaction, he made me promise to tell my comrades of this latest twist. I would do as Khalam advised, but the lies did not sit well with me. Book 2: Breakthrough [Part 1] It is said that our forebears once hunted the sky lords, the dragons of yore. There was a being, of whom the old tales refer to simply as the ¡®Hero,¡¯ who taught us of the dragon lore. According to the stories, it was he who taught us how to kill them. But the price of making a great winged one fall was great, for with every dragon slain, countless human lives were lost. - In Search of the Dragons, by Captain Fiorella Haldane. I was struck with no small amount of astonishment to find that the Crows and Ravens had melded seamlessly together. A remarkable unity of purpose prevailed among them, and duties were shared with an admirable sense of fairness. The pragmatic and hardworking nature of these caravan people left little room for complaint or argument. However, with a larger group now, the pace of the journey inevitably slowed down. Nevertheless, Laes steadfastly reassured me that we remained on schedule. Our next destination, the Rump, was a collection of hills that promised refuge from the merciless deluge of the Weeping. There we would wait out the rains before we would brave the treacherous expanse of the Whispering Wastes along the Green Road. And so we continued on our journey. I devoted much of my free time to honing my magical and martial skills. Observing Kidu and Larynda''s training, and occasionally joining in, I gleaned further knowledge on foot spear techniques, which resulted in an improvement of my Polearms skill. The boy Dumuzi, Catalina¡¯s get, would also sometimes come and observe. Kidu, if he was feeling particularly spiteful, would sometimes pit him against Larynda. I almost felt sorry for her at times, as the boy was quick and strong and would come in fresh. Cordelia taught me the rudiments of swordsmanship, and though the Azag-Gishban differed from her magical longsword, the fundamental principles of wielding a long, sharp metal blade remained the same. Drilling me incessantly, she instilled in me the significance of proper footwork for sword and shield combat. This, I slowly began to understand, formed the foundation of nearly all martial skill disciplines. It felt like learning the first steps of a dance, in a way at least. Though not yet an expert, I felt I had gained greater insight into the complexities of combat and more importantly a new skill, Swords. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Practicing with my new weapon, I grew to appreciate the utility of the Sword-hammer. Though not magical, it was still well-crafted, and provided me with an answer for both armored and unarmored opponents. I would still, however, need to acquire better ranged weapons than my throwing daggers. Apart from their limited range, equipping my new plate gauntlets would make them inordinately difficult to use. Cordelia was pleasant on the eyes, and in the breaks, she would sit close to me. I would ask her about her life before she joined the Church and the Knightly Order of the Penitent Heart. If you could filter out her ramblings about her faith, she was actually rather pleasant to talk to. She spoke of her father¡¯s land in Aranthia, and how she played with her doting brothers as a child. Her family had always known that the touch of Avaria lay heavily upon her, and encouraged her in all things having to do with faith and spirituality. When I sought out further details as to why I was being sought by the church, she deflected, instead telling me that she had always known that her highest calling was to serve me, the Herald of Avaria. No matter how hard I persisted, it was simply too difficult to wring out the details of the machinations of the Church. I concluded that she was either disinterested or simply ignorant of the organization¡¯s inner workings. Instead, she spoke of how, in recent years, she had grown to doubt herself, to doubt her faith, only to have it renewed when she witnessed my holy light. I was finally able to press the question, searching for the root of the matter. The Kingdom of Aranthia held their holiest of rites, under the command of Cardinal Mauros, in an attempt to bring forth the Herald of Avaria into the world. The Herald was believed to be the harbinger of a new age of prosperity and peace for those who held the faith, or would come as a righteous judge to purge the world of evil. From Cordelia''s lips, I discovered that many in the Church viewed Cardinal Mauros as being too consumed with worldly and mundane affairs, neglecting many of his more-spiritual duties. This led Cordelia to suspect that the Cardinal had undertaken the summoning ritual for less than righteous reasons, resulting in the Herald being sent to a far-off land as punishment for his spiritual worldliness. In the woman¡¯s eyes, I was divinity incarnate, and she was willing to do anything for me. With that in mind, I extracted a solemn vow from her to keep my true identity a secret, convincing her that it was Avaria''s will that I should experience the world as a mortal man, to understand their struggles and pass Her judgment accordingly. My ploy worked flawlessly, and the zealous Cordelia was now mine to command as I truly wished. Not wanting to get caught up in the power struggles or the machinations of the church, I decided it best that I avoid Aranthia and other members of the Church for the time being. Book 2: Breakthrough [Part 2] From Ankhset, I learned a little more about the nature of magic. Certain people, and in some rare cases creatures, would have an affinity for certain elements. Unlike people, creatures with the gift of magic never suffered from the Call, the suicidal impulse that grew stronger as a magic user grew in power. Among the wise, it was said that this was because animals and monsters were closer to the elements, closer to their natural state. As a Water Mage, her element was a constant source of danger, as she struggled to control the insidious Call of her magic. Over a cup of tea, while Larynda was busy juggling floating balls of water, the old woman explained to me that the mages of this world would often use magic staves or wands. These were either crafted by the mages themselves, or could be bought from purveyors of magical goods. As I understood, from her somewhat scattered explanation, the opening segment of a mage''s spell repertoire would be inscribed onto these implements, thus serving as shortcuts for a magic user''s incantations. From her description, the whole process seemed similar to what Larynda did with her Seals. My fellow guards were respectful of me, and the bonds and camaraderie of shared battle and the campfire were not so easily changed by my new status as a sort of holy man. It is hard to view the man who has played a few hands of cards with you as an embodiment of divine will. Timur, who I had fought alongside, was very much in my camp, and would often be shouting my praises in a drunken voice. They all still tried to get me to drink their poisonous brew, the fiery drink Arag, but as always, I refused. Elwin, on the other hand, was more than willing to drown out his sorrows, imbibing copious amounts of the acrid swill and singing at the top of his voice before passing out, unconscious. I suspected that this must have been how he dealt with his problems. Although he never talked about his time in the hands of his captors, in his unguarded moments, his eyes were a map of suffering. Luckily, the guards still invited me to their games of cards, dice, and chance, for which I was grateful. My focus lay not in winning, but in honing my Luck attribute. This meant that I usually lost more money than I won, much to the delight of my fellows, as I sought to win against increasingly long odds. At least at dice. With cards, thanks to my Identify spell, I was able to recoup some of my losses. One evening, after a successful Hail Mary throw of the dice, I was able to gain a point in Luck, as well as break even. This, it turned out, was also enough to finally get me over the threshold to level twelve. With so much time to think things over, I already had a general plan in mind on where I would put the bonus points. With the counter ticking down, I placed two attribute points in Dexterity to help offset the penalty of wearing plate gauntlets, and a single point in Constitution to make it a nice, rounded forty points. For my bonus point, it was a toss-up between Mana Regeneration and the Drain spell. I went with Drain, eager to see how the spell would evolve, which pleased the voices within. My recent level-up gave me the courage to see if I could edit my user interface again. This time, instead of hiding a skill, I tried to fiddle with my experience display to get it to show only the experience required for the next level, and not my total experience. Just before I willed the changes to come about, I drank a few gulps of Arag to help combat the pain I knew was coming, much to the cheers of my fellow gamblers. Luckily, they thought that my screams were ones of celebration, rather than of agonizing pain. I must say that I truly deserved a Charisma point for my quick thinking and splendid performance. The universe, however, was not so kind.
[STATUS] Calling: Gilgamesh lvl.12 Paladin/Reaver
Strength: 27 Dexterity: 24 Constitution: 40 Intelligence: 21 Wisdom: 22 Charisma: 13 Luck: 19
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Pain Nullification (lvl.3) Power Strike (lvl.3) 10 Endure (lvl.3) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.3) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.3) Polearms (lvl.3) Dual Wield (lvl.2) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) Improved Unarmed Combat (lvl.1) Hammers (lvl.2) Flails (lvl.3) Maces (lvl.3) Shields (lvl.3) Medium Armor (lvl.3) Heavy Armor (lvl.4) Axes (lvl.2) Daggers (lvl.4) Throwing Weapons (lvl.2) Double Throw (lvl.1) 5 Shield Bash (lvl.1) Riding (lvl.2) Dash (lvl.1) Swords (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) 5 Rust (lvl.3) 2 Identify (lvl.3) 1 Silent Casting (lvl.2) Mana Regeneration (lvl.2) Purify (lvl.2) 3 Greater Heal (lvl.2) 10 Holy Aura (lvl.2) 2 Decay (lvl.1) 1 Drain (lvl.5) 2 Entropic Aura (lvl.2) 2
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy -20% to all starting attributes. Mark of the Paladin 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical. Touch of the Void 10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects.
Experience to next level 7/891
Health: 316/321 Stamina: 47/65 Mana: 16/16
Confirming the changes, I found myself happy with the significant increase to my Health and Stamina pool. My Health had truly grown to be monstrous. Just a few more levels, and I would grow to be as tough as even the large Ruars that pulled the wagons. Generally pleased with my overall growth, I joined my fellows for a few more rounds at rolling the bones. Book 2: The Long Road [Part 1]* Some would have you believe that the gods and their games do not exist. Some believe that they are dead, or that they are both alive and dead. Others would posit that the divines have been dying for thousands of years, their blood seeping into the ground, into the water, into the air. The very air we breathe, the water we drink, and the ground we tread may all contain traces of this divine essence. And so, the gods continue to exert their influence upon us, whether we believe in them or not. That is the origin of the gift-spark, the curse of Mana. - On the Prophecy of the Gods, by Gideon de Salavia 376 AC. For the rest of the journey up to the Rump, not wanting to upset the balance and status quo, I heeded Khalam¡¯s counsel and, for the most part, steered clear of the Crows whenever feasible. Nonetheless, there were instances where I could not completely avoid them, such as when participating in a joint patrol around the encampment at night, or scouting on horseback. Despite this, I tried to maintain a low profile, neither impolite nor forthcoming with my details. However, there was one event that raised a few eyebrows among the people of the caravans. One evening, tired and unable to deal with the rasping saw that was Kidu¡¯s breathing, I went outside for a bit of fresh air and to enjoy the sight of unfamiliar stars painted across an unfamiliar sky. I walked a little way from the ring of the wagons, to meditate and reflect. Away from the caravan, for practice, I released my Entropic Aura as I looked up at the celestials on high, wondering if Earth¡¯s sun was among their number. Thus, I remained until sleep found me. Dawn¡¯s touch, her rosy fingers staining the morning sky, was what awoke me the next day. I quickly rose to my feet, for all around me was a circle of wilted grass and dusty dead earth. Among the dry grey stalks, I glimpsed a small reflection of death. A warning, the voices said in whispered unison. It would come as stealthy as sleep. Dark understanding hit me, and I stopped my Entropic Aura and retreated back into my wagon on shaky legs. A quick check of Status revealed that my spell had increased in level during the night while I slept. It had been careless of me to leave the spell activated. Stolen novel; please report. As the days passed, the Rump could be seen, growing larger in the distance. A few more uneventful days and we found ourselves at the top of those hills. Once they had found a suitable place to stop, Laes and Gelgor began to organize their people for the coming rains. Stakes were hammered down, wagons secured, and a great tent of oiled and waxed tarp was erected for the animals. Repairs were made, and I had to treat a few injuries. Dumuzi was among those who had suffered, for a Ruar had stepped on his foot. However, by the Grace of the Goddess, as the Ravens and the Crows had come to call it, my Heal spell fixed his broken bones and bruised flesh, saving him from a future of being lame. A tearful Catalina tried to give me some of what little money she had, but I refused it with a smile, touched her shoulder, and told her that instead I would be delighted if she could cook for me a meal someday. I was sure that, if I played my cards right, I could get something more. I welcomed all of the requests for healing, as they allowed me to practice my magic and earn a few coins. Not to mention, that the generous use of my spells elevated my standing with the people of both caravans. The Crows and Ravens were ready now, ready to wait out the coming rains. Steadily, the days grew darker as more clouds, carried by a northerly wind, floated in. In the far distance was a black sky of darker clouds, pregnant with rain. At the edge of that dark horizon was a stark line of bone white, the beginning of the Whispering Wastes. That same day, under Laes'' direction, a sturdy man in his thirties approached me. Because of his long dirty blonde hair, which was really more of a light brown on closer inspection, I recognized him from our evening meals, but this was the first time I had made his acquaintance. His name was Garven, and he explained that he was the armorer and smith for the Ravens, and that he would be making the adjustments for my looted suit of plate harness. Taking out a measure, he quickly and efficiently took down my sizes on a wax tablet, while humming to himself. I thanked him for his time, and he made off to do whatever it was he had to do. As he strode away, I noticed that the man walked with a slight limp. Sometimes in the evening, when the fancy took me, I would tell stories from my old world. From the classics like the Odyssey and the Aeneid, to recent pieces of fiction that were popular with the masses. A further adapted version of the story of the ¡°Boy Who lived¡± was particularly popular with the children. I had changed it into a story of revenge, of a boy¡¯s drive to find vengeance for his family at all costs, which went down well with my listeners. At first, my audience was just my companions. Next, intrigued, Dumuzi would come to listen. Then later, Catalina would join, and in turn, so too would her friends. They would bring small gifts or food, offerings and payments of a sort for the tales of my old world. Book 2: The Long Road [Part 2] Once the preparations were complete, there was a sort of semi-festive atmosphere to the train that accompanied this period of waiting, giving the people time to relax and unwind. Meals were a touch more extravagant, faces a little less tight from stress, and the laughter of the workers freer and less guarded. Free from the rigors of the road, music echoed delightfully, as simple wind and string instruments filled the air with jubilant melodies. With these infectious tunes came dancing. Even the stoic Kidu, at Larynda¡¯s insistence, took to the floor and proved surprisingly graceful and light on his feet. Many of the women, blushing with amusement, eagerly danced with him. However, most surprising of all was Elwin, who after a few drinks, invited Cordelia to dance. His movements were stiff, and his language formal, but the lady knight received and accepted his request like a queen at court. I was glad, for slowly it seemed that the Rogue was regaining some of his dauntless nerve and joie de vivre. I had thought that he was intimidated by the woman. What was he planning exactly? It was only through confronting our fears that we could overcome them, I realized. In a world full of miracles and magic, I wondered why I found this simple truth surprising. Cordelia represented something he feared, and the Rogue was trying to overcome his fear with familiarity. He was a braver man than I, for even as an object of Cordelia¡¯s faith and veneration, her single-mindedness and zeal scared me at times. None of the songs or music was familiar to me, but I still found myself lost in looking on at their happiness, distant and apart. It was Catalina who saved me from my solitude, offering her hand and forcing me to rise to my feet. She taught me how to dance their dance, and my heart was filled with a new joy. As the music faded into silence, she took my arm and whispered in my ear, beckoning me to follow her to her wagon. For a fleeting moment, upon entering, I thought I felt the earth quiver momentarily, but I quickly brushed it aside as just a symptom of my burgeoning excitement. Locking the door, she told me that her son was being cared for by close friends. That night she thanked me in more ways than one, as we both sought solace and release in each other¡¯s arms. ***** The next afternoon, the boy Dumuzi found me to give me my adjusted suit of armor. It took him about three trips to complete the delivery of my plate harness. As it was my first time equipping a full set of plate mail, I had no idea how to put the thing on. Smiling beatifically, Cordelia volunteered to show me how to put on various pieces. I could see why a squire would have been useful for the medieval knight. It was awkward to put on a full set of armor by myself, but with a little fiddling around with the leather straps, quite possible. The trick was remembering the correct order, and leaving some parts semi-attached, and some knots at half-done to facilitate the whole process. She had Larynda watch, explaining to the girl as if the child was her squire, the differences between her armor and mine. I found being dressed by two girls a tad embarrassing. Walking around in my steel plate gave me a certain feeling of invulnerability. Yes, it was a little cumbersome to move about in, but not quite as much as I had imagined it would be. My range of movement was more limited, but this was a fair price to pay for the extra protection that the armor provided. Also, truth be told, I felt rather dashing in the thing. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Feeling rather motivated by my new equipment, I practiced running in my suit of steel after the evening meal. My companions thought I was insane. God-touched, they said. And God-touched I am, but not quite in the way that you mean, I thought to myself. They expected me to soon tire, but they would be proven wrong. After my tenth lap around the big camp, weapon and shield in hand, I was barely out of breath. Admittedly, I was not wearing my helm, which allowed me to shed a bit more heat and draw in a bit more air, but I believed it was impressive nonetheless. This was the benefit of putting the majority of my bonus points into my Constitution attribute. My Health and Stamina had basically grown through the roof. I kept running, occasionally taking a swig from the water flask at my side. Still, I ran on, and this continued until people stopped their business for the evening to watch the loon who was running laps around the camp in full armor.
You have learned Endure (lvl.4)
Drenched in sweat, I smiled as I took in the notice, savoring my success. I guess I finally had an answer for what the Endure skill did. It helped me endure. So I kept on running, picking up my pace as some of the children joined me, thinking it was some sort of event. Ten minutes later, as I jumped over a waist-high barrel for sport, much to the delight of the children in my wake, I was given yet another notice.
You have gained 1 Constitution. You have learned Heavy Armor (lvl.5)
Oh well. There went the nice round number of forty for my Constitution - not that I was really complaining. It was perhaps a good time to stop, anyway. My Stamina was around twenty percent and I could do with a quick break. As fate would have it, a few minutes later I was pulled aside by Khalam. "Best save a little for later, lad. You''re on the middle watch," Khalam half-ordered in a gruff voice, with a little more respect in his eyes. "I''ve heard stories of the legions of the Old Empire running for miles all day in full gear, and your little performance gives some truth to those tales. But it''s best if you don''t draw more attention to yourself." Without any words to refute him, I had no choice but to comply and save my energy for later. I took a place next to the fire where my companions and friends sat. Larynda looked at me in rapt awe, Kidu looked proud, Cordelia murmured a prayer, and even Elwin gave me a respectful nod free of his usual cynicism. As the evening continued, stories and tales were exchanged. Kidu¡¯s tales of the icy North were, as always, as grim as the land they came from, and very short. For the most part they were usually about this somebody killing this somebody over some sort of perceived slight. There was little drama and excitement that could fit into a ¡®story¡¯ only a few sentences long, and no amount of prompting could get him to expand upon them or give more detail. Cordelia¡¯s stories were a little more in line with a bible recitation of the old testament. She went on about how Avaria judged so and so, and how so and so got his or her just desserts. Despite her questionable material, her delivery was near-perfect as she could truly draw you in. It was more than simple recitation. Her belief and faith in her words were hypnotic and infectious, the mark of a great proselytizer. Elwin¡¯s tales consisted mainly of well-known ribald stories, sometimes mixed in with accounts of his own life. ¡°And could not wait to taste the sweetness of her creamy plate,¡± was one of his more-memorable moments from his recitation of the ¡®Milkmaid and the Lord¡¯. This caused Cordelia to stiffen and blush, and cover Larynda¡¯s ears with her hands. Dumuzi asked his mother what exactly the line meant, causing her to stutter, but Elwin promised to tell him when he was a bit older. For the first time in a long while, I felt content. Book 2: Downtime [Part 1] Let not hatred and anger rule you, but rather strategic thought and decisive action. In war, the root cause may not be mere animosity, but rather a clash of interests or ideology. For the most part, wars are nothing more than a means of negotiation between nation-states. As a student of war, I seek to understand the objectives of both sides and to find the most effective way to achieve them. I do not allow myself to be swayed by emotions, for they can cloud judgment and hinder the ability to see the situation clearly. The true art of war lies not in the destruction of one''s enemy, but in the ability to achieve one''s objectives with minimal loss of life and resources. To do so, one must be mindful, adaptable, and always seeking to improve one''s strategy and tactics. For wars are won only when those objectives have been met, or lost when the cost of human lives or resources outweighs any and all possible gains. In the end, I find it truly ironic that the only way to ensure swift peace is to fight a swifter war. - The Principles of Conflict by General Damien de Savant circa 234 AC. My build was coming along nicely. I had a large amount of Health and Stamina, which meant that I could weather most of the blows that found their way through my formidable armor. Between my high strength and Power Strike, I had a way of dealing with tougher opponents. All of this was supplemented by my magic, which was primarily support and curse-style spells that I could use in a limited fashion. Talking with Ankhset, and reading through my primer, I just knew in my bones that my gifted ¡®element¡¯ was about more than simply rusting iron and rotting things. It represented something much deeper. Something more, if only I could get my head around the abstract concepts involved. The Drain spell, I felt, was a prime example of this. When I touched Abas Yar, the Beastmaster, I had taken something more than just his basic vitality. Learning more about magic gave me only more mysteries to unravel. Perhaps if I increased the level of my spells, I would gain more instinctual understanding of the whole thing? The problem I still had with my build was one of range. I had some throwing daggers, but these were not really battlefield weapons, and they lacked the range and power afforded by a weapon like a bow. I was half-engaged in a conversation about the Crows at breakfast as I was thinking about these things. Today¡¯s morning meal consisted of small, thick pancakes served with salted fat and hot pepper. It would help power me through most of the morning. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°¡­uncle Gelgor. He¡¯s really quite nice, he is,¡± commented Larynda between bites. ¡°You should not speak with your mouth full, it is unbecoming of a lady,¡± chided Cordelia, as she delicately picked at her food. ¡°What do you mean ¡®uncle¡¯?¡± I almost spluttered, genuinely surprised. ¡°Ol¡¯ Ham, I mean Hamsa, used to send me off to get some stuff from Gelgor. You know, like ingredients and stuff and the like. He used to give me a few snacks every now and again. He sells almost anything, that Gelgor person. Nice person, too.¡± Larynda added between mouthfuls. That the brat had deigned it unimportant to mention this little fact put me on edge. It changed nothing, however, as long as the fat man did not try to get in the way of my quest. Even if he did, it would be a simple matter of killing anyone that stood in my way. Still, I thought it best that Larynda avoid the Crows as much as possible, and told her as much. The part about selling almost anything certainly got my attention. Perhaps there would be a way to send some feelers out, not directly of course, to see if he had something I wanted. I needed to keep a low profile for a bit, after running around the camp like a loon. I was able to convince everyone that it was a form of training, which it certainly was. Most of the people had been surprised at first, but the greater number had been downright impressed with my display of physical endurance. That aside, I still needed something, and I made my way to Laes¡¯ tally wagon to possibly get him to find what I was looking for. A ranged weapon, preferably a crossbow. As usual, I found him shouting out orders and writing down numbers on a board. Efficient was one of the words that truly described our Laes. Noticing me, he gestured for me to come over. ¡°Master Gilgamesh, to what do I owe the surprise?¡± he said, looking up for a moment. Not wanting to take too much of his time, I quickly told him that I was looking to purchase a crossbow or similar weapon. He asked a few questions to get a more-detailed picture of what I was looking for. Rubbing his chin, he told me that he might have a piece lying about somewhere himself, but that Gelgor was actually something of a weapons collector. The sum total of my wealth was around four gold pieces, which I was told was more than enough to get a fine weapon. I specifically mentioned that I needed something that would be easy to use. I had no choice but to use Laes as an intermediary. He was my only real contact, seemed a dependable and steady sort, and most importantly had treated me fairly, thus far. The caravan master promised to talk to his counterpart about getting me something at around three gold pieces or less. Gelgor was apparently more fond of gold than of his own collection. Why was Laes being so accommodating? I connected the dots. The man wanted to stay in my good graces. It was a minor thing, this small favor that I would owe him in return, but these things had a tendency to grow much larger. With our business concluded, I went back to my section of the encampment. Book 2: Downtime [Part 2]* The next day, the rains came on the wings of a cold wind. The darkness of the sky found us, blotting out the light of the midday sun. Then there was a torrent, a veritable deluge of water that fell from the skies. The rain beat relentlessly, with a continuous roar, against the giant oiled canvases that covered the camp. Ankhset was called, and she and her family sat cross-legged on a mat in the center of the camp. Hand-in-hand, they began to chant a beguiling tune, and behind the notes of their song I heard the sounds of a faraway ocean. Weather warding, Laes explained to me. The family¡¯s spell acted as a way to repel most of the water away from the camp and had to be recast every day to maintain its power. It was at times like this that Ankhset felt her call most strongly, commented the caravan master. The deluge continued incessantly, and I could understand why Laes had chosen the hills to weather out the storm. Without the ward we would have been completely at the mercy of the storm, or so I was told. Life continued under the canvas, albeit muted, and the festive air had long gone, drowned out by the heavy sound of the relentless rain. I spent some of the time with Catalina, both of us finding mutual comfort and shelter from the storm in each other¡¯s arms. Even in the sorrow of the gods, happiness could be found. One evening, she looked at me in the gloom and half-whispered to me with a smile, ¡°Who are you, Gil?¡± Looking at the ceiling, I smiled. ¡°Here, I am Gilgamesh of Uruk.¡± Her brow furrowed at my reply. ¡°Here? Here implies a there, and I have never heard of a place called Uruk.¡± ¡°It is a place where men travel many miles in the belly of long snakes, and metal birds fly in the sky,¡± I chuckled to myself. ¡°You mock me? Or is this another one of your stories? Your words have more weight than you think, you should not play with others so,¡± she chided prettily and punched me playfully. ¡°If I were to tell you, you would not believe it. The wonders of my wor¡­ land,¡± I replied wistfully, drawing her closer to me to silence her. She resisted, trying to push me away with a giggle, but soon yielded, and our lips met. For the moment, I was content. The grand quest for an eternity forgotten and replaced with the needs of the now. Though the voices within protested, I soon lost myself in her yielding softness. ***** Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Once I was done, I started to chew some minty leaves to wash out the taste of her. The plant was called Payana Leaf, a common plant that the people here used as a form of dental hygiene. The payana plant had some minor medicinal properties, and I found that, when ingested directly, restored a single Health point. More importantly, the herb stopped our mouths from smelling like a gutter. I would have much rather preferred some toothpaste and a good soft-bristled brush, but when in Rome¡­ I spat out the leaves into a bucket and looked down at her sleeping form. It almost made me believe that she was more than just another character in a game. Knowing that she was recently widowed, and needed the money, I left a few coins with her to help her out a bit. There might be a greater reward later if I kept building my reputation with her. For now, the physical rewards were certainly worthwhile. The other guards had joked around the fire about how they sometimes took whores as they did boys. I wondered if my Charisma was high enough to persuade her to perform such an act. It might be putting the cart before the horse, but eternity would be a lonely road to walk alone. If she refused me... well, out there were surely better, more suitable characters than a widow with baggage. ***** After one of the evening meals, Laes, and Khalam, of all people, came to find me. Khalam was carrying a small wooden case. I almost licked my lips in anticipation. Laes looked at me with a smile and instructed the Guard Master to open the case. ¡°I hope this meets your satisfaction.¡± Khalam opened the case, revealing the weapon I had purchased with my hard-earned gold. It was a marvel of engineering, masterfully crafted from metal, horn, and wood. Taking it out of the case, he showed me the iron sights along the rail that would allow even an inexperienced user to line up shots more easily. The Guard Master instructed me in his no-nonsense manner on the weapon¡¯s use. The crossbow was also toolless, requiring no separate gaffe lever or windlass, and the limbs could be spanned and drawn taught by pulling a long lever along the bottom. The limbs were a composite of horn and wood, and were clamped in place. If necessary, this part of the weapon could be replaced and removed. It was, in essence, a small, but powerful self-cocking crossbow. Cradling my weapon like it was a newborn child, I was more than happy to hand over the three gold pieces. ¡°This was very much worth the money, and more. Thank you Laes,¡± I replied, in genuine thanks. Khalam paused to study me. "That seems more like a noble''s hunting tool than a genuine weapon of war," he observed. "It''s practically a toy. A sturdy bow would be more beneficial to you." He straightened up, adding, "And remember, you''re on duty in the next turn of the glass. It might be wise not to bring that with you. An unfamiliar weapon can often benefit the enemy more than oneself." ¡°As you say, Khalam. I will take those words to heart,¡± I answered him formally, doing my best to keep the frustration at being treated like a child out of my voice. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Khalam, sir. We¡¯ll be keeping an eye on him to make sure he¡¯s on time¡ªdon¡¯t you worry!¡± Elwin decided to add, patting me on the shoulder and drawing an annoyed grunt from the older man. Khalam gave me another pointed look before Laes bowed and took his leave, dragging his Guard Master with him. ¡°That one¡¯s got the sense of humor of a brick,¡± quipped Elwin, and I found myself thoroughly in agreement. Book 2: Straight Shooter* In the time of yore, Tatankhum''s realm entombed their regal departed alongside their devoted retinue and trusted aides who yearned to pursue them into the hereafter. The reward for such devotion was the excision of their servants'' flesh from their revered bones. These bones were then coated in steel and subsequently treated with tin to safeguard them against the ages for their long vigil. - The Fanciful Travels of Beron de Laney 376 AC. Guard duty during the Weeping was very much a dull affair. There were Zajasite stones placed around the perimeter. These shards of azure, which bathed the encampment in their blue light, were sentinels in the night. Small flaps had been opened in the canvas to allow the sentries to look out at the rain, falling in almost solid sheets against the ground. Despite the deluge, there was little wind and I noticed that the canvas seemed to be deflecting the rain, as if the water could not find purchase against its surface. This must have been Ankhset¡¯s water ward. Apart from the interesting reaction between the rain and the ward, there was really not much to see at all for the first few nights. However, things started to grow interesting as, one night, I saw some lights in the near-distance. Other camps of traveling folk and caravans, Laes explained to me, once I brought it up with him after my shift. The Rump was, according to him, a stopping point where people would wait out the rains before crossing into the wastes. Slowly, the number of lights grew along the tops of the hills with each passing night. However, none of us were brave enough to go out into the torrent of rain to make contact with these new people. The way I saw it, there was also little point. So heavy was the rain that I was pretty sure I would drown if I were to walk outside the protection of Ankhset¡¯s ward. ***** I needed to make better use of my time here stuck on the Rump. One morning, with Dumuzi¡¯s help, I bought some sheets of wood, layering them atop each other to fashion a rough target for practice. I practiced breaking down the crossbow, and in doing so, I got a basic understanding of its mechanisms. Simple, by modern standards, of course, but in this one I had no doubt that this weapon was one of the more-advanced specimens. The crossbow also came with a small quiver filled with wooden bolts tipped with solid steel. For the sake of completion, I used Identify on the crossbow.
Ironwood Quas Crossbow
Durability 190/190
It certainly had a fine-sounding name and looked like it would be fun to use. However, at such a high price I was beginning to wonder if the new weapon would actually be effective in my hands. With how quickly I could learn new skills in the world, there was always the option of picking up a simple bow and getting Kidu to train me in its use. Practicing reloading and shooting the crossbow at the target for the next two hours until I could hit more than miss, gave me, as expected, a new notification.
You have learned Crossbows (lvl.1)
Breathing a sigh of relief, I let go of the last vestiges of my buyer¡¯s remorse. I truly felt that it had been money well spent. A bit later, Elwin also decided to loose a few bolts for fun, and I was mildly annoyed when I saw that he was a much better shot than me. Even Cordelia had a go with my new weapon, and she shot almost as well as the Rogue. The only one who was worse than me was Larynda, and she had to get Cordelia to crank the lever for her, as she was too weak to do so herself. Kidu himself did not want a turn at shooting, explaining that his archery and bow were far superior to any warm-lander¡¯s toy. In my opinion, it was indeed a toy, but a deadly one. Swallowing my pride, I got Elwin to give me a few pointers. He told me to relax more and not to pull so strongly on the trigger. According to him, the release of the bolt should come as a ¡®surprise,¡¯ or whatever that meant. Under his guidance, I was able to increase my skill level again.
You have learned Crossbows (lvl.2)
The Rogue assured me that all I needed to do now was practice. And I did, with an almost single-minded purpose that surprised even myself. Guard duty and meals became a distraction. My time with Catalina was a necessary relief, like going to the bathroom, as the warmth I had initially felt was now growing distant. When my fingers chafed, I cast Heal on them, and with the passing of the hours, my motions became like a machine. I practiced shooting through the sights and shooting from the hip, my hands and eyes slowly learning the feel of the weapon. Crank the lever, load, aim, shoot. My grouping improved, but I felt I was missing something. After a quick lunch, I started to shoot and reload with my gauntlets on, and the movements were no longer as fluid as they once were. At first, I was slow. Slow, far too slow, and clumsy, fumbling to reload the weapon in good time. However, I kept at it, seeking to master this skill. In time I got better, but I was nowhere near what I would consider a good speed. However, fortune would smile at me a day-and-a-half or so later.
You have gained 1 Dexterity. You have learned Crossbows (lvl.3)
This was enough, I thought to myself. Any more of it and I would run the risk of going insane. This was my limit. I broke down my weapon and put it in its case, much to the relief of most of my companions. ¡°Why were you so intent on your practice? And why did you stop?¡± inquired Cordelia, looking at me, as if searching for a deeper answer. I decided that a quote from an ancient warrior would fit the bill perfectly, ¡°Do not collect weapons or practice with weapons beyond what is useful,¡± I answered, trying to sound wise. The beautiful woman pursed her lips in thought, a mortal gesture that reminded me that she was not . ¡°You believe then, that further practice would be of little use?¡± she inquired. ¡°No, I am sure it would. But there should be balance in all things. If I focused solely on target practice, my skill with the sword would suffer,¡± I countered with a smile. ¡°I see, you speak the holy truth, Gilgamesh. I have been remiss and lack with my duties. Come now, it¡¯s best that I show you more of how to use that sword at your hip,¡± she replied seriously, a dangerous and fanatical gleam in her eyes. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Behind her, I could see Elwin silently mouthing a ¡°Better you than me.¡± Truth be told, however, I did not mind a single bit. ***** And so the days passed in quick succession, and I allowed myself to relax more, adopting a more balanced approach to my training. Now, with some more time on my hands, I commissioned some simple bolts, fashioned completely from iron, from the caravan¡¯s smith. He gave me a funny look, but a few bronze pieces later and he was more than willing to do it. Life under the canvas had started to drive me a little stir-crazy, so I took solace with my companions a lot more. Patches¡¯ presence was especially welcome. The simple creature was always glad to see me, and I found the uncomplicated love of an animal most comforting. As if in jealous spite of my simple happiness and growing complacency, a dark dream came¡ªdarker than the usual torment I had grown accustomed to. I found myself trapped in suffocating darkness, stripped of all sensation. No sound, no touch, nothing. It was a different kind of horror, one that felt endless, as though I could spent centuries in its stifling grip. Every fiber of my being knew this was what Death was in this world. As in mine, Death was an absolute nothingness. A revelation. The truth behind the nightmare cracked like a whip across my soul, jolting me awake. I gasped for air, my teeth chattering like wild castanets. For long, agonizing minutes, I was near paralyzed, hugging myself as the tremors slowly subsided. Thankfully, I had surfaced from the nightmare in the early hours of the morning, sparing me from showing my companions my weakness. With renewed, if somewhat forced, vigor, I began asking around the caravan for tidbits of knowledge on Alchemics and potential ways to conquer Death. At first, it felt futile, for most of what I gathered were merely fanciful stories¡ªtales of eating mystical fruits and parts of legendary creatures, or finding a well that granted wishes. Or accomplishing great deeds to earn the favor of the gods. It was on this last point that I decided to ask Cordelia for the truth of it one late afternoon. ¡°Mostly true, my lord,¡± she replied demurely, the very picture of a maiden of virtue. ¡°But the Goddess grants her Grace not so that we may avoid death, but so that we may serve faithfully beyond our allotted span.¡± ¡°And how does one become worthy of such a gift? Is it forever?¡± I asked, trying to mask the need and urgency in my voice. Cordelia''s face grew solemn, taking on regal and terrifying expression. ¡°You must face Her judgment and not be found wanting. Yours must be a life free of sin, lived in service to others. A soul, pure and good,¡± she explained slowly, her words heavy with the weight of gospel. ¡°Those under Her guidance are forged anew, made instruments of Her righteous will. That is the covenant the most holy Avaria makes with her chosen. And you, as Her Herald, are the most worthy of us all.¡± An involuntary shiver ran through me at her words, but she mistook my reaction as reverence, watching me intently. Still, despite the hauntingly familiar words, I felt a spark of hope within blossom. Perhaps, I had already been gifted with what I sought. ¡°And the Grace of the Goddess¡ªhow long does it last? Can one who is blessed with Her light fall from grace?¡± I asked, a trace of desperation creeping into my tone. ¡°Those chosen remain as long as they are needed in this world before the Goddess calls them back to her bosom,¡± the Temple Knight replied, her face a solemn mask, though a crack appeared. ¡°Though the Goddess is perfect, her servants are not. Gilles de Forunrae, wielder of the Twice-Forged, was one such fallen,¡± she finished sadly. Inwardly, I smirked at the paradox. A fresh wave of bitterness surged through me. How could a perfect being make imperfect choices? And, of course, anything given by the Divines always came with strings¡ªstrings that cut deep and bled you dry. You were only kept around for as long as you were useful. A stay of execution in exchange for servitude and a different sort of oblivion was a poor bargain. ***** Though it drew a few frowns from Cordelia, I took up one of my old pastimes, gambling. I explained to her that it was less about the money, and really more about whiling away the time. Gambling was simply a means to an end to ¡®train¡¯ my Luck attribute. That¡¯s what I was telling myself, anyway. In truth, I believe I fell into it as a way to forget recent revelations. The evening story sessions continued, eliciting numerous smiles and creating a sense of anticipation among the caravan''s inhabitants. As I entertained them, I couldn''t help but think to myself, "I should start charging for this." As my audience expanded, so did my confidence, and I began incorporating narrative techniques to capture their attention. Occasionally, I would also impart some scientific knowledge when the locals asked me simple questions about the world, such as "Why is the sky blue?" posed by Dumuzi. In response, I explained about the Rayleigh scattering effect. However, as I delved further into the subject of air molecules, which in turn meant that I had to explain what molecules actually were, I sensed that I had completely lost him at this point. On the other hand, Larynda appeared deep in thought, pondering the explanation. With this particular evening¡¯s story now completely forgotten about, Larynda asked me another insightful question. ¡°So like. What is a molecule then, Gil?¡± her tongue hesitant and unsure, as she stumbled over the alien word. ¡°Ah, a molecule is the smallest amount of a substance that can exist, while having the properties of that same substance. They themselves are composed of even smaller things that determine their properties, but that is a discussion for another day. They are all everywhere, making up nearly everything around us,¡± I smiled proudly. Science did not have the answer for everything, but what answers it had were good ones. ¡°Then what is Mana?¡± she followed up, her face a picture of concentration. I could have answered with a simple quote from the primer, but I felt that would be doing her a disservice. ¡°That, I do not truly know,¡± I stated simply, uncaring for any potential loss of face, for science did not have all the answers. What answers it did have were, however, good ones, and I took pride in being able to admit a lack of knowledge. For a child, she seemed to take all of this well, and I explained that I was not, in fact, hiding any divine revelation or esoteric knowledge from her. Cordelia seemed to be absorbing everything that I uttered, like a sponge, muttering to herself at times, as if she was trying to inscribe my words to memory. At times, I felt like a preacher spreading the gospel to the unwashed masses. My words bore fruit, and thanks to this little exchange, I earned another point towards my least-important attribute, Charisma.
You have gained 1 Charisma.
As if science was just another aspect of religious dogma, the woman knight took off into another tale of Avaria and her judgment of the city called Dezones, in the land of somewhere-I-forgot. Despite her skillful rhetoric, my mind wandered off to engage with different thoughts. I realized that there was a spark of resentment in me, a spark that I needed to snuff out. The woman had only spoken the truth of Avaria, reaffirming beliefs I had held for a long time. Shaking my head, I pushed becoming a better person to the side for the moment. I needed to think on something else. At least my Charisma was a nice and even number now. I still had no idea how the attribute worked in the slightest. Was it like a compelling effect that forced other characters to be friendlier towards me? Could high Charisma be used on me, forcing me down a path I would not have taken otherwise? It opened up the consideration of what exactly ¡®free will¡¯ meant in this world, but without any evidence or empirical data, my thoughts could only run around in circles, never stopping at a satisfying conclusion. There was really nothing for it, so I shelved my musings on the Charisma attribute. I needed to improve what I could, and I had a new idea on how I could improve my most recently-acquired skill. ***** The following day, I was able to commission some padded blunt bolts from one of the craftsmen, in exchange for the medallion that I had looted off Amon Vanes. Then I got Dumuzi to wear some of the old pieces of my armor and to carry the thick wooden target board. I told him that I needed a moving target and that I would be shooting at him with blunted bolts. The boy was understandably reluctant at first, but the promise of payment made him amenable to my demands. Hitting a moving target at running speed was considerably more difficult than a stationary target. Nonetheless, with some practice, I learned to lead the target, compensating for the speed of both the bolt and Dumuzi. This continued until the boy could run no longer, and I paid him a whole bronze piece for his troubles. As expected, he had not been hurt and had found the whole thing to be like a game. This had been especially true when I had encouraged him to try dodging the incoming bolts. The young lad took it as a challenge, and did his best to run in zigzag patterns to throw off my aim. Worried, his mother came the next day. I could see that she was biting her lip for a long while, but even she could see that it was relatively easy work for decent money. She was a little cold that evening, but eventually, she gave in to my forceful demands, and I was able to find some release. As I left her place, I assured her that Dumuzi would not be hurt. After all, even if he did get hurt, all I needed to do was use Heal. No harm, no foul. Book 2: Hard Mode Smooth and powerful are the winds of change brought by the words of prophecy. They cut through mountains like a river and are inexorable as the tides. - On the Prophecy of the Gods, by Gideon de Salavia 376 AC. The rain, as always, continued to beat down against the camp in a never-ending torrent. The inside of the great ¡®tent¡¯, where we waited out the rains, was filled mostly with the blue light of the crystal Zajasite, and open fires were being limited to only essential cooking activities. The whole situation began to remind me of my time in the mines. If I was to ascend to the next level of skill, I needed to shake things up. Though smashing someone in the face had a certain cathartic appeal, a part of me much preferred having the option to kill someone from afar. Currently, as things stood, I could hit a stationary target nine times out of ten at fifty paces and a moving target at about half that. Having learned to lead a target, the rest was simply a guessing game when it came to aiming, much like playing a game of rock-paper-scissors. Only in this game, a bolt to the body was the price of losing. However, Dumuzi, rather trusting of my skills at healing and the padding that he wore, made a game of it with me. If he could run between posts that we had set up without being hit, three times in a row, I would give him a whole copper piece. This incentivized the boy to be creative. As if not getting hit by a blunt bolt was not incentive enough. He dodged, jumped, rolled, stopped, and started. All in an effort to earn just a bit more coin. There was one way to make this significantly harder, but it seemed almost silly to me. Still, it was worth a try, I thought to myself. At least this way, the boy would be able to bring some more money back to his mother. Wrapping a strip of cloth around my eyes, I started to fire blindly at the boy. I really tried to concentrate, trying to guess his position by the noise that he made running across the grass, and thus timing my shots. Miraculously, I was able to get one glancing hit to his shoulder, but once we had finished for the day, I ended up giving him more money than I had intended, more than the brat deserved. I needed to try something new, so the next day found me doing a variety of things. I tried switching hands, attempted to feel the boy¡¯s position by some non-existent sixth sense, and heaven forbid, I even tried praying, to see if that worked. As expected, none of these things were effective. Dumuzi was smiling smugly, for he knew that today he would be bringing back even more coin. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Irritation had begun to show on my face, and it was, in fact, this negative emotion that ended up inspiring my next breakthrough. Who was this little rascal who thought himself better than me, I wondered, which prompted me to use Identify on him before donning my blindfold again.
Dumuzi Kalkassin - Errand Boy (Human lvl.7)
Health: 81/81 Stamina: 21/37 Mana: 6/6
For some reason, this new information made me even more determined to hit him and wipe the smug smile from his face. I was surprised to see that the numbers that represented his Status moved across my ¡®user interface¡¯ - and where the numbers of his Status were, the boy most certainly was. That was it! Because I was blindfolded, the boy was not bothering to dodge or zig-zag, he was merely making a beeline towards his goal. Calmly, I pressed the trigger, loosing a blunted bolt that hit my target and caused him to yelp, more in surprise than in pain. The boy was now only one health point down, and I had many more bolts left in my quiver. I imagined him pausing in shock and looking in my direction, wondering if it was just luck or the divine that had guided the last bolt. Plenty more where those came from, I sniggered to myself, as I took in my new notifications.
You have learned Blind-Fighting (lvl.1) You have learned Crossbows (lvl.4)
That was more like it. The powers-that-be deigned to recognize my efforts. Progress, at last. Perhaps, this day I could hit the boy eighty more times for some more experience to contribute towards my next level up? No, I thought better of it, that would reduce the reputation and relationship points with Catalina, which could make things more difficult from here on out. Best play it safe. On the other hand, hurting him would allow me to practice my Heal spell. An evil grin spread across my face. I was determined to make the boy work for his dinner. Book 2: The Truth Within the Lies [Part 1] It is alright to occasionally stumble and fall. It is not alright to think that it is alright to stumble and fall. - Gilgamesh of Uruk. Despite hitting Dumuzi a little less than half the time, I got no further gains in my skills. Feeling generous, I used Heal on the boy, perking him up, and passed him a few extra coins, which he accepted with a bow and an inane grin. I had to resist the urge to pat him on the head like a dog. After the evening meal, I saw our Rogue trying to juggle some knives, to Larynda¡¯s amusement, only to see him miss a catch and hurt himself. That did not seem like the Elwin that I knew, and it was this that prompted me to take him aside for a serious talk. Had the Rogue lost his edge? Also, Cordelia had told me the Church¡¯s side of things, but I wanted to hear it from a different point of view, even if it meant opening up barely-healed wounds. ¡°What¡¯s with the serious air about you, Gil?¡± Elwin started, noticing my look and running a hand through his hair. Hair that had mysteriously thickened, slightly. ¡°You¡¯ve been through a lot Elwin, just wanted to let you know that if you need to talk about anything, I am here¡­¡± I offered gently. In my mind, I was already calculating how I could extract some necessary information from him. ¡°That¡¯s nice, Gil. Really is. I¡­ the things they did. Like I said, I¡¯m sorry I told ¡®em. But they didn¡¯t get it easy,¡± he replied, looking away. I saw that his hands were shaking. Luckily, the man had given me the opening I needed. Though I trusted Cordelia, more sources of information were always better. Especially when it involved having a bunch of religious fanatics in search of me. ¡°I know Elwin, I know. We¡¯ve been through so much together. I¡¯m just glad that you¡¯re safe and in one piece again,¡± I said with a bitter smile, which he returned with a wry grin. ¡°But, I need to know what they were asking about, and why they want me?¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°They¡­¡± the Rogue gulped, his eyes growing far and distant for a moment, before he found himself again, ¡°They wanted¡­ wanted to know where you were going. That¡¯s it. That¡¯s all I know. Maybe, something about a big guy wanting you. That¡¯s all I heard on the way over. I was all beat up, Gil. They only brought me along because I know your face. They were looking for someone with the ¡®Divine Light,¡¯ or whatever that¡¯s supposed to mean. Way I see it, it¡¯s got something to do with the odd miracle or two you¡¯ve been doing right?¡± ¡°It might indeed,¡± I said worriedly, ¡°According to Cordelia I am the Herald of Avaria, or something to that effect.¡± ¡°Well, this is just my own reckoning, mind. I¡¯m thinking that maybe you being the Herald, may make you something of a power within their Church. An¡¯ what I know about people and power is that people don¡¯t like to be sharing their power with just anyone. This Mauros fellow¡ªa Cardinal by the way¡ªthey were talking about him. He really wants you. A dangerous man, that one. The way I see it, to them you¡¯re basically the next best thing to Avaria herself. Guess I got myself a friend in a high place now,¡± commented the Rogue in a low voice. I took a steady breath and added my own thoughts, ¡°This is certainly something to think about, Elwin. I know all too well the machinations of men and their lust for power. Though I can¡¯t say for certain if I am truly this Herald. Never felt there was anything special about me, if I am being completely honest with myself. I am just a man, like you. Can¡¯t say I¡¯m the particularly religious sort, either. I tell you this for a fact, before I ever came here, I had never heard of Avaria.¡± Elwin narrowed his eyes, and I realized I might have said too much, ¡°What do you mean came here, Gil? I know you¡¯re strange in the head, but just where exactly are you from? You don¡¯t have to answer if you don¡¯t want¡­¡± ¡°Perhaps it is better that way. Just know that it is a place, far, far away from here, my friend. And even if I did tell you, I doubt you would believe me,¡± I countered. ¡°Ah damn, Gil. I think this is a bit something of my fault too,¡± he said, kicking at some yellowing grass. ¡°I ain¡¯t been completely honest with you, either. It¡¯s not that I¡¯ve lied to you. No. Just haven¡¯t told you and Kidu the whole truth. I ¡­ ¡°You don¡¯t have to, Elwin. It¡¯s oka¡­ alright,¡± I interjected, not wanting any more character exposition from him. He would have none of it though. Book 2: The Truth Within the Lies [Part 2] My interjection notwithstanding, his eyes shifted for a moment and he continued, ¡°When I said about my family. It¡¯s kind of a special family. Let¡¯s just say I work¡­ well, worked for a group that some might call ¡®unsavory.¡¯ Since you¡¯re a foreigner, I doubt you¡¯d know anything about a group called the Bulls of Heaven. I fell in with that lot when I was younger, then got to have my own crew after a while. One of the younger up-and-comers was a bit hungrier than I expected¡­ there was a struggle, and I lost,¡± he sighed mightily, lost in a recollection ¡°So that story from before¡­?¡± I interjected pointedly. ¡°Completely true, well almost. That¡¯s how I actually fell in with ¡®em. Remember ¡®bout how I covered for the boy who had started poaching? Got accused of being a corrupt servant. Was not having it, so I escaped from my sentence, I did. On the run and all, I got offered work and protection in a big city by one of the gangs, the Bulls of Heaven. Found that the work suited me. Stalking a man through the streets ain''t too different from tracking an animal in the forest,¡± he paused for a moment, then, lost in thought, he grew suddenly quiet. With nothing to add, I let him fill the silence between us with the rest of his tale. ¡°Then one day, I just wanted to, you know, check up on a few things. So, I went back home, only to find the wife already shacking up with the neighbor. Went off in a bloody rage. Don¡¯t really know why, it wasn¡¯t like we were, how shall I say, intimate with each other, for a long time anyways. Whatever made me fly off the handle, I wonder?¡± he continued, almost looking wistful. ¡°And then?¡± I prodded, wanting to hear the rest and to stop him from going off on a tangent. ¡°Don¡¯t really remember too much of what happened, but they found me sitting in my chair the next day and shortly after finding me, they found the two dead in our marital bed. This time there was no escape. Would have hanged me, too, if the alderman didn¡¯t see that it was a quick way to make even more money on the side, you see,¡± he finished flatly. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°Well, are you wanting to go back to your family?¡± I inquired, eager to now know his reasons. ¡°As I said, it¡¯s true Gil. Got a son, I do. Least, I hope I still do. Was thinking of getting my old crew back. There will be a bit of grumbling, but that is nothing a bit of violence couldn¡¯t fix anyhow. Was at the top before, could be again. They wouldn¡¯t be expecting me. I thought I could make my own fortune again, send a little bit back to my son, secretly. See if he was alright, maybe check to see if I got any grandchildren. Old man things,¡± he paused for a moment and stood a little straighter, ¡°I say this with no small amount of pride, but for wetwork, in all of Aranthia, I was perhaps once one of the sharpest blades. I have killed more men than most have had hot dinners. That¡¯s why I understand you, Gil¡­ That¡¯s why you scare me a ¡®lil,¡± he explained, looking at me through narrowed eyes. I feigned innocence. ¡°I saw you looking at me, Gil. You probably think I¡¯ve lost my touch, but I am almost as sharp today as the first time I met you. Some trials break a man, but maybe because of those miracles that you keep pulling out of your arse, I feel more spry than I have in many seasons. In my heyday, they simply called me ¡®Luck,¡¯ for it was only their own misfortune that they could blame if I set my sights on them. Nothing more than bad luck. The streets knew of me, and I was feared by both common whore and noble lord. And let¡¯s just say that I got more than enough reasons to be sticking around with you now. Be not afeared, Gil boy. I got your back,¡± he smiled, with a little of his former spirit returned, before drawing me close with a conspiratory whisper. ¡°Again, let me warn you of the redhead. That sword she wields has a different name on the streets. They called it the Blind Executioner, for it cares not who it cleaves, no matter if they are innocent or guilty. Too many bad tales are told about the bearer of that blade. Not saying that such a tool ain¡¯t useful. Just make sure it cuts the right way. Her lot be like, ¡®better that ten innocents perish than a single guilty man roams free¡¯. A double-edged sword, in all senses of the word. Like magic. That¡¯s why I got you that damn book. I know I don¡¯t have a fancy education, but you learn things, and even I know that all magic stuff has a price. I hope you don¡¯t mind paying yours,¡± he finished rather ominously. ¡°It¡¯s a price I have no regret in paying. Magic, it saved us, didn¡¯t it?¡± I replied wryly, trying to change the mood. ¡°Yes, it did, Gil. And I won¡¯t be forgetting. You trust me on that. Now, I got to be off to see a little knife-eared missus. I bet she¡¯ll be wanting a few pointers on how to take down the big man,¡± he said with a grin, though his voice was solemn. ¡°Be well, Elwin,¡± I said softly as he walked away. The Rogue, not looking back, merely raised a hand in reply as he left. Book 2: Invaders [Part 1] In the realm of the known, where men and monsters clash and a multitude of races struggle for their place in the sun, the human soul endures as a rare and enigmatic jewel. A singular force that, amidst the cacophony of life and strife, continues to defy the boundaries of reason and convention, seeking solace and strength in the tenderest of origins. For it is said that the eternal disposition of the human psyche, that elusive force that governs the heart and mind, is born of a singular truth - that we, above all other creatures, linger longest in the embrace of our maternal guardian. In our infancy, we are fragile, unprepared to navigate the treacherous labyrinth that is existence. This vulnerability forms the bedrock of the human spirit. - The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC. There was a chittering, and it was not from the dark creatures of the void, those beings that haunted me in my sleep. There were intruders in my sanctuary, my place of rest. Shouting in surprise, I reached for the dagger at my waist and prepared to do battle with the intruders. Eyes now adjusting to the general gloom, I still could not see my enemies, save for small movements at the corner of my eyes. Damnations, I need to see, I thought to myself. Reaching for the bag at my waist, I grabbed a chunk of glowing Zajasite from its depths. Holding it in one hand in front of me, the stone immediately illuminated the interior of the wagon with its soft azure light. Furry fluffballs were running amok in my wagon! Kidu and Elwin had already found their feet, and had begun stamping on what I could see were cute rodents. Yet, despite the pair¡¯s wild struggles against these invaders, the animals evaded them, for the most part, and were getting everywhere, as more of their number came in. ¡°Stop!¡± I cried, and the pair looked at me, ¡°No need to panic over such mighty foes.¡± I was disgusted with my earlier reaction. The great Gilgamesh reacting like a maiden before her first blood was truly an embarrassment. These foul creatures would pay for their temerity. I reached into my pack for a piece of jerky, before kneeling down and offering it to one of the balls of fluff. The animal knew no fear and, with great gall, sniffed it once before trying to take off with it. For its hubris, it would be punished as my other hand shot out and grasped it around its neck. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. It squealed in surprise, and the other creatures echoed its cry of desperation. I brought it up closer to my eye, inspecting the absolutely adorable animal, and used a spell that served me well.
Whispermews - (Rodent lvl.1)
Health: 6/6 Stamina: 12/12 Mana: 1/1
My Identify spell revealed to me that it was a weak little thing, barely worth killing. The tiny rascal beast had truly adorable beady eyes and soft fur. It looked like a cross between a ground squirrel and a lemming. Looking at my companions, I asked them in an irritated voice, ¡°What in heavens is a Whispermews?¡± ¡°Ah, these things. I thought they were rats. Hate those things. These cute little ones are Whispermews, they live under the grass here. Harmless. The rain probably flushed them all out of their burrows and they are here looking for shelter on the high ground. They are worth quite a bit; some of the noble lady folk like their fur for the insides of their clothes. Smooth, it is,¡± explained Elwin. Suddenly, Kidu gave out a roar and smashed his hand against the side of the wagon, causing our temporary home to shake. ¡°Harmless, you say, Elwin of Tucker. This one bit me!¡± growled the wildman, pointing at a crushed thing that once was a Whispermews. Just as I was considering letting the cute creature in my hand go, Kidu¡¯s shout caused it to relieve itself and I could feel liquid running down between the seams of my gauntlet. I ended its life without a second thought, crushing it in my armored gauntlet and I unleashed a jubilant Entropic Aura to help deal with its cousins. If they were not worth the experience, at the very least they might be worth a few coins. The other Whispermews were suicidally bold, and the death of two of their number whipped up the remainder of the animals into an ineffectual frenzy. They ignored the dark aura of my spell and threw themselves at us. Stab, stab went the Rogue¡¯s knives as they thunked against wood after piercing through furred flesh, and his blades punched out a rhythm of a crazed metronome. Kidu needed no such weapons, and his ham-size hands made bloody work of the adorable rodents. Book 2: Invaders [Part 2] Though the creatures were ignoring my spell, my magic certainly was not ignoring them. They were slowed by the dark magic and their movements sluggish, a testament to what it was to go against the ravages of time. I added my own knife and armored fist to the savagery. An anger and irritation that had been building up within me found its vent. Satisfying crunches and sharp squeals filled my ears, as I smashed or sliced the rodents apart with vicious abandon. We were probably doing nature¡¯s work by removing them from the gene pool, I reflected. As the few creatures that remained finally scurried away with frantic squeals, I reined in my aura spell, forcing it back by the dint of my will and my growing mastery. During this encounter, for I dared not call it a fight, I learned some things. Several times during the fight I received notifications that I received zero experience for a kill. However, after slaying a few of the creatures, my experience had risen by a whole point, which led me to the conclusion that my interface simply did not display fractions or decimals of numbers of the experience I was actually earning. Another was that my Entropic Aura could kill, albeit very slowly. My memory, greatly improved by my Intelligence attribute, allowed me to recollect that one of the creatures had simply expired under the effects of the spell. The animal¡¯s movements had begun to get slower and slower, as if it was trying to run through thick treacle before it gave up on life. The rodent toppled over and simply died, giving me a fraction of an experience point. The spell too, sensing that I wished no harm on the Whispermew corpses, did not cause their bodies to rot or spoil. A bonus, for if Elwin¡¯s words were true, then these things could be turned into a pretty penny. We began to tidy ourselves up before I found a survivor. This one was smarter than its cousins, having chosen to cower in the corner. Perhaps, I could be merciful. I reached forward and channeled a Heal, wasting precious Mana and filling the creature with my holy light which restored some of the damage caused by my Entropic Aura. For some reason, it simply felt like the right thing to do. ¡°Perhaps the little half-elf would like a pet. It will help to teach her responsibility, the caring of another life. These things do make for good pets, yes?¡± I asked, and my companions simply nodded dumbly. At times, I truly surprised myself with my magnanimity. My piece said, I left my companions to do the annoying work of skinning the creatures and tidying up the insides of the wagon. Truly, I needed a breath of relatively fresh air, and a moment to myself. Nose curling, I decided my hands and gauntlets could probably do with a wash, too. ***** Later, that same day, we were able to sell the little pelts to some of the women of the camp. But unlike our expectations, we were only able to get half a silver for our troubles. The damn things truly were a nuisance. The only positive thing that day was the wide beaming smile that Larynda gave me when I handed her a cute, quivering ball of fur. As an added twist, we gave her some new jerky we had prepared that same day to feed the poor thing. ***** And life went on beneath the warded canvas. Then one day, as if on a divine whim, the darkness ended and the rain stopped. There was the deluge, the torrent, then there was nothing but sunlight and a great double rainbow that arced across the sky, heralding the next phase of our journey. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Finally, I no longer had to put up with the stale air of a pressed humanity forced into close quarters for what seemed like weeks on end. Stepping outside the canvas, I saw before me a multitude of other camps similar to our own, dotting the hills. However, most surprising of all was in the distance, starting where the grassland met the desert of the Whispering Wastes, was a line of green that ended on the horizon. A river as straight as an arrow¡ªthe Green Road, as Laes had told it. The road we would be traveling for the rest of our journey to Al-Lazar. The Ravens had already begun to break down the great tent under which we had all sheltered, beast and human alike. All around me was a hive of activity as people brought down, folded, packed, and stored the canvas. Only once this labor was finished, did the people of the caravan begin to prepare for the morning meal. There was none of the earlier air of festivity about the camp, only a grim industriousness that lent itself to shouted voices and a few well-placed kicks here and there on the younger, more-idle members of the caravan. After a hurried meal, we bundled onto our respective vehicles and set off for the Green Road, well ahead of the other camps. It was a testament to Laes¡¯ and Gelgor¡¯s logistical skill that they were able to achieve this feat. Their wide wheels, leaving shallow tracks across the grass, rumbled forward across the muddy earth in a long procession. It was quiet in the wagon without our charge with us, I noticed. Larynda would always pester us with her incessant questions, quite the font of curiosity, once she had gotten over her separation from the old Alchemist. To pass the time and extend my vocabulary, I played word games with Elwin and Kidu. Elwin and I both made sure to let Kidu win on occasion, to stop him from growing surly or belligerent. Sticking my head out of the open shutters after a recent ¡®loss,¡¯ I saw the other groups perhaps half-a-day behind us. All in all, I judged that we were making good time. Even so, Laes pressed on well into the evening and only stopped an hour or two after sunset. Perhaps he was trying to make up for the lost time from the attack and the pointless funerals? That same evening, after the caravan stopped, I was given a large chunk of Zajasite stone by Khalam, who instructed me to hang it about my borrowed mount¡¯s neck. Mouse and I would be on a mounted night patrol, it seemed. I was to be proven right, as I joined up with four other guards. Their numbers included Timur, my comrade in arms, and Arik, my riding instructor. The other two I had met before, but could not remember their names, for we had never been assigned together. They were both of Asian persuasion, swarthy, and short of limb. Luckily, they introduced themselves again to me. ¡°This one is Sukhbat, honored one, and this is my friend Tomorbat. It is often said that perhaps we shared the same father.¡± ¡°I can see that you both look much alike,¡± I replied evenly, in a neutral voice. Looking them both up and down I saw that one called Tomorbat¡¯s figure was gently moving towards fat. ¡°Shared the same father? Bah, drivel! I am, of course, a much more handsome man. Pay him no need, we are cut from different cloth, he and I. Sukhbat is merely a childhood friend. Spend enough time around this rascal and anyone will surely change, for the worse mind you. Were it not for me, this ungrateful fool would have never learned to ride a horse, let alone throw a spear!¡± he guffawed good-naturedly. ¡°Ha! Were it not for me, you would have died three times over in the Grass Sea. You would have been nothing more than a banquet for the birds,¡± returned his friend. ¡°You would make a much more filling feast than I,¡± countered Tomorbat with a feigned growl. This jibes against each other was old banter, more ceremony than anything else, and with none of the poison reserved for true hatred. It was, however, beginning to grate, and were it not for the fact that Timur and Arik were with us, I would have been tempted to turn the pair of them into experience points. I had never been good with inside jokes and weak attempts at humor, but nonetheless, I did my utmost to hide my displeasure behind a vacuous smile. ¡°Keep your wits about you,¡± Arik thankfully interjected, as exasperated as I was with the pair. ¡°Tonight, we need to be on our toes. Bandits have been known to wait out the Weeping, to prey on those that have let down their guard. I will need you to keep your eyes and senses at the ready, men. The rains have been known to bring out more than just Whispermews!¡± the man chortled. All I could do was grit my teeth. Book 2: The Green Road [Part 1] I believe that it is in this cradle of vulnerability, this realm of tender dependence, that the true nature of the human soul is forged. For it is the very incompleteness of our birth, the knowledge that we are unready to face the world, that grants us the strength to endure, to adapt, and ultimately to triumph over the challenges that life presents. - The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC. It took a few days of solid travel, but eventually, the green of the endless grass turned to a yellow, then to brown scraggly brush, before finally disappearing altogether as we entered the domain of the white sand. This was true except for one place, the line of green that cut through the Whispering Wastes, the seasonal river that was called the Green Road by the people of this land. I was riding ahead of the caravan, with the two friends Tomorbat and Suhkbat, Khalam¡¯s second, Jasper, and my gambling comrade, Likam, the old guard. We were roughly two horses¡¯ length apart from each other on the left bank of the oddest of rivers. The Samasutum, or the Green Road, was as straight as a well-crafted spear, with neither bend nor turn, all the way to the horizon¡¯s edge. Its waters were shallow and it was a uniform twenty or so paces wide. The river¡¯s water was crystal clear and one could see the white sand and stone along its bottom. Small fish swam with and against the current, silvery shadows that darted to and fro. All along the banks of this strange river were new growths of wiry grass, small flowering bushes, and large ferns twice as tall as the largest of men. Insects buzzed in the air among the rapidly-forming mist as morning turned to afternoon. I saw a purple beetle, the size of a closed fist, alight momentarily on Mouse¡¯s head, causing my mount to snort in displeasure and shake her mane. On our afternoon patrol, the weather had become a little warmer as we journeyed further south. The mist that had grown along the banks of the river in the morning had mostly been banished by the rising sun. I noticed that, despite it being broad daylight, the leader of our small group, Jasper, held a lit, burning torch in his hand. When I questioned Suhkbat, or it could have been Tomorbat¡ªthese people all looked the same after all¡ªhe explained to me that it was to ward off a certain type of monster that lived along the Green Road. Sandgorgers, Likam took over explaining, were a type of monstrous amphibian that resembled a giant three-eyed frog. The creatures would lash out at the unwary from beneath the water of the river, or the wet sands of the banks, with their long prehensile tongues, before charging in and savaging them. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Suddenly, the wet sand, a score of strides ahead of me, erupted as a long line of pink wrapped around my left arm. I saw a large brown three-eye amphibian, with a crest of bone running down its back. Its skin hung loosely around its large frame in fleshy folds, and it was more akin to a toad than a frog. Its maw gaped wide, revealing rows of serrated teeth, and I grasped that the fleshy coil entwined about my limb was none other than the creature''s elongated tongue. Without forewarning, the beast commenced to drag me towards itself, the force of the pull threatening to unseat me from Mouse. I struggled for mastery as Mouse reared up in fright. The monster was about the size of a small cow, and as mount and rider, we valiantly struggled against it. Luckily for me, Jasper charged at it, torch in hand, scaring off the creature and forcing it to withdraw its long tongue and flee to the safety of the river. There, it jumped into the shallow waters and started swimming with great speed downriver. ¡°These things fear the fire,¡± commented Jasper, ¡°Though I did not expect them to rouse themselves so early in the season, and so close to the Grass Sea, which is worrying. No doubt they will be hungry after their long sleep, but I think we will not make for an easy meal!¡± ¡°How about the others that travel behind us? We cannot allow these creatures to live; they endanger those who travel behind us,¡± I added, eager for experience, and confident after seeing that I had suffered no damage from the monster. ¡°They are easy enough to ward away with fire, Gilgamesh, and pose no threat to us,¡± Jasper added a little testily. ¡°But what of those who do not know this? The young child or fellow unwary traveler? Sure, we cannot kill them all, but at least we can show them the error of targeting men. We are armed and strong, and they should pose no threat to us,¡± I stated confidently. ¡°Those are fine and noble words, as expected, from one that walks with the Goddess. I have a small son, no more than three years to this day. I am with Gilgamesh with this. It is for the strong and able to protect the weak, that is why we are getting paid too, yes?¡± opined Sukhbat. I had to repress an irrational tick of irritation at his mention of Avaria. His friend Tomorbat rolled his shoulders before adjusting his seat in the saddle, as he looked across at the flowing water of the river. ¡°Surely a little exercise will let us work up a little appetite for dinner. My wife says that I am getting too fat and I feel she would be a little warmer in bed if I regained my former majesty. Come now, you know these Sandgorgers make for a good meal. It will give Chef Amgalan some variety to cook,¡± he chortled good-naturedly. ¡°Why must the pair of you always wish to create more work! Fine, we will hunt these Sandgorgers but I can not risk our mounts,¡± he paused momentarily, before turning on his seat, ¡°Sukh, you will lead our horses far from the shore, but close enough that you might render us assistance. Sir Gilgamesh, since this is your idea, you will do the honors of luring these creatures out. That last one must have had the hunger with him to attack a group of four,¡± Jasper commanded, his voice growing stern with authority. Book 2: The Green Road [Part 2] I took his words in, weighing them, and found them grating. It was what I wanted, but I did not enjoy being maneuvered into a decision that was not of my own making. Nonetheless, I dismounted without a word, albeit a little awkwardly with all of my new gear, and then gave Jasper a winning smile, ¡°Very well,¡± I acquiesced. ¡°But let us make a game of it. Let us see who can kill the most of these terrors,¡± I added, unstrapping my shield from my shoulder. Almost as if on cue, Sukhbat asked, ¡°What are we wagering? Not that I care, for I am bound to lose,¡± he furrowed his brow for a second in thought before he found enlightenment, ¡°Perhaps, I could wager on a winner!¡± ¡°How about a copper, just for fun? Would not wish to rob you before the evening¡¯s games, for that would truly kill my enjoyment,¡± I grinned at my fellows as I patted Mouse. Smiling weakly, I handed her reins to the genial Sukhbat. ¡°Ha, I¡¯ll show you lot. I¡¯ve still got a bit of bite left in me. I¡¯ve been killing these things when you were still soiling your small clothes. By the smell of things, you lot still do!¡± Likam added to the mix with a good-natured growl. ¡°This is a serious thing! Hah! Even as men, our hearts are as boys, or so my wife reminds me, often and loudly. Perhaps the old Likam is right. Good thing there is a river nearby where you can clean yourself up,¡± our leader Jasper sighed as he placed a slightly-worn nasal helm on his head. Grinning secretly to myself, I followed suit, placed my helm on my head, and took my place at the front of our group. I began to whistle a tune from my old world as I walked ahead. A few seconds later I looked back to confirm the distance between us, not that I was worried, only to see Jasper drop a medium-sized purple stone onto the damp sands. I noted that Jasper kept his cavalry lance, even on foot, while Likam and Tomorbat held small bows at the ready. The rascals let me walk about fifteen or twenty paces in front of them before they started to follow behind me. It seemed I really was going to be the lure and bait. However, I planned to be much more. Every single one of those creatures that I could get my hands on, I would turn to experience points. With Larynda now sharing a wagon with Cordelia, I had lost easy access to my Mana battery. I needed to get to the next level as soon as possible, in order to get to the next level in Mana Regeneration, to help make up for the deficit. But these were thoughts for another time, I chided myself, and shook my head. Since it was my job to lure the creatures, my new Quassian crossbow would be of little use, so I drew the sword-hammer at my hip. The weapon felt solid, a comforting weight, and I moved onwards. It was getting a little hotter now, just a touch outside the realm of uncomfortable. Already I could feel the sweat beginning to form across my skin. I was warmed from within and without as my eagerness to accumulate experience mounted. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Ten or so minutes later, feeling uncomfortable, I turned again to check on the rest of my group when I felt it. Instincts that were gifted to primal man, from when we warred with the saber-tooth and the Neanderthal flared, to life and I spun around with my shield raised. Another sticky pink thing, a tongue from a Sandgorger, wet with saliva, had smacked against my shield before wrapping around my arm. This time, without the benefit of Mouse¡¯s added weight and Strength I struggled against the monster¡¯s pull. I braced myself for a moment in the sand, pulling against the creature before I saw arrows start to fly towards it. Luckily, all but one of the missiles hit the creature. However, even the ones that hit failed to cause great damage, as its tough, warty skin absorbed most of the force. Even as we struggled against each other, I cast Entropic Aura, almost as if by second nature. Waves of raw Entropy burst from me and washed across the creature, and I had the satisfaction of watching the creature blink in what I considered to be fear. ¡°How the hunter is hunted,¡± I whispered to myself, in grim satisfaction. I gripped the monster¡¯s tongue and the creature began to panic, trying furiously to extricate its wriggling, vile appendage. Not today, little one, not today, my heart sang in joy. The guards were shouting at me, but I could hear none of it. I was so focused on this contest of man against beast, my blood was up and none would stand in my way. Using Dash, I tried to close the distance and my Stamina fell by a negligible amount, thanks to my inordinately high Constitution. My sword arm rose high before I brought it down in a savage blow, fueled by a Power Strike. The creature gave a high-pitched gurgle as my blow connected with the side of its ugly face and smashed out a few of its teeth. Green blood seeped from the wound, and instead of white, I saw that the bones of its exposed jaw were turquoise in color. Disgusted, I raised my sword and fell into a festival of release, this time taking out its eyes with slashes and stabs. Behind me, the group was still shouting some indecipherable nonsense. Could they not see that I was preoccupied? I had experience to farm here, I roared in glee. Then another alien pink tongue shot out, this time from the water¡¯s edge, and coiled itself around the wrist of my sword arm. With a new foe, my first reaction was to let go of the first Sandgorger¡¯s tongue. This one seemed stronger, and I saw a large horn on the snout of the new creature. Damn bloody things, one after another. In the corner of my vision, I saw the first monster limping away, trailing blood as it wandered in circles across the new vegetation. Digging my heels in, I formed the spell incantation of Drain in the silent halls of my mind, as the dark voices lent me their guidance. Once the spell was ready, I let the magic form a different sort of connection with my foe, grinning when the hungry lines traveled up its thick pink tongue. Impressions of sleep, thirst, and hunger over long months clouded my mind for half-a-second before I ignored them. They were irrelevant and unnecessary, so I simply prepared another Drain spell. Going through the motions of the spell, I released questing tendrils of black midnight, invisible to anyone else but me, that reached out for the other struggling amphibian, as it made strange, alien cries of pain. Using another Dash, this time away from my foe, I pulled the larger, horned monster away from the water¡¯s edge. Now that things were a battle of attrition, I had things well in hand, and I planted my feet and faced the creature. I pulled, pulled, and kept pulling at the horned one before me, in a contest of Strength. Book 2: Better Late than Never [Part 1] The Festival of the Undrawn, a lingering echo of our primitive ancestry, hails from a time when the Founders first crossed the Whispering Wastes, the barren Sim Edin. Called the Contest of Saints in less-cultured circles, I am consumed by aversion for this uncultured relic, yet both the clergy and the masses cling fervently to this crass tradition, yes, and even some of those of higher station. To what end must they offer violence unto one another, with fist and foot, in supplication to the divine? Surely, the celestial beings would savor more-refined tributes, such as the elegance of art, the melody of song, or the exquisite rhythm of poetic verse. - From the diary of Lady Aelayah of House Salahaem.
You have gained 1 Strength.
Welcome as it was, I mentally pushed the notification aside. What were the others doing? Incompetent fools. Just as these thoughts started, I heard shouts behind me. They were saying something important-sounding, but I could not spare them any attention, as I was completely focused on besting the monster in front of me. A few more arrows flew by and embedded themselves in the horned-toad thing¡¯s side. They served as nothing more than a distraction, but enough of one, and that allowed me to pull my enemy closer. Grabbing another length of tongue, I continued pulling, when yet another monstrous tongue from a different beast flew out from beneath a small bush and wrapped itself around my chest. As I struggled to keep my footing, I spared a moment to size up yet another adversary. This new one was a sickly green and ¡®small¡¯, like the first specimen I had encountered. Blazes, these things were annoying. Finally, from behind me, I could hear the sounds of my fellows coming to my assistance and my mind started to parse what they were saying. ¡°There¡¯s a whole KNOT of them! Don¡¯t just stand there, help Gilgamesh!¡± I heard Likam shout. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I felt a flash of irritation as Jasper ran past me to try and finish off the crippled Sandgorger. At the same time, Tomorbat and Likam, rushing to me, had shouldered their bows and drawn short swords. For a brief moment I thought that they meant to do me in, before the pair started to hack at the tough rubbery thing still wrapped around my trunk. Under assault, and bleeding a viscous green, the amphibian withdrew its injured tongue. The monster then gave a loud, ominous croak, and charged at me. The other guards shouted to each other in warning, but I could pay them no attention as I was still contending with the horned one that was stubbornly struggling against me. Unfortunately, Jasper, too, was similarly preoccupied, his efforts bent towards killing the one I had blinded. The heady power of the Drain was filling me. A quick glance at my Status showed that I was at full Health and barely losing any Stamina. Still, even drunk on my own magic, I could see that, with my sword arm entangled, it would be difficult to deal with the new and closing threat, the smaller Sandgorger. But I was not without recourse, as I used another Skill that turned my shield into a weapon. Aiming to check the charging creature, I used Shield Bash, swinging my shield just as the creature leapt at me.
You have learned Shield Bash (lvl.2) You have learned Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.3)
¡°Well-struck!¡± laughed Tomorbat. I grinned like a feral beast, for my blow had connected with the side of its head and stunned the Sandgorger. Perhaps this was finally my Luck attribute coming into play? It truly felt wonderful when one¡¯s Skills improved. Swift to react, my comrades fell upon the monster, hacking and slashing with wild abandon. Still entangled, I left the poor thing to the gentle attentions of Likam and Tomorbat as I focused once again on the animal whose tongue was wrapped stubbornly around me. I could feel the thing weakening, its very life energies being leeched by my dark spell. But feelings are not facts, and I needed confirmation.
Sandgorger - (Trap Toad lvl.14)
Health: 181/195 Stamina: 21/38 Mana: 1/2
Book 2: Better Late than Never [Part 2] It seems that combat really is the best of instructors, I thought grimly as I continued the attack. Grievously wounded as it was, the creature was not yet done, as one of its front claws swiped at me in a vicious counterattack, which I barely raised my shield in time to meet. The Sandgorger struck again, drawing shallow rents in my shield with its claws. With its Stamina dropping precipitously, this time the attack was a lethargic thing, with none of the power and viciousness of its last few attacks. I had the creature now.
You have slain two Sandgorgers 30 experience gained.
I finished the creature off with a simple stab through its right eye, and almost simultaneously I was informed that the others in my group had felled another of the creatures. Cursing, I knew it had to be Jasper who had finished off his target, as the flow of stolen energy to me was abruptly cut off. That man was starting to get on my nerves. Bloody kill-stealer. With this thought in my mind, I rushed to the aid of Likam and Tomorbat. ***** What followed was a systematic dismantling of a monster. Taking down the remaining Sandgorger was a trivial thing. The beast was outnumbered, and now lacked the element of surprise, making it easy for us to attack the giant toad from all sides at once. For this, I earned a trifling amount of experience. ¡°I really could have done with a little more help back there with the horned one. Why did you go off chasing the one that was basically half-dead?¡± I asked our leader Jasper as he was helping to dress the bodies, his arm growing bloody with the work. Taking a moment for myself, I sat down on a rock to catch my breath while I waited for his answer. Sand, as expected of a desert, was getting into everything and souring my mood. ¡°If we had allowed that one to escape, it would have brought down even more of them upon us. I knew the others were with you,¡± he said, almost grunting as he removed the guts and entrails from the large horned specimen. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Cutting out the horn, Likam tossed me the beastly trophy, which I caught easily with both hands. ¡°A bull Sandgorger''s horn holds value. I believe you''ve earned it," he remarked, a faint trace of reluctant admiration in his voice. "And this is why we call them Sandgorgers," he clicked his tongue as sand and small rocks fell out from the gullet of the beast. The rest of the gang laughed at this before they continued with their work, their knives sawing into the remains of the Sandgorgers. ¡°What was that stone you dropped before, the purple one?¡± I inquired, refilling my flask from the river and taking a sip. I was unsure if the river water was actually safe to drink, though with my monstrous Constitution and magic, I could probably drink sewage water with little ill effect. "Caution Stone," he said, his voice tinged with concern. "Informs those behind that we now tread upon Sandgorger territory. I''ve not seen them this near to the Rump before; they typically dwell further within the Whispering Wastes. This development... it troubles me." He furrowed his brow in worry. "We should take these carcasses, return before they spoil. Acquire fresh mounts and hunt more of the beasts farther out. Thin their numbers," he concluded, going back to his bloody work. After completing our task, we distributed the weight of the dressed kills among the four horses, and guided them back on foot. Exhausted, and slightly battered from the skirmish, we rejoined the head of the caravan an hour or two later. We all made sure to avail ourselves to one torch each before we set off to find more of the monsters. Why hadn¡¯t Jasper used one of the torches and just charged straight in? Could it be that he wanted to steal the experience from my kill? I wondered to myself as we set off. Scanning my Status, I noted that I was at full Health and just a few points shy of full Mana. I also was pleased with my gain in the Strength attribute, as well the improvement in several of my skills. With a happy grin, I saw that my new skill Rush Strike, at twenty points, used less Stamina than a Dash and Power Strike combination, which was a welcome development. Undoubtedly, had I not been clad in my protective armor and armed with a lethal new weapon, the recent encounter would have played out quite differently. My gear made a big difference to my survivability and, coupled with my new offensive technique, I could only grow more in power. But my current equipment was made for normal men, and by design, constrained by the limits of human Stamina and Strength, limits I was slowly exceeding. Perhaps in the future, I could commission some armor and weapons more suitable for my new power. Truly I had grown strong, grown powerful. I chafed, eager for more experience and a chance to advance my skills. However, to my disappointment, our second foray brought us face-to-face with only a solitary Sandgorger, a smaller female, which we were able to quickly dispatch. I even managed to employ my crossbow, grasping the beast¡¯s tongue with one hand and loosing a bolt through the roof of its mouth with the other. A most gratifying experience. Book 2: Going for a Ride [Part 1] The Timekeeper Knot bears an esteemed legacy, once utilized by the venerated imperial emissaries. It manifests as a tangible commitment, a sworn obligation to deliver results with all due haste. Woven amid the elegant silk lies a potent toxin, its potency subject to the mastery of skilled alchemists who can manipulate the poison''s onset. The recipient of the package or message alone holds the key to the tailored antidote. In the modern period, the knot persists only as a symbol, its deadly poison a relic of times past. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. After thoroughly searching the local environs for further signs of the monsters, the Guard Master and Laes listened to our report, and judged it to be safe. Well, relatively so, at least. Laes, informed of our encounter with the toads, appeared to be brooding as he swallowed the news. The leader of the caravan ordered us to stop for the evening near the area where we had first encountered the Sandgorgers. Khalam acerbically commented that if the desert-dwelling creatures were this close to the edge of the Wastes, then something might have pushed them out from their usual territory. A worrying thought. Larynda, however, proved unrelenting in her curiosity about my encounter with these new creatures, bombarding me with a litany of questions, demanding that I recount each detail time and again, as Kidu observed with a contemplative nod. She also asserted that her newfound magic would prove invaluable in dealing with this threat. Silently, I had weighed her offer, my gaze drawn to her new pet - a Whispermews that quivered in fear at my presence, seeking refuge in the folds of Larynda''s attire. In the end, the girl extracted a promise from me that she would be allowed to accompany us on our next outing. Despite the potential merit of her newfound abilities, I harbored doubts regarding her untested skills. Still, real combat was one of the fastest teachers, and the potential experience gain might foster her growth. The girl, in my estimation at least, had demonstrated a startling resilience of mind. After all, it was an uncommon occurrence when a child could display scant remorse after taking the lives of men. Perhaps her prior existence on the streets had tempered her resolve, or it might simply be the norm within this harsh realm, for even the young to lead a brutal existence. The Grieving Lands, it seemed, held a penchant for culling the useless and the weak. To her credit, I mused. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Elwin, too, seemed unusually eager. I had taken him for a bit of a coward, which made his newfound enthusiasm all the more puzzling. Perhaps he was looking forward to working out some kinks. Perhaps people really do change. As for Cordelia, she just smiled subserviently, promising to do whatever I commanded, as it was ¡¯s will. Despite her meek and humble attitude, I always made a point of not holding the woman¡¯s gaze for too long, for her eyes would grip my attention tightly. Compelling in their intensity, their depths were like a lesser version of herself. The attitude she wore felt like a facade, for her voice held hints of one being used to command, and her expression seemed to always be hiding something far more violent and zealously fierce. In addition to this, she would hang upon my every word, as if it were gospel. Often, I would catch her repeating something I said or commented upon in passing, as if dedicating it to memory. I found the whole thing a little worrying, yet at the same time flattering. It is not often that one is treated like divinity made flesh. Instead of the usual group of guards, I thought it best to assemble my own group to range ahead of the caravan to exterminate the rest of the giant frogs. Not only would this boost my esteem further in the eyes of the Ravens, but would, no doubt, help me to advance to even greater heights, as I gained more experience alongside my companions. I found Laes during the evening meal to broach the idea to him, glad that Khalam, his Guard Master was not around. No doubt that stubborn old goat would find any sort of reason to try to deny me. ¡°Good evening to you, Master Harevor,¡± I began respectfully, with a small inclination of my head. ¡°Master Gilgamesh, to what do I owe this visit? The list of your epic feats grows by the day,¡± returned Laes, smiling feebly. ¡°Pray, do tell what they are saying about me now? I was trying to keep a fairly low profile,¡± I laughed weakly. ¡°Legends have a habit of growing even when unwatered. My guard tells me that you and you alone overpowered an adult bull Sandgorger by wrestling it down and beating it with your fists. Still others¡ªI think it''s that bumbling pair¡ª say that despite wearing a mountain of steel, you move like a Zlesh viper on the sands. Had I not witnessed the miracles that you so easily dispense, I might have taken these for the typically drunken ramblings of bored men,¡± the man answered pointedly before he drew a deep breath. ¡°But, in truth, I do not believe you are here to be regaled by tales of your exploits.¡± Book 2: Going for a Ride [Part 2] I looked the man in the eye and spoke to him directly. ¡°True indeed, Master Laes. I fear that these monstrous frogs, these Sandgorgers, present a threat that must be dealt with. I would volunteer, if you would allow me, to ride ahead and deal with this menace. I wish to exterminate as many of them as I can. For the good of all, of course.¡± ¡°Truly, you are a strange man. But I would not begrudge you this¡­ request, as it would be of direct benefit to me. What would you wish in exchange? Know that I can not afford to pay you anymore. Not if I wish to turn a profit at any rate from this trip,¡± he sighed, looking a little worn. ¡°Nothing at all. Cordelia preaches of charity and I have taken a little of her words to heart. I am already in your employ, am I not? Consider this as just me taking up a little initiative.¡± The man seemed to have reached a decision as he straightened up and said firmly, ¡°Very well, Gilgamesh. Though truly, I cannot fathom your motive, I feel that you should do as you wish. I see no negatives for the Ravens, and the fewer Sandgorgers along the Green Road, the better for all. Still, I would just ask that you try and stay safe and not underestimate the creatures of the Waste. Old Hamsa would reprimand me mightily if anything were to happen to you. Also, I fear you have yet to see what other manner of beasts make the bleach bone sands their home.¡± ¡°If we might also borrow some horses¡­ for I intend to go with my entourage,¡± I thought to add. ¡°Yes, of course. Speak to Beastmaster Abas about that tomorrow. I will have a word with him myself. He too sings your praises, did you know? Please remember that horses are expensive. Abas believes the animals of this train to be almost family to him. Also, I fear that we have no mount suitable for your¡­ larger companion¡­ the North man,¡± the caravan master finished with a long-suffering sigh, as if it were him doing me a favor. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ***** The next day we found an Abas Yar much recovered now from his ailments. The Beastmaster was more than accommodating when we found him in the early hours of the morning. Straighter of back, firmer of grip, and keener of eye was the old man, with none of the racking coughs that had plagued him. Bowing to me reverently, he found horses and tack for all of my party. Larynda, however, declared that she would be riding on Patches, causing the donkey to bray enthusiastically, as if in agreement. The question of Kidu was another matter, for the man was much too large for any of the available horses. He would simply break their backs. The Hunter offered to run, but it was Abas who solved our predicament. The Beastmaster suggested that his nephew, Pakum, should come with us, with one of the train¡¯s Xaruar. The boy would take the reins of the land dragon and Kidu would sit behind him. I pitied the pair, for the bone armor plates of the creature¡¯s back did not look like the most comfortable of seats. This arrangement, as well as preventing the giant of a man from exhausting himself keeping pace with the horses, would also allow us to carry more baggage. The beast itself, Buttercup, a large male who had been hatched by Pakum, would also intimidate some of the lesser creatures of the Wastes¡ªor at least, so I was told. Pakum himself was a slip of a youth. I was told that he had seen sixteen summers, and he stood tall for his age, his short chestnut hair mirroring the hue of his eyes. However, the boy''s slender form was plagued by the awkwardness of limbs still adjusting to their burgeoning growth. Added to this, his face was, in the manner of many adolescents, a map of the unwelcome encroachment of acne. Once he heard that we were ranging out to clear the way of Sandgorgers, Paku busied himself in preparation. He gathered wooden torches for our journey and armed himself with a modest sling, a spear, and a light mail shirt. The boy had none of the callow attitude so common among those of his age; he was quiet, respectful and, more importantly, knowledgeable and competent. Pakum seemed to have a strong bond with the animals, and the large lizard and horses responded well to the boy¡¯s commands. From my initial impression, I surmised that he would be a welcome addition to our forays. Preparation complete, we set off to kill as many of the creatures as possible. Book 2: Discovery [Part 1] The most disquieting aspect of a religious zealot lies in their uncanny capacity to deflect any criticism. This near-mystical shield arises from their unwavering conviction in serving a "higher" power. As they navigate the treacherous landscape of dogma, they remain steadfast in their beliefs, immune to external influences that may challenge or question their devotion. Their unwavering faith and resolute determination make them formidable opponents in any debate or discussion. No rational argument or logical counterpoint can penetrate the impenetrable fortress of their beliefs. Instead, any attempt to criticize or question their views is often perceived as a test of their faith, further bolstering their devotion and sense of righteousness. This imperviousness to critique presents a unique challenge to those who seek to engage with religious zealots in meaningful discourse. The unwavering nature of their faith and their steadfastness in the face of opposition can create an atmosphere where dialogue is stifled and understanding becomes elusive. As a result, bridging the chasm between the unyielding convictions of the zealot and the perspectives of those who hold differing beliefs can become a seemingly insurmountable task. - The Question of Religion and Its Purpose by Gideon de Salavia 374 AC. It was only half-a-day¡¯s ride when we encountered the Sandgorgers. At first, I would range ahead with a lit torch in hand to try and provoke the hidden amphibians into an attack. Once a group, or individual, of the monsters was found, Pakum would hang back with our mounts. There he would stake our animals, set up a temporary camp, and light a fire made from dried vegetation, unearthed a few inches under the sand. It was a rather careless strategy and would need some refinement. Kidu would then look for any signs of monsters that I missed, find their exact location, and flush them out. At first he was hesitant, as his finely-honed instincts and skills were still adapting to an unfamiliar environment. As time progressed, however, he grew more sure of himself, and led us to where our victim was hidden. ¡°There, look, on the dry snow,¡± the wildman observed, pointing to a small rock formation twenty or so paces away from the far bank of the shallow river. ¡°Sand,¡± Elwin corrected tartly, which drew a dark look from Kidu. Squinting my eyes, I could not see it at first, but as my eyes truly focused upon it, I began to see the details that betrayed the Sandgorgers. A small area of the sand was a little different, a little darker, and the nearby vegetation had been subtly disturbed.
You have learned Tracking lvl.1
Having learned a new skill, I grinned inanely. Kidu must have taken my expression for one of eagerness, as he smiled wolfishly in return. ¡°I can flush it out, if I approach from the other direction with fire. Make it run to you!¡± he offered gleefully. ¡°It is a good and simple plan. But the Northman will need to reach the other side undetected before lighting his torch. If there are others, his is the most dangerous of tasks,¡± commented Cordelia, her beautiful lips pursed in thought. Larynda raised a hand timidly and I gave her a small nod. ¡°I¡¯ve been learning a lot about the feel for this Water stuff. The old woman told me something about it being in all things. Dunno about that, but to me it just kinda flows different when it¡¯s in living stuff. Anyways, don¡¯t think there¡¯s any of ¡®em nearby, at least not in the river. Don¡¯t know about all this sand, though,¡± piped the small girl. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°I don''t think there are any of them,¡± corrected Cordelia with a saintly smile, which caused the half-elf to roll her eyes. This small act of disrespect, in turn, prompted the Temple Knight to cuff her lightly about the head, drawing a small ¡®ouch¡¯ from the child. I was taken a little aback by how no one commented on the casual use of violence in disciplining children. Different cultures, I supposed. ¡°That aside for a moment, I believe there might be someone more suitable for the task¡­¡± I ventured. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll do it. How bad can a bunch of overgrown frogs be anyways?¡± huffed Elwin, with his usual rascally smile. ¡°This is for me,¡± rumbled Kidu countered ominously. Listening to their exchange, I decided it would be best to refrain from any addition to their discussion. I had a feeling that anything I said would be simply adding oil to the fire. ¡°Alright, alright, big man. Knock yourself out. Was just thinking you¡¯d be more useful shooting at them with that big bow of yours, right?¡± the Rogue explained quickly. ¡°No, you shoot,¡± Kidu insisted stubbornly. ¡°I can barely draw that thing¡­¡± Elwin made to go on, but he quickly clammed up on the subject when he saw Kidu¡¯s expression grow dangerous. ¡°Alright, as I said before. I¡¯ll have some fun with it. I needed a bit of practice anyways. Don¡¯t blame me if one of my arrows nicks you, if I can even shoot that thing,¡± he grumbled, as he accepted the quiver and bow from the Hunter. ¡°Hah, I doubt that, little man. If you should be of such poor aim, then I will simply just catch the needle!¡± he exclaimed, slapping the smaller man¡¯s back good-naturedly. ***** We were divided essentially into three. Kidu, Cordelia, and I carefully crossed the river, alert for even the smallest signs of the monsters. Elwin and the girl followed a bit after, the bright smile on Larynda¡¯s face at odds with the Rogue¡¯s somewhat dour expression. The general plan was to try and herd the animals downstream, to prevent any of their number from escaping. I had Elwin and Larynda remain a little downstream, to at least ostensibly, be in a position to pick off any monsters that got past us. In reality, I wanted them out of the way and in the safest position. For me, this was an extermination mission to maximize the amount of experience gained. There was indeed a chance of getting flanked or simply biting off more than we could chew, but I had faith that Kidu¡¯s sharp senses would not lead us astray. There was always a little risk in everything you did. Checking on our Rogue and Mage, I saw wavy dark green fronds growing from the bone-white sands near where the pair were waiting. At this distance, the plants looked more like wool than vegetation. Looking back, I saw that Elwin had started applying some flammable resin to the arrows. I had been told that such were the creatures¡¯ fear of fire, that this would be enough to dissuade them from entering the river and swimming away. Pakum had informed us that the creatures could not go that far under the sand and would not be able to escape us by simply ¡®digging¡¯ in. This meant that as long as we were able to find them, things would be relatively simple, as we could run them down at our leisure. In short, we would not be needing shovels. Finishing our crossing, Kidu rushed off ahead to flush out the creature, giving its suspected location a wide berth. I unslung my new crossbow and loaded one of my iron bolts. This new piece of ammunition had small iron fins, instead of feathers, to provide a small measure of stabilization in flight. Undoubtedly, being heavier these bolts would have less range than regular bolts, but would pack more of a punch up close. Also, I had the inkling of an idea that I wanted to test. Cordelia graced me with a smile that could outshine the sun itself, as she settled a plumed horsehair barbute atop her noble brow. The ''T'' shaped visor lent her an air of menace, reminiscent of the classical Spartans. Then she drew her storied longsword with an easy grace. ¡°You do this to safeguard those who travel behind us,¡± she began. ¡°Indeed. We must teach these things to fear man. That we are not prey,¡± I answered casually, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Cracking my neck, I dug the tip of my shield into the loose sand, using it as a simple stand to rest my crossbow as I waited. I saw her mouthing my words, repeating them, and sampling their taste. ¡°Make ready, Kidu is fast in his duties,¡± I said a little tersely, wanting to avoid unnecessary conversation before a fight. ¡°As you will,¡± she answered. Book 2: Discovery [Part 2] The Temple Knight¡¯s demeanor completely changed; her expression grew taut and she adopted a fighting stance. The woman had entered a short guard stance, with the blade pointing out in front of her, the tip around eye level. There was a roar, more animal, really, than human. Kidu, far ahead of us and behind the creature, threw his torch and the flaming brand arced its way to where the Sandgorger lay in ambush. Bursting out of the sand, the monsters, for they turned out to be more than one, ran towards us, away from the burning flame and the Hunter¡¯s wild pursuit. Three creatures had sprung out from the sands, light brown with splotches of a dull white across their backs. The damnable wild man had failed to inform us of their number. All three of these creatures were without horns, so they were probably juveniles or females, but even these smaller specimens still posed a threat. Two of the creatures rushed Cordelia and I, while the remaining Sandgorger darted around us. It ran at a diagonal to the straight line, heading towards Elwin and Larynda¡¯s general direction. Spear in hand, Kidu was running behind the amphibians, shouting like a loon and herding them downriver to us. Elwin and Larynda would have to fend for themselves, as I could spare them no further thought. I sighted down my crossbow and loosed both a bolt and a spell. Even as the solid iron missile flew through the air, black lightning flowed from me, into it. The bolt grew incandescent like a tracer round before it slammed into the creature¡¯s middle eye, stopping the monster dead in its tracks. I was aiming for its center mass, but this was indeed better.
You have learned Inferno Bolts (lvl.1) You have learned Rust (lvl.4) You have gained 1 Luck.
I grinned to myself, for my little scheme had worked. I had been playing with the idea for a while now, ever since the day I had broken my own chains with the spell. Entropic forces condensed what would have been weeks of oxidization into mere seconds, releasing a huge amount of thermal energy. Exploiting the rapid exothermic reaction of the Rust spell had essentially allowed me to cast a mini-fireball as an ¡®Inferno Bolt¡¯ it seemed. This new skill, the upgrade to my Rust spell, and the Luck gain were very much a welcome windfall. Perhaps the Sandgorgers were my lucky animals? The other amphibian sprang forth and ate up the distance between us, Kidu chasing it from behind. There was scant time to ponder, and I did not have the calm discipline to loose another bolt from my crossbow. I prepared to meet it head-on. As fast as Kidu was, the monster was faster still. For the first few crucial seconds of this engagement, I could expect no aid from the wild man. Now, it was close enough that I could see the monster¡¯s bulging eyes. Suddenly, the Sandgorger¡¯s powerful legs propelled it forward in a ferocious leap, and in midair, it unleashed its tongue in my direction. Reacting quickly, I lifted my shield to deflect the unwelcome appendage. Yet, it was the Temple Knight who proved to be swifter, for she rushed towards the monster and swung downwards at it with her magical sword. In defiance of common sense and physics, the blade connected with the side of the Sandgorger¡¯s face, and the large creature crashed to the ground, robbed of its forward momentum. Its three eyes betrayed a wild panic as it attempted to regain its footing, but Cordelia''s storied sword descended with a final hammer blow, ending the creature''s life in a single, decisive stroke. Stolen novel; please report. Well, I guess I won¡¯t be getting any experience from that one, I thought to myself. I jogged over to the other creature that was on the ground, its limbs spasming weakly, eager to finish it off. However, by the time I reached it, the bolt had worked its way to its brain matter, killing it, and the smell of burning chicken filled the air.
You have slain a Sandgorger 20 experience gained.
¡°Excellently, done mi¡­ Gilgamesh,¡± Cordelia commented demurely as she made her way to my side. ¡°Not half as impressive as your performance¡­ Cordelia,¡± I returned a little wryly, her name still a little unfamiliar to my tongue. She glanced down, unable to meet my eyes. ¡°Avaria guides my hand.¡± ¡°I guess so. Anyways, we best help over there,¡± I responded, feeling uncomfortable, as I always did when she mentioned her goddess. My other three companions were busy fighting the last monster, and I could see that they had things well in hand. While Elwin shot a few arrows into the creature, Larynda summoned balls of water that flew out from the river and struck the monster¡¯s hide with unfortunately little effect. Kidu was having the time of his life, a large smile on his face as he waved the lit torch that he had picked up off the sand with one hand. Almost playfully, he stabbed at the creature with his spear in the other. The creature was wavering between the states of flight or fight, attempting to do both, and failing to do either. This allowed the trio to wear it out. Whenever it would try to escape, Kidu would stab at it. This made the monster turn towards the Hunter, which in turn gave Elwin and Larynda the openings they needed to chip away at it. After a few seconds, the slow brain of the creature would focus on Kidu¡¯s torch. Its fear of fire then caused it to try and flee, starting the whole cycle again, and giving the Hunter another opening to savage its flanks and rear. Cordelia moved to charge at the remaining creature, but I quickly placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking my head to command her to stop. Adding Cordelia to the mix would make things too easy, and I wanted to see the other three companions improve their teamwork. After all, Larynda was still an unknown element. Still, wanting to expedite things a little and to get a little experience, I walked a little closer to the ongoing struggle and cast Drain on the creature. Unerringly, the tendrils of pitch black found the creature, and delicious energies found their way to me. Kidu tossed the torch away to use his spear with both hands. Grinning ferally, he saw an opening and stabbed through the roof of the mouth of the Sandgorger, piercing it through to the brain. He pulled his mighty spear out of its mouth with the satisfied expression of a man who had done a good job. The now corpse twitched for a moment before it stilled.
You have slain a Sandgorger 5 experience gained.
Fantastic, I thought to myself as I raised the visor of my helmet and went over to congratulate them. For a moment I thought I could feel the earth move beneath my feet, but attributed the cause of the sensation to my general excitement. Secure in our victory, I was totally unprepared for the shock and explosion of the white sand and solid flesh that hit me, knocking me off my feet like a ragdoll. Book 2: The Dragon of Earth & Sand* As thanks for the rare and precious gift of your hospitality, welcoming me to your hearth and home, when none before you have dared, I shall bestow my favor upon this youngling, next in line to carry the proud sigil of your house. As the seasons wax and wane, he will grow to sense my presence in every shadowed corner and sunlit glade. With eager hands reaching, and his voice echoing my name across the lands, he will endlessly seek me out and tempt me with offerings numbering in the thousands. Yet, I will forever deny him my direct gaze, turning my countenance aside, and my eyes shall never lower to meet his. He will never know my caress, though he will yearn for it with every fiber of his being. That is my gift. - The Beloved of Death - The Tale of the Undying King, found in the notes of the playwright Vlan di Panoli. I was being mauled by a massive toad, its clawed webbed feet attempting to rip me apart. Luckily, I was protected by my heavy armor, but no matter how I struggled, I simply could not move. I was trapped like an upturned beetle beneath a larger predator. Thankfully, my companions came to the rescue, with one of them bodily forcing it off with a powerful attack. Still, disorientated, it took me a precious few seconds to regain my footing. Looking for the monster that had knocked me over, I saw Cordelia fighting with yet another threat. She was dancing with a large ¡®bull¡¯ Sandgorger, weaving a shimmering pattern of steel with her sword as she deflected its horrible tongue and parried its long horn. Her face was set in lines of grim concentration. Strong and skilled as she was, this was no competition set in stone. Too far away, and in no position to help directly, it took all of my concentration to cast a Drain at her adversary to help turn the tide in her favor. There was a low rumbling and the earth shook. I was unmanned for a moment, my body stock still, my mind recalling memories of a time underground in the bowels of the earth. Vibrations threaded themselves through the desert sands, and the river itself formed waves that crashed against its banks. The shaking grew stronger until it was impossible to keep my balance or stay on my feet. Suddenly, all about me was the very white stuff of the desert as something erupted from deep beneath, roaring with the ferocity of an unleashed gale. I saw a glimpse of what looked like a collection of massive serpent¡¯s scales and spikes, only of a titanic size, rising through the eruption of blinding sand. Futilely, I shouted my companion¡¯s name against the storm, in a panicked reaction, my single voice silenced by the cacophony. Then there was a sensation of falling, as if I was slipping through the earth itself. Something heavy collided against my head, causing my skull to ring, but I was able to keep my consciousness. Almost on reflex, I tried to cast a Heal, but the mastery of its divine energies completely eluded me. System messages flashed across my vision as I fell, pulled along deeper into a river of sand and darkness. Writhing sand dragged me deeper, working its way into my helm, and I spat and choked upon it before deciding to firmly close my eyes and mouth. I flailed trying to grab onto anything to arrest my descent, but could only grab the stuff of the desert, the fine grains sifting through my armored fingers. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it stopped, and I had stopped as well. I shook my head and tried to move my left arm, but felt nothing. Next, I tried to get up, but I felt that my lower half was covered with more of the damn sand. Timidly, I opened my eyes, afraid of what I would or would not find. Seeing only black, I reached for my helm with my right hand, and cleared out the earth and sand that had been blocking my visor. With my vision slightly clearer, it still took a while for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. At first, I could discern nothing save for varying degrees of pitch black, but slowly I saw that the area I was in was lit by a low purple glow. What new hell had my blasted luck taken me to? I thought to myself. Was this the price one had to pay for trying to be a hero? For simply trying to help people by ridding the world of a few monsters? Thoughts of being buried alive intruded upon my mind, but I forced them down with a flare of anger. Behind I could hear the sound of moving sand, like a snake that was tasting the air for its prey. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I rose to my feet, only to realize that my left arm hung limply at my side. Without thinking, I quickly cast a Heal, grimacing as sensation returned, and the limb popped back into place. A cursory glance at my Status showed I was a little worse for wear, with my Health at around seventy percent. The air was cool here. The soft purple luminescence of this area was caused by veins of rock that threaded through the stone walls. Grunting, I shook my head and began exploring. A few moments later, I tripped over a rock and fell flat on my face. Cursing, I wasted energy by punching the ground, only to notice a glint of metal in the poor light. I reached for the metal, and a grin lit my face. It was my weapon.
You have gained 1 Luck.
With hope filling me from the return of my weapon, I cut the air a few times with it in mute celebration. Yes, I was once again trapped under the earth, and my stout shield was lost to me. Still, I was not only armored but armed with a fine and deadly weapon. The system of this world agreed with me, did it not? For it saw my current state as fortuitous and had rewarded me with a point in Luck. Reunited with my sword, I decided to take a quick inventory. Panic¡¯s shadow hovered at the edge of my thoughts, threatening to unman me. It was actually the dire nature of my situation that forced a focus of thought, of a sort anyway, to give me some semblance of functionality. The bag at my side was filled with a few victuals, jerky and hard biscuit wrapped in dried leaf, and my water flask was half-full. Exploring about myself with my trembling hands, and by dint of some much-needed luck, I found my fancy crossbow still strapped about my person. The small quiver filled with bolts was, however, lost to me, no doubt swallowed up by the earth itself. For a few moments, I took the time to think of my companions and their fate. Had they survived whatever it was that had attacked us? For I was sure it was something, rather than just a natural disaster. And the people of the caravan¡ªwhat of them? A drop of water from the ceiling splashed against my face, surprising me. This was followed by an unnatural sound, a low moan that was then taken up by another like it. Suddenly what was one voice turned into a chorus. My bladder grew weak, and the hair of my nape stood up in fear at whatever new horror I would be forced to face. Cautiously, I moved forward as stealthily as my armor would allow, which, I realized with no small amount of regret, was not stealthy at all. Straining my ears, I imagined I heard the clack of metal feet moving across the sand and stone ground. Then I saw it. Two orbs that glowed a menacing red set in its skull. The thing was humanoid, with stick-thin arms that held a comically-large khopesh that gleamed with a silvery light. It was armored in some sort of dull metal that seemed much too big for its slight form. Could it be what I thought it was? I had already gone through the valley of fear, and a portion of a measured clinical calm had settled upon me, the vestiges of my residual panic forced back by necessity. Quickly, I cast an Identify on the aberration before me, wishing to confirm my suspicions.
Praxis Guard [Undead lvl. 9]
Health: 325/325 Stamina: --/-- Mana: --/--
Just bloody great, I thought dourly. Almost as if sensing my thoughts, the undead thing turned towards me. A chill crept down my spine and a cold sweat beaded my brow. I had thought that I was beyond fear, but I would be proven wrong. As the walking dead gazed at me with its unnatural orbs, seeds of an old fear took root. It was one thing to read about or to see depictions of the undead across a flat screen, but it was quite another to see death staring back at you directly. With a clack of metal upon stone, it began to move towards me on skeletal feet. Book 2: No Respite, No Surrender [Part 1]* In a time long ago, there was a man who lived happily with his three daughters. All three were graceful and of fair countenance. However, as is the nature of all things born into this world, his end would come to pass. A death vigil was held by his daughters, commencing with the eldest. She maintained an unbroken stoicism, shedding not a tear for him. The dying man asked her, ¡°Why do you not weep?¡± ¡°I cannot mourn for those still living,¡± she answered gracefully. Next, came the second daughter, and she held his hand as he waited to meet his end. They reminisced about their shared past - the countless joyful days, the painful loss of her mother, his adored wife. Despite the warm nostalgia of their shared memories, he observed a striking absence of tears in her eyes. ¡°Why do you not weep?¡± he asked. "I cannot mourn someone who will find peace in a better place," she replied, concealing her true emotions behind a serene facade. Finally, it was time for the youngest, his cherished child and the joy of his existence, to bid him farewell. ¡°Why do you not weep?¡± he asked. She remained standing, her face etched with a maelstrom of rage and subtle delight. ¡°I cannot mourn you, for bitter joy fills my heart. I hate you with all of my being,¡± she spat, her words scalding with rage. "What has filled your heart with such anger against me, my dear? What have I done to deserve your scorn?" he implored pleadingly, in a beggar¡¯s tone. Her voice was shrill and ringing as she answered him in bitter retort, ¡°You have the gall to ask me this, you who would touch me in the night and call out the name of my mother? You always feigned ignorance, hiding behind the pretext of drunkenness. I have found it in my heart to forgive my sisters for their complicity, but I condemn you with all my heart. I do not weep, for it is I who have killed you. One poisoned cup at a time." Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. In the grip of utter desolation, he met his end with her bitter truth echoing in his dying ears. For the light of justice will always shine on those who seek to hide in the darkest of places. - The Threads of Forgiveness, found in the notes of the playwright Vlan di Panoli. Stately and inexorable, the undead thing made its way towards me, the weapon in its hand raised threateningly to strike. In response, I tried to work up a spark of anger, to fill myself with some token of fighting spirit. However, I failed miserably and only succeeded in raising my sword into a center guard, the tip pointing to face the new menace. Here, deep in this dark tomb, the sweat that had soaked into my gambeson had grown cold and clammy in new fear. I was to do combat with living death. Advancing with the implacability of the grave, it struck at me, once it was within the measure of its khopesh, the gleaming blade blurry and deceptively swift. I wanted nothing to do with this horrible thing, and I edged backward, unconsciously. Facing Death as an abstract idea was one thing, but confronting its unliving embodiment was something else entirely. The undead thing paused, as if unsure at the result of its actions, before it fixed upon me with the baleful glowing orbs it had in place of its eyes. Its empty sockets lit with a lost soul¡¯s luster. The dark guardian regarded me, analyzing the trespasser of its domain. Teeth clacking with a metallic sound, it launched a few probing strikes in my direction. The undead guard¡¯s movements were, for the most part, stilted and slow. Almost predictably so, but interspersed among the cadence of its attacks were serpent-swift strikes that my eyes could barely register. It was, in short, a most-vexing opponent, for it was unpredictable, the slow strikes lulling the senses before it struck at me erratically, but at full speed. I disengaged for a moment and drew upon my magical reserves to unleash Entropic Aura, hoping to hinder the undead guard I faced. The gray waves of entropy lapped against the skeleton, but the walking evil pushed through them unhindered. Grimacing, I quickly followed this spell with Drain, which was empowered by my Aura. I could barely hear the inner voices, my longtime companions. They screamed in frustration as my dark energies made contact with the monster. This time, there was no flood of delicious stolen energy towards me. This skill was one of my aces, and I was thoroughly nonplussed as the Praxis Guard closed the distance to me and cut at me with its curved, heavy sword of war. The sibilant voices within now howled, a howl that I echoed with my own frustration and blossoming rage. I was doing so damn well! I was finally making progress, only to be dumped down here, away from my companions and friends. On top of this, I was now forced to fight some insufferable creature that had the temerity to be resistant to my magic. Book 2: No Respite, No Surrender [Part 2] However, anger is a poor replacement for skill and discipline. Though I hacked away at the offending creature with a few counterstrokes of my own, my blows failed to find any purchase across its unnatural body. In reprisal, the undead guard scored a glancing hit across my vambrace, which I barely noticed in my heightened state of rage. Fight the wielder, not the sword, I reminded myself. Another maxim threaded its way through my thoughts. Fight smarter, not harder. After all I had gone through, surely it was not my destiny for this to be my tomb. Purchasing a few seconds by retreating yet again, I vaguely entertained the idea of just running away from the revenant, into the darkness and the unknown. Further threats could lurk within, however, and I was already struggling as it was. I needed to deal with this here and now. To my chagrin, the long-dead warrior¡¯s jilted movements were slowly turning smoother, as if up until now had been nothing more than a warmup, a rehearsal. Great, just what I need, I thought bitterly as the skeleton closed within striking distance again. But just as the creature''s movements became more natural, so too did my understanding of it. There was an almost mechanical pattern in its strikes. A high cut followed a low, which was, in turn, followed mysteriously by a wide swing of its other arm, which struck nothing but air. This last move in the sequence was important, as it gave me an opportunity to launch an attack of my own. With the insights gained through battle and my rigorous instruction under the overly-zealous Cordelia, I realized, none too late, that the dumb thing was swinging a shield it no longer possessed. I was, in essence, fighting a machine. An undead machine, but a machine nonetheless. No matter how advanced, or magically-enhanced, there is no spell or line of code that can replace real human ingenuity. Waiting for it to play this sequence, I launched a disciplined probing attack of my own that connected. I struck across its collarbone, and there was the dissonant clash of metal on metal. The shock ran up my arm, and I was utterly dumbfounded, for I had been expecting to cut deep into the bone. Barely able to parry its next stroke, I cursed my luck. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. The thing before me was more than just a skeleton warrior. It was a damnable metal skeleton warrior. My cursed Luck! When it rained in my life, it truly poured misery. It was time to try a new line of attack. Shifting my grip, I wielded my sword reversed, like a hammer in the ¡®mordhau,¡¯ the murder-stroke. However, unlike other blades, my weapon was designed to be used in such a way, and the Azag-Gishban felt solid and sure in my hand. Predictably, like clockwork or the turning of the tides, the opening I had been waiting for came. With a resounding roar that surprised even me, I burst through the opening in the skeleton¡¯s guard and launched a Power Strike at its hand. My blow smashed the skeletal digits of its hand, and magical or not, it was still bound by the laws of physics. The khopesh flew from its grip, clanging against rock somewhere in the purple murk. I had been foolish taking on the unliving monstrosity with the edge of my blade. The undead were always more susceptible to blunt attacks. Flailing wildly at me, with weapons it no longer possessed, it did not seem so fearsome now. I took my time dismantling it, taking no small amount of joy in the process, repeatedly using Power Strike to cave in the metal. I burst through its knee with the hammer head of my weapon, disabling it for the greater part. Finally, I lifted my unstoried sword and caved in its metallic skull with a final Power Strike, the weight of my fear and hate lending strength to my blow. I was panting, my body and mind feeling like they had been through the nine circles of hell. In a state of fear-driven frenzy, I had ignored the ¡®cooldown¡¯ on Power Strike, causing it to burn through exponentially more Stamina than it would have done otherwise. Though my Stamina was prodigious¡ªmonstrously so¡ªit was not without its limits. Just as I was going through the slew of notifications that praised me for my latest triumph, I began to hear the sound of eerie clanking footsteps coming ever closer. There was no respite for the wicked. Book 2: Influence* In the tranquility of our camp, let us take heed to guard against the loquacity of certain individuals. It falls to the sagacity of their sergeants to guide them, to curb their excessive chatter. If it proves beneficial, let the threat of prolonged service in the most-humble of our duties, the digging out the latrines, be employed. Remember, idleness breeds folly. It is incumbent upon us to keep our men engaged in purposeful action, not languishing in idle pastimes like dice, nor the rough company of the women of the camp. Beware of those who cast a shadow on the minds of their comrades, disseminating disheartening thoughts in the midst of our campaign. These are they who pose the greatest threat, bringing with them the poisoned cup, veiled in the guise of a companion. They, the bearers of ill sentiment, are the true enemy within. To confront this enemy is not only our duty but our responsibility, for it is upon our resolve that the spirit of the army depends. - The Principles of Conflict by General Damien de Savant circa 234 AC. With Death on my heels, I faced another dark chapter in my life¡ªliterally. My latest triumph brought me some much-needed gain to my power.
You have learned Power Strike (lvl.4) You have learned Hammers (lvl.3) You have gained 1 Strength.
It was much appreciated, but would it be enough to overcome the new threat that I knew was approaching? Another note of worry clouded the back of my mind, I had received no notification of the metal skeleton¡¯s death and the expected reward of experience. The struggle against fighting just one Praxis Guard had been very real, and I was still panting heavily from the strain. It had not just been a physical toll¡ªmy hand still trembled from the encounter. They say that facing your fears and overcoming them makes you stronger, but I held a different view. Confronting that undead creature only reminded me of what awaited without the Grace of the despised Goddess. Looking around me, I was determined to find out just exactly what sort of place this was. Hurriedly, I turned around and went back in the general direction of where I had been initially deposited, looking for an avenue of escape. Something told me that I should be careful of my footing, and I looked down. Here the floor was mostly gravel and sand with the occasional broken tile. The air was stagnant and still, and before me was a deeper darkness, more ominous than the general gloom that pervaded the area. I felt, more than saw, that to proceed further down in this direction would spell my certain death. The deep darkness called to me, like the song of the high perilous ledge, daring me to jump. The music of the sands was strong here, wanting to drown me in its embrace. There was a real temptation to remove my helm. The feeling of claustrophobia here in the deep underground was threatening to undo the vestige of calm I had attained. I made a compromise and lifted my visor, but the overall improvement to my vision was minuscule. More precious seconds passed, the sounds of the approaching creatures growing louder, with their slow and deadly purpose. If I was to have a fighting chance, I would need more light. It was more of a miracle, really, that I had been able to fight the metal skeleton. I could only conclude that it was thanks to one of my newer skills, Blind-Fighting, that I was able to prevail under such disadvantageous conditions. Regardless of my new Skill, I really could have done with one of the flaming torches my companions had on them, I bitterly thought to myself. Inwardly chastising myself, I pushed past this extraneous line of thinking and focused on the needs of the now. Bitter regret was ever just a useless old friend, and a poor companion. My mind wracked itself looking for a solution. As I went through the list of options, which stupidly included hammering out some of the veins from the wall, a voice called to me, like a long-lost distant friend. And the solution came to me. Holy Aura. I would shine like a bright torch. Perhaps that would more easily draw their attention to me, but did these things even have real eyes? I listened, truly listened, to the quiet voice, promising salvation. Entropic Aura bellowed in disagreement, snarling like a feral beast, wanting more time upon this plane of existence. Entropic Aura had grown powerfully loud, but the voice of Holy was insistent and filled with the authority of the moment. I found myself casting the spell, the notes of purity threading their way through my voice. Light filled the room, for I could see now that it was indeed a room, and the energy of the spell lifted my spirits even as it healed my body. It was by no means as powerful as my Heal spell, but I could feel it, a constant pulse of divine energy that invigorated me. My instincts had been correct. Illuminated by my spell, I saw that the deep darkness had, in fact, led to a sharp drop. A cavernous expanse was before me, streams of sand trickling down the rock walls in an almost mesmerizing fashion. A few paces further and I would have plummeted further into the dark bowels of the earth. A fall I am sure I would not have survived. There would be no escape in that direction. Buoyed by the light of my Aura, I turned around. Such thoughts of escape were beneath me, for that was not how a hero acted, after all. Resolution¡¯s mantle settled on my shoulders to do Her will. If this was to be my end, I would face it like a man and take as many with me as I could. The paradise of Heaven awaited those who did Avaria¡¯s work. There were two exits from the room, both of them led into bored-out circular tunnels with tiled stone floors. From the left came the sound of yet new foes, the tread of their feet slapping against cold stone, and I yearned to do battle with them. These thoughts were not my own, I realized with growing horror. Insidious, they were, like herself. After all this time, was she still trying to pull my strings? Working to influence me through the very magic she had gifted me? I would not yield to the Divine whore¡¯s influence. My will, my powers, my strength - all of these were mine and mine alone. Other, darker voices chittered their agreement, as the flames of rebellion purged the foreign thoughts from my mind.
You have learned Holy Aura lvl.3
Control was restored to me. I jogged, rather than ran, to preserve my Stamina. I went down the right exit, the sound of my armor echoing loudly in my ears as I made my escape. As I continued down this path, the roughly-hewn stone gave way to smoother walls and paved floors. I took a left fork, followed by a right. This will be easy to remember, should I need to retrace my steps, I thought to myself. For several more minutes, I paused to recuperate my Stamina. My heart beat wildly in my chest, my lungs working like heavy bellows. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. There was a pervasive silence that filled the tunnel - now corridor. I waited there, as still as could be, my Stamina slowly recovering. Not wanting to simply stand there, I reviewed my Status in this little interim.
[STATUS] Calling: Gilgamesh lvl.12 Paladin/Reaver
Strength: 29 Dexterity: 25 Constitution: 41 Intelligence: 21 Wisdom: 22 Charisma: 14 Luck: 21
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.3) Power Strike (lvl.4) 10 Endure (lvl.4) Stealth (lvl.1) Rest (lvl.3) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.3) Polearms (lvl.3) Dual Wield (lvl.2) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.3) Improved Unarmed Combat (lvl.1) Hammers (lvl.3) Flails (lvl.3) Maces (lvl.3) Shields (lvl.3) Medium Armor (lvl.3) Heavy Armor (lvl.5) Axes (lvl.2) Daggers (lvl.4) Throwing Weapons (lvl.2) Double Throw (lvl.1) 5 Shield Bash (lvl.2) 10 Riding (lvl.2) Dash (lvl.1) Swords (lvl.2) Crossbows (lvl.4) Blind-Fighting (lvl.1) Rush Strike (lvl.1) Tracking (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) 5 Rust (lvl.4) 2 Identify (lvl.3) 1 Silent Casting (lvl.2) Mana Regeneration (lvl.2) Purify (lvl.2) 3 Greater Heal (lvl.2) 10 Holy Aura (lvl.3) 2 Decay (lvl.1) 1 Drain (lvl.5) 2 Entropic Aura (lvl.3) 2 Inferno Bolts (lvl.1) 2
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy -20% to all starting attributes. Mark of the Paladin 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical. Touch of the Void 10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects.
Experience to next level 192/891
Health: 258/333 Stamina: 8/68 Mana: 10/14
I was not in the best of states, but neither was I the worst. Thanks to my Aura spell, my Health was slowly ticking up, and so too was my Stamina. I had enough Mana to cast a few healing spells, but decided to refrain from such actions, and I let my heal-over-time spell do its work. As for my inventory, I had more than half of a flask¡¯s worth of water and some travel jerky. These I would have to ration out, for I had no idea how long I would be stuck here. I had lost my quiver of bolts and my shield, which limited some of my fighting options. Wherever I was, I knew for certain it was the product of civilization. The paved floor and uniformly smooth-cut walls spoke to this obvious truth. I saw what initially appeared to be a fork in the path. Thinking to throw off the pursuit, I quickly veered into it, only to find that it was, in fact, a side room. With no other options, and needing a less-exposed place to rest for a while, I decided to explore further within. Book 2: The Belly of the Beast [Part 1] The air was tumultuous, yearning for freedom from the domain of her parents, eager to explore beyond the reach of the expansive primordial oceans and the tranquil, silent night. Distressed by this, Water and Darkness endeavored to craft both a haven and guardian for their wayward daughter, aiming to keep her from the emptiness that lay in the great beyond. This they called the Earth. - The Birth of the Gesthe, by an unknown author. Bathed by the light of my golden Aura, a dance of shadow and light presented a room filled with large earthenware pots. Interesting, I mused. After a closer inspection of one of the pots, I attempted to pry its lid off, but found it stubbornly sealed. Applying more force might risk damaging this ancient artifact. I briefly considered shattering the pot to check for any hidden treasures, but my inner historian instantly vetoed that sacrilegious thought. I chose another pot at random, and this time I succeeded in opening it. Curiously, I took a cautious look inside. Inside, the pot harbored dark brown crystals closely resembling black sugar. This was a small stroke of fortune, for food would be no small boon here, but I had to be careful. I had to check for sure.
Corpse Honey
Durability 64/65
An Identify spell revealed a somewhat macabre name for the contents of the pot. Yet, despite this ominous label, I was aware that honey could endure for thousands of years, remaining perfectly edible. Moreover, if it happened to be tainted or had merely spoiled, my robust Constitution and the Purify spell in my arsenal would allow me to easily negate any repercussions. It was amusing to think that I, who once had such a delicate stomach, was now ready to consume some ancient honey discovered underground without a second thought. Sampling a small portion, I discovered that it certainly lived up to the ''honey'' part of its name, although the ''corpse'' element still had me apprehensive. It was likely named after the flower that the honey-making bees had harvested, or something along those lines, I justified to myself. Sampling another bite, I had to spit out an inedible fragment, a small chip of white. I would have to be careful not to choke when eating the honey. I then spent the subsequent twenty minutes inspecting the rest of the room, which only revealed yet more earthenware pots. Having not experienced any adverse effects from my recent risky indulgence, I concluded that it was safe for consumption. A pot itself would be too heavy to lug around with me, so I made do by wrapping some of the crystallized honey in a few leaves, and stuffing it into my pouch. I inspected the other pots, the ones I could open at least, finding them all uniformly filled with Corpse Honey. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Finding no more in the room, I retreated to the corridor to uncover more of this enigmatic place. Equipped with light, sustenance, and a reserve of Mana, and buoyed by my recent victory, I felt that I was in a reasonable state. A swift pull from my water flask brought me some relief, the precious item thankfully not lost in my recent ordeals. Still, the need for more water hung over me, an issue not yet urgent but becoming increasingly critical. The passage subtly inclined upward, a detail that kindled a tiny flame of hope within me. Could this lead me out of this dreadful place? A deep dive into my emotional state revealed neither fear nor anxiety. I wondered, could this tranquility be the result of my prolonged use of the Holy Aura spell, something I had never sustained for such a length of time before? Yet, contemplating this seemed premature, like putting the cart before the horse. For an indeterminate span of time, I trudged on, alone in a circle of light besieged by the oppressive darkness, the echo of my footsteps as my only company. The passage held no branching paths, no additional rooms, just an unending tunnel, seemingly leading to nowhere. Then, an ominous click sounded beneath my foot, followed by the grating hum of machinery. From the darkness to my left, an object collided with my pauldron, while yet another skittered across my thick cuisse. With my adrenaline surging, I quickly retreated from the suspect tile and crouched low, reducing my silhouette and covering my helm''s eyeslits with an armored gauntlet. A barrage of projectiles peppered my armor, each strike echoing in the tight confines of the passage. When the final bolt had clanged harmlessly away, silence once again descended. With my heart pounding against my ribs, I dared a cautious look around. Spent metal darts littered the floor, resembling fish spilled from nets after the morning catch. I had been a victim of a dastardly trap. Of course there would be traps here, I thought bitterly. By dint of bad luck, some of the darts had found their way through the weak points of my armor, namely the joints, cutting in shallowly through the layer of mail. A minor annoyance, and a quick glance at my Status showed that I had suffered only minor damage from the sprung trap. Nevertheless, a man could still die from a thousand cuts. A grimace twisted my face as I observed the sorry state of my robes, now reduced to tattered shreds. Frustration welled within me, prompting a muttered curse directed at the world at large. I inspected one of the darts, bringing the missile close to my face. It was a simple thing, made of wood and was the size of a large pencil, with a sharp metal tip. If I had not been so heavily-armored, the storm of darts could have done some real damage. Not serious damage, of course, considering the prodigious amount of Health points I had. I doubted that even a stab in the heart could kill me as I was. Annoyed, I threw the thing down onto the floor where it joined its brothers. Now, not only was I dealing with wandering undead revenant monsters, but now I also had to contend with devious traps. I would have to be more careful as I progressed through this dingy hell. I got down on all fours, brushing aside several darts to examine the floor more closely. Right before the ''pressure plate'' I had inadvertently stepped on, blocky ideographic script framed by stylized scorpions was inscribed upon stone. While I was hesitant to waste Mana, something compelled me to decipher its meaning. It was a curiosity I could not ignore. ¡°Step lightly, or dance eternally in my hall. Welcome to you, believers and honored guests,¡± was what my Identify spell revealed to me. ¡°The builder of this trap had a dark sense of humor, at least,¡± I said to myself, almost hissing. Such pointless drivel. Book 2: The Belly of the Beast [Part 2] Now, a new decision awaited me: did I press on and brave possibly more traps, or double back and try another route? The prudent and logical course would have been to retrace my steps and choose a different course, but a part of me wanted to find out who had been responsible for the trap. To bring them to justice for their crime against me. So, with my sword in hand and a stern resolve in my heart, I continued. My Holy Aura illuminated the path, parting the darkness with ease, yet I moved slowly at first, my recent encounter urging me to caution. I tapped each new tile with my sword, ears tuned for the telltale sound of clicking gears. However, as no new danger emerged, my caution began to fade. After taking another fifty steps, the monotony of my exploration was interrupted by the unveiling of another trap. This time, there was no stone-carved message, just a wire stretched across the passageway at shin height. I chuckled at the simplicity of its design and, in my arrogance, I merely stepped over it. But this time, there was no audible click. Instead, I felt a brief shift in the air before something hit me from behind with the force of a stampeding bull, knocking the wind out of my lungs. I coughed blood as I lay on the cool stone floor, feasting on a rare banquet of pain. Something vital inside of me had broken, and I wanted to do nothing more than curl up into a ball. The voices within, ever my companions, whispered encouragement and urged me to live. Shock threatened to overwhelm me, but somehow I found it within me to cast my basic Heal spell, giving shape to the incantation. The magic of the spell raced against the damage that threatened to undo me. For a moment it was a close thing, but Heal, bolstered by Holy Aura, won the day. Regenerating flesh strained against impacted steel. The groan of metal was followed by a popping sound. Though my cuirass still felt very tight, at least now I could breathe. The crushing pressure about my chest was now relieved. I drank deeply of the stale musty air, the heady substance of life filling my lungs. Of the thing that had struck me, there was no sign. Struggling to my feet, a hysterical sob came over me. I had faced yet another close call with my fragile mortality. Incongruously, tears of embarrassment, of all things, tracked down my face. I felt only glad that here, alone in this bleak place, there had been no one to witness my misfortune. This was the price for letting my guard down, and in turn, the vicissitudes of fate had not been kind. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. There were two new notifications that I had completely failed to register. One of which was a gain to Constitution, followed by another that grated and set a fire to my belly, dispelling my self-pity.
You have learned Trap Detection (lvl.1)
Heedless and uncaring of other things that may lay in wait in the darkness, I screamed in frustration with the full force of newly-healed lungs. I had thrown caution to the wind. Let them come. Let all of them come. Yet, none were drawn to my challenge. Not beast nor revenant, and the silence swallowed up my pathetic battle cry. With my face growing hot at my momentary lapse of control, I decided it best to put some distance between here and whatever might be coming for me. I could not discern what my new Trap skill was doing exactly. Was it a passive skill, or something I had to directly invoke? At level one, it was not something I could rely on to shield me. So, I proceeded with caution, worry hounding each of my steps. Luck must have been with me, for I encountered no new traps. Finally, after an eternity of slow plodding progress, I arrived at what I could only assume to be a large hall. Light did not diffuse naturally in this place. The golden light of my Holy Aura provided only a small sphere of illumination, stopping at a certain point and leaving the rest of the room submerged in a murky gray. Despite these conditions, I could still see that this place was lined with finely-crafted and highly-detailed statues on raised plinths. Carved from fine marble, they were of a monstrous aspect. Amalgamations of man and exotic beast, meticulously crafted with lifelike precision. Trapped, frozen forever in their own existence and horrific in their exquisite art. In stark contrast to the statues, at the end of the hall was a large crude altar. A monolith to the profane. I moved closer to the simple stone construction as if drawn by some other force. A presence that was alien, yet tantalizingly familiar, filled this foreboding place. Then all there was, all that existed, was a shouted command, demanding obedience, that reverberated through my soul. ¡°KNEEL!¡± cried a female voice filled with divine authority. My knees almost buckled at the force of the command. The dark voices rallied behind me, propping up my flagging will with their own. ¡°KNEEL! Bow down before the presence of Iasis, Mother of Monsters, Mistress of the Twisted Helix,¡± the voice intoned again, though this time I could feel its influence over me weaken. Almost imperceptibly weaken, but still, weaken nonetheless. ¡°No¡­¡± I cried hoarsely, the long-smoldering coals of rebellion turning into a hot flame. I was in the presence of a godling, and I would not accept their authority over me. Book 2: The Bargain* Our ancestors came from the sky to make their home in the stone. - Excerpt from the Lavella Tablets unearthed from the old ruins in the Beacon Mountains. ¡°Mortal priest of the whore, abase yourself before me and know your place. You would dare bring the light of another here, in my temple, and still defy me?¡± the voice answered in turn, with another question. Demand had turned into nonplussed incredulity. ¡°You will make no demands of me,¡± I said flatly in response, standing tall and straightening my shoulders. ¡°Haha. You amuse us. Die then, as a sacrifice to us here in my temple. I will even grace you with my presence as a parting gift for entertaining me so. I had forgotten how droll you mortals could be. How long has it been, I wonder?¡± the voice almost preened. A naked female figure, the voice given shape, floated out of antiquity from an intricately-detailed mosaic on the ceiling, the tiles turning blank as she formed in the real. Long black hair trailed behind her, as if caught in some unseen current. Her skin was darker than the blackest night, and she looked down at me with golden-slitted eyes. A smile that would have shamed the best of artists played about her face. I noted that she stayed out of the radius of my aura. ¡°I am Iasis, sacrifice, and know this is one of the highest of honors,¡± the goddess stated. And, I knew it to be a goddess, for she had a presence, if not appearance, that was almost a mirror to Avaria¡¯s. Unlike Avaria, I did not feel a sense of forced adulation, but rather a traitorous stirring in my loins. Seconds later, I felt repulsed in equal measure as her mouth split into four parts revealing a fanged maw that undulated as she spoke. ¡°I am no sacrifice, godling. But yours is the first presence that has a tongue to speak. Tell me, what is this place? Was it you who placed those traps?¡± I demanded. Delicate laughter was my only answer for a while, before answered. ¡°A goddess should not do a laborer¡¯s work, unlike my virginal whore of a sister Vari. My worshipers would do anything to preserve the sanctity of my temple,¡± an almost-invisibly dark eyebrow lifted in wry amusement before her face turned into an expression of consternation, ¡°Where are my priests? My worshipers? The sacrifices for this day? My children, the Guardians, I can barely hear their voices¡­¡± she questioned of me, her delicate features turning almost feral. ¡°I bear no love for Vari,¡± I stated simply, recognizing the variation of Avaria¡¯s name and seeking to divert the flow of the conversation. This was what it was to walk the razor¡¯s edge. Though I hated the gods and all that they stood for, it would do me no favors to earn the ire of one, here, where I was vulnerable. A peal of laughter resounded through the hall like the screeching of cats. ¡°You are a jester of the highest sorts. You bear the cursed light of her hollow Grace¡­ yet you speak the truth. At least, as you believe it to be. Intriguing,¡± her voice turning into one of clinical interest. Drifting on invisible wings, moving closer to me, she crossed the threshold of the light, with only the smallest of traces of a wince as she did so. Like an ethereal wisp, she danced sinuously around me, inspecting me from every angle. I yearned to reach out and touch her, but instead stood stock still. ¡°I feel it¡­ you bear one of my tokens about your person,¡± she stated quizzically before asking simply in a flat voice, ¡°Why? Like those before you, you come to this place with a wish, have you not?¡± ¡°I know not of what you speak,¡± I answered in kind, drawing a snort from the Divine. ¡°All I wish for is to leave this place in peace. I have no issue with you.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The mercurial goddess continued to circle me, and I turned my body to track her. ¡°Mortal lies. You have come here because you wish for something. And, leave so soon, fallen priest of Vari. No issue, you say,¡± she returned, her tone mimicking my own and her expression playful like a cat¡¯s. Iasis had called me a priest, and from this, I intuited that the Divines of this accursed world were, at the very least, not omniscient. That, or she could just be playing with me. A habit common to many of those in power. ¡°But I have issue with you,¡± she rebuked, her voice growing dread. ¡°You bring no offering, no votives, here, in one of the most sacred places. You have brought to me nothing but a lie. A most grievous insult.¡± ¡°Whatever shall I do with you?¡± she questioned of the air, seductive promise threaded into every syllable. I forced myself to keep up my shield of silence, fighting against feelings that were not my own. How dare these entities, that played at being gods, use me for their own amusement! Her features shifted back to a girlish and demure aspect. ¡°As always, she and her lot have taken from me. This time, I think I want that of my sister¡¯s. It is a good time to return the favor. It is, after all, only fair recompense. This will be as mud on her face! How fitting!¡± she clapped her hands together in innocent joy before fixing me a targeted look. ¡°I see why my sister has begun to withdraw her Grace from you. Flawed, even for a mortal. Your Ma''at is almost pitiful. Still, you have some of the qualities that would allow you to survive my favor. It would be most amusing, do you not think, for a fallen priest of Vari to bear one of the marks of the Mother? I think it would be fair Justice,¡± she continued, airing her ideas to the world at large. For an audience of one. She clapped her hands together with a smile, ¡°Yes! I will have you take the Test! Fail and you will be another honored sacrifice¡­ but succeed and you will receive my favor, and I will unleash you on the world to spread the joy of my creation,¡± she announced, her light tone at odds with the ominous echo that followed it. ¡°And know that I am not a fickle creature like my sister,¡± the goddess added almost whimsically. ¡°And if I refuse to take this Test?¡± I said, none too gently. This one lied as easily as it breathed¡ªif it even breathed at all. ¡°Oh, how you test me so,¡± she chimed, pleased at her own pathetic attempt at witticism. ¡°Then, I am afraid your little spark will be snuffed here. Gilgamesh.¡± I gulped, a cold sweat forming about my body at the mention of my name. Perhaps the gods knew more than I thought they did. Though I hated myself for the next words I was forced to utter, I uttered them nonetheless. ¡°Then I accept,¡± I croaked into the darkness. ¡°Then know this, unbeliever. I am the Truth of Life, of the endless struggle against the nothingness of empty existence. Of boundless change and infinite possibilities. To overcome my trial, you must overcome Life in its many aspects,¡± the Divine declared, her voice now heavy with the authority of the years. ¡°This is not going to be easy, is it?¡± I spat bitterly. She danced close to me, cupping my face with her hands, her skin smoking slightly at the touch of the light. looked at me with black orbs of deep ebon and answered in a stern voice, ¡°Life ever was meant to be a struggle. A favor given and not earned has no meaning. Has no value. Without struggle, there can be no change. Without change, there can be no growth.¡± Still dizzy from the sudden nearness of Iasis, I barely had time to register the ominous rumbling, let alone her mindless platitudes. A great, straining creak resounded as stone began to crack and splinter. Turning towards the noise, I found myself rooted to the spot in sheer disbelief. Defying all logic and reason, a statue to my left was coming to life before my disbelieving eyes. Fragments of stone tumbled off the figure like shedding scales, revealing a creature of flesh and blood beneath. Eyes that had once been nothing more than lifeless stone sparked a vibrant copper. A lion''s head shook free of its remaining stony shroud, its mane glorious. Bat wings, encased for countless centuries, unfurled in a grand gesture of newfound freedom. Instead of a tail, a second head, a serpent¡¯s head, emerged, its forked tongue flickering in the air to taste its surroundings. It was a creature from myth and legend. It was a Manticore. Book 2: Epilogue [Part 1] "There is a time for practice, and a time for tea," her father often remarked. She peered into her cup, remembering the girl that had searched for answers within the warm brown liquid. Answers that had remained elusive until this day. She idly traced the rim of the small vessel, releasing a sigh that had worn thin from years of repetition. In moments like these, she could not help but liken her past self to the delicate porcelain cup. How was it that something so inherently beautiful could also be so fragile? Each tiny vessel was a testament to an artisan''s painstaking effort over many years, an eternal snapshot of snow captured in white clay. Did she regret the path she had chosen? If she was to be honest, she did. At least, a very small part of her did. The part that harbored the ghost of her guilt. She witnessed her childhood friends, born into prestigious Shareholder families, as they strolled gracefully up and down the boulevards of the city, and felt envious of them. Like the teacups, they were attractive, part of a set. And like the teacups, they were property, their life paths decided by their elder brothers or fathers. Exchanged as tokens of power or to cement new or existing alliances. Their futures were drafted, signed, and sealed in their marriage contracts. The certainty of their happiness remained dubious, but they would enjoy a life of carefree ease. Unlike her, they were spared the severity and rigor of harsh training. But then again, that had been her choice. Then there was, of course, the horror that was childbirth. Beautiful words describing the joys of motherhood; but even with the best of healers, that joy could not be measured against the pain, the terror, and the risk. She had killed her own mother as she was forcibly spat out to take her first breath in this world. This, she knew, was what fueled the tension between herself and her brothers. She would not wish the fate of a broodmare on anyone. Her eyes drifted to a portrait of one of her ancestors, their true name lost now, but their title and deeds preserved forevermore within the collective memory of her House. Her glorious ancestor, the Shield of Hope, had been the reason that she had chosen her path. The tales of her valor were countless and were an inspiration, but it was the Shield¡¯s deeply-held beliefs that resonated within her. The tales often spoke that the Shield hailed from a land far, far away, a place beyond the stars and the rising sun. And, if the legends were true, a different world altogether. According to some of the popular accounts, the Shield had claimed that in her homeland, women were considered lesser than men, but in Gesthe, she demonstrated that they could be equal, even superior. Her legendary deeds testified to this truth, did they not? A woman could be a man¡¯s superior. The words had ignited a spark within Kanaia of House Alim that her youthful imagination had fanned into a blazing fire. It was what pushed her to train, even when the others had long retired. At first, it was simply a parent¡¯s indulgence that allowed her to practice with the males of the House. The disparity in strength and endurance seemed overwhelming at first. The boys were faster, could train for longer, and could withstand more physical punishment. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Then there was the allure of the surrender, the call of the easier path. Giving up. Oh, how simple that would have been. There would be no honor lost, her brothers told her, jokingly at first, if she just signed a marriage contract that would benefit House Alim. That was, after all, how girls upheld the honor of their House. Their jests turned more serious as time went on, and as Kanaia narrowed the gap between them. She had grown strong enough to rival her brothers, for she had read the more esoteric parts of the Shield¡¯s legend. Exchanging unwanted jewels and trinkets for scraps of knowledge, she found out that the source of the Shield¡¯s power was more than just the blessings of Mana, or the gifts that she had been born with. The Shield would offer up the lives of her foes as sacrifices to the Gods and, in turn, would be granted power. Her ancestor answered the pleas of the masses. Whether it was to clear out an old cellar teeming with mouse-like Wise Ones, or to stop a rampaging Ogre, no task was deemed too grand or too humble for the Shield to accept. In turn, she would be rewarded by the Gods with greater insight. Surely, if Kanaia followed in the Shield¡¯s example, she would reap the same rewards? So that was what she did. She helped the servants with their tasks. From cleaning plates in the kitchens, to scrubbing the floors alongside the menials, and giving water to the messengers that delivered her father¡¯s letters - she did it all. These same letters, she would occasionally open, swiftly perusing their contents before resealing them. All to learn more about the business of her House and to support her father, of course. The Steward of her House thought it unbefitting of a lady of her stature to go about doing such crude and humble work, but he was like a second father to her, and could deny her nothing. Smiling, the menials of the house all doted on her, praising her at every turn. Like the Shield, she would form her strength from the bedrock of humility. Over the course of the months, she felt herself grow stronger. Faster of mind and stronger of body. But was this just due to just natural growth and training, or was it due to her following the Shield¡¯s example? She started to hunt the animals about the estate, praying to the gods whenever she made a kill. The Desert Rockcrabs and the little Wise Ones were her prey. She barely spared a second thought when she killed the insectile Desert Rockcrabs, but she felt guilty slaughtering the little Wise Ones. Apart from their disgusting sinuous tails, they were cute in their own way. Fluffy brown things with beady eyes and soft fur, they would often find their way into the kitchen stores and were a general nuisance. In time, the animals learned not to show themselves about the grounds. Frustrated, she was forced to throw her net further afield. Under the cover of darkness, she would slip outside of the estate to kill the stray animals that wandered the streets. She felt herself growing ever stronger as the gods blessed her, but with each animal¡¯s death her heart had begun to harden, growing cold and callous. A seed born from jealousy and nourished by her need to reject a woman¡¯s lot had blossomed into a hunger for more power. She killed the animals in droves. Still, it was not enough. It would never be enough. Book 2: Epilogue [Part 2] Her worried brothers had assigned her ¡®guards,¡¯ who followed her on these little excursions. She knew what their true reasons were for giving her this escort. They were envious of her and sought out the source of her sudden rise in strength and power. But Kanaia had grown cunning and fleet of foot. With the help of the servants and her own physical prowess, escaping her new minders was child¡¯s play. She recalled one moonlit night. She would have a revelation as she ran through a narrow alleyway in search of prey. From the detritus and rubbish of the streets, a hand reached out, a frail pathetic thing that latched onto her ankle, causing her to stumble and almost fall. Grimacing, she looked down to see a gaunt face, desperation and longing in its eyes. Clad in filthy rags, it was a Dust addict. One of the invisibles of Al-Lazar society. A shudder had gone through, as she felt utter revulsion. How dare this thing even touch her! She was Kanaia of House Alim, was she not? Angrily, she had mouthed a curse to the Withered Tree as she lashed out with a kick, caving in its disgusting skull, and freeing herself from the Dust addict¡¯s clutches. Almost immediately, shock filled her at what she had done. What had she done? Had anyone seen it? Panic ran through her mind, and a thousand and one possible scenarios unfolded before her. This was followed by the most unexpected of sensations. A feeling, similar to how she felt when she secretly touched herself, coursed through her. A feeling of euphoria, causing her to shiver in delight, and causing her muscles to grow taut and strong. Once the last wave of bliss and power had left her, she fell to her knees panting. Tears of pure joy tracked down her face. This was what she was looking for. This would be the key to unlocking the true power within her. With this, she would be the next Shield of Hope. No one would miss a few Dust Addicts, would they? They were broken things, so lost in their own dreams of desire that they could not even work the Dust Fields. Useless. Like the Rockcrabs and the Wise Ones, she would be doing the city a favor by removing their ilk. Ever since that night, when she had found the key to her power, she had only grown further in strength and power, as the gods themselves blessed her actions. At first, she had felt soiled as she cleaned the streets of the dregs of society, but slowly she had learned to put aside such childish feelings. Draining the last of the tea, she realized that sacrifice was ever the burden to be born by those gifted with talent and power. A sacrifice that she had resigned herself to make. Sighing to herself, she got up to her feet and stretched. It was time for practice with the head of the House, her father. Out of all of her siblings, she had shown the most promise, and thus had received special attention and training. She would crown herself in glory at the next Saint¡¯s, the competition that would decide the city¡¯s strongest. It would be her, and not one of her pathetic brothers, who would represent House Alim for Arbitration. She nodded to one of the servants as she entered the Haql Tajriba, the training ground of her house. The servant anointed her with sacred oils, running a finger across her forehead before she bowed and took her leave, and closed the sliding door. Her father was still deep in meditation on the hard-packed clay floor of the Haql Tajriba. As was his habit, he used no mat, saying that it made him closer to the element of the earth. His face looked still and untroubled to the average onlooker, but she knew well the tautness about his eyes that made his serenity a lie. Even now, she knew she was being observed as she went through the basic Raks Qowa, the body conditioning forms that she had mastered long ago, when her peers had been learning how to sew. Her body took over, allowing her mind to formulate a strategy to defeat her father this day. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Good. Your form is passable and your Ma¡¯at is strong. That is good. I only wish that you had been born with a dangle and not a cleft, then I would not be so worried for the future of our House. Come, it is time,¡± her father pronounced as she finished the last segment of her form. There was no time for her usual bitter response, for without warning, her father¡¯s swift blow came. She had seen the attack coming, but seeing and being able to move her body in time were almost two different things, and she was barely able to put up a defense. However, she would offer no excuse. No claim of unfairness. Such things had already been beaten out of her. What came next was an adrenaline-fueled exchange as blows were traded. Attacks, blocks, counters, and feints melded together, as she was forced to adapt to the storm that came upon her. She lashed out with a low kick, making it look like she wanted to buy herself some time or to create some space between them, setting herself up for an orthodox attack. Her father easily saw through her ruse, stepping into her inner circle and launching an attack that, from this distance, she could not divert. The young girl took it full on, absorbing the blow with a hard block, stopping the hammer blow in its tracks using her raw strength. For a moment she imagined that she saw a flicker of surprise in her father¡¯s eyes before the two resumed their deadly dance. She would surprise him more as she launched a counter-offensive. Using the Willow Weeps followed by Iron Anvil, she blended the soft and hard forms of her House¡¯s ancient art into something unique. Against an opponent such as her father, simple mimicry of the techniques that he had taught her would not be enough. She adapted the forms to her body, creating something new that did not simply bludgeon, but something that also cut. Old and new came together, blended by a strong will. She did more than match her father¡¯s strength, she exceeded it. What she lacked in reach, she more than made up for in youth, and raw lightning speed. Kanaia launched herself into an almost-perfect combination of blows that would have made her ancestor proud. Almost perfect, save for one opening, an opening she knew her father would never take. If he placed any importance on her House¡¯s future or had even the smallest scrap of affection for her. It was a gamble that she was more than willing to take. For a split second, she sensed a dark moment come. An ugly thing that emanated from the soon-to-be defeated man. Thankfully, her father did not give into his baser emotions, and moments later the killing intent left his eyes. Glad that the threat had passed, the rest was relatively simple as she went through the preordained sequence that would spell his defeat. She ended the competition with a knife-hand at his throat. ¡°I yield,¡± her father stated flatly, a mixture of emotions playing about his face. Anger, surprise, and injured male pride. He had expected this day to come, if not so soon. As he had learned from his own father, eventually youth would always catch up to, then outrun, the lead that age and hard-won experience gave. Still, It was a bitter pill to swallow. And to be beaten by a mere slip of a girl, his own daughter, doubly so. ¡°You had given me the perfect position. Had I used the Blow that Shatters, you would be dead,¡± he added, looking to save face. ¡°Perhaps. But I knew you would not. I will use whatever it takes to win. Even a father¡¯s affection. That is what is important, is it not? Besides, I doubt your Blow that Shatters would have been enough. I am not made of the river¡¯s reeds,¡± she countered, looking down at her defeated foe. Had he always been this small? He had seen so much bigger before. ¡°Duty and sacrifice are the words of House Alim.¡± The man before her blurted out the ritual words, with none of the solemnity they deserved. She almost felt pity for him. ¡°And I will sacrifice anything in the name of honoring those words. For House Alim is the Shield of Lazar. I will hold you to your honor, father. It will be I that will compete at the Saint¡¯s. And it will be me, and only me, that will represent our House,¡± she replied coldly, her voice hollow, yet at the same time filled with the echo of divine purpose. The man could only nod and stare dumbly at the monster he had raised. Book 2: Glossary & Dramatis Personae Glossary & Dramatis Personae Abas Yar - An old man and Beastmaster of the Ravens. Gilgamesh cures Abas Yar¡¯s bad back, which also restores him to good health, causing the Beastmaster to venerate Gilgamesh. Abdul - A guard that dies in Tarkan¡¯s attack on the caravan. Gilgamesh tries, and fails, to resurrect his corpse. Ables - The driver of Gilgamesh¡¯s wagon. [The] Adventurer¡¯s Guild - An organization specializing in slaying monsters, gathering rare and precious materials, conquering dungeons and protecting the weak. They are rivals of the Mercenary Guild. Aizere Ulgen - Twin sister of Erasyl and daughter of Ankhset. She is a Water Seeker apprentice. Alik Al¡¯Kabar - A guard in the Ravens and Gilgamesh¡¯s riding instructor. Al-Lazar - The fabled City of the Dust. Gilgamesh is tasked with escorting Larynda there. Amon Vanes - A mage priest of the Church of Avaria. He was sent by Cardinal Mauros to capture Gilgamesh. Ankhset Ulgen - An old woman and Water Mage, or Water Seeker, of the Ravens. She is the mother of Aizere and Erasyl. She gifts Larynda with a scroll of Water Ball and begins instructing her in the path of Water. Ansan - Seat of power for the Children of the Tides. The city of tents is built around an ancient Ark made of mystical living Witchwood. It is a nexus of trade. Arag - A strong alcoholic beverage made from fermented mare¡¯s milk. Arimea Lostariot - Wood elf and Spellsinger. Driven by an ancient prophecy, she leads a group in search of Hamsa¡¯s adopted daughter, Larynda. Aranthia - A kingdom far to the west of Ansan and the Grass Sea. Home of Cordelia. Asixum - The name of the plant whose pollen is commonly called ¡®Dust¡¯, a highly narcotic substance. Avaria - Goddess of Justice. Known in the North as ¡®Vari, Chooser of the Slain¡¯. She is often symbolized wielding the Sword of Justice and the Knife of Mercy. [The] Beacon Mountains - Home of Durhit. It is an active volcano range where the Lavella tablets were unearthed. Beron de Laney - Author of ¡®The Fanciful Travels¡¯, an account of his travels and adventures across the world of Gesthe. Blessings - A popular card game. Gilgamesh plays this game with the goal of increasing his Luck Attribute. Broomshead - A mushroom that has vague resemblance to the head of a broom. Gilgamesh is charged by Hamsa the Alchemist to acquire some Broomshead from the Sainba forest in exchange for a discount at his store. Bulls of Heaven - A criminal organization. [The] Call - The seductive pull of magic that makes a practitioner wish to become one of his element. As a user of magic grows in power, so too does the call. This almost always leads to their death. Catalina - Mother of Dumuzi. Her husband was killed defending the caravan from an attack by a group of raiders led by Tarkhan Aigiam. Nearly fatally wounded in the same attack, she is healed by Gilgamesh and eventually becomes his lover. Caution Stone - A red colored stone used to warn the caravan of Sandgorgers. Cillis Aideh - Smith of the Soot-Stained Pig. Supplies Gilgamesh and his companions with a new set of armor and equipment. Trains Gilgamesh in the use of flails. Charisma - The attribute that governs how one can interact effectively with others. It includes confidence, eloquence, general charm, and/or simply the force of one¡¯s personality. [The] Children of the Tides - Formerly a maritime people. Now they are a semi-nomadic race of people that live upon the Grass Sea. Their seat of power is the great city of Ansan. Church of Her Divine Radiance - The religious organization that venerates Avaria, Goddess of Justice. Constitution - This attribute encompasses a character''s physique, toughness, general health and resistance to disease and poisons. It also determines the number of potions one can consume without ill effect. The Constitution attribute greatly affects both Stamina and Health. Contest of Saints - An ancient martial arts tournament. Also known as the Festival of the Undrawn. [The] Control - The common colloquial term for the use of magic. Cordelia de Aserac - Temple Knight of the Order of the Penitent Heart. She was chosen to be part of the mission to capture Gilgamesh, as her father¡¯s lands bordered the Grass Sea. She swears fealty to Gilgamesh as the herald of Avaria and devotes herself to him. She wields the magical longsword ¡®The Weight of Justice¡¯. Corpse Honey - A suspicious foodstuff that Gilgamesh finds underground. [The] Crows - A trade caravan led by Gelgor Badawi. They agree to join with the Ravens to travel together to Al-Lazar. Cureall - A miraculous drug made from aged Moonblossoms. They are said to be capable of curing most poisons, whether they be mundane or magical. Laes gives Gilgamesh a vial of the remedy. Damien de Savant - A general and author of the ¡®The Principles of Conflict¡¯. Darcen Tsend - Guildmaster of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild branch in Ansan. Reputedly has the ability to detect lies. Degei Ganbataar - Slave Overseer of the Slave Pits of Ansan. Disciplines and tortures Gilgamesh after he kills another slave. Dexterity - This attribute is a reflection of a number of physical abilities including hand-eye coordination, agility, reflexes, fine motor skills, balance, and speed of movement. Dexterity also moderately affects maximum Stamina. Dezra - Larynda¡¯s childhood friend who died due to an illness. Her pitiful death drives Larynda to improve her living conditions. Dullstown - Far to the West of the Grass Sea and the Whispering Wastes. Not a single person from Dullstown has ever been able to use magic. Dumuzi Kalkassin - Catalina¡¯s son. Gilgamesh uses him as target practice to improve his own marksmanship. Durhit Coal - A dwarf from the Beacon Mountains. He became a slave in Ansan, as his sister Evenes was unable to pay his war ransom. He is slain by a chameleonic variant of the Echo-Stalker. Dust - A dangerous narcotic substance, also known as Faerie Powder, Stardust, and the Call of Oblivion, among many others. The drug is the pollen of the Asixum plant that grows only upon the shoreline near the city of Al-Lazar. In small quantities, it can improve the health and mental faculties of its users, but can grow to be extremely addictive. The most interesting property of the drug is that it allows the user to experience lucid dreams. It is the source of power and wealth for the city-state of Al-Lazar. Elwin Tucker - Gilgamesh meets Elwin in the slave pits of Ansan. He professed to be a Forester, but is, in fact, a Rogue. He leaves the group before Gilgamesh journeys with Laes, ostensibly to try and reunite with his family. Elwin is captured and caught by the agents of the Church. He is reunited with Gilgamesh after Tarkan¡¯s failed raid. Once was known by the moniker ¡®The Luck¡¯ when he was associated with the Bulls of Heaven. Elves - A long-lived humanoid species whose origin is shrouded in mystery. The elves refer to themselves as the ¡®The First Children¡¯. They are allies of the Fae. There are several varieties of elves. Entropy - The heat death of the universe and the end of all things. Erasyl Ulgen - Brother and twin of Aizere. He is an apprentice Water Mage. Fae - A mysterious race that lives in the place between worlds. In times long ago they provided the elves with precious Witchwood to build their great ships. Fen Vaigorus - Author of the ¡®The Living Sword¡¯. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Garven - Armorer and smith in the Company of the Ravens. Gelgor Badawi - Caravan leader of the Company of the Crows. He is a very fat man and seems to enjoy a friendly relationship with Laes. Gideon de Salavia - Author of the ¡®On the Prophecy of the Gods¡¯ and the ¡®The Human Question¡¯. [The] Grass Sea - The domain of the Children of the Tides. Travel across this vast expanse of grass is difficult, as a Water Mage is required to conjure drinking water. [The] Green Road - Known also as the Samasutum, it is an unnaturally straight river that only appears after the Weeping. The Green Road cuts through a harsh desert known as the Whispering Wastes. Gryphon - A flying creature originally native to the Misery¡¯s Reach mountain range. They have been domesticated and serve as flying mounts for people who can satiate the Gryphon¡¯s ravenous appetites. Guardians - Great worms that inhabit the Whispering Wastes. Also known as Sand Fathers and Hul Abba, to the Elves. Hamsa - He was an Alchemist in the city of Ansan. However, meeting with Gilgamesh had awoken ancient memories within him making him realize that he is in fact, the Hero. He sends his adopted daughter, Larynda, with Gilgamesh to the city of Al-Lazar. Happyfeet - A large harmless creature resembling the gigantic prehistoric millipedes of Earth. [The] Hero - The Hero was the ancient guardian of humanity who was born time and time again, with his memories intact, to combat the threats to mankind. Hwanda Heveni - The Sum of all Men, in the Elvish language. It refers to the Hero, the ancient Guardian of humanity who had the power to challenge the dragons themselves. Iasis - Goddess. She is known through much of the known world as the Mother of Monsters. Iron Quarter - A mysterious place where Alik lost his taste for the adventurer¡¯s life. Intelligence - The attribute that measures mental acuity, the accuracy of recall, and the ability to reason. It significantly affects maximum Mana capacity. Jasper - Khalam¡¯s second in command. Jongshoi Aigiam - A boy that Gilgamesh is forced to kill in the Winnowing. Kaes-Loka - The god of Hearth and herd. Waveriders of the children of the tides make great offerings in his name before they are allowed to select a mount from his herd. Karilla - A large lizard that closely resembles a Dimetrodon. Khalam - The Guard Master of the Ravens. Kidu Kreshin - A man of giant proportions. He is a peerless warrior and Hunter of the Three Bears clan from the far North, or the Kar-Kaphon. He is a loyal companion of our protagonist. Gilgamesh encounters Kidu in the slave pits of Ansan. K.D. Fidditch - Author of ¡®Monsters of the Mortal Realms¡¯. Lady Aeleyah - A lady of House Salahaem. Laes Harevor - Leader of the Ravens, the caravan that is taking Gilgamesh to the city of Al-Lazar. He is a friend of Gelgor, the leader of another trade caravan, the Crows. Lanarisa - An elven adventurer in Ansan. She is currently one of the highest ranking members of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Larynda - A small half-elven girl and Hamsa¡¯s adopted daughter. She is innately gifted with the magic of Chaos and learns how to control the element of water from Ankhset. Likam - An old guard in the Ravens. [The] Living Sword - A treatise on how a warrior should train in the use of a sword, and a commentary on martial arts in general. Written by Fen Vaigorus. Lorsan - An elven swordmaster who bears a mantis-marked blade. Lotus Palm - An ancient open-handed technique that is able to transmit the force of an unarmed blow through armor to cause internal damage. Ma¡¯at - Meaning path, way, or fate in the local language. It has a close meaning to the word Dao from Chinese Taoism. Mana - The source of all magic in the world of Gesthe. Mantis Mark - The sign of one that is truly accomplished in the way of the sword. It is the sign of a sword master. Manzaza Shiptu - A magical scroll. Mauros - A cardinal in the Church of Avaria. He is jealous of Avaria¡¯s Champion, Gilgamesh, as he himself had not been chosen. [The] Mer - The people of the sea. They have been at war with the city of Al-Lazal for generations. Mistevan - Knight-Sergeant of the Church. He had direct orders from Cardinal Mauros to capture Avaria¡¯s Champion, Gilgamesh. Mithril - Godmetal or Saint¡¯s Silver. Extremely rare, it is a near mystical metal with almost magical properties. Moon Moss - An alchemical substance that Gilgamesh must harvest in the Sainba forest for the Adventurer¡¯s guild. Mouse - Gilgamesh¡¯s borrowed mount. Naspu Surahu - The Forest of Crystal. This is the devastating spell that Larynda uses when Tarkan attacks the caravan. [The] North - A vast expanse of ice and tundra. Also known as the Kar-Kaphon. Pakum - An adolescent boy and nephew of Abas Yar. He is sent with Gilgamesh to look after the Xaruar that Kidu rides on their excursion to kill more Sandgorgers. Patches - The large donkey that Gilgamesh saves from the butcher¡¯s block in Ansan. She is now his favored pet. Payana Leaf - A plant with minor medicinal properties that the caravan people use to keep their teeth clean. Praxis Guard - An ancient undead revenant. Its bones have been coated with metal. [The] Ravens - A traveling people. Their livelihood revolves around trade. Gilgamesh travels with them to get to cross the Whispering Wastes to reach the city of Al-Lazar. They are led by Laes Harevor. Raza - A young guard in the Ravens. River Lurkers - A crocodilian creature with six legs. River Root - One of the herbs that Gilgamesh has to collect for the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. [The] Rump - A group of hills where the Ravens and Crows sought shelter from the Weeping. Sahel - The name of the star that serves as Gesthe¡¯s sun. Sainba - A large ancient forest, filled with gigantic trees. Sandgorger - A large monstrous three-eyed frog found in the Whispering Wastes. Sasan - A fruit native to the Sainba forest. Seals - A sort of magical aid for apprentice mages to cast simple spells. They simplify the spellcasting and are used up in the casting process. Larynda uses a seal to unleash the devastating spell Naspu Surahu, the Forest of Crystal, when Tarkan attacks the caravan. Sepfan - One of Larynda¡¯s childhood friends. [The] Shallow River - The river symbolizing death. Snap-Honey - A carnivorous plant resembling a gigantic venus flytrap. Spotted Uakari - A type of canid. Strength - The Strength attribute is a measure of muscle strength, endurance, and stamina combined. Strength moderately affects Stamina and to a much lesser degree, maximum Health. Sukhbat - A guard in the caravan of the Ravens. He is the childhood friend of Tomorbat. Tarkhan Aigiam - A young man eager for blood and glory, who led a disastrous attack on the Ravens. He is slain by Gilgamesh. Timekeeper Knot - A poisoned silken strand. In times past, taking up a Timekeeper Know was a solemn vow and commitment to deliver an important message to its intended recipient. If a bearer of the Timekeeper Knot does not fulfill his charge on time, the poison of the Knot will kill them. Timur - A guard in the caravan of the Ravens. Tomorbat - A guard in the caravan of the Ravens. He is the childhood friend of Sukhbat. Trade - The lingua franca, or common language, of the Grieving Lands. Vari - Another name for Avaria in the North. Vlan di Panoli - A playwright. Vow-poison - The deadly contact poison that is laced through a Timekeeper Knot. Water Calling - A duty given to the Water Seeker¡¯s to provide water for the caravan. Water Mage - A mage who can manipulate the element of water. [The] Weeping - The seasonal rains that fall on the Grass Sea of the Grieving Lands. From these rains, the Green Road is born. [The] Weight of Justice - A magical longsword wielded by Cordelia de Aserac. Also known as the Blind Executioner. It has the power to be light as a feather. However, downward strikes are inordinately powerful. Whispermews - A rodent resembling a cross between a ground squirrel and a lemming. Driven out of their homes by the rains of ¡®The Weeping¡¯, a ¡®horde¡¯ of Whispermews run amok in Gilgamesh¡¯s wagon. He kills them all, except for one creature, which he gives to Larynda to take care of as a pet. [The] Whispering Wastes - A large desert also known as the Sim Edin. Home to the Guardians. Windspeaker - A mage, in the nomenclature of the North Wisdom - The attribute that governs willpower, common sense, perception, and intuition. It moderately affects maximum Mana and Mana regeneration. Wood Elves - Musenvane, or the First Children. They are a near mythical race and also known as the Warders of the Woods. Xaruar - A large, six-legged proto-dragon that resembles the Ankylosaur of Earth¡¯s primordial past. They are used as pack animals. Zarzar Leaf Tea - A beverage used to help one sleep. Zajasite - Glowing crystals that are mined from the earth. Book 3: Of What Has Gone Before...* Tasked by the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, and Hamsa the Alchemist, to gather some herbs, Gilgamesh ventures forth with his companions to the primordial Sainba forest. There, he fights, and overcomes, a mighty Karilla and a score of crocodilian River Lurkers. Returning to Hamsa with the herbs, the Alchemist entreats Gilgamesh to take his adopted half-elven daughter, Larynda, to the faraway city of Al-Lazar. Gilgamesh reluctantly agrees, and with Larynda in tow, they join up with a caravan led by a certain Laes Harevor. However, Elwin, judging that Al-Lazar is simply too far away from his family, leaves Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh questions Hamsa about a possible Alchemical solution to achieve immortality. Hamsa hints that such an alchemic solution could be found in Al-Lazar or at the University of Quas. Gilgamesh next negotiates with Laes to be employed as a temporary guard for the duration of the journey. Under the caravan master¡¯s wing, Gilgamesh and company are finally able to escape the city of Ansan. Just after they leave the city, Hamsa is attacked in Ansan by a mysterious group of elves led by Lady Arimea. When he refuses to tell them where Larynda has gone, Lorsan, an elven Swordmaster, is commanded to cut the Alchemist down for his insolence. But Hamsa is no mere Alchemist, rather, he is the Hero, a gestalt being reincarnated countless times to serve humanity in its most dire hours. The Hero was able to cut down most of the elves, but was struck from behind by an ice spell cast by Lady Arimea, ending his life. The caravan continues the first stage of its journey across the Grass Sea, an endless verdant plain of flowing grass. Despite being green, water is scarce here, meaning that a Water Mage is required to provide water for groups crossing its viridian expanse. They are intercepted by a group of Tides horsemen and the militant wing of the Church of Avaria, who are looking for Gilgamesh. Among this group is the Temple Knight Cordelia, a mighty warrior wielding the magical sword The Weight of Justice. Fearing that Laes would betray them, Gilgamesh forces the issue, commanding the Hunter Kidu to let loose an arrow. Things devolve into a general melee. Larynda, wishing to turn the tide of battle, uses Chaos magic to unleash a deadly forest of crystal spears. This kills many of their enemies, but leaves the girl mage exposed to enemy bow arrows. In a heroic act, Kidu shields the girl with his own body but is grievously wounded. Gilgamesh rushes over to save his friend and casts a Greater Heal and Holy Aura in combination. Cordelia, witnessing the holy light of the combined spells, believes that Gilgamesh is the Herald, Avaria¡¯s chosen. She tries to stop the ongoing conflict but is declared a traitor by the other members of the Church detachment. Her faith tested, Cordelia is forced to fight against them. When the fighting is done, the Ravens, the name of the caravan group that Laes leads, is victorious. Cordelia surrenders herself to the Ravens and, after some negotiation, is accepted as a member of Gilgamesh¡¯s entourage and swears loyalty to him. They are also reunited with Elwin Tucker, the Rogue who had been taken prisoner by the Tides and the Church. The Rogue is missing a hand and Gilgamesh, in an act of defiance against the people calling for Elwin¡¯s death, restores his hand with magic. This makes Elwin swear loyalty to Gilgamesh. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. He also heals some people of the critically injured Ravens with his magic. It is a show of raw power that garners the respect of many of the caravan. Gilgamesh attempts to revive a man dead man with Greater Heal. It fails and Gilgamesh is reminded of his mortality and gains new resolve to pursue his mission to achieve eternal life. Gilgamesh receives a full plate harness as battle spoils and is gifted a Sword-Hammer from Khalam, the leader of the caravan guards, for saving the life of his son Ubaid. The Sword-hammer is a hybrid weapon which can be used as either a sword or hammer, depending on how it is held. They are next invited to the wagon of Ankhset, the Water Mage of the caravan. After much discussion, she persuades Gilgamesh that Larynda should learn how to use Water magic as an alternative to the dangerous and unpredictable Chaos magic she already commands. She gifts Larynda with a magical scroll that imparts upon her the first spell of Water and starts to instruct her in the mysteries of her element. Later, they meet up with another caravan group, the Crows. Their leader, Gelgor, convinces Laes that they should travel together. Gilgamesh also, through Laes, purchases a self-cocking crossbow of excellent quality from the leader of the Crows. They continue their journey, reaching the Rump, a group of low hills close to the desert of the Whispering Wastes, and the caravan sets up camp on high ground to take shelter from the Weeping. The Weeping is a time of torrential rain in the Grass Sea. This rainfall is responsible for creating the Green Road, a river that runs perfectly straight, with neither bend nor turn, all the way to their destination, the city of Al-Lazar. Ankhset casts a great shielding spell over the caravan, protecting them from the worst of the torrential deluge of rain. The caravan is forced to wait for a long time until the rains stop. During this time, the people of the caravan spend their time in preparation for the next leg of the journey and festivities. During a dance, Gilgamesh is invited back to the wagon of a woman called Catalina and they start a relationship. She has lost her husband and is now a widow. She is also a woman that he saved with his magic. She and her son Dumuzi are very thankful to Gilgamesh. While waiting for the rains to end, Gilgamesh spends his time training. Cruelly, he uses Dumuzi, paying him a pittance to be a moving target for Gilgamesh to train his ranged skills. It even allows him to learn a new skill, Blind Fighting. Catalina is understandably shocked by this, but her current situation does not allow her to forbid it. Gilgamesh is visited by dark dream that warns him of his mortality. Desperate he asks for information for legends or tales of people who were able to escape death from the people of the caravan. He learns from Cordelia that those blessed with the Grace can put off a natural death at the price of serving a Divine. A horde of rodents ¡®attack¡¯ Gilgamesh and his companions in their wagon. These are Whispermews, six-legged mouse-like creatures that are fleeing the floods brought about by the heavy rain. Gilgamesh kills many of their number but saves a survivor as a gift for Larynda. Larynda names her new pet Bubbles. Eventually the Weeping ends, and the caravan begins their journey along the Green Road into the desert of the Whispering Wastes. Fed by the rainwater of the Weeping, the area along the banks of the Green Road blooms in a riot of vegetation. Initially, the journey is smooth until the caravan reaches an area inhabited by Sandgorgers, three-eyed frogs that inhabit the desert. Gilgamesh, along with his companions and guards, roam ahead of the caravan to dispatch these threats to the caravan. While they are fighting the Sandgorgers, they are attacked by a Guardian, a giant worm of the deep desert. Gilgamesh is separated from his companions and dragged down in the worm''s wake to a dark place beneath the sands. There, he encounters and defeats undead skeletal warriors, their bones coated with ancient metals. Their undead forms remind him of his own eventual mortality. He is forced to brave the labyrinthian maze of underground tunnels and caves until he stumbles into the heart of the dark dungeon. It is a long-forgotten temple dedicated to the fell goddess Iasis, the Mother of Monsters. There is is confronted by the goddess who thinks him a chosen of Avaria. She insinuates that her sister Avaria is withdrawing her Grace from him. Now, he must face his next trial¡­ Book 3: Defiance [Part 1] Anything, when meticulously crafted and refined for a single, specific purpose, free from all unnecessary trappings and features, embodies a form that is pure and captivating. Like the most elegant of instruments, or the most elegant of weapons - their intrinsic beauty lies in their purity of purpose. In this, the human heart can not help but be enamored. But when we ponder the nature of such beauty, an ethical question arises. If the thing is fashioned for a purpose that falls within the realm of the malevolent or the unethical, should we still regard it as beautiful? It is one of the foibles of man that we are often attracted towards the aesthetics of perfection, even when it is directed towards an objectionable end. - The Principles of Conflict by General Damien de Savant circa 234 AC. A thing from myth and legend fixed its gaze on me, its slitted eyes emanated a primordial light and were mesmerizing in their ferocious beauty. The Manticore unfurled its leathery bat wings, shaking off the last of the stone dust before giving out a thunderous roar that echoed throughout the temple. I was momentarily stunned by the sheer force of the sound as it reverberated through my very core, causing my bones to tremble in response. The monster lashed out with its lion¡¯s paw, its sharp claws screeching against the metal of my cuirass and knocking me off my feet. As the world spun around me, a burst of adrenaline flooded my system. Time seemed to slow down as I rolled to evade a liquid projectile hurtling through the air, taking cover behind one of the lifelike statues. The gob of whatever it was sizzled upon contact with the stone floor where I had been, just scant moments before. The creature possessed the ability to spit acid, or something equally deadly. The temple resounded with laughter, a mocking echo that seemed to pierce through to my soul. It was the laughter of the godling, taunting me mercilessly. It launched another attack, pouncing at me, which by some miracle, I dodged by half-rolling out of the way. I even managed to score a glancing hit with the blade of my weapon, but that was turned, for the most part, by its thick hide. "You''ll need to do much better than that. Struggling against such a juvenile creature, and this is only the beginning of your trials," Iasis, the Mother of Monsters, warned playfully, placing a delicate, clawed finger to her lips. It was circling me, its prey. I was the only focus of its leonine and serpentine eyes, all four filled with equal menace. I kept the statue, a brutish Minotaur, between me and the monster. Dwarfing the largest of draft horses, it was of a fearsome size. But what truly unsettled me was seeing the alien hunger in those malevolent orbs. The primal part of me screamed that I should just run away. Fear, however, could give birth to more than cowardly flight. From fear could come rage. And from rage a serene form of clarity. Seeking to cut out the root of the problem, I slashed at the goddess, the blade of my weapon passing through her form like so much smoke. This only caused her to erupt in new peals of laughter. Tsk-tsking in annoyance, I realized that there would be no choice but to play her game. I focused on the task at hand and cast my investigative spell, Identify. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Juvenile Manticore - [Chimerae lvl.12]
Health: 402/402 Stamina: 74/75 Mana: 7/7
Seeing something broken down into visible numbers soothed the part of me that feared the unknown. The monster before me, though no doubt a being of a fantastical nature, had Health, Stamina, and Mana. They were high numbers to be sure, but not totally out of reach. With my powers, given enough time, I could kill even this mighty creature. A quick glance at my Status caused a small grin to steal across my face.
Health: 328/336 Stamina: 64/68 Mana: 9/14
Thanks to my heavy armor, the Manticore¡¯s last attack only caused eight points of damage, a drop in the ocean. Even as I registered this, my Holy Aura was already starting to undo this minor damage. If I played this correctly, my victory would almost be certain. The only thing I had to worry about was its acid attack. Worriedly, I noticed the stone was still sizzling from the caustic liquid of its missed attack. Almost as if sensing my thoughts, the snake head opened its mouth wide and spat a large gob of acid. The burning liquid missed me, splashing against the Minotaur statue between us. The acid ate into the living stone, causing Iasis to float closer. Her movement drew my eye, and although she hid it well, I saw a flash of anger cross the features of the dark goddess. So that¡¯s what it was, I thought to myself with a grim smile. These statues were of some importance to her. That could be leveraged. It was time to make this trial, divine test, or whatever this was meant to be, a little easier. I gave a challenging roar of my own, hoping to anger it even further, and forcing it to put aside whatever low cunning it possessed. In response, it simply offered up another bestial cry, and we continued our little game of Ring Around the Rosey. I started to cast an old staple of mine, Drain, upon the monster. Forming the spell structure in my mind had become almost second nature, but for some mysterious reason there was a resistance, an obstruction to the spell. Nevertheless, I continued to push more Mana into the spell and the familiar black lines of ebon came into being. They formed a link between me and the mythical creature, and a flood of heady energy filled me. A flavor I had been without for too long, the very taste of life, distilled in its purest form. Between raw human cunning and the insidious power of Drain, it was just a matter of time before the thing died. Unlike the Karilla, a large fearsome lizard beast that I had defeated in the Sainba, the Manticore sensed the link between us and stormed towards me. The monster¡¯s feral charge was a hurricane of scale, tooth, and claw that smashed into the statue between us, toppling the sculpture over with a crash. My timing was perfect, for I had moved out of its path just before the monster crashed through the stone, and I took shelter behind yet another statue. The silence of the goddess¡¯ laughter was all the confirmation I needed to know that my ploy was working. Like the action games of the old world, this would be a battle of patience and attrition where I used the enemy to damage objects in the environment in the hopes of unlocking the next stage. I just needed to repeat this. My goal was to wear it out and, at the same time, potentially destroy future opponents that could be born from the stone. Book 3: Defiance [Part 2]* Enraged, the Manticore fixed its baleful eyes at me, the serpent¡¯s head hissing with new malice. More gobs of stone-eating liquid flew my way, but, as always, I made sure to keep behind a statue. Again the creature charged, knocking over yet another statue and hurting itself in the process, to boot. I was hit by a concussive fragment of stone, which took out a chunk of my Health. But my Drain spell was still eating away at its very life force, and this stolen vitality was recovering my Health. The creature shook itself from its latest failure. At this rate, the creature¡¯s end, like all things that bled and died, was inevitable. Iasis knew of this truth. ¡°Enough! Very well, you pass this stage of the trial!¡± cried the goddess, her words an imperious command. She clapped slowly at my success, grudgingly even, and the Manticore mysteriously faded into the silken shadows. The midnight lines of the Drain spell that joined me to the monster suddenly snapped, as if cut by an invisible blade. Doubting her words, for this stage of this so-called trial had been surprisingly easy to overcome, I narrowed my eyes, looking toward where the monster had vanished before a new script filled my inner sight.
You have completed a Divine Ordeal.
You have gained 200 experience.
Perhaps the godling was telling the truth, but what she said next was as from relief as mirage was to the true water of an oasis. A mischievous expression played about her face before she announced, ¡°Very well done. Indeed, I did not expect one of my sister¡¯s own to actually use their little brain. It¡¯s always purge the unclean, burn this, and burn that¡­¡± she played with her hair, twirling it in her fingers before she smiled at me. ¡°But have you the mettle to complete my next Test, I wonder?¡± she broke off laughing, a melodious tinkle that irked me to no end. The Manticore had been objectively dangerous, but not something I could not have overcome with a strong arm and a sharp wit. Indeed, a part of me was disappointed that I had not been given a chance to finish the thing off. I had suffered minimal damage and had even absorbed two points of Mana from my exchange with the winged terror. Wings that it had, thankfully, never gotten to utilize, for had we fought where it could have used the advantage of flight, the outcome may well have been very different. The crack of stone splitting shook me from this line of thinking, and drew me back to the task at hand. The sacred task of defying the Goddess and surviving this damnable trial. The hall shook as the sound of worn gears and ancient machinery filled the stale air. All except two of the remaining statues sank into the floor, as if being absorbed by quicksand. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. From one of the remaining statues, a new threat presented itself. A threat that positively towered, reaching almost as high as the ceiling. A hulking metal faceless thing that was shaped in the vague approximation of a gigantic man, but with sharp lines and oblique angles. No bestial roar came, for the construct had no mouth to scream its challenge. There was only the screech of ancient pitted iron as the unnatural abomination stood upon thick pillars that could be construed to be its legs. Fear and shock had long left me now, just a dull weariness remained that hid a smoldering ember of hate. I just wanted to get this over and done with, and I spent a precious point of Mana to measure the new threat.
Iron Golem - [Automata lvl.12]
Health: 1059/1059 Stamina: - -/ - - Mana: - -/ - -
Like the undead Praxis Guard I had encountered before, the Iron Golem had neither Stamina nor Mana points. At a guess, this probably meant that it did not rely on Stamina for its basic locomotion. The lack of a Mana points, I intuited, meant that it possessed no will or consciousness of its own, not unlike a pre-programmed machine. It did, however, still have a prodigious amount of Health that completely overshadowed my own, and since it was a metal construct, I doubted my Drain spell would work upon it. ¡°One of the finer creations of one of my own creations. The old Gnomes always had a way with their inspirations. You will not defeat the Giant of Iron by running around like a little mouse,¡± Iasis chortled playfully, her voice coming from somewhere behind me, tempting me to look back. I resisted the urge to turn in her direction. An indistinct yearning slowly emerged from within the deep recesses of my mind, crystallizing into a nearly palpable thought of a deeper hunger. A burning need to reduce this lump of metal into molten slag. Rust, and its need to consume the banquet before it. It had consistently eluded me before, as slippery as a wet eel, but now it pleaded to be invoked. If I had only realized sooner, I could have turned the Undead Praxis Guard into so much dust and avoided a desperate struggle. But these were merely thoughts of what could have been, what should have been. Regrets had once held me captive, keeping me on the path of passable mediocrity. To give ear to them would be but a waste of time and emotion. They had no place in the here and now, in this world where civilized society would not shield me. If I could not conquer this construct of metal, what chance had I of overcoming Death? Somehow, I forced down a burst of reckless laughter that would have no doubt riled Iasis, possibly causing her to twist this Test against my favor. Impending triumph played its anthem within my mind as I began the motions to cast Rust. The dead syllables of an unknown language formed the spell in my mind. The voice of the spell resonated alongside mine, delighting in the anticipation of soon feasting upon fresh bounty. Just as men were often victims of their own hubris, so too did the gods often misjudge the capacity of mortals. Book 3: Testament [Part 1] Under intense scrutiny, some things become vague and indistinct, while others take on a perfect crystal clarity. - The Human Question, by Gideon de Salavia 378 A.C. A Power and hunger that knew no bounds burst from me on wings of black lightning. I had become a willing conduit for eldritch forces far beyond mortal ken. I was rewarded with the savage display of an elder god¡¯s wrath. Incandescent light, bright enough to banish the darkness, and the cloying stench of ozone filled the air as my magic consumed the Iron Golem with wanton glee. Even at this distance, I could feel the heat as the air around the giant threatened to burst into flames. For a few moments I was completely hypnotized, the display before me an energetic show of one of the most primal powers of the universe. There was a truth to be found here, if only my soul could grasp it. However, the temperature continued to rise and fearing for my own safety, I backed off as several metric tons of iron bonded with the air itself in a release of white-hot energy. After what seemed like an eternity, but could have only been minutes, a solemn silence filled the underground temple of the Mother of Monsters. A silence that was only broken by the hiss and crackle of superheated stone. A notification filled my inner vision and, soon after, a sense of accomplishment filled my heart. Rust, oh elusive Rust, you had grown to be more than just a simple curse spell.
You have completed a Divine Ordeal.
You have gained 200 experience.
You have gained 1 Luck.
Then, of all things, I felt cheated. What of the experience for killing the iron giant? Anger, that dubious and unthinking friend, perched itself upon my shoulder before the logical part of my mind presented an answer that drove it away. Like the Praxis Guard, the Golem had been a construct, a mere thing without life and soul. This all but proved one of my earlier hypotheses on the variable nature of experience. To gain experience, in any meaningful amounts, I needed to have unique experiences. And every life that I took, was by its very nature unique. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Along with the increase to my Luck attribute, the spell had given me the brief joy of utterly trivializing what should have been an epic struggle. But what truly gave me savage delight was the look of perplexity on Iasis¡¯ face. An expression that I would keep as a private treasure, only to look upon and sample when the fancy took me. Inviolate and mine. Mine and mine alone. But too soon did it fade, like the morning mist, to be replaced by a stony countenance. The gods of this world were not perfect, they were flawed. Nothing more than children granted power that should have never been theirs. ¡°What manner of pyromancer are you? To overcome such a mighty servant of an old creation with such ease?¡± asked the goddess of me, unable to hide the growing incredulity in her voice, ¡°Only a mortal who grows close to the end of their Ma¡¯at could command such puissant fire, yet I sense that you do not seek the frenzy hidden within the flames¡­¡± Indeed, the gods of this world, at least this one, were not omniscient. This was a far cry from their portrayed perfection in my world, as espoused in the books of modern misguided religious practice. And if they were flawed, they were unworthy of reverence and through their flaws they could be manipulated. They could be bargained with. It was worth a try. ¡°I will answer, if you will first answer a question of my own,¡± I returned, hoping my voice sounded steady and sure. Iasis arched an eyebrow in mock amusement before nodding her assent with a royal¡¯s authority. ¡°What of my companions? Those who were near me when I was attacked by that worm of the desert, are they alive and well?¡± I realized that, thinking of my companions even now, in the face of such a terrible being, spoke well of my character. Perhaps I truly was the hero of my own story after all. Floating sinuously through the air, she completed a loop around me, her eyes roved over me as if inspecting for any hidden mystery before she replied, ¡°Of all the questions you would ask of a Divine, you would first seek to merely assuage your worry of your companions? I had expected something along the lines of how to achieve greater heights of power, or the secret to immortality. How terribly virtuous of you¡­ and such a banal question, too. Refreshingly so.¡± ¡°We are more than just selfish desire,¡± I snapped, the vehemence in my voice shocking even me. ¡°As expected of a servant of my sister, oh so very sure of yourself. Of what makes you, you. This will only make marking you as one of my own even more satisfying. Very well!¡± she clapped her hands together in false delight before finally answering my question, ¡°Let it be known that Iasis is generous with her grace. They live, for now. Brought deeper into the desert by the Guardian, they clung to its hide like parasites. Exhausted from its duty, the worm returned to the depths. Even now, they travel towards this place, though how they still cling to life is a mystery, even to me. Ever has your kind been one of my more tenacious creations.¡± Relief flooded through me and I uttered my gratitude, ¡°You have my thanks.¡± My friends were safe, and I had not failed in my current quest to escort Larynda to Al-Lazar. Book 3: Testament [Part 2] ¡°Be that as it may. You have yet to complete my Test,¡± she breathed huskily, and I felt myself drawn by her intoxicating influence. ¡°I must choose a suitable opponent for a powerful mortal such as you. Something¡­ something poetic,¡± she drawled, running a finger across the line of my of my jaw before playfully tapping me on my nose. My sword would not strike a futile blow against that which it could not touch, nor would my teeth gnash against themselves in frustration, for I had long gone past the point where such petty provocation would get a rise from me. Still, my free hand formed an iron fist and I found myself gripping my trusty weapon tighter. I would succeed at this Test, and only come out stronger. ¡°Yes, I have just the thing! Your final trial and a suitable reward, should you overcome it. I am most generous, am I not?¡± she voiced with an intonation that demanded worship. It was a powerful thing, the influence of god, a mesh of soft womanly wiles and the hard steel of irresistible command that threaded through her voice. I felt myself start to give voice to a word of praise and thanks, but stopped myself. My pride would not allow me to do so. In comparison to the power of my patron, the source of dark, otherworldly magic, Entropy, hers was but a pale shadow. ¡°You do yourself proud. I see that you are made of sterner stuff. This will be the last Test. Come prove to me your worth,¡± she exclaimed, an echo to her voice that reverberated with heavy portent. From the last statue, an amorphous blob was born from the living stone. It shrunk in size, condensed and turned into liquid, before taking on the rough texture of mud or earth. Like clay. From this ball grew four limbs and a head. As it slowly took on more detail, I could see that it was molding itself into a vague approximation of a humanoid form. It began to take on more complexity, growing ever more sinister in its appearance. I yearned to strike this thing down as it was being created, before it could be completed, but something held me back. It would be wrong to strike down an unborn child. It would be perverse. It would be unjust. These thoughts, however, were not my own, and the choir of voices within clamored in protestation. A suggestion snuck through the alien thoughts to the fore of my mind, an image of the raw stuff of Entropy. Holy Aura would not serve me well here. The next opponent would require something darker, something more powerful. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. The auric light faded slowly, and with it my primary source of illumination. The orange red glow of Golem¡¯s body was all that was left, and even that had begun to slowly fade as my Rust spell continued to consume the remains. Divine purpose and the sense of righteousness was replaced with something more familiar. I readied the threads of Mana and cast the spell. Entropic Aura pulsed from me, and I felt a serenity, an acceptance of my place in all existence. Though I was finite and had an end, I was also the end. Finally, I was able to break from my fugue of inaction and false sense of fairness. Using the Dash skill, I closed the distance between us and raised a blow, fueled with the strength of Power Strike at what I thought was just a clay figure. My weapon was parried by the clay creation¡¯s weapon, and the first note of steel meeting steel rang in the air. Even in the questionable light, I could see that its sword was identical to my own. I took a step back to gaze upon the figure that had been born from the clay or living stone. It looked back at me through a visored helm, fashioned in the same style as my own, with cold disdain. What was once stone and clay, was now a thing clad with heavy steel, shadow, and dark ambition. In time to the waves of my own Entropic Aura, it emitted identical gray waves of its own that brushed and flowed against mine. It was in a way a compliment, I thought somewhere in the back of my mind. Of all the mighty monsters that Iasis could have chosen for her final Test, she had chosen that I fight a mirror image of myself. A reflection and testament of my own might. For a second, it looked down at what was left of the golem and drew inspiration from it. The thing had been born, but a few seconds ago, and I could sense that it was already learning. And learning quickly. Wary, I kept my distance, which proved almost to be my undoing. Black lightning flowed from its outstretched hand, intertwining with the pulses of our Entropy as raven dark energy latched onto my armor. Gritting my teeth, I expected a world of pain, girding myself to launch a last suicidal spiteful attack even as I cooked within my armor. But there was nothing. There was no spike of pain, nor was I turned into a blazing conflagration of metal. Absolutely ineffective, the black lightning wove and coursed futilely about my person. Stupidly, the thing cast Rust on me again, but to no effect, as the energies of the spell simply washed over me. I laughed in unrestrained glee at the lesser me¡¯s display of foolishness. It had even inherited my habit of making the same mistake twice. I understood now why the voices had prophetically advised me to use my Entropic Aura. The Aura had been the shield that had nullified my mirror¡¯s power. I knew it to be so. Before it could cast another spell, I redoubled my attack, our blades clashing in a song of sparks. I would enjoy this contest with the most perfect of sparring partners. Book 3: Reflection Money is arguably one of human civilization''s most impactful inventions. Born from human necessity, it quickly permeated every corner of the known world, being adopted by almost every race in Gesthe. Money fuels trade, serving as the cornerstone of prosperity and progress. Truly, its evolution is fascinating, from the initial exchange of rare shells to the minting of copper, bronze, silver, and gold coins. Yet, it is the Shareholder Houses of Al-Lazar that have truly revolutionized the concept. They ingeniously adopted mere paper scraps as a representation of value for easier trade. What makes this system striking is its straightforwardness. These notes can be exchanged for gold or other precious metals at the city¡¯s treasury, establishing a mechanism rooted almost entirely in trust and upheld by the city''s vast resources. Termed as "promissory notes," their popularity is surging among cities that engage in trade with Al-Lazar. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. Stroke for stroke, counter, parry, strike, and slash. It was my very mirror. Its very existence was a problem, a test and a divine ordeal. At its very essence, it posed the quandary - how does one defeat oneself? Like many things in life, the solution was simple, yet the execution was far from it. A simple answer to a simple problem. You just had to be the better version of yourself. ¡°A small hint for you, child of mortals. It will not be through violence, nor through magical might, that this Test is overcome,¡± declared the goddess imperiously, floating upon high. Our blades met again, locking clumsily, and we were both off-balance from having put too much power into our blows. She shrugged casually as she moved through the shadows and flickering darkness. ¡°Never did you mortals learn to listen,¡± she sighed exasperatedly. Distracted, a slow parry on my part caused a small shock of pain as the metal of my enemy¡¯s weapon smashed against my upper arm. It was a good thing that my Health was so high, as the force of the blow, I am sure, would have been debilitating, armored or not. Instead, an abstract ten points were subtracted from my Health pool. Angrily, I replied in kind, striking at its knee-joint, causing it to lose its balance and crash to the ground. However, my follow-up blow failed to end things. My mirror dodged the descending blade, rolling away. We were not equal after all. This thing, for all of its mimicry, fought like a machine. There was no anger behind its blows, just cold, calculated reaction. I switched grips with my weapon, holding it like a hammer now to better deal with an armored opponent. My mirror did likewise, and I smiled beneath my helm. As there was no emotion, so too there was no true thought behind its actions, no real plan. It was only reacting. I almost laughed at the bitter irony. This Gilgamesh-thing was indeed a perfect mirror of myself. My old self, that was. The old me that could do nothing more than to react to circumstance, that never thought of tomorrow. Always dealing with one problem without thinking about the next. The old me was weak. The old me was dead, dead from exposure, sliced from navel to neck in the arena, or crushed under the very earth itself. Our strikes became less elegant, but more punishing. We dealt ringing blows against each other that dented our thick armor. The underground temple to the Mother of Monsters sounded like a blacksmith¡¯s forge as we beat each other into shape. As we fought, it was like I was being made anew. Being nearly my equal made it the perfect sparring partner.
You have gained 1 Dexterity.
There it was, the key to my victory and the release from this underground hell. Unlike the pseudo-me, and the other artificial creations of this place, I had the capability for accelerated growth. It was a slim advantage, but one that would become more pronounced as the contest continued. But with such a close competition, the hand of fortune¡¯s favor would heavily influence the scales. I would need to massage the odds in my favor with a better strategy. I shifted to a more defensive mindset, focusing on avoiding the swift incoming blows, conserving my own Stamina and getting my mimic to waste more of its. Its hammer descended in a predictable arc, which I dodged, and the head of the weapon smashed into a plinth and sent stone chips scattering. Evading the attack had been easy, for I had seen the action telegraphed in my arms and the set of my shoulders, its arms and its shoulders. It was a flaw that Cordelia had warned me of before, that my movements were too large and lacked subtlety. They were too straightforward and honest. Seeing myself from an outside perspective made it easy to see the truth in her words. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. My retaliation came swiftly, a simple Power Strike enhanced blow that smacked into its helm, stunning it. Again, and again, I repeated this move until my vanquished foe lay still at my feet. Notifications filled my inner sight, but I paid them scant attention as I raised my hammer weapon to end this trial. ¡°CEASE!¡± cried out the voice of divinity, forcing my arm to stop, the limb suddenly feeling alien and apart from me. No matter how I struggled, it felt like the commands I was sending to my arm were simply being ignored. Utterly frozen, I could do nothing as the goddess floated closer to me. Always. Those in power only play games that they have already won, I thought to myself as I snarled in aggression. ¡°No, no, no. This is not how it should have been done,¡± pouted Iasis, ¡°You were meant to fight each other for a bit before you realized the futility of fighting yourself. It was meant to teach you something!¡± ¡°Teach me something, you say!¡± I spat back, my helm causing my voice to sound hollow. Rolling her eyes, she explained, ¡°Yes, you were meant to sheathe your sword and the mimic would have done likewise. It is meant to be a mirror of yourself! Have you not read of the tales!? Honestly!¡± ¡°Tales!? What tales? You speak in riddles and bend and break the rules that you have made, like a spoiled child. You have me dance to your tune, and I will suffer it no longer. Strike me down and end this farce, I grow tired of it all,¡± I answered, all the while using this time to check my notifications.
You have completed a Divine Ordeal.
You have completed the Test of Iasis.
You have gained 200 experience.
You have gained the Mark of the Adapting Helix.
You have learned Frenzied Strikes (lvl.1)
You have learned Swords (lvl.3)
You have learned Hammers (lvl.4)
You have gained 1 Strength.
From my notifications, this divine trial had certainly taught me something. Control returned to me as the experience flowed into my being. As powerful as they were, the gods of this world could be defied. If one was strong enough. ¡°Ignorant¡­ and so melodramatic are you, human, but I guess I did make you all in my own image,¡± she sighed, rolling her eyes. Her voice grew serious and stern, ¡°If I wished you dead, you would be. I tolerate your presence because you are amusing, and because I have a use for you. Be that as it may, I will not tolerate RUDENESS!¡± exclaimed the divine. The anger left her as quickly as it came, for her expression became bright and joyful. She clapped her hands together, her eyes lighting, ¡°You have passed the Test! Which makes you worthy of receiving my Mark. Oh, how delightful. This has not happened for, ah yes, centuries! Well done, now the Hul Abba, my servants will allow your passage!¡± she praised, her enthusiasm almost infectious. ¡°Now, claim your prize! Quickly¡± she intoned. I sought my ¡®prize¡¯, scanning all the corners of this room, only to see the pseudo-me swiftly revert to an amorphous blob. The liquid began to vibrate, creating ripples that distorted and distended it into strange shapes. Then corners formed, and new wooden textures formed along the surface. Slowly, it began to take the rough shape of¡­ a trunk or chest. ¡°Quickly, before it finishes its transformation. Touch it!¡± insisted the goddess, command etched into every syllable of her voice. I found myself drawing closer, my hand reaching for what was left of my defeated foe. Making contact with its wooden surface, I felt a connection more intimate than anything I had ever felt before as I claimed what was rightfully mine. My heart raced, pounding in my chest, as a strange, fiery desire enveloped me. And then, with an abrasive suddenness, pain, that most unwelcome of guests, imposed itself upon me. Book 3: Symbiosis [Part 1] It is perseverance through the darkest of times that truly marks the souls of the greatest of men. As the tide rises, carrying with it every ship in the harbor, so too does a man''s commitment to the realm elevate all those around him. In pursuit of a brighter dawn, one may offer a lifetime to the forging of a just and noble society. And though the shadow of mortality may claim him before he beholds the fruits of his toil, his legacy left behind is a bettered world. In the face of the abyss, where hope might seem but a fleeting wisp, those who tether their hearts to just purpose shall, indeed, find a profound fulfillment. - The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 A.C Even through a layer of steel, alien memories and more entered my consciousness in an overwhelming wave that sent me reeling. Senses that I did not possess, feelings that were not mine, traveled across the bridge of my touch with the Mimic. The collected thoughts of the monster flowed into me in a frozen fraction of eternity. Impressions of shape, sensations, and purpose blossomed in my mind, giving birth to the alien idea of its essence. It was an ambush predator. A monster that preyed on man¡¯s greed and curiosity, it lured them with the promise of rare and valuable treasures, only to snap shut the jaws of its many-fanged trap. A creature of shadow and black. Its kind lived in long-forgotten places of the world - in the ruins of lost civilizations, forgotten temples, and the other darker places of the world. From the moment it had been born, it had known only one thing. A deep, overwhelming need to consume. And consume it did, from simple rocks and plants, to that greatest delicacy of all - warm yielding flesh. Every day was a battle, and it fought to consume, to consume and to grow. It grew, even eating others of its own kind, such was its all-consuming need to grow and change. As was the nature of Mimics, a seed of consciousness began to form within, and with it a new ability. The nascent creature learned to change its shape, taking on the properties of the things it had consumed. It learned to wait to conserve its energies to bide its time. It learned to change its shape in order to lure its prey. It became a fully fledged adult Mimic. The taste of solid steel and hardened leather mixed with blood, bone, and scrumptious innards was, for the Mimic, a feast of experience. With each bite, it could feel and taste new things, new sensations. It saw things, things that made it want something more. Of all of its kind, the mimic before me had become truly apart and different. The old hunger, the need to consume, though still an insistent thing, lost its edge of command. It wanted to feel the sun, to feel the wind, to be outside of the ever-darkening gloom. Life began to lose its flavor, as food no longer held its interest. With no appetite, it began to lose its drive to live, and an unusual malaise fell upon the creature. This state that it found itself in was an aberration. For Mimics, their hunger was a very intrinsic part of them. The driving force behind their existence. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. A deep ennui overtook this creature, for life had lost its luster. Oh, how it wished to see the world outside. Food began to taste like ashes, and disinterested, the creature began to ignore its once delicious prey. As the mimic began to starve, consuming itself from within, it prayed to its mother, the Mother of All Monsters, for salvation from its stagnation. The fickle Divine decided to entertain this strange creature''s prayer. Iasis, seeing that this Mimic was unique among its own kind, gifted it with something equally unique, and something that only she could give. Iasis tampered with its life-script, the helix that preordained the shape of all life. She promised it delivery from the hell of its own self-imposed suffering, to give it a new world with a potential bond, the Gir-Shanu, the Change, promising it a host. And today, the Goddess had finally made good on her promise. A lull in the flow of memories let me slip back into the here and now, back into myself. The thing was sending out tendrils of consciousness, seeking out a form of symbiosis. Let me help was the mental impression I received across my bond. In my mind the creature formed the shape of my missing shield, dredging it from my recent memories. It was the very picture of what I needed right now. The thing, it seemed, was trying to be useful. Sifting through my memories, it then formed words, gleaning them straight from my mind, in an effort to communicate. The Mimic¡¯s thoughts and desires became known to me. It even wanted a name, of all things. To my horror, I saw that something else had been flowing into me, organic grey threads that pulsed in time to the beat of my heart. The last of the threads slipped through the gaps in my armor, their invasive presence working their way through my being. Of the chest shape that had been its budding chrysalis, only a thin brittle ash-like substance remained. The goddess looked down as her gift fused with me, crowing with delight as she clasped her hands together. In counterpoint to my horror, the power and strength such a fusion, such a true symbiosis could bring me was truly tempting, but in exchange I would be losing myself. I would be something different. And, the last thing I needed was another voice in my head. The dark things in my mind, the current residents, agreed with me, and together we hatched a plan to lure it in deeper into the halls of mind. The crux of our plan lay with my Drain spell. With the old Beastmaster Abas Yar, I had taken something from him when I had cast the spell with a touch. And what more intimate touch was there than the joining of minds? The voices explained that the spell Drain was more, much more than the simple transfer of vitality. It was the subtle consumption of a being''s very essence, the thing that made them, them. The transfer of memories gave evidence to this fact. But how could I target a thing that was within? The very notion was so steeped in the mystical that my modern enlightened mind could find no starting point of reference on how to even begin. We will do it for you, the dark choir promised, their voices loud and insistent in the hollows of my mind. All I would need to do was cede a little control to them, just a little, and together we would exact our revenge on the things that sought to control us. I found myself agreeing. Better the devil, you know. Besides, the voices sounded familiar, like a long-lost friend, and had, as of yet, never steered me wrong. Together, we sent out feelings of warmth and acceptance, and the voices opened up a door to the inner parts of my mind. Innocently, the mimic accepted our mental invitation for congress, passing into the area we had prepared for its demise. Book 3: Symbiosis [Part 2]* The jaws of the trap closed as its main consciousness sought to meld with my own. The dark choir opened the floodgates when it was at its most vulnerable. They assisted me in channeling raw Entropy, the foundation of my power, into the mana-form of a most complicated spell. As this energy surged, the void whispered madness, as something was simultaneously drawn away in a chaotic symphony; the intrinsic identity and the essence of the Mimic. It was they, and not I, that cast the threads of the Drain spell, each tiny thread latching onto a string of the Mimic¡¯s conscious thought before hungrily tearing into it. It was taken completely by surprise, for human duplicity was still a foreign concept to it, and it could have never predicted this moment. For a second, I felt its fear before it was completely overwhelmed, as its consciousness was sucked out of it and lost to the ether. I had, for all intents and purposes, destroyed its consciousness and whatever it was that made the Mimic a Mimic. I shrieked internally in delight for a victory claimed, though the understanding of how I did what I did was fleeing me. I was me, and not an us. I was a human, and not some sort of amalgamation of man and monster. I was pure. Up above me, Iasis crowed happily as she floated in lazy circles. With a smile, her divinity descended, stopping just above head height. ¡°Wonderful, now truly you are stained in my colors. I have beaten my sister on this turn!¡± she crowed with childish joy. She doesn''t know. She doesn''t know. She doesn''t know. I kept repeating myself like a mantra in my head, fighting back a smile of satisfaction. The gods were not omniscient and it seemed that even they could even be tricked. ¡°Now, I guess there is nothing for it but to be on your way. Your very existence will be a walking prayer to me, the greatest of Divines. Know it to be an honor and a gift,¡± she intoned. ¡°I live but to serve,¡± I answered wearily, glad that my helm hid my features. ¡°How delightful, I see that the Change has transformed you for the better. Much better. I see you have finally learned some respect, even if it makes you a little less interesting¡­¡± she pouted prettily. ¡°Now, tell me would you like bear my Grace? It is a more powerful thing than my sister¡¯s.¡± There it was, the true design behind all of this ridiculous nonsense. The true monster before me clearly wanted to trap me in some kind of Faustian bargain. I tried to summon the defiance to refuse, but my curiosity was stronger. ¡°What advantage does your Grace have over mortal-made alchemics or common spells?¡± I asked cautiously, my voice hoarse from my ordeals. The Goddess quivered with rage, closing her eyes for what felt like an eternity. When she opened them, slowly and deliberately, I was met with the full force of her ancient, malevolent gaze. "You dare to treat with me as if this were a market square, mortal? You would choose the clumsy imitations that only mimic what I, a Divine, could bestow upon you? Do you believe it takes merely an immortal body to bear the burden of time beyond your mortal span?" Her words were more of a declaration than a question. She tossed her head back and laughed, the night of her hair fanning out behind her. "You wouldn¡¯t be the first to walk such a path! Truly, your brazenness knows no bounds." "Avaria would have me as a puppet and slave. What can you offer me? I may be, as you say, a mere mortal, but I am no fool. What do you want?" I insisted, forcing the words out. Inside my helm, I smiled a secret smile. I had learned a crucial lesson: a Divine could be tricked more than once. Mine was not a hopeless quest. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Her smile turned lascivious and beguiling once more as she floated closer, pressing her supple body against the unyielding hardness of my armor. Never before had I felt such a powerful, demanding need. I marshaled all of my will to resist. Yet, as if controlled by unseen strings, I found myself removing my helm and hooking it to my waist. "Much better," Iasis purred, grinning before whispering into my ear, "Nothing too odious, my child... all you would have to do is..." The words that followed pierced my ears, sharp and unbearable¡ªwords no mortal was ever meant to comprehend. Blood trickled from my nostrils as I collapsed to my knees. With just a few words, my Health had dropped by over fifty points. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I felt a primal fear take hold of me. "I hope that was instructional," she said, her voice cold as winter¡¯s breath. "That was a fraction of a fraction of eternity. Let it serve as a reminder that without us, you mortals are nothing. Know your place and the cost of your petty defiance." "But what mother isn¡¯t forgiving?" she continued, her tone shifting. "I forgive you, Gilgamesh of Uruk. You will leave now, for I have much to consider." Iasis smiled, her unnatural golden, slitted eyes filling with a strange sadness. "Leave us... my prayer made flesh," she whispered, retreating into the deeper darkness, her form becoming less real, more transparent. ¡°One of Vari¡¯s virgin whores waits for you on the sands with a few other mortals. You would do well to end her, or perhaps do whatever you wish with her¡­ Ah, and there is a new den of your kind at the end of the long water. You may go there and spread my glory. Go forth then, my Gilgamesh, you will find safe passage from the Guardians and the Praxis down that path. Remember to always take the left,¡± Iasis instructed, pointing imperiously to a passage that had mysteriously opened behind the altar dedicated to her. Moments later, she faded from sight. Her words hit me like a splash of water in the desert, and relief settled awkwardly upon me. So engrossed was I in my struggles that I had forgotten completely about my companions. Up until now, a part of me had thought them dead, swallowed by the great worm. If I had, however, thought about things rationally, I realized my quest to escort Larynda had not failed, which meant that she was still alive. And, if the girl was still alive, then it would have meant that others who had been in proximity to her were also. It was high time to focus on the path before me. Pushing down my concern for my companions, I peered ahead and could barely see the passage, for the glow of the golem corpse had dimmed considerably. Nonetheless, I forced myself to walk on, glad that I had a means to get out of this dark and forsaken place. I had had enough of the gods for a moment, sworn promise of vengeance or no. For a few moments, I considered recasting my Holy Aura, but thought better of it because of recent company. I had to at least keep the thin veneer of acquiescence, or the Goddess might be less accommodating. With my heart burdened by recent events, I lumbered on with a clank of metal, starting upon this dark path with no small amount of trepidation. With no good source of light, my hand guided the way as I felt along the unnaturally smooth stone walls. Once I judged I had traveled a suitable distance, I decided to finally take stock of my situation. In need of light, I pushed down the hungry pulse of Entropic aura, a pulse that had grown to follow the beat of my heart, and released Holy Aura. Determination filled me, a sense that I was doing right, and the light of the spell illuminated the way. Under the light of divinity, I took inventory. Despite the casual violation of my will, my encounter with Iasis left me with a glimmer of hope. From her, I had learned that it was possible to achieve a form of immortality without the aid of the Divines. Also, I had my blade, a lethal weapon capable of warding off the mightiest of monsters in my hands, a well-made dagger and a fancy crossbow that was useless without any bolts. How long would I need to travel before I could find a source of water? Iasis had disappeared before I could ask her any relevant questions to my current situation. The gods of this world were certainly stingy in their aid¡­ Where was the mimic? Was the thing inside of me and eating at me from within? The potential horror of the situation ran laps in my mind as I searched for its presence, and felt a shifting under the skin of my hand. Quickly, I removed my gauntlets and touched the hand that had made contact with the monster. It looked normal to the naked eye with no unusual markings, but I could feel something new, but now unquestionably dormant, within me. Then, tendrils of something vile undulated just under the skin in rippling patterns that thoroughly disgusted me. I had to stop myself from dry-heaving, thoughts of this moving within my hand almost unmanning me. Hissing through my teeth, I prepared myself for what I had to do next, grateful that I had kept enough Mana in reserve for a Heal spell. As I raised my sword, Iasis¡¯ whispered words echoed in my mind, freezing my arm mid-motion. Snarling, I brought the blade down to sever the infection that had taken root in my hand, the last of the taint that was the gift of the Mother of Monsters. Book 3: A New Point of View [Part 1] The Whispering Wastes, at least from the mouths of the more intrepid adventurers tell, has hidden depths beneath its shifting sands. They speak of a cavernous network of tunnels, bored out by the Guardians of the wastes and of rivers, not of water, but of sand that flows beneath the surface. They tell tales of people who have never seen the light of the Sahel, our glorious sun, who have made such a place their underground home. Others whisper of cannibalistic and backward troglodytes, far removed from our common ancestry, who prey on each other and the monsters that dwell beneath the surface. But all of them speak of the vast treasures of an ancient civilization and a gateway into the deeper darkness. A path to the mystical realm of the Everdark. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. Hesitation, the source of all failure, leeched power and speed from my blow. My sword was slowed in the final fractions of a second before it was stopped by a layer of wood and metal that grew with sudden speed from the joints of my wrist and formed just above my arm. From near my wrist, an organic mix of wood flecked with dull metal burst forth tendrils that formed a shape. The shape of a small round shield. Dumbstruck, I could only pause in shock as the edge of my blade cut into this new shield. Messages and notifications then floated across my vision, obstructing my view. Blocked, my sword had bitten deep into the strange wood, but not nearly enough to cut through it and sever my wrist. I had been completely protected from harm.
You have learned Monster Taming (lvl.1) Your Entropic Mimic has learned Adaptive Defense (lvl.1) Your Entropic Mimic has learned Shield Form (lvl.1)
There it was before me, the unnatural shape of my curse and my latest parasite. Had my humanity been taken from me, making me a monster, an unnatural and alien thing? I would grieve if I had any tears left in me, I thought to myself with a bitter mental laugh. The thing living inside me, was it a separate entity? Or I had become partially a monster? Perhaps it was a little bit of both. I had envisioned that the invasion would be finished once the voices, as promised, had neutralized the Mimic¡¯s influence. But, like all wars, the damage is still felt long after, as this unnatural growth was testament to. Was this supposed to be the Iasis¡¯ gift, a shield made from my own flesh and blood? Then this should be a blessing, and not a curse. A giggle infused with the chaos of the moment escaped me, so overwhelmed I was at the ridiculousness of it all. I scanned my Status, looking for any changes.
[STATUS] Calling: Gilgamesh lvl.12 Paladin/Reaver
Strength: 30 Dexterity: 26 Constitution: 42 Intelligence: 21 Wisdom: 22 Charisma: 14 Luck: 21
Entropic Mimic [Creature of Entropy - lvl.24]
Health: 462/474 Stamina: 58/60 Mana: 1/1 Adaptive Defense (lvl.1) Shield Form (lvl.1)
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.3) Power Strike (lvl.4) 10 Endure (lvl.4) Stealth (lvl.1) Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Rest (lvl.3) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.3) Polearms (lvl.3) Dual Wield (lvl.2) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.3) Improved Unarmed Combat (lvl.1) Hammers (lvl.4) Flails (lvl.3) Maces (lvl.3) Shields (lvl.3) Medium Armour (lvl.3) Heavy Armour (lvl.5) Axes (lvl.2) Daggers (lvl.4) Throwing Weapons (lvl.2) Double Throw (lvl.1) 5 Shield Bash (lvl.2) 10 Riding (lvl.2) Dash (lvl.1) Swords (lvl.3) Crossbows (lvl.4) Blind-Fighting (lvl.1) Rush Strike (lvl.1) Tracking (lvl.1) Trap Detection (lvl.1) Frenzied Strikes (lvl.1) 30 Monster Taming (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) 5 Rust (lvl.4) 2 Identify (lvl.3) 1 Silent Casting (lvl.2) Mana Regeneration (lvl.2) Purify (lvl.2) 3 Greater Heal (lvl.2) 10 Holy Aura (lvl.3) 2 Decay (lvl.1) 1 Drain (lvl.5) 2 Entropic Aura (lvl.3) 2 Inferno Bolts (lvl.1) 2
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% to all starting attributes. Mark of the Paladin: 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical. Touch of the Void: 10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects. Mark of the Adaptive Helix: 5% resistance to Physical, Minor Regeneration
Experience to next level 812/891
Health: 256/342 Stamina: 8/70 Mana: 10/14
There it was, a new entry on my Status, the list and record of my progress and accomplishments. The Entropic Mimic, with all its own mini status within my own. For an irrational moment, jealousy pulsed hot. This creature had taken up precious space in my already cluttered ¡®character sheet¡¯. I took a deep breath, shaken by my almost-self-dismemberment. The will I had worked up to cut off a part of my limb had left me, and the crazy part of me finally stopped giggling. The rational part of my mind was slowly taking over, searching within for any last remnants of my invader. Finding nothing, not that I would know what I was looking for anyway, I began to think more and more logically, and cold reason took the helm. Like appreciating a pointillist painting, I needed to take a step back and appreciate the whole. Book 3: A New Point of View [Part 2]* Forcing myself to continue, I plodded on in the darkness with the clank of my armor punctuating my steps. I needed to keep moving. My companions were waiting for me. Despite her annoying prattle, and putting aside the whole almost dying part, I had come out of the exchange quite well. Playing one god''s ire against the other had worked, giving me yet another source of power to work with. I read over the additions again, trying to work out a few answers for myself. First, there was my new skill. Being bonded so closely, at the very much physical level, and perhaps psychic level, had even given me the Monster Taming skill. I had sampled the monster¡¯s life across our mental link and had drunk deep of its memories. For a time its struggles were mine, its hunger was mine. It had felt that I truly was the Mimic. Apart from the feeling of disgust that still lingered, this opened up a whole plethora of new possibilities, provided I survived long enough to make use of the new skill. Or survived its use. My new ¡®pet¡¯, for lack of a better word, had its own Status displayed within my own. True to form, this world decided that it would be unsporting to give me more detailed information. All the information I had on my new passenger was its Health, Stamina, and Mana, alongside its new skills Adaptive Defense and Shield Form. Its Shield Form skill was rather self-explanatory, and I had an inkling that the Adaptive Defense had something to do with it suddenly forming a shield in reaction to my attempt at self harm. The name of my new passenger itself was puzzling, Entropic Mimic. Was it just a simple Mimic before it met me, and upon bonding, had been changed somehow? What did the prefix ¡®Entropic¡¯ mean for it? What did it mean for me? More worrying than the name was that, at four hundred and seventy-four, the Mimic¡¯s Health dwarfed my own. Was that because it was at a much higher level than me, having lived in an environment filled with constant conflict before its ennui and its encounter with Iasis? Or was it, like the Xaruar, simply because it had a ridiculous Constitution attribute. Most likely, a mixture of both. I vaguely recalled that the monster, before we had completely bonded, had wanted to make itself useful. It had latched onto my recent memories of the loss of my shield. Perhaps, that was the reason it had received that skill? Also, if it had acquired the Shield Form skill, then it stood to reason that there would be other forms and shapes it could learn in the future. The Entropic Mimic had only a single point of Mana. I concluded that this was due to it no longer having a consciousness or true will of its own, having been completely suborned by my own. Though I was reluctant to be a host to a parasite, I would use the tools that were given to me. I would be a fool if I didn''t use everything in my power to survive in this world, even if I did not fully understand the ramifications of doing so. From my experience, the gods of this world were rather backhanded in their blessings, after all. The voices, my other passengers, agreed with this assessment. It was yet more fuel to add to the growing pyre of hate, the only emotion that I reserved for false gods of this world. Yes, for false gods they were, and from my experience, far from perfect beings and most definitely not worthy of respect. Still, however, they were powerful¡­ Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! For all of this, I could not feel its physical presence within me, either. My limb, for all intents and purposes, felt just like an ordinary arm. I moved it experimentally, testing its range. Yes, apart from the new growth, nothing odd. I willed it back, and felt nothing. Next, I tried imagining my arm and wrist as they used to be, willing it to be so. It felt like learning how to walk for the first time, a clumsy thing, but slowly the new growth receded, disappearing back into my flesh through the gaps of my armor. How convenient, I thought to myself in a moment of black humor. At least now, I would not need to go shopping for a shield ever again. This new symbiosis was very much one-sided, in my favor. The mimic was effectively dead, its monstrous nature now joined to mine. Or was it simply dormant, and this was its way of making me let down my guard, before it consumed me in my sleep? An existential dread threatened to overwhelm me before the voices soothed it away. The legion within me had done their job, or so they had assured. The choir protected its own against any and all. As I was thinking these thoughts, I saw my Health, along with the Mimic¡¯s, go up a tick. That must be due to the Minor Regeneration effect from the Mark of the Adaptive Helix, the new entry in my character sheet. Though perhaps of little use in a confrontation settled in a manner of seconds, its effects outside of combat were already making themselves known. What were the biological implications of all this? Was there even one? Wasps had been gifted their stings by an ancient virus, incorporating the alien presence within their very being, across the generations. My symbiosis, was it to be a similar story? Would my future prodigy, if any, be cursed, or blessed, similarly? What was the term for it¡­ mutualism, or commensalism? The scraps of knowledge of my old world, of my old life, had grown distant. Questions within questions, within questions, spiraling pointlessly within my mind. I would have to set aside such things and concentrate more fully on what lay ahead. There was still the option of excising the thing at a later time, if it proved problematic. However, I doubted that I had it within me to actually do the deed. Still, perhaps one of my companions could do it for me. Fearful of drawing the ire and attention of the goddess, I was leery of using my Holy Aura so close to a place sacred to her. With no torch to light the way, the path I was on darkened considerably, rendering my vision near useless, the ambient light now nothing more than a patchy feeble glow. The purple veins of glowing mineral that threaded through the walls now illuminated next to nothing and simply emphasized the ominous air and heavy darkness of this place. Out of nowhere, the whispered words of the dark goddess echoed in my mind, bringing a fresh wave of pain that bypassed my Pain Nullification. I leaned heavily against the unnatural wall, struggling to rally. The voices, those steady friends, took from me those words of a vile promise of false salvation. It was the only way. Long minutes passed before I was finally in some sort of shape to move on. Disoriented, I trailed a hand along the left wall, shuffling forward with slow, tentative steps. In this manner, I proceeded a good while, despite a pall of claustrophobia threatening to overwhelm me in the suffocating gloom. Now, hopefully a good distance from the goddess, I channeled my Holy Aura to throw off the dark and to top off the last of my Health. It was bright, too bright, for eyes that had grown accustomed to the dim. Down before me, beyond the circle of my light, I heard the slither and clacking sound of something approaching. Empowered by the spell and my divine gifts, thoughts of flight were a distant thing for one such as I, who had been chosen by one of the greater powers of the universe. Being close to level thirteen, I needed the experience, and welcomed conflict. Whoever, or whatever, it was, mattered not to me. I would not flee, come what may. What had the goddess said about going down the left? Who cared, I would deal with this thing first and then backtrack later. I drew my sword with a new and fierce determination¡­ and this time summoned my new shield. Book 3: Cultural Exchange [Part 1]* Of the Mer, the children of the salt and sea, not much is known. It is said in a few academic circles that in ages long past, they enjoyed an alliance with the Children when the Tides were a sea-going people. Some even speculate that it was, in fact, the Mer that taught humans how to use the element of water, a claim I find patently fantastical. At first glance, the Mer bear some resemblance to humans, much as apes might seem kin to us. They possess a head, torso, two arms, and, peculiarly, two feet. However, the similarities abruptly cease there. The Mer are a diverse people, but their features often belong to the realm of nightmares. Some have large bulbous, unblinking eyes, while others have none, relying instead on quivering feelers that sample the air for sensory input. Their extremities are webbed, and some even have sinuous tails. Bony spines erupt along their dorsal ridges, providing an otherworldly contour to their forms. The hue of their blood ranges from emerald green to viscous purples and vivid reds, adding another layer to their arcane mystique. While some are encased in intricate scales, others have skin as sleek as that of eels. According to seasoned adventurers, on land, the Mer make for fearsome adversaries, which leads me to conjecture that in their aquatic realm, they would be nigh unstoppable. An intriguing yet disquieting footnote: their flesh is considered a prized delicacy in the city-state of Al-Lazar, a detail that reveals as much about the Mer as it does about the peculiar tastes of Al-Lazar¡¯s citizens. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. The pitter-patter of unsoled feet on smooth stone, came up from where the enigmatic dark sprawled before me. Shapes coalesced into vague mimicries of men, hunched, twisted, and albino pale. From the path directly in front of me they came, holding crude, primitive weapons. They waved clubs and simple spears at me in obvious threat. A part of me noticed that, for the better part, they did not look directly at me. They were all shying away, or shielding their eyes, from my golden light. Then suddenly, the leading figure, stooped, but larger than the rest of them, howled at me in primitive warning. To their credit, these troglodytes, these crude approximations of the men, did not attack me. Perhaps they were not as stupid as I thought them to be, or maybe they just knew on an instinctual level that I was armored death, come from the surface. Instead of feeling relief at encountering other thinking beings, if they could be called thinking, I felt only revulsion. A very bad first impression indeed. Drawing myself to my full height, my head almost brushed the ceiling of the low tunnel, and looked down at them. Seeing them for the pathetic creatures that they were, a flicker of pity stirred within me. They were lesser and I doubted I could find answers to my quest here. Still, feeling unusually generous, I decided that I would at least try to communicate with them before I sacrificed them all on the altar for more experience points. I began, as I always did, by casting an Identify on the leader of this ragged assembly. This was soon followed by another cast of Identify on his guttural howls that served as his language.
Glod - Troglodyte Ranger (Human lvl.10) Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!
Health: 176/180 Stamina: 41/44 Mana: 7/7
What struck me as most astonishing was the classification of the entity as a human, at least within the confines of this game''s taxonomy. The revelation piqued my curiosity, for at least in my opinion, the game had a rather expansive interpretation of the term "human." Intriguing, indeed, for with such a loose definition, the term itself could suffer from a wide spectrum of abuse. The threads of my last Identify spell came back to me, filling my mind with new meaning. With my increased Intelligence, along with the aid of the spell, I would be able to parse most of his words. Vastly improved, I could sense that the spell was doing more than just translating the words and inscribing them upon my memory. To me, it felt that it was searching for the very root, the essence of their communication. Images and sensations of the ancient Troglodytes filled my mind. I saw their brief lives filled with struggle, every day spent hiding from a burning sun. As the last vestiges of the magic of the spell left me, I noticed that the leader even had the temerity to have a name, Glod. I took a moment to look more closely at this motley group of ¡®humans¡¯, noticing the mismatched series of leather strips and rags that served as their clothing, hiding only, for the most part, their genitalia. Of particular note was the curious way that they shaded their eyes with thin cloth. Light, it seemed, was not unknown here in the realm of the dark. I had been taught in my old world that all cultures were beautiful, all of them equal and special, in their own ways. However, these things in front of me put paid to such fanciful and idealistic notions. The whispers came and bolstered this view. This was definitely a stark example of an inferior culture. A culture that had no place and deserved only contempt, they said. I saw the leader turn towards me after conferring with one of his seconds. Feeling that whatever came next might be of some import, I recast Identify to make sure I would understand their words fully. ¡°You have come from the place of the Darker Dark, Metal Giant. You do not belong here, for you trespass on the territory of the Stone. All must respect the Stone. I say, go back from where you came!¡± the leader stated, waving a club studded with teeth and claws. For added effect, he puffed out his chest, attempting vainly to somehow look down at me despite the disparity between our height. Smiling within my helm, I pointed calmly at him with my sword, the smooth motion a juxtaposition against his erratic movements. Metal Giant, he said. I never considered myself to be exceptionally tall, but here I felt like an adult among infants. He looked at me worriedly, fearing a challenge. I lowered my blade to point at the flask I noticed at his hip. Hopefully, it was full of life-giving water. I felt powerful. Apprehension danced across his face. It was followed by incredulity, before finally changing into curiosity. Slowly, he understood my meaning and reached for the flask with his free hand, his club finally stopping its motion. Likewise, the others of the group, of whom seven I could see, also stopped waving their primitive weapons. ¡°You want water? Then you will go back?¡± he asked, placatingly. The last threads of my spell slowly faded, and the rest of his meaning escaped me. I found a small tick of anger begin to take root in me, for I found the sounds that served as his language offensive to my cultured ears. Instead of responding, I decided that silence would be the more menacing answer. What came next was a series of nonsensical grunts. No, that was a lie. The grunts were a part of their language. Thinking myself their superior, I had been closing my mind off to actually learning their language. As my mind puzzled over their gestures, their tone of voice, and the lines of their bodies, I was beginning to understand them. Truly understand. Book 3: Cultural Exchange [Part 2]* With a new cast of Identify, I regained my boosted state of greater clarity. Their leader, Glod, took a water skin from one of his group and offered it to me, which I accepted. Noticing that his water skin looked a little fancier than the one I had received, I pointed again to it, gesturing for him to hand it over. ¡°Give you my Zlesh Viper water skin? But why¡­? You have the water you want,¡± he asked, looking flummoxed. I did not appreciate being talked back to or second-guessed. ¡°No, Glod! Don¡¯t do it. It is just playing with you, grow a backbone,¡± one of their number commented. For the life of me, I could not tell if the speaker had been male or female. ¡°Many of us. One of him¡­¡± a more belligerent member opined, swinging a crude sling. A ranged attack might be worrying¡­ ¡°Fool! What if he can¡­¡± a more even-headed member chastised. My precious time was being wasted and my patience was being sorely tested as they refused to give in to my demands. I longed to vent my frustrations on something that was weaker than me. I was severely outnumbered, but from my magical analysis of their leader, I was far from outclassed. In this narrow tunnel, the advantage that they had in numbers would be difficult to bring to bear. Annoyed, I decided to change the conditions of our little deal. ¡°All,¡± I barked in my deepest voice. With luck, my Charisma would be high enough to intimidate these pathetic creatures. The leader, Glod, addressed me again, a little patronizingly, ¡°Alright, alright! All of our water skins¡­ but first, we need you to help us. There is a Metal Restless One, wandering close to our homes. Perhaps if you¡­¡± Even knowing that the chances were infinitesimally low, I decided to take a half-hearted gamble. "Answer me. Do you know of a way to life that is always full and never runs out?" I asked, keeping my words simple and vaguely hoping that they understood my meaning. "Strange words from a strange man," Glod responded, his face twisted with curiosity. "Everyone knows there is only the Long Dream, then waking, then the Long Dream again¡ªa cycle. To be awake forever is impossible. One cannot conquer the final sleep. One must always enter the Dream if they wish to wake," he continued in explanation. "Then, no," I retorted sharply, a natural response to his foolish overture and explanation. I did not like his tone and there simply was no benefit for me. These pathetic worms were merely wasting my time. Their problems were not mine, and I was under no obligation to help them. Stubbornly, I did however still want all of their water skins. It was the principle of the matter. I walked up to Glod and loomed over him. I could almost taste his fear. ¡°All,¡± I repeated. I definitely did not like repeating myself. Some people needed reminding of their place. I flipped the weapon in my hand, causing them all to take a step back, and I smashed the hammer¡¯s head against the wall. The force of the blow sent sparks, splinters and fragments of stone flying. There was silence as I pointed once again to Glod¡¯s precious water skin, before slicing it off the crude thing that served as his belt. Then, I pointed to them each in turn with my sword, gesturing at the skins at their hips before pointing downwards with my free hand. ¡°All,¡± I repeated yet again. If they still refused me I would cut them down to a man. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The message was clear, for almost all of them threw their water skins down. Slowly they started to back away. Wanting to expedite matters, I smashed my weapon against the wall again, causing fresh sparks to fly. Terrified, they all started to flee. In a moment of rare inspiration, I used Dash and grabbed one of them, a smaller individual, by its long dirty, and matted hair, causing it to scream in abject terror. Completely abandoning their comrade, the rest of them continued to flee back to the place from which they had come. The fading echoes of their flight served as a testament to their haste. The one I had captured continued to gibber nonsense, most of it howls and grunts interspersed with entreaties for me to spare its little life. It spoke to their strength of character, that they chose to leave one of their own behind, I chuckled to myself. Or perhaps it was simply because their fear of me was just so great? I lifted the creature I had captured off the ground with one hand. Raising it by the hair to eye level caused it to emit fresh new screams and I could not help but grin. My own Strength surprised me, as a feat such as this would have been impossible not long before. The thing continued to bleat out nonsense, causing me to realize that the magic of my spell, Identify, had faded. Recasting the spell yet again, I focused on the troglodyte in front of me. ¡°Please! No! No! I have a family! My brothers and sisters will go hungry without me! After many turns, I finally became a Scout! To end like this¡­¡± the Troglodyte continued to beg. I felt an uncharacteristic shard of sympathy lodge itself in my heart before I mercilessly excised it. Perhaps, a side-effect from my constant use of Identify? Listening intently to the meaning of its words, I began the task absorbing its random blatherings and let my magic do its work. It was almost as if I was downloading raw data, and the magic of the spell was acting as a sort of key that lifted the encryption. Remembering my time in a cell in Ansan, a brief shiver overcame me. Luckily, my cell had a barred window that gave me a tiny view of a nearby market. There in that cage, I learned the Trade language, absorbing words and ideas while behind bars. In comparison to those early days, my language learning skills were improving, of that there was no doubt. For the sake of completion, I cast another Identify, not on its words, but this time on the prisoner itself, giving me a vague understanding of its physical and mental capabilities.
Zala - Troglodyte Scout (Human lvl.9)
Health: 121/137 Stamina: 32/41 Mana: 10/10
Zala the Troglodyte Scout was a non-threat, slightly weaker than Glod, but probably substantially more intelligent than him. If Zala¡¯s and Glod¡¯s attributes were anything to go by, they were both generally weak. Perhaps things would have been simpler if I had just rendered them all down for the experience? No, that would not do. A man had to live by the rules that he set for himself. They gave me what I wanted, so I let them live for another day. Sometimes Zala would grow quiet. The stream of information from the spell would pause until I violently shook the humanoid, causing it to go on a fresh desperate rant. In this way, and over the course of a few experimental hours, I learned their primitive language. Well, at least, I gained a semblance of understanding. The world itself seemed to congratulate me.
You have learned Identify (lvl.4)
You have gained 1 Intelligence.
Finally, a reward for my efforts. Though no improvements to my maximum Mana, at least not yet, I could already feel the gears within my mind turning that little smidgen faster. I discovered that the troglodyte''s language was a tonal one. The inflections on certain grunts that served as words changed the meaning of them. From my improved intellect and my magic, I concluded that the Troglodyte language was also highly contextual. Various ¡®words¡¯ had very different meanings depending on the situation in which they were spoken. In short, it was a very difficult language. Odd, indeed, for such a primitive group of people. When I thought I had learned enough of their cave speak, I waited for my prisoner to quiet down before taking a quick glance at my Status. I had only about a third of my Mana left. I ripped off the creature¡¯s cloth shade and looked into its ever-widening eyes which were doing their very best to look away. Taking a deep breath, I spoke to the creature thus in my most commanding voice, ¡°Zala, you will take us to the surface.¡± Book 3: The Guide [Part 1] Often I had wondered how my friend had such a firm grasp of strategy and tactics, and ostensibly without any formal training at that. It was games from his childhood, of all things, that had schooled him thus, or so he said. But what sort of games were they from his land, that could teach the principles of logistics, battle lines, the correct order of battle, the importance of morale, and so on and so forth? At times, he would speak with profound depth, though in his delivery I could tell that perhaps the words were not his. Yet, in all of my own studies, I have yet to find a single work that could have been his source of wisdom. - From the diary of Damien de Savant. A lifetime of grime and dirt covered the troglodyte, who I could see at such a close remove, was female. Dirty crude skins covered her important parts and small bones jingled in her matted hair, giving her a primitive, and now, dejected aspect. So ugly was she, that were it not for the fact that I had already identified this dweller of the dark as human, I would have seriously considered trying to use my Monster Taming skill on it. One saving grace to all of this was that the creature had stopped struggling. ¡°Take me to the surface,¡± I commanded flatly in their simple tongue, infusing my voice with as much menace as I could muster. Her Confusion struggled with her terror for a second. However, it was her curiosity that won out. ¡°Surface?¡± she questioned, eyes growing wide with the unfamiliar word. Oddly innocent, like a child speaking its parent¡¯s name for the first time. ¡°Yes,¡± I responded, drawing out the single syllable before pointing upwards. ¡°The place of the Bright Bright?¡± she exclaimed, eyes growing even wider in incredulity. Now that she knew that I wanted something from her, she realized that her life was in no danger.. With her fear lessening, she was slowly clawing back a semblance of control and confidence. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. For some inexplicable reason, every word she spoke seemed to draw my ire. I gave it a brief moment of thought. Some people, or whatever she was, just rubbed me the wrong way on a cellular level. ¡°If that is what you people call it,¡± was my flat reply. I decided to not expand upon my answer. Hopefully, she would expand upon this Bright Bright thing for me. ¡°But that,¡± she gulped as if for dramatic effect before continuing, ¡°That is the place of the fire that always burns, and the winds that cut like blades. No, no, no, only demons walk on this surface, ever since the bad times. So it said,¡± she blurted, shaking her head. Annoyed. Irritated. How these emotions could grow. Why was it that they had to talk in riddles? Was it in a pathetic attempt to stir interest in their little lives? Before I knew it, I had wrapped my hands around her throat and was squeezing hard. I noticed that my shield had disappeared to wherever it had come from. I remembered summoning it before my encounter with the Troglodytes, but when had I dismissed it? Damn, this world and its total blasted disregard for the natural laws of the universe. Zala was choking and spluttering as she feebly struggled. I lessened my grip, letting her take a strangled breath. It would not serve my cause for me to kill my only source of information for this place. Going forward, perhaps I could curb my slightly homicidal tendencies, if I spoke out the creature¡¯s name. ¡°Zala¡± I demanded, the command echoing down into the deep beyond. Zala stilled her pointless spluttering. Trembling, she continued on for a while, muttering unintelligible sounds that grated on my ears. I realized that my Identify spell had run out and cast the spell anew, allowing me to catch the tail end of her explanation, ¡°No one goes to the surface, the place of the deadly Bright. If you go there, metal man, even you will enter the Lonely Dream.¡± This drew a snort from me. I deigned to grace her with an explanation. ¡°From the surface, I have come, and to the surface, I will return. Show me the way, Lonely Dream or not,¡± I said firmly. Hopefully, exasperation had not infected my attempt at being menacing. Was the fool simply prevaricating, buying time while the rest of her people marshaled more of their forces against me? The voices within agreed that it was so, but more to the point, I could feel them urging me to leave this place. I decided that this little interview had gone on long enough. It was time to expedite things. ¡°Zala, take me to the surface, or I will skin and gut you. Slowly.¡± Book 3: The Guide [Part 2] Ten steps became a hundred, and a hundred became a thousand. My guide had been most talkative until we had walked a few thousand more. Her throat parched, Zala begged me for water and rest. Even the threat of death could be overcome by the body¡¯s demands. Graciously, I allowed her to drink from one of my recently acquired skins, noting that, at the very least, the water was not poisoned. Not that I would have cared, with my ridiculously high Constitution attribute. Zala had spoken of many things. She shifted from entreating me to turn back, to speaking about her family, no doubt in an attempt to win some sympathy, to the occasional useful tidbit about the flora and fauna. To all of this, I simply answered with noncommittal grunts and the simple terse command, ¡°Keep moving.¡± Deciding that a break was in order, I took the time to chew on some of my own rations. The Scout ate some of her own before curling into a fetal ball, whimpering for a few seconds before sleep took her. Seeing her like this made me start to think of her as a person, and not just a potential source of information and experience. Like this, I built the foundation of the walls that would allow me to curb my darker impulses. At least, until we reached the surface. I did not rest in the traditional sense. Clearing my mind, or making my best attempt at it, I settled back against the wall into a dazed state of semi-watchfulness. It was not true sleep, but thanks to this, my Stamina and Mana were recovering and ticking steadily upward, albeit at a much-reduced rate. After an indeterminable amount of time, I was granted a reward.
You have learned Rest (lvl.4)
This disrupted my almost trance-like state, and not a moment too soon, as I heard the slithering sound of smooth scales wandering upon stone. Taking my sword in hand, I kicked Zala, causing her to squawk and jump up with fright. Stealth was never an option here, not with the glow of my Holy Aura. Zala, in the interest of self-preservation, immediately scuttled behind me. A forked tongue entered my halo of light, followed lazily by a scaly diamond-shaped head that would not have been out of place on a large dinosaur. The head was soon followed by a pale sinuous body, about two doors wide, and so long that it seemed to stretch endlessly into the passage beyond. This new creature had sharp bony ridges along its snout and its eyes were blind unseeing orbs of milky-grey. The rest of its body was dull white, the color of bone left under the summer sun. I heard a muttered mention of Zlesh, the word sounding vaguely familiar to my ears. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. I needed to know the scope of the threat. There was more to it than this. It was a thirst that went beyond just simple curiosity. Gripping my weapon tightly, I cast an Identify on the monster before me.
Zlesh Viper - [Reptile lvl.22]
Health: 528/528 Stamina: 47/51 Mana: 5/5
It had a full ten levels on me, and truly represented a real threat. Unlike the joke that was Iasis¡¯ trial, this beast was a real and present danger. Slowly, I backed away, accidentally bumping into Zala. I had not come this far to die here. I would cast Drain on the creature, weakening it, and hope that it slowed enough that I would have a fighting chance. There was a reason that humanity stood at the top of the food chain, after all. But Something made me stop. Perhaps it was the way that the creature did not immediately attack, or it could have simply been primal instinct, but something of this world told me that for some mysterious reason, the animal in front of me was not a threat to me. For now, at least. I stilled myself, as the creature came within striking distance, its tongue constantly tasting the air. Holding my breath, I gripped my weapon, my nerves strung taut, as an obnoxious notification played across my vision.
You have gained 1 Luck.
Sinuously, the ridged head passed me, followed by its smooth undulating body. It was a gigantic serpent. At around ten heartbeats later, I saw a large bulge in its midsection that caused me to breathe a mental sigh of relief. It seemed that the Zlesh had fed recently, and unlike man, or for that matter felines, it would not engage in killing for sport. And then a small part of me felt somewhat belittled that it did not view me as a threat. Once I could no longer hear its slithering movements, I breathed out a true sigh of relief and felt the stress of the moment leave me. Behind me, Zala was a trembling wreck, but I soon corrected that situation by cuffing her across the head and kicking her back into gear. Whimpering, she continued walking. The encounter with the Zlesh was a lesson. The powerful did not need to fear the weak. Book 3: Bread & Water [Part 1] To be a good man is to live with virtue and integrity on the hardest of roads. - A Quassian aphorism. The path ahead curved upwards, becoming also more natural in its formation. Here and there, stalactites and stalagmites grew from the floor and ceiling, occasionally meeting to form pillars. Glowing purple lines threaded through the rock here, making the formations look like living blood vessels. It was a sign, as good as any, that this place was most ancient in its origin. Zala was ahead of me, scampering this way and that, chirping the occasional comment about our local environs and sniffing the air. After a few moments, she helped to confirm my suspicion that we were close to a source of water. And where there was water, there was food. I was used to privation, but I could no longer ignore the hunger pangs that a few strips of jerky could simply not assuage. ¡°We are close to fresh water. It will taste more like blood as we get closer to the Bright. They say it is because a sky-god bled here once,¡± she informed me, her eyes focused downward, subserviently. ¡°Good. Find it, and we will drink,¡± I returned simply, glad that we could refill our skins. Regretfully, not all of the skins had been filled with water. Some had filled with noxious liquid that burned my throat and set my limbs afire. In short, it gave me wings. I would have kept the energizing liquid, but it caused me to sweat a river and left me even thirstier. Regrettably, over half of the skins were of extremely poor quality, fashioned from fragile animal bladders that ruptured when their former owners discarded them hastily before taking flight. I had to discard them, as they were unusable. Between us, we had six usable containers, of which three were about half full. Things were not desperate, not yet, but I knew enough to plan a few steps ahead. Also, without a way to gauge how much longer it would take to reach the surface, this news was a godsend to me. The ¡®blood taste¡¯ description might be these primitives¡¯ allusion to the heavy metal content in the water. The thought of drinking water with actual blood in it, was on some level, a little repulsive. I pointed at her to go ahead. ¡°Go. Scout out ahead. If you do not return I will find and gut you,¡± I commanded. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Gulping, she nodded her head a few times before and she scampered off. Ever since the encounter with the fearsome Zlesh Viper, I felt that she saw me as something of a protector. Those who were weak would always take shelter behind the strong, it was the way of the world. She was used to taking orders. Zala returned to my side, with a worried look on her face. ¡°Water, a small watering place. Clean, I think. But there is one problem¡­¡± ¡°Spit it out,¡± I barked. I kept my responses short as, despite my magical ability to learn languages quickly, I still only had a very basic grasp of their underground language. With that in mind, I surreptitiously cast an Identify. ¡°Yes, yes,¡± she continued, surprisingly unfazed, as if she was expecting this response, ¡°There are other things at the water. No big ones, like the Zlesh. We were lucky with the Zlesh, you were wise for not moving. No doubt you saw that it was sated and slowed. The Zlesh are known to move faster than a thrown spear. I saw some Ghostwalker Crabs. They are, of course, no threat to one as mighty as yourself but¡­¡± There was always a but, ¡°They have begun their courtship dances and they will be most territorial.¡± I waited for a few moments, to really absorb her words. Every word was being added to my lexicon as my mind digested them. Having learned one language already, the acquisition process had become much easier for me. It turned out that my teachers had been right, up until now, I had just been lazy all along. When your survival depended on it, one picked things up quickly. Finally, I formulated a response, ¡°The Crabs, they can be eaten?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± she piped, perking up almost immediately. ¡°They are most delicious. We used to¡­¡± She grew silent as I ended my Holy Aura, the darkness returning as the golden light withdrew. The golden song that had been playing faded, and with it my righteous sense of purpose. For some reason, I felt less sure. The reality of the task of returning to the surface somehow felt like it was becoming an impossibility. I rolled my shoulders, cutting off such nihilistic thoughts as my eyes grew accustomed to the dull gloom. My light extinguished, I noticed now that the area we had entered was brighter than where we had come from, with more of the luminous rocks casting their glow. Here the darkness was, by an order of magnitude, far less stifling. Looking in Zala¡¯s direction with an appraising eye, I could see that her choice of attire was actually less primitive than I had originally thought. Now, I could see that instead of being a haphazard mix, her ensemble seemed to be a deliberate selection for our current environment. Here in this poor visibility, her garb did a good job of breaking up her outline, its texture and lines rendering her as just part of the background rock. I realized I had overlooked something rather basic. Book 3: Bread & Water [Part 2] ¡°You. How long before we reach this Bright?¡± I demanded. She shifted, seemingly startled. She looked down and to the left before she nervously gave an answer, ¡°The Bright¡­ I would guess four dreams, no eight¡­ eight!¡± I could almost taste the deception in her words. Not only was she lying, but I could only discern the vaguest of ideas regarding how long it would take. I was going on the assumption that a ¡®dream¡¯ was their equivalent to a day, for there was no sun to mark the time here. And here in the dark, my light was her sun. She had, at some point, come to accept that the light of my aura, that had once caused her discomfort, was actually a sort of shield that protected her from the creatures of the dark. In a way, it did, as it was healing the minor hurts she had acquired along the way. It was not so long ago that she could not look directly at me without squinting her eyes. Though the jury was still out on whether I actually counted her as a person. My stomach rumbled, catching me off guard. ¡°The crabs, I assume you people hunt them, yes?¡± I asked my prisoner. ¡°Yes¡­but¡± she began worriedly. ¡°But nothing. If pathetic creatures like you can kill them, then I can kill them. I will kill them. All of them. Then we will drink from this water. If you are lying or preparing treachery, you know what will come to you,¡± I interrupted, growling in my most threatening voice and causing her to just fearfully nod. Why did going down to get some water have to be so difficult? Why did everything in this world have to be difficult? ¡°Well? What are you waiting for? Show me the way, and be quick about it,¡± I commanded, and I swore she almost jumped to attention before heading off to heed my command. Scuttling in front of me, she led the way, surefooted in her stride. I, on the other hand, was a textbook example of clumsiness, almost tripping over every rock that I came across. This drew a worried look from my long-suffering guide, so I decided to be a little more careful in my step. Soon enough, the path, or tunnel, opened up into a cavernous area. Here, the purple glow of the ceiling was perhaps fifty meters high. After the claustrophobic space of the tunnels, coming here was almost a welcome relief. After an indeterminate amount of time, she gestured for quiet and pointed. Creeping as best as I could, I squinted in that direction, straining my eyes. My ears informed me before my eyes did. What I heard was a roiling crush of heavy bodies colliding, followed by the crash of displaced water. Finally, my eyes beheld a large pond, or small lake, of liquid twilight, filled with creatures, dozens strong, that looked like they had come from the darkest part of the ocean. In the center of the lake was a pillar formed from centuries of redeposited minerals. Alien chittering and clicking noises accompanied the sight, the sound akin to that of a deranged maracas. I had found new prey. They, as far as my eyes could tell, fit their name of Ghostwalker Crab almost perfectly. In the half-light, their carapaces were a ghastly pale gray and their many-limbed shadows stretched across the cold stone. They had no eyes, but were instead crowned with four long antennae. The bony sensory organs flicked and waved aggressively, as if tasting the air itself. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The giant crustaceans fought against each other in a grotesque display of dominance and desire, an erratic dance as they circled one another, grasping for purchase or already locked in a deadly embrace. They danced upon the ancient weathered rock of the shore, and in the dark water of the lake. Where a chitinous carapace was pierced, sludge and viscera oozed from the wounds. Would the water be potable after such a violent competition? The monsters'' attention focused solely on their duels. We were able to get a little closer and, hiding behind an outcropping of rocks, we continued to observe them. Holding my breath, I tried to judge the distance between us and the battling Ghostwalkers. My earlier bravado had disappeared like smoke before a stiff breeze, and I scrambled to think of some sort of plan to deal with these monsters. Going over my options, I remembered the Karilla, that fearsome beast of the Sainba forest. If I could stay hidden, at this range, I could begin to pick them off slowly. I would just have to pray that they did not have a means of detecting the magic I cast on them. ¡°We remain here, I will deal with them,¡± I whispered to my local guide. Zala looked at me, perplexed, as I started to prepare a spell. Identify came first, and I cast it like a net over one of the largest males, giving me a rough overview of their relative power.
Ghostwalker Crab - [Crustacean lvl.16]
Health: 276/332 Stamina: 23/51 Mana: 1/1
Seeing a specimen broken down into numbers was a relief, for, in terms of raw statistics, it was a far cry from the Zlesh, though, still worryingly, a little above my level. More importantly, they had extremely low Mana, which was a sign of low intellect, making them like normal crustaceans. Essentially, they were stupid. Relieved, I prepared to cast my only real direct damage spell. It had been a while, or at least I believed it to be quite a while, for time here under the earth was most fluid, since I had last cast Drain. Here in the shadowed cavern beneath the earth, a darker shadow formed within and was let loose. Like eager hounds, the lines of power sought their prey, attaching themselves to the nearest source of life energy. I prepared to run, only to put aside such thoughts, as the vibrant song of life filled me with its energy. The voices, my true friends, rejoiced for me. Running was for cowards and weak men. I could see that the spell had substantially improved. The rate at which the creature sped towards its untimely death hastened, as I was empowered. With this magic, I had become invincible. I wanted to fight, to glory in the thrill of the melee. At times like this, I was glad to have heavy steel about my head. Its solid weight settled me in some sort of strange way. It also covered what I assumed to be a face consumed by my baser pleasures. I knew that I was not, in fact, as invulnerable as my feelings sometimes led me to believe. These emotions I recognized now to be the influence of my magic, a subtle thing that could deceive by degrees. And this was no time for a blaze of savage passion along the knife-edge of combat, to indulge my base desires, no matter how satisfying that would be. It was a time to deal cold calculated death, slow as that might be. Perhaps if they were human¡­ their screams would be more satisfying to my ears. No, no, these thoughts too were not my own. I would stay here where it was safe, and kill all of them. One by bloody one. Book 3: Slow & Steady [Part 1] In the rich tapestry of Al-Lazar¡¯s Shareholder Houses, the House of Alim stands uniquely storied. Their ancestral tales whisper of a figure, known only as the Shield, a traveler from a realm distant and mystic. Beyond even the burning, treacherous waves of the Glass Fire Sea, the people of the long ago claim that her origins lie across a sea of the stars. On a world where mankind blossomed in the time of the ancients. Legend suggests that this enigmatic woman, a slave, was a foundational pillar of Al-Lazar, instilling her otherworldly resilience into the bedrock of its inception. I believe that it is a truly flightful fancy that a woman was a founder of one of the Great Houses. However, House Alim commands respect and awe amongst its peerage. Every generation has produced formidable warriors that echo their legendary ancestor''s might. - The Fanciful Travels of Beron de Laney 376 AC. Patience was a good a tool as any. A sharp blade, it was often mistaken for prevarication and hesitation. I was armed with patience-a-plenty. I was trying to keep perfectly still and the symphony of stolen energies continued to fill me. My spell had changed, improved and evolved. The deeper darkness of its tendrils, which only I could see, would on occasion, also latch onto hostiles near my initial target. Like the tendrils of a carnivorous plant, it spread and drained them of their essence. In short, it had a random area-of-effect now. This was important, as the monster crabs themselves had only one point of Mana. With Drain using twice that, a single crab could not fuel another crab¡¯s demise, which meant that I had to rely on my natural rate of regeneration. Despite my Mana Regeneration skill, the whole process was still painfully slow. Foolishly, I was indiscriminate in my use of the spell, and soon enough, some of the badly wounded crabs began to fall. Stupidly, the males continued to battle each other, but now some of the smaller specimens, perhaps the females, pulled their corpses to the shores of the underground lake and began to devour their remains. One of the males, weakened by my magic, had grown lethargic, his movements lazy and leaden. His opponent, a smaller but faster crustacean, saw that his strength was flagging, and moved to pin him down with both of his fearsome claws. Somehow, the defeated monster signaled submission, causing the victor to release him. It was not nature¡¯s way to kill in contests such as these. If contests such as this resulted in death then it would be an overall loss for the species. No, these competitions were merely displays of strength, designed to attract females and to produce strong spawn. but neither I nor my magic cared anything for that. The loser was consumed by my dark magic and I received my experience, fueling my progress. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Without any drama or fanfare, I earned my next level, driving me to level thirteen. A most auspicious number. Needing a boost in my magical abilities, I placed all my attribute points into Intelligence and the single skill point into the Mana Regeneration. This resulted in a clear result of an extra two points of Mana, but it would be difficult for me to measure the exact effect of my improved Mana Regeneration. Still, it was just what I needed. Idly, I regretted not bringing my potions on my outing. However, knowing my Luck, and the general unfairness of this world, had I done so, they would have probably been ruined in my descent to this dark place. Glancing at Zala, I saw that, like me, she was perfectly still, blending almost perfectly with the rocky environs. I surmised that as a Scout, she would be used to long periods of inaction. Since beginning my slow one-man-war against the chitinous terrors, I had completely lost track of time. I felt no tiredness, and with no sun, nor any other heavenly body to mark the passage of time, the only thing I could rely on was my slowly depleting reserves of Mana to measure it out. While I wrecked slow corruption upon this generation¡¯s shelled youth, I found myself thinking about the fate of my real companions. The goddess had mentioned that they were making their way to my location, but where was this exactly? And how far had we traveled from Iasis¡¯ temple? What of Laes and the people of the caravan? It would be most inconvenient for me should the worm have attacked them. Certainly, the nights would be a little colder if this had come to pass. But these were thoughts for another day, as yet another monster fell and gifted me yet more empowering experience. Zala turned her head to face me. Her expression was unclear, but I imagined the thoughts that must be going through her head. I had not touched them, yet the Ghostwalker were falling one by one. To her, who could not see the black energies of my spell, it must have seemed that a curse was wrecking slow disaster through their ranks. Good, I thought to myself. Let her know fear, and that this would be her fate should she try betrayal. It was, after all, better to be feared than loved. As I was doing my best impression of a statue for such a long time, I thought I would have developed a cramp, but the constant invigoration made that possible fate a lie. Everything felt so clear, and the world was at a higher resolution. I could even smell the metallic content of the water, for it was stained with fresh blood. Stupid as these creatures were, even they came to understand that this area was dangerous. Aggression, mixed with the savage urge to reproduce, was a most dangerous cocktail. The deaths, rather than dulling their instinct to mate, drove the remaining males to greater heights. The smaller surviving males, to be exact, for I had made it a point to specifically target the larger ones first. I waited there, as insidious and as implacable as cancer, keeping five Mana in reserve and casting a new Drain whenever I could. A part of my mind drifted here and there, sifting through scattered memories of a different time. Of a different place. Even with my improved Intelligence, it was as if a heavy veil had been placed over certain parts of my recollections. Certain details I could view with greater clarity, but others floated just out of grasp. That was what time in a barbaric world would do to you. It would try to reduce you to being one of them. Book 3: Slow & Steady [Part 2] Hours passed, or at least that was how it felt, and I could see that the strain was wearing on Zala. I had done enough with my magic, it was time to finish things in the old-fashioned way. Truth be told, I longed to take a more direct and physical approach. I stood up surprisingly smoothly and broke cover. My dark silhouette must have been plain to see, for a few of the crabs'' antennae waved spasmodically in my direction. Too engaged with their activities, they barely paid me any notice. Zala, a little less sure on her feet, took position behind me as I strode forth. The crabs that were left were far smaller creatures, only waist high and the diameter of their carapaces only about a meter and a half. As I drew closer to them, they began to click their claws and chitter in warning as their feeble brains finally began to register the threat. I weaved the song threads of my Holy Aura, casting it in a burst of golden radiance. The light scattered across the dark lake, refracting in a kaleidoscope of color. But these creatures did not care one whit, for they were blind and could not see, and thus could not truly appreciate the dread future that was descending upon them. My new shield formed on my left, taking the shape of a small round wooden targe, the edges of which were plated in metal. The Azag-Gishban, I held as a hammer, its comforting weight an assurance. Sidling up to me, some of the Ghostwalkers waved their claws threateningly. Unfortunately for them, the time for threats had long past. All that was left was the struggle, the conflict, the harvest of experience. I started to jog, swatting aside a claw of one of the crabs. Using the momentum of my parry, I then smashed where the roots of its antennae met its carapace, a simple Power Strike enhancing the force of the blow. Chitin was no match against forged steel and there was an explosion of green-tinged viscera as its shell was rent asunder. I kicked at the pathetic thing, knocking it away, its legs still thrashing, as its body still had not registered its own death. I felt a heavy strike across my left cuisse that only served to annoy me. The damage caused was only five Health points and was absolutely insignificant. Hope filled me, a glorious thing that I drank deeply of. I was strong here, stronger than a normal man had the right to be. But then again I was more than a normal man, If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Swiveling smoothly, a maneuver that Cordelia taught me, I moved to deal with the monster that had the temerity to strike me. It was no different from its peers, and like its peers, it would meet a similar fate. Unfortunately, it was backed by others of its kind. Something whispered to me then, to try something different. Instead of my usual bread and butter Power Strike, I surrendered myself to one of my newer skills, Frenzied Strikes. What followed next was a haze of craze-filled violence. Catastrophe was my weapon, and none were spared my wrath. Again and again, I used the skill, each use of it more tempting than the last. Every wave of unleashed rage was a cathartic release against this very world. I slashed, smashed, stabbed, punched and kicked. Again and again, my body following the rhythm of wrath, as more and more monsters fell. Caring nothing for my defense, I was struck countless times, the shield in my hand nothing more than just another bludgeoning tool. Another of the creatures caught me in a vice-like grip around the ankle, I knelt and smashed the offending pincer with my hammer. Yet another monster crab drew me close, its horrible limbs trying to squeeze the life out of me. Experimentally, I used Rush Strike, and at such close remove, it simply resulted in the creature flying off me with its shell cracked in several places, its claw arm ripped from its socket. Distracted by my last opponent, I allowed a strong-shelled limb to smack into my back, sending me reeling from the impact. A spike of pain flared as something found its way through the weak points of my cuisse, burrowing through the mail. My Stamina was draining rapidly, and I realized, so too was my Health, as the remaining creatures swarmed me, inflicting a deluge of minor hurts. But at the end of the day, they were only minor hurts, trivial things that barely stung at all. Perhaps it was because of the new mark that granted me minor regeneration, my ridiculously high Constitution, or my new armor, but I was weathering this storm. Though they were damaging me slightly faster than I could heal ¡®naturally¡¯, at the rate I was mowing them down, their fate was all but sealed. However, I am not a man to leave things to chance, no matter how deep I had drunk from battle¡¯s cup. Hubris had always been a fatal flaw of the powerful. In a single cognizant moment of clarity, the eye of the storm, I unleashed a Drain spell on a more distant creature to balance the equation even more in my favor. The questing dark found it, a few tendrils of spell finding other targets in the crowd. Their life energy, along with Holy Aura, would help fuel my cull. The new energy lent me strength, and like a carpenter knocking down rebellious nails, my weapon rose and fell, rose and fell. And how the experience flowed. Book 3: Unforced Errors [Part 1] Cowardice? Is it simply the absence of bravery, or a symptom of simple human failing? No, it is not, for I believe it to be something deeper. Along the long path of human history, great men have risen and fallen. Wars have been won and lost, and tales of heroism and cowardice have been woven into our shared heritage. The shadow of cowardice has lain across the path of those who falter in the face of seemingly great adversity. Those who put down their arms when faced with a greater foe, or those with whom fear has gripped so utterly that they fail to act. Across most of the civilized world, cowardice is considered to be a deep moral failing in the main. Some of Philosophers of Quas believe it is rooted in the self, the absolute need to preserve one¡¯s own current state. This could be one¡¯s economic or social standing, or even one¡¯s life. Oftentimes, such is the will to preserve this state that people will instinctually override concerns such as morality or ethical concerns. I believe that, like all human traits, it is a complex thing and more than just a diametric opposition to bravery. It is the failure to overcome insecurities and certain fears. In my own humble opinion, I put forth to you, that ultimately cowardice is the betrayal of our ideal sense of self, the potential of what we could be. - The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC. The waters were stilled, my rage quenched. All that was left were the corpses of the simple creatures that had decided to oppose me. I felt irritated that even the simplest tasks had me putting in far more effort than I should. ¡°Zala!¡± I called out into the darkness, a hollow echo was the only reply. Where was she? Damn her eyes! I would run her down and kill her if she had betrayed me at such a juncture. I searched around the area, my holy light a torch in the darkness. Then I found her, or what was left of her, anyway. Among the broken corpses was a shabby and lifeless figure, her head pitifully caved in. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. I quickly scanned my notifications, and there among them was evidence of my latest blunder, ¡®You have slain a Human.¡¯ At least her death would not be in vain, for her life essence would evermore be, in some way, a part of me. There was, however, a silver lining to the whole debacle. My Frenzied Strikes and Endure both improved by one level. In addition, I had gained another point in Strength and Constitution. Perhaps in another level or two, I would exceed four hundred Health. Overall then, not a complete loss. That being said, I had still lost my guide, and I now found myself in a little bit of a predicament. Oh, Zala, even at the end you were an inconvenience, leaving me now to find my own way to the surface. Useless NPCs. However, I had learned that using Frenzied Strikes when near companions was not perhaps the best of ideas. Oh well, you live and you learn. I searched among her things, keeping important items and discarding the rest from her bag. Things like a few pieces of questionable dried meat, a length of fibrous rope, and a stone, which I suspected to be flint, I kept. Useless to me, as I did not know how to start a fire, but I held on to it, all the same. Laden with another bag, I felt like an armored pack mule. Unsure of relying only on Drain to replenish my internal reserves, I heartily began eating some freshly cracked crab flesh. Its slimy texture left a lot to be desired, but I found it filling, if not palatable. I made sure to scarf down as much as I could, leaving the rest. I took a moment for myself, enjoying the silence, while I waited for my Health and Stamina to creep back up. The eternal question remained, what on earth do I do now? With my head in my hands, I indulged in a moment of self-pity. The smallest hint of a breeze threaded its way through my hair as I looked up at the purple-threaded veins that ran through the rock ceiling. I took a moment to dunk my face into the lake, holding myself under for a few extended seconds. As I raised my head out of the water, I vigorously shook like a dog, more to clear my thoughts than anything else. It was then that I felt it again, that faint hint of moving air caressing my damp face. A surge of realization washed over me. That was it! I was saved! I had found my elusive way out. Just like it was in the mines of Ansan. In that gentle breeze, I had found my way to escape. Gathering my things, I held my helm in the crook of my arm, moving in the direction of the breeze. I walked at a brisk pace. One that I could maintain for hours, if need be. A quick look back revealed that nature would not be so quick to give up its bounty to simple decay. Naked of fur, and long of tooth, six-legged rat-like creatures descended upon the banquet I had left behind for them, the scavengers of this realm. Purpose lent speed and determination to my stride, and I barely noticed the creatures that hastily stepped out of my way. They probably smelled the death stench that was upon me. All except one monster, who decided to test its luck, thinking me easy prey. Book 3: Unforced Errors [Part 2] A giant scorpion analog stood in my path for a few moments. Like the giant crabs, it was a pale white, and possessed thick natural armor. Its mandibles clicked against each other in warning before it launched an attack. On any other day, I would have considered it a threat, but so intent was I on the singular goal of getting out of this place, and so drunk on my recent victories that I barely gave it half a mind as I dropped my helm and prepared to do battle. A protective barrier, my new shield, formed in less than a heartbeat, and automatically absorbed a vicious strike from its tail. The scorpion¡¯s stinger blocked, it could do nothing more than pump venom ineffectually into the wood. Then I rushed into the dead space between its claws with a Dash to give my next blow greater force. In perfect striking distance to its head, I began to smash my weapon repeatedly into it, working my way up to its thorax with Frenzied Strikes. After a last, sickening crunch, as my hammer caved in the chitin armor, the monster finally gave up the ghost, feeding me with more experience and improving my Critical Hit Mastery Skill. It would have been a waste of Mana to identify, so I simply sat on the scorpion¡¯s pale corpse as I waited for my Stamina to recover. I could not see them clearly, but I heard the scuttle of the creatures of this realm giving me a wide berth. With the little grace given to me, I perused through my Status, confirming the gains, and was mildly surprised to see that my new partner, the Entropic Mimic, had lost a few points of Health. I surmised that it most likely had been damaged by the scorpion¡¯s attack, its Health points taking the place of Durability. Of passing note was that it had actually gained in maximum Health, lending me to think that it could also grow in power alongside me. A comforting, if also a little disquieting, thought. The wind was growing stronger, its voice now a quiet susurration instead of a ghost of a whisper. With a new spring in my step, buoyed by new-found hope, I picked up my helm from the stone floor and marched on. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. At last, the expanse of the cavern started to constrict, gradually leading me toward a network of intersecting paths. These were predominantly rugged and uneven tunnels that branched off in various directions from the main cavern. I waited for the guiding breeze to lead me, to give me some hint as to where to go. The air was still for long moments, the silence broken only by the skittering movements of the local animals. There was the distant buzzing or the flap of leathery wings. I heard, far beyond the circle of my light, the chattering cries of creatures calling out to each other. At one point I fancied I saw a pair of orbs, golden with reflected light, looking straight back at me. Then I felt that errant breeze, the promise of sky, originating from one of the narrow paths leading upward. With nothing for it, I went down this path that angled and twisted ever upwards. As I progressed, the walls became laced with more than just the purple mineral veins, but now also sported splotches of a dull glowing green. Closer inspection revealed it to be a sort of bioluminescent lichen. Curiosity, that rascal of a friend, urged me to use Identify on it. With some Mana to spare, I simply thought, why not?
Beron¡¯s Dream (Lichen)
Health 4/4
Curiosity joined avarice in whispering suggestions in my ear. Perhaps I could bring some with me to the surface? I reached to touch the strange lichen and felt a small tingle, even through my gauntlets. Strange, I thought to myself. Noticing no negative change to my Health, I decided to gather some of the specimens, scraping them off the rock with my knife and stuffing them into a side pocket of Zala¡¯s bag. At the very least, I would have a source of light aside from my Holy Aura and a way to conserve some Mana. I almost began to whistle, sure that my fortunes had finally changed, but stopped myself. It would not do to attract unwanted attention here. The thought of another encounter with a Zlesh Viper sent a shiver through my spine. Book 3: Finish Line [Part 1] Just as water holds greater value than gold for a thirsty man, so too does silence in a world filled with incessant noise. Cultivate your silence, contemplate deep thoughts, and you will be able to hear more. To observe without distraction. - The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus circa 520 AC. Continuing onwards at a rapid clip, uncaring of stealth, or the better part of caution, I made my way, ever upwards, with the clank and jangle of metal echoing my footsteps. No adversary presented itself to me, giving me time to review recent events. The last encounter with the giant scorpion worried me. Perhaps more than it should have. Not that it was a close call, or anything of that matter, rather, it was my lack of self-control. It was not ingrained reflex, born from conflict, or intense training that had moved my arm to block the giant scorpion''s stinger, rather it had been something else. My arm had moved of its own volition, admittedly to defend me, angling my shield perfectly, blocking the scorpion''s attack completely. However, it was still most worrying nonetheless. Was I willing to cede a little control in order to have an automatic means of defense? Where would it end? Was I slowly being taken over? The voices soothed me. Promising that all was well. I always had ultimate control, whether it was with my magic or my fate. It was important to think positively, especially in dire circumstances. Perhaps I should just think of this as an upgrade of sorts. The Mimic, after all, had no will of its own, so the voices now told me, whispering their assurances. However, it still functioned at a very basic level with its instincts for self-preservation very much intact. It was still programmed on an instinctual level to protect itself, and by extension, me. Wanting to confirm the promise of the voices, I moved my shield arm, making sure that I had complete control. Summoning and dismissing my shield multiple times, I reaffirmed that it was indeed I who was ultimately in control. Like always, it was a disturbing sight, to see tendrils of matter grow out of my arm before forming a construction of thick wood and hard metal. Was it my imagination, or did the shield look a little more hefty, a little more solid in its constructions? The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I tried to initiate mental communication with the Mimic, the alien creature that had bonded with me. I expected an attack of some sort, but was instead met only with silence. No words or alien impressions assaulted my senses, no communication. Though the power and convenience it brought were welcome, it was a relief to not have another voice to contend with in the halls of my mind. So relieved was I that my feet stopped their onward progression, and I had to shake myself out of the fugue that had settled onto me. The thing was dead, truly dead, in the way that counted most, at least. I had confirmed what the voices had told me, the thing was basically in a vegetative state. Therefore, it was mine to control, and not the other way round. Who knows what it planned for me, had we joined together in mental communion? Which led me to consider, if we had indeed bonded, would I have remained essentially me? Was that not, in a way, a form of death? With so many things pulling me this way and that, I counted this as a victory. An act of defiance against Iasis herself, and, by proxy, the gods of this world. Resuming my onward march, I was determined to not be sidetracked and defeated by negative thoughts and to focus on my singular goal of getting out of here. Philosophizing on the nature of self and so forth could wait until after I had returned to surface lands, the Bright, as the recently departed Zala had quaintly put it. More of the lichen had grown here, and the purples in the walls were being overrun with the greens of it. The type of creature I began to encounter started to change. Instead of them all being universally blind, some of them had large disc-like eyes that glowed in the dark. For some reason, I decided to take this as a positive sign that I was getting closer to my goal, the surface. The wind, the guide that had picked up Zala¡¯s torch, was growing stronger too, another positive sign. In the overall ledger of my current circumstance, accounts were slowly being balanced toward the black. Book 3: Finish Line [Part 2]* Feeling that I had made decent progress, I sat down on the hard stone floor, placing my helm to my side. Although I felt my body was far from tired, my mind was reaching its limit. I searched for a state as free from conscious thought as possible, but failed abysmally. I had made a promise to myself to not be sidetracked by negative thoughts, but the reality was that my mind was too cluttered by a myriad of concerns and worries to make good decisions. Taking a quick break, I decided that slowly unpacking them now would be the better option, while I could. It turned out that digesting events and putting things into order helped me to relax. I idly traced an armored hand through some of the green glowing lichen, Beron¡¯s Dream, as this world deigned to name it. The tingling sensation returned, vaguely pleasant in that it helped to break up the general monotony and served to distract my mind. How easy it would be to fall asleep here, I wondered. Shaking my head, I quickly dismissed that disastrous thought! Was that thought even my own? Was even the lichen working against me? A sudden spike of paranoia flared hot as I scrambled to my feet. I stilled myself, slowly forcing my breathing to resume its natural pace as my heart pumped wildly in my chest. Beron¡¯s Dream indeed! I debated whether I should dispose of my collected samples, then decided it would make no difference, surrounded as I was by the ominous lichen. They might make for a valuable alchemical ingredient on the surface, as I doubted anyone, apart from the local Troglodytes I had encountered, ventured into this deep realm. Indeed, if I was extremely fortunate, it might even be an ingredient to make a legendary potion. At the very least, I decided to refrain from physical contact with the lichen. Time to move on. Adjusting my bevor, which had begun to loosen, I rolled my shoulders and started up once again. One foot in front of another, I walked at a steady pace that ate up the distance until I finally came to fork. From the left, I could feel the flowing air caress my cheek and from the right I swore I heard the echo of¡­ cats fighting? A ridiculous thought. Still, the goddess had suggested that I should choose the left path. Despite my suspicions of Iasis¡¯ words, it was still the clear and obvious choice. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Choosing the left, I continued my slow ascent from this surreal and alien realm, my way lit now by more than just the light of my Holy Aura. A part of me almost missed Zala¡¯s inane chatter, and accompanying this thought came a small twinge of guilt. No doubt she would have warned me of the dangers of Beron¡¯s Dream, not that I would have chosen a different path. Almost imperceptibly, as step followed step, the strange purple and green glows began to disappear as the path inclined ever upwards. Air was moving faster now, more than just the ghost of a breeze, cool against my face as it blew past me. Without the mineral and lichen glow, the ambience outside my circle of light was reduced to a dark gray. Dull-colored crystal growths began to appear as sharp thin squarish blocks with odd spikes, lining the walls. Milky white, they sullenly refracted my emitted light. A quick Identify later revealed them to be simple salt crystals, but the how and why of their formation here was a mystery to me. I smashed one out of the wall with a stiff kick, to keep as a souvenir and seasoning for later. I resumed my march uphill through this dark pathway. Was it me, or was it that the air in this place, where the salt crystals bloomed, had begun to lighten, making the atmosphere less oppressive? The path grew wider, finally giving me enough room to swing the proverbial cat. There was a whistle now to the wind, bringing with it, I hoped, the promise of potential sunlight and sky. Soon, stone gave way to familiar white sand and I knew that I had almost escaped my dark hell. There, ahead of me, was a patch of lightened gray that I rushed to with a new joy. The gray had been refracted light from the minerals embedded in the rocky walls, however, when I looked to my left I was finally gifted with the first hints that the light was not my own. A singular speck, a glorious speck, of blessed natural light shone gloriously like a faraway star. I continued on, at a fast jog, as the speck grew ever larger. Creatures moved away from me, small things that looked like desert rats with large elephantine ears. They chirped in annoyance at having to give way to me, an interloper in their kingdom. Natural light, a soft silver, contested with my Aura in providing illumination. With the singular goal of escape, I kept on walking, until there was no more ceiling, just the vast expanse of starlit heavens. No longer was I treading the ancient darkness within the bowels of the earth, but the pleasant dark of the old night. I knelt in the cool sands of the Whispering Wastes, feeling a certain sense of dry relief. Then the reality of it all hit me. I had, at last, emerged. Book 3: The Return* On the fairest of morns, mariners whisper of glimpsing Heaven''s Pillar across the shimmering expanse of the Glass Fire Sea. I have beheld it with my own eyes. During a voyage to document the courage of those seafarers who dare the perilous waves, I saw it rise up from beyond the horizon. Truly, it stands as a shadowy column, stretching toward the heavens, as its namesake suggests. It is doubtful that nature alone sculpted such a wonder, yet its origin remains shrouded in mystery - perhaps it is a creation of the gods themselves or simply created by the hands of men? Its true essence remains unknown, for to date, no soul has traversed the Glass Fire and returned to tell the tale. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. Being alone with no companions, under an alien sky, brought with it a minor spell of agoraphobia, as my world expanded with the heavens above. It took me a few moments to gather myself as I took in the breathtaking view. Under the midnight stars, I started the mental maintenance of sorting out the tangled knot of my emotions and taking general stock. Looking across the dunes of Wastes, I saw a familiar straight, dark line, cutting across the silver sands in the distance. It was the Samasutum, the Green Road, the only familiar landmark in the desert, and the only hope of reuniting with my companions. I have never been great with judging distance, as the translation from abstract measurements to a good approximation was a difficult task for me. Even so, I estimated the distance to the river to be around half a day¡¯s walk. With the greater part of my reserves of Stamina remaining, my body was willing, but my mind sought rest, stretched to the limit as it was. I longed for the healing void that only true slumber could bring. However, to sleep so close to the gates of my personal hell would be a fool¡¯s choice, and night would be the best time to travel. With an almost full moon high in the sky, it would be easy to navigate across the sands. And so, with a mental prod, I began my tiring trek. I was driven by a will to live, and a fear of death, and underlying all of that, an ambition to be something more. After all, I was brought to this world for a reason, but it would be up to me to find my destiny. Or to create one, free from the meddling of those more powerful than I. So I plodded on, up and down the dunes, while the shifting sands under my feet sapped my Stamina at a greater rate than I had thought it would. Climbing a particularly difficult dune, I spent a minute or so just getting my breath back. It was no doubt cold, but my exertions fuelled an inner fire that kept me warm. A wondrous, if a little worrying, sight filled my eyes as I looked across the vast expanse before me. In the pale light, I spied a group of creatures cutting through the air, a meter or so above the sands. Diamond-shaped bodies that were flat and thin made, and twin tails, whisking through the air, resembling a school of manta rays. The expanse played merry havoc with my already poor sense of distance, so I could not truly judge the size of the manta ray analogues correctly. Also, they were well beyond the range of my Identify, not that it would have given me any useful insights. Still, it would have served to satisfy some of my curiosity and, at the very least, would give a name to these creatures. Once they had disappeared far over the dune, I resumed my plodding walk toward the Green Road. Careful not to stumble, I made my descent down the slope of the dune before making another climb up the next. This pattern repeated itself until the first light broke over the horizon to the east. The silver of the Green Road changed into a yellowish orange and the stars of the night sky were dispelled with the new pastel dawn. As time passed, these colors, in turn, gave way to a clean azure blue as the sun made her presence known. Even at this early hour, the cold of the night was swiftly being overcome. I was grateful for the scraps that remained of my tatty robe, for they would provide some protection from the sun¡¯s rays. However, with my high Constitution, I was pretty sure I could survive, even in a furnace, for a good amount of time. The dry desert heat did, however, sap what moisture I had, and I had to drink often and deeply from my supplies. The water I had acquired from the underground lake tasted acrid and unpleasant, the metallic notes reminding me of the taste of old blood. Then I noticed something odd as I drank a mouthful of stale, leathery water. I observed a thin, wavy line that reached up into the sky. Initially, I believed it to be a mirage, a deception of the eyes on the brain. However, unlike a mirage, as I got closer, the vision remained. It was a column of smoke, and here in the Whispering Wastes, it could mean only one thing, the presence of people. Encouraged with new purpose, my stride lengthened as I walked towards the source of the smoke. An hour passed, or it could have been two, and my eyes were greeted with a flashing glint of something reflecting the sun¡¯s light. A minute or so later, there was another glint, this time closer. I thought that this could be the flash of metal, and here on the sands of this desert, the presence of metal meant the presence of people. Worried now, I paced myself and watched my Stamina. I wanted to be able to face whoever it was, and have the ability to swing my weapon a few times. I played with the idea of simply stopping and observing to conserve my Stamina. However, this thought was born from my old way of life. My soft way of life. An excuse to procrastinate when facing a difficult or delicate situation. My Stamina was a non-factor, as a quick glance at my Status confirmed. At around three-quarters full, there was plenty of gas in the tank, so to speak. I would act and investigate. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Perhaps it was my Endure skill, but I felt the extreme temperatures of the desert much less. In full armor, no less. Another hour passed, and I saw dots moving towards me on an intercept course, and the glint of exposed metal flashed again, this time markedly closer. Long hours passed, and the dots resolved into indistinct figures. Wait, was one of them waving at me? I squinted my eyes, trying to confirm what I suspected. Was the heatwave over the sands playing tricks with my eyes? Should I even wave back? The figures were growing clearer, as if becoming a higher resolution. I fancied I saw a familiar blonde on an even more familiar frame. After a good while, the larger figure detached itself from the group, coming at me at a loping run that ate up the distance between us. It could have only been Kidu, as he whooped and hollered in a booming voice that could have only belonged to my old companion. Exhausted, both mentally and physically, I could not return his enthusiasm. I could only plod on, drawing to the next fated moment, my mind a whirl with the fact of the reality before me. Eventually, we made our way to each other across the scalding sands. ¡°By the blood of the gods! It is you!¡± exclaimed the wild man, running up to me and clasping my shoulder. He was almost quivering with joy and excitement. Like a dog that had been too long without its master. My voice betrayed me, a stutter I did not know I had, stopping me from formulating a response. I simply nodded in acknowledgment before forcing out a reply. ¡°H¡­ how long has it been?¡± The weakness in my voice was a surprise, even to me. ¡°Five days and four nights since the Earth Dragon came¡­ Just as the warmlander woman dreamed,¡± began Kidu in a rumbling voice that was cut off suddenly by a childish squeal of delight. ¡°I told you! It¡¯s Gil! ¡± an annoying high-pitched voice exclaimed, a voice that could have only belonged to Larynda. ¡°You will have to tell me all¡­ later,¡± I panted, before taking the last swig of water from one of my recently acquired water skins. I looked at Larynda, who was almost bouncing with enthusiasm, pointing at me and whispering to Cordelia, her energy almost infectious. Cordelia met my eyes, with a beatific grace, before she went down on bended knee in the hot sand. ¡°It is just like the vision, praise be the Goddess,¡± she intoned in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, as if she doubted the reality before her. That, more than anything, stirred a little phantom of worry in my gut. A zealot doubting their faith was as dangerous as one in the throes of religious experience. Even now, was Avaria still pulling at the threads, like a spider at the center of its web? I thought on the Goddess. After sending me to this blasted world she had the temerity to withdraw her Grace. I raged at the unfairness of it all. Would it be best if I ended Cordelia here and now? Yes, it would be a waste but¡­ ¡°¡­for the better part of the day we rode the great worm before, exhausted, it sought the deeper sands. For the first time in my life, I was lost¡­¡± Kidu continued with his explanation. ¡°But thanks to me, I led us back to the river! I got water for us when we got all hot and thirsty! Then¡­ then¡­¡± chirped Larynda, in what she probably thought of as a helpful manner. ¡°We thought that you would head back to the Green Road. We found Pakum there, along with Elwin. By the grace of the Goddess, none of them were injured, apart from a few minor hurts. Truly a miracle. Now, the pair wait for us with nary a scratch on them, with the main part of our supplies, closer to the Samasutum. It was Kidu who ordered them to keep a signal fire lit at all times,¡± the warrior woman clarified, giving a nod of respect and acknowledgment to the large man. ¡°After rejoining the caravan for supply, we spent the next day searching for you. In a moment of weakness, I feared you lost. Then that same night, in my most troubled sleep, Avaria gave me a vision of you fighting the dread minions of the underworld. I saw you walking here along the sands, and so as Avaria showed me, it has come to pass.¡± Cordelia had been receiving visions, again? I could not help but feel worried. Did this put me into Avaria¡¯s debt? A being that I truly despised, and the source of all of my troubles. ¡°Minions of the underworld!? Hah! If that is true, you go to places where no normal mortal may walk. Your legend only grows. If only I could have been with you¡­ not that riding a Guardian is not also worthy of song. If only I had learned more of the womanly arts, I could make an epic of our deeds!¡± guffawed Kidu, his laugh throaty. ¡°I will tell you all about it, but I would feel better if I did it in a setting that was a touch more comfortable.¡± I inserted, hoping that they got my drift. I still needed a little time to process and digest this little reunion. Sensing my intent, Cordelia was quick to support me. ¡°Of course, Hera¡­ Gilgamesh. Come now, let us be on our way. There will be time enough for your account later,¡± she said, her voice filled with new authority. What were the chances? To be attacked by a great worm, only to be separated from my companions, and then to reunite with them in this vast expanse? A part of me almost expected a gain in my Luck attribute, such were the odds against this fortuitous turn of events. It all seemed so very scripted, like I was indeed part of a game. It all seemed, well, rather convenient. This could only be Divine intervention, again. Looking back, the whole encounter with Iasis had a certain element of theatre to it bordering on pantomime. It had been orchestrated. Only through the strength of my arms, my magical might, and my own good fortune did I prevail. Or, so I liked to believe. Though ultimately glad that things had turned out the way they did, I could not quite shake off a feeling of dread. Beneficial, or not, there was the question of free will against the greater powers. It was a dangerous thing when the eyes of the gods were upon you. Book 3: Excuses [Part 1]* The Festival of the Undrawn, also known as the Contest of the Saints, is an annual event held in the City of Dust, Al-Lazar. Warriors from all over the continent, and occasionally from beyond, travel here to test their mettle against each other. From this pool of brave fighters, the Shareholder families of the great city frequently select their guards and entourage. In the fabled times of yore, it is whispered that certain noble families ventured beyond the confines of tradition, choosing their consorts from among these gallant fighters to fortify their dynasties. Various businesses of the city often sponsor a fighter to bring these minor houses of trade some measure of prestige. Winning the tournament is a tremendous honor. Yet, for the Shareholder families, the triumph of a fighter they have chosen is more than a mere victory. It is an investment of prestige that pays dividends in influence at the city¡¯s Council, giving their voice greater weight, especially in matters of war. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. In a rare moment of introspection, my thoughts danced across the fading memories of my old world, as together, we walked on warming sands. At this juncture of my life, no doubt many of my old circle of friends would falsely label me a sociopath, others would hit closer to the mark of a psychopath, and the even less imaginative would call me a narcissist. I would prefer to think of myself as something far more noble, I was a survivor. Evidence to this fact, I had survived all of the ridiculous trials and tribulations that this game had thrown at me. Who cared about those fair-weather friends anyway? I doubt any of them would have been of any use to me in this world. And, the simple natural progression of survival, the ultimate expression of it, was immortality. It was not fear that drove me on this quest, but a need for simply more time to do the things I wanted to do. To have time and opportunity to balance the scales of my misery, I thought to myself, eyes focusing ahead. Kidu led the way ahead of us, his long stride eating up the distance. Every now and again he would stop and wait for us to catch up, a vague tic of annoyance occasionally playing about on his rocky features. Worried, he had offered me a Healing potion. I refused his offer as politely as I could, my magic more than enough to see to my well-being. Shrugging his massive shoulders, he explained to me that they had made a temporary camp while they had searched for me. According to him, the caravan was a day¡¯s travel ahead, and Laes had agreed to wait only for a week before he would have to resume travel. It was lucky that they had found me when they did. Along the way, Cordelia had whispered prayers over and over, eyes closed as she offered her supplication to her goddess. I felt a tingle of radiance, holy energy, wash over me. It was a similar sensation to my own Heal spell, but there was no holy song nor angelic light. Out of a corner of one eye, I saw Larynda try and copy Cordelia, only to completely fail. This drew a beatific smile from the Temple Knight, satisfied as she was that her goddess had answered her prayer. It was more than the words of a chant that gave one control of magic, I concluded. An hour or two passed, and the distinctive shape of a huge Xaruar was now clear to see. Another hour and we were close enough that I could hear the river. We had arrived at my companions¡¯ temporary camp. A man wrapped out in a collection of loose flowing cloth walked out with a sauntering gait to meet us. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Well¡­ well¡­ if it isn¡¯t the man blessed by the luck of all the gods. Avaria¡¯s tits, you really did survive getting gobbled down by a Guardian! Not that I doubted for a moment!¡± Elwin half-shouted in obvious joy, before he ran the last few paces to give me an uncomfortable hug. I had never been comfortable with public displays of affection, preferring to keep an appropriate social and physical distance away from people. ¡°What¡¯s with¡­ your attire? I almost didn¡¯t recognize you¡­¡± I inquired once he was done with his public outburst. Holding up his arms to display his new garments, he began to explain. ¡°These¡­ a bit hot now around these parts. The Raven folk started wearing ¡®em, and I thought why not? They looked a bit hot, but surely they can¡¯t be worse than a thick padded jacket. In fact, surprisingly cool. Course, you look as if a giant sandworm swallowed you up and spat you out!¡± he added with a grin. Unable to think of a witty rejoinder, I just gave him a weak smile in response. I took a quick glance at what was left of my brown robe, my garment that had survived encounters with monsters and gods. It was definitely on its last legs. Elwin, I knew, was speaking the truth, I really did look a mess. As for the Rogue, he was wearing garb that was a close approximation to the desert clothes of Bedouin tribes of Earth. The loose-fitting cloth helped the air to circulate, hence keeping the body cool. These clothes also protected people from the hot winds and dust storms. I would have to see about acquiring some once we rejoined the Ravens. Still, a part of me could not help but feel that it looked a little silly on him. He looked, at least to my eyes, like a tourist trying on the local costume. As for Larynda, it seemed that the heat did not touch her in the slightest. No doubt due to her recent mastery of the element of water. Cordelia, as always, looked beautiful, despite being in full armor. Only a single line of sweat on her delicate brow was the evidence of the heat or physical exertion. It was actually the stolid Kidu that worried me the most. He was sweating buckets, his dreadlocks drenched. The heat was most definitely taking its toll on him. Larynda offered him a water flask, which he proceeded to gulp down. It was to his great credit that he did not offer a word of complaint, and inside I found myself respecting his stoicism. Or was it simply a form of youthful bravado? Hopefully, he would not suffer from heatstroke. Obsequiously, Pakum walked up to me and offered a bow. ¡°Welcome back, Honored One,¡± he offered in a nasal voice, bowing deeply. He held both his hands out, and for a stupid moment, I thought that he was waiting for a tip. An awkward few seconds later, I realized he wanted to relieve me of the silly amount of water skins and bags I had about my person. Gratefully, I fulfilled his wish. What was surprising was that I barely felt the difference. Had I turned into the human variant of a pack mule? Much lighter of spirit, I started towards the river to splash my face, only to spy Patches staked down next to Pakum¡¯s sleeping Xaruar and our mounts. A stab of guilt spiked through my heart, for I had barely spared a thought to my equine companion. Walking down to check on her, my hand unconsciously reached for treats inside my pack that weren¡¯t there. Shaking my head at my old man moment, I settled for giving her a good stroke. Delighted, she gave my gauntlets a good licking. ¡°Forgive me, Master Gilgamesh, but the caravan waits for us upriver. I fear that it is best that we rejoin with them,¡± suggested Cordelia from behind me. Though I longed to just simply rest, I had an image to maintain. If Kidu could endure the heat then I could deal with a ride. Book 3: Excuses [Part 2] Up on my mount, I relished the vista before me. In the time I had spent under the earth, the desert had bloomed. Expanding from beyond the banks of the straight river was an explosion of life. The bleached sands had given way to a lush carpet of grass, and large horsetails that rivaled trees had sprung up. The land was so vibrant with life and raw vitality that every glance revealed movement. Animals had awoken from their annual slumber, frolicking among the greenery. Were it not for the endless expanse of barren sand at the edge of my vision, it would have made a mockery of the name, ¡®The Whispering Wastes¡¯. Cordelia and Elwin rode ahead of us, and I rode alongside Kidu and Pakum on their Xaruar. Behind the large proto-dragon, Larynda rode on Patches, a big smile on her face. Pakum had erected a large covering over the Xaruar, supported by poles attached to the saddle or howdah of the creature. This provided both him and our Hunter a measure of refuge against the sun. Curious to the reasons for my salvation, I decided to ask Pakum a question, ¡°Why did you not search for me while riding? Surely, that would have been the best way to go about it? And, just how were you able to find me anyways?¡± It was then that the Xaruar decided to pause for a moment as if it was considering my question before chomping down on some new greenery. Pakum, annoyed, idly tapped his riding cane against the large creature''s head, causing it to give up its snack. ¡°With all respect, Honored One, the sands where they found you, in that direction from the Samasutum, are treacherous. Not flat and hard like they are along the river. Uncle Abas says it is because of the roots of the old growth that the sand is different there. The sands beyond the river¡¯s claim is different. Some is soft, some hard. Rocky in places, others not. The mounts would be more a liability than anything in the Wastes proper. In the Wastes, the sands are always shifting, making it difficult for horses to maintain their footing, exhausting them, or leading them to injury. Let alone one with a rider. Ramal here, more so,¡± he answered, pointing affectionately to the big lizard. ¡°Your people would have been forced to walk them. Also, I would be beaten for risking the animals so. I hope that answers your first question to your satisfaction. It was a miracle that we were able to find you. I prayed for you every day,¡± he added with complete earnestness. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. I had suspected something along those lines. Walking across the sands had indeed been a slog. The undulating dunes, rocky and gravelly at times, had been difficult, even for me, to traverse. This sort of terrain would have been difficult for the horses. ¡°And to your second question. Lady Dazerac, she had a revelation that you were alive and well. She told us where to look for you. Not that I doubted, of course. Ankhset¡¯s apprentice would also have been able to sense you, too, of this I am sure,¡± he answered with a straightforward solemnity. I found myself liking the kid. He answered directly, and there was nary a hint of deception or obfuscation about his manner. However, his answer to my second question was troubling, confirming Cordelia¡¯s ramblings to be more than the exclamation of a believer going through a religious experience. It was indeed worrying that my ¡°salvation¡± had been due to powers outside of my control. But, had it been more Cordelia or Larynda? Larynda, at the cost of some of my pride, I could stomach. Cordelia, on the other hand, meant that still, the goddess was pulling invisible strings as part of some inscrutable plan. For a moment, it looked as though Larynda had something to add, but I turned away, pretending not to notice... I simply could not deal with anything else at the moment. I needed time to unwind and decompress. Also, I was sure that she would find a way to tell me whatever was on her mind later anyway, as was the annoying nature of children. Book 3: On the Road Again War is the result of a quandary to which no solution can be found. - From the diary of Damien de Savant. The air was moist, a juxtaposition to the dry desert breeze that came from the west. The new growth that had taken over this part of the sands could not completely hide the passage of the Ravens¡¯s wagons. My new Tracking skill, low level as it was, gave me a greater clarity in my interpretation of the land. Little things that I had never noticed before, or paid little attention to, came to a stark focus as my eyes roved over them. Browning grass showed where a Xaruar had lain for the night, creating its bed from the crush of leaves. Broken stems here and hoofprints there told me of where the horses had been staked down for the night. ¡°There¡¯s jus¡¯ a bit further downright!¡± exclaimed Larynda, a bright and innocent smile brightening her features. The young half-elf looked carefree and I could see that a little of the permanent darkness and tension that had been about her was now gone. I was just about to grunt a reply when I saw something moving under the folds of her loose clothes. For a moment, I thought that some new and alien horror would burst out of the little girl. I was to be partially right. Brown beady eyes popped out, looking out at the world from just under the little girl¡¯s chin. A whiskered nose on a soft-furred face sniffed at the air. Its nose turned in my direction and its little eyes caught sight of me. The rodent, sensing a dangerous presence, retreated under the folds of her clothes. It was the Whispermews, Larynda¡¯s new pet. ¡°Stop that, Bubbles! Stay still, already!¡± chided Larynda, laughing gently as she did so. ¡°I see you are taking care of my gift,¡± I commented, rolling my shoulders to let loose a little of the tension. ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s great! Stop that, you. Not you I mean,¡± she continued. ¡°I think he¡¯s just scared. He¡¯s a really good boy and doesn¡¯t usually act like this. And thanks for Bubbles, he really is the best!¡± ¡°Take good care of it¡­ him. All life is important,¡± I returned lamely, wanting to end our conversation. I looked towards the other members of my little team, Kidu and Pakum, but they both seemed to just ignore our little exchange. The boy''s eyes were fixed on the path upriver, guiding his charge with his stick. Kidu was nibbling on a piece of jerky to while away the time, looking much like a man who was enjoying a pleasant safari. I had told my companions a very highly edited version of my time beneath the earth. Something in the back of my mind told me that giving them the full uncensored version would not have been the wisest of choices. Noticing Elwin¡¯s typical reaction to some of my accounts, I did not need much convincing. There had been no encounter with a fell goddess, nor the harrowing divine ordeal that had come with that. It was one of those circumstances where the truth was far far less believable than a convenient lie. No, the tale I gave them simply involved me finding my way to the surface, fighting through an underground cave system filled with monsters and bloody-thirsty locals. With the exception of Cordelia and Kidu, they received my account with various degrees of skepticism. However, for the most part, It was gladdening that they had looked for me. It almost gave me back my faith in this world¡¯s people. Almost. ***** It was early morning when we finally rejoined the caravan. Along the sandy banks of the Green Road, a thin mist was struggling feebly against the rising desert sun. The vehicles of the train were arranged into a circular formation on the left bank of the river, a plume rising from a large cooking fire at its center. One of the scouts let out a cry, causing the caravan to bestir itself like an anthill under attack. Once the commotion had died down, Laes and Khalam rode out to meet us, an equal mix of relief and disbelief. I had already played out this encounter a few times in my mind, and I was of two minds as to how I would deal with the Ravens. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I was under the impression that Laes had wanted to continue on to Al-Lazar, taking Larynda with him to fulfill his promise to Hamsa. However, against his wishes, the small half-elf had been most obstinate, and her protestations had been backed up by a mountain of a man, a former, presumed, assassin, and a warrior-knight of the Goddess herself. In the end, a compromise was reached. The caravan would wait a little way upriver, and my companions had been given a week to search for me. Anything more than a week would have meant that the sands had truly claimed me. It was a cold calculation, but an understandable one. Overall, I found myself respecting his choice. Still, a small part of it did not sit well with me. It was very different when one being affected was you, and not some stranger who was half a world away. ¡°Master Gilgamesh, by the Goddess you have returned. I must confess that I harbored certain doubts. Rare are those who survive an encounter with a Guardian,¡± he studied my face, searching for answers. ¡°Rarer still for one of them to come from so close to the Green Road. This year the Green Road has been especially strong and, running water, it is an anathema to them. What could have made a Sand Father¡­ ¡± ¡°What indeed?¡± the old Guard Master Khalam added a little acerbically, giving me a knowing look. ¡°I say that we¡­¡± ¡°Enough!¡± commanded Laes, his usual veneer of restraint and control vanishing like the morning mist. ¡°Must you shame me so! We have talked enough of this. Enough, I say!¡± ¡°But Laes, my duty is to the train¡­¡± Khalam began to blurt like a child. ¡°And I am its leader. You would do well to not forget whose coin you take?¡± ¡°And what of signs!? You know I learned a little from my brother of the River God¡¯s Pattern. It was how I rose high in the ranks. Nothing but misfortune dogs our trail and, Caravan Master Laes, you know well the reason why,¡± retorted the old man, bristling. ¡°Must you bring this up again, it is unseemly,¡± hissed Laes, growing ever more upset. I could see why. He was losing face in front of, what basically was, the hired help. Gripping his reins tightly, Khalam seethed like a boy who had been censored by his teacher, but he held back a reply, instead shooting me another scathing glare. I had always felt that the snake had borne a simmering resentment towards me, and this just cemented those feelings into fact. ¡°By the blessing of the Goddess, we have returned, Master Laes, Master Khalam. As it was foreordained,¡± interjected Cordelia cooly. Almost immediately the heat left Khalam, leaving him unbalanced. ¡°Mistress de Aserac, with all due respect¡­¡± he began before I decided to add my piece. ¡°I have it on good authority that the Guardians will not bother us,¡± I stated simply, causing the old Guard Master¡¯s perpetual frown to deepen. The man really needed to learn to let things go. ¡°On what authority¡­ would you presume that the¡­¡± Laes placed a hand on Khalam¡¯s shoulder, and didn¡¯t say a word. His touch was not particularly heavy, nor violent in its nature, but it was finally enough to shut him up. I relished my next words, ¡°On the authority of the Goddess herself,¡± I stated simply as if I was making a note of the weather. It was a fact after all. This caused everyone to pause for a moment. No doubt, coming from anyone else, these would be the words of a madman touched by the desert sun. These were, however, the words of a man touched by the Goddess, though which Goddess I had opted not to divulge. It felt good to turn the native¡¯s backward thinking against them. Laes gave his second a quick look before he bowed slightly. ¡°If Master Gilgamesh says it is so¡­ who are we to doubt the benevolence of the Goddess. Understand that as you place your trust in the Goddess, my people trust in me. I have a duty to them. I could wait no longer than a week. I hope you can understand this,¡± confessed the horse-faced man. Had I not needed him and his people to get me to Al-Lazar, to my silly quest, I would have cut him from neck to navel, a feat I was sure that, with my current physical prowess, I could achieve. ¡°Your display of faith is most heartwarming,¡± replied Cordelia cooly, taking his near-blasphemy in her stride. ¡°Welcome Master Gilgamesh. Like me, there are others who are glad of your return,¡± finished the caravan master, gesturing to some familiar shapes that had started to walk out to meet us from the circle of caravans. The familiar figures bridged the gap between us. Each face, etched with relief and palpable joy, belonged to people I knew well. Among them, one sight stood out, soothing the pain I endured. A pretty woman, eyes alight with happiness, covered her mouth in a joyful shriek before sprinting towards me. Book 3: Falsehood [Part 1]* The pursuit of the ultimate, perfect justice, above all, will simply lead to just more injustice. - The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC. It was an emotional reunion. Abas Yar ran up to Pakum and gave him a gruff hug before ruffling his head proudly. Seeing this, I had to stop myself from doing the same to Dumuzi¡¯s mop of hair as he, too, ran up to me. A second later, Catalina threw herself at me, disregarding the dirt and smell, and crushing herself against me. Relief filled me then, and almost for a moment, it felt like I had come home. ¡°You¡¯re back¡­ I always knew you would be back,¡± Catalina whispered passionately in my ear. For some reason, her words brought me back to the reality of my situation. That I was stuck in this barbaric world, forced to fight, to risk my life¡­ for what? Bitterness found its way, seeping in through the cracks of my heart and staining the happiness of this moment. A bitterness that I could feel growing into a sharper, more deadly emotion. Hate. ***** Optimism. It ran irresponsibly through the air of the train, infecting all of the workers with renewed vigor. People moved a touch faster, carried a little more, and all without Laes haranguing them to greater effort. To survive an encounter with a Guardian was a heroic feat, to ride one, a thing of legends. Men looked at my companions and I with new respect, bordering now on awe. If there had been any doubt that I was a servant of the Goddess before, it had been laid to rest now. From the general mood and snippets of conversation I overheard, my return was overwhelmingly viewed in a positive light. Except for some obvious outliers, it had convinced most of the Ravens that the gods were watching over us. I liked to convince myself that, had Laes decided to press on and abandon me, he would have faced a mutiny. In the coming days, I would have much time to mull over this, the thought stewing in my mind. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. ***** The next day the caravan set off, with two of the larger bull Xaruar at the front to trample down the new growth of giant cottontail and ferns that had seemingly sprung up overnight. The going was slower now as the lead animals were rotated, and the larger obstacles were moved aside to allow for easier passage. Where the Xaruar failed to trample, white five-petalled flowers had begun to bloom along vines that ran across the ground. If one strayed too close to these blossoms they would explode in a burst of pollen, staining one¡¯s clothes with yellow powder. Apart from being a source of mirth for the children, these flowers were uncharacteristically harmless. The name of these flowers was False-Dusters, for they resembled the fabled Dust Flowers of the city of Al-Lazar. Indeed, every now and again an enterprising merchant would take samples of these plants and try to grow them with some measure of success. However, unlike the real Dust Flowers of Al-Lazar, their pollen produced no lucid dreams, and in fact, had no real alchemical properties at all. Still, it did not stop some of the more unscrupulous from trying to pass it off as real Dust. All of this I heard from the people of the Ravens. They came to me now, with greetings and snippets from their little unimportant lives. Nothing useful for my quest. I welcomed them all with a false smile and a few words of wisdom, stolen from my old world. This was enough to satisfy them for now, but I found the incessant interactions grating at times and it was a sore test for my patience. Catalina, too, had begun to test me. Her attachment to me had become clear, and she no longer made a show of hiding it. Indeed, she made a little show of it, using it to gain social standing with the other womenfolk of the caravan. This, in turn, made her bedtime ramblings a little longer, her questions trickier, as if she was seeking a form of commitment, trying to trap me. I hated it when people tried to force me down a path I did not travel. Having faced Death so many times, I found I had lost many of my inhibitions. At night, I wallowed in sin and forced my desires upon her. She bore my lust with a brave face and a weak, wan smile that only further inflamed me. In my selfishness, I simply did not care, for in those moments I could forget about the Divines, their cursed Grace, and my quest for the eternal. It was as if the act of release, in and of itself, was a ward against one of the fears that drove me. Hopefully, she would warm my bed until Al-Lazar, at least, but until then I had to simply put up with it. Now, I finally understood the universal complaints of men who just wanted a simple life. When I grew tired of spending the evenings with her, I would make an excuse that it was, in fact, my duty to patrol. Using this gifted time, I would instead spend it with the men of the guard, playing cards and gambling with dice. Initially, I of course avoided the poisonous alcoholic beverage arag whenever possible, only drinking the foul stuff when forced to. However, as time passed, I found myself drinking it anyway as a form of escape. Was this a simulation of married life? A nagging harpy waiting in my bed and a child that was not mine? I was far too young, of course, to be thinking about these things. Book 3: Falsehood [Part 2] The night patrols were uneventful, and I was often paired up with one of my companions. I took this time to learn a little more about them, in particular, what they could do. Elwin, was a dab hand at ¡®gray arts¡¯, what this world called the art of the assassination. He knew his way around most weapons, and more importantly, he knew ways of dealing with armored opponents. Where to run a knife to cut a leather strap, and the weak points of certain styles of armor. He told me of the blindspots, the restricted movements that plate, scale, or splint mail gave its users, and how a man might unhorse another. He reminded me that it was still a difficult feat, demonstrating the various techniques on me. They were at times painful lessons, but the knowledge that he imparted to me was valuable nonetheless. So valuable, in fact, that it caused my Heavy Armor skill to evolve into Improved Heavy Armor and gave me an additional point into Medium Armor. A most welcome bonus. Since we could not stop for a good length of time, I had to settle for the Raven¡¯s smith, Garven, to cold hammer out the dents as best as he could. More importantly, however, I was able to acquire a new quiver for my fancy crossbow and a new supply of iron bolts. He asked if I wanted a replacement for my lost shield, to which I refused, causing him to simply shrug. I had taken to wearing my mace-flail, Tsengelt-tum, on my hip in addition to my dagger. With my new ¡®toy¡¯, I spent quite a few of my evenings firing off and experimenting with one of my new abilities, Inferno Bolts, at the innocent wildlife, burning a few of them into charred husks. Testing revealed that it served like a sort of magical shortcut for using Rust on a projectile weapon. I could hold a throwing spear with an iron tip, cast the spell, and unlike Rust which activated immediately, the exothermic reaction would only start when it left my hand. Likewise, when cast on a crossbow bolt it did not begin to burn until it was launched. Once, I even nervously passed my fancy crossbow, after casting the spell, to Elwin. The bolt released did not undergo a fiery reaction, which I found to be odd. It looked like I would not be able to make a living from imbuing weapons with magical properties. Knowing how the magic worked now, the bolts flew from my crossbow like tracer rounds, lighting up the darkness with their incandescence. Regrettably, I was not able to hit as many as I would have liked. Most likely because I was relying on the added functionality of my Identify spell tracking my targets and my low-level Blind Fighting to even have, as they say, a shot in the dark. This was, however, a rather expensive hobby, and it was eating into my funds. Also, thanks to my pyrotechnic display, the local fauna was learning to stay clear from the presence of the train. However, a long Sandgorger had been slow on the uptake, and the lone bull attacked one of the guards. An Inferno Bolt through the monster¡¯s left eye made sure that we were eating frog that evening. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Despite the Raven¡¯s chef adding a lot of spice to the meal, I could not help but feel that it could have done with a bit more punch. It would have been boorish of me to have commented such, and I held my silence. The meal was still filling and good, and by the looks of satisfaction on my companion¡¯s faces, a cut above the normal fare that we were used to. It was a shame that the bolt also caused the guard, a man called Khasim, a few second and third-degree burns. Once I was sure there were no other easy targets, I decided to heal the man. I found myself in a good mood, for I had gained a point in both Inferno Bolt and Blind Fighting. Smirking to myself, I absently wondered that, were my Charisma higher, would it have been possible for me to even charge the man for my services in this gamified world? One might argue that it might have been partially the guard¡¯s fault for getting in the way of my bolt, after all. As always, the people of the Raven just took this all in with awe, my near-mythic status, and by proxy my companions, growing even more. Could I say that I had finally maxed out my reputation? Khalam, as always, was sour-faced and dour, giving me the worst shifts, the middle watch. I could not blame him, as I would have done the same in his position. Still, it was a little petty. However, to balance this, I was not without supporters among the Ravens. One particularly vocal example was Abas Yar, who walked now with new dignity and authority. The mark of my divine healing was clear for all to see. He was a walking monument to the grace of my blessing, and he would often sing my praises and proselytize my cause. More importantly, I think that he could, with his wealth of experience and social standing, actually replace Laes and Khalam if push came to shove. A new original notion that had a certain appeal to it. After all, I owed Laes next to nothing. For the moment it remained simply a hypothetical. For the moment, at least. The encounter with the Sandgorger was an ever-present reminder of the danger of hidden enemies. To this end, whenever I was paired with Kidu, I would always seek his advice and question why he did what did, and what he observed. It was rather educational, but due to Kidu¡¯s taciturn nature, much more difficult to elicit. Larynda, being a child, would, of course, not join us. Her time was spent studying the deeper mysteries of her element from the old witch, Ankhset. Any free time she had during the day, either Elwin, Kidu, or Cordelia would train her how to defend herself. That, or she would play with the other children, which in itself, was a form of training. The childish games of long ago were more violent than the typical things we enjoy in our modern times, and these games resembled a barbaric throwback to such times. Children would, and did, get hurt. However, pain is a swift teacher, and I could see that Larynda was growing faster, if not just a little stronger. On occasion, Cordelia would bless us with her company. A welcome thing indeed, for she was strong and skilled. A rare thing for a woman in this world, or my last one. Her sword, when she had occasion to draw it, flowed with efficiency and grace that were at odds with her youthful appearance. They were moves that one would associate with a master at the peak of their craft. It was more than the magic blade that she wielded, it was something that was intrinsically her. There was nothing in our path that she could not cut down, and she did so with neither anger nor joy staining the clean movements of her blows. It was a beautiful thing to watch. Book 3: In the Shadow of the Peacock Throne [Part 1] One can not engage in debate without first understanding your opponent''s exact position. - A Quassian Aphorism. The woman who looked back at her through the glass was not the same girl who had left for the Grieving Lands months ago. It felt like centuries to her. They said that time did not touch the First Children, but they, of course, were lying. It was in her eyes, she noted, a shadow within that held the signs of the passage of the years. The truth of time''s toll was etched deep within her gaze, a haunted hollow that no sunny day or joyful song could truly fill. Nor could wine for that matter, she mused with a bitter twist of her lips as she put down a goblet encrusted with fine opal. She toyed with a blonde curl, twirling it absently around her finger, as her handmaidens fussed over her. It was a nervous habit from her childhood that she could never quite grow out of. Her thoughts were snared by what was to come. She had been summoned to stand before the throne, and a summon in the wake of failure could mean only one thing. Punishment. Lady Arimea of the ancient house of Lostariot was worried. Very worried, indeed. Arimea entertained the idea of fleeing to the far and deep woods, to truly live with the trees, as her more rustic cousins had a penchant for doing. After all, she could hear the song of Mana. How different could it be from hearing the voice of Wood, the tune of sap and sunlight? Not too different, if her reading of the old texts was correct. But there was a shadow, a long and terrible shadow, that cast itself on such a choice. For if she chose such a path, the Immortals of the Eternal Court, the king¡¯s personal guard and faithful hounds, would pursue her. And should they ever catch her, her end would be a grim one, indeed. No, fleeing was not an option. As with many of life''s quandaries, the solution lay not in running away. Her pride and dignity would not allow her to. She stood up and spread her arms to allow her ladies to apply the last adjustments to her formal dress. When she saw that they were finished, she shooed them off. The next part was something she wanted to do for herself. The young elven woman, youthful at least by the standards of her race, took up a finely made sword sheathed in Sea Serpent leather scabbard. She drew it, taking a moment to appreciate the wavey forms that ran along the curved blade. A single-edged blade that ended in a deadly, razor-sharp tip. Among the lesser races of the world, the art of sword adornment varied greatly. A gold-adorned hilt, a finely decorated scabbard, or the splendor of a jeweled pommel were, more often than not, the most common embellishments. Conversely, the elven artisans devoted their mastery to the blade''s inherent beauty. Although held perfectly still in her hand, the blade looked as if it was the perfect metaphor for flow, the temper lines mirroring the waves of a cutting sea. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Arimea never had an affinity for the sword, and the weapon was merely part of her social costume. For most of her life, its solid weight at her hip was nothing more than a reassurance. What use had she of learning how to fight with long bits of sharp metal? However, she had been taught a lesson in the foreign lands. ¡°Perhaps I should do the weapon the honor of learning its use someday?¡± she whispered to herself, hoisting the baldric over her shoulder. In honor of the craftsman¡¯s efforts, if nothing else. Also, if truth be told, she enjoyed the idle titters it caused at court, the martial statement it made at her hip was a contrast to her otherwise very feminine and proper appearance. Arimea made the last adjustments, tightening a few straps and buckles in the way that Lorsan had taught her years ago. She had witnessed swordmasters in combat, their movements more akin to a dance than a true battle. The bearers of the Mantis Mark, the mark of one who had truly mastered his weapon, were rare, and to observe two such masters of their craft in a duel was a rarer event still. She had seen Lorsan test a challenger for the Mark once, clashing blades with one of the new generation to see if he was worthy. Even to her, the her who had once looked down at such martial displays, it had been a thing of grace and beauty. Arima had come back from the Grieving Lands wreathed in shame and failure, for she had been unable to fulfill her holy mission to end the life of an accursed half-blood child. The child¡¯s very existence was an insult to her people, and the prophecies of old and elven society demanded her death. Still, it was a simple quest. How difficult could it be to take the life of a child? The unexpected had happened. The abomination had had a guardian, a protector of sublime skill and ancient power. Even though she was a mongrel, the Hero had taken the half-blood under his protection. She had been made to realize that the test for the Mantis Mark had been nothing more than the playfighting of children aping adults. The old Alchemist Hamsa had taught her such. Of the entourage that had journeyed with her to the Grieving Lands, only Lorsan remained. Humility, ever a bitter draught, had become all the more unpalatable when poured by the hands of one''s foes. Even in this age, the humans, the pitiable day spawn, as they were called by the true elves, still had the foolish habit of spending what little time they were allotted on frustrating her people. Still, in the end, it was she who had slain the champion of the day spawn, the ancient enemy of her kind. To her knowledge, only he, the sum of all men, had overcome death¡¯s shadow. For him, and him alone, that dark spectre was nothing more than interlude. He was an existence that would come back again and again, like some persistent, loathsome mold. A soul that refused to pass across the Shallow River and into the Long Dream. It was a feat that none of the First Children had been able to replicate. To all intents and purposes, it had been the crowning triumph of her life, marred only by her failure to kill the half-blood. She had called to the spirits and they had answered her. She had formed the spirit of winter into a spear of ice, smashing through his frail heart and ending the day spawn¡¯s life. Almost as if answering a terrible blasphemy, the Alchemist''s shop erupted in a massive explosion that blasted her off her feet. Book 3: In the Shadow of the Peacock Throne [Part 2] But for all of her efforts, if the legends were true, were for naught. The human Hero would return. She touched the burn marks along her bare left arm, her marble skin blemished in several places with ugly scars that no amount of Elven sorcery could heal. Damn the humans and their pointless defiance. Could they not see that the First Children worked to stop another Cataclysm? Ever since that fateful day, and for mysterious reasons unknown, she felt that her connection to the elemental spirits of the land had grown stronger. She could summon the spirits faster and guide and direct them with even greater precision. Through this communion, she felt that she had come closer to finding the true meaning behind the song of the spirits, the song of Mana, or simply ¡®magic¡¯ as the lesser races called it. It gave some credence to the old theory that the gods rewarded great deeds. But these were old complaints and best left for another time. She could delay the direct summons no longer and she needed to focus on the now. She departed her chambers, making her way through the summer palace, the train of her formal dress unfurling a crimson wake behind her. Sunlight filtered through high-arched windows, acting almost like beacons that guided her steps. No one would meet her gaze, not Lady nor Lord, nor master or servant. All eyes were downcast in her presence. They all had, of course, had heard of her. The chittering whispers exchanged behind delicate fans that followed her passage were proof of that. Finally, she reached the oaken doors that led to the Court of the Ancestor Trees. Trees, as she had been told when she was young, by one of her tutors, were the only things that elves had any real affinity for. For only the stoic giants of the forest could hope to last as long as the First Children. But why not then the long-lived Dragons, why do the elves feel no affinity for the scaled tyrants of the skies? Why was their mark not on any elven design or heraldry? Her inquiry had earned her a casual slap for her impiety. The elves had no affinity with the dragons, and that was that. Further pursuit of the subject was met with cold stony silence at best and violent deflection at worst. She had felt that the answer had been a poor one, and the delivery poorer still, in its lack of respect for her station. Years later she had set matters right. Arimea smiled at the memory, savoring it like fine wine. Her vengeance had been a subtle one. A few well-placed rumors here, and a few pieces of ¡®evidence¡¯ placed there, resulted in her former teacher being accused and then judged guilty of trading in Witchwood with the humans. A most cardinal sin and crime. She had enjoyed watching him break under exquisite torture. As to breaking, it seemed the insolent guards lining the door to the Court were in dire need of it. They regarded her with disdain, their eyes passing over her as though she were naught but a fleck of dust, utterly unworthy of even a modicum of respect befitting her station. A woman of high birth such as herself should have been met with bows and deferential gestures, yet they stood unmoved, defying the very order and decorum upon which elven society thrived. It was yet another insult she was forced to bear. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Just as she thought of launching a scathing verbal attack, the guards, clad in intricately crafted armor of spelled bronze, finally parted the heavy oaken doors. Ignoring them completely, she stepped forward into the king¡¯s court. It almost seemed as though she had stepped into a great glade of an ancient forest. The elven court spread out before her, a space that dwarfed even the grandest of human cathedrals. At the far edges of the glade, giants stood sentinel, their bark and trunks conjoining to form the boundaries of the elven court. They were of the Witchwood, ancient magical trees, that seemed to almost bleed Mana, infusing the air with their pure energies. Above her, great leafy boughs arched and formed a canopy. Adorned with a mosaic of vivid fabrics, they cast dappled shadows upon the assembly below. Long banners hung from the lower branches, each representing one of the noble families. The very roots of the Witchwood twisted into seats for the court''s esteemed members, while between them, a lush carpet of emerald grass sprawled. A mixture of naturally and patiently guided growth, the heart of her people¡¯s realm, never failed to impress her. Then a great hush fell upon the court as the assembly noticed her presence, snuffing out any lingering murmurs of gossip. She was like a gust of wind, extinguishing a feeble candle''s flame. A man was waiting for her. A man who once had been straight, tall, and unblemished. Now he was scarred and hunched. Lorsan, the once-swordmaster of the court and former tutor of the king¡¯s children himself, hobbled towards her on a cane, ostensibly to give her support. He, who had once been a living legend, had been reduced to this. ¡°Lady Arimea,¡± he offered in greeting, giving her a small deferential nod of his head. A weak escort, but an escort nonetheless. She would take any support she could get in this den of vipers. ¡°Lorsan,¡± she returned curtly, for her attention was arrested by the sight before her. It was as spectacular now as it was when she first had the honor to be presented here. Moving deeper into the court, Arimea could hear the Witchwood¡¯s song. It was a steady symphony born from the trees, more felt than truly heard, as the trees gathered the melody of sunlight, turning it into life and energy. But how exactly the trees drew sustenance from the light was a process that, to this day, confounded the wisest of Elven sages. A shaft of sunlight shone on a raised dais, focusing Arimea¡¯s attention to a grand structure that overlooked all before it. The eternal seat of power of the elves, the Peacock Throne. It looked to be carved from the Witchwood, but no metal blades had been allowed to touch the sacred wood. Instead, it had been coaxed into being, shaped by the ancient songs of elven craftsmen who once wielded the arcane words of creation. Formed into the shape of a peacock''s splendid fan, its myriad eyes seemed ever vigilant, eternally on the watch for the faintest whisper of treachery. And upon that throne sat their king. All feared the king and his vitriol. He was quick to anger and slow to forget, for the years upon the throne had lent him great power. Through his long reign, his list of achievements almost rivaled the list of his former, now broken, enemies. He was a being filled with an almost raw masculine energy, yet surprisingly slight and supple of form. His hair and eyes were the iron gray of storm clouds, a sign of his great and venerable age. A proud and unlined face, taught with a tapestry of long-buried emotions and memories, looked coldly down at all before him. Watching for signs only he knew to look for. Like all the elves, Arimea feared their king. Book 3: In the Shadow of the Peacock Throne [Part 3] A herald announced her presence, listing off the meaningless titles that she had acquired over the years, ripping her away from her observations. The elf¡¯s monotone voice somehow seemed to make all of her achievements seem so small and mundane. With Lorsan at her side, she made her way to pay her obeisance before the Peacock throne. With each step, the air grew heavier with an ominous, almost palpable pressure. It felt like a funeral procession, or the final steps to the headsman¡¯s gallows. Finally, she reached the foot of the throne and, together with Lorsan, planted her head on the floor. ¡°Lady Arimea, Lorsan, you may rise,¡± boomed the voice from the throne. If she was not mistaken, there was a hint of something odd in his tone. Slowly, she looked up to gaze upon her king. Yes, it was not just imagination, his voice tinged with something other than expected anger. There was a note of¡­ amusement and his ancient ageless face had hints of a boyish smile. It was disturbing. ¡°You have failed us,¡± came the immediate judgment from the ancient elf. There was sound as the whole court drew an intake of breath. She would have laughed had the matter not been so serious. ¡°Yes, my king,¡± she answered honestly, doing her best to keep her voice steady. Excuses and other social machinations would not work before him. The eyes of the throne knew all. ¡°Yet, in a completely different matter, you have succeeded beyond expectations. To slay the Hwanda Heveni, the sum of all men, is no small achievement. Humans and their ridiculous titles. The wiles of fate and destiny are as capricious as they are cruel, are they not Lorsan? To think that the greatest sword master of our generation crossed blades with the Dragon Slayer, and prevailed no less.¡± The king turned the full force of his gaze upon Arimea. ¡°Surely, you would think that Lorsan would look a bit happier, despite being somewhat diminished,¡± the leader of the elven nation commented wryly in a clear voice that both expected and demanded agreement. Nervously Arimea looked to Lorsan, meeting his eyes and giving him a small nod. ¡°It is as you say, my king,¡± the elven swordmaster responded neutrally in Arimea¡¯s stead, his eyes firmly fixed on the living carpet of green before the throne. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°So, it would seem that I must both reward and punish you? And Lorsan too, by association. That is what they would have done in times of old, no?¡± the ancient king stated, the mirth coloring his voice plainer for her ears to see. Still, the feeling of dread did not leave her. The pressure both within and without grew. This was a crossroads, an intersection of a planned fate. She could feel it in the song of Mana. ¡°My king? What is it that you wish of us?¡± croaked Arimea, failing finally to keep an even keel. ¡°Still, not even a hint of an apology? You will not beg forgiveness from us? You are proud Arimea, like your mother, and her mother¡¯s mother. Too proud by far. Shame Lorsan could not impart upon you a fraction of his humility,¡± the ancient one rejoined without answering her question. ¡°We have begun the rite of the Summoning. We will call forth our own Hero from the Distant World. We will have an Elven Champion of our own. Like in the times of yore,¡± announced the King with great aplomb. Like a wave rippling across a tranquil lake, a great gasp took the assembly. A gasp that soon turned into panicked natterings. As the gathered nobles reached a crescendo of worry, the king raised a single hand and the court fell once again into silence. ¡°Our seers will call forth one that they have seen in their visions. He will come from the Kingdom of the Lonely Star and his soul shines as one of the mightiest of warriors and generals of his world,¡± the old one announced to the gathered elves. ¡°And I have chosen the pair of you to be his guide. You will show him our ways. You will instruct him to fight, using only our ways. You will be the bond that glues him to the First Children. Especially you, Arimea. Flawed as your beauty might be, you will serve him in both body and soul. Your remaining charm will have to serve to bind him to us,¡± the ancient King stated with an almost lecherous smile. ¡°But I am promised to another! I will be no¡­¡± Arimea protested. She looked around for her promised one. She caught his eyes for a moment, but in that moment he looked down, guiltily. Of course, with her reputation in tatters, she was damaged goods now. The king looked down at her as if she was just a cross child. ¡°You will serve your people and you will thank us for the honor of it,¡± he declared simply, silencing her. "But your Majesty," Lorsan asked, clearly puzzled, "teaching someone our ways takes centuries. Just as trees cannot be forced to grow, can a worthy warrior truly be made in such a short time?¡± A laugh resounded from up on the throne. ¡°Lorsan, I have been told that a Champion, when summoned to our world, will learn very quickly. It is simply about preparing the correct¡­ conditions for growth.¡± The King¡¯s words were like a river, washing away all chance and challenge of a response. ¡°By your will,¡± they both acquiesced with nothing to add, pressing their heads to soft green. Any further comment in such a public arena would only serve as a direct insult to the throne¡¯s authority. Stoic as she had thought she had become, Arimea could not help but to allow a single hidden tear to track its way down her face. Soon it was lost into countless green blades beneath her. ¡°And when he is ready, we will sail once more across the seas with our armies. We will call our satrapies to war and claim what belongs to us,¡± stated the King, as cheers took the court like a rapturous fire. Book 3: Al-Lazar [Part 1] Why do we regain our essence, our well of energy, our inner Mana, more rapidly when we rest? The time when consciousness fades and we walk upon the land of the dream. And why is it that the most intellectually capable of us are able to command greater reserves of arcane power? Is it because of rote practice, technique, or a deeper understanding of our element that allows us to perform greater feats of magic, like the writings of the ancients suggest? Perhaps it is both. Perhaps it is neither, and our capacity for mastery of the arcane is decided at birth. Some of my peers posit it is because only a greater intellect can ponder, can visualize, the higher truth of the universe. To understand concepts that go beyond mere space and time and to touch, in a limited way, the face of the divine. I have heard some argue that it is only when we are free from conscious thought that we can allow our minds to fly unshackled from the misguided preconceptions of things that we view as real. And in doing so, we allow for a greater connection to the world, and to god-gift Mana itself. Perhaps, it is in the land of the dreams that the answers to the greater mysteries of this universe can be found. - Notes found in the quarters of Master Bertrand of the University of Quas. By their blessing, or perhaps they were simply distracted, the other gods of this world did not turn their eyes upon us. As for Iasis, though I never gave the words of the gods much weight, it seemed that she had kept her promise. There were no further attacks by the great Guardians, nor any other monster or savage desert tribes. The rest of the journey was blessedly uneventful. What would the people of the Ravens and the Crows think if they knew that it was the blessing of a very different goddess that had guaranteed their safety? Time passed, a slow inexorable advance as one day bled into the next. Not counting the nearly incessant nagging, the only constants were the pervasive heat of the day and the icy chill of the desert night. Like Elwin, and now the rest of my companions, I had taken to wearing the flowing clothes of the desert over my armor. This fusion of attire conjured images of the crusaders in the Palestine, a blend of medieval European armor with the traditional desert garb. It did, somewhat, help to mitigate some of the heat and cold, but then again with my high Constitution, the boiling heat of the sun and the freezing night were minor discomforts at worst. If anything, I did it for the simple human need to just fit in. For nearly two whole moons, we traveled along the Green Road. I had spent all of that time throwing myself at physical tasks like cutting obstinate proto-trees that even the Xaruar had difficulty removing from the path. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. On a day much like any other, a wagon wheel snapped and broke. Wishing to test my Strength, I dug my heels into the soft sand and tried to lift the vehicle before it overturned. Kidu, trying to be helpful, or perhaps viewing this as a sort of challenge, rushed to my aid. We both strained together in a weird sort of contest. For our Herculanean effort, I earned a point in Strength, a growing rarity, as the numbers got higher. I had even taken to playing games with the children. Not that I enjoyed their company, but it gave me an excuse to practice the use of my Stealth skill as we played this world¡¯s variant of hide-and-seek. They were even able to persuade me to shed my armor as, no matter how hard I tried, it was impossible to garner even a modicum of stealth when clad in a suit of steel. Thanks to these fun and games, I was able to raise my Stealth skill to level two. Though by no means a ghost in the night, I was learning to move with a certain economy of movement that lent me a quieter stride. It was progress. It was with a little regret that one of the children had gone missing, and we were only able to find his shriveled corpse inside a monstrous large pitcher plant analog. Desi was his name, and he was perhaps not the sharpest tool in the shed, but his passing cast a pall on further games. The funeral was a rushed affair, no doubt due to Laes wanting to reach Al-lazar as soon as possible. At times the man had no respect for common human decency. Across the evening meals, I heard the tale of the worm riders, of how my companions rode one of the great Guardians. With every retelling, the tale gradually grew with embellishments until now it was a thing of living legend. Up until the present, the people of the Ravens thought, in their ignorance, that the Guardians breathed the sand as if it were air. However, Kidu had doubted this, thinking that the worms of the desert were like the whales and porpoises of the frozen seas of his home. The Hunter intuited that the Guardians breathed air and not sand, and in a stroke of natural genius, he forced one of the spiracles open with his spear. These organs, the holes running along the sides of the monster, were what the creature used to breathe. Like the blowholes of the cetaceans on Earth, it needed to close them before burrowing beneath the sand. Unable to dive beneath the dunes, the Guardian was forced to travel across the surface, until finally, exhausted, it stilled, allowing my companions to dismount safely. There were now other variations of the tale. One such divergence was that it was Kidu himself and his great bulk that kept the spiracle open. Yet another was that Cordelia prayed to Avaria, and the Goddess herself interceded. It was interesting to see the truth so easily twisted in such a short span of time. ***** The mist would often form along the river in the early hours of the morning, making the line of vehicles ahead of our wagon look like ghosts. The only substance they had to them was their sound, calls that echoed far. The movement of the caravan was, by far, not a quiet affair. It was on one such morning that I was gifted with my first vision of the great city of Al-Lazar. There, in the far distance, I mistook it for a heatwave or a mirage, but a glint of gold flashed. Next to this flash, was a thin line of iron gray, the Blister Sea as I was told. That sparkle of gold was the Dome of Becoming, the tallest monument in the city of Dust, according to Laes and the other people of the Raven. Book 3: Al-Lazar [Part 2] Now Laes, despite my doubts, had been true to his word. He had paid me the agreed upon silver every month. Half of which, however, went to sundry costs. But with the city so near now, those accounts would soon be closed. The city in the distance also represented freedom, an escape from chains. And an escape from the incessant nagging that had been plaguing me of late. When had Catalina turned into such a fishwife? When she was not complaining, she was generally pleasant company, but any further entanglement presented only a series of problems. I tried to imagine a life with her, and simply could not do it. The relationship had, unfortunately, run its course. Also, the single mothers of this world, like in my old one, had their fair share of problems that, quite frankly, I did not wish to deal with any longer. I wanted to see more of this world, and the last thing I needed was a premade family to hold me back. Though how I would be able to bid farewell without causing a scene would be another matter. I would lose too much face if I left in the middle of the night¡­ Perhaps it would be better to discuss things with Laes, nip this problem in the bud as it were. Laes would make a killing on this trip, exchanging his goods for the rare commodity that was the Dust. More importantly, he could probably leverage some of the information from the outside world to gain favors within the city. I would have to make sure that he did not mention me or my companions to any relevant parties that might be interested. It called for a pointed discussion, a very pointed discussion. Our destination was so close at hand, that I felt, keenly, the urge to pad my purse with more money. There was no longer a need to lose on purpose when gambling, for I was no longer trying to milk the games for Luck gains. Instead, I began to win steadily, but not at a rate that I could be accused of rigging or cheating. Indeed, it would have taken a brave man to put forth such an accusation. Still, there was no point in killing the golden goose. While I kept playing out simulations of betrayal, I also made sure to plan for the future. Here and there, I pumped the people of the Raven for all they knew of the city, and most of them were happy to tell me what I wanted. The city¡¯s governance, in comparison to the rest of the world, was, in my opinion, a little different from the standard I had come to expect. Al-Lazar was controlled, essentially, by a group of companies who exerted control and influence over the politics of the city. These organizations in turn could vote on various edicts and policies of the city. Members of such companies were called Shareholders, as they shared directly in the vast profits of the companies. They were essentially the lords and ladies of the city, just under different names. There was no corporate meritocracy here, as power was handed down through familial lines. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. However, it hardly mattered, as even an incompetent person could reap the vast profits that were made from the annual harvest of the Dust. Despite the natural barriers of the Wastes, and the ongoing blockade of its sea routes, trade groups and caravans still found their way here to deal in the most precious of substances. Approximately three hundred miles or so to the north was the port town of Narilmu. There, a trickle of trade came in by sea from those willing to brave sporadic raids from the Mer and was supplemented by another overland trade route from the North. These trade groups would then make the rest of the way south to the city of Al-Lazar, hiring adventurers or mercenaries for their escort. It was a far cry from the trading heyday of Al-Lazar before their war with the people of the sea, but it was a lifeline nonetheless. What was worrying was the strong presence of the Church of Her Divine Radiance, the followers of the hateful Avaria, in the port town. If She had followers in the region, it represented a potential threat. I learned from Cordelia that, banned in Al-Lazar, they instead ran a collection of almshouses, orphanages, hospitals, and other charitable works in Narilmu. It was a well-known fact that the majority of the dock workers, porters, and general laborers were of Aranthian stock or devout followers of the Church. All of this gave the Church great influence in Narilmu, and indirectly Al-Lazar itself. I decided it would be best to avoid the place as much as possible. From Abas Yar, I learned that the land route to the north was as perilous as crossing the Whispering Wastes. Further north, you could travel until the desert became a jungle. Through this primordial jungle was a road made in ancient times from large blocks of white marble stone. You would think that this would be a safe thing to travel, but green skins had made their homes in the jungle. Barbaric tribes and clans of Orcs and Goblins fought each other under the dark canopies of the trees. The savages often fought each other as much as they attacked the merchant caravans. Of some note, the Ravens and the Crows would be stopping at Narilmu before traveling this route. Al-Lazar was ostensibly a city at war and under economic siege, its sea routes blockaded by the Mer. However, between the Adventurer¡¯s and Mercenary Guilds'' strong presence within the city, along with their private armies, the city was well defended. Between the city of Narilmu, and the other overland routes, and despite the dangers of those routes, the city was well supplied. Indeed, the raids of the Mer had long ago been relegated to minor nuisances, as the war, for the most part, prevented marine travel into the city. Indeed there had been talk of suing for peace, but this had been vetoed at every turn. There was also talk of a tournament that would soon be held in the city, and this certainly piqued my interest. These sorts of events in games were always fun and were a good way to raise one¡¯s influence and earn rich rewards. Looking at my companions, I was pretty sure that even if I could not win it, perhaps one of them could. Sitting high in my saddle, I saw a group of horsemen, coming from the direction of Al-Lazar. Laes seemed unusually calm, relieved almost, as if he had been expecting them. Was this the moment he had been waiting for? He would be the first to fall, if he was planning treachery. Book 3: A Sticky Situation [Part 1]* Death is but a path that we must all walk to its inevitable conclusion. - The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC. At a distance, where the human eye could still discern shape, walls of yellow sandstone rose against a backdrop of an iron gray sea. Before me was my journey¡¯s goal, the fabled city of Al-Lazar and the symbol of my freedom. A symbol of a new life. The horsemen from yesterday were soldiers of the city of the Dust, sent to escort and guide us there. According to them, the frequency of Mer sightings in recent days had increased, a prelude to a new period of conflict. Our new escorts, for the most part, all bore uniform equipment. Each of them had a lance or lengthy spear, a bundle of jarids, and a long curved blade that was typical of cavalry. Their armor was notable. The fronts and backs of the soldiers were guarded by large, solid discs, connected by chain links of iron or steel. Around their open-faced helms, they wore keffiyehs checkered in black and white. They all had a disciplined and professional air about them. Yet, a closer inspection revealed something amiss, their gazes were oddly unfocused, eyes slightly glazed, betraying a subtle disconnect from their surroundings. Laes offered them the hospitality of the camp, which they surprisingly rejected, instead preferring to set themselves a hundred yards away from us. It seemed that they were serious about their business. We would arrive in the city tomorrow, or the day after, by my own rough guess. Preparing my things as best as I could, I was surprised when a young boy, obsequious in his manner, gave me a summons to Laes¡¯ wagon. Interrupted, I could not help a small spark of annoyance light up in my gut, a spark I soon smothered with a smile. I informed the boy that I would be in the caravan master¡¯s company shortly. Something told me, a gut instinct perhaps, that I should not go to the caravan master alone. I looked over the current occupants of the wagon, looking for the perfect escort. Kidu was whittling away at a small block of wood, unlocking the secret shape it had hidden within. I did not take him for the artistic type, but then again everyone needs a hobby to while away the time. Kidu would be too imposing, more likely to threaten violence than settle for negotiation. Searching inside of myself, I did not have the reserves of patience to restrain him. In truth, I needed someone to act as a possible restraint on my own actions, a calm head, as you will. As for Elwin, he was busy mixing and grinding away to make a paste, with the help of Larynda. What he was making eluded me, and several attempts at Identify just gave me the name of the various ingredients in the mixture. If I wanted to know the name of whatever it was he was making, I would have to ask him or wait for him to finish. I decided to wait. He was busy, and I doubted that Laes, or anyone in the caravan really, held him in high regard. His words would be as wind. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Larynda of course, charming as she could be at times, was, of course, off the table. That left Cordelia, the Temple Knight who was currently saying evening prayers to a faraway Goddess. Cordelia would be perfect. Her piety and holiness held great sway here among the believers, notwithstanding her own social rank and station. She would also act as a ward against my baser impulses, but at the same time, strong enough to back me in the worst of possible situations. I found her outside of her wagon, on her knees, her eyes shut in devotion. She was imploring her Goddess for guidance, a deep need etched in every word. It was a prayer, perhaps, or maybe a hymn, flowing from her in a melodic rhythm, her lilting voice weaving a tapestry of sound that was hauntingly beautiful. Once she finished, she brushed the grass off her clothes, a few stubborn blades remaining, despite her efforts. Did she know that by following me, her Goddess would most likely abandon her, stripping her of her blessings? She greeted me with her beatific smile, an expression that was so serene that it gave a measure of solace to my heart. Sure in my choice, I informed her that Laes requested my company and that I wished for her to join me. Unarmored, she accepted with a simple nod of her head, slinging on her magic longsword. Unlike Kidu, her strength was understated. I finally understood why people hired female bodyguards. Together we made our way through the camp to Laes¡¯ wagon, finding Laes at his bolted-down desk and a grim-faced Khalam hovering beside him. Once again, my eyes were drawn to the pair of delicate swords hanging over some large horns, before I focused on the pair before me. ¡°Greetings Master Gilgamesh, I hope I did not unduly disturb you,¡± started the caravan master in a neutral voice. ¡°We will arrive at our destination soon, my obligation to Master Alchemist Hamsa fulfilled. Now there are two matters we must see to,¡± he continued, running a hand through a length of knotted cord, the knots a tally and ledger. ¡°First, the last of your pay. I have included a little bonus for services rendered. It is, of course, much appreciated. Were it not for your company, our fates might have been different,¡± said the horse-faced man, his ugly face looking to Khalam for comment as he placed a small cloth purse on his desk. Khalam''s face was all hard lines and tension, but still, he gave a grudging nod. Without me, Laes and his people would have been doomed. However, an argument could be made that it was because of me and my little package that the Ravens had been in danger in the first place, but I digress. Internally quibbling over minutiae never amounted to anything. I reached over to take my well-deserved pay, placing it into my tough satchel made of boiled leather plates. Reading the room, I decided it would be rude if I did not count out the money. ¡°Khalam has brought to my attention another matter that needs to be settled before you leave us,¡± added Laes, lines of worry adding their presence to his already uncomely appearance. ¡°The matter of your¡­ relationship with one of our recently widowed, Catalina Kalkassin.¡± Book 3: A Sticky Situation [Part 2] I kept an impassive expression on my face, hoping that the fool would get on with whatever accusation that he was going to make. ¡°I do not like to get involved with people¡¯s private matters, much less a man who is obviously watched over by the Goddess herself, but there are matters of propriety that must be observed,¡± fussed the Caravan matter. ¡°Your point being?¡± I almost barked in annoyance, breaking my stony facade. I had gotten what I wanted and now just wished to make an exit as soon as was feasibly possible. ¡°You may not know our ways outlander, but for a man to lie with a woman whose husband has passed this mortal coil is a statement that he is willing to take responsibility. It is a heavy honor and duty,¡± cut in Khalam, breaking his silence. ¡°I was not aware¡­¡± I began, only to be interrupted by the irate Guard Master. ¡°You were not aware!¡± seethed the older man, his hands clenching into fists. ¡°Indeed, I was not,¡± I half-shouted, the only way I could get a word in. Did Catalina know all along, that I had no knowledge of this custom, this foisting of responsibility after a simple tumble? Paranoid thoughts rushed through a mind that was searching for past hints. Had she been in cahoots with Laes all along? Had Laes been whoring her out to keep a useful asset with the Ravens? My mind whipped through various tangents, even considering a strange plot with Gelgor, the master of the Crows. Had my dreams been prophetic in nature? ¡°Will you do the honorable thing Master Gilgamesh? She is a mother with a young child,¡± said Laes, his voice calm and level. It was clear to me then what their goal was, they wanted me to marry the woman. For me, she was nothing more than a bedwarmer, something to keep the otherwise tiresome journey interesting. I justified it as a transactional relationship, after all, she did owe me her life. The least she could do was spread her legs every now and again, and it was not like she did not enjoy the experience herself. It takes two to tango, or perhaps she was just a better actress than I gave her credit for. It would serve me well to remember that in this world, general attitudes were far more conservative, extremely so, than they had been in my more advanced and civilized society. So backward were these barbarians. But even this small pleasure had been tempered somewhat by her incessant nagging that I had completely ignored. Nagging that had increased as we got closer to our destination. ¡°Let me make this clear to the pair of you, I have no intent of marrying the woman. Nor did I seduce the woman, I was invited,¡± I stated matter-of-factly. Sighing to himself as if he had been expecting it, Laes steepled his fingers before giving out his secondary plan. ¡°Then you will need to pay her bride price, is it the least you can do. Understand, that as Master here I must maintain my authority, even in the face of Divine providence. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Divine providence you say? That is rich coming from a man who would seek to shackle and control the Herald of the Goddess herself. Know your place,¡± voiced Cordelia with a saint¡¯s patience and authority. ¡°You would dare!? You owe your life to Laes¡¯ grace, temple witch,¡± spat out Khalam, the old man¡¯s face heating with emotion. ¡°A temple witch, you say? Perhaps, if a Knight of the Penitent Heart can be one. But you would do well to remember that I am also the daughter of Duke Everard de Aserac. Your words could be taken not only as a direct insult to myself, but as an insult to my house and the Duke himself, ¡± she replied quietly, like a teacher dealing with a fractious child. As far as I was concerned, this was all theater. The Ravens could not force my hand. They lacked the power to back up their demands. Still, a part of me wished to salvage the situation. We had, in the end, been traveling companions and it would do me no good if we ended up on bad terms. I sensed that Khalam was being overly emotional for some reason, there was more to this than met the eye. Laes, on the other hand, might be more sympathetic to my predicament. Cordelia however decided to go on the offensive. ¡°You speak of bride price?¡± she snorted, giving out a weak derisive laugh. ¡°I speak often with the women of the Ravens. It is a well-known fact that she boasts of receiving a good deal of money from the Herald, in his charity,¡± she paused for a moment, before delivering the final blow. ¡°I daresay, I was not raised in rough company, but what is it that you call a woman who receives money from a man who visits her at night? And what would the bride price be of such a woman?¡± she finished lightly with a provocative smile. Until that moment, I did not believe the human face could reach such heights of barely repressed confusion, outrage, and outright anger. It was quite the picture painted on the old warrior¡¯s expression, and I saw his hand reach for the weapon at his hip. If he wanted violence, he was more than welcome to come at me. I would end him as I had ended all that had attacked me. Laes, on the other hand, looked completely nonplussed, an expression that he quickly covered in the next two breaths. He was a professional, this one. A merchant through and through. The man probably thought this not as an insult, but instead a negotiation and bargaining tactic. He took a deep breath to calm himself down, before looking me straight in the eye. ¡°Then what would you have me do, Master Gilgamesh?¡± he inquired with a forlorn sigh. ¡°Laes, you can¡¯t possibly¡­¡± started Khalam again childishly, his words and immature action throughout this whole exchange belying his advancing years. ¡°What would you have me do?¡± he asked again softly, completely ignoring his second. ¡°I will not let it be said that I am an unkind man. True, it is partly my fault that I was ignorant of your ways. Still, it could also be said that she seduced me,¡± I paused for a beat, trying to search their faces for clues. Laes gave away nothing. ¡°I will give the poor lady, in my charity, some money. Let me make this clear, however, this will not be the bride price,¡± I suggested, hoping that I did not sound overly pompous. This option afforded me a way out of this mess. A mess that my innocent ignorance had birthed. For in my world, in my culture, who would expect a young man like myself to burden himself with an older woman with a child? It was preposterous. If she had half a brain, she should have known what our relationship was. My suggestion allowed for Laes to save face. It also meant that I could keep relationships with the Ravens neutral at least, at the cost of some coin. In all choices it seemed, however, there was a price. Book 3: Sweet Sorrow [Part 1]* It is always hard for those who stand on the right side of the events of history. It is a heavy mantle that I have no joy in bearing. - Gilgamesh of Uruk. The new day¡¯s sun brought soft pastel colors that would later fade to a strict uniform azure. This close to the iron gray ocean, the wind brought with it the first hints of a salty tang, notes of the sea. The Green Road, that oddly spear-straight river, finished as strangely as it had begun. Its waters disappeared into a pool ringed by high prehistoric horsetails. At the base of these plants was thick thorny briar that writhed with alien and jealous intent, forming a natural wall that prevented all from entering. The end of the Green Road marked the end of my time with the people of the Raven. Tomorrow would be a time for farewells, but also new beginnings. A new chapter of my adventures, yet unwritten. Our camp was set up a mere stone''s throw from the city''s walls, just outside the main gates. Our mounted escort had told us of new tariffs and certain new forms that needed to be filled in before they headed back into the city. Before they left, the guards offered to expedite the process for a fee, pointedly warning him that outside the walls was not safe. However, Laes, in his miserly stubbornness, did not want to enter the city with the train until he had confirmed the truth of these new changes. To the north of us, extensive, irrigated crop fields stretched out, the breadbasket of the city. There, numerous workers, donning wide-brimmed hats to shield themselves from the sun''s harsh glare, labored diligently. I assumed them to be free men, for I had yet to see or hear the slaver¡¯s lash. Al-Lazar was a city, after all, that prided itself on being a ¡°free city.¡± Surrounding the fields was a natural barricade of large rocks, hardy plants, and trees, which served to keep the encroaching desert sands at bay. Across the beaches, was a very different sort of agriculture. Great flowering vines that looked like the green tentacles of a giant slumbering sea creature wove their way across the bleach bone sand, creating a vivid tapestry of color and life amidst the sand and sea. Among the plants, workers toiled with a manic frenzy, harvesting the flowers into large baskets. These were the famous Dust fields of the Al-Lazar, the primary source of the city¡¯s wealth. The source of the narcotic Dust. Encircling the city itself were towering walls, constructed from thick, heavy blocks of yellow sandstone. The men patrolling atop these fortifications, clad in bronze and iron armor, moved in perfect lockstep behind the crenelated battlements. Strategically placed along the walls were machicolations, sinister structures designed to let defenders rain down a variety of deadly materials onto the attackers below. Portions of the battlements were covered, sheltering what must have been ballistae, their fearsome spear bolts leaning over the walls with deadly promise. Parts of other siege engines, like the arms of catapults or trebuchets, peaked over strategic sections of the wall. High and formidable towers, like fortified minarets, stood at the corners, overseeing and completing the city''s imposing defensive structure. Rising above even the high walls of the city, a magnificent dome was visible, its gold plating reflecting the sun''s rays with a resplendent brilliance. This was the renowned Puhru Bitu, the Council Chambers, or the Dome of Becoming, and it was the seat of power for the Shareholder families, as well as the heart of governance in the city. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The magnificence and grandeur of the architecture was nothing short of magnificent, rivaling even the splendors of my old world. Their architects and builders must have dreamed of achieving immortality by leaving behind great legacies carved and raised from stone. But I was not so foolish as to settle for such a lesser prize. No, I vowed to one day achieve true life everlasting. I squinted and saw movement. A short distance from the eastern wall, I witnessed a scene most unusual unfold before my very eyes. A small group of cavalry was riding hard. In the midst of their ranks, was a figure astride a creature that could only be described as gracefully monstrous. At least a head taller than the horses, this six-limbed lizard ran with a fluid, loping gait. It propelled itself on four of its limbs, while the front pair had three sickle claws each that seemed capable of effortlessly tearing through both flesh and bone. The creature''s head and long tail boasted a striking display of feathers and plumes, all shimmering in shades of purple and red, loosely reminiscent of the velociraptors of Earth¡¯s ancient past. The small contingent of mounted soldiers appeared to be herding a group of odd, pearly blue humanoids, twenty strong, toward the sea. The soldiers of the city were not all riding ordinary mounts. No, they were harrying them, I realized, as they hurled spears at the retreating figures. They cut across the Dust fields, as the cavalry, barely sparing the panicked workers any attention, almost ran them down in their chase of the strangely colored men. Unable to navigate a path through the large vines, a horse gave out a shrill whinny as it tripped and fell, tossing its rider to the carpeted ground. In a desperate move, one of the green creatures tossed an odd device at the horsemen, which exploded into a burst of translucent slime, impeding their pursuit. Seizing this opportunity, the pursued group, instead of continuing along the white sands of the beach, started to wade into the iron-gray sea before disappearing beneath the waves. The cavalry, once they extricated themselves from the slime, raised their weapons and gave out ululating cries that celebrated their victory. Their mission accomplished, they picked up their fallen companion, euthanized his horse, and began their ride back to the city. If I was not mistaken, and from the descriptions I had heard from the Ravens, the people or creatures that had retreated into the sea were the Mer, a party of them sent to scout out the surface-dweller¡¯s realm. The people of the sea often initiated their assaults with probing missions, much like the one I had witnessed, setting the stage for a larger attack. A massive, amphibious onslaught aimed at capturing the city. Vast numbers of the sea-dwellers, along with their formidable war beasts of the deeps, would emerge from the ocean depths, launching themselves at the city walls in a frenzied, often suicidal, attack. These ferocious assaults were typically repelled through the combined efforts of the city''s defenders, bolstered by the hired hands of the Adventurer''s and Mercenary''s Guild. Despite these defenses, the city walls had once been breached, leading to intense, bloody combat within the city itself. This harrowing incident spurred the city-state''s governing body into action, prompting them to strengthen and modernize their fortifications in an immense public works project. Were we safe, outside the city walls? True, the defenders of the city had made short work of the rather pathetic scouting party of the Mer, but still, I could not help but feel that the caravan was taking unnecessary risks. By the looks of things, we were the first of the trading groups to cross the desert and should have been more than welcome in the city. Surely, the man could have used that to his advantage? Perhaps, this was another tactic of Laes to influence the price of his goods one way or another. However, my concerns for the caravan would soon be neither here nor there. Yesterday, I finally negotiated through a potentially rather messy situation. It revealed to me, like some Eastern cultures of my old world, that theirs was, at its core, a very transactional one. It was a little off-putting, barbaric almost, but also had a stark simplicity that did away with a lot of meaningless nonsense. One gold was a simple, and relatively small amount of money, all things considered, for services rendered. It would mean that I would not be leaving enemies behind. Book 3: Sweet Sorrow [Part 2] Lying on a hard bed, with barely enough space for two, I stared up at the wooden ceiling of Catalina¡¯s wagon, the legacy of her late husband. Light began to filter in through the gaps of the heavy shutters, telling me that a new day was now upon me. Putting off what I knew I must do, I took a moment to review my current Status.
[STATUS] Calling: Gilgamesh lvl.13 Paladin/Reaver
Strength: 32 Dexterity: 26 Constitution: 43 Intelligence: 25 Wisdom: 22 Charisma: 14 Luck: 23
Entropic Mimic [Creature of Entropy - lvl.24]
Health: 474/474 Stamina: 60/60 Mana: 1/1 Adaptive Defense (lvl.2) Shield Form (lvl.2)
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.3) Power Strike (lvl.4) 10 Endure (lvl.5) Stealth (lvl.2) Rest (lvl.4) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.3) Polearms (lvl.3) Dual Wield (lvl.2) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.4) Improved Unarmed Combat (lvl.1) Hammers (lvl.3) Flails (lvl.3) Maces (lvl.3) Shields (lvl.3) Medium Armor (lvl.4) Improved Heavy Armor (lvl.1) Axes (lvl.2) Daggers (lvl.4) Throwing Weapons (lvl.2) Double Throw (lvl.1) 5 Shield Bash (lvl.2) 10 Riding (lvl.2) Dash (lvl.1) Swords (lvl.3) Crossbows (lvl.4) Blind-Fighting (lvl.2) This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Rush Strike (lvl.1) Tracking (lvl.1) Trap Detection (lvl.1) Frenzied Strikes (lvl.2) Monster Taming (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) 5 Rust (lvl.4) 2 Identify (lvl.4) 1 Silent Casting (lvl.2) Mana Regeneration (lvl.3) Purify (lvl.2) 3 Greater Heal (lvl.2) 10 Holy Aura (lvl.3) 2 Decay (lvl.1) 1 Drain (lvl.5) 2 Entropic Aura (lvl.3) 2 Inferno Bolts (lvl.2) 2
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% to all starting attributes. Mark of the Paladin: 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic, 5% resistance to Physical. Touch of the Void: 10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects. Mark of the Adapting: Helix 5% Resistance to Physical Minor Regeneration
Experience to next level 167/1069
Health: 383/383 Stamina: 71/72 Mana: 18/18
General improvements across the board, with even my passenger improving its skills. It was time to bite the bullet. Steeling myself, I prepared for what I had to say. ¡°Today, I am leaving,¡± I began, whispering to the woman lying next to me. Catalina was not beautiful, not objectively in the sense that, let¡¯s say, Cordelia was. But she had a pretty face and full figure backed up by a certain enthusiasm that added a lot of spice to our nocturnal activities. My encounter with Iasis had changed me, and Catalina had borne the brunt of my frustrations as I sought relief. I had asked her to do certain things¡ªacts of dark fantasy that I had never had the guts to ask of a girl before. She did them all willingly, with minimal coercion, her weak, pretend smiles the only sign of her pain and discomfort. The next man who enjoyed her basically owed me a favor for opening up her horizons. It had been a liberating experience for both of us. Today would be the end of all of that. She started to cry, though whether this was sadness from the thought of our parting or from my slightly rough treatment of her last night, only the gods knew. ¡°I can not take you with me, you know this right?¡± I stated simply in a soft voice. She only sniffled pathetically in response, her back to me. ¡°Where I go is dangerous, and my enemies follow me, even now. I could not endanger you. Think, too, of your son,¡± I added, more to convince myself than to assuage her feelings. Finally, she turned to me, her voice hollow as she touched her stomach, ¡°No, it is not because you can¡¯t, it is simply because you won¡¯t. There is always a way for those who want it. Young I may be, but I know well enough a soft-spoken lie.¡± ¡°I am not lying¡­¡± I tried to counter. She plowed on, disregarding my excuses, ¡°At the start, I was lonely, too drunk with the grief of my loss. Too soon, the other women said, but who are they to know of the empty places of the heart? I saw you there, surrounded by such merriment, yet alone.¡± Pausing for a moment, a squall of repressed emotion clouded her features, ¡°I thought we were perhaps alike.¡± ¡°Do not lay all the blame at my feet. It takes two to¡­¡± I started again, only to be cut off. I must have failed a Charisma check or something, as this conversation was not going as I had planned. A testament to the unpredictability of the fairer sex. ¡°And I am sorry that I saw something that never was. I knew, but still, I had hoped. I wanted to make you happy, in any way that I could. You must think me a foolish, easy woman,¡± she said bitterly, recrimination present in all of her words. She continued with her monologue, every word steeped with emotion. ¡°Truly, you are a great one. Everyone, screams of your holiness. Even Abas Yar, that bitter excuse for an old man, sings your praises. That you are a hero, that the Goddess herself watches you. You are not holy, or Avaria is a jealous bitch that can not share her chosen with this mortal woman.¡± Her voice cracked. ¡°I gave my everything to you¡­¡± I did not bother with a rebuttal as I got dressed, leaving her to wallow in her misery and ignoring the rest of her tirade. Guilt pricked at me as I left her wagon. However, this feeling was soon erased as I felt an impact at the nape of my neck as I began to close the door behind me. The woman had decided to stupidly throw the coin purse I had left behind for her. The amount I had agreed with Laes. With a shrug of my shoulders, I left it where it had fallen. She would see reason soon enough. It seemed, however, that the old adage was right, there was no pleasing everyone. I passed by Dumuzi, not meeting his eyes, I just decided to ruffle his hair as I walked past. He had been a good lad. Soft, though. I could feel his accusatory gaze following me for a good while. ***** Catalina¡¯s recriminations were still playing in my mind, her words, what I remembered of them anyway, on an endless loop. It was a bad habit of mine, reviewing the past in search of an optimal answer. Elwin and Kidu sorted out our things, loading the bulk of our belongings onto Patches, while Cordelia and Larynda paid their respects to Ankhset, the Water Mage of the Ravens. I had questioned Ankhset more than a few times about my personal quest. Her answers were always vague and mysterious, full of clich¨¦s and esoteric nonsense. In the end, I learned nothing of note from the old witch. With little else to do, I sat on the steps of the wagon that had been my home throughout this long journey. My true quest, my search for immortality, had become more concrete. Snippets of information had given shape to my once vague goal. Iasis, of all things, had given me hope. My mind drifted in a half-daze, replaying the thousand and one experiences I had lived through. It was during this strange time that I received a summons from a boy, a mere slip of a youth. His face and manner were unknown to me, but he was polite in the way of these people and came before and bowed at the hip. ¡°Master Gilgamesh, Gelgor of the Crows would appreciate your help in matters regarding his health. He believes that you may be able to render assistance, and that you will be well compensated,¡± he finished bowing low as he waited for my response. After my wages from guarding the caravan, gambling, odd jobs, clearing my inventory, donations for healing, Catalina¡¯s settlement and other miscellaneous expenses, I had on my person around two gold in various denominations. While I was not destitute, my financial situation was precarious, especially considering the high cost of city life. Despite Khalam''s earlier warnings to avoid Gelgor, this close to my goal, I felt emboldened to disregard his advice. The rebellious part of me actually took pleasure in this defiance. With a mischievous smile, I conveyed my reply, ¡°Inform Master Gelgor of my interest. I will meet with him within the hour.¡± Book 3: Temptation [Part 1] The workers of the Dust fields are, for the most part, wretched addicts hooked on the pleasure that only the Dust Dreams can give. Lost in fantasies of their making, they slowly come to detest the waking world and all of its imperfections. Famously, there are no slaves in the ¡®free¡¯ city of Al-Lazar, but still, it exists there in all but name. The lost, the forlorn, and the desperate often find themselves targeted by unscrupulous individuals who coerce them into signing away their lives on pieces of paper. These are the ¡®indentured¡¯ workers of Al-Lazar who toil away in the fields under the hot desert sun. The workers of the Dust fields are, for the most part, trapped wretches such as these. Addicts hooked on the pleasure that only the Dust Dreams can give. Pushed into a corner by the weight of their addiction, their only salvation is to slave away in the Dust fields. Theirs are the cheapest of contracts and their terms the longest, for this is a fate that many of them happily accept. For, to work the fields, is to breathe in raw Dust. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. The thick, swirling tendrils of smoke hung heavily within Gelgor''s expansive wagon and obscured the resplendence that lay within. The furniture gleamed with opulence, adorned with a profusion of gemstones and glistening gold. The carpet was of a deep crimson and a fine, thick weave. On one wall, a masterpiece of unparalleled artistry commanded attention, a vivid tableau of a fearsome azure dragon locked in combat with winged humanoid adversaries. Reclining amidst the decadence, Gelgor rested upon a sumptuous bed of soft satin pillows. Inhaling deeply from a water pipe, the smoke billowed around him like a shroud. In his attendance, a youthful servile maiden, her attire a delicate combination of misty gauze and silk, almost stole my breath away. The curves of her shapely form, accentuated by the translucent fabric, was a tantalizing vision. I could not help but cast longing glances towards her. Black hair was tied in a braid that fell to her narrow waist like a line of midnight. Tilted red eyes, a shade deeper than even the carpet, contrasted beautifully with her warm, soft chocolate skin. Red eyes? What manner of eye color was that? These fleeting thoughts were quickly overshadowed by a pang of jealousy that gripped my heart as I watched her offer the corpulent man a morsel of freshly cut fruit. Gelgor''s possessive hand slid along her thigh as she did so, a smirk dancing upon his lips. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. At last, he diverted his attention to me with a wide smile. "Welcome! Welcome! I''ve long anticipated the meeting with the renowned Gilgamesh, the hero and guardian of the Ravens!" The morbidly obese man greeted me, his jowls quivering with feigned mirth. Moments later, he pounded his chest. The reclined position he held seemed to disagree with the fruit he had just consumed. The man spluttered briefly before his pretty attendant quickly dabbed his face with a small cloth. I noticed that it was stained crimson. Troubling. "Thank you Zariyah, my dear. A dreadful habit, the pipe, but one I picked up in my youth and am reluctant to relinquish, even in my advancing age. A man is often defined by his flaws, and the weaknesses of the flesh have been mine. Unlike my former brother-in-law and others, I won''t conceal them. Life it is to be lived," he explained, his grin supporting his unapologetic disposition. "Now, come, come. Enjoy my hospitality before we get into matters of business. Eat, eat!" he commanded, gesturing toward a low table laden with an assortment of finger food. It was to my credit that the heavy smoke did not cause me to cough or splutter, for with my Constitution I barely noticed the effects of the strangely apple-scented fumes. I did, however, start to experience a growing sense of relaxation, the tension in my shoulders gradually easing. Taking off my gloves, I fixed a polite smile on my face. ¡°Well, as you insist,¡± I acquiesced, sitting cross-legged before the sumptuous spread. Washing my hands in a scented bowl first, I began to partake of some of the dishes. However, my tongue barely registered their flavor, as my mind was too caught up in pondering Gelgor¡¯s intent. The predatory gleam in his eyes, a constant presence throughout the meal, left no room for doubt that he expected something from me. Inquiries as to how I found life among the traveling people and other bits of such small talk were spread over the course of the meal. They felt like probing actions, meant to take my measure. As I slowly cleared the plates, the questions became even more incisive. In my time with the Ravens, I had learned that it was customary to leave a bit of food on the final dish to indicate satisfaction with the host''s hospitality. More evidence of this world¡¯s backward way of thinking, but, I did not wish to be rude so I did as was expected. ¡°My thanks to you Master Gelgor, for providing a most sumptuous feast,¡± I offered formally. ¡°Not at all. Now, you will forgive me, but I must get to the heart of the matter. I need your help. What puzzles me is that from the way your eyes linger on Zariyah, and other things, I can see that you are no true man of the cloth. The deep followers of the Goddess are all essentially prudes, wishing to prescribe just exactly how one must act in the bedroom. If they could, they would sap all pleasure from it. Repressed individuals, but you are not quite cut from the same dogmatic cloth, no?¡± he asked, searching my face for my reaction as he took another puff from his pipe. I could not help but notice that his attendant Zariyah looked at him with genuine worry in her eyes every time he did so. There was something more here than just a master-servant relationship. Book 3: Temptation [Part 2] Giving him a tight smile I tried to give a witty response, ¡°Perhaps not, but still sheared from the same sheep. As are we all,¡± I returned, clumsily continuing the metaphor. Gelgor just smiled at this, waving it off. ¡°But can you truly perform healing akin to what the great temples offer? Traveling with one who bears one of Her blades lends credence to the rumors, but I must know the truth,¡± he insisted. But just as Gelgor was searching for answers, so too, was I observing him. Realizing that sitting on the floor to eat had inadvertently caused me to slouch, I sat up straight and bolstered my smile. Although he had initially put up a facade of languid indifference, this was now replaced by a new, almost palpable emotion, desperation. Something told me, a whisper of an ominous truth, that using Identify here would not be wise. The voices within concurred, reinforcing this conclusion. Besides, something about using it on such a gracious host felt oddly rude. ¡°Then you have heard only the truth, though I know not why I have been gifted so by the Goddess. Perhaps, it is all part of Her great and divine plan?¡± I returned, deciding to answer him directly rather than to toy with him and play games. He smiled at me, an expression that one would usually associate with snakes and other cold-blooded creatures. The desperate beggar hid himself in the background, while the merchant moved to the fore and center of the stage. ¡°But perhaps it is that you know of only the minor blessings, the magics that can do little more than heal the most minor of afflictions¡­?¡± he left his sentence hanging, both as a question and challenge. No doubt he wished to goad me into a demonstration. ¡°As you say, Master Gelgor, perhaps it is so. I myself have never witnessed the magic that you speak. I know only that I have some gift in the healing arts, if you do not require my services, then I must thank you for your hospi¡­¡± I goaded in turn with a smile, making as if to get up. ¡°Come, come now. Forgive me if I have caused offense, and please stay a while. I am not a man completely without faith,¡± he smiled, looking flustered and holding out his hands in protestation. I had no reason to refuse him as this was simply a negotiation tactic on my part. I had enjoyed the meal, light as it was, and to be honest, was warming to him a lot more than I did with Laes, who had never done me the service of even offering me simple tea. It was a stark contrast indeed. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. So I remained sitting, taking a moment to appreciate his ingratiating smile. Zariyah, sitting next to him, did not move a muscle, looking to the world like an exquisite frozen statue. ¡°I have an ailment that has no known name, but nonetheless hangs about me like the most unwanted of friends. It is a condition that I feel eating away at me from within, robbing me of my once virile strength,¡± he declared, before pausing dramatically as if allowing the words to settle before his eyes roved over, looking for something. Perplexed at my utter lack of reaction he continued. ¡°Most would be buried at least, fearing an infection spread about from the bad humors. I would have been cast out, had not my father suffered from the very same illness. It is something that is passed down through the blood, not the air or waters of the body. Yet, I could not help but notice that you did not bat an eyelid at the mention of my affliction. Either you are one of the bravest of men, have the constitution of the ogre, or even, hopefully, a truly skilled user of the god-gift of healing. All of course as rare as a dragon¡¯s smile,¡± he observed with a chortle. ¡°Mine is no common malady. A miracle, they say it would take, to cure me of my ills. And no alchemics have worked, nor minor blessings. Some of my people have even said that it is caused by an affliction of the soul, not of the body, and that I have been cursed because I have not welcomed Her into my heart. Nonsense. What need has a merchant for the scales of false justice? Gold, and gold alone, have been my swords of judgment and vengeance,¡± he scoffed, temporarily losing himself to an anger well worn with the passage of time. ¡°The pipe is the only thing that provides me with some relief, and I find myself at times wondering if it is time to surrender myself to a Dust dream. A temptation that grows stronger as the seasons pass.¡± I mulled over my options as I formulated a response. After all, with the latest debacle with the Ravens, the whole song and dance over the Catalina problem, it would do me no harm to have more friends in a different camp. I pondered over what to do. I had Gelgor where I wanted him, but I did not know how hard I could squeeze. I knew nothing of how the ¡®great¡¯ temples conducted their healing, or what they even charged, only that it was an exorbitant fee. To name a price outside an expected amount would make me look a fool and I would lose face. Therefore, I decided not to name a price at all. The value of my healing abilities would be determined by Gelgor, the beneficiary. Judging by the opulence before me, it seemed likely that he was not as frugal as Laes. ¡°Very well, I can but try, Master Gelgor. May the gods look upon us favorably on this day. It is not in my nature to bargain for the price of a miracle, for that is only a thing that the scales of the soul may weigh and judge,¡± I said, playing the part of the holy man. The man wanted a miracle, and I could deliver. Book 3: Intervention [Part 1]* The greatest of rivers is formed from the smallest of streams. - A Quassian Aphorism. Gelgor''s eyes narrowed briefly, losing their cordiality before he skillfully masked it again. He likely mistook my response for hesitation, assuming I was a charlatan trying to salvage dignity before my deceptions were exposed as mere lies. I couldn''t help but think with a touch of sarcasm, Oh ye of little faith. I now realized that common human ailments like disease, injury, and frailty no longer concerned me. Why fear broken bones, shattered limbs, or deadly poisons when I could heal with spells? As long as I had enough Mana, I was immune to these troubles. Such mortal concerns of the human condition were beyond me now. It felt liberating and, were it not for the fact that I was trapped on a barbaric world filled with uncultured savages, most welcome. As matters stood, it seemed to be just the bare minimum required for a man such as myself to get by. But for how long? If Avaria withdrew the last of her Grace from me, Iasis had said as much, would I still be able to cast my healing spells? No matter. I would use what I had for as long as I could. If this world had taught me anything, it was that there was no use in bemoaning one¡¯s lot. It was better to focus on the present. For the time being, I would start by healing the morbidly obese man in front of me. Rising with a clear sense of purpose, I approached Gelgor. Zariyah, his attendant, glanced at me, her lovely features tensing as she reached behind her back, only to seem confused moments later. Gelgor, with a dismissive wave of his plump hand, commanded her to be at ease. He adjusted his hefty frame into a semblance of a seated posture as I knelt beside him. There was a look to him as this fateful moment grew close. Like the first few licks of the flame at a campfire, a desperate need began to grow steadily across his face, eating away at his mask of control. Fear not Gelgor, salvation is at hand. ¡°What must I do?¡± he questioned, his voice tight and controlled. Stolen story; please report. ¡°Believe,¡± I commanded simply as I gathered the mystical energy of this world, forming it into the shape of my magic. Not wanting to be stingy, I elected to go all out with my Greater Heal spell. The familiar song of angels thrummed to a holy cadence, its glory only matched by its divine mystery, threading its golden way through the wagon¡¯s interior. I took a moment to regard the pair¡¯s awestruck faces before I focused completely on Gelgor and laid my hands upon him. Like a conductor of a most exquisite symphony, I guided the course of the energy through me into him. It filled the man, infusing his very being with the ardent light of the Divine. There was more to its auric majesty now, flecks of silver sparkled here and there among the golds, flashing like fish just beneath the river¡¯s surface. Something resisted me, a stubborn error or flaw within the man that needed to be corrected. I poured more of the energy in, redirecting the flow with a more singular purpose against this aberration. It dawned on a jealous part of me, the dark part of me, that this magic was doing more than just simply healing Gelgor. How I would have killed for a fraction of this power in my old world. To touch the face of something that was¡­ more. For the tiniest sliver of a moment, I could feel the magic remaking him, bringing him closer to the realm of the sublime. Zariyah could only look on, her exotic features frozen in wonder as the light of a false dawn shone. Her features looked rapt as she bore witness, like a prophet having a rapturous revelation. But even the light of the gods will fade eventually, and faster still when channeled by mortal and imperfect hands. The light of Gelgor¡¯s salvation subsided, bringing with it the echo of divine epiphany and leaving behind a lingering regret. The natural light of the soft afternoon sun began to filter through It was welcome, if not a little anticlimactic, that a notification appeared across my mind¡¯s eye. Acknowledging the boon, I looked to see what my magic had wrought.
You have learned Greater Heal (lvl.3)
The caravan master¡¯s rotund form was wracked by the seizures from the touch of the Divine. It would be almost comical, except that this was the first time my healing had produced such a response. Worrying, indeed. Zariyah snapped out of it and simply clenched her fists by her side in worry and frustration. Good, she knew better than to intervene. There was, after all, nothing that she could do. The man was quivering like jelly, but on his bed of soft feather pillows, he was no danger to himself. Now, all we could do was wait for his episode to pass. Book 3: Intervention [Part 2] I mused to myself that even the mighty magics of the gods couldn''t cure his severe obesity. There really is no substitute for human effort and discipline. Once his shaking ceased, Zariyah quickly dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a damp cloth, her concern unmistakable. As the man regained consciousness, she offered him a small cup of a deep red liquid, which I initially mistook for wine. He declined it, gathering himself with a deep breath. "No more alchemics, my dear," he declared, his voice quivering with newfound emotion. "No more, I think." His attendant silently returned to her position beside him. Gelgor thumped his chest expectantly, but no cough followed. "By the Gods, I''ve never felt so invigorated," he exclaimed with unbridled joy. "Everything seems so vibrant and alive. I feel as though I could run for miles without fatigue. What did you do?" he exclaimed, more a statement of wonder than a real question. ¡°We both know what happened here and now,¡± I said as solemnly as I could, trying to draw an air of mysticism around me. Gelgor looked troubled, his irreverent and incorrigible expression gave way to something rather new, humility. There was a heavy, pregnant pause filled with the weight of the moment and I could almost see the cogs in his mind whirl away as he began to do a mental account. For now came the matter of reciprocation and the question of the worth of a godly miracle. Finally he drew himself up, like a walrus about to bark a challenge. ¡°I am saved. By the grace of the gods I am saved. This is no mummer¡¯s trick, but a deep magic only found in the great temples, and then only reserved for the highborn,¡± he stated simply, his voice coarse with emotion. ¡°I was not worthy, and I can not give you an offering of even near like value to what I have just been blessed with. For if the words of scripture are true, then I have witnessed the healing light of Her mercy,¡± he continued, jowls quivering with religious rapture. I hid a flash of irritation. hoping that I masked it well. You fool, of course you can not, but at the very least you can hand over a bit of gold that you must have saved up over the years. Moreover, this was worrying, was the man trying weasel out on paying me? Had I been too clever for my own good? "The servants of the gods do not demand payment," I decided to add, keeping my voice even and doing my best not to grit my teeth. "But they cherish gratitude and offerings within one¡¯s own means.¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°My honey rose, be a dear and get the¡­Herald¡­ the¡± he commanded the girl, finishing his sentence with a meaningful look and a nod of his head toward one of the corners of the interior. She simply nodded once, my eyes following her form as she rose and went off to fulfill his wish. He turned to me. ¡°By Her light, forgive me, for my offering is but a trivial thing,¡± he said with no small amount of reverence as Zariyah returned with a small case. Glancing hesitantly at me, she opened and presented the contents to me. I had been expecting a small number of gold coins, but inside, of all things, was a small stack of paper. Upon the surface of the paper was the image of the sun rising behind the petals of an otherworldly bloom, printed in painstaking detail. The tendrils of the alien plant unfurled across the edges of the paper, their running lines framing the captured vision art. At the top corner of each piece were concentric circles, a watermark if I was not mistaken. Intriguing, I thought to myself. These were most certainly the promissory notes of the famed Al-Lazar, for what other use was a watermark than to prevent counterfeiting? Still, I did myself credit by performing my due diligence.
Lazarian Silver Promissory Note [Paper]
Durability 13/13
Still focused on Gelgor, my magic nonetheless returned to me the information I sought for the measly cost of one Mana. Intent and clear focus, I was slowly learning, was one of the cornerstones of performing the mystical arts correctly, at least for the NPCs of the world. This was a small mental trick I had taught myself, to focus with my mind¡¯s eye on whom I wanted my spell to target. Or perhaps this was simply the result of upgrading the spell? It didn¡¯t matter in the slightest, it just meant I just had to picture something in my mind that I had recently seen. Recently, of course, being the operative word. The spell failed when cast on something that I had seen only an hour away but was no longer in my line of sight. Perhaps, it was because the clarity of a mental image, as with all things, faded with time? I would need to engage in further experimentation. More to the point, the sum before me represented a considerable sum of, at my estimation, ten gold pieces. Almost three years of dangerous caravan work. Gelgor cast his eyes downward, a fleeting discomfort crossing his countenance. "I understand that it may seem crass to offer mere worldly scraps of paper, to place a value on the grace of the Goddess," he began anew, his gaze shifting to Zariyah. "But perhaps, since you have managed to fulfill one of my most cherished desires, then I may in turn fulfill one of yours," he insisted, glancing once more in the direction of his attendant. The mask of the oily merchant returned, any semblance of the humility I had witnessed evaporating like spit on a hot stone in the desert. It was almost refreshing to see human nature in its purest form. Book 3: Offering [Part 1] In the hearts of men, there exists a profound emptiness, a hole that yearns to be filled. If not filled with faith in something transcendent, it becomes fertile ground for something dark. In the absence of true belief, the allure of false deities and the seductive promises of Dust take root, offering illusory dreams and deceptive comforts. - The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC. ¡°And the gods would strike down a man if he would churlishly offer only monies to his guest who bring great gifts to their host. And, as I said before, too crass by far. A lesson that my former brother-in-law, to this day, still fails to acknowledge,¡± he said, his tone mockingly solemn as he steepled his hands in calculation. He sat up fully now, straightening his back and shifting his prodigious girth. ¡°Mine has been a lifetime spent understanding, and catering for, the desires of people. Forgive my bluntness, but you, young master Gilgamesh, one can read as an open book,¡± he explained. I felt a spike of anger, sensing a game at play, and struggled to hide my annoyance. Never had I enjoyed word games. ¡°No, no, do not take this the wrong way,¡± he said, holding up his hands to show that he meant no insult. ¡°I find it best to deal with honest men. And a man¡¯s desire is the most honest part of him. And, gifted as I am with this insight, perhaps I can make a suitable offering for the Goddess¡¯ grace. A votive offering for you,¡± He continued in a voice as smooth and slick as oil on stone. ¡°Tell me what do you know of Hazigadami, the people of the red gaze?¡± he asked, completely changing tack and throwing me off balance. It was a minuscule thing, a slight tightening of the jaw, but I imagined that his attendant looked uncomfortable. ¡°In truth. Master Gelgor¡­¡± I began, only to be soon cut off. The fat man, it seemed, did not require my answer. ¡°Please, call me Gelgor. Though it may be presumptuous of me, I would like to consider myself your friend,¡± the fat man interjected, bulldozing through my attempt at a reply. ¡°I would hazard a guess from your reaction, not much at all, no?¡± I could only nod mutely, completely caught up in his pace, and oblivious to where he was leading me. ¡°The Hazigadam, children of an ancient civilization lost to the fires of the Cataclysm. Punished by the gods for daring to touch that which no mortal should seek, or so the legends say. For their hubris, many believe that they brought doom to Gesthe. The Cataclysm that destroyed much of the world in ages past, with the long night brought about by their profanity,¡± the man explained, pausing for dramatic effect. ¡°Still, others say, in whispered voices in the darkest of corners, that they are demon-spawn, their features, the stigmata of their curse. Doomed they are to wander the lands with no home.¡± He continued with his little spiel, eyes lighting up like a village storyteller reveling at the sound of his own voice. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Until, of course, the Empire benevolently ''gifted'' them a barren strip of land that nobody else desired," he remarked with a sardonic edge. I wasn''t in the mood for a history lesson on the lore of this world, and my annoyance was probably as clear as day on my face. The one nugget of insight I managed to pick up was that, even in this realm, the all-too-human tendency to discriminate against those slightly different was thriving. My curiosity about Gelgor''s promised extra gift was the only thing keeping me here. Otherwise, I would have been getting ready to give a polite refusal and went about my way. "Of course, that''s beside the point. Hazigadam make excellent servants, loyal to a fault. They honor their contracts and spoken promises with unwavering dedication, much like our reverence for surahs of our sacred texts. It''s often said that they never tell a falsehood, though in my experience, they simply avoid lying to conceal the truth. Perhaps that''s why some liken them to devils. You know, those imaginative tales where devils adhere strictly to the terms of a deal, if not its underlying intention," Gelgor pondered, shaking his head with a hint of regret. "Furthermore, they are a misguided people. Even when witnessing a miracle, Zariyah would never humble herself to believe in the Divines. Her people, however, hold firm to the belief that there is one God. Isn''t that right, my dear?" he added with a tone steeped in long-standing exasperation. Zariyah turned her head away from us, but whether this was from embarrassment or anger, I did not know. Finally, I managed to weave together the threads of the conversation, grasping Gelgor''s idea of a gift. How naive I was, even after all I had been through. To someone of my supposed civilization, the idea of trading a person was fundamentally barbaric. Of course, I had to find the notion totally abhorrent. ¡°But the city of Al-Lazar is a free city and suffers no slaves within its walls,¡± I protested, hoping to sway Gelgor into a different form of compensation. "Your words wound me deeply. Would I, Gelgor, present you with a slave as a guest gift? Such an offense!" he exclaimed with mock seriousness, placing a hand over his heart. However, his eyes betrayed him, retaining their earlier light. Mockingly so. "Indeed, as you correctly point out, the City of Dust neither trades in nor permits slavery within its walls. It would be an affront to offer you the services of a mere slave," he began to explain, his voice tinged with no small amount of pride. "Instead, I present to you Zariyah''s contract. Rest assured, all her documents have been properly witnessed and stamped. The remaining term of her contract is..." the morbidly obese man paused, his gaze shifting upward as he calculated the precise duration. "I believe it to be the next forty-seven years and four months, if my memory serves me correctly," he concluded, as if we were discussing the trade of a horse or cow. Finally, there was a clear reaction from his attendant Zariyah, who decided to finally interject. Shaking her head, her fingers moved in a series of movements too precise and ordered to be anything other than a form of sign language. Book 3: Offering [Part 2]* ¡°Yes, yes, my dear. I know that, but perhaps this would be a better fate by far for you. Trust me on this. Also, perhaps the Herald would be even so kind as to allow you to visit your parents in the city,¡± he said pointedly in my direction, before whispering an old complaint under his breath. He must have noted my consternation at the exchange for he decided to explain further, ¡°You would think I would foist upon you a simple body servant? Of course not, I would be a thoughtless and inconsiderate host if I did that, yes?¡± I could only mutely nod, my earlier protestations flying out of the window at the thought of possessing such a delightful creature. "As my cupbearer, Zariyah, treasure of my heart, possesses a keen ability to detect poisons... and she is also adept at their concoction. Furthermore, she has an iron strength to her, which is indispensable on the perilous road. In her current state, she would be a valuable addition to your... entourage, indeed," he smiled as if he had stumbled upon something rather valuable. "But, there is the spark in her. It is almost poetic that I return a miracle with her magic, like in the tales of old. Fitting. She possesses the Gift of controlling the lesser element of Air, a modest talent, really. I dare say it''s not nearly as valuable as the price she paid for it, the sweetness of her voice," he chuckled, emitting a small guffaw. Zariyah looked at Gelgor, her eyes flashing daggers with unconcealed anger, her fists clenched at her sides. She began to rise, but in the end compelled herself to stay seated. Something told me that Gelgor had shared something too private, laid bare for all to see, a thing that should have been at the discretion of the soul to give. I did not blame her for taking umbrage. ¡°Yes, and she is local born. She knows this city well. A fitting gift, do you not think, Master Herald?¡± smiled Gelgor with his mocking gaze and serpent¡¯s smile. What was I to do? To reject a host¡¯s gift in this culture would be a most grievous insult, more so than even the debacle with Catalina considering the differences between their status. My mind ran through circles trying to get around the scruples of my common sense of decency. Perhaps this was the time for a less judgmental answer. After all, I could, and most definitely would, release her from her contract once she had rendered unto me certain services. For instance, like guiding me around the city, of course. But then again, who was I to cling to the morals of my own world? There was no one here to judge me, so why not take what was freely given? ¡°Very well, Master Gelgor, you have me. I must accept this gift most graciously given,¡± I nodded in his direction. The fat man¡¯s eyes lit up with a new fire, as if possessed something. A part of me felt the heavy hand of fate¡¯s touch at work here. ¡°Excellent, most excellent,¡± he exclaimed, clapping his hands in satisfaction. ¡°I will also gift to you her things, and they are of some value. Oh, and a word of advice, a Master must see to the well-being of those beneath them. Please know that the gift I have presented to you is in the best of conditions. Go now and prepare yourself Zariyah, you must be excited to return to your home city!¡± He clapped his hands again in command. At his orders, she rose to her feet, a muted huff of displeasure escaping her lips as she cast a sharp, resentful glance his way. My gaze lingered on her, captivated by the rhythmic sway of her hips and the melodic jingle of her bracelets, as she gracefully made her way towards a curtained partition of the wagon. It hit me then, what the meaning of Master had for these people. My subconscious finally pieced together all the little clues that had been left for me here and there. A Master, for the purpose of this world, was someone who had slaves, or their close cousins, indentured servants, beneath them. Or at the very least, I surmised that Gelgor¡¯s added inflection meant as such. Had I heard Laes referred to in such a manner? If so, just how many of Laes¡¯ ¡®employees¡¯ were nothing more than contracted slaves? No doubt the people of the caravan must have thought my companions my retainers, my chattel. I found myself despising these people even more for trapping me within the little rules and games of their culture. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Now that gifts have been exchanged, let us talk like men, over tea. Tell me of yourself, and off the lands you hail from. Yours is an interesting tale, of that I am sure. One wonders indeed how one can be blessed with gifts of the Goddess,¡± he said as began, with surprising adroitness, pouring fresh tea into dainty cups. ¡°I must confess that you, Master Gilgamesh, have made a believer of me. I have, quite literally, seen the light. Heavy were my sins,I feel, now that the shroud of ignorance has been lifted. And many were the years of my life spent in blasphemous words and actions. I hope that my offering goes a small way towards balancing Her scales,¡± he bemoaned, sighing and reaching for a teapot. It was a sigh that only the weight of wasted years could produce. The teapot itself was exquisitely shaped in the form of an elegant serpent, its body and handle formed by the creature''s entwined coils. The spout, designed as the snake''s extended neck, allowed the light amber tea to flow from its open mouth. ¡°But one, of course, must be careful, for the light can also blind as much as it reveals,¡± he added a little ruefully, placing the teapot down. ***** For the better part of an hour, or so it seemed to me, I wove a tapestry of half-truths and fabrications, crafting a tale for Gelgor that was both digestible and credible. I meticulously omitted any elements that might seem too ''fantastical'' for the sensibilities of this world''s primitive people. Instead, I spun a narrative grounded in the mundane, tales of family and the like. Skillfully, I sidestepped the details of how Avaria had chosen me, and my dark patron remained an unspoken shadow. As casually as possible, I asked the fat man about this world¡¯s tales regarding immortality. In turn, Gelgor unfurled the tapestry of his own past, regaling me with tales of his youth. The stories revealed a man driven by a deep, unquenchable thirst. His was a fusion of greed and the curiosity of an adventurer. As our dialogue meandered, it became apparent that Gelgor''s attachment was not in the material aspect that wealth provided, like jewels, fine things, and so forth. Nor was he particularly interested in the social status that wealth brought. Rather, he looked at it as a means to satiate his desires. A hedonist to his core, a failing that often afflicted the atheist. In him, I found an unexpected kindred spirit, a contrast to the ever-dour Laes. "I believe you once asked about a fountain of youth. Now that I''m hale again, I might just spend my time on a quest to find it," he joked, his jowls wobbling. But he must have noticed something serious and hungry in my expression, for his tone quickly shifted. "I¡¯ve heard that across the seas, the Warders of the Woods give or trade a fragment of their eternity to those with shorter lives. It¡¯s how they maintain their great kingdom, rewarding their mortal tributaries with what they need to fend off the one thing they fear most: their end. I know this to be true¡ªmy source is a man who was shipwrecked here long ago. His account is trustworthy, and there¡¯s truth in his words." "So I must journey across the sea to obtain my heart''s desire?" I mused, sipping from my cup. "And bargain with the King of First Children, no less. A tale worthy of saga and song," Gelgor remarked, his piggy eyes twinkling with newfound health. "Do tell me what you find over there, and in return, I''ll share the location of the fountain," he offered, masking his own desire behind a jovial smile. We continued to talk for another half a turn of the glass and just as our conversation began to circle back to earlier themes, as discussions are often wont to do, Zariyah interrupted us. She had shed her revealing attire for a flowing garb that, while covering everything, suggested much beneath. Around her shoulders was a small satchel, no doubt filled with her meager belongings. Her half-veil obscured her eyes, crimson eyes that caught and held my appreciative gaze as I rose to greet her, nearly upsetting the table in my haste. She gave me a wan smile, a forced silent acceptance of her new destiny. With a slight bow at the hip, she extended a roll of parchment with both hands towards me. Unraveling it, I observed it was inscribed in the Trade language, complete with stamps and official-looking notarization. Skimming the document confirmed Gelgor''s earlier declaration. She was indeed the property of the parchment''s holder, bound to serve for an additional forty-seven years and four months. Zariyah was now mine, to command as I deemed fit. Book 3: Offering [Part 3] Exiting the caravan master''s lavishly adorned wagon, I heaved open the weighty door, allowing Zariyah to pass first, as manners demanded. She cast a puzzled glance as if I had committed a social mishap before proceeding. I lingered momentarily, turning back to offer a final farewell to Gelgor. ¡°My thanks for your gracious hospitality, Mas¡­ Gelgor,¡± I said, nodding my head at him. ¡°Most odd that you allow the servant before the master, truly, you are a curious fellow,¡± the fat man remarked, not getting up from the bed of pillows. ¡°No, no, you have my thanks. The gift I have received is more precious than pearls or gems. Go with the gods, Gilgamesh of Uruk, but may their gaze rest lightly upon you.¡± I simply acknowledged this with another nod and closed the heavy door behind me. The clean afternoon air greeted me, free of the pungent smoke that had been almost like a living thing in the wagon. Taking a deep breath, I took a moment to roll my shoulders to free them from the tension that unknowingly built up. There was now the matter of Zariyah, and how I would deal with her. Casting my Identify spell on her, I took the first step in understanding her.
Zariyah Al¡¯Abadi - Wind Mage [Human lvl.14]
Health: 192/192 Stamina: 37/39 Mana: 15/15
She was exactly as Gelgor had promised. The almost two hundred points of Health was what the fat man must have meant when he was going on about her ¡®iron strength¡¯. Zariyah turned around to look at me quizzically, expectantly almost. Behind this was a tautness, a tight expression that marred the lines of her exotic face. In her mind, I imagined that she must be feeling cast adrift, discarded like something unwanted. Like a heavy sea, fate had cast her on new unknown shores. The silence stretched out uncomfortably, its duration becoming almost painfully awkward. Zariyah started to sign toward me, her movements elegant and swift. But, I could only respond with a look of incredulity and confusion, her intended meaning completely eluding me. Observing my bewilderment, she abandoned the servility she had shown to Gelgor and rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. It was clear that I was being looked down upon, and there was no mistaking it. I could discern that she was possessed of the same groundless pride I had encountered from those in servitude. I had witnessed it when interacting with the underpaid, their expressions of disdain silently conveying my unworthiness of their time, as if they would rather be anywhere else but doing their job. If this was the measure of Gelgor''s gift, then I felt a strong inclination to return her. Yet, something held me back, perhaps the last vestige of my misplaced chivalry. To send her back now would be seen as a grave insult, and if I were to offer an explanation for such a decision mere minutes after receiving the gift, I had no doubt that her fate would be an exceedingly bleak one. I felt almost swindled. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. But, perhaps, we had simply started off on the wrong foot. I was a forgiving man, and everyone deserves a second chance. In truth, I was also a little sympathetic toward her plight. ¡°Do it again, that thing you did with your hands. The thing you use as a substitute for proper speech,¡± I said flatly, in a calm and even voice. I too had my pride, childish though it was. All my life I had been taught that although we were all different, we were all, no matter our differences, essentially of equal value. That everyone was deserving and worthy of respect. However, this world sorely tested the limits of my indoctrination. How dare she... this woman. No, that wasn''t quite right. I searched my mind for a word and concept unfamiliar to me. Inferior, the voices suggested in a shadowy whisper. This one was beneath me. At first, I was shocked at this alien thought, but in a way, it also made startling sense. This was the truth of the world. As there were inferior and barbaric cultures, so too must there be inferior people. It was the only logical conclusion. Looking at it through this lens made much more sense. Yes, how dare this inferior treat me in such a manner? Even as I was reaching this conclusion, she continued with her signing and gave me a challenging smile, or rather, a smirk, if I were to be honest. Her fingers wove words that clashed with her demeanor and attire, phrases more commonly heard in the roughest of taverns. ¡°You will find that my manhood is more than adequate for what I must do next,¡± I stated in a voice as cold as the first frosts. The magic of my Identify spell had taught me the meaning of her words, her taunts and insults now clear as if written in bold print. A blush slowly crept over her delicate features as she realized that I had understood her and a single hand went over her mouth, which had formed into a large O. "I''m unsure of what constitutes an appropriate punishment for such brazen disrespect. You are fortunate, as it is frowned upon in my culture for a man to strike a woman," I remarked, my voice rising slightly, relishing the fear I sensed emanating from her. Around us, people began to take notice, stealing quick glances before resuming their activities. Some, however, lingered, intrigued by what would unfold. "However, if you see me as an animal, then I shall act accordingly. Place your hands on the steps and bend over," I commanded. She regarded me with a regal disdain, then turned and surprisingly complied with my directive, showing no hesitation or resistance. Zariyah maintained her composure, but a subtle quiver betrayed her emotions. While she knew I had the authority to issue such orders, she most likely never dreamed I would go about doing such a thing in a public place. Our growing audience comprised individuals she had journeyed with, people who knew her, conversed with her, perhaps even counted her as a friend or acquaintance. Servants, to some extent, shared in their master''s status, and I imagined she had enjoyed some measure of that prestige in this group. Zariyah''s pride was her vulnerability, and humiliation was her Achilles'' heel. I stood behind her, lightly placing a hand on the small of her back. Overwhelmed, she began to cry, the emotional flood breaking through like a dam bursting. Taking a step back, I met her gaze firmly before speaking. ¡°Get up, there''s no need for this. Consider this a lesson, a lesson I will only teach once, treat others as you wish to be treated. I know you are intelligent enough to understand this, and pretending otherwise won''t serve you well. You may be mute, but you''re not dumb,¡± I said in a husky voice. She looked down in muted response. ¡°Now, it''s time for you to meet the rest of my entourage, and I must bid farewell to the Ravens before we enter the City of Dust,¡± I commanded, without looking back to check if she followed. It was almost scary how acclimatized I had become to this culture. Book 3: The Feathered Gates [Part 1] The highest good is water, it nourishes all things and competes with none. - Aphorism from the Land of Streams. The desert sun had sunk a little lower in the sky but still beat down, fierce and strong. The glare from the refracted light, rather than the heat itself, was more of a problem. I was forced to shield my eyes, as the white shimmering sands were almost painful to look at. I found my companions, all of them, outside our borrowed wagon, seeing to the last of our preparations. Laes and Abas Yar, who had brought along our Donkey Patches, were waiting for me. Khalam, however, was not present. Zariyah had reapplied her mask of proud stoic indifference, showing a mastery of self-control that would have been impossible for me, given the situation. However, I knew it for what it was, simply a flimsy mask. It was the paper shield of the powerless and the only thing that protected her against the reality of her situation. Elwin, with a knowing smirk, surveyed Zariyah from head to toe before offering a small wave. Kidu, ever reserved, spared her only a fleeting glance before returning to load Patches. Larynda just peeked out at the exotic woman. Her Whispermews also popped out from her clothes to take a gander. However, Cordelia''s reaction was the most startling. Initially surprised at first, her gaze on my new servant quickly shifted to one of disdain, resembling the look one gives upon discovering a stain on a pristine piece of clothing. Once he noticed our presence, Laes stopped his conversation with Abas Yar and the caravan master¡¯s eyes lit up in surprise and recognition, once he realized who I had brought in tow. ¡°If you will forgive me, Hera¡­ Gilgamesh, why do you bring one of the Hazigadami?¡± Cordelia began in a forced voice, only to be cut off by Laes. ¡°Zariyah, why are you in the company of Master Gilgamesh? Perhaps, on an errand for Gelgor?¡± the horse-faced man asked her. He was worried, but he hid it well. Zariyah shook her head and pointed a delicate finger to the roll of paper in my hand, her contract of service. Cordelia narrowed her eyes in reaction, the expression marring her otherwise beautiful features. ¡°I see, but under what circumstance¡­ that Zlesh always boasted¡­ I mean, Gelgor, was always proud of possessing¡­ your err¡­ service,¡± the man stumbled in response. ¡°Yes, Gelgor has decided that she will be traveling with us now. We needed a guide, and she will serve that function.¡± ¡°I see. On that note, I believe I have some advice for you as this is no doubt your first time to visit Al-Lazar¡± he offered. I simply gave him a nod in return, eager to change the subject. The man rubbed his chin before answering, ¡°Like all cities, beware the rougher parts. I am sure Zairiyah knows more about that than I. You, and your companions, would do well to avoid the Dust dens. Many of them prey on foreigners who come to dream the Dust dreams, and you will pretty quickly find yourself with no coin, thrown out onto the street. Stay away from the Dust, it is a honeyed trap, a temporary escape, and nothing more,¡± for a moment the ugly man almost looked nostalgic. ¡°But apart from the dangers of Dust, Al-Lazar has grown fat on its trade and there is much opportunity to be had. The little lady there,¡± he added, looking at Larynda, ¡°would be most welcome at the Alchemist¡¯s Guild. The mortar and pestle are safer, by far, than an adventurer¡¯s bronze badge. However, my duty to Hamsa, to bring her to this city, is fulfilled. Her destiny is now in her own hands,¡± he suggested. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°A man as martially inclined as yourself will find easy opportunity within. Work on the walls as a guard for the council is well-paid and easy, so long as the people beneath the waves are quiet,¡± he continued, running a hand through oily strands that served as his hair. ¡°However, there is greater opportunity for advancement and wealth by signing up with one of the Shareholder houses of the city. But, that would be difficult without an introduction from the Mercenary¡¯s Guild,¡± the caravan master mused, unconsciously rolling his shoulders. ¡°Ah, there is also the upcoming competition, the Festival of the Undrawn, held around this time of the year. The prizes, and notice of the powerful, may well be worth the effort for you to participate, though you would be testing yourself against some of the strongest fighters in the land. Still, I think you would do quite well,¡± he added, sounding a little wistful. ¡°This is quite a lot to take in all at once, why did we not speak of this before?¡± I interjected a little sharply. I could feel my reserves of patience wearing thin already. ¡°Yes, as for that I had I had wished for¡­¡± began Laes, only to be interrupted by the red-haired woman. ¡°And why must we bring one of them with us?¡± bristled Cordelia with withering disdain, devoid now of her calm, and looking quite irate. Zariyah just took these unkind words in stride. Not even batting an eyelid, her features were as untrammeled as a calm lake. I had a feeling I could learn something from that. Laes turned to Cordelia, and addressed her politely, if not a little tersely, ¡°Lady de Aserac, would it not be best to trust in Gilgamesh¡¯s judgment on this matter? Zariyah¡¯s value is without question, to that I can attest. Knowing that her presence causes the lady offense, I would offer to buy her contract, if I knew doing so would not offend Master Gelgor,¡± he reproached adroitly. ¡°I think it best she joins us for the time being as we have no good knowledge of the city, do we?¡± I asked of my companions, and hearing no denial I continued with my reasoning, ¡°I would not trade away this advantage at this initial juncture. Also, I do not believe it is just to judge someone by their appearance or race,¡± I added, the last comment the result of years of ingrained education. I made a mental note to ask Cordelia why exactly she disliked Zariyah¡¯s people. Unlike my world, there might be a very good reason for the existence of prejudices on this one. ¡°Her presence is fine by me. Easy on the eyes and she could be useful, so she gets my vote. Don¡¯t see the harm in it either way,¡± commented Elwin, looking at my new servant appreciatively. There was a flash of disdain that crossed Zariyah¡¯s eyes, but was soon smoothly hidden with consummate skill. To this, the big man simply snorted in reply. The man had grown used to some of the Rogue¡¯s more inane and annoying remarks. Cordelia looked at the pair, and seeing no support there, instead looked to me with a plea in her eyes. ¡°The Hazigadami are unclean¡­ they are not worthy¡­¡± she half-begged. It was time to take a few liberties, playing the part of the holy man. ¡°Cordelia, you vowed to follow me in all things. Follow me in this. The Goddess wills this to be so¡­ think of this as a test,¡± I implored, looking her directly in the eye. She seemed to draw a measure of calm from my words, my command giving her zeal, new direction. She nodded to herself, taking my words in as if they were gospel. ¡°A test¡­ it is a test¡­¡± she whispered to herself in a voice filled with revelation. Behind her, I could see Elwin rolling his eyes. The man was incorrigible. Book 3: The Feathered Gates [Part 2] Seeing that the matter was decided, Laes cleared his throat. ¡°To answer your earlier question, it was because, in all honesty, I had hoped that you would stay with us, but with the issue of Catalina, that is now dust in the wind. I would have still made the offer to you, but you and Khalam are like two Hauntworms in a pen,¡± he stated, giving out a long sigh. It was a sigh that had become frayed and weary over the years, more becoming of a long-married and unhappy wife than a leader of a trading caravan. ¡°I will let you in on something. Khalam thinks he hides it well, but everyone knows the man had a thing for Kalkassin¡¯s wife, well, widow now. It did not sit well with him. And it would not have sat well with me to leave you without a word of advice before you venture forth the city. Knowledge is both a sword and shield. Pardon me for quoting an old saying, but the old words remain with us for a reason. It would serve you to arm yourself well, and you choose wisely in Zariyah. Gelgor¡¯s gift is a gift well given. Perhaps one day you will tell me of his reasons,¡± ¡°Indeed, perhaps I will. But, I believe now is the time for us to part, Master Laes. It has not been the smoothest of journeys, but it has been an educational one. If we should meet again under more peaceful circumstances, then we will speak again.¡± ¡°As you say Master Gilgamesh, and with that I, too, bid you farewell,¡± finished the Caravan master with a low bow and a thin smile, showing just the right amount of deference. Time with these people had slowly taught me of their ways. The Beastmaster Abas lingered for a while, watching Laes¡¯ retreating shape. "The caravan master is a difficult man, yet honorable in his own way. It''s clear what gift you must have offered Gelgor to cause him to give up one of his prized treasures. Your grace deserves blessings, and may Her name be forever praised. It''s comforting to know that salvation exists in this world. Meeting Her Herald has been my greatest honor. You will always be welcomed among us, for as long as the Ravens are guided by her light," the old man spoke with reverence, placing both palms on the back of his head. This gesture, peculiar yet meaningful, signified both gratitude and a profound apology. Such are the intricacies of these unique and backward cultures. After bidding me farewell, the old man followed after Laes, and I realized that there was something new about him. His back was straight, his stride longer and filled with pride. Abas Yar wore his newfound vigor like a badge of honor, and I silently wished him all the best in his journey ahead. My magic had done more than just heal his body, it had restored his faith in the Goddess. A false goddess. A being of great power that, nonetheless, I refused to accept as a divine being. However, people had a right to cling to whatever gave them hope and meaning in their little lives, misguided as they might be. The sun continued to beat down on us, relentless in its efforts. As a group, we started to make our way toward the gates, waving at the caravan behind us. Looking at my team, I could see that it was Kidu, of all people, who showed the greatest strain. Sweat stained his clothes, and the small areas where his skin was exposed to the desert light were beginning to pink and redden. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Elwin and Larynda were behind me, the small girl leading Patches by the reins. The large donkey was smart and faithful and I doubted she needed to be led, anyway. The pair of them were talking of things of little consequence, mostly trifling conversation of their respective homes¡¯ plants and animals. The two ladies walked together. Though Cordelia wore her beatific smile and Zariyah her stone mask, it did little to hide the thick current of tension between them. Zariyah¡¯s presence was as much a test of tolerance for Cordelia as Cordelia¡¯s presence was for her. I imagined that, had my new attendant been able to speak, they would have been spitting lightning at each other. Throughout this sweltering ordeal, Kidu remained, as ever, an immovable mountain of dour silence, a steadfast rock in a river of emotional current. Arriving at the gates, I paused to appreciate their grandeur. Crafted from a natural rock formation, the gatehouse stood imposingly, with no visible bricks or mortar in most of its structure. Massive doors made of bronze were swung ajar, allowing the traffic in and out of the city. What was the most curious, however, was that many seabirds had made this place their home. Their nests were scattered about at the higher levels and their squawks and cries could be heard clearly, above even the noise coming from the city. Curiosity piqued, I decided to use Identify and turned to Zariyah. ¡°Tell me of that,¡± I asked, pointing at the gates of the city, before I remembered my manners and added, ¡°Please.¡± The Feathered Gate? What do you wish to know? ¡°Tell me of their construction, as much as you know, anyway,¡± I clarified. She pursed her lips and thought before her hands delicately wove their answer. I noticed that her attitude had much improved. They were carved out of the Guidance Rock. A symbolic gesture, as it was the birds that had guided the founders of the city here. Over the long years, as Al-Lazar¡¯s conflict with the people of the sea continued, the Guidance Rock was then incorporated into the defenses of the city. Despite being a part of the fortifications, it is still the foremost place of welcome where new entrants are greeted into the city before they pass under the arches. The doors of the Feathered Gates are of Dwarven make, steel coated with spelled bronze. Made by the dwarf Zarhit the Dreamer, they say that it takes only the strength of a single man to open them. Not only that, it is said, but he was the first of the mountain people to have partaken of the Dust dreams. For the first time, I saw her give a genuine smile. She looked to be happy in telling us of her home. However, the moment was soon ruined by Cordelia. ¡°Do not trust too easily the lies of a Hazigadami,¡± interrupted Cordelia softly, the trace of a rueful smile at the corner of her lips. ¡°Yes, Hazagadami, I too know the language of the unspoken words. The gates were made by the Quassians under contract and there was no magic used in their construction. Men made those gates, or so history would tell you. I wonder at this one¡¯s usefulness, even as a guide,¡± she added smoothly. A few cracks appeared on Zariyah¡¯s stoic mask, but for the most part, it held, and she kept her temper and offered Cordelia no rebuttal. Admirable discipline. I simply shrugged, as it was only a minor curiosity. History, after all, had a way of changing over the long years as memories grew dim and dull. The patina of time had a habit of covering most of the salient details. Book 3: A Place of Rest [Part 1] With just a small touch of inspiration, the wings of the imagination unfold. Each thought, a feather on these wings, carries the mind higher, soaring over landscapes of wonder and possibility. - Attributed to the playwright Vlan di Panoli. The guards at the gate were not quite as physically imposing as I thought they were when I had first looked upon them from a distance, at least not when compared to the giant man of the north. They were all, however, well-armed, with tall halberds being their main armaments, as well as long curved knives at their waists. Under the flowing robes of their clothes, the glint of metal could be seen. Riveted chain mail, if I was not mistaken. One of their number, a slack-jawed and mean-eyed creature with a dirty black beard was the first to greet us. A superior smirk on his face, he looked at us as if we were common filth. ¡°May the eyes of the hallowed gods lay lightly upon you, traveler,¡± he greeted, his words impeccably polite, their manner anything but. ¡°What brings¡­ such a fine-looking group to the greatest of cities, Al-Lazar,¡± he inquired, giving the women of the group a thorough scan with his eyes. I noticed that his gaze lingered on Larynda more than was proper. ¡°Adventurers, come to lend our blades to the defense of the city, and to test their skill at the tournament of the drawn festival,¡± Elwin answered for us. Showing his badge for the gate guard¡¯s inspection, his feigned manner was weaselly and servile. ¡°Festival of the Undrawn, foreigner. Do they teach nothing of the culture of Al-Lazar in the far lands? Pffft, you seem to be who you say you are¡­ go through!¡± he corrected with a smirk, ordering us in even as he began the inspection of the next group of arrivals. Well, that was easier than I thought. I gave Elwin a nod of appreciation as we made our way through the bustle of the gates. Passing underneath the stone arch, I could not help but to notice a strange feeling come over me, like a sucking pop, as if I was passing into a bubble. Odd, to say the least. When I asked if my companions felt a similar sensation they all, with the exception of Cordelia, just looked at me strangely, as if I was touched in the head. Was this the sensation of area transition or something different? An odd detail for this game. A few moments later I was gifted with a sweltering rush of new power. I felt gifted and fulfilled. Satisfied. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Quest Complete: Escort Larynda to Al-Lazar
About time that damn quest finished. A part of me had been wondering just exactly what the world considered to be Al-Lazar. For instance, was it the local area, the political borders, or the sphere of influence? Turned out it was within the actual city limits itself. More importantly, however, completing the quest gave me a thousand points of experience that easily took me over to the next level. Quickly, almost as if by automatic reflex, I assigned the attribute points into Constitution. With the timer ticking away I hurriedly assigned the bonus skill point into the Drain spell. Then it happened. My sight dimmed, swiftly eclipsed by myriad pinpricks of light. A multi-hued current, akin to a vibrant stream, unfurled before my eyes. Along its fringes, minuscule entities nibbled away at its luminous sheen, a process that felt both random and inevitable. Was this the essence of magic, revealed in its purest form? Had my gaze pierced the veil into a realm beyond comprehension, a world shrouded in mystery and ineffable wonder?
You have learned Greater Drain (lvl.1)
¡° ¡®Ello, there, Gil. You alright? Or you having another one of your moments?¡± asked Elwin, his voice piercing through the shroud. The mysteries of the universe were about to be laid bare, and this! This common Rogue had interrupted my epiphany. My hands were gripped in fists, heavy with the weight of my frustration. So easy would it be to smash his face in, but taking a deep breath, I mastered myself. ¡°Fine¡­ fine. Just glad that we made it here,¡± I answered him with a forced half-smile. I could see that, for some reason or other, Cordelia was mumbling a prayer. ¡°So, like, the big man was wondering where we would be staying. I, for one, would suggest somewhere a little easier on the coffers, at least until we get our bearings,¡± he mused, before looking pointedly in Zariyah¡¯s direction, but failing to draw a reaction. Seeing the gist of his intent, I turned to Zariyah and prepared my magic. ¡°You, where would you suggest we go?¡± The proud woman looked down before she hesitantly signed her response. I know of a place, not far from here. If by the grace of the one god, it is still there, I would suggest that we stay at the Begonia¡¯s Shade. It was as good a suggestion as any, and I looked to my companions for their response. Kidu and Elwin¡¯s faces were blank masks of confusion. Larynda, childishly curious, tried to ape Zariyah''s movements. Only Cordelia¡¯s face showed understanding disagreement, a slight and barely perceptible elevation of her nose, the only sign that spoke of her disapproval. Book 3: A Place of Rest [Part 2] ¡°Then we go to this ¡®Begonia¡¯s Shade.¡¯ Lead on,¡± I commanded. The Hunter and the Rogue gave me a quizzical look but did not question the exchange. ¡°The lady can not speak. She can only speak with her hands,¡± I explained to them, seeing their looks. ¡°The language of the unspoken words,¡± I decided to add, remembering Cordelia¡¯s words from before. We followed the mute woman through the main thoroughfare. Elwin walked alongside her, throwing her the occasional question, to which she just nodded or shook her head. This close to the gates, the city was bustling with activity. The press of traffic was heavy but was flowing in an orderly fashion. However, just as I was thinking this, the gods decided to be contrary. A cart overturned, its goods spilling out like the innards of a disemboweled monster, and stopped traffic coming from the opposite direction. However, the guards quickly set up a small cordon, redirecting the traffic in a calm and professional manner. Just a little further into the city, I could already see the stark contrast with Ansan. People generally wore clothes of a higher cut and quality, and their speech, what little I heard anyway, seemed a little freer and less guarded. The guards within the city itself, rather than those on the walls, were equipped in a more ornate fashion, their equipment more like a badge of their office, rather than their tools of war. Their armor, resplendent in bronze gilding, at least visible where their robes parted to reveal the uniform craftsmanship, was adorned with motifs of running vines and blossoming flowers of the Dust. They wore no helms. Instead they wore keffiyehs of black and white checks, which shielded them from the relentless overhead sun. At their side hung, not swords, but small truncheons, their tips capped in gold. A symbol of authority, rather than aggression. Along the road there were no beggars crying out for alms and the streets were, for the most part, clean of detritus and manure, common to primitive civilizations. More importantly, I saw none of the trappings of slavery. No collars of iron did I see, nor did I hear the crack of the slaver¡¯s whip. It seemed that Al-Lazar was indeed a free city. This was a truly prosperous place and there was a spark here that energized me. So long had I been under the open skies and endless horizons that it felt cramped to now be rubbing shoulders with the hoi polloi of Al-Lazar. The feeling lasted only for a moment, though, for I had always preferred the close confines of the city, with all of its trappings of civilization. A small child bumped into me, an innocent mistake by all appearances, but I knew not to take this world lightly anymore. My hand, guided by the harsh lessons of this world, whipped out like a snake, catching the small thing¡¯s wrist, with the snap of breaking bone. His mouth gaped wide in a silent scream, unable to voice the pain he felt. As the horror of his situation dawned on him, all he could do was helplessly open and close his mouth. Was he another mute? No, that didn''t seem right. A quick glance around, and my eyes caught Zariyah. She was making unusual hand gestures. When our eyes met, she offered me a small, enigmatic smile. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Already useful, I thought to myself. I would have to remember that she had some mastery over the wind and air itself. Panicked, the urchin desperately tried to struggle away, but my grip was iron and my mercy was in short supply. Al-Lazar was a prosperous place but not, it seemed, free of crime, the cancer that ate away at the core of a real society. It was time to correct that. It was time to be the good that you wanted to see in the world. With Elwin''s help, we started to shake the child down, the passing guards remaining indifferent to the little one''s plight, as he was invisible to them. Together, we relieved the would-be pickpocket of a meager haul, which included some cheap jewelry, a handful of copper coins, and most importantly, one of my precious potions, which fell from the disheveled thief''s clothing. The young scamp cried silently, tears flowing, but I harbored no sympathy for someone who had attempted to steal from me. In my mind, I believed I was merely seeking fair compensation for the inconvenience they had caused. Elwin, sure that the thief had nothing left on his person, delivered a swift kick to the thief''s rear end, a smirk playing on his lips. The child swiftly vanished into a nearby alley, having received a lesson that, while harsh, was undeniably just. The penalty for theft is a hand, signed Zariyah, her expression grim. Larynda, who had observed the urchin with no small amount of sympathy, had refrained from voicing any objections about my handling of the cretin. Instead, she just shook her head, a small sigh escaping her lips and acknowledging the harsh reality of our world. We both understood that this was the unvarnished truth of our existence. Proceeding down the road after that little introduction to city life in Al-Lazar, we veered away from the main thoroughfare. Turning right at another corner, we were greeted by the sight of a fountain, its central figure a mermaid, sculpted from the same yellow stone that formed the city''s walls. Perched elegantly atop a smooth rock, her hair, intertwined with kelp strands, bestowed upon her an ethereal, almost mystical charm. From a pot nestled at her side flowed a cascade of water, its cheerful gurgle an almost melodic tune. Around the fountain, the city folk gathered, their actions reverent and measured as they filled their large jugs and amphorae with the life-giving water, participating in what seemed less like a daily chore and more a solemn rite. Our new Hazagadami guide, upon seeing the landmark, picked up her pace, breaking almost into a run. We chased after her, and Larynda, unable to keep up, with her heavy pack and short legs, was scooped up by Kidu. A minute later we caught up to Zariyah with an annoyed Patches in tow. She stood breathless, in the middle of the street, as the passersby gave her a wide berth and an occasional odd look. The exotic woman was looking, as if entranced, at a humble building, no different from the others, save for the multitude of potted plants of various shades that adorned the flat roof and hung over the wall. It was a riot of colors, with bright yellows clashing with light pinks and deep reds. Such a palette might have been considered garish on a person, but here, amidst the lush greenery, it bestowed upon the building a unique splendor. Rising above the green was a towering chimney, enshrouded in creeping vines. A Barajeel, or wind tower, I surmised. Hanging above the entrance was a wooden sign depicting begonias in full bloom, the paint a little faded from the sun. Beneath the sign were brass chimes that tinkled and danced in the gentle breeze. Humming an unknown melody, a woman with dark skin emerged from the doorway, cradling a watering can in her arms. There was something strikingly familiar about her features, which, despite bearing the gentle marks of time, were still vaguely attractive. The woman began tending to the plants near the entrance, her movements graceful and practiced. Suddenly, her eyes caught sight of Zariyah, standing solitary amidst the bustling street. A mixture of surprise and delight transformed her expression. She brought a hand to her mouth, muffling a shriek of joy that escaped her lips, and her watering can tumbled to the ground with a clang. I watched the unfolding scene with a sense of resigned anticipation. Was this to be another story event? Book 3: A Mother鈥檚 Love Arbitration, a weighty term for a seemingly quaint custom, is both barbaric and enlightening in equal measure. Let us look into the origins of one of the cornerstones of Al-Lazarian culture. In the days of yore, shortly after the inception of Al-Lazar and the discovery of the properties of the Dust, a river of gold flowed into the city. The Shareholder families, the opulent dynasties of Al-Lazar, driven by insatiable avarice, plunged headlong into conflicts, each vying for a greater slice of the boundless wealth. The streets ran red as the newly amassed riches were exchanged for gleaming steel. Waves of violence tore through all the districts, threatening to consume the very bones of the city, if left unchecked. More often than not, victories were costly, at best, and at worst, defeats in all but name. It was during these tumultuous times that the families, sensing the dire consequences, were compelled to seek accord. Two influential and prestigious houses, Salahaem and Alim, resolved their disputes with a single representative from their respective houses. They would fight until one of them surrendered, or perished. This marked the inception of what we now know as the time-honored tradition of Arbitration, a practice universally embraced by all the Shareholder families of the venerable city of Dust. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. At first, I found myself uncharacteristically touched by the fragile glimmer of happiness that I saw. I possessed a small fortune in metal coins and scraps of paper, yet it all seemed so paltry in front of this display. But this was not my family and I would never see my family ever again. This forsaken realm, this cruel game or whatever perverse creation it was, made me realize that I was very much alone here. Empty. The two red-eyed women embraced one another with a tear-stained intensity that laid bare the raw repressed depths of their emotions. That was the first time I saw Zariyah smile with true unbridled joy. I saw it now, their shared features that were so strikingly similar. These two were bound by blood. They could only be family, perhaps sisters, born of the same womb, or a mother and her beloved daughter. "Zari, my dear child, you have returned to us!" exclaimed the older woman, her voice trembling with emotion as she reluctantly released Zariyah from their tearful embrace. Zariyah''s mother then, I mused while my companions and I maintained a respectful distance. "But how? I thought I would never see you again in this lifetime. Your contract was meant for the next... Do you have no words for your mother, Zari? What is wrong?" Zariyah''s mother continued, her smile still present, but a hint of anxious concern creeping into her voice. Zariyah shook her head forlornly, her delicate hand moving to her throat. A profound silence hung in the air, one that I felt compelled to break. "Zariyah Al¡¯Abadi is mute, though I do not know the circumstances of how this came to be," I stated neutrally. The woman regarded me with a puzzled expression, but as understanding dawned in her eyes, I could almost hear the sound of her newfound hope shattering. "You possess her contract?" she stated more as a fact than a question, her voice taking on a frosty and defiant tone. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Gilgamesh is indeed the Hazagadami¡¯s master,¡± answered Cordelia smugly, with no small amount of relish. ¡°Cordelia, please, there is no need for that. Yes, I currently hold her contract or whatever it is you people call it. It was sort of foisted upon me by a Gelgor of the Crows, a reward for services rendered. The tale is quite lengthy, and I would be more than willing to explain, if you could perhaps offer us shelter from the sun," I suggested diplomatically. "Of course, this way, samasa," the mother accepted, with a hint of embarrassment, realizing the spectacle she had caused in public. "My name is Naira, and I am Zariyah''s mother. I also happen to be the humble innkeeper of the Begonia''s Shade. Please, follow me, and share with me the story of my daughter," she introduced herself, straightening her back, her voice now more flustered than frosty. Naira wore a light orange abaya that covered the better part of her body, cinched at the waist with a red sash. But it did little to hide her generous figure. It was easy to mistake them for sisters, for her face was almost a mirror to her daughter¡¯s, just a little more worn and well-used by time. However, their tilted eyes were the same. An arresting, distinctive crimson shade that was as intriguing as it was disturbing. She ushered us into the flowery inn, the inside noticeably cooler than outside on the streets. The inn had a high ceiling, and soft light was filtered in through opaque glass windows. Faded pictures adorned the walls, featuring a myriad of flowers I had never encountered. Pleasing to the eye, their exotic beauty was vividly captured by the artist¡¯s skill. Earthenware jugs lined the shelves on the back wall, labeled with spidery flowing letters. The center of the inn¡¯s main floor was dominated by a raised wooden platform that probably served as some sort of stage. At the edges of the room, a few people sat cross-legged on pillows at low tables, separated by a simple thin cloth partition to provide a measure of privacy. They barely gave us a second glance as they were already deep in their cups, even at such an early hour. In a corner, by one of the windows, an old man played a zither. The music, if you could call it that, sounded droning and discordant to my ears. His instrument was trimmed with gold and fancy patterns, and was most likely of high craftsmanship. Wasted on his lack of talent. Noticing the self-satisfied look on his face, I hoped that he wasn¡¯t being well paid for inflicting his music upon us. In my mind, his brazen display of poor skill was simply another form of public masturbation. A man, thick and brutish-looking, stood behind the bar, his grim face a crisscross of scars from fights won or lost. Probably won, I thought to myself, for he looked almost wider than he was tall, with a thick paunch and beefy arms corded with muscle. Wiping a mug with a cloth, he simply nodded to us as Naira led us into a room towards the back. I couldn¡¯t help but notice the mean mace at his hip as we passed him, not that that monster needed a weapon. Bowing hurriedly, a worried-looking boy in white servant¡¯s clothes interrupted the proprietress, leaning in to whisper something in her ear and causing her to frown. She swiftly concealed this momentary lapse behind a fixed smile and gestured us to follow her into one of the back rooms. The room that Naira led us to had a smooth square stone table, carved from a single slab of gray rock and surrounded by sturdy wooden chairs. The innkeeper urged us to sit, a new and professional smile on her face. A pretty little serving girl knocked at the door, bringing with her an iron kettle and some cups, and depositing them onto the table before politely excusing herself with a small bow. Naira poured us tea, but a small tremble in her hand betrayed her anxiety. She sat down at the table with us, directly opposite me, and gestured for us to drink. The tea was piquant, a jasmine blend, if I was not mistaken, but I hardly had time to savor it, as Naira began her questions barely after the first sip. ¡°Now that I have shared tea with you, I can wait no longer. Please tell this mother, for she has not seen her daughter in many years,¡± she begged of me. ¡°Very well. Naira, is it?¡± I began to answer, sampling the unfamiliar name. ¡°But I think it best that you hear it from your daughter.¡± ¡°But she is¡­¡± she started, defeat edging into her voice. ¡°Indeed, which is why Cordelia will help your daughter tell her tale. She can communicate in¡­ what is it again? Ahh, yes, the unspoken words. You will help, won¡¯t you Cordelia?¡± I asked, adjusting myself in the chair and taking another sip of the tea. Though I doubted things would get violent, I decided to err on the side of caution, keeping my Mana in reserve rather than using it on consecutive uses of Identify. ¡°As you command, my lo¡­ Gilgamesh,¡± the red-haired warrior woman replied, casting a sidelong glance at the Hazagadami. And so a composed Zariyah recounted her tale. Book 3: The Begonia鈥檚 Shade [Part 1] The air was tumultuous, yearning for freedom from the domain of her parents, eager to explore beyond the reach of the expansive primordial oceans and the tranquil, silent night. Distressed by this, Water and Darkness endeavored to craft both a haven and guardian for their wayward daughter, aiming to shield her from the emptiness that lay beyond. This they called the Earth. - The Birth of the Gesthe, by an unknown author. Cordelia delivered Zariyah''s tale to a half-believing Naira in a tone that was polite, if not a little clipped and curt. With Cordelia to help speed things along, I had hoped for a brief rendition before we negotiated for lodging. Unfortunately, the mute woman decided to inflict us with her story, her ¡®truth¡¯, as it were. She decided to start right at the beginning of the whole thing, without abbreviation but with all of the drama. The woman haltingly told her tale with her hands. Her fingers were jittery, a stark relief and juxtaposition to Cordelia¡¯s lilting melodious voice. A voice that, although pleasant, nonetheless held undertones like she was constantly judging the Hazagadami Her father had been a dreamer. He had wanted to be more than a man who had married an innkeeper¡¯s daughter to inherit the establishment. A path that, in part, had been chosen for him. Once Naira¡¯s parents had crossed the Shallow River, he turned to painting and art, focusing his efforts there with wild abandon. But there had been no buyers or patrons for his decidedly average works, his skill unable to portray the images within his imagination. He tried music next, thinking that something resonated within his soul that he had simply had to share with the rest of the world. Unfortunately, the rest of the world did not agree. More often than not, the regulars of the inn avoided the establishment when he was performing. It was also around this time that her father had started drinking, ostensibly to take the nervous edge off his performances. His next line of attack was perhaps more logical. He tried to brute force his way through to fame and recognition. He tried his hand at local politics, trying to ingratiate himself with the people that mattered, plying them with gifts to garner their favor. He was able to make a few fair-weather friends and acquaintances, young sons of rich merchants who appreciated what he brought them. However, all this just served to strain the inn¡¯s struggling finances for no good results. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Throughout all of this, her mother had supported him. Believed in him. She loved him with the kind of love that could only be found in the most insipid of romance stories or love poems. They had grown up together, and he had been the only boy of her age who had been with her, who had seen past the stigma of her red eyes. He believed that beauty was a thing that should be protected and cherished, and she was the most beautiful thing of all. I had to force myself from rolling my eyes as that might have been construed as rude. In my world, her love would be seen as nothing more than enabling. The apple did not fall too far from the tree, and through the lens of her own mother¡¯s love, Zariyah, too, loved her father. Perhaps, joined in this way, the three of them could have continued to be a family. It was the friends that he made in the higher circles of Al-Lazarian society, rich sons of merchants that introduced him to the pleasures of the Dust. Like all of the common folk of the city, he had been warned of its dangerous allure, and until now he had neither the resources nor courage enough to partake of it. Just one fantasy-filled dream that was more real than the world he lived in was enough to set him down a new path. The next day, inspired, he painted new pictures, lifelike and exquisite in detail. He needed more of the stuff to let loose his burgeoning talents. Behind closed doors, her father grew into a monster when he was denied. He vented his frustration and cruelty upon her mother, the woman who had once been the love of his life. The sharp sting of his fists and the venomous words he spat were as regular as the rising sun. Her mother''s eyes, once bright with hope, were now dulled with empty and loveless marriage. As Zariyah grew, she found solace in the quiet outside the city. She found more comfort under the open endless skies than in the company of children her own age. The winds whispered secrets of resilience and survival, if only she would venture further out into the desolation. Among the shifting sands and endless horizons, she found escape, for a time, from her situation at home. But the darkness of her reality was inescapable. Her father''s debts mounted, and his desperation knew no bounds. He was willing to do anything to fuel his destructive craving for Dust. It was then that he made the ultimate betrayal, a heart-wrenching decision that would forever haunt Zariyah. One fateful night, in a haze of addiction-fueled madness, her father sold his only daughter to a contract broker. As a child, Zariyah had no choice but to obey him as he cruelly made her sign away the greater portion of her life. ¡°To save our livelihoods¡±, he told her, the lie as bitter now as it was then. She continued with the rest of her little tale, and I gradually grew bored. It was, for the most part, an account of places that I did not know, of names that had no meaning, and of a time before my coming to this world. Book 3: The Begonias Shade [Part 2] Just as my attention was truly starting to drift, refreshments were brought over by one of the inn¡¯s staff, small snacks of jellied fruit, nuts, and watered wine. It was a welcome relief, as I was struggling to keep my interest. Then Zariyah began to recount how she came to her powers. Finally, my ears perked up and I started to pay real attention. A storm had come while they were traveling in the western lands, a great squall that was relentless in its elemental rage. Winds with the strength of giants tore through the night. Storms like these in Aranthia were a thing of myth and legend, and it was most fortuitous that Gelgor¡¯s caravan had chosen to shelter within the walls of a city that night. Though Zariyah had no real memory of it, many of the Crows had seen her walk out, as if in a trance, out onto the cobbled streets and into the howling night. They screamed at her to come back, but their voices were lost to the wind as roof tiles were torn off buildings. Fearing the wrath of the unnatural storm, no one followed her out into the tempest. They found her the next day in a farmer¡¯s field outside the city walls, unharmed by the cutting winds, with not so much as a bruise upon her. It was only later, when she woke up on a soft feathered bed that she realized what the Wind had taken from her. Her voice. We all listened with rapt attention and without interruption. I always hungered for scraps of information involving magical power and its nature. If her account was true, then it was most likely that the tempest had gifted, or perhaps awakened, her powers. Had there been others like the young Zariyah who had ventured out into that storm-filled night and been gifted by the Wind? Could I do the same? It was a shame that the damn woman had been so light on the details of the how of it. Unfortunately, the rest of her tale devolved into a boring account of her life on the road with the caravan. Taking a sip of watered wine, my thoughts were instead turned inwards, to my own trials and tribulations that made Zariyah¡¯s account of her life until now sound like a pleasant holiday. Still, it reinforced my view that this world was cruel and unforgiving. Against all the odds, and in a world that seemed set against me, I had prevailed. At least, so far. Out of a population of billions I had been chosen, leading me to believe that I was truly special. Indeed, I had proven it, both to this world and more importantly to myself. I was more than the product of a ¡®soft¡¯ society that had created me. In me were reserves of will that I never knew I had. However, for all of this, my goals had always been just about short-term survival and running away. There simply had been no room for thinking about what I wanted from this world, and what I wanted to do and achieve for myself. All of my dreams and aspirations, trivial as they had been, had turned into so much ash from the moment I had arrived in Gesthe. What was there for me to do here? The conveniences of my old world, I somberly realized, were more than just mere conveniences, but intrinsic and essential parts of living. Without them, I felt lost and adrift. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. You can do anything you want, be anyone you want, a voice within stated simply. Not the voices, not this time, but a rare private thought that offered a grain of hope. Something to aspire to. I could be powerful here, quantifiably so, as I grew in levels, skills, and experience. But this pursuit of power, for its own sake, felt aimless and empty. However, objectively speaking, it was a road that promised more satisfaction at its destination than any of my railroaded life plans in my old world. That was the dreadful and barbaric frontier beauty of this place. However, there was a price for this power. Every step of the way, it seemed as though the gods of this world were intent on bending me to their will, singling me out to thwart my dreams and desires. But I was resolute in my refusal to yield to them. This was not a mere act of contrariness on my part, rather, I believed in the depths of my soul that acquiescing would mean trading away something essential. Ah, the damn gods. Avaria and Iasis, for all of their overwhelming power, felt human, felt flawed. They were on some level relatable, and therefore not beings that could be classified as gods. At least in the modern sense of the word. Of the three divine entities I had encountered, only one truly embodied the mantle and title of a ''god.'' Yet, even this dark and formidable power felt more like an elemental force, an inescapable truth of the universe rather than a god. The term god seemed too narrow to encompass such a terrible being. Even now, the faint echoes of my encounter with Entropy, filled me with existential dread, but also an odd sense of acceptance. I had, in a very limited way, become a part of the alpha and omega of the universe itself. Yet, against all evidence to the contrary, a belief that I stubbornly held onto was that gods did not exist. Could not exist. Even if they did, they should be beings so far apart from us that they should be incomprehensible. After all, the true gods who were worthy of our worship were those who did not need our reverence in the first place. For what use did a god have of the regard of a mortal? What use do we have for the ants that we crush beneath our feet? Suddenly my name was mentioned and I stopped with my internal musings. Zariyah had finally come to the part when Gelgor had gifted her to me, trading her away like so much livestock. With a fixed smile on my face, I listened in, stopping only to clarify a few small points. A part of me felt grateful that Zariyah saved me the effort of having to explain why she joined me to the rest of my companions. But, Larynda''s face grew uncharacteristically hard towards the last part. The part where Zariyah¡¯s ownership was passed over to me. Silly child, could she not see that this thing was not my fault at all? She had been foisted upon me and I had no choice but to accept her. I had no intent on keeping a slave, for that was what she was in all but name, as I thought the whole institution morally repugnant. At least until I felt familiar enough with the city. Kidu and Elwin, companions of my long and weary road, harbored a peculiar dichotomy in their view of slavery. To them, it was a detestable affliction when it clasped about their own necks, yet they held no hate or aversion to the idea itself. The towering Kidu spoke with a disquieting calm of ''bondsmen'', prisoners from vanquished tribes who were forced to work for their conquerors for a year and a day, another barbaric custom of his primitive people. For Elwin, it had been a fate much preferable to the hangman¡¯s noose. As for Cordelia, afraid of her answer, I had never cared to find out her views on the matter. The woman, on a strange level, truly unnerved me. I had never been good around believers, true believers. Book 3: The Begonias Shade [Part 3] It was in Larynda, in her youthful guilelessness and childish innocence, who was only lightly touched by the calloused hands of the world, that I had found a kindred soul regarding the matter of slavery. Over modest repast, she had blurted out that all people should be free, and that no one had the right to enslave another. I counseled her gently, warning that such noble ideals demanded strength as their shield, lest they be trampled under the boots of harsher truths. It was with no small amount of satisfaction that I saw her train harder the next day with Kidu. ¡°And that is your daughter¡¯s tale,¡± I finished for Zariyah, fighting an urge to stretch. She had gone on for long enough, I felt. ¡°...I never knew, all these years, my darling girl¡­¡± Zariyah¡¯s mother whispered in a hollow voice. ¡°Yes, as you can see, serendipity has a strange way of working her will. However, my companions and I are looking for lodging and this place came highly recommended,¡± I said with a small smile, trying to keep things pleasant and light. ¡°Of course,¡± she croaked automatically in response before she gathered herself. ¡°Two rooms would be a silver a night, but for bringing my daughter back to me you can stay here as long as you¡­¡± Of course, I intended to free Zariyah at some point, but I found it awfully rude for the woman to presume something of me. Or was it her womanly way of manipulating me? I cut her off. ¡°Three rooms, and I will of course pay for our lodgings. This should be good for a while,¡± I stated, trying to maintain the smile upon my face. I placed a gold coin on the table, resisting the urge to wince. A gold coin, was after all, a gold coin and a considerable amount of money. I was almost tempted to swallow my pride and take her up on her earlier offer. City life was expensive, and a caravan guard, it seemed, was paid next to nothing. Damn that Laes. The woman looked at the coins oddly for a moment. ¡°Is something the matter?¡± ¡°No, not at all, it has been a while since I received a coin like that,¡± she answered, shaking her head and scooping up the coins. What could she mean by that? The inn looked prosperous enough. Or was it perhaps because they used paper money in Al-Lazar? If so, I would have to remember to change some of my notes into smaller denominations. ¡°I will have the girl Ninurta show you to your rooms, but if it does not displease Master Gilgamesh, I would like a little more time with my daughter,¡± she said formally, almost with an air of frigid ceremony. ¡°But of course, Mistress Naira,¡± I acquiesced smoothly. ***** Ninurta, a slip of a girl in her early teens, possessed olive skin, brown eyes, and a rebellious cascade of curly dark hair. Thin and bony for her age, she was a bundle of unbridled excitement, practically bouncing off the walls with her childlike enthusiasm as she ushered us to our rooms giving us a set of bronze keys. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The rooms themselves were small, but clean, and the walls were washed with a coat of white paint, lending an airy feel to the room. Using glass for the windows was a small testament to the prosperity of the place, as the manufacture of it was an expensive process for low-technology cultures. My room was a corner room and the furthest from the stairs. A large bed dominated the center, big enough for three or four people to share, the sight of which brought a brief smile to my face. It was a reminder of something that my world had lost with its steady advancements. Animals slept together for comfort and safety, and humans were no different to them on the most basic level. But as we, as a society, became more prosperous, we began seeking to build barriers to keep away our fellow man, becoming lonelier in the process. The truly rich of my old world hoarded their privacy like a dragon¡¯s gold, but their souls were the poorer for it. I was, however, a product of that world and welcomed the privacy after having shared cramped quarters with Kidu and Elwin. Finally, I would have some time to myself. Interrupting Ninurta¡¯s ramblings with Larynda, I inquired after Patches and the Ninurta assured us that our donkey would be well taken care of. According to the little bundle of enthusiasm, the inn had a small stable around the back, and the girl exclaimed that she positively loved animals and would see to her personally. We began to settle in, and the porters of the Begonia¡¯s Shade helped us bring some of our things up the stairs. Finally alone for a moment, I began to shuck myself out of my armor. Just as I was removing my left pauldron, having difficulty with a rather rebellious strap, there was an energetic knock on the door to my room. ¡°It¡¯s Ninurta, sir,¡± piped a voice from the other side of the heavy door, ¡°I¡¯ve come to show you the way to the baths if you like¡­ I brought you robes, a towel, and stuff!¡± Annoyed, I got up and opened the door, letting the bouncing girl in. ¡°Leave it there, please. I will be done in a few moments,¡± I stated curtly, my sanctum already invaded. I sat down and worked my way to loosen the stubborn strap. ¡°Do you need any help, sir?¡± Ninurta squeaked eagerly. ¡°No, I will be¡­ actually yes, if you could help me here,¡± I answered, gesturing to the annoying strap. With the brightest of smiles, the girl helped me out of my steel shell. The dents and wear in my gear were a sad and obvious reminder of my latest adventurers. I would have to see to their proper maintenance later. There was no end to the chores. Down now to my gambeson, I asked her to wait outside the room so that I could change into the robes she had provided. The girl looked at me oddly for a moment, almost frustrated, as if leaving the job half-done. Even so, she left me alone, but not before shooting a look toward me before closing the door behind her. I quickly got changed, dumping the gambeson, along with my underclothes, into a laundry basket in the corner. Opening the door, I found Ninurta singing a cheerful song as she waited for me. ¡°Please, this way!¡± she enthused, leading me down to another room on the ground floor. The room was tiled in blue, with a pool at its center. Water flowed from a copper pipe, gurgling like a fountain. Naira had quite obviously done rather well for herself to be able to afford facilities like these for her guests. ¡°Do you need help with¡­ err washing your back? I can help with other stuff too¡­¡± she asked timidly. Caught off guard, I looked at her dumbfounded. It took me a while before I was finally able to register her intent. ¡°No, that will not be necessary,¡± I said quite firmly, ¡°Please, leave us.¡± The ''royal plural¡¯. Was I going funny in the head? The girl gave me a bright smile, looking genuinely happy at my refusal. She was singing, her voice echoing off of the bath walls, as she left the baths with a skip in her step. Finally, I felt relieved that I had avoided a potentially awkward situation and that she was out of my hair. For all of its veneer of luxury, it seemed that this place was just as barbaric, twisted, and morally bankrupt as Ansan. Truly, what was going on in this place? Book 3: No Harm, No Foul [Part 1] The greatest of rivers is formed from the smallest of streams. - A Quassian aphorism. After washing off what felt like months of dirt and grime, I was finally able to enjoy simply soaking in the cool water of the bath. The water enveloped me, a balm for my weary soul, as I surrendered to the simple pleasure of idleness. It almost felt like I had achieved a zen-like state of emptiness. But there was still light left in the day and time was, after all, money. The gold coin I had given Naira would only pay for less than a week. Perhaps I should have been less chivalrous? Dragging myself out of the bath, I dried myself with a towel and made my way back to my room. God in heaven, it felt good to be clean again. The fairy tales never spoke of the hero¡¯s fight to maintain a certain standard of basic hygiene. I slipped into the loose, flowing garments favored by the locals in this sweltering climate and attached my sword to my waist. Yet, the sword felt awkward and unbalanced without my armor, leading me to opt for a more manageable knife instead. Now, fully prepared and significantly fresher than a few hours earlier, I set out to see what the rest of my entourage was up to. ¡°Elwin, Kidu, you alright in there?¡± I inquired, knocking twice on the heavy wooden door. ¡°Come in, Gil,¡± Elwin¡¯s voice responded from within. The pair had yet to change and bathe, and my nose was made immediately and painfully aware of it. I could not hold it against them, as I, no doubt, was in a similar condition only a while ago. ¡°You look better. It is good that we have reached our destination. But what is that we must do now?¡± rumbled Kidu, his giant frame making the small stool that he sat on look almost comedic. Not that anyone would dare laugh at him, of course. The man had stolen what I was about to say right out of my mouth. ¡°Indeed, we should try to get a lay of the land?¡± I suggested. ¡°Just what I was thinking, Gil, there mate,¡± added Elwin to the mix as he adjusted a buckle at his waist. ¡°Well, then, let us see what we can see.¡± ¡°Beg, your pardon, but the kind of scouting I was thinking of doing is the type that you ain¡¯t best equipped to do. I best do this part by myself, if you don¡¯t mind me saying. Maybe find some people who know some people who know some people. Also, been cooped up with you lunks for months, and a man needs some time for himself, if you be catching my meaning. Big guy, why don¡¯t you go with Gil here, get a little taste of the city life?¡± ¡°Later. I must see to the little one,¡± he rumbled in his gravelly voice. ¡°Can¡¯t we just take her with us?¡± I suggested. ¡°She has grown, how do you warm land people say it, become the slack? She is distracted¡­ she needs focus. She must train. I will see to it,¡± he responded simply, rolling his shoulders. ¡°Well, there¡¯s your answer then. Why don¡¯t you ask the redhead?¡± the Rogue put forth with a wink. ¡°Yes, there is that. I suppose I will do just that,¡± I accepted, a little annoyed at being rebuffed. I left the pair, taking Elwin''s suggestion to heart. After all, there were arguably worse ways to spend a late afternoon than with a beautiful woman. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Nearing her door, which was left slightly open due to the finicky latches typical of this place, I could hear the monotonous hum of prayers. Phrases imploring the Goddess for mercy and salvation were being repeated, first by Cordelia¡¯s fervent voice and then echoed by Larynda¡¯s reluctant tone. I wondered if the half-elven child, still so young, should be so exposed to religion. There was a part of me that felt a twinge of sympathy for her. Deciding it best not to intrude, I left the women to their prayers. Having second thoughts about inviting Cordelia, as having a religious zealous goddess-botherer accompany me about the town might not be the wisest choice, I opted to leave well enough alone. So, it seemed I was to be on my own for the afternoon. Realizing I had forgotten my bag, I returned to my room to fetch it, taking care to include my Health and Mana potions. Anticipating frequent use of the spell Identify in this unfamiliar city, and possibly danger, I wanted to be thoroughly prepared. This train of thought unexpectedly brought Zariyah to mind. Perhaps it was time for her to fulfill her role and show me around. Surely, she must have finished catching up with her mother by now? But then again, women did have a habit of going on when left to their own devices. Making my way back to the ground floor, I noticed that Begonia¡¯s Shade was gradually filling up. Observing the diverse attire of the patrons, I could discern that the clientele of the inn came from a wide range of professions and social standings. There were what looked like working-class field hands, likely wasting away their modest earnings, minor merchants draped in luxurious silks, and a group of stern-looking men in serious-looking arms and armor. The presence of these armed men made me feel particularly vulnerable without my harness. Naked almost. I found myself at the bar and took a seat. I asked the bartender where the mother-daughter pair were. "The mistress and Zari still be in the back room. They''re likely to need more time together," he explained. "I''ve been instructed to offer you anything you''d like. So, what can I get for you, samasa?" he asked, leaning across the bar with his hands spread. Up close, his distinct features and scars were even more apparent. The pronounced brow ridge gave him an almost ogre-like appearance, and his wide nose, evidently broken multiple times, contributed to his somewhat intimidating demeanor. Driven by curiosity, I decided to cast an Identify spell on the man.
Laman Al-Qurashi - Soldier (Human lvl.11)
Health: 203/203 Stamina: 38/43 Mana: 7/7
Despite his formidable appearance, I was surprised to find that the bartender was of a relatively low level. He posed no real threat, and I felt almost foolish for my initial apprehension. In gaming terms, he would be the equivalent of a trash mob and easily handled even without my magic. ¡°I¡¯ll have juice please, something sweet, or wine, twice watered, if you don¡¯t have any juice.¡± I answered, feeling more confident. ¡°Sure you don¡¯t want anything stronger? The mistress said to open up the good stuff if you¡­¡± he gave me a conspiratorial wink, ¡°I mean the really good stuff. Better than even the stuff we give to some of the hoity-toity types we get every now and again. Got us some Aranthian spirits. If there has ever been a time to open it, can¡¯t think of a better time than now,¡± he explained with a shrug of his shoulders. ¡°Laman Al-Qurashi, right?¡± I replied, enjoying the puzzled look that crossed the battle map of scars that served as his face. ¡°It is still a bit early in the day for me to drink, but please pour yourself something nice,¡± I offered diplomatically. ¡°You have a look about you, a military man I take it?¡± His face broke into a wide smile as he guffawed, "Well, I don''t mind if I do." He turned and reached for a dark bottle on a shelf behind him. "It''s almost a sin to just leave this beauty sitting up there," he commented. Then, as he poured the drink, he began to share his story. "And yes, I''ve served before. Got drafted into the levies, and ended up staying longer than I''d planned. Eventually, I realized that risking my life for the glory of the Empire wasn''t for me. So, I joined the Mercenary¡¯s Guild, rose to the rank of Claw Leader. The stories I could tell you! Some of my old mates drop by every now and then, and we exchange stories from the old days¡­" Book 3: No Harm, No Foul [Part 2] A new, cultured voice interrupted our conversation.¡°I heard that someone is offering free drinks, Aranthian spirits no less. It would be wonderful to have a taste of home,¡± said the alluring feminine voice to my right. ¡°Oh, what do we have here? I can usually tell where someone is from, but you are a mystery¡­¡± Curiously, I turned my head to see who had joined us. I It was a woman, dressed in a style that was clearly not local. She wore black knee-high leather boots and off-white trousers, paired with a fluffy, frilled short-sleeve blouse that revealed her sun-kissed, tanned skin. Her hair, a fashionable medium length and dark oaken brown, framed her face perfectly. A silver circlet with a green gem at its center adorned her brow, giving her a regal air that contrasted with her bright, sunny smile. My gaze involuntarily drifted down to the silver badge hanging from a copper chain around her neck ¨C an Adventurer¡¯s badge. ¡°Kaila,¡± muttered Laman under his breath in an almost exasperated warning. ¡°Why thank you, Laman, for introducing me,¡± she drawled, her voice a spun melody, offering me a little wave as she pulled out a stool and sat down one space away from me. The troubled barkeep shot me a questioning look as if seeking permission. I simply shrugged my shoulders before answering his silent inquiry, ¡°Why not? Pour her a glass. Today is cause for celebration, right?¡± I noticed a leather belt cinched at her waist, and hanging from it was what appeared to be a simple wand or scepter, adorned with yet another green gem at its tip. This gem provided me with some hints about her chosen profession. Intrigued by the slightly aggressive and imperious demeanor of the woman, I decided to cast another Identify spell.
Kaila de Arancrai - Enchantress (Human lvl.19)
Health: 175/175 Stamina: 25/26 Mana: 14/16
The woman had a few levels on me, but her attributes were sorely lacking. Unless she had some formidable spells in her arsenal that were of the dangerous sort, I could probably snap her delicate neck like a twig. With a class labeled ¡®Enchantress¡¯, I doubted that would be likely. "Miss Arancrai, I presume?" I offered casually, only to be met with a dainty snort of amusement. Unlike Laman, she seemed hardly surprised by my little trick. She played with a strand of her hair, not meeting my gaze. "It seems my reputation has finally caught up with me, which is only fair considering the effort I''ve put in," she said with a hint of pride. Drawing a small breath, she continued, "Yes, I am Arancrai. Kaila Arancrai... And you are, of course...?" Her question hung in the air, a mix of curiosity and challenge. With practiced finesse, Laman poured the fragrant spirit into three small cups, earning a nod of appreciation from Kaila. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. "I am Gilgamesh of Uruk," I replied, a touch flatly, still uncertain about how to deal with this intriguing woman. "I can''t say I''ve heard of it. Sounds a bit rustic," she responded, raising an eyebrow. "But let''s not waste time on formalities. Cheers!" She took a small sip. ¡°Cheers!¡± echoed Laman, following suit, and I could only join him. I felt that it would be rude to point out that this was not exactly what I had ordered. The drink went down, relatively smoothly but still had quite a kick to it. Fruity notes emerged as I savored a second sip. Though I was far from a connoisseur of spirits, the quality was unmistakable, even to my untrained palette. After months of occasionally resorting to swigs of arag, this was a positively delightful change. Still, I couldn''t help but wish for some simple juice. Reminding myself to live more in the moment, I decided against being one of those who whine about every little thing. As I swirled the dark liquid in my cup, preparing to finish it off, I suddenly felt a hand grasp my shoulder. "Whatcha doing talking to my woman, like, like that? Making eyes at her," an irate, slurred voice cut through the air. "Sevas..." Kaila and Laman spoke simultaneously, a mix of recognition and apprehension in their tones. "It''s Sir Sevas... I was knighted by the King himself, remember that. I''ve fought in the Pale Wars. I am a knight," he declared, his words interspersed with sporadic belches. Sevas, despite his inebriated state, commanded attention. His snow-white hair crowned a ruggedly handsome face, the kind belonging to a man in his youth, barely out of his early twenties. His gray eyes were the color of a misty morning, though dimmed by the excess of drink, burned with the restless energy of boyish indignation. A solitary scar that sliced diagonally across his face, marred, yet at the same time somehow enhanced his appearance, lending him a fierce aspect. I disliked him from the first, on an almost primal level. His attire, though stained at the front, was of fine craftsmanship. Like Kaila, he bore a silver badge, not on a chain as hers was, but fastened to the baldric that supported a long, thin sword. A sword that made me acutely aware of my own vulnerability, armed only as I was with just a mere knife. ¡°That would have made you about ten at the time if you had fought in the wars, boy. We¡¯ve all heard it before,¡± commented Laman with a huff, rolling his eyes. ¡°An¡¯ I fought, I tell you. Waz jus¡¯ a boy in the train¡­ I was there when they came. Took up a weapon and fought ¡®em back with the men of the line. You don¡¯t be trying to distract me now so you can go back to¡­ I said look at me damn you!¡± he cried in my general direction, his gaze unfocused as he staggered about, spilling his cup and its contents onto the floor. Sevas was a perfect example of why I was averse to strong drink, really anything, that robbed you of good sense. If this was the quality of silver-ranked adventurers then it looked like it would be easy for me to get a few promotions under my belt. ¡°And for the last time, Sevas, I am not your woman,¡± hissed Kaila, standing up from her stool and sounding like an exasperated teacher. ¡°Gil, from wherever you are, I am so sorry about this. He¡¯s in our party and is always like this when he gets a little deep in his cups,¡± she apologized backhandedly, looking more flustered and embarrassed than actually apologetic. Some of the clientele of the establishment had stopped in their conversation and started to look in our direction. Barely settled into my new accommodation and trouble was already finding me. ¡°...But I left my home and family¡­ for you. ¡®Gether we would go onna life of excitement and adventure, new lands, and new sights, or thaz what you said¡± he whined like a beaten dog, his body starting to tremble with repressed emotion. Already my hackles had begun to rise as I prepared for a possible fight. Unfortunately, I had gone so native that a barbaric part of me actually welcomed the prospect. I am not a man for starting fights, but I intended to finish this one. Permanently, if need be. The man was basically offering himself to help me reach the next level and it would be rude of me to deny him. Smiling to myself, I realized I was equipped with more than just a knife, I had my magic and a good excuse for casual murder. Book 3: No Harm, No Foul [Part 3] ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough,¡± said a new man in an exasperated tone long worn with repetition, standing up from his table. He was wearing civilian clothes, dull and drab, and unlike Sevas, was unarmed. He was decidedly average-looking and nondescript, both in appearance and stature. The sort that one¡¯s eyes would overlook on any given day. However, he had a way about him that spoke that he was not a stranger to violence. A fencer¡¯s grace if I was to put a word to it. Outnumbered, I began to have second thoughts about resorting to violence to resolve this situation. ¡°Sorry, Laman, for the trouble, we¡¯ll take him out of here now, see that he gets back to his room¡­¡± the man apologized, giving us an embarrassed smile as he tried to drag Sevas away. ¡°But¡­ you! You just had to ruin it! You had to ruin everything!¡± complained Sevas as he struggled against them. Kaila took one last pull of her drink, draining what was left in her cup before she told the man with a sigh, ¡°Basilio, see to him. ¡±Sorry about Sevas, he is usually a reliable sort. A good boy and his heart is in the right place,¡± she offered contritely to me. ¡°Not a boy!¡± screamed the young man childishly as he burst free from Basilio, drawing the fine blade at his hip with surprising swiftness. As the blade descended with the swiftness of a lightning bolt cleaving the sky, time itself appeared to slow. Instinctively, my shield arm rose of its own accord, interposing itself between me and the sharpened steel. I braced for the blade''s bite, anticipating a grievous cut, deep to the bone. Yet, to my surprise, his sword clanged off, as if it had encountered something other than just flesh. Was this the work of my Mimic? Convenient, to say the least. Unbalanced by the sudden movement, I fell off my stool with an unmanly squawk of surprise, hitting my head against the floor. Humiliated, I reached for the knife at my waist as I struggled to get up. Hot anger fuelled by a sudden burst of adrenaline. The bastard had struck at me, and I would have satisfaction. As I began to rise, still disoriented, I looked for Sevas, but felt a sharp pressure at my throat. It was the same blade that had struck me, but now wielded by Kailas¡¯ crony, Basilio. I felt trepidation and fear sink their claws into me as I eyed the blade and stilled. His sword was steady, as were his eyes, which were a harder gray than even the steel of the blade he held, and set with professional calm that promised an ending for me. ¡°Sorry about our friend, but I don¡¯t think you will be drawing your steel,¡± he stated matter-of-factly, in a calm, superior voice that only caused me to seethe on the inside. You did not apologize with a threat. Laman''s growl cut through the tense atmosphere from behind the bar. "Basilio, there''s no need to be brandishing a blade at our guests. You know the rules." The common room plunged into an unsettling silence, broken only by the sound of a few patrons who, sensing the brewing storm, quickly left their payments on the tables and hurriedly made their exits. Having found myself in similar, if not deadlier, predicaments before, I chose to set aside my concerns. Fear had not yet left me, but it was not the sort that renders one into a state of nonaction, but rather the type that sharpens the mind and grants a desperate yet clear focus. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. I cast an Identify on Basilio even as I planned my next move.
Basilio Sanseverino - Warrior (Human lvl.17)
Health: 259/259 Stamina: 34/39 Mana: 9/9
He had a common as muck, basic class. I would have laughed at the raw impertinence of his threat if there wasn¡¯t a sharp blade at my throat. But such was life. Slowly, I got to my feet, reluctantly moving my hand from the dagger at my waist. Basilio totally ignored Laman, and the thin blade followed my rise as I stood up. The group of adventurers had begun to make their exit, with Kaila shooting me a wry grin and a quick wave before she left. She was helped by a new companion, a portly man of middling height, to keep a struggling childish Sevas in tow. I remained perfectly still, counting the moments as Basilio backed away with a slow and confident stride, the tip of his sword still pointed at me. In the halls of my mind, I prepared myself, opening up to the sibilant voices that hungered, the voices that fed, and the power they represented. His eyes remained fixed on me as he crossed the threshold of the inn and stepped outside onto the street. It was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment when he was no longer protected by the guest right of this society''s culture. They had not left gifts as they should for their host as amends for breaking the peace of their roof. Thus, they had forfeited their protection, and Naira¡¯s responsibility for them. The moment they left the establishment, doubly so. I had them by the very crude laws that bound them. Not to mention they had been rude. Very rude, the lot of them. Not wanting to cause trouble for Laman or the inn''s mistress, Naira, I had decided to rein in my more violent urges until this moment to adopt the local cultural norms. Realizing that I had grown as a person, I gave myself a pat on the back. The moment was upon me, and so, with savage glee, I unleashed Rust. My will sped the spell along as I directed the voracious energies at the detestable blade. From the outside came a surprised shout of pain that turned into an agonized shriek. Returning my stool to its upright position, I sat down again and took another sip of my drink. I savored the moment as yet another scream rang out from outside, adding depth to the taste of the beverage. It was followed up by the shout of ¡°Basilio¡± and I imagined the sudden heat released, fusing flesh to metal, as iron was superheated to an incandescent level. Life was sweet, and I could feel the silent gaze of the remaining guests upon me. Inside, I was grinning, but I made sure not to let that sweet feeling show on my face. Some things are best savored in secret. Sweet justice had been served, and I found it much to my taste.
You have gained 1 Charisma.
The added point to one of my more stubborn attributes only added to my smug satisfaction of a deed well done. ¡°Laman, pour us another,¡± I asked cooly, noticing his quizzical expression. He poured me another glass, his silence an unspoken question that I had no intention of answering. Book 3: Illusions [Part 1] Be as water in nature, benefiting all things without taking or competing with them. - A Quassian aphorism. At times, people can be sources of immense annoyance. I was relishing my drink, almost as much as the delicious moment of spite, when Sevas burst back into the inn. Kaila followed in moments later, her face a mix of exasperation and anger. Was there no respite in this world for me? A wild-eyed Sevas fixed his gaze on me. ¡°You will pay for harming my man Basilio! I demand satisfaction!¡± clamored the young man in a clear voice, drawing a knife from his waist and waving it at me. Round two it was, then. Laman grumbled from behind the bar, "If you lot continue this way, I''ll have to call the Guard." He appeared on the verge of spitting on the floor but, recalling his surroundings, halted midway, swallowed, and adjusted the front of his clothing instead. I took a moment to evaluate Sevas, weighing my options. There was a new violent fire in his eyes, and his voice was now devoid of its slurred dance. His face held a sneer, the kind belonging to someone who had found a lesser to unleash their frustrations upon. This air of superiority, however, was slightly marred as he daintily swiped at a faint green smear at the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. Remarkably, the man appeared to have shaken off the influence of his early drinking. Even as my eyes took him in, my magic gave me a clearer gauge of the threat before me. Identify, as always, was a wonderful utility spell.
Sevas Soranzo - Spellsword (Human lvl.16)
Health: 223/232 Stamina: 27/42 Mana: 8/9
Sevas, for the most part, had comparable parameters to Basilio. However, it was his class, or calling, as this world called it, that set him slightly apart from the rest. It almost brought a smile to my face with its novelty. I looked around the room, as the guests who had yet to make their escape made themselves smaller, hunching in on themselves, assiduously looking away from me. There would be no help from that quarter, not that I had been expecting any. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°What is going on here, Laman? I pay you and your guild a small fortune to keep the peace¡­¡± came the voice of the owner of the inn. ¡°Aye, mistress Naira, but these lot be with the Adventurer¡¯s. Silver ranked too, an¡¯ the Mirage of the Sand¡¯s party no less. They looked to me like they were set on leaving all peaceful like, too,¡± explained the veteran and former soldier. He sounded to me like a schoolchild caught doing something bad. With a resigned air, he drew the mean mace at his waist, more for show than anything else. Naira, it seemed, had very good reason to be annoyed. ¡°Apologies, but Sevas here was a bit drunk and started something with one of your guests, Gilmamess here,¡± offered Kaila with a thin-lipped smile, pointing at Sevas in explanation. Then suddenly, Sevas began waving his knife about as he launched a series of sudden stabs at the¡­ air. It was most odd. His face was a mask of bleak concentration as he fought invisible opponents, ducking and weaving through non-existent blows with a dancer¡¯s grace. Suddenly a look of feral delight overcame him and actinic energies started to run across the blade of his weapon. With a bright grin, he impressively swung ineffectually at nothing, leaving the air tinged with the smell of ozone. ¡°Just letting Sev blow off some steam, saves him from bearing a grudge. I tell you, he does not enjoy losing one whit. It has been a problem in the past, but I guess that is just a part of him. Right now, Sev here is having an epic struggle with you, one in which he will eventually win,¡± explained Kaila in a long-suffering voice as she gave me a tight smile. I felt as if someone had thrown a gauze on my perception and my eyes drifted away from her to focus instead on Sevas. The Spellsword''s martial demonstration, though somewhat comical, served as a stark reminder of the threat he posed. I had to stop from getting ahead of myself. His energy-infused strike had been of particular note. The energies unleashed had certainly looked dangerous and destructive. Yet, even more insidious was the Enchantress'' subtle display of power. From both her words and class, I imagined that she was somehow manipulating the Spellsword. It was undeniably impressive, if not downright horrifying and evil. ¡°I would appreciate it if you would do your witchery outside, it is disturbing our guests,¡± the proprietress interjected archly. ¡°You need¡¯nt worry about a thing, I placed a Sleep spell on him too,¡± she continued, in a tired voice that came from explaining the same fact for the umpteenth time, ¡°It should take effect once he has worn himself out a just a bit more.¡± Kaila seemed to be in front of me, yet for some reason, the display of her Status was floating a half-step to my right. Another note of worry that for the moment I did not fully understand. ¡°Now, I¡¯ll be taking these if you don¡¯t mind. Your treatment of Basilio, though not entirely unwarranted, was well a bit much,¡± she declared saucily, waving¡­ my potions in front of me! Damn the pilfering wench! Possessed by anger, I instinctively moved forward but halted mid-step. Something in my subconscious, an instinct or some sort of mystical sense, warned me of the folly of this simple action. Heeding this subtle warning, I instead snapped out my arm towards where I sensed the Enchantress'' presence. My hand grasped at what my eyes told me was only air, yet the soft yielding warmth that my hand felt told me that this was a lie. I started to squeeze with feral delight, my fingers sinking deeper into pliant flesh. Suddenly, as if a veil had been lifted, the illusion shattered and my eyes saw Kaila where she truly was, choking as my hand squeezed about her neck. Book 3: Illusions [Part 2] ¡°Your little spells will not work on me,¡± I announced with grim satisfaction. ¡°Now give me back what is mine,¡± I demanded, lifting her up from off the floor as I continued to choke the life out of her. The heat had left me, instead I felt powerful and liberated. Feebly she reached out, offering me back the two vials that she had stolen from me. With my free hand, I placed them back into my bag and was about to let the woman go when I felt the unmistakable pressure of yet another blade at my throat. ¡°Now, you got your little potions back. Now, let Kaila go,¡± rasped a voice from behind me. ¡°Will you all please, stop this nonsense!¡± shouted Naira, her command doing nothing but adding to the confusion of an already very messy situation. In the media of my old world, the act of choking a life out was often portrayed as a swift, almost effortless deed. The reality was far more brutal. Kaila features were a twisted tapestry of pathetic struggle as she fought back with everything she had, ineffectually kicking at me and clawing at the hand that gripped her throat. She really should have put a few more points into Strength. I did not release Kaila, and in response the blade dug against my skin, meeting subtle resistance until I could finally feel it drawing blood. Then, I felt it. An almost too subtle displacement of air. Kaila¡¯s eyes widened further, almost like teacups, as I felt the kiss of the blade leave, and heard the knife clanging to the floor. ¡°Can¡¯t leave you for a moment, can I? This how you deal with all of your disagreements?¡± came a familiar voice from behind. I chuckled for a moment at the absurdity of the situation. The tables had indeed been turned. The body of my latest assailant lay on the ground behind me. ¡°My thanks Elwin, good to know that you are at my back, as always. I can, however, assure you that I am very much the aggrieved party here,¡± I replied with a little mirth, a small grin stealing its way across my face. The man who had taken me unaware had been sneaky, but the Rogue had been sneakier still. ¡°Ah, of course. Only that in my experience it¡¯s usually about two men fighting over a woman when they have been drinking a bit too much. First time I seen it where one of the men ended up choking out the girl. This how you impress the girls from wherever it is you are from? A courting ritual? Nothing to get the old juices going like a quick bit of strangulation?¡± he commented sarcastically, kicking at what I presumed to be the unconscious form of the man who had had a knife to my throat. I glanced from the still struggling woman in my grip, to Sevas, the remaining threat. The Spellsword seemed to be tiring, his movements growing slower as he wound down, his exertions taking their toll. Almost a mirror to Kaila¡¯s own struggles. ¡°I am thinking about a more permanent solution for this lot,¡± I put forth bluntly. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°I would rather you did not, samasa,¡± stated Naira politely, if not a little too sharply. ¡°Having deaths under one¡¯s roof can be bad for my reputation and business. We have quite a few from the Adventurer¡¯s Guild that come here, and I would look at it as a personal favor to me if you would show mercy,¡± she requested, bowing formally at the hip, her palms pressed to the back of her head. ¡°Yeah, killing women. It leaves a bad taste in the mouth,¡± advised Elwin, muttering something else as he stood next to Kaila. ¡°Would be a waste¡­¡± ¡°Please Master Gilgamesh,¡± pleaded Naira again. Almost as if in response to this, Laman sidled up from behind the bar to stand with his employer. Or rather, stood behind. A coward through and through, I thought to myself. For all that she had done, I did not feel like killing Kaila. It didn¡¯t feel right. So just like that, I relaxed my grip and let her go. She fell unceremoniously to the floor, gasping for air with the desperation of a fish out of water. It was a pitiful sight. ¡°But is it not written in the surahs? There can be no mercy without justice,¡± came Cordelia¡¯s lilting voice, cold as the first winds of winter. Great, I thought to myself, another complication. People with their damn timing, I needed her a few minutes ago, not now adding her own little piece. Cordelia had Larynda in tow, both of them wearing local ¡®civilian¡¯ clothing. Yet, despite this, the warrior woman seemed to exude a sense of danger, her words and manner strengthened by the power of her faith. Larynda, on the other hand, seemed to draw into herself, looking furtive and small. ¡°I believe compensation is due, as is custom in this city, to the aggrieved. Without which we would be forced to take this matter to the courts. Brazen theft, in broad daylight no less, with a whole inn full of witnesses. I believe the ultimate price, should we take these to the courts, would be a hand¡­ and as a servant of the Goddess herself, my testimony would be given great weight,¡± the red-haired woman stated matter-of-factly, her posture ramrod straight and unyielding. ¡°And assault and attempted murder,¡± I added coldly in a flat voice. ¡°Fine¡­ fine¡­ just leave us alone,¡± whined the woman on the floor between breaths. It wasn¡¯t quite the voice of someone who had completely lost. I noticed that the screams from outside had subsided, instead turning into pathetic sobs. As if these were the sounds that heralded the final stages of total surrender, Kaila dejectedly reached for her waist, and threw a jangling coin purse at Naira¡¯s feet. ¡°For your troubles¡­ Mistress¡­ Naira¡­ the take from our last job. Aranthian coin, gold, and not your worthless paper money¡­¡± wheezed Kaila, still not fully recovered. ¡°The mark of Al-Lazar, in certain places, is trusted more than gold, foreigner. And I care not for the money. Just get out of my inn, now! And rest assured I will be making a formal complaint to the Guild.¡± With Elwin giving it a few encouraging kicks, the body at my feet began to stir. Kaila half-crawled to him, bringing a vial to his lips. After a minute he got to his feet, a little wide-eyed, but nonetheless mobile. A quick look around confirmed for him how the encounter had gone. Kaila gently whispered a few words in Sevas¡¯ ear, stilling his flailing motions. She shot me a look, a glance, that was surprisingly without venom or hurt. In silence, Kaila and her unnamed companion dragged a now unresisting Sevas from the inn. ¡°Free drinks for everyone!¡± shouted Naira to the silent crowd, a weak whoop of joy following the declaration, only to be swallowed by the silence. Now there was the matter of my compensation. Surely, I was due something for my troubles? Book 3: Liberation [Part 1] Like the regular armies of the land, there are ranks within the Mercenary¡¯s Guild. Unlike the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, which bases its ranks on metals, the Mercenary¡¯s Guild adopts a more novel approach. The guild is organized into so-called great companies, each a formidable force split into two Wings, each Wing comprising of five hundred warriors. These Wings are further divided into Claws, with each Claw numbering a hundred souls, and these, in turn, are divided into Scales, the smallest unit, consisting of ten fighters. Wing Leaders, Claw Leaders, and Scale Leaders serve as commissioned officers, and their ranks are reflected in the authority and respect they command within the guild outside of a campaign. The nomenclature chosen by the guild is steeped in ancient legend and warrior mystique. A full assembly of a great company is also known as a ''Dragon''. It is said that in the ages before the Cataclysm, it took a full thousand men to slay one of the dreaded tyrants of the sky. - In Search of the Dragons, by Captain Fiorella Haldane. Checking my belongings, I made sure that nothing else had been taken from me by the poor excuses for ¡®adventurers.¡¯ I needed to get out of the inn for a while, sooner rather than later if at all possible. There were a few chores on my list that needed doing and it would be good to explore the city. I ordered some juice and left the last dregs of my drink at the bar. Sitting at a table in the corner, I idly waited for half a turn of the clock. Zariyah¡¯s mother, after settling a few ruffled feathers of her clients, joined me. I then spent a few minutes of my life explaining, in almost excruciating detail, what had just happened in her establishment. Elwin decided to join us, giving small nods at the right moments to affirm my narrative while quietly downing a warm ale. He soon wandered off in search of the bathroom, but Cordelia stayed seated by my side, her hands resting demurely in her lap. Naira had been sympathetic. By all witnesses accounts I had been the victim. However, she still looked obviously worried, her hands shifting uncomfortably every now and again. ¡°Perhaps it would have been better if you had killed the lot of them. Simpler, at least,¡± she concluded shockingly. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± I spluttered in my mug, almost comically choking. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°I see your people have not completely forgotten their murderous ways,¡± commented Cordelia snidely, looking fixedly at the older woman. ¡°The Mirage is a known troublemaking foreigner,¡± she explained, ignoring Cordelia¡¯s barb. ¡°Foreigners have a way of causing trouble, and the gods know they have a habit of dying. They bring their feuds with them to Al-Lazar, bundling them in their hearts and planting them fresh on new soil, wherever they go,¡± she paused for a moment, as if sifting through a past memory. I could see Cordelia almost bristling at this. ¡°But now, there are three of them, Silver-ranked of the Guild, no less, who will feel themselves aggrieved by you. Fear will soon turn to thoughts of what could have been. It will fester away and turn to thoughts of petty vengeance. Such is the way of foolish men¡¯s pride,¡± she warned as she adjusted a loose strand of dark hair. ¡°They did not seem so formidable to me, and their leader, if my recollection serves me well, was a woman. And if that is the quality of the Silver rank in this city, then my Copper, and the Copper of my friends, will be shield enough,¡± I boasted, placing my own badge on the table. ¡°Samasa, forgive me, but you must let me point out that this is Al-Lazar. One does not rise to the Silver without making friends and allies along the way. The Mirage is a troublemaker, but she is tolerated for a reason. Powerful as you might personally be, copper still makes for a poor shield. Please, you must try and understand your predicament,¡± she stated, her tone skirting the edges of patronizing. ¡°It is perhaps you who does not quite understand the true power that I hold. Rest assured, and fear not overly for me,¡± I returned confidently, stretching out a kink in my shoulder. ¡°It is not you that I worry most for, but those that are near you. When the summoned storm comes, the tall tree may stand strong, but those around are never unscathed,¡± she rejoined with a little heat entering her voice. Irritated, I looked around, wanting an escape now from this interaction. Daylight was wasting away and I had other things that demanded my attention. ¡°I will not quibble words with you. Let me remind you, this was not a fight of my choosing. I am the victim here. Please, I urge that you speak your meaning plain,¡± I stated, letting my emotions bleed into my voice. The Aranthian woman looked at Naira with eyes filled with the embers of a long-held resentment. ¡°Yes, you lot have always had the penchant for twisting things to suit your ends. I sense you attempting to lead Gilgamesh down a thorny path,¡± muttered Cordelia with no small amount of contempt. ¡°Have I affronted you in some way? You are a guest here. Does your Goddess not teach you to love and offer at least a minimum of respect to your neighbors? Or have the scriptures been yet again changed?¡± responded Naira archly. ¡°Yes, please, Cordelia. A modicum of decorum and manners would be appreciated. Remember we are guests and foreigners in this land,¡± I added, with a tired sigh. Book 3: Liberation [Part 2] The woman warrior looked like she had something to add, but decided against it. Crossing her arms, she decided to instead glare at the older woman. What was the source of her anger? Was it simply unfounded racism, or was it something more? Some of her comments¡­ had been troubling. However, I decided that it had no real bearing in the current moment. ¡°Thank you, Cordelia,¡± I said politely, earning a small nod from the warrior woman. The older woman remained calm. ¡°Since you are a guest under my roof, I seek to warn you. Do not underestimate these people. Please take this without insult, for I know that you are still oh so very young, but you should not use arrogance in confidence¡¯s stead. As for my worries, I have many but I worry most for Zari.¡± ¡°I see now the gist of your words. Forgive me for being dull. You worry that she would suffer from some sort of reprisal, for being associated with me,¡± I conceded, rubbing my chin and noting the lack of stubble. My avatar had not changed one whit since being summoned to this land. ¡°Yes, and if you would allow me, I would like to buy her contract from you. The inn has done well, and I have put aside some money. The amount may be insulting, but¡­ she is my daughter. I may also have a solution for your current predicament.¡± ¡°A most wonderful solution,¡± muttered Cordelia. Sulking as she was, I realized then that it did little to detract from her cold, marble, almost divine beauty. Attractive people were thus blessed. I glanced up away from the conversation to see the object of our current discussion making her way towards me, eyes filled with silent reproach. As worrisome as an approaching storm. In the manner of men all over the world, stupidly and inappropriately timed as it was, I found myself comparing the three women before me. A stark contrast to Cordelia¡¯s bleak marble perfection, Zariyah had a dark beauty. And, if I was completely honest, it was the sort of beauty that felt much more attainable. Naira was an attractive woman in her own right, but Zariyah, bluntly speaking, was a younger, more attractive version of her mother. For some reason or other, I noticed that she had taken off the kohl and whatever cosmetics she used to enhance her natural beauty. It suited her. Without her painted face, she looked younger still, and I judged her to be younger than even myself. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. I could feel my heart quickening, my eyes lingering upon the mute woman. For a moment I entertained thoughts as to the possible sounds she would make in the bedroom. Giving in to the throes of passion, would her affliction force her to remain silent? As she drew closer, I felt an urge to score a few points and impress. ¡°Then you have misjudged me, and poorly at that. I have always intended to release your daughter. I simply required a guide for the city. Yet at every turn, events conspire to vex me. And I will not accept your money. Where I come from we do not deal in slaves like barbarians.¡± ¡°There is no slavery in Al-Lazar,¡± came Naira¡¯s automatic response, as her daughter sat quietly next to her. ¡°You may paint over rot, but the rot remains. It is my firm belief that slavery, in all of its forms, is a great evil that needs to be expunged, wherever it is found,¡± I responded as smoothly as possible. I noticed that Cordelia looked at me as if I was explaining some sort of cosmic truth, her lips moving to silently repeat my words. Surely those were inspirational words? Perhaps I needed to add some more conviction. I noticed that Zariyah looked as if she wished to say something, the strain of holding something back drawing her features tight. ¡°Is there something you would like to add?¡± I inquired politely. She looked at me then, not quite meeting my eyes. She shook her head and looked away. I was given to the study of her profile, the delicate arch of her nose, and the tilt of her eyes. I felt an urge to trace the line of her cheek, but I quashed it. Buried it beneath layers of decorum and doubt. Was it disappointment that had flickered across her face? Had my words fallen short? In the court of a woman¡¯s feelings, had I, unwittingly, played the fool? Had I failed an unseen roll of the dice? And for all that, not even a gain of Charisma. Did this world not reward doing good? Book 3: Cats & Dogs [Part 1] To the simple and common man, it must seem that the most puissant and powerful all wear the most monstrous of masks. - Attributed to the playwright Vlan di Panoli. ¡°Your daughter is free. I do not keep chattel. I find it unseemly and unworthy,¡± I exclaimed with a smug smile. ¡°And you would state such before a magistrate?¡± ¡°Of course. Your daughter¡¯s freedom was never mine to possess. That being said, I would still much appreciate it if Zariyah showed me some of the basic sights of the city. I have some alchemical samples that may be of some monetary value that I will need to sell, and the gear of my companions and I are in sore need of maintenance.¡± ¡°Might I suggest that you leave such matters with me? A foreigner unversed in the ways of the city may not command the most competitive price. I will send one of the boys to have these small matters seen to. It is the least I can do,¡± Naira offered, her voice almost breaking with emotion as she drew an unprotesting Zariyah to her. Wiping away a loose strand of her hair from her daughter''s face, she looked at Zariyah with eyes full of a mother¡¯s love. ¡°Take Master Gilgamesh to the Grand Bazaar and the Artificer¡¯s Quarter. Show him the wonders of our home,¡± Naira paused for a moment, pursing her lips in thought. ¡°You are a man of your letters, I presume?¡± ¡°I can certainly read, much better than I can write. In my land I would be considered somewhat of a scholar,¡± I replied casually. ¡°Then Scholar¡¯s Row may be of some interest to you. Zari, take him there, but be sure to stay away from the Dust Dens.¡± Zariyah simply nodded, no words needed for her part of acceptance as she played the part of the obedient child. ¡°With your permission, I will send the gear of you and your companions to a trusted armorer that comes recommended from the Guild. Also, when you return, there is something I must speak to you about. Another service that I can perhaps do for you, is to make the most of the predicament that you find yourself in.¡± While I appreciated the offer of a small tour and being relieved from the drudgery of a minor chore, I could not help but feel that I was getting the worse end of the deal. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Well then, since this matter is sorted, I would like to see the city now,¡± I said perhaps a little brusquely. ¡°As you wish, Samasa,¡± was in turn her curt reply. Zariyah rose and inclined her head towards me, gesturing that it was finally time to see the rest of the city. ¡°Oh, and Zari, you had best wear the veil when you are outside. We have had far more foreigners come in this year and there is no need to provoke them. Along with other¡­ less desirable sorts and riff raff,¡± Naira added almost offhandedly. Zariyah stiffened slightly in protest, her fingers about to sign her displeasure, but she stopped herself. It must be a tough thing to learn that the prejudices of yesterday followed us to the present. I could contain myself no longer. ¡°It must be boorish of me, no doubt of that, but why is it that your people are hated so?¡± I asked with a frown. Both women bristled at the inquiry, but it was the mother that decided to answer. ¡°Master Gilgamesh, you must be from lands further away than most to not know of our people and the feud that others have against us. There are those that blame our people for the Cataclysm, the event that once broke the world,¡± she answered, looking away with a long sigh. ¡°I will not go into the history or theological debate that those not of the Hazagadam justify their cruelty. Just let it be simply said that they believe, because we worship only the One God, our so-called sins brought about that dark event.¡± ¡°I am no stranger to cruelty and prejudice. It can be found in places high and low. A common affliction of the human condition, we don¡¯t need many reasons to learn to hate,¡± I responded, perhaps a little too vehemently. ¡°But there is more to it than that, isn¡¯t there? There is a reason that the children of the Hazagadam must bear the price of their parent¡¯s sins, no?¡± added Cordelia cooly, in almost a half-whisper. They both looked taken aback, the daughter oddly looking more confused than the mother. ¡°Perhaps you are right. I only know I was not born in the time of the Cataclysm, and neither were my parents nor my daughter. We had no responsibility for the breaking of the world,¡± Naira responded, her eyes flashing with fire. ¡°Cordelia¡­¡± I said through gritted teeth The lady knight nodded at this, giving out a radiant smile but holding her tongue. Truly, the woman did not learn and needed to be kept on a shorter leash. Why did she always deem it proper to obnoxiously add fuel to the flames? Perhaps it was time for a different approach. ¡°We really must be on our way. Cordelia will, of course, see to my equipment and Larynda¡¯s care. And keep the north man in check. I trust you above all to see to things in my absence,¡± I said placatingly, finally standing up. ¡°Naira,¡± I added, in a brief goodbye. Cordelia stood up and gave me a deep bow as if she were receiving the command of a king or lord. ¡°By your will,¡± she accepted most meekly, presenting an attitude at odds with her earlier displays and snide comments. Book 3: Cats & Dogs [Part 2] Without looking back, I finally exited the inn, drawing in deep the questionable city air. There was a hint of salt to it, under the scents of a pressed humanity. Still, it was relatively clean when compared to the barbaric squalor of Ansan. I barely walked three paces out into the street when I felt a small tap on my shoulder. Turning around I saw a somewhat bemused Zariyah with an expression between a frown and a thoughtful smile. She had me wait while she adjusted a veil around her face, covering her eyes. Her fingers flashed at me, their meaning only vaguely understandable until I remembered to use my Identify spell. Again, will you be playing the part of the guide or shall I? her delicate fingers slowing to a more understandable pace. ¡°Ahh, of course, lead on. I just wanted an escape from well¡­ all of that,¡± I answered, growing a little hot under my collar. ¡°The Grand Bazaar, right?¡± I added with a weak smile, wanting to change the subject. Her expression turned to one of bemusement. Yes, it is not too far from here. You had best follow and be sure to keep up, her hands messaged me. As she turned away to take the lead, there was a ghost of sad smile on her lips. With a sigh, I eagerly followed her, and together we navigated our way through the afternoon throng. She walked with a casual grace that would put most dancers to shame. Sure and confident, she adroitly avoided the various obstacles in her path. In comparison, I could only bumble along, my eyes overly distracted by the slight sway of her hips. As we continued, the streets began to change. The buildings were of a finer cut of stone, marble in places, and seemed to press closer together and reached several stories higher. By my reckoning, some of the domed buildings were about seven floors high. Incongruous to this, lines of rope burdened with laundry reached over the streets between them. When a light salt wind blew, an errant drop from above splashed on my face as I looked up. Slowly, I could feel that there was a more feverish buzz in the air. I could hear shouts as, somewhere up in the distance, hawkers cried out the price of their wares. In reaction, I couldn¡¯t help but clasp Zariyah¡¯s shoulder to stop her progress as she almost disappeared into the crowd. ¡°Where are we now? Where is this?¡± I asked. She looked at me, opening her mouth as if to laugh before quickly covering it with a hand. Uncovering her mouth, her lips began to move but no sound came forth. Looking embarrassed for some odd reason, she answered me instead with her hands. We are now in the Merchant¡¯s Quarter, and we will soon be at the Grand Bazaar, her fingers told, a polite and deferential smile on her face. Her eyes darkened as she saw something frightful behind me. ¡°Move your behind, or I will move it for you, you fool!¡± came a deep and throaty growl that could not belong to any man. Disturbed, I turned around to confirm. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Before me, a figure loomed, bearing a rough resemblance to a man. Clad only in loosely fitting trousers of local design, his presence was undeniably imposing. Despite being unclothed from the waist up, he was far from naked. Light brown fur covered a broad torso that rippled with slabs of lean muscle. Atop wide shoulders sat a large, maned leonine head with a maw parted to reveal formidable fangs that seemed on the brink of a roar. His hands and feet had claws that looked wickedly sharp. A tail swished behind him, signaling his animosity. Behind this daunting figure, three somewhat similar creatures stood, a mix of man and beast, though less formidable in stature. They were clawed and furred, but they possessed a leaner build and their faces were of distinctly lupine aspect. They snickered, yapping like feral dogs. These were the beastmen of your typical fantasy. A line of sweat ran down my back, and I saw the man-lion smirk, his feline eyes sparkling in delight with my discomfort. Thankfully my combat reflexes came to the fore, as I automatically cast an Identify on the leonine figure.
Hashmal the Fang of the Storm - Claw Savage (Beastkin lvl.9)
Health: 177/177 Stamina: 49/50 Mana: 7/7
As the spell returned to me with the information it had gathered, the leonine Beastkin pushed past me along with his wolfman posse. It was then that I burst out laughing, releasing all of the tension that had been building up within me. Like a burst dam, it left me in a flood. I vented great peals of laughter that could not be ignored. The situation was truly absurd. These Beastmen, their leader at least, were nothing more than low-level trash and not worthy of regard. The fact that he came with a grand sobriquet just added to the hilarity. Fang of the Storm, indeed! Hasmal stopped in his tracks, quivering with a new rage. ¡°You dare to mock me, feeble human!¡± Hashmal screamed in a primal challenge, his golden feline eyes glaring at me. ¡°No, not at all. It¡¯s just that¡­ not every day one can witness a domesticated house cat walk about on two legs,¡± I answered, uncaring of the consequences. Zariyah shot me a worried look as she unconsciously grasped my sleeve. Truly enraged, the lion like Beastkin let loose a deafening roar. I let the sound flow over me and through me. For that was all it was, just sound. The crowd scattered and shied away from us. Zariyah looked at me shocked as if I had sprouted horns. ¡°Wait, Hashmal. The naked ones are usually all weak, but this one¡­ He might be one of them. There is no fear scent on him,¡± one of his pack warned. ¡°Yes, we don¡¯t need human trouble. We are just here for the tournament, ¡®member?¡± another one of them whined. Yet, their warnings fell on deaf ears, For I continued to laugh, and the sound tinged with madness drew their leader Hashmal into a reckless charge. His claws, sharp as razors, lashed out with lethal intent. As it did with Sevas, the arm in which my mimic resided blocked an oncoming flurry of blows with almost consummate ease. Hashmal was not fighting one, but two entities. The Beastkin was, no doubt, objectively fast, but I had fought things that were faster and far stronger. Still, I was not invincible, and neither was my resident. The Mimics Health was slowly being chipped away with each successfully deflected blow. My vision narrowed to focus only on the leonine Beastkin and the world around us seemed to slow, every motion exaggerated, every detail crystal clear. Out of my heavy armor, I found that I could move with even greater speed. Hashmal had bitten off far more than he could chew. It was time to get some experience points. Book 3: Cats & Dogs [Part 3] Through the continuing flurry of blows, I launched an attack of my own, a Power Strike aimed at his center of mass. My closed fist flew like a rocket, smashing into flesh with a satisfying thunk. I needed to end this quickly. Though there was still lingering indecision in their posture, his friends looked like they soon would join in the fray. With a grunt of pain, he tried to create some distance between us. It was, however, too late, as my other hand was now grasping him with an iron grip. My fingers had sunk deep through to the rough skin beneath, denying the lionman his escape. I saw his expression change from surprise to worry, all in the blink of an eye. In response, Hashmal lashed out with his foot, desperately striking me for a measly ten points of damage. I grimaced more out of surprise than anything else. Again he kicked out at me, his claws inflicting this time only eight points of damage. This would simply not do. With a measured strike, I delivered a blow to Hashmal''s stomach. He doubled over, clutching his abdomen and collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. The pack, seeing their leader falter, surged toward me. Vaulting over the wheezing Hashmal, one lunged for my throat. My Mimic arm acted swiftly, shielding me, and the creature''s jaws clamped down on it, unable to pierce my skin, due to my passenger¡¯s protection. I was quickly learning how to fight with the Mimic and found it best to leave my defense to it. It was a simple matter of releasing conscious thought of the arm, the Mimic would do the rest. If I had any sense of fair play left in me I might have considered it cheating. Meanwhile, another pack member seized my leg, its teeth sinking into the flesh of my calf. But before it could rip away muscle and flesh, I dropped my stance and neutralized it with another Power Strike. My hand, swift as a blade, struck a precise hammer blow to the nape of its neck. With the threat neutralized, I thrust my foot forward, sending the stunned beast tumbling. When you fight someone, truly fight, there is a strange part of you that hesitates. It¡¯s the part of you that hesitates to strike at the groin, the throat, the eyes, or other vulnerability. This is the part of us that feels sympathy. We do not do it not out of a sense of misplaced honor, but because we feel the pain that we inflict. A truly selfish, and very human, thing. I felt none of that here. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! It is odd how we can lose focus at the strangest of times. Sudden movements at my periphery demanded my attention. The last of the pack I saw out of the corner of my eye. He looked worried as he cautiously circled us. His eyes darted and flickered about, looking for an opening. Although he snarled in my direction, a subsequent soft whine betrayed him. The wolf Beastkin gnawing at my arm slashed at me with his free claws, causing minor damage to my Health and, more irritatingly, to my clothing. I strained against him, trying to throw him off, but with his longer limbs, greater height, and weight, he had the leverage. His jaws clamped on tighter with desperation and I could see my Mimic¡¯s Health being eroded. We struggled like this, in a poor and pathetic display, my Health being whittled down by the second as he scratched and clawed at me, refusing to let me go. Stumbling and trying to trip each other, we tried to throw one another down to the floor as we grappled. Desperate, I started instead to strike at him, but again, this close, I lacked the distance to give my blows any real force or power. However, after a good amount of struggle, I was able to deliver a blow to his ribs, causing him to yelp in pain. His sudden cry caused him to release me, and I followed up with another punch to his nose, stunning him cold. Enough of this mindless brawl, and damned be the consequences of it, it was time to use my magic. The dark spells within me screamed in agreement, but these thoughts would soon be shattered like brittle glass. ¡°Stop!¡± came a halting voice, weak with defeat but strong enough to cut through to me. ¡°Stop, or she dies!¡± the last Beastkin threatened, drawing a claw near Zariyah¡¯s neck. The damn beast had got around me while I had been busy with his mates. Zariyah, caught in his grasp, could only offer a silent plea through her wide, frightened eyes. I looked at the wolf-man, saw the fear in his dog-eyes and his tail drooping between his legs. His eyes met mine, and what he saw reflected in my gaze must have frightened him further, for he looked as if he wanted to break out into a run as I took a step towards him. As I was looking around for something to use to distract the wolf-man or to play for time, I saw tall bronze halberds above the heads of a panicking crowd. Rapidly, they pushed and parted the gaggle of people. With a scramble of metal and leather, they coalesced into a formation of armored men, just under a score strong. At their front, their leader, no doubt, was a man clad and armored in bronze and misty-blue steel. Elegant runic inscriptions adorned his armor and weapons, while a helm topped with a white plume sat upon his head. ¡°Stop! Stop! Stop in the name of the City Guard!¡± the plumed soldier demanded, in a clear voice that was just a touch away from a shout or scream. He looked at me, then at the kneeling, and still spluttering, Hashmal, his fallen Beastkin friends, and finally at Zariyah being held hostage. His eyes sucked in all the details as they narrowed in focus. ¡°By the tits of the great Goddess, what in the heavens is going on here!?¡± he barked, his gray eyes alighting upon me. His stern gaze demanded nothing less than a truthful and concise answer. It seemed that trouble had once again found me at the most difficult of times. I could almost hear the dice of fate rolling as I prepared a suitable response. Book 3: Scripted Events [Part 1] The flowers of war are at their most beautiful when they blossom in spectacular disarray. - Unknown. I stood tall, drawing myself up to my full height, straightening my shoulders. As I did so, I couldn''t help but to remember, ¡®He who shouts first, shouts loudest¡¯. It was an old adage, half-remembered and probably incorrect, from a different time and a different place. With a deep breath, I mustered as much confidence as I could, "Please, allow me to explain¡­" The City Guard officer narrowed his eyes and stepped closer towards me. With a mere flick of his hand, he set his men into motion. On his silent command, he had ten guards encircle the Beastkin who held Zariyah hostage, their polearms poised to strike. Meanwhile, a crowd had gathered, obstructing the flow of traffic. "Move along! Move along," the officer commanded sharply, a hand on the jeweled sword at his hip, his order cutting through the buzz of the crowd. His men started to shepherd the city''s busy inhabitants around the scene, gently but firmly pushing away the onlookers. With thinly veiled annoyance he shouted, ¡°You there, Beastkin! Stinking savages, the lot of you!¡± He almost spat, his face twisting in disgust. ¡°Go on, I dare you. Kill her, see if I care. It¡¯s what your kind love doing. But the moment you finish having your little bit of fun, I¡¯ll have you all strung up from the gates,¡± he warned, with all the authority of his office. The wolf Beastkin looked around him and, seeing no new avenue of escape, released Zariyah with a defeated look. Some of the City Guards stepped aside to allow her through but kept the points of their weapons at Beastkin¡¯s neck. The girl hurriedly pushed the guards to stand by my side. With the immediate situation more or less diffused, he turned his attention back to me. The officer''s expression was one of sharp inquiry. "What is going on here? And who might you be?" he demanded sharply of Zariyah, prodding at her chest in a manner that was both rude and dismissive. Her reply was, of course, nothing but a prolonged silence, her expression set in defiance. Frustrated by her apparent reluctance to speak, he lifted his armored hand in a threatening gesture. A sneer crossed his face when he noticed her flinch. ¡°Thank the Goddess you are here! These horrid beasts attacked us!¡± I blurted out to divert his attention. ¡°I am just a simple adventurer, still new to this great city. I was drawn here by the promise of wealth and renown. I was making my way to the Grand Bazaar with my companion¡­¡± I paused, nodding to Zariyah who had her eyes closed, expecting the worst. ¡°When suddenly these animals¡­¡± I started, only to be silenced by the officer. ¡°Attacked you, you say? But even Beastkin would not be so stupid as to start violence within the walls without provocation¡­¡± the officer stated, removing his white-plumed helm. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°The man-thing threw scorn at us! You all here saw! Yes!? Yes!?¡± explained a half-recovered Hashmal, spluttering. A murmur ran through the members of the building crowd. ¡°That would indeed be a provocation for your kind. Still¡­¡± drawled the officer, as if he was enjoying the proceedings. Enjoying the petty power he held over us. ¡°I saw that savage animal start it, I did! Swiped at the man with those long sharp claws of his for no reason, he did. ¡®Haps they got the crazy disease, their brains go to jelly before they go even more beast-like¡­¡± came an oddly familiar voice from the crowd. It was a voice that I could not quite place. Hashmal gave out another roar but was silenced by one of the City Guards, who whacked him across the face with a heavy truncheon, smashing out a long white canine. ¡°I will have to add disturbing the peace to your crimes, animal,¡± the officer commented, nodding to the subordinate who had disciplined the lion Beastkin. One of his men who had been shepherding the crowd approached and saluted him. After a brief glance around, he leaned in to whisper something into the officer''s ear. Damnation, the last thing I needed was to be in trouble with the law. I had best play things safe. Even without using an Identify spell, I could tell that these men were a cut above the usual rabble. ¡°As I said before, I was just walking down to the Bazaar when these animals accosted me. They threatened us. You know how violent these things can get. Animals, aren¡¯t they?,¡± I offered in explanation. ¡°There is more, no?¡± the officer added lazily. ¡°Yes,¡± I stated with a nod. I needed to lay this on thick. Silently I thanked the voice in the crowd who had spoken out in my defense, before continuing, ¡°We were just on our way when these things threatened and accosted us for no good reason. They grabbed my companion and I defended myself to the best of my ability, but there were four of them¡­ and then you blessedly arrived before they could continue¡­¡± He looked at me thoughtfully as he sifted through my words, searching for lies, but found none. As always the truth was on my side. ¡°I think I¡¯ve seen and heard enough. The simplest of explanations are almost always correct. The Beastkin wanted a little fun with your lady friend, and of course, being the chivalrous and generous gentlemen you are, you stepped in and defended her honor,¡± the officer declared, causing the wolf Beastkin to give out another whine in protest. ¡°But what I can¡¯t understand is how you pummelled three of them, by the looks of things at least, all by yourself?¡± I looked him evenly in the eye, ¡°I had a just cause on my side.¡± ¡°How I see it, using nothing more than your fists, at that. Perhaps the next Festival will be interesting. That nothing more than a decoration?¡± he observed, noticing the dagger at my side. I looked at him quizzically for a moment. He mused aloud as if to no one in particular, ¡°Still, both parties have disrupted the city''s peace... I wonder what the penalty for that would be?¡± ¡°Perhaps, I can make some amends for taking up the precious time of the City Guard on such a trivial matter,¡± I suggested in a soft voice without batting an eyelid. I smirked inside. He had barely given the Beastkin a chance to defend themselves and had all but given me a shakedown. The upholders of law and order were as corrupt in this world as they were in mine. It was best that I stay on the right side of those who held some power over you. ¡°Yes, perhaps you can,¡± the officer replied with a superior smirk. Book 3: Scripted Events [Part 2]* Slowly, I drew a single silver coin from my purse which only caused the man to raise an eyebrow. With a small sigh, I produced another coin. ¡°Most generous. Most generous, indeed. You truly must be new to Al-Lazar to donate such an amount in hard coin,¡± he guffawed, causing his men to chuckle with him nervously. ¡°The name is Ahmed Rafiq¡­ would you give me your name? For the record, of course.¡± Had I misjudged him? Had the raised eyebrow been nothing more than signaling his surprise at being paid in real solid silver? Either way, it was too late now. I drew a breath to calm myself. ¡°Gilgamesh of Uruk,¡± I responded flatly, but politely. Even as I gave my name, I gathered the threads of Mana within and sent them questing to gauge the man before me and confirm the truth of his words. Identify was working hard, this day.
Ahmed Alim - Council Guard (Human lvl.17)
Health: 195/195 Stamina: 27/33 Mana: 9/9
"An unfamiliar name, but one I shall endeavor to remember. Making a friend of the City Guard is a wise move indeed. Should you find yourself in any trouble in Al-Lazar, I might be inclined to assist, provided your generosity continues," he said, his eyes gleaming with avarice. With a sharp barked-out command, Ahmed directed his men, "You lot, round up these creatures and lock them in the cages where they belong!" The guards saluted briskly before descending on the Beastkin. They subdued any remaining resistance in them with the truncheons and clubs at their hips, secured them in irons, and then frog-marched them away, parting the crowd as they went. Ahmed, following his men briefly, stopped a moment later to offer me parting words. "Adventurer Gilgamesh of Uruk, savoring a job well done is a rare pleasure indeed. I wish you and your companion a good day." He then added, with a cautionary tone but a sly smile, "A word to the wise, fraternizing with a crimson whore invites trouble. Not that I can blame you," he said, his smile turning rakish. I turned over his words and unfamiliar nomenclature, thinking that he had insulted me in some way. Understanding came a few heartbeats later when I realized that I was not out on my own. ¡°Indeed, Ahmed Alim,¡± I blurted, my words coming out faster than I intended. ¡°I have heard such advice before in regards to your sister, but that has not stopped the long line of men who vie for her attentions. You would also do your best to mind your manners around my friends. Especially those of the fairer sex,¡± I said in my most friendly and false voice. It was a poor rejoinder, but it was the best I could do at the time in a language that was not my mother tongue. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. He paused for a moment, giving me an odd look and I smirked in response. Ahmed looked as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. Simply turning around, he gave a dismissive yet casual wave and rejoined his men. Soon he was lost in the crowd. The tall polearms of the City Guard, bobbing above the heads of the general public, gradually disappeared from view.
You have gained 1 Charisma
As I read the notification, I could not help the thin smile that crept its way across my face. I would consider two silver coins a good bargain for a permanent increase to one of my attributes. That and a sprinkling of experience points from throwing down hands with the Beastkin. My fists were clenched tightly at my sides, and I noticed I was shaking. Was I shaking because of frustration, fear, or anger? Perhaps relief, a quieter voice inside of me suggested. Maybe it was a blend of all four. Taking a deep breath, I stilled myself to take stock of the situation, now that the danger had passed. Part of me wanted to scream out in protest at the waste of money. A different, darker part of me felt frustration that I had not slaughtered the lot of them, consequences be damned. Still, they had certainly got what they deserved. The irons suited them. Could have done with a few more points of experience though. Zariyah and I drifted off to the side of the street to let the growing traffic pass. ¡°Are you alright,¡± I asked softly. She simply nodded, looking spooked. We were both likely still processing the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded. In my life, excitement had a peculiar way of arriving. All at once, overwhelming and without warning. ¡°Do you want to go back?¡± To this, she surprisingly responded by shaking her head weakly. She gave me a weak smile. This is life in the city of Dust. I did not expect you to be the center of so much trouble on your first day here. Your friends were right to say that you attract trouble as honey does flies. But, you possess a rare strength, I think. I can see how the others are drawn to you. You treat those of the Silver like they were children and the savage Beastkin as if they were unruly pets. You choose violence when silence would serve you better. What is it that drives you, Gilgamesh? She asked with her hands. ¡°What I want is freedom¡­ a freedom from something you could never understand. Free from the shadow of an eventual death. I don¡¯t want to die, I guess I want to live forever,¡± I confessed with a weak smile. Her brow furrowed prettily in confusion. Freedom for a free man? From anyone else I would think this nonsense¡­ but you mean it don¡¯t you? You are young and have no cause to fear death. ¡°I do not mean to be overly dramatic, but I have met with death too many times. I know the dark oblivion that it is,¡± I replied a touch defensively. Fearing something so far in the future will only color your present with sadness. I think I understand now¡­ And when you laugh, I hear the echo of the Winds¡¯ madness in your voice. It troubles me. This was her reply, her finger¡¯s movements straight, crisp, and sure. I crossed my arms and replied archly, ¡°Should I be taking this as an observation or a complaint against my character?¡± Take it however you wish, her hands messaged, as her usual thorny mask reasserted itself. With a small huff, she started off back down the road, giving me no choice but to follow her. Women, as always, were as inscrutable as the faraway stars. Book 3: Scripted Events [Part 3] Unlike women in general, and Zariyah in particular, the ¡®game system¡¯, or whatever it was I had been given, was more comprehensible. My condition, broken down into numbers, could be understood at a glance and I saw that, already, my Health was steadily ticking back up, due to my Minor Regeneration. Iasis¡¯ blessing was most useful indeed, but what would be the price of it? That aside, it would do nothing for my clothing, torn now in places, but that was a minor annoyance at worst. Moving together with the flow of the city, we arrived at the Grand Bazaar, a spectacle of raw capitalism at play. The air was filled with the cacophony of merchants, their voices slicing through the noise, boasting of their goods as though narrating epic tales. Amidst this, men and women engaged in spirited haggling over exotic goods, their exchanges resembling a playful pantomime. Money changed hands, sealing deals where the line between victor and vanquished was blurred. The Bazaar also unleashed a barrage of scents upon me; the heady mix of incense, spices, and the unmistakable presence of animals and humans. A potent blend that threatened to overwhelm my senses. Immediately I was mobbed by a gaggle of children, pulling at my sleeves. They entreated me to visit this stall or that, promising, of course, the best of prices. I shooed them all off like the annoying tenacious gnats they were. Please, for the love of the heavens, try not to cause any trouble here. And be careful of your purse, there are pickpockets and thieves here on occasion. An obvious foreigner like you would make for an easy mark, Zariyah advised, turning to me and displaying a hint of a grin. ¡°Quite,¡± was my simple sardonic response. Escaping the mob of children, we ventured forth into the Bazaar proper. The people were garbed in all manner of clothes. Vivid hues jostled with somber blacks and resplendent whites in a tapestry of visual discord. There was no organization to the Grand Bazaar, no rhyme or reason. Beside a stall brimming with exotic fruit and vegetables, a jeweler displayed his wares. A gemstone, set in a filigree of silver chained to the stall, shone like a captive star. A few paces further in, a book stall sat next to a display of weapons of various quality. Each merchant, a lord of their small domain, competed for our gaze and coin with cries and enticements. I had no need of more weapons to cut, bludgeon, and maim with. Instead, it was the collections of paper, papyrus, vellums, and parchments for sale that drew me. I gazed over the display of books and scrolls, ignoring the merchant until my eyes alighted on a leather-bound tome. The old book was worn with age and the stain of time, but the title could still be clearly read, ¡®The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney¡¯. Beron, I had seen or heard that name before¡­ The book caught my interest, and I was in dire need of new reading material. I gestured for the bookseller to come over, and tapped the book. ¡°I see you have an excellent eye and impeccable taste. That fine volume is a rare treasure, indeed. One and a half shekels, silver, for you samasa,¡± the book merchant proposed in a reedy voice. He was an old man, his beard mostly gray going white. His face was pitted and lined, and he looked to be of the same age as some of the ancient books that he sold. Long, lank hair fell from the edges of a small bright red hat, similar to a Moroccan Fez. As he took off his spectacles, I saw that his eyes were rheumy and unfocused. More to the point, I was happy that he made no comment about my somewhat shambolic appearance. ¡°I saw another copy at another stall for half the price,¡± I countered smoothly. ¡°Bah, then you would have been better off throwing your money into the sea. This is a genuine, printed from the presses of Quas. Look, see here,¡± boasted the old man, tapping at a small mark on the spine. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°But at half the price, surely the contents would be the same?¡± I ventured. ¡°Those copies be made by hand, and prone to error more than not. A misspelled word here, a different turn of phrase there, and a new part added to satisfy a calligrapher¡¯s vanity. You would be better with a genuine article. Still, they might make for a prettier piece, but a book made by the presses is a more perfect copy of Laney¡¯s original words. One and a half shekels is more than a fair price for his wisdom,¡± insisted the old man. I looked at him bemused, for it was odd that a mass-printed book was worth more than a hand-copied one. What sort of logic did this world operate on? In accordance with local custom, I handed over a promissory note worth ten silver coins. I was almost surprised when he handed back to me the correct amount of change. It was a first for me, and I did my best to hide my surprise as we completed the transaction. We parted ways with a small formal bow to each other, Zariyah mirroring me soon after, and walked further in. A seller who traded in all manner of animals bade us look at his stock. All of them were colorful creatures of paradise, of feather and scale. Birds with long plumed feathers, and frilled and maned lizards whose scales shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow. It would have been a wondrous sight, but I saw the frustration and melancholy in their eyes. Trapped in cages and robbed of their freedom, their futures were bleak, at best, and this turn of thought robbed the experience of its wonder. Pressing on a little past, we saw that there was a section exclusively devoted to the sale of beasts. A strong animal scent filled the air, and the cries of a variety of animals both familiar and unknown could be heard. The whinny of horses, the barks of dogs, and the rumble and hiss of lizards all mixed into a chaotic cacophony. All manner of beasts can be found in the Grand Bazaar of Al-Lazar, Zariyah shared with me. The smell in this section is most pungent, I hope you are not planning to take a closer look, she inquired, curling her nose in distaste. In response, I raised my hand, just scanning the area for beasts I had yet to encounter before. I smiled when I saw a creature reminiscent of the Ceratopsians of Earth¡¯s past. However, this specimen boasted six legs and was sheathed in a far more formidable armor. Thick, bony knobs and plates adorned its back and flanks forming an almost solid shell. It dragged behind it a tail that ended in a fearsome array of solid bone spikes. Upon closer inspection, it bore a striking resemblance to a gigantic tortoise, though it possessed a bony frill and a single horn jutted proudly from its snout. A bony ridge, or cervical, extended just behind its thick frill, where a boy with a serious demeanor rode atop the creature. Burly men, bare-chested, gently prodded the creature''s flank with long poles, guiding it toward the gate of its pen. With a bit more urging, the beast moved forward, issuing a low, mournful bellow that seemed to resonate with a sense of resigned acceptance. ¡°What manner of creature is that?¡± I asked, trying to keep my voice even. It had been an awesome sight. Brave, indeed, must have been the first men to tame such a beast. You have never seen Lumashitu before? ¡°No, but we have creatures somewhat vaguely similar to it, though nothing close to its size. A rhino, or perhaps a small elephant, would be the closest modern analog. Though there are precious few of them now. An ignorant people believe that their horns hold medicinal properties so they have been hunted to near extinction. There is about as much magic and medicine in their horns as there are in my fingernails,¡± I commented, a bit of bitterness edging into my tone. I see, of course, you haven¡¯t. Well, these creatures come from the jungles north of here. Remarkably resilient creatures, they are as comfortable working the farm fields as they are charging across the battlefields. They command a hefty price, yet despite this, the Council of Al-Lazar boasts a unit of Lumashitu cavalry. Their charge is legendary, said to be unstoppable, came her explanation, a small bit of pride coloring her manner. That one, by its size, is a female, she finished, pointing at the docile Lumashitu. Her nose wrinkled as if she had found something distasteful. Offering her a wry grin, I was unable to resist a playful tease, "Is that so? No wonder it was so stubborn about doing what it was told." Yes, yes, but please can we go now? she beseeched, almost pouting in resignation. ¡°Yes, as the lady commands,¡± I stated, giving her an exaggerated bow. Surprisingly, instead of rolling her eyes as I expected, she gave me a formal curtsy in response. More importantly, she smiled at me, and I felt my heart beat just a little faster. Book 3: Ups & Downs [Part 1] ¡®There are things that not even coin can buy¡¯ is the mantra of the destitute. - Unknown. With renewed enthusiasm and a new skip to my step, I wandered through the Grand Bazaar, Zariyah at my side. Meandering past merchants peddling expensive, aromatic spices, she shared the names of those she recognized, detailing their origins and uses. However, I found my attention drifting. I was more captivated by the subtle smile curving her lips and the spark in her eyes than her shared knowledge. Despite this, her silent explanations brought the world around me to life as no lesson or lecture ever could. Focused completely on her, I did not see the changing numbers at the corner of my vision. In those moments I could almost believe that I was not trapped in the hellish dimension of a game. Could one truly have feelings for a character from a game? If countless girls could tumble head over heels for someone who existed solely within the pages of a book, then surely the same could be said for a digital creation. Troubling, but in a sort of good way. It might be just an illusion, but the feelings I held were real. As she concluded another explanation, her gaze fell gently. Thank you, she seemed to murmur with her fingers sketching a rare gesture of gratitude. "For what, exactly?" I queried, a touch of confusion in my voice. For everything, she replied, her eyes diverting, avoiding mine. When Gelgor transferred my contract to you, I feared the worst. I anticipated harsh treatment, to be ravaged like a¡­ She paused, the bloom of a blush coloring her face. "I would never," I started to protest, but she continued over me. Please, let me finish. This hasn''t been an easy transition. Living in fear, only to find the reality so starkly different... It''s like being adrift in a tiny boat amidst a tempest, at the mercy of the surging waves. You''ve looked upon me with almost open lust in your eyes, yet you''ve scarcely laid a hand on me. Despite having every right, given I was all but your property. Why? Surely, you find me attractive... "Indeed, I could have claimed you. But that would have meant not truly having you, the real you," I responded. The words felt clich¨¦d as they left my mouth, yet she seemed to take them to heart. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Her smile then, playful and teasing, lit up her eyes. You nearly convince me that I''m a noble lady from the tales of old, not a despised Hazagadam. Despite knowing what I am, you treat me with such kindness. We hardly know each other, yet you accord me respect as if I hold some great worth. She paused, her lips pursed in thought before she carefully added, And... you''re the first to ever defend me in such a manner¡­ against a captain of the City Guard, no less. I can''t fathom why. "Maybe it''s simply in my nature," I replied with a hint of playfulness, gently lifting her chin to meet her gaze. You claim to be a man of your word, and thus I am a free woman. If I am to believe you, then please, do not touch me like that in public again, she stated firmly after she pushed me away. The moment of tenderness evaporated, and her thorny defensive side swiftly returned. Where on earth did I go wrong there? The Hazagadami woman led me next to a different part of the Bazaar. Here all manner of oddities and trinkets were being sold. Things like a magical bracelet that could help improve your insight could be found next to a tube of farseeing, a device I recognized to be some sort of telescope. Of the magical items, the greater majority of them were fraudulent, and the ones that I identified to have some modicum of magic were exorbitantly expensive. Most interesting of all was a wooden mask. Its seller advertised it as a good luck charm at the reasonable price of four gold, but my magic determined that it was really a cursed item.
Mask ¡®Voice of the Flood¡¯ [Magic][Cursed][Witchwood]
Durability 259/260
A rather ominous name, I thought to myself. Now that I knew it to be cursed, I could almost feel the malevolence being emanated by the mask. Either that, or I had a rather active imagination. Curiosity tugged at me, tempting me to uncover the nature of the curse. However, prudence advised against such an inquiry, suggesting that some mysteries are better left unexplored. I told the red-eyed girl of my findings, but she merely just shrugged her shoulders. All manners of things are sold here, was her simple and curt reply. How could I fix the current tension? I much preferred the woman when she smiled. ¡°Zariyah, you know of a place where I can sell some rare alchemical materials?¡± I asked, breaking the silence. Here of course, if we find a potion peddler. And perhaps also on Scholar¡¯s Row. I have not been here for a long time so¡­ Perhaps you can ask one of the merchants here? she answered, shrugging noncommittally. It was a start at least. Book 3: Ups & Downs [Part 2] Looking around, I saw a merchant at his stall selling what looked to be large umbrellas. Odd, I thought initially, for this region looked to be a dry area and the rains were said to be rare here. Telling Zariyah of my curiosity, she looked at me oddly but nonetheless followed me as I approached the stall. Sitting on a small wooden stool, the merchant was a diminutive figure, his skin a deep, dark swarthy olive. Dressed in garish, tight pink attire, he was completely bald, lacking even the slightest hint of facial hair. His arms, bare from the shoulder down, were smooth and unblemished, mirroring the hairlessness of his face. Slender and lean, his physique suggested a lack of muscle. When he spoke to us, his voice carried a high tenor that was both effete and slightly off-putting. ¡°You wish to purchase a parasol for the lady,¡± he inquired, sidling up to us like a greedy crab. ¡°Yes, a red one. It will go well with the lady¡¯s eyes,¡± I agreed with a fixed smile. His expression froze for a moment, uncomfortably, before he recovered his professional mien. Zariyah looked away uncomfortably, her fingers trailing across a dark green colored bolt of cloth. Please, I am sorry if I was short with you. Please, can we just move on? her fingers begged. I chose to pointedly ignore her. ¡°Of course, samasa, I have such a thing,¡± he said smoothly, producing an item for inspection. ¡°A beautiful item, Qisnian silk and a wonderful shade of crimson¡­ to¡­ go well with the lady¡¯s eyes, as you say.¡± I accepted. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± ¡°Excellent, sir. Now that will be¡­¡± ¡°A single silver piece,¡± was my monotone offer. ¡°Heaven¡¯s forfend, samasa. The lowest I can part with such a piece of art would be three!¡± he shrieked almost girlishly. If he was acting, then it was a good performance for a few idle passersby who turned to look in our direction. ¡°Then two silver it is,¡± I countered, gauging his reaction. He was difficult to read, but I could tell I could probably get away with this price. I waited a moment, looking for telltale fractures of weakness, and found none. Perhaps three silver was a reasonable price. Also, there was something that I valued more than just saving a single silver piece. ¡°Very well, three then, if you can tell me of an Alchemist willing to buy rare herbs for a good price,¡± I offered, placing some notes on his counter. ¡°Very well, then,¡± he sighed as if he was doing me a great favor. ¡°I know of such a man. Vincenzio of Scholar¡¯s Row is always in need of plants for his experiments. You will find his place of business in the basement of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild,¡± he sniffed, counting out the money. Once he was certain of the amount, he offered the parasol to Zariyah with a bright smile. Sheepishly she accepted, unfolding the parasol. It was a truly beautiful piece, a deep crimson with gold floral motifs that ran along the edges. Around the tip were the petals of a different flower, a flower I recognized now to be almost synonymous with the city. The Asixum, the flower and source of the Dust. I found it fitting, in a way. The purchase must have agreed with Zariyah, for a hesitant smile played about her features and lit up her eyes. She twirled her new present about, the patterns on the parasol lost in a blur as we walked on. ¡°I am glad that you like it, but you might hit someone with that,¡± I gently chided. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. She paused for a moment, stilling. Zariyah looked confused, as if undecided as to what to say next. Robbed of her voice, her mouth uttered a quiet, no.. silent, thank you to me. Then she smiled, and for me, that was thanks enough. Internally, I shook my head. The woman¡¯s, or girl¡¯s, rather, mood was as changeable as the weather in autumn. ¡°You are, of course, very welcome. Next, we must be off to this Scholar¡¯s Row, on our quest to find this Vincenzio!¡± I exclaimed, touching her elbow lightly. I could not help notice that she shivered at my touch, almost as if recoiling from me. That moment stung perhaps a bit more than it should have. Creating some distance from me, she gave a fixed and polite smile. That is an interesting way of bargaining, she commented with her hands. Was it me, or was I becoming adept enough at sign language to notice a hint of sarcasm in her motions? ¡°It is the only way to bargain when one does not have any true leverage. First, you must find their limit. Then you see what more you can get without costing the other side anything, without compromising your position,¡± I replied none too proudly. Funny. To me, it looked like something else. A form of clumsy extortion without actually extorting anything from the other side. Or, a way to save face from a bargain poorly struck, she replied with a shrug. I was beginning to reach my limit. Even communicating with her was slowly becoming a waste of good Mana. ¡°Must you always be so combative? Can I do no right in your eyes? You saw how that merchant reacted, do you in all honesty think you could have gotten a better price? You being, what you are and all,¡± I added sarcastically, regretting my words almost as quickly as they came out of my mouth. Her eyes flashed fire at me. Me being what I am. Thank you for reminding me. For a moment I thought you were different. ¡°I¡­ I apologize if I have offended,¡± I offered cautiously, attempting a retreat. How could you have caused offense? You were only saying the truth as you saw it. A truth I see every day, and that others have commented on nearly every day of my life, was her sharp response. Looking around, I was glad that she had no voice to cause me embarrassment. It made displays such as these at least vaguely tolerable. There was no point arguing here, I had to just take my lumps and grin and bear it. ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry, alright. There, I am sorry. Let¡¯s leave it at that and just try to enjoy the rest of¡­ whatever this is,¡± I suggested, trying not to grit my teeth. She sighed a long sigh, no doubt blaming me for all the ills in the world. Leaving the Grand Bazaar behind, she guided me towards Scholar¡¯s Row. Entering the quarter was almost like entering a different country. Paved streets transitioned to cobblestones, while the architectural uniformity of the buildings dissolved into an eclectic mix of designs and sizes. Squat, gray structures neighbored slender, yellow towers. At one juncture, an arch spanned the street, serving as a bridge that linked two residences. To me, Scholar¡¯s Row presented itself as carefully orchestrated architectural chaos. Zariyah paused and leaned down to communicate with someone I initially mistook for a small ugly child. However, upon closer inspection, it became clear they possessed distinctly adult features. The individual had bushy orange eyebrows and a beard. He had a face that appeared unusually compact as if the clay of his features had been squeezed roughly together by an overenthusiastic potter. Her words were very formal and she used the honorifics at all times. From what I could gather through their conversation this area of the city had seen quite a lot of change. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild was one of the victims of an urban redevelopment policy and had moved to a larger site. Almost apologetically, she asked the little man thing for directions to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Tersely, he gave a quick reply, his expression one of someone who had just been forced to do an unpleasant chore. With a huff he excused himself, once he answered her question, stomping off to whatever business we had interrupted. Zariyah remained bowing until he was out of sight. Noticing my somewhat incredulous look, she decided to explain. He was of the Giants, as they call themselves. They do not speak with their voices with others not of their kind. I could not help giving a flippant reply, ¡°Giants, you say? There was nothing particularly giant about him.¡¯ Not for their stature are they so named, but for their creations. In the times before the Cataclysm, the wise say they built the Green Road. In the modern age, they made the walls that protect the city and the deep wells that sustain us. That is why they are known as Giants. They are worthy of deep and great respect and you should be careful how you address them, she warned. She pursed her lips in thought, It is good that you know the language of the flowing hands¡­ The Giant told me that the Guild has moved to a different building. This way. Book 3: The Al-Lazar Branch [Part 1] For the average man, the concept of free will is the grandest illusion. Yet, this misconception is dwarfed by the more profound and enveloping deception experienced by those touched by Mana. Forces whose natural state is one of indefinite paradox. Those blessed, or perhaps cursed, by Mana operate under the belief that their choices are their own. However, their actions are manipulated by Mana, a pattern as old as the universe. This deception is so deeply ingrained within the fabric of their souls that they never think to question its reality as they are slowly molded into something other. What remnants of free will they might possess are slowly traded for new invisible shackles on their souls. This is the reason for their madness as they progress down their ¡®path¡¯. But there is a force even more constraining than this. The notice of the gods. Once their gaze is upon you, and their voice reaches your ears, you are irrevocably transformed into a mere extension of their divine will. Gone now is the illusion and all pretext that man¡¯s choices are his own. - Attributed to the Wrack Witch before her execution circa 245 AC. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild was not what I expected it to be. A walled and sprawling edifice of clashing Western and Eastern architectural styles, it was a fortress in miniature. A blue and white tiled mosaic of the Guild¡¯s symbol, a sword crossed over a burning torch, was displayed proudly above a large arch that opened the compound to the busy public. Through this, I could see a large squat keep, past a courtyard of graveled stone. The keep seemed to be more a hodgepodge collection of cut yellow stone than a proper construction. Behind this crude construction, a wooden pagoda with golden tiles rose elegantly upwards toward the sky. A small group of three, of what I assumed to be adventurers, stood just outside the threshold and seemed to be having a heated discussion. ¡°That is the last time I¡¯m doing a job in the sewers, this is not what I signed up for,¡± moaned a rather vexed diminutive woman, hands on her hips. Freckled and pale in complexion, her face was stained with the color of emotion. ¡°If I wanted to trudge through muck, I would have stayed at the farm! Heavens, even though I spent half a day washing I can still smell it!¡± Garbed in dull gray robes and a wide broad-brimmed hat, she had a long wooden staff, festooned with fetishes and gems. A magic user, if I were to make a guess. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°Don¡¯t be like that. I told you before, Tally, and for the umpteenth time, we need to do jobs like these to get some success under our belt. Look right, we knock out a few more easy jobs, talk to Aylin, then we do better stuff once we get the Bronze. You know how things is¡­¡± replied a middle-aged and dejected-looking man, his voice frayed with annoyance born from a long-time association. His stained rust-splotched coat-of-plate and notched weaponry gave him a decidedly disheveled appearance. In stark contrast, he wore a necklace featuring a large red gem. A ruby, at my best guess, that hung prominently at his front. Although roughly cut, the gem was clearly valuable, showcased on a fine chain of untarnished silver. It seemed wasted on him, like fine jewels on a pig, and for a moment, the temptation to rip it from his neck was almost overwhelming. A tall man, whipcord thin, suggested in a reedy voice, ¡°I¡¯m with Tally on this one, Gers, I¡¯d rather ride out a bit into the Wastes than mess about in the sewers. It¡¯s that time of year, right? They say the Alchemist in the basement always wants those horns and offers good money for ¡®em.¡± ¡°Hiring mounts¡¯ll cost us a pretty penny. More trouble than it¡¯s worth, hunting those three-eyed freaks. Finding ¡®em is also half the problem. Can¡¯t read the sands like I can the forests of home. Remember Del and his crew? They went out like yesterday, came back empty-handed, the lot of ¡®em. I say keep things steady, keep things slow. It ain¡¯t the best job, but it''s safe, if not a little dirty,¡± explained Gers, sighing as he bore the weight of the world upon his shoulders. ¡°Tell me, where is the man who promised me the good and easy life in the City of Gold, eh? Tell me¡­¡± shrilled the one called Tally, in complaint. ¡°Not for that promise did you follow Gers, Tally¡­¡± started the tall, thin man. "Excuse me," I chose to interject, flashing my most convincing, fabricated smile. "Is this the Adventurer''s Guild?" "What tipped you off? The massive, glaring crossed sword and torch?" the small woman retorted, directing her annoyance squarely at me. "Tally..." Gers cautioned, rubbing at a spot behind his neck. Ignoring the woman, I decided to instead focus on the mercenary pauper. ¡°The name is Gilgamesh, a fellow adventurer. If you would be so kind, could you tell me where I can find the job board? I am still new to this city¡­¡± Taking off a beaten spangenhelm that had seen better days, he addressed me. ¡°Pleasure to meetcha. Names Gersal. Over there in that building is where you can find the copper and bronze rank jobs,¡± explained Gersal, pointing at the squat yellow keep. ¡°I don¡¯t think you are of the Iron or Silver, but just¡¯n case, the Tower of Triumph is where you can find the higher-ranked requests. Bloody self-aggrandizing name if you ask me though¡­¡± he added, pointing at the Pagoda. Gersal looked like he was about to say something else, but he was beaten to it by the other member of the group. ¡°What happened to you? Looks like you got in a fight with a pack of animals. I thought we had it bad with sewer work¡­ bloody giant rats¡­¡± the tall one commented. ¡°Indeed. I had a run-in with a few violent animals, the bipedal sort. Anyway, thank you for answering my questions. It is most appreciated,¡± I said grinning. Giving them all a small formal bow, I moved off. Behind me, Zariyah hurriedly mimicked my actions and chased after me. Book 3: The Al-Lazar Branch [Part 2] There was a crunch of gravel underfoot as we crossed the courtyard. We passed by several groups, much like Gersal¡¯s, on the way to the yellow keep, their equipment and composition as varied as the flowers in the field. Some seemed to be veterans of campaigns and adventurers long forgotten, grizzled men holding old weapons and donning utilitarian and well-maintained armor. Others were younger, their gear freshly forged and newly bought. The weapons at their waists they wore awkwardly, the tools of their trade looking more the part of a costume. The assortment did not end there, for several parties featured eclectic mixes of species. Dwarves and Beastkin, even a dark-skinned elf, were peppered about here and there. It was quite the tapestry of diversity. I was tempted to use Identify on the more interesting individuals, but with my magical reserves at about half, I decided against it. Stepping through the open doors into the main hall designated for lower-ranked adventurers brought a welcome surprise. The hall''s interior offered a refreshing coolness, a stark contrast to the outside''s balmy heat, and was alive with the sound of bustling activity. Along the hall''s length, long tables and benches provided spaces for various adventurers to exchange tales, enjoy refreshments, or simply unwind. The serving staff, dressed in white shirts with billowing sleeves and necklines, complemented by black waistcoats, moved through the throng, attentive and efficient. At the hall''s far end, pink marble counters staffed by the Guild¡¯s personnel dealt with a neatly formed queue of people waiting patiently for their turn. Each person handed a miscellany of items to the Guild staff, including plants - root, stem, and flower, rocks, an ancient clay pot, and body parts wrapped in rough cloth. In exchange, they received money and a polite smile. To the right, a considerable gathering clustered around a large notice board that dominated its corner. This must be, of course, the job board. I contemplated checking out the latest postings, but the crowd''s size, which seemed to swell by the moment, dissuaded me from this course. Moreover, after a brief reflection, I concluded that it wouldn''t be appropriate to select jobs without consulting my companions first for their input. Even though the group was not run by a majority vote, I knew well enough that people appreciated being consulted. It made them feel important. Instead, opting for a moment¡¯s pause, I decided to take a seat. I sat with Zariyah next to me. An awkward silence grew between us, creating a wall. Seeking to keep my hands busy, I took a slate tablet that I assumed to be today¡¯s menu. Strange symbols, curved and boxy were inscribed upon it, their meaning unclear to me. Without looking at me directly, Zariyah broke the silence without disturbing it. Her fingers moved in a pattern I could decipher now without the age of magic, Can you read it? Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. I never had the chance to learn, my own fingers waggled clumsily in reply. She looked at me in puzzlement, and I went through the motions again. You are terrible, she smiled, biting down on her lower lip to stop the expression from spreading. Of course, you never had the chance to learn. I¡¯ll read it for you. This world¡¯s sign-language was mainly phonetic, with only a few words baked into specific gestures, making it easier to learn. I had observed her in our time together, drinking deep of her detail. I never truly could forget the details that Identify revealed to me. It was a growing catalog of memories, magically seared into my mind, ranging from the most trivial items to the mightiest foes I had faced. The information remained as clear in the present as it was the first time I cast the spell. However, I would have to agree with her that my execution must have been rather bad. No need, just order something for you and me. Something light, was my halting response. Or rather you tell me what I should order, I added a little clumsily. In the end, it had taken me three tries to actually convey my meaning. I could have just spoken to her, she was mute, not deaf, but a part of me did not want to break the silence. It was a shared moment, an island for two in the noise of the busy establishment. I¡¯ll have the day¡¯s set and you should do the same. Watered wine if it pleases you, was her reply. A server came, a young girl with curly orange hair and a wide beaming smile. ¡°What will you two be having then,¡± was her cheerful inquiry that broke our private moment. Her infectious expression caused me to smile back in reflex. ¡°Two of the day¡¯s set, and watered wine for the both of us, if you would be so kind,¡± I ordered. Acknowledging and repeating my order she gave us another sunny smile and started to move away. ¡°A moment please¡­¡± I stopped, grabbing her lower arm. This time the smile she sent my way was forced. ¡°Can I get you anything else,¡± she asked primly, looking at my hand as if it were a venomous snake. ¡°Apologies,¡± I said as placatingly as possible, slowly releasing her arm. ¡°But where might I find a certain Vincenzio the Alchemist?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll find Vince in the basement, over there, down the stairs,¡± the serving girl answered in almost a huff. ¡°Now, if you will excuse me,¡± she finished, turning up her nose in annoyance as she made her exit. I looked at Zariyah, seeing the hint of a barely repressed mocking smile at the corner of her lips. ¡°Not a word,¡± I warned irritably. Book 3: Beron鈥檚 Dream* Puissant indeed are the priests of the River. When touched by their God, they are given the power to pierce the veil of what is yet to come and to peer into the mists of the forgotten past. Unlike their God, they are mortal, and thus flawed. Their vision crude, their memories stained by imperfect minds, means what they see requires wisdom to interpret correctly. These mortal advocates of the River can not see the Source, the start of all things, nor can they see the sea of infinity into which time flows. Many say they are the guardians of order that protect our world against the coming of the next Cataclysm. I know that for a lie. They are the servants of a cage that binds mortal free will and even I will never let them have me. - Attributed to the Wrack Witch before her execution circa 245 AC. Paying for the meal, we found the service to be efficient, though hardly welcoming. This didn''t detract from the food''s quality, which was outstanding, albeit somewhat lacking in flavor. Zariyah had warned me of its spiciness, but I found myself disagreeing. It seemed she had a more sensitive palate, as evidenced by her frequent sips of water to tame the dish''s supposed heat. After our meal, we cleansed our hands in bowls of lemon-scented water, and I offered my thanks to the server whose name I hadn''t taken the trouble to learn. It was not custom, but I left a few tattered bills as a tip, drawing a puzzled glance from Zariyah. As we made our way to the lair of the resident Alchemist, I could not help but notice the odd looks that were directed my way, likely a reaction to my disheveled appearance. However, these were merely fleeting, stolen glances, and none bore a hint of challenge. And rightly so, I thought to myself. A set of stairs, wide and carved from the local yellowstone, led to the basement. There was no handrail, but the steps were relatively shallow and the gradient gentle. Glowing purple Zajasite set at uniform intervals provided adequate, but not great, lighting. Intrepidly we descended. A man passed us, robed and cowled in crimson cloth. He made no greeting, and I offered none. A smell, familiar yet different, slowly crept upon us as we continued our descent. Unguents and preservatives, burned herbs, and long-hidden rot mixed into a strange melange that stole upon the senses. Zariyah wrinkled her nose signaling her discomfort. You know the best places to take a girl, she cried out with her fingers. The whiny complaint was writ clear in her discomfiture. ¡°Wait for me above, if this is unpleasant for you. I will try to conclude my business as quickly as possible,¡± was my considerate suggestion. By your leave, she replied formally, before scurrying back up. I continued my descent into the bowels of the Guild, the smell growing ever stronger. At one point I swore that my Health had even dropped a point, only soon to be regenerated. At the bottom of the stairs was a black wooden door banded with iron. For some reason, or another, I felt like there would be a significant encounter beyond that door. I needed to be prepared, as well prepared as I could be. I reached into my pack, rooting around until I found the cheaper Mana potions. I looked at the blue liquid for a moment, unstoppered the glass vial, and swigged down its contents. It tasted like purified and distilled water, liquid nothing, as it slipped down my throat. I grimaced as I drank it down, more at the potential waste of money than its flavor. Seconds later, starting in the pit of my stomach, a tingling sensation came over me, spreading. It felt as if all the pores of my body had opened and that something electric and unnatural was filling me. That I was sucking something in, strange and alien. This must be Mana. I was feeling Mana itself coming to me. I observed my Mana bar in the corner of my vision. Slowly it rose as I waited before the threshold, trepidation and caution stopping my entry. Wanting an excuse to waste time, I went briefly over my character sheet and Status.
Health: 418/434 Stamina: 66/75 Mana: 14/18
When my Mana had returned to over three-quarters, I could no longer make the excuse to myself that I was just being cautious. I knew fear for what it was. I could defeat it. With this thought, I placed both my hands on the door, felt the very grains of the dark stained wood, and pushed. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it The door opened inward and I was immediately greeted by a hammer blow upon my senses. The stench, an almost palpable thing, was pungent and thick. Just breathing it in felt as if my lungs were being clogged up. So distracted was I that I barely noticed the chimes that tinkled, signaling my arrival. The room I found myself in was exceptionally well-lit. The crystal Zajasite lights that hung from copper chains from the ceiling were almost as bright as any modern equivalent. Various specimens trapped in glass, animal and plant in origin, lined wooden shelves like alien soldiers on parade. ¡°Hello, Vincenzio?¡± I called out from the entrance. There was no reply. I took a cautious step into the room and called out again. This time there was a rustle of movement. A curtain parted at the end of the room, and a thin sallow cadaver of man walked into sight. His eyes were sunken hollows, his skin the waxy pale shade of a drowned corpse. Brown robes, splotched and stained in many places, hung about him a skeletal frame, just this side of the grave. I was so taken aback by his appearance that I could not help but cast an Identify on him to confirm if the thing in front of me was human.
Vincenzio Utnapishtim Barbierri - Necromancer (Human lvl.32)
Health: 272/272 Stamina: 24/24 Mana: 16/16
My recent encounters with the locals had led me to believe that I was perhaps a little over-levelled for this zone. However, looking at this I might be proven wrong, either that or Mr. Barbierri was a sort of secret hidden boss. In a voice, rasping and throaty, Vincenzio the Necromancer was the first to break the silence. ¡°Ha, it has been many years since one has felt the touch of Sage¡¯s Eye. You are too young to be in possession of such a magic,¡± he observed. I was rather shocked, for it was one of the first times my staple spell had been detected by one of the denizens of this world, I found myself hesitant in my response. His level was worrying, even if his attributes were not. How many had this man killed to reach such height? ¡°Gilgamesh,¡± I began, ¡°and you are Vincenzio Utnapishtim Barbierri the Alchemist, I presume?¡± He crossed his arms, his pale hands lost in the fabric of his robes. ¡°Very much so, young man, the very one. Though, one has not heard my family name in many long years, nor does one remember telling anyone in the Guild. Bravo, you even know the name my mother gave me, the legacy of her people. Your Sage¡¯s Eye must be powerful, and thorough, indeed to know of these things,¡± he replied with a dark smile, his eyes focused on a space behind my head. ¡°And what is your business with the last scion of a long-forgotten Qisnian house, young master Gilgamesh?¡± ¡°Beron¡¯s Vision. I have heard that there is a market for it and that you were a potential buyer,¡± I offered, waiting for the expected correction. It was always good to make sure the other side felt superior to you. ¡°Beron¡¯s Dream, is the common layman¡¯s term these days,¡± he corrected with a sniff. ¡°Isurru Sutu was its original name before it was ¡®discovered¡¯ by the insufferable Laney. Still, one doubts you would have any interest in that. I promise to pay well for it.¡± I reached into my bag, producing the sample for his inspection. Reverently he took it, unwrapping it from its leafy container and placing it onto a small silver platter. The lichen had lost some of its luster, but it still glowed a weak green. ¡°Fantastic, a relatively fresh specimen and decently preserved,¡± Vincenzio observed, taking out a looking glass with his index finger and thumb. He brought my proffered sample up towards his face for his closer inspection, held it up to the light and muttered in appreciation. ¡°You did well to wrap it in a leaf and keep it in the dark. Ignoramuses would just throw it in a glass flask and call it a day. Like you, young man, your work is surprising.¡± "What use does Beron¡¯s Dream have in alchemy?" I asked, curious. "The lichen can be used to make elixirs that heal the body. When combined with the rare root of Mandragora, it can even regrow limbs. Yes, a most valuable ingredient," he replied in a detached, almost mechanical tone. I tried to sound as casual as possible. ¡°Perhaps even an elixir of eternal youth?¡± He put down both glass and lichen and fixed on me with the dark hollows that served as his eyes. ¡°Three gold, twenty if you can tell this Alchemist where you found it,¡± was his flat statement, but underneath were the faint undertones of a very mortal greed. ¡°As for such an elixir, with suitable supportive compounds one could in theory make a potion to temporarily halt the aging process. However, regular doses would be required. A single potion to change one¡¯s bodily makeup is a different thing entirely.¡± Finally, some real progress in my quest. Acquiring more of the substance would be challenging, but certainly doable. As I was about to accept the Vincenzio¡¯s offer, a very rude and obnoxious notification flashed before my eyes, stopping my reply. A reminder that I was just playing a twisted game.
New Quest: Acquire the Breath of Unquiet Life scroll from the Necromancer.
A sly grin crossed my face. It seemed that the world was shaping itself to see to my needs. My wants. Very well then, game, I will play you. ¡°Your Manzaza Shiptu, the birth seed of the magic that has touched you. A scroll that imparts the new magic. For that, and not just the luster of gold, will I tell you where this lichen grows. Necromancer,¡± I replied. A pronouncement with the weight of an undeniable fate and destiny behind it. Book 3: The Accord [Part 1] Alchemy revolves around extracting and enhancing the natural properties of materials to achieve a specific outcome. This process is fundamentally powered by the alchemist''s own Mana, which dictates the final characteristics of the concoction. Materials with a stronger innate magic are more malleable and responsive in this process. However, the quality of the end product relies more on the Alchemist''s skill and belief in his process than on the materials themselves. Instead of relying on chants and rituals, alchemy uses precise recipes and measurements, though the essence of the practice with its use of Mana remains deeply rooted in spellcraft. The act of creating a magical potion is simply a spell construct in a liquid form. Therefore, hypothetically, a true master can achieve wonders, such as creating a healing potion from mere water, provided they possess sufficient talent, enormous Mana reserves, and an unwavering belief in their method. A highly unlikely proposition, as the whole art is steeped in esoteric nonsense. - A Study of Alchemics by Vincenzio Barbierri. In my arrogance, I had made a grave error in judgment. Whips of segmented bone flowed like liquid lightning from the Necromancer without warning, striking at me with fierce suddenness. The Mimic within formed a shield almost as swiftly, a thin barrier of false wood and iron against the storm. Where sharp white bone met flesh, a dull cold blossomed, eating away at my Health as they drew fresh blood. In response to the cold, a familiar emotion grew in the pit of my belly. Sparked twice already in a single day, it was not hard to stoke the remaining embers of anger into a new flame. In answer to that anger, the dark part of my magic begged¡­ no, demanded, for release. A release I willingly granted. Entropic Aura burst from me in a seething pulse, an echo of the final death knell. Ivory bone began to turn gray as the waves of raw entropy crashed against bone whips that slashed at me. Seven were their number, heads of a relentless hydra made of engraved bone. Mystic sigils flared briefly about the tendrils of bone, tiny motes of black eroding its arcane nature. What attacks that struck through my automatic guard now bruised instead of drawing blood. ¡°You must be quite powerful for a Visitor,¡± snarled Vincenzio the Necromancer. I took in his words as I stepped away, trying to get some distance as I drew the dagger at my waist. ¡°You are indeed powerful, but you will find one to be no easy prey,¡± he continued in a flat clinical tone, the barrage of bone tentacles on my person unceasing. Game theory dictated that the correct response to an attack was to initiate an overwhelming counter-attack of one¡¯s own. It was the only logical choice. However, my need to complete my new quest stayed my hand from following this obvious course. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. ¡°I have no quarrel with you,¡± I shouted as I dodged a snake-like length of bone. A crashing tinkle of glass soon followed as it smashed into a row of beakers, vials, and alembics behind me. Liquid spilled from them, and an acrid stench filled the room like rotten fruit plucked too late from the vine. This was definitely not how I expected a Necromancer to fight. But then again, outside of video games and fantasy, what did I know of Necromancers? ¡°But one has quarrel with you, feckless servant of the hated gods. The stench of their blessings is upon you. The reason for your coming can be no other than one¡¯s demise. One is not so feeble of mind to believe in coincidence,¡± he answered, blind hatred staining his words with passion, and twisting his expression. Another whip of segmented bone came down, as if in thunderous judgment. ¡°Do you know not of the hundreds that are caught up in the wake of your kind?¡± he spat as I barely dodged his attack. ¡°The suffering that you people bring to this world!?¡± "All of you lack free will, no more free than the pitiful zombies one mastered in youth. You''re merely another puppet in their grand, foolish game. Ignorance being, perhaps, your only defense. Exterminating your sort has ever been a most mundane and odious task. Like weeds in the garden, you sprout where you are not welcome. One will pluck you out, as one has ended the others." He began chanting in a flat, mechanical monotone, each syllable echoing softly. A glowing circle materialized, expanding into a series of concentric and intertwining rings. These rings spun slowly, with archaic and mystical symbols flashing and revolving around the center. A sickly green hue, the mystical spell construct, seemed to bleed unnatural magic. It was plain to see that if he finished whatever spell he was casting, my immediate future would not be a bright one. Greater Drain, my only offensive magical option, whispered seductively in my ear. Too long had it been, it whispered sibilant and sure. Still, I was hesitant to attack. There had to be another way. Even as I was weighing up my options, my shield blocked two more, almost simultaneous, blows of hard bone. My unnatural shield provided an impressive defense, but it was not perfect. Each successive blow against the Mimic shield chipped away at its Health. A few more blows snaked through its guard, bruising and cutting where they impacted against my flesh. The Necromancer''s voice surged, rising to a tumultuous clamor with echoes from beyond the veil of death. Oddly, I heard the faint tinkling of bells and shuddered as the air grew unnaturally cold and a chill crept over me. ¡°I am free. My freedom bought with agony and suffering. Damn the gods and their ilk! Who are you to judge me so? What do you know of me?¡± I declared in defiance, my cries almost feeling cathartic in their expression. A flicker of hesitation passed over his face, and in his corpse-wax features I saw something hinting at a burgeoning seed of doubt. His relentless assault halted, the whirling flails of sharpened bone freezing in place. "You dare to speak against the gods... Such defiance would be unthinkable for one in their power. Do you not fear the punishment of heaven?" He regarded me with a mix of suspicion and wonder, as if I had suddenly sprouted wings and horns. "Or is this a ruse? Yes, it must be a trick!" I felt I was close. This encounter, this story event, could be solved with something other than violence. Just a little more, one final push. Book 3: The Accord [Part 2] ¡°Vincenzo! I have offered you no harm, and have only defended myself. A Visitor you say, what is this? I fear there is a hidden meaning in such a word. I offer you this; I am not of this world, if that is your meaning, but I swear upon my mother¡¯s grave that I am no friend of the gods,¡± I confessed as sincerely as I could. My mother, to the best of my knowledge, was probably still very much alive but the lie came easily to my lips for the added dramatic effect. Stretched across a few agonizing seconds, silence reigned supreme here, in the lair of the Necromancer. However, it was soon shattered by the growing heavy thud of many boots descending the stairs. The bone growths disappeared, slinking back into the Necromancer¡¯s voluminous robes. Hastily, I sheathed my knife, my shield becoming a tangle of wormy threads, then disappearing into my arm. A good thing too, for a group of well-armed men burst into the basement room, scant seconds later. Armored in ensorcelled heavy plate and chain, they could have been mistaken for automata golems. With weapons drawn, they scanned the scene before them through the grills of their helmets. "What is the meaning of this?" demanded one of them, his voice deep and strong, yet somewhat muffled by his heavy helmet. His presence exuded a menace, like that of a faceless and uncaring machine. Vincenzio stood motionless, like a statue. "One was being assisted by a Copper in one of one¡¯s experiments, Ezlas. Unfortunately, an accident occurred," he replied slowly, his eyes not quite meeting those of his questioner. It seemed to me that his gaze was fixed on a point just beyond Ezlas'' head. "And if I were to go upstairs to verify, would I find that such a request was indeed made? That your experiment has received the necessary approval?" Ezlas''s voice rose sharply in alarm, his tone verging on the edge of irritation. ¡°One has never been one to just go along with accepted societal norms,¡± The Necromancer shrugged nonchalantly, a gesture that seemed out of place with my image of him. He let out a raspy sigh and shook his head, subtly dismissing the question. The armored man approached Vincenzio with heavy, metal-clad steps, towering over him. Yet, despite his imposing stature, he did not seem to overshadow the Necromancer. Removing his great helm and tucking it under his arm, he revealed his features. Beneath, a padded mail coif struggled to contain the curls that peeked out from its edges. Yet, it was his face that was of note, dispelling much of the dread and mystery. With homely, rounded features, he resembled perhaps a benign village baker. A face far from menacing, but strikingly ordinary and harmless. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "You intellectuals all think alike, believing you''re governed by a different set of rules. No respect for the established order. You''re supposed to make your requests through official channels, without trying to bypass the Guild. Am I making myself clear?" he insisted, his deep voice sounding much clearer now. Watching the scene unfold, I realized what Vincenzio was doing. He was masking a greater sin with a lesser one. It was an impressive performance, worthy of a prize. Had I not known better, I would have believed him as well. Suddenly and without warning, the armored man Ezlas turned, the full force of his gaze bearing down upon me. I had to stopper a grin, suppressing it deep within. The whole situation bordered on the comical and absurd. Still obviously irked, he demanded, almost hissing, ¡°Your name¡­¡± he paused for a moment as if unsure. ¡°Copper ranker? I have not seen your face before.¡± Before I could give an answer, a wave of entropy brushed against the armored brute, causing runes on his armor to flare in warning before dying down. ¡°And this? What is the meaning of this, pray tell?¡± he asked sarcastically, turning to the Necromancer. He had found his spoor again. ¡°As one has said, a minor accident has occurred. One would advise you and your men leave us, for one can not guarantee their safety, should you choose to interfere more. Rest assured, one will see to dealing with any lingering magical effects in good time,¡± he stated calmly, shooting me a look, heavy with meaning. ¡°And what exactly were you working on?¡± he continued stubbornly. A hint of worry threaded his voice as he cast glances at various points across the room. The dark master of magic looked at Ezlas with reserved contempt. ¡°A magister¡¯s secret is his own, one is under no obligation to tell you the steps of one¡¯s path. You know full well that one has been given a broad remit to do as one likes here. One dares add, it is thanks to one¡¯s research that many of your brothers and sisters have been saved from crossing the River too soon,¡± Vincenzio replied haughtily. With a mocking smile, Ezlas raised a hand, commanding his men to begin a search. Initially undaunted by Vincenzio¡¯s warning, the group spread out to investigate. However, mere meters in, they entered my Entropic Aura and, much like what had happened with Ezlas, the arcane sigils on their armor flared. Alarmed by this unexpected reaction, they stopped in their tracks muttering with one another. Annoyed, their leader ordered them back and they quickly retreated to the entrance, wisely opting not to venture further into the Necromancer''s den. With an almost foolish slowness, I pulled the energy of my Entropic Aura inward, ending the spell and feeling an odd hollow feeling of regret. Why hadn''t I done this sooner? It struck me then. Casting the spell had become as natural, a reflexive action barely noticed. Like drawing breath, maintaining it, doubly so. Just as I was wrestling with this dread proposition, a notification flashed across my sight distracting me.
You have learned Entropic Aura (lvl.4)
Book 3: The Accord [Part 3] ¡°Little Vince, you will write a report and submit it before the day¡¯s end. Be sure to clear this mess up, this place stinks enough as it is,¡± he almost spat in response. An admission of defeat. I pushed aside the last notification as he looked at me, almost as if imploring me to add something else. Vincenzio gave them all a stiff formal bow, a hair¡¯s breadth away from what would be considered to be polite. It was as good as an order of dismissal. Ezlas of the Guild shot us both one last suspicious look before he left, clanking back up the stairs with his men. Vincenzio and I remained in almost contemplative silence until we heard the final echo of their departure. Without realizing it, I had held my breath in the grip of tension, and only upon their departure did I let it go. It felt as if a heavy destiny or fate was balancing on the edge, teetering between one path and another. This day had been eventful indeed, a day that was still not over. The Necromancer drew himself up proudly to his full height. ¡°You know that one is a practitioner of the forbidden, and not just a simple purveyor of potions. You could have told them of one¡¯s secret there and then, one would have done so in your place. Tell me why you chose otherwise,¡± he insisted. It made sense, at least, that playing about with the dead was taboo. I paused, closing my eyes for a moment before replying, "That would not serve my purpose." "Your purpose?" he said hollowly. "Perhaps the purpose of all men who have tasted the first fruit. What the gods call sin, but men such as us call enlightenment and knowledge. You asked me earlier if I feared the punishment of the heavens. No, I do not, because I am to become that very punishment upon the heavens," I declared, my words fueled by a heated, seething passion. A sense of divine purpose vibrated within me, infusing my heart with correct meaning and direction. All was right with the universe. "To achieve this, I am on a quest for knowledge. For knowledge is power, and it is with this power that I intend to tear down the heavens themselves," I stated loftily, my words ringing as if they were fresh-forged gospel. Wryly, I smiled at the sallow man. ¡°And I would have you know that I am considered somewhat of a scholar in my homeland. I feel that there is much we can learn from one another.¡± The words held an echo of repetition for me. ¡°Arrogance and such hubris, though one can not say that one is not guilty of the same sin. Your lofty goals and weak attempts at poetic verse and philosophizing aside, why would one do so?¡± You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°Is not the purpose of knowledge to be spread for the betterment of all?¡± was my musing response. ¡°Please spare me rote aphorisms and platitudes¡­ let us speak plain.¡± I smiled, feeling more confident. I was close, I could almost smell it. He had gone from enemies to somewhat cooperative. How quickly things could change. With an internal shrug, I also registered that I had recently grown a rather devil-may-care attitude that surprised even me. ¡°Yes, indeed. Lets. Have I not proven to not be your enemy? I seek a bargain with you. Knowledge for knowledge. And, I am in the belief that the scales at the moment are ever so slightly weighted in my favor. I am in the belief that we are not so different, you and I. Still, I would have you tell me why you call me a Visitor. I believe there is more meaning behind such a word,¡± I offered with aplomb. He looked at me in the way one would look at a roach that suddenly learned speech. Disgust and interest in equal measure.¡°Such florid speech for a Visitor. Like a child with a new toy, you play with language thus. Strangers, not of this world, that wear the flesh of men like one wears clothes. Bound to the will of the gods, they bring only torment and suffering to this world, ¡±. ¡°Forgive me then. It is how I spoke in my own world. But then again, it is said that one thinks and acts differently in any given language. Bound to the will of the gods you say, that sounds like a very tragic fate indeed,¡± was my response, in all seriousness. His expression remained the same as he offered a new comment, ¡°And a Visitor you are. You have that look and feel about you. But, unlike the others, there is something different.¡± ¡°You would make a young maiden blush with such words. Different you say? You have encountered others?¡± I answered, attempting to lighten the mood. ¡°Your attempts at weak humor are not necessary. Indeed, encountered and ended, one has offered more than a few Visitors swift passage across the Shallow River,¡± was the pale man¡¯s boorish response. By his negative reaction, I must have failed an invisible check against my Charisma of sorts. Oh well, it was my lowest attribute so it was to be expected. More seriously now I asked him, ¡°Why? For what ends?¡± ¡°By what obligation does one have to explain my reasons to a stranger?¡± he rasped. The man was like a woman. Hot and cold, my patience was being worn away slowly but surely. ¡°Are we not to speak plainly? I am indeed, as you say, a stranger, but one you know you can trust. Perhaps a Visitor as you call it. As another offering of trust, I will tell you of myself. I am from a different world, a world called the Earth.¡± ¡°A rather bland name for a world. Too bland to be anything but the truth. Then, yes you are a Visitor. A being summoned from another world for the Divines¡¯ inscrutable purpose. But not you. You are not, or it seems, the common sort of Visitor. What is different about you is that you seem to be in full command of your faculties. No thrall are you, and one would be able to detect the heavy mark of their yoke upon you. Perhaps, it is as you say, that you are free?¡± There was a hint of something else in his voice. Was that eagerness? ¡°A moment,¡± he ordered, a tentacle of bone flowing out of his robes to grasp an old tome from a shelf. The appendage plopped the hidebound text on a research counter in a small explosion of dust. ¡°One must not let hope undo caution. This is a holy text of Kaes-Loka, the god of hearth and herd of the steppe savages. Read from it and make a mock of it.¡± Book 3: The Accord [Part 4] I frowned, his meaning escaping me for a moment. ¡°You wish for me to read a little from this text, and ridicule it? Just to make sure, of course,¡± I said, caught off-guard. ¡°Has one not stated it as such?¡± he replied flatly, nodding at the old text. ¡°Go on.¡± ¡°Very well, then,¡± I acceded. It was a small thing to humor the man. Little did I know that it would be the first request of many. He produced many more texts of various gods, making me mock their names and ridicule the wisdom upon the pages. Religion in this world, as it was in mine, was an institution built upon silly lies draped in the garment of fairy tales. However, enough was enough. After going through a veritable pantheon of gods, I decided that I had only endured enough. I had only put up with this as much as I had because I wanted answers. ¡°What more would you have me do? How many other gods must I curse?¡± I asked in a strained voice. ¡°What more must I prove?¡± The sallow and pale man rubbed his chin in thought. He bent down to rummage through a battered chest in the corner of the room. It creaked with the squeal that set my teeth on edge. After a few moments, his questing hand emerged, clutching a rough stone. Cracks ran across it and it held a sick and weak glow of stained yellow. ¡°Place your hand on this, it is a Binding Stone. Blessed Zajasite. Similar to what the Guild uses. Swear upon that you will not speak of our conversations,¡± he offered, holding out the stone in front of him. Shrugging and wanting to get this over with, I quickly took the stone¡­ no, snatched it really, in haste. ¡°I do swear to keep the confidence of Vincenzio Barbierri. Good enough?¡± I declared. There was a quiet pause, pregnant with the heavy air portent. Vincenzio looked as if he was shouting something at me, but he seemed so distant as if he was speaking through several panes of glass. Suddenly there was a shift, and a sense of vertigo overcame me. I felt as if I was lying down instead of standing. I could see nothing save for an inky blackness. Was I blind? In panic, I drew a heavy breath. There was something around my mouth, a pressure like a mask. Distantly I heard odd beeping noises and rhythmic mechanical hissing that grew and lessened in cycles. Then a cracking sound, like ice breaking under a heavy foot. Disorientated, I was standing again. More importantly, I was free from the claustrophobic dark. I could see once again, and before me was Vincenzio, looking to be muttering and nodding to himself. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Incredulously, I took an involuntary step back. Yellow sand was sifting lazily through my fingers. Sound slowly returned as I came back to the here and now. Disorientated, I could only croak stupidly, ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°One does believe you are responsible for breaking an almost priceless artifact,¡± he replied, pointing with a bony digit at the last of the sand falling from my fingers. ¡°What the¡­ that was no fault of mine,¡± I stated in immediate denial. The man looked at me as if I represented a profound quandary. ¡°Indeed, perhaps it is so. It seems, within you, you possess the innate ability to defy the goddess of the twin blades herself. That was, as one stated before, a Binding Stone. It places a geas of sorts on a person who gives an oath freely. It seems that you are free of even divine constraints. Both a worrying and hopeful prospect,¡± he stated calmly. ¡°It gives weight to your claim of being free from divine meddling.¡± ¡°Then do we have an accord?¡± ¡°And compensation for the Stone? ¡°That was no fault of mine. The fault lies with you.¡± ¡°One had to try. Indeed it does, one grants you that. A small price to pay. Yes, we have an accord. For the Isurru Sutu, one means Beron¡¯s Dream, and other things. Consider this a downpayment of sorts,¡± he acceded, producing some dog-eared and well-worn notes from within his robes. ¡°Your scroll?¡± The man almost seemed to bristle. ¡°We will discuss that another time. A magister¡¯s Manzaza is a personal thing. A heavy matter. Unclouded by recent events and emotion, one must think and reflect for a time.¡± ¡°Very well then¡­ another time. But when exactly?¡± was my reluctant reply. I wanted more information. And sooner, rather than later. ¡°Word will be sent in good time. Where can one find you?¡± I pursed my lips, before giving my answer, ¡°The Begonia¡¯s Shade. Do you know of it?¡± ¡°Yes, one knows of it. We will speak soon and one will send for you. Now, it is best that you be off now. Ezlas will likely return with his lackeys soon. It''s best if he finds only the straightforward truth that his simple mind can grasp," he explained. After a brief pause, the odd man offered me a suggestion in an almost conspiratorial tone, "It would be wise for you to continue playing the part of a humble adventurer. One will post some requests for some¡­ some odds and ends. It''ll provide us with a bit of cover for any future meetings." I nodded in agreement. ¡°So be it. Stay true to your word, and I will stay true to mine, Vincenzio.¡± Book 3: Jealousy [Part 1] The thorn in one¡¯s foot is of greater concern than the knife in another¡¯s guts. - A Quassian Aphorism.
You have gained 1 Luck.
Such simple words, bound with so much meaning. It was a hint, as strong as any, that I was on the right path. The universe itself was bending over backwards for me. Or a sign that I had avoided a most unfortunate outcome. Regardless, my outlook remained optimistic. I''ve always been the type to see the glass as half full. Bounding up the stairs, sometimes two or three at a time, I was on the verge of whistling, my spirits high. Despite the unsettling and bewildering moment experienced upon touching the stone, I was, on the whole, quite pleased with myself. The game seemed to have presented me with what appeared to be a chain quest. Should I manage to see it through, the rewards promised to be significant. Already quite monetarily rewarding, I realized, thinking on the few valuable notes I received.. In a rather tangential, yet valuable, learning experience, the Necromancer''s impromptu experiment with various holy books had shed some light on the lore of this world. In particular, I had learned something about the various gods and divine beings who vied against one another. It proved to be quite enlightening, albeit a touch perilous at the outset. The whips of bone had been intimidating, though, I believe they served more of a distraction while the Necromancer prepared a more damaging spell. I would have to learn more tact in dealing with him in the future. Fortune, the fickle whore of gamblers, was favoring me. Climbing back to the ground floor, I scanned the area for a familiar face. A sudden tap on my shoulder caused me to whirl around in surprise. It was Zariyah, her expression a blend of mild concern and playfulness. I saw a veritable armory descending the stairs and feared you might have kicked over another hornet''s nest, she chided, her brows knitting together in an endearingly worrisome way. ¡°Worry not, all is well,¡± I assured her with a grin, only causing her to look even more concerned. In truth, I wanted to lift her up and spin her around in joy. Only my reserve and society¡¯s expectations stopped me. It could, however, not stop the stupid smile that was spreading wider across my face. ¡°Hey, lady¡­ who¡¯s that?¡± interrupted a voice followed by some raucous cheers. The smile froze on my face, and my few moments of joy shattered like brittle glass. A group of typical adventurers, looking as if they had stepped off the pages of a poorly written fantasy novel, sat drinking around a table. Raising cups, mugs, and tankards in raucous joy, they were singing some awful-sounding ditty. A grimace stole over me, as a red-haired female of their group drunk from a helm, with a spastic grin on her face. I would have found the scene amusing were it not for weapons at their belts, or the ones leaning against the table. They would not take no for an answer, she shot at me guiltily. Was there a hint of a smile on her lips? Of course, there was. Seconds later, she had rejoined this rag-tag group, all bright-eyed and in good cheer. I had come from a struggle, my life hanging in the balance, as I defied the gods. Now I returned, only to find the person who was supposed to be waiting for me was instead partying with a bunch of lugger louts. ¡°Come over and finish your drink! But you don¡¯t have to bring your friend!¡± a handsome blonde man with chiseled clean-cut features shouted out in our direction. ¡°Just joking and yanking your chain! You can drink with us, but buy your own! You got to be a troublemaker like to have old Ezlas after you so soon! An¡¯ let me tell you all of that time when I fought a Watcher, single-handed and the like,¡± he exclaimed, slapping on the table with good cheer, ignoring the chorus of forced groans from his friends. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Lay orf with that worn tale, Guy!¡± a dwarf grumbled good-naturedly with no real malice. Jealousy danced with my natural aversion for the likes of Guy. People were drawn naturally to types like those. Like butterflies to beautiful flowers. The perfect ones. The lucky ones. Put on a pedestal by those who sought to worship them and, high on their own popularity, they soon learn to get exactly what they want. Every now and again they would dole out a kind word or a small deed, and, like Mana from heaven, people licked it up. Men, and women, like Guy, reveled in the natural order of society that bent itself to serve their whims. Insufferable. Was I overthinking things? Guy reached for Zariyah, grabbing her. She put up only a token of resistance as he laughed and deposited her on his lap. Hate, that irrational and constant friend, flared hot and high. ¡°We were just leaving,¡± I delivered flatly through gritted teeth. ¡°Come now¡­ you are in the company of friends! We could all meet our end tomorrow. Best to live it now!¡± wheedled Guy, catching my eye in challenge as he bounced Zariyah on his lap. The girl coyly covered her mouth, stifling a silent giggle. The man knew exactly what he was doing. If it was not one thing, it was another. ¡°You know better than be a causing trouble again. Your silliness has been costing us our proper place up the ranks¡­ stuck on Bronze for far too long because of the likes of you. Leave things be an¡¯ let her go, you moon-kissed loon,¡± warned the dwarf grumbling. Thank you master dwarf, I whispered to myself. Thank you. I took the time to look over the group, trying to ingrain their features upon my memory. The temptation to use Identify was there, but I was still leery of it since my encounter with the Necromancer. It would do me well also to keep in mind that not all conflict should be solved with the simplest of methods, though tempting it was. I weighed my options. A group of five, the first was the current object of my ire, the blonde man, Guy, in a heavy coat of chain. The redhead was wearing civilian clothing, a tight yellow-stained blouse, and a pair of garish loose blue trousers. Her clothes were stained, recently doused in fresh drink, and I could see the wet cloth clinging to a rather muscular frame. If I was in a generous mood I could have admitted she was vaguely attractive. The dwarf was black of hair, a long braided beard trailing down past his portly waist. His demeanor, typical of his race, added a certain gravity to his presence. Even garbed in thick gray robes, I still noticed the telltale hints of armor underneath. The remaining three were enigmatic, their features so common it was challenging to remember them. Perhaps siblings, they shared the same dull brown hair, dull brown eyes, and average nondescript features. I found it hard to commit them to memory. Like the sotted redhead, they were in civilian attire, garbed in dull reds with the loose clothes of the local cut. ¡°Perhaps the lady wants to stay a bit longer?¡± ventured Guy, as he downed some more of his drink with his free hand. ¡°And perhaps you would like to make an enemy of a Magister of the Guild,¡± I tried to say, coolly, of course. Before he could splutter a response, the trio decided to add their opinions on the matter. ¡°We saw¡­¡± one of them started. ¡°¡­him go down,¡± continued another. ¡°Ezlas not soon after¡­¡± said the last one. ¡°A stormcloud of anger is Ezlas. Scary man,¡± the first again commented. ¡°Old man Ezlas was thunder,¡± added the second one. ¡°This one is not afraid. We think he is a friend of the dark one. Do not press. Do not,¡± they begged together, at last, their voices in disturbing harmony. Though their speech was annoying and disjointed, I still couldn¡¯t help but sneer as they made my case for me. ¡°Oh Aye, let it be, Guy. I¡¯ll treat ya lad later for a tumble and turn at the best house in the Flower Quarter. S¡¯not worth it mate,¡± rumbled the companion dwarf in warning. ¡°That is rather an insult to the lady, comparing her lovely company to a common whore. We have just met, but I certainly must say I feel a certain something for this one. The eyes are of an enchanting shade,¡± he drawled, tracing a line down her inner thigh. As his fingers sought their destination, she met my gaze with a challenging look that was most irksome. A provocative, coy smile then played across her lips, acting like a matador''s flag taunting a bull. It was clear. She was goading me, daring me to react. The woman was enjoying this. Making eye contact with me, he pantomimed a whisper loud enough for all to hear, ¡°Like the taste of something forbidden. This one doesn¡¯t make a sound. Sets the imagination on fire.¡± Faux shock played with girlish shyness on Zariyah¡¯s features. ¡°Bit of a challenge to make this one scream. I can see why some develop a taste for the crimson sluts,¡± Guy guffawed, showing some of his true colors. The girl visibly stiffened in real shock. She had not expected this. Zariyah overplayed her hand, I noted to myself with a small sense of satisfaction. My face colored with held-back rage. Despite the clear childishness on her part, he had said too much. Too much. Provocation or not, it had been a long time since I felt anger for someone other than myself. Book 3: Jealousy [Part 2] My vision narrowed to just encompass Guy, and Zariyah was feebly struggling to escape his grasp. I could feel myself preparing for a fight. Anger rose in a flood. It was too late, the dam would burst. But I was saved. ¡°Stop messing around like children in the yard,¡± commanded someone from behind me. A voice that cut through the hubbub. A voice I knew. I turned around slowly, taking in the presence of my savior. It was the intimidating Ezlas, with a jovial smile on his face that was at odds with the fearsome garb of his profession. In the presence of greater power, Guy visibly shrank, pushing away Zariyah as if she were made of hot coals. ¡°Just a bit of fun Ezlas, no need for any¡­¡± he started in explanation, the waver in his voice betraying his cowardice. Zariyah¡¯s desultory glare at Guy was confirmation enough for Ezlas. How many victims, I wondered, had fallen prey to Guy¡¯s ¡®little bit of fun.¡¯ That was the problem with coming to a world, place, or time, as socially and culturally backward as this one. I offered Ezlas a quick spoken thanks, focusing more on my formal bow, palms pressed to the back of my head. He accepted it with a small professional nod, before walking off to whatever it was that he needed to do. Despite all of this, a part of me could not help but feel that I had been betrayed in some manner or another. A sneaking shard of negativity that wormed its way through the emotional cracks as I thought about it more. Guy was muttering in his cup, his attention now focused on the Ezlas¡¯ retreating form. I took Zariyah by the hand, escorting her out of the Guild and into the still-bright afternoon sun. The heat was almost palpable, the shimmering air above the hot stones of the courtyard evidence of the fact. The red-eyed girl shot me a dirty glance, realizing our hands were still clasped. Without thinking, I offered an apology. I thought I asked you not to touch me like that in public, I''ve tolerated unwanted advances for too long, she stated clearly with her hands before crossing her arms. I sighed inwardly, seeing where this was headed as I studied her stance and expression. Even at my young age, I understood enough about women to recognize the signs. The girl was gearing up for a verbal skirmish. Preparing myself, I decided that a preemptive approach was the best strategy for handling the situation. Still, pathetic as it was, I was hurt. Her words, silent though they were, rung loud enough to cut through to the truth of the matter. I remembered her initial hidden smile with Guy, the way she had looked at him. The spark of simple attraction. I had been blind until I had been presented with a comparison. It was a rejection of me, just another thing I had to cope with. Another raw deal. More than that, she had thought to use me for whatever fickle reason she had. For fun, if anything else, was my best guess. ¡°Thank you for today. I can make my own way back,¡± I said frostily. It did me no good to be led around the nose by a woman. One needed detachment. Is that so? You would have an unmarried woman walk home unescorted, she told me, her hands indignant in their motion. ¡°It is a new age for personal liberty and the accountability that comes with it,¡± I snorted. The words felt hollow even as they left my mouth, nothing more than broken wind. You are trying to punish me, then. So be it, her hands stated as she sniffed at me. Turning her back to me, she unfurled her new parasol and crossed the courtyard. A part of me almost expected her to throw the gift in my face. But, she was thicker-skinned than I gave her credit for, I realized as I watched her make her escape from me. ***** I wandered aimlessly, my feet moving with the flow of the street traffic as I delved into memories of the past. Unlike positive ones, negative memories had a way of resurfacing and consuming us. It was as if humans had a masochistic tendency to dwell on their own pain, like picking at a scab, unable to resist revisiting moments of turmoil and sorrow, again and again. And, I was no different, it seemed. Still human, the emotional core of me, at least. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. It was late afternoon and the sun was losing its battle against the creeping encroachment of the evening. The usual bustle of the city had quieted down, leaving the air feeling stale and listless. The scents of incense and spice, once almost omnipresent, had vanished, leaving behind only the pervasive stench of densely packed humanity. The architecture here bore the marks of neglect, a stark contrast to the more affluent areas. Buildings, dilapidated and worn, showed the scars of time and misuse. I saw a once grand structure, now spoiled with graffiti scrawled across its grimy walls. An industrious vandal had even climbed up to deface the friezes'' carved faces. To make matters worse, an old beggar had chosen the building''s side to relieve himself. This quarter of Al-Lazar lay steeped in poverty, a sharp departure from the city''s general opulence. Despite being far from where I believed I should be, a curious, almost voyeuristic impulse drove me to explore deeper. For reasons I could not quite articulate, there was a sense of safety here, as if, in a twisted way, this place felt more genuine to me than anything else in this fantastical realm. Witnessing humanity at its lowest somehow lent this place an air of authenticity. As I ventured further, the scene grew more dismal. The people here were destitute, devoid of hope, resembling walking corpses with lifeless eyes, lacking even the will to beg. From descriptions I had heard, they were, for the most part, Dust addicts. Their eyes were hollow and lost to an old dream. I had expected violence in this rougher part of town, but two desperate-looking thugs saw the dried blood on my clothes, the blade at my waist, and thought better of it. Two feral dogs snarled and tussled over what I initially mistook for rotten meat, only to discover it was a human limb. Grim realization hit me hard. This quarter must serve as the city''s dumping ground for human refuse. The invisible and unwanted of society. Then why did I continue to stay? Why did I choose to explore further of my own volition? Was it because I wanted to believe? Surely this place, no matter how authentic in its depiction, was ultimately a facade. Reality lay elsewhere. "Please, sir," a high-pitched voice interrupted from behind, breaking me away from these depressive thoughts. I started to turn, pausing for a moment as an inexplicable hesitation seized me. It was as though I stood at destiny''s crossroads, with the sense that my impending decision would significantly shape the unfolding narrative. The moment carried the unmistakable aura of a pivotal, perhaps scripted, event. The owner of the voice was a small grubby child, dangerously thin. Her hair cascaded in loose tangles of dull gold without luster, framing a visage marked by the rigors of want. Clad in the merest of rags, her form seemed more a wraith than that of a child''s, a specter of deprivation. "Good mister ser, a trifle for my mother, ill and in dire need," implored the waif, her voice a whisper, but sounding as if a cacophony. Ignore her, a voice, one of many within, warned. At worst, this is a lie, a trap, if nothing else. At best her mother is a Dust addict who deserves her fate. A harsh sentence, indeed, yet within her counsel lay a kernel of wisdom, bitter though it was. I looked once again at the child. Truly seeing her. Her eyes, deep pools of liquid brown, held the weight of a life unkind. In the depth of their hollow gaze, I saw an honest entreaty. ¡°This day has been long and you entreat powers beyond your comprehension, little girl. What led you to me? I am the end of oblivion itself,¡± I answered in a hollow voice that was not quite mine. ''You alright? You sure talk funny, mister ser. So, you can help, right?'' she persisted, extending her hand towards me. Here, in the heart of urban misery, I found no compelling reason to aid her. Absolutely none. Despite having grown in power, the motivations that spurred me on seemed shallow, the kind that only a naive youth might harbor. Was it to impress someone? To overpower obstacles? To prove a point? Saving her mother might seem inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Yet, considering life''s inherent meaninglessness, succumbing to nihilism was not the solution. Could not be the solution. True power was not just the ability to vanquish foes but also the grace to save. To spare and shelter those whom I chose. Ultimately, it represented the freedom to make choices. Even in a world that might be nothing more than an intricate digital illusion, the decisions I made still shaped me. My thoughts shaded everything. What I chose to do colored my path. With this conclusion, I felt something change, like the click of a lock falling into place or the first turning of the hand of a once broken clock. ¡°You have my attention. Take me to this mother of yours. My hand shall save,¡± I declared with bold confidence. The beggar girl could only look at me with total surprise, her eyes widening to a ridiculous degree with newfound hope. ¡°First though, what is your name child? And be quick about it. I do not have all day,¡± I requested, lowering myself to one knee to her level. ¡°Theo,¡± she responded nervously. Uncertainty laced in her voice and her eyes grew big as teacups. ¡°Very well, Theo,¡± I said in all seriousness as I took her small, grubby hand in mine. Her eyes managed to widen even further, her mouth shaping into a perfect ''O'' of surprise. Book 3: Mercy [Part 1] The closing pages of a courtesan¡¯s are that of a withering flower. Beautiful color and fragrance are forever soon lost, with nobody caring to spare the once subtle bloom a second glance. For youth flies as fast as the fleeting clouds, and fortune passes without lingering. - Verses from the Flower Quarter by Unknown. Together, the little girl and I ventured into what seemed like a labyrinthine warren, populated by a neglected segment of humanity. The buildings and streets we navigated resembled the decaying ruins of a fallen civilization rather than a part of the city where people lived. Along the way, we encountered many suffering the harsh vicissitudes of human existence. Some were blind or missing limbs, others visibly ill, and many appeared to be dead or dying. Those who were relatively hale and whole of body, like Theo, looked haunted. They carried in their eyes a weight of suffering that made me feel guilty just looking at them. I questioned why anyone would choose to be here. However, as I thought upon the manner, and ignored a few more entreaties for help, I realized that it was a foolish question. Choice had little to do with their current predicament. Rather, it was the harsh hand of fortune and circumstance that had corralled them into this forgotten corner of the city. As I waded up to my knees in the mire of these depressive thoughts, I sensed a shift in the atmosphere of the place. Were this a forest, the sudden silence of birds and insects would have signaled the presence of a predator. I felt that same primal warning here, a sense of danger in the air. Then came a muffled cry from some distant alley. This was quickly stifled, but soon followed by another. I paused, the hackles on my neck rising as another scream came, this time closer, then another. It had the feeling of a bitter harvest, and each cry sent a shiver down my spine. Something was approaching. Where were the cries of alarm? Were the people here so meek that they would just accept their fate? The streets were full of debris, human and otherwise. One could not travel them at such speeds unless¡­ A thought intruded upon me, prey hardly looked upward. I searched around, scanning upwards for the source of my disquiet. A tile fell from a nearby rooftop, smashing into fragments on the street. A heartbeat later, a slender figure, clad in funereal black leaped from what must have been three stories. Masked, long hair tied in a braid whipped behind this new mystery like a snake as it landed in front of me with almost inhuman grace. Damnit, another fight, I thought to myself as the figure leaped at me, in attack. No, not at me, I realized. It was little Theo who was in danger. The dastardly thing was targeting the weakest first. Instinctively, I positioned myself between her and the threat. The mysterious attacker¡¯s fists, encased in spiked gauntlets, hurtled toward me with sudden velocity. Reflexively, a web of worm-like threads knitted together to form my Mimic shield, my primary defense. The Mimic intercepted a heavy punch, but that was not without cost. Bits of the Mimic¡¯s false wood and metal exterior were sheared off by the blow and its Health dropped significantly. What''s more, these fragments soon melted into a grayish goo. Stone sizzled and hissed where this matter met the stone of the pavement. A few drops found themselves on my opponent''s upper arm, melting black cloth to reveal a fine dark silver mesh beneath. Suddenly, with my shield obstructing my view, I lost sight of my assailant and found myself swept off my feet, crashing to the hard stone ground. She had taken my legs from under me with a sweeping blow and was even now spinning into the combination''s next move. Reflex, or perhaps the Dodge skill, made me immediately roll to my left as a heel came crashing down that would have smashed my skull. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. By some miracle, I was able to rise lightly to my feet in the same motion. My attacker had the air of someone who was performing a necessary, but unwelcome, task. No battle cry or challenge came forth. The blows kept on coming, but there was no anger or emotion behind the strikes. He, or she, just seemed to be, almost playing with me. Drawing the dagger at my side, I tried to weave in a few attacks of my own, but my small blade found only air. With the fluid movements, my attacker dodged the sharp edge of my weapon and delivered a rising kick that snapped my head back, jarring my brain. She flipped away, leaving me staggering as my vision blurred momentarily. ¡°You should be dead,¡± remarked my attacker in a flat feminine voice. A woman then. Of course, it would be. I would be taking no joy in this. I wiped some blood off my chin, grinning to myself as I felt the wound already starting to slowly close. ¡°It speaks,¡± I spat back. That last attack, in truth, had been dangerous, taking off about forty points of my Health. Unluckily for her, my Health was already slowly recovering and my Mana was basically full. Stamina, too, was also just over three-quarters. If this became a battle of attrition, my victory would be all but certain. I had a feeling that this represented something deeper, but I had to deal with the here and now. To add to my problems, my Mimic¡¯s Health had been worn down to just a little over half. All the while, Theo looked on, stock still, gobsmacked and helpless at our exchange. I was tempted to warn her to run, but that would make finding her later difficult. Another chore I did not need. It was time to stack the deck in my favor. She must have noticed something different about me and I could not help but to let a smirk make its way across my face. I called Entropic Aura to me and the magic flared to life with a great pulse. Waves of it emanated off me and I could feel the dark echo that was the mark of my magic. Caution now colored the mysterious figure''s stance. Rust, too, heeded my call, the sibilant spell forming itself before I sent it out at the masked woman. Almost simultaneously with the spell''s completion, she lunged at me again. The silver on the exposed part of her arm momentarily glimmered as vines of black lightning from the spell attempted to corrode the metal. Even emboldened by my Entropic Aura, the spell could find no soil to take root. Utterly confounded by this failure, I was left with no choice but to endure the subsequent barrage of blows that steadily depleted my Health. As the spell withered and faded away, my surprise and dismay impaired my responses. I had been certain the spell would have sealed her doom. A heavy blow landed, an open palm strike of all things, that smashed against my sternum and caused my heart to skip a beat. Tasting the copper-iron of blood, a system message obnoxiously popped up, which I soon dismissed, as my Health dropped even further. Almost as if in response, my Mimic shield smashed itself against her side, causing her to let out a grunt of pain. Still disoriented, I employed Dash and managed to put some distance between us. A part of me seethed at the realization that I was being bested in close combat. My opponent was swift, significantly faster than me, even without the encumbrance of my armor. My mind raced. Unlike the others I had encountered up to this point, she posed a genuine threat. Then, something whizzed past me, twin slivers of metal going in the general direction of the woman. However, I heard only the sound of metal scraping and careening off stone. Was I saved? Or did I face yet another foe? Distracted, I looked to find the source of the flying metal but found only an empty alley behind me. When I turned around again, ready to re-engage, my mysterious enemy had disappeared. Where had my attacker, or attackers, gone? I continued scanning around as I cast Heal on myself, cursing the seconds it took to complete as I ignored its holy song of purity. With My health more or less restored, I searched for her, launching a few Identifies in random directions, but only received useless explanations for buildings and old rubbish. Cursing to myself, I gathered up an unresisting Theo and quickly left. Book 3: Mercy [Part 2] We ran for a few minutes before continuing at a controlled ambling pace. To go at a run in a place such as this would be inviting trouble. Predators had a habit of being drawn to running prey and it would draw attention to us. Though the encounter with the hateful woman had yielded few gains in experience, I had received a point in Constitution for surviving what probably were two near-fatal blows. Who would have known? Perhaps I had made a mistake in focusing on just being able to absorb damage. All it meant was that I would just die slower, I thought bitterly. I resolved to invest some points in some of the more offensive attributes on my next level up. Eventually, we reached what a somewhat shaken Theo referred to as home. It was a makeshift structure, cobbled together from random pieces of wood and assorted debris, barely resembling a lean-to shack. ¡°So¡­ thanks for earlier mister ser. For saving me! That was a fight like the stories!¡± the small girl piped. She continued to blabber on for a bit in incredulous thanks, but I simply nodded in return. I wanted this day over with. ¡°Before I go in, who, or what, was that?¡± I breathed. ¡°That¡¯s prolly the Monster¡­ they say you don¡¯t see her and get to live,¡± she answered fearfully. I could even hear the distinct capitalization. ¡°Say, like, it kills the unfortunate. Some folk ¡®round here have been calling it Mercy on because that it¡¯s like a mercy if you¡­ or something.¡± ¡°If that was Mercy¡­ then I am Justice,¡± I proclaimed, trying to comfort her. Even as the words left my lips, I couldn¡¯t help but cringe. Very off-brand. Oddly, I sort of felt responsible for her and though the words were in half-jest, they felt sort of right. Something approved. The shelter seemed precarious, as if it might collapse at any moment. Yet, when little Theo pulled aside a piece of cloth that served as the door, she gestured grandly for me to enter, her smile beaming with misplaced pride. ¡°Theo¡­¡± a woman¡¯s weak voice called from within. ¡°I brought help, Mama,¡± the little girl offered back. The last dregs of an early evening¡¯s sun filtered through the many holes and cracks of the shelter, creating a sort of half-gloom. The stench of disease, stewed for too long, hung in the air like the notes of an overplayed song. Lying on the pallet was a woman ravaged by what I assumed to be disease. I drew a sharp breath in disgust. Sores and pustules ran across her arms and face, and her eyes were rheumy and almost unseeing. Seeing my reaction, she smiled sadly. For all of her disfigurements, when she smiled I saw the clear familial resemblance to Theo. The woman lifted an arm, pointing to their collection of meager things. ¡°Theophania, remember¡­ your manners, give our¡­ guest some water at least,¡± she said faintly, a hint of stern iron in her voice. I saw in her the pride of the poor. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Yes, Mama!¡± Theophania exclaimed, whizzing off happily. In almost record time she produced a dirty and chipped cup and a vase full of dubious water. With a certain seriousness, Theo poured water into the cup as if it were the finest of wines. When she finished, she bowed in a courtly manner and offered me the cup. The moves were rehearsed, like a stage play. ¡°My thanks to you for your hospitality,¡± I replied in turn, giving her a curt nod. In the formal way, I held the cup in both hands and raised it to my lips, pretending to drink from it. ¡°Leave¡­ us now, Theo. Keep a lookout in case the bad men come. The gentleman¡­ and I have things¡­ we must discuss,¡± the sick woman commanded. With one last curious look shot in my direction, she parted the cloth of the entrance and left their humble abode. ¡°Thank you¡­ stranger. My name is Elenora¡­ to whom do I speak?¡± she managed to get out, before she was overtaken by a fit of coughing. ¡°Gilgamesh is my name in these lands,¡± was my reply. Automatically, I sat down by her crude pallet to better hear her words. ¡°Your answer¡­ leads to more questions. A man of mystery. But¡­ I am growing tired. There is some money over there,¡± she pointed weakly at the corner. ¡°Not a lot¡­ but enough to see for my funeral rites. You have a look about you¡­¡± she paused, drawing a weak breath. ¡° I did not actually think that Theo would succeed in finding someone willing to help. I had sent her off to find Mercy so I could be alone while I took poison. An end for both of us. We are a pitiable pair. Me, most of all, for being a coward and clinging onto this worthless life. But perhaps something can be saved from our failure. Ah, a Copper badge, you must be an Adventurer, yes?¡± ¡°Yes, I am. And you, you are a sick creature to send a child off like that.¡± She avoided my eyes, instead focusing on my badge. ¡°Who are you to judge me? That badge proclaims that you have killed, too, like Mercy. Every day I have prayed for deliverance. Then I¡­ ask you¡­ please end my life,¡± she pleaded. ¡°Are you sure that is your wish?¡± came my frank response. Temptation clouded my mind as my hands sought to wring out what little life was left in her, just for the experience. It was not every day that something was served up to me, meager though it might be. A twisted part of me even whispered that it would be rude not to accept. Also, it would be a form of justice for Theo. I shook my head in denial. ¡°Please¡­ I lack the strength to take even my own life,¡± she rasped, before another round of coughing overcame her. I felt angry. Anger at myself. Anger at the world. ¡°My hand will save,¡± was my stern response. In an almost sympathetic reaction, Entropic Aura burst out of me, uncontrolled. It was too late to hold it back, and I wished to experiment. It was as unstoppable as the urge that compels someone to throw a stone into a calm pond, just to witness the disruption¡ªthe expanding ripples, the aftermath. What would happen if light intertwined with darkness? I commenced the Greater Heal spell, feeling its threads resist my call as though coerced. The pure melody of righteousness emerged. Chords of light clashed with the waves of gray and funereal black. Strands of gold managed to interweave, morphing into a new liquid bronze. The normally vibrant auric gold faded, becoming as muted as the evening¡¯s light. As if in complaint, the textures of the world failed to load properly, morphing into strange shapes and anomalies. My vision glitched as the world turned monochrome before color returned. Was this spell bugging out the world? An error that could be exploited? For a brief moment, I believed I was on the brink of uncovering an irreverent and unholy truth. However, that insight slipped away as the spell took effect on the woman. Book 3: Mercy [Part 3] The flesh of her body filled out as vitality flowed into her. Emaciated, skeletal limbs grew healthy and whole. The sunken areas of her face filled in, vanishing right before my eyes. Her hair and eyes shimmered with renewed vitality as magic, not quite of this world, ran rampant through her. More Mana was taken from me, sapping my strength and vitality. Far more than was normal for the spell, and my Mana dipped into the single digits. More worryingly, my Stamina, alongside my Mana, was being drained at a prodigious rate. Time itself seemed to halt and then rewind, smoothing out the traces of its passage. Yet, where her illness had marked her, an unusual phenomenon occurred. The sores and cankers seared into her skin, forming intricate patterns that shifted with each pulse of Entropy. Eventually, like all things must, the spell reached its conclusion, The woman before me gave a gasp of renewed breath as surprise and wonder filled the hollow places of her soul. "That was the healing of the great temples¡­ only those sanctified by the gods themselves can perform such acts after being supplied with sufficient offerings¡­¡± she uttered in a tone now that was a surprisingly deep and pleasant timbre. Her next words sounded hollow, the echo of spent emotion. ¡°Only those sanctified by the gods themselves can perform such acts...,¡± she said, her voice imbued with disbelief. ¡°I would not have expected it... especially not here, of all places. To think that hesitation and cowardice saved my life.¡± The woman¡¯s gaze wandered, searching, until a decision was reached. With a nod to herself, she cast aside the rags serving as her bed and rose, clad only in her scant undergarments. Despite regaining her health, Elenora''s figure was slightly thinner than I preferred. However, even with the smudges of dirt on her skin, her attractiveness was undeniable. Her doe eyes met mine, challenging, as she asked for her clothes with a commanding yet unfazed tone. ¡°Could you pass me those?¡± she requested archly, smiling knowingly at me and pointing at the pile of only slightly better attire. Blushing, I found myself caught in her momentum and I complied. After passing her the clothes, I turned around. Shortly after, Theophania burst into the room, radiating joy, and leaped into her mother''s arms. They embraced, breaking the spell Elenora had cast over me with her presence. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°You''re walking again! You look nice! Everything can be like it was before! I just knew it!!¡± the happy girl said, bouncing in her mother¡¯s arms. ¡°No bad men this time, of course!¡± she added as an afterthought. ¡°Oh, Theo, I''m so, so sorry,¡± she whispered over and over, tenderly stroking her daughter''s hair. Tears welled in her eyes, a tumultuous blend of guilt, happiness, joy, and sorrow stirring within her. ¡°Why are you sorry, Ele? I did just fine, right?" Theo asked, confusion evident in her eyes. ¡°You did more than fine,¡± she paused, her voice almost breaking. ¡°You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,¡± she replied, embracing Theo fiercely. A cynical part of me had the feeling that those words were for more to her own doubts than anything else. ¡°And you, Master Gilgamesh¡­¡± she paused, sampling the unfamiliar sound. ¡°You, you have my heartfelt thanks. I will always be indebted to you,¡± she stated bluntly, disentangling herself from her daughter and wiping away her tears. She looked away, hissing almost through her teeth before shaking her head. Looking at me imploringly she added, ¡°I have nothing to offer you. Yet, I must ask for more help, shamelessly so.¡± ¡°Please, help me and my daughter. We cannot stay here any longer. I prayed for only death, and you appeared. There must be some meaning in that. Perhaps, I am being rewarded for a past life more virtuously lived than this one,'' she half-mused, looking away momentarily before her gaze returned, filled with steely resolve. ''If you leave us now, we will only die here. Your gracious actions will have been nothing more than a stay of execution. Please, help us. I beg of you. I feel that there is a link between you and I,¡± she begged, bowing deeply and guiding her daughter to do the same with her free hand. I did not need this responsibility. There was no benefit for me. Silent, I waited, almost expecting the world to signal a new quest to provide justification for what my conscience impelled me to do. No such sign came. Yet, despite all of this, my mouth formed the next words as naturally as breathing, ¡°Very well.¡± The answer had with it an air of finality that served to irk me no end. ¡°A thousand thanks, samasa,¡± came Elenora¡¯s reply, which was echoed shortly after by her daughter. ¡°You are also too trusting¡­ what if I am some kind of monster seeking to take advantage of you?¡± ¡°Take advantage of someone who has nothing? I do not think that would be the question a monster would be asking. Besides, if you wanted to kill us or have your way with us there was, and is, nothing stopping you,¡± she replied blithely. Joy beamed about Theo¡¯s face for salvation found, a path out of this mire. Book 3: Save Point +New Editor & Suggested Areas for Revisions! Fearing the things that are alien to us is a sign of our insignificance. - The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC. Thankfully, extricating ourselves out of the dump was relatively simple and uneventful. According to Elenora and Theo, their former home was ironically called the Silk Quarter. Al-lazar had fought back the encroachment of night with a host of artificial lights, both magical and mundane. The mark of a higher civilization. The Dome of Becoming, the tallest monument, glowed almost as brightly, its majesty barely challenged. Not so for the poor Silk Quarter, for their night had landed truly, causing me to be cautious almost to the extreme. I was fearful, not for myself, but for my charges. Every shadow held a potential threat, every wayward glance in our direction a warning. It was like one of those hated escort quests that had always annoyed me. I tried badgering Theo¡¯s mother about their past, but for the most part, I had received only evasive answers. Not wanting to be rude, I decided not to push further. Theophania, on the other hand, was a never-ending stream of questions, her curiosity seemingly unaffected by the day''s earlier dangers. More oddly, I found that Elenora had forbidden Theo from calling her mother. When pressed, she simply stated that it made her feel old. We arrived tired and bedraggled at the Begonia¡¯s Shade. The day had been long and hard, and coming back here gave me a certain sense of closure. As if this inn acted as a central hub where I could save my game and so forth. It was a shame that I could not save the game. The first sight to greet me was that of Kidu in the common room, his large presence drawing the eye. Unlike the barbarian I expected him to be, I saw him eating delicately at his meal with the correct utensils. Larynda, sitting next to him, was devouring a side of mutton in a manner more fitting of my initial expectations of the northern savage, creating a striking contrast. Today was full of surprises. And of Elwin, there was still no sign. The man could be a ghost at times. ¡°Gilgamesh of Uruk! You look like you were in a fight with something out of the storm. And lost,¡± Kidu commented, laughing between mouthfuls. I responded with a dry, ¡°Thank you, as always,¡± while the pair behind me offered polite bows. Naira, the innkeeper, approached after attending to another table, her gaze assessing. ¡°I presume a bath is in order? I¡¯ll prepare the room and water for,¡± her eyes briefly settled on Elenora and her daughter before returning to me, ¡°three.¡± ¡°That would be perfect, along with a change of clothes for me. My harness and gambeson?¡± ¡°Ready in two days. Tomorrow evening, if he does not drink this evening.¡± A pleasant surprise, if not a curious answer. ¡°Very good. And, of course, the Lady Zariyah?¡± Amused by the title, Naira smiled. ¡°The lady is in my room, resting. She mentioned that today''s excitement was too much. It seems too much excitement can unsettle both heart and soul.¡± ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more. These are Theophania and her mother, Elenora. For now, could you please attend to their needs?¡± ***** After giving the smiling serving girl Ninurta the remains of my bloodstained and torn clothing outside the inn¡¯s baths, I informed her that I would be taking my evening meal in my room. I was able to enjoy a moment of peace, free from violence. Taking a moment to unwind, I looked over my body and tested it, moving my limbs and testing their range and movement. Miraculously, it seemed my magic had prevented any lasting damage. There was a fleeting concern about potential internal injuries, but it quickly dissipated, likely a mere shadow cast by the stress I had endured, washed away by the warmth of the water. Dressing in clean clothes afterward felt extraordinarily luxurious, a simple pleasure magnified by the day''s trials. Going to my room, I made sure to put on my sword, fashion and convenience be damned. I just sat on the edge of my bed and reviewed my character sheet.
[STATUS] Calling: Gilgamesh lvl.14 Paladin/Reaver
Strength: 32 Dexterity: 26 Constitution: 47 Intelligence: 25 Wisdom: 22 Charisma: 16 Luck: 24
Entropic Mimic [Creature of Entropy - lvl.25]
Health: 387/537 Stamina: 26/65 Mana: 1/1 Adaptive Defense (lvl.2) Shield Form (lvl.2)
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.3) Power Strike (lvl.4) 10 Endure (lvl.5) Stealth (lvl.2) Rest (lvl.4) Backstab (lvl.2) Dodge (lvl.3) The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Polearms (lvl.3) Dual Wield (lvl.2) Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.4) Improved Unarmed Combat (lvl.1) Hammers (lvl.4) Flails (lvl.3) Maces (lvl.3) Shields (lvl.3) Medium Armour (lvl.4) Improved Heavy Armour (lvl.1) Axes (lvl.2) Daggers (lvl.4) Throwing Weapons (lvl.2) Double Throw (lvl.1) 5 Shield Bash (lvl.2) 10 Riding (lvl.2) Dash (lvl.1) 10 Swords (lvl.3) Crossbows (lvl.4) Blind-Fighting (lvl.2) Rush Strike (lvl.1) 20 Tracking (lvl.1) Trap Detection (lvl.1) Frenzied Strikes (lvl.2) 30 Monster Taming (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) 5 Rust (lvl.4) 2 Identify (lvl.3) 1 Silent Casting (lvl.2) Mana Regeneration (lvl.2) Purify (lvl.2) 3 Greater Heal (lvl.2) 10 Holy Aura (lvl.3) 2 Decay (lvl.1) 1 Drain (lvl.5) 2 Entropic Aura (lvl.3) 2 Inferno Bolts (lvl.2) 2
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% to all starting attributes. Mark of the Paladin: 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical. Touch of the Void: 10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects. Mark of the Adaptive Helix: 5% resistance to Physical, Minor Regeneration.
Experience to next level 208/1283
Health: 404/441 Stamina: 42/76 Mana: 4/18
A few points of experience from combat and four points of ¡®organic¡¯ attribute gains were not a bad haul for a single day. Still, it was not commensurate to the amount of effort I had exerted, nor the suffering I had to go through body and mind. Didn¡¯t games like this tend to have a reverse difficulty curve? Weren¡¯t things meant to get easier as I progressed? I thought I had a solid build¡­ More interestingly, my Mimic had grown along with me, as it had gained a level with the subsequent increase in attributes. Also, its skills had risen which meant that, like me, it experienced organic growth. There was a small knock on the door. ¡°Sir, your meal,¡± came Ninurta¡¯s small voice. ¡°Come in,¡± I replied brusquely and she opened the door. A smell of curried meat wafted in with the serving girl and my eyes feasted on the evening meal. Until then, I had not realized just exactly how hungry I was. Along with the meal, Elwin sauntered in with a look somewhere between knowing amusement and genuine worry. ¡°You were up to a lot today. Mind if I join you for a bite or two?¡± I took a small breath before fixing a polite expression. ¡°Not at all. Ninurta, if you please, a little more food and wine for my guest.¡± ¡°As you wish, samasa,¡± the girl answered seriously, skittering out of the room after placing down the meal and drinks on the low table of the room. ¡°The big man seems to be enjoying real civilization, can¡¯t blame him for it. Been a long hard trip on the road with not really much in the way of anything. We should all have a talk, jus¡¯ the three of us, you know. The original crew that fate has taken down this merry road,¡± he explained casually, shrugging his shoulders. I looked him over, searching for anything casual observation might have missed. ¡°Are you in a maudlin mood, Elwin, or is there something else you wish to say?¡± I asked, not much in the mood for anything. Company, even Elwin¡¯s company, might be a better companion than stewing myself in my own thoughts. ¡°Now¡­ let me just get a quick sip. Throat¡¯s mighty parched as I¡¯ve heard that a certain someone has been busy in the great city of Al-Lazar,¡± he replied saucily before sitting down cross-legged on the carpet. Wishing he would just get to it, I nonetheless joined him. Not that I had much choice. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°Picking fights with the furries. Oh, and consorting with probably practitioners of the dark arts, more picking fights, saving some random women in the slums from the depths of poverty for no reason, and you guessed it¡­ more fights. The last one, by the look of it, she would have had you if I didn¡¯t put my best foot forward. Took me ages to find my blades after that¡­ Yes, you can thank the magnificent Elwin for that. Took one good look at me and thought better of it!¡± he answered smugly, helping himself to some of my evening repast. ¡°Cowards that prey on the weak and vulnerable often turn tail at the first sign of real resistance,¡± I remarked blithely, cracking my neck. Curried meat of unknown origins lay before me on a bed of saffron-yellow rice. The aroma of it tantalized me, coaxing a fresh hunger to gnaw at my belly. A part of me suddenly regretted allowing Elwin to join me, as I sat down cross-legged, opposite him. ¡°Right random it all is. Pretty long list for a day¡¯s activities. Wonder where you find the time for it all? And why for that matter,¡± he commented between mouthfuls. Taking a moment to savor the first bite of the meal, I idled in my response. How had he known? Perhaps he had spoken with Zariyah and Elenora, but his last comments suggested that he had witnessed things firsthand. ¡°You followed me?¡± ¡°That I did. ¡®I saw that savage animal start it, I did!¡¯ sound familiar? Always got your back I do! And, I can tell you, it seems that I have not lost my touch. I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re worthy of respect or just plain stupid at times. What¡¯s the word the big man always uses, god-touched right?¡± ¡°That was all you then¡­¡± I replied a little sourly. Still, I was in no mood to chastise anyone and still a little mentally exhausted. ¡°If you want to help, just make it a bit more obvious next time. ¡°So?¡± he insisted, gesturing with his hands for me to explain. ¡°So?¡± ¡°Why you do it? All of that?¡± he insisted again. ¡°Because it felt like the right thing to do? Do I need any other reasons?¡± was my arch reply. ¡°It¡¯s just that, now don¡¯t take offense here, but you just don¡¯t seem to be that type. As I said before, it just seems so very random,¡± he continued placatingly, pouring a glass of watered wine for him and me. With a grin that I hoped annoyed, I gave my blithe answer, ¡°Perhaps, it is because the fates and the gods will it? Praise be to the goddess and all of that.¡± I enjoyed his expression as I finally enjoyed my evening meal, bland though it tasted. Book 3: New Purpose + Chapters have been edited! There is nothing more contemptible and pitiful than the bravery of the weak and powerless. - The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC. A night filled with dreams of familiar horrors that, by now, felt almost cartoonish in their extravagance. I awoke, shaking off the dread of the night with a casual yawn. It was nothing short of amazing how swiftly one could grow inured to even the strangest of things. Still, life was filled with surprises. That morning, Kidu brought breakfast, the tray of food looking almost comically small in his giant hands. ¡°It is time we talk,¡± he stated simply, setting the table. "Very well, my friend, what''s on your mind?" I responded with a smile, ready to engage in conversation. "No¡­ first we eat, then we talk. It''s best to settle the stomach before settling other matters," he replied gruffly, setting the tone for our interaction. With that, we shared a slightly awkward breakfast of gruel mixed with fresh fruit and honey. While it wasn''t the year''s highlight, it was decently palatable. "We do not open our mouths and speak as much as those from the warm lands. I believe words should be sparingly used, only to enhance the silence. Yet, there are words that need to be said," he started in explanation, his words coming out as if almost forced. ¡°And so, first, I must thank you Gilgamesh of Uruk. I have never truly said it. By your actions, I was freed. And not just from the iron chains,¡± he stated without reserve. I shifted a little embarrassed by the praise, well-deserving though it was. ¡°No thanks are necessary. We were all in the same boat, as it were, and we all did what was necessary. Nothing more and nothing less,¡± I replied, laughing weakly. This whole exchange, for Kidu at least, was quite possibly a version of verbal diarrhea. I wonder what had suddenly brought it on? He looked me directly in the eyes. ¡°There''s no need for the kind of humility that disappears with the spring thaw... I''ve learned a great deal from you." He paused to take a deep breath, his broad chest expanding as if he were a great bellows, then exhaled slowly. The large man interlocked his fingers, rubbing his hands together as he prepared himself. "I have a confession to make...¡± My spoon stopped halfway to my lips. ¡°I hated violence. Always hated it,¡± he said. What had I been expecting? The world, of course, did not revolve around me, I thought to myself wryly. Was I already suffering some sort of main character syndrome? I felt a profound sense of relief. Despite my progressive beliefs, which include the acceptance of homosexuality, I preferred to keep such matters at a distance from my personal life. While the notion might be flattering in a detached sense, it could undeniably introduce significant awkwardness into our relationship. ¡°I have never told anyone this, not even my sister Aruru. It would have made me weak. Yet it had gnawed at me. Violence, I had always believed, was the worst thing you could do to another being¡­¡± he breathed, desperate to let it all out at once. Was Kidu going into a philosophizing mode? It was like watching a sheep sprout wings and start breathing fire. Kidu abhorred violence? He looked away as if living a distant memory. ¡°The taking of life¡­ I could not stand it. My spear would often fly with an aim to miss its mark, my arrows without purpose. Even fighting against others in the deep months of winter, I sought to impair and to intimidate, rather than to kill. But, kill I did, and the grief and guilt weighed about me like a heavy stone. And¡­ and¡­ I got better at it. If just to end things quicker. I built about me a shell of lies that grew with each year until they changed into something resembling truth¡± ¡°It was a weakness. You have shown me otherwise. You have shown me the joy one can take from it. You have shown me the truth of it. Thank you. It is thanks to you that I was able to grow to be a better person,¡± he confessed. I had mixed feelings about receiving a compliment such as this. At the very least, I think, I might have made him a more decisive person. ¡°Good for you, Kidu¡­ err,¡± I replied awkwardly between another bite. ¡°And Larynda, how has she been? I am sorry to have foisted her off on you and Cordelia, but I have been busy with other matters.¡± ¡°The little one is well. She progresses quickly, well quickly for a girl. There are limits.¡± ¡°Perhaps you should not say that, in quite those words, when Cordelia is around¡± A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Perhaps so. There is wisdom in those words.¡± he guffawed, slapping the table. ¡°But best you impart some of your wisdom on the little one. She pesters me constantly with questions I can not answer.¡± ¡°I think I will do just that.¡± ***** In my conversation with Kidu, I realized that I could potentially deeply influence those around me, although the specifics of how I could do so remained unclear. For instance, what event or dialogue choices were necessary to get the desired result? Fulfilling my promise, I spent some time sharing the knowledge of my world with Larynda. For some reason, she showed a peculiar interest in the human circulatory system and the mechanics of blood flow. To satisfy her curiosity, I sketched a basic diagram on a rough piece of paper, detailing the functions of the heart, veins, and arteries. This initiative eventually led me to explain respiration, though I encountered some difficulties. Larynda lacked the foundational knowledge to grasp some of the concepts fully. Elwin, who joined us later, seemed to find the information quite enlightening, murmuring to himself as he listened. More rewarding than all of this was the message from the world, telling me that I was on the right path.
You have gained 1 Wisdom.
This experience made me wonder if this was how the first missionaries felt. However, unlike them, I was spreading scientific enlightenment instead of religious misinformation, which I found liberating. Yet, this sparked a series of selfish and dark thoughts as I shared a simple lunch with Cordelia. Staring at me with a convert¡¯s fervor, her next words intruded, ¡°You are in contemplation?¡± ¡°Yes, one could say that. I am pondering on the nature of reality. If this, all of this, the world itself that we live in, is nothing more than something like a dream?¡± I speculated, throwing out a well-worn point. Her response was almost chillingly like that of the conclusion that greater minds than I had come up with. ¡°Yes, it is the common curse of man to seek explanation for simple truths that are, of course, self-evident. We think, do we not? To question our very capacity for thought and the agency that comes with it, to acknowledge these simple truths, or to deny our role in a plan or purpose leads us only down a path of nihilism and existential despair.¡± ¡°And what of the plan your Goddess has for me?¡± ¡°That is something only She can know. But rest assured, you are playing a part in it. You are the very embodiment of her will. Your existence gives meaning and order to all around you. Your words are her words. Her will is your will. That is simply how things are. To doubt that is to doubt that water is wet,¡± she stated with deep conviction, the fire of faith in her eyes burning bright. If only she knew half of the truth of the matter. I had thrown off her shackles even before coming to this world. Cordelia¡¯s words, now instead of filling me with dread, became the seed of a grand plan. I spoke with the voice of the Goddess behind me. That could be used. Even if she did withdraw her Grace, as long as others believed¡­ What if I used religion to my advantage? Cordelia revered me almost as a Messianic figure sent from her Goddess, which, in a manner, I was. Just her very presence next to me, a Temple Knight wielding a holy blade of the Goddess lent great credence to my position. But this led me to question the morality of exploiting religion in such a way. Was it right to inflict religion in such a manner on these unsuspecting natives? Was it right to draw deep from that well of lies? More importantly, what inspiration could I draw from the falsehoods of my own world? If my Charisma was high enough, would it be possible? Around and around these thoughts whirled, their future forms still indistinct, hidden thick by the mists of time. These thoughts swirled in my mind, their future shapes blurred and obscured by the mists of uncertainty. I awaited guidance, a sign from beyond to illuminate my path. Yet, no such message arrived. This silence, in its own way, provided the clarity I sought. The decision was mine to make and mine alone. I would keep it in reserve for now, a card I could play once I had grown more fully into my power. ¡°Perhaps you should spend a little time with the young Larynda. It is often in the innocence of children that we can find answers to once simple questions, now clouded by worldly sensibilities,¡± the beautiful woman advised, placing down her utensils with almost religious reference. I stopped an exasperated sigh from making its escape at the last moment. Was this the world''s answer? Spend more time with the half-elven child? ***** The rest of the day was spent in idle contemplation and in rest. I was quickly learning that all the skills and magic in the world did little for simple mental fatigue. The next morning, I spent a little time dilly-dallying here and there in the early hours. For reasons that I knew nothing about, Zariyah had left early. I took the time instead to check on Patches, seeing her contentedly lying down on a bed of hay. Rather remarkable, I thought to myself, a compliment to the stablehands. Donkeys and horses only lay down in areas where they felt safe. Bravo. Upon feeding Patches a local purple fruit, for which she showed scant gratitude, I decided it was time to review my finances with the owner of the Begonia¡¯s Shade. It didn¡¯t take long for me to realize that my expenses were steadily draining my purse. Purchases here and there, meals, drinks, laundry services, and so on, were all adding up. During the conversation with Naira, I broached the subject of possibly finding some form of employment for Elenora. If anything, it might help curb some of my bleeding. I chose to defer the matter of the mother-daughter pair that I had picked up until later. Going through the kitchens, back into the inn proper, I espied Larynda stealing a honeyed snack with her sticky fingers. I stopped her, my hands shooting out faster than I expected. I dragged her outside. Her eyes grew as wide as moons in surprise, but almost in reflex an excuse was already making its way out of her lips. ¡°Dun¡¯t mean nothing. Cook said I could have it, like¡­¡± she blurted. I looked at her, caring nothing for the act of larceny that I had just witnessed. ¡°Just don¡¯t steal from me. And, if you are going to do it, best not do it so close to home, eh? Now, get your things and help me into my armor?¡± ¡°Where we going?¡± she asked, confused. ¡°You wanted to be an Adventurer, right?¡± Book 3: Sewer Rats [Part 1] When dragons fight, it is the trees that are burned. - A Quassian aphorism. Through a raised visor, I munched on some laverbread, the flavor almost an afterthought for me. Encased in solid steel, I felt more confident and safe. Skipping beside me, Larynda was her usual whirlwind of effervescence. She had decided to wear a dagger at her waist and took with her one of the wooden practice staves I had bought for her long ago. The staff looked a little different now, strange symbols were carved upon it, in the design of animals and plants. Kidu¡¯s work, if I was not mistaken. Words continued to spill forth from her mouth in a cascade of curiosity and praise. In the midst of her relentless inquiries and scattered compliments, my mind drifted to the events that had led to my current predicament. A task that I would take no pleasure in. ***** It all started as she had helped me into my plate harness. Whoever Naira had commissioned to repair my armor had done a good job. The thoughtful innkeeper had also acquired for me some iron bolts for my crossbow without any prompting. Free of charge, I hoped. As we slowly put on my armored skin, I remembered the fight I had with the masked woman in the Silk Quarter. With sufficient levels and points invested into my attributes, I was sure I could eventually match her skill and speed. That was, after all, the nature of the game. What I could not match, at least not yet, were her lithe and flexible motions. An inkling of an idea on how to rectify this formed in the back of my mind. I would require Kidu¡¯s help. I found the wild man in the common area, drinking already, despite the early hour. His deep laugh was infectious, his brash ribaldry causing some of the female staff to blush. However, some had chosen to linger a touch closer, and a touch longer, than would be expected. ¡°Morning to you, Kidu! I see this morning finds you well!¡± I called out. ¡°Yes, this city life. It agrees with me much. No hunting for five hours in the snow. I can see how the warm landers grow soft! Though this place is hot, not warm!¡± ¡°Just so! I have come to ask a favor from you. It requires your great strength,¡± ¡°Ask,¡± he returned gruffly, looking away as he swallowed another bite of his breakfast. ***** The experience had been surprising and, admittedly, a bit costly in terms of Mana. Larynda watched on in astonishment as I began to instruct Kidu. Ensuring I was at full Health, I had him force my body to stretch, tearing away unsuspecting ligaments and muscles. I then cast Heal on myself each time to mend the inflicted damage. Larynda winced painfully at the sight, but it was important to demonstrate that some achievements require sacrifice. After all, as the saying goes, ¡®No pain, no gain.¡¯ Fortunately, in this world, I could conveniently do away with most of the pain if I was careful. Thus, I became more flexible and limber in movement than I had ever been before. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°It is as Elwin speaks. You are an odd duck,¡± stated Kidu a little unbelievingly, his usual deep voice a shocked octave higher. ¡°No, it was as you said. God-touched, yes? Without them, I would not have been able to do this. I just decided to use their blessings a little creatively,¡± I stated simply. The small half-elf looked at me as if I were a loon. ¡°Why you have to go that far, though? I know you didn¡¯t cry out, which was scary an¡¯ all, but it still musta really really hurt like¡­ So why?¡± interrupted the small half-elven child. I thought about the encounter with the masked woman again, remembering being bested. Searching for an answer, the real reason was just experimentation. Primarily, it was to see if I could, and to do what was necessary to improve the state of my body, to get whatever small advantage I could get. However, I doubted that would be a satisfying answer for the child. Remembering the guards¡¯ of the caravan blatherings, I decided to make that the answer. ¡°The Festival. I intend to enter. It will be a good test of might and will require a small degree of flexibility, no?¡± I answered glibly. ¡°I guess so,¡± she replied weakly. ¡°If Gilgamesh of Uruk is entering this Festival, then so too is Kidu of the Three Bears! These warm landers will learn how real men do things!¡± roared Kidu in declaration. ¡°This I do swear!¡± ¡°If Kidu is doing it, it must be fun. So I might too!¡± bubbled the little girl as she stood a bit taller, getting caught up in the flow. I quickly turned my sneer into a smile and shrugged my shoulders at the tall man, realizing that my eyes barely reached his chest. ¡°But before that, a little training is required, no? I have always believed that to learn by doing is usually the best. Larynda and I were going to do some tasks for the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Will you join us?¡± ¡°Pah! Not unless I have to¡­ I must do my own training. This Festival is a test of might with no weapons, yes?¡± Larynda visibly paled at Kidu¡¯s words. ¡°Just so,¡± I succinctly answered. ¡°No matter. Suit yourself, son of the Three Bears. Come now Larynda, we must register you with the Guild. This was your dream, right?¡± ***** Registering Larynda at the Al-Lazar branch of the Guild had been a relatively simple, if not expensive affair, at six silver. More surprising than the cost was that it was allowed at all. Such contrivances that we all took for granted, such as child labor laws, simply did not exist in this world. The woman who had taken down her details was a timid creature, too pale by far for this part of the world, and her skin was paying the price. Freckles had invaded and taken over much of her face. Still, she was efficient, and that was all that mattered in the end. Her name was Aldina, if I remember correctly. She led the little girl upstairs to meet with the Guildmaster, no doubt to touch the Bonding Crystal and say the oath or whatever initiation rituals the Guild required. I waited on the ground floor, availing myself of the services provided. Purchasing a Health and Mana Potion, I could not help but think that the prices were, of course, horrendous. But that was the price you paid for convenience. Like a miser checking over his hoard, I kept on checking my Mana. I willed it to rise, debating whether or not to consume my recently bought Mana potion. In the end, thrift won out and Larynda came back with a new copper badge and even more skip to her step. Should I check on the Necromancer Vincenzio? No, I decided. The man had said he would send word, so wait I would. I would be amply awarded for my patience so I decided to let the matter rest for a bit longer. Now was the matter of getting a job. Walking over to the large board, only a few scraps were left, even at this time of the day. The inconvenient, impossible, or simply loathsome requests were all that were left behind. I ground my teeth in frustration, ripping out one of the notice requests. Slay 20 Sewer Rats (Tails Required) - 8 Silver, the notice read. A hollow laugh escaped from my lips as I registered the contrived silliness of it all. Receiving a few odd looks and I worried frown from Larynda, I simply had to admit to myself one thing. If this wasn¡¯t proof that this world was nothing more than a game, then I do not know what would. It was almost as if the universe itself was mocking my earlier resolution to take this world more seriously. Book 3: Sewer Rats [Part 2] The walk to the nearest entrance of the Perfumery, the city''s sewer network, was relatively uneventful, despite its location in the Silk Quarter. As I passed by the rough tanneries and rougher dwellings, a disheveled individual, a desperate Dust addict with glazed, wild eyes, accosted me. He begged for a few coins, but my response was a quick kick, sending him on his way. As expected, the city folk around us didn''t spare a single glance in our direction. ¡°Whatever you do, don¡¯t grow up to be like one of those,¡± I suggested to Larynda. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me twice. That¡¯s exactly what I don¡¯t want to be like!¡± was her surprisingly mature response. I had expected an entreaty to be kinder. Turning a corner, I stopped suddenly. Larynda skidded to a halt behind me, bumping into my back. I stood in front of some serious-looking gates guarded by some very mean and rough sorts. The construction was decorated with hellish imagery, the dark wood banded with steel. Before the gates, were what I assumed to be the Perfumers, the maintenance workers and de facto guards of the sewers. The greater part of them wore heavy armor of varying quality, type, and styles and only a few of them were in civilian clothing. However, they all wore the same uniform lantern at their hips. A sour stench, just a hint of it, for the time being, emanated sinisterly from beyond. We had arrived at our destination, the entrance to the sewers of Al-Lazar. To supply a city as dense in population as the City of Dust with water was a monumental proposition and ensuring its sanitation with the limited advancements of this world, doubly so. Along with the briefest of explanations, the receptionist had provided me with a rough map of the sewer network, and from my cursory study of it, it truly was almost as impressive a feat of engineering as the city above. The maintenance of such a sanitary network alone would cost a fortune daily. And thus it was the Perfumed Men, the sewage workers of the city, that this humble duty fell upon. Funded by the Council of Al-Lazar, they were essentially an arm of the local government, and like most things run by governments, woefully inefficient and ineffective. It was the Guild of Adventurers that took up the slack, culling the multitude of things that bred in the dark depths of the sewers. It was an example of outsourcing, the lazy last resort of failed administrators. ¡°You one of the new ones? Copper rankers, right?¡± a large bulky man asked, stepping up to me and not-so-subtly blocking my way. ¡°Leave him be. Looks like he¡¯s just going to be another victim for the tunnel killer¡­¡± sneered a cross-eyed excuse for a human a few meters away. ¡°You lot been dying more than usual lately... and not even kind enough to leave your stuff behind.¡± Even with the overpowering stench of the sewer, I could still smell this walking piece of filth quite clearly. The bulky man laughed at his companion¡¯s words. I met his gaze, forcing my expression to remain pleasant. On a basic human level, I found it to be difficult to treat such an ugly person in a pleasant manner. A scraggly beard did little to hide a face that had never recovered from its war with acne, and his eyes looked in different directions like a crazed chameleon. Despite his ugly excuse for a face, this man was more muscle than fat, if the thick exposed neck above his armor and wide shoulders were anything to go by. ¡°Aren¡¯t the pair of you¡­ well a little scrawny and young to be going into the Perfumery? Ain¡¯t exactly the place fer¡­¡± he continued, nattering on like an old woman. ¡°I am stronger than I look. Likely more so than you. And the girl, she can probably kill everyone here with a few words. We are here on a ridiculous quest to kill twenty Sewer Rats. Now step aside and let us in,¡± I commanded, still in my most pleasant voice. Larynda stuck out her tongue at him. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Ho! Ho!¡± he laughed off my claim, ¡°The brazen balls on this one!¡± His toothless comrades chuckled alongside him. ¡°Be our guest. Just thought of giving you a piece of advice. People have died down there, is all. Lost a few mates over the years. You can¡¯t be careless down there,¡± he answered placatingly. I noticed there was an edge of nervousness in his voice. ¡°Mate, just you know you ain¡¯t the first to be going down today. Another groups has been down there since yesterday evening. One of you lot,¡± he commented. ¡°Also, likes, you should probably be at least taking a torch or lantern down there. We can rent you one out at a reasonable price¡­ All of you be needing one if you want to go down.¡± ¡°We will be alright, but thank you,¡± I stated tightly, ¡°Perhaps, you don¡¯t get it. You be needing one to go down, and the price of a rental goes up the longer I¡¯m talking,¡± he stated no-so-subtly. ¡°As I said, we will be alright,¡± I replied firmly, unwrapping a cloth bundle from my boiled leather satchel. A bright piece of Zajasite answered his suggestion. He wiped his forehead with an armored forearm, the gesture more symbolic than anything else. ¡°Well I¡¯ll be, that¡¯s a stone from the Travelling People. They don¡¯t give ¡®em out or sell them to outsiders,¡± he said awestruck, the flame of avarice burning brightly in his odious features. ¡°They don¡¯t. Now, may I enter, or must I make a formal complaint to the Guild? Step aside,¡± was my simple and flat response. He looked around nervously, probably thinking to make light of the situation. I looked at him with eyes, dead in their seriousness, willing him to say anything out of order so I could have the merest of excuses to end him. ¡°Yeah, can we go in now or do I have to kill ''em all like you said, Gil?¡± Larynda cut in with childish innocence, drawing worried glances from the men around them. ¡°Mate, no need for any o¡¯ that now. Is the rules that you have to pay us for the service,¡± he answered worriedly. Something was afoot here, the receptionist at the Guild had made no mention of this. This whole thing, truly, stank of simple corruption. ¡°No. No, you were not. I know your type. You were trying to threaten me. Now you are probably wondering how you can rob me. See this stone? Take it from me if you can. I invite you to it,¡± I offered, giving them each a confident smile. ¡°I dare you all.¡± The big man looked for support from the men behind him but found none. Perfect. ¡°Likes I said, now, there be no need for that. That stone be more than enough to pay fer going in for a year¡­¡± he said, nodding to himself as he came closer. I answered him with an armored backhand that knocked him almost spinning to the ground. He reached for a round mace at his waist as he tried to regain his feet, but I simply kicked at it with a steel boot, knocking it out of his grip. ¡°You¡­ can¡¯t be doing this,¡± he wheezed, a bloodied and broken nose adding to his beauty. ¡°I¡¯ll be reporting this to the City Guard and your Guild I will!¡± I noticed his friends looking in different directions, slowly edging away from him at an appropriately cautious speed. ¡°The contemptible blatherings of the weak. You will do no such thing, because if you do¡­ well you won¡¯t be able to do much after. Let¡¯s leave it at that. Oh, come to think of it, you have wasted quite a bit of my time on what should have been a relatively simple procedure.¡± ¡°Was a shakedown if you ask me, Gil,¡± commented the little girl, her childish voice at odds with the content of her words. ¡°Yes, you are most likely correct. That it was. Here I was thinking for a moment that this city was meant to be civilized. Disappointment, it follows me wherever I go,¡± I lamented comically, as I sent out my searching spell. A trick I had learned to keep people off balance.
Arif Rashid - Sewage Worker (Human lvl.12)
Health: 101/147 Stamina: 28/31 Mana: 7/7
¡°Don¡¯t you think I deserve a token of apology for this heinous waste of time? Arif Rashid,¡± I demanded. I had grown to love Identify, for its utility in breaking down a person¡¯s worth into objective numbers. Book 3: Small World [Part 1] The sewers of Al-Lazar, ofttimes ironically dubbed as the ¡®Perfumery¡¯ by the locals of the city, is a vast underground network of tunnels that funnel out the wastewater of the city. Over the generations, strange creatures have come to call the place home. Cunning rodents the size of wolves, and in sufficient numbers almost as fearsome, clades of reptilia and chitinous horrors live alongside each other. Strangest of all are the gelatinous things that stalk that underground realm, the Quiverings. Translucent slimy entities that move silently along the damp corridors and walkways of the sewers are they. The Quiverings feed on any organic matter they encounter, dissolving it with their secretions. Legend has it that these creatures are not merely mutations or residents by chance. Rather, they are said to be the living manifestations of the city''s sins, accumulated over the countless centuries. As if aware of their own origins, they avoid the light, thriving in the darkest recesses of the sewers. Occasionally, they merge into larger, more formidable masses when threatened, making them a perilous challenge for even the most seasoned sewer explorers. - Monsters of the Mortal Realms by K. D. Fidditch. A stone staircase, well-worn and smoothed by the countless many before us, spiraled down into the depths. Larynda and I, a most unlikely pair, descended slowly into this new mire. I extended my Zajasite, its dim light faintly revealing the ancient friezes and carvings etched into the rock. These relics bore the marks of time. Some of the damage was accidental, others clearly intentional. Here, a figure''s face was obliterated; there, limbs were gouged out with rough tools by uncaring hands. I inwardly hissed at whoever had done such an unthinkable thing. As we descended, the stench grew, the clear smell of the products of the human condition. Larynda was visibly wilting under the nasal assault, but despite this, her face was set with lines with determination. Against that, I had no excuse for a humiliating retreat back up to the surface. That, and the fact I would be a laughingstock for those above until I had finished my mission down here. My pride would not allow it. ¡°You know¡­ just a thought an¡¯ all, but you ever thought it might have worked better¡­ if you, well, tried to be nice?¡± she asked weakly. I paused in my descent, trying to think of a clever response. Turning around to look at her, I instead saw to my horror that something was writhing underneath her clothes. ¡°In a world defined by violence, what better language to speak than.. What¡­ What is that? There is something there¡­¡± I exclaimed aghast. She looked bemusedly at me before she put two and two together. ¡°Oh this, this is just Bubbles!¡± she answered in good cheer, producing a wriggling bundle of fur from under her clothes. The creature was the Whispermews that I had gifted the girl after killing quite a few of its relatives after the rains. Unlike me, it had not forgotten those moments when I had held its life in my hands. It quivered in fear under my gaze, squirming until it escaped into the relative safety of Larynda¡¯s garments. ¡°Stop that Bubbles! That tickles¡­ it¡¯s just Gil! Remember him right!?¡± she laughed, the sound echoing down before it was swallowed up by dark and soft susurration of flowing water. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°It seems that Bubbles has not taken a liking to me,¡± I commented dryly. ¡°Nah! Bubbles likes everyone. He¡¯s just a bit shy, that¡¯s all!¡± she answered in her enthusiasm, the sound just a little too loud for the atmosphere of the place. ¡°You know why we are here, right?¡± ¡°Yes, of course. Killing Sewer Rats!¡± ¡°Exactly. Which is why we should probably be a little quieter. Because if we wish to kill these things, first we must catch them.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think that''s gonna be a problem. We need twenty tails, right? Well, some of the other people at the Guild told me that they are like all scaredy when they are alone, but if you get a bunch of ¡®em together that they¡¯ll be finding you. Like wolves they are.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s just fantastic. So you are basically saying that we should announce ourselves?¡± came my acerbic response. ¡°We don¡¯t want to be spending all day down here, right? We can handle ourselves, right? You¡¯re meant to be the blessed champion of the gods, right? Plus, we¡¯ve come down this far and I¡¯m already wanting a bath.¡± ¡°Your point is well taken. That would probably be an option, but first, let¡¯s have a look at the lay of the land, as it were,¡± I smiled, pleased that she was a good judge of a person¡¯s worth, but unwilling to go ahead so easily with her foolish suggestion. ¡°Suit yourself,¡± she replied with an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders. With that discussion out of the way, we continued, finally reaching the bottom of the steps and entering the vast underground sewer system proper. Uniformly cut stone walkways lined the flow of effluence of black sewage water and were wide enough for five men to walk abreast. The walkway I was on was lacking a rail, and no doubt failing modern safety standards, but there would be little chance of me falling into the dirty water. However, the thought of getting any of that on me caused me to shudder. It was not a pleasant environment at all. Not in the slightest. We walked on for a good hour, careful to note down our path on the map. Fatigue, at least fatigue of the senses, had already begun to set in. So overpowering had been the stench that my nose had almost shut down in self-defense. Added to this, irritation still perched itself upon my shoulder, whether that be from having to do this most generic of tasks or the fact that I had not been able to vent satisfactorily. This world was teaching me new things about myself that I had never known before. Who would have thought that a quiet bookworm like myself would have the propensity for such violence? All it took was the removal of the trappings and the veneer of civilization to reveal the animal that we all were beneath. I clicked my teeth in annoyance, and so too did my ward, as if mimicking me, causing yet another small spike of irritation. We had yet to encounter any Sewer Rats, or anything for that matter, which prompted Larynda¡¯s earlier suggestion to play about in mind. I gritted my teeth. ¡°Alright, you win.¡± ¡°Win what? A prize? Do I get any money?¡± she asked with a mix of curious insolence and innocent greed. I sighed at the unfairness of life in general. She would probably never forget this for as long as she drew breath. ¡°Let¡¯s do it your way,¡± I acquiesced. ¡°So, like lots of banging and shouting?¡± ¡°Well, if I am going to have to be listening to a racket, it might as well be a pleasant one. You remember the tune and the words from that song I taught you?¡± She nodded mutely, trying to hide a smile that snuck upon her. ¡°But¡­¡± ¡°But what?¡± ¡°Well some of the words, like, they don¡¯t have much meaning. No matter how many times you explain ¡®em to me I just can''t understand, like¡­ so I, errmm, changed them.¡± ¡°Fine, whatever. Just sing it. Loudly.¡± ¡°Alright! And you just complimented me just now dincha?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think I did. Did I?¡± ¡°You mus¡¯ be getting old if you don¡¯t remember. Haha!¡± Book 3: Small World [Part 2] Before I could offer a further rebuttal or a well-timed rebuke, she began to sing. And sing she did. Her voice carried a song from my own world, transformed into something both new and familiar. It soared above the noise of the flowing dirty water, its crystal clear notes cutting through the murkiness. It was more than mere music, it resonated with the very air, and the deep darkness at the edges of my light seemed to lessen in its intensity. If anything else, the girl had a gift. The innocent clarity of the notes, so subtly different, called forth memories of a happier place and a simpler happier time. It was all very distracting. So much so, that I almost fell victim to that most quiet of killers, complacency. The receptionist did explain that there would be areas of the sewers that had been trapped by the Perfurmed Men. This was, at least on the surface, an effort to passively reduce the number of the critters that dwelt below. Marked, the areas would be, but I was lost in Larynda¡¯s song and the poor light, and I had almost missed it. However, perhaps it was due to my Trap Detection skill, or even just to my paranoid nature, but there to my left, just below eye level, were markings that I had missed before. But just as I was about three paces away, my eyes were drawn to those odd markings that I, at first, did not recognize. ¡°Stop! Don¡¯t Move!¡± I shouted, grabbing Larynda¡¯s shoulder and cutting off her song. ¡°Alright! Alright!¡± came her surprised complaint. I quickly scanned the edges of my vision, hesitantly moving ever so slightly closer to get a clearer view. It turned out to be the symbol of the crude lantern of the Perfumers. Once painted yellow, grime and time had caused the color to run and fade. In addition to this, it was defaced by the torch and sword of Adventurer¡¯s Guild, making it even harder to make out what it was. Once a clear warning that ahead lay a trap, was now barely visible due to a cruel prank. If ever I found the miscreant that had done this, I swore to make them pay a most terrible price. ¡°Traps here,¡± I explained simply, still looking around as I pulled the small child back. ¡°These markings are a warning for adventurers like us. Lend me that for a moment,¡± I requested, pointing at her staff. ¡°Alright¡­ just for a bit, right?¡± I nodded, before taking it from her. Cautiously, I poked and prodded on the cut stone segments in front of me. This state of affairs continued for a good half an hour and we made painful progress¡­ ¡°So¡­ you like want me to start singing again?¡± ¡°What sort of question is that¡­ can¡¯t you see that I¡¯m looking for traps? In this light, it is not the easiest thing.¡± She pointed at something in the darkness, ¡°You mean that stone bit over there? Looks a bit different from all the others?¡± ¡°What? You can see¡­ wait¡­ what do you mean?¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°There¡¯s a bit of stone over that¡¯s brighter than all the others,¡± ¡°Here take this, and follow me,¡± I commanded, passing her the precious glowing Zajasite as I headed off to where she had directed. Sure enough, my eyes alighted on a painted tile of stone. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be¡­¡±
You have learned Trap Detection (lvl.2)
¡°Told ya, din¡¯t I?¡± ¡°You certainly have better eyes than me. That looks to be the trigger plate,¡± I commented. The voices within sighed in agreement as a message confirmed it. ¡°Let¡¯s continue on, but let¡¯s mark it down on the map.¡± ¡°Where exactly?¡± she answered, eyes crossing in confusion as she placed the bright stone in the crook of her arm. She unfurled the map from her pack and studied it. Upside down, mind. ¡°Give that here¡­ we are here,¡± I said, pointing at a place on the map. ¡°Weren¡¯t you paying attention to a word I was saying?¡± ¡°That¡¯s pretty smart of you remembering where we are! Looks jus¡¯ like a bunch of straight and squiggly lines to me.¡± There had been a time when I was much like her, finding maps utterly mystifying. Now, however, thanks to my enhanced intellectual abilities and memory, I could easily interpret the information they present. Additionally, my sense of direction had significantly improved after spending a considerable amount of time underground. ¡°Well, if you says we are there then I guess we are¡­ so where do we go from now?¡± she asked with the smallest hint of annoyance. ¡°For the moment, one direction is as good as any,¡± I paused for a moment as I thought things over and consulted the map. I decided to amend my statement, ¡°Actually, let¡¯s continue this way until the next intersection¡­ then we can head to this exit, and back up to the surface,¡± I stated, stabbing at the map. ¡°Give it another hour or two before calling it a day.¡± I was more than ready to chalk up today¡¯s expedition as a failure. As if punctuating my statement, the girl dropped the glowing Zajasite, causing it to roll away. With a viper¡¯s swiftness, I dashed forward and scooped it up before it was lost in the dark slurry of the city¡¯s wastewater. I was about to offer some words of chastisement when I saw Larynda nervously pointing at something. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± she asked, the pitch of her voice suddenly changing mid-question as if in vibrato. Here we go again. ¡°What¡¯s what?¡± I asked her, holding the stone in front of me. A figure, as if in deep repose, lay against the wall. Armored from head to foot in iron and steel, he looked like a guardian sentry plucked out from a digital game. The sort that expected you to suddenly burst into life as you approached. Expecting a fight, I handed the Zajasite back to Larynda, drawing my sword even as I started to form my opening attack spell. Hungry tentacles of deep darkness spread out from me, seeking its life. Life that was not there. Too soon they faded, faded back to the abyss from which I had summoned them. My Drain spell had failed, which meant that whoever, or whatever, it was had already departed from this mortal coil. A waste of two points of Mana. Flummoxed and annoyed, I was initially hesitant to cast an Identify. It felt like throwing good money after bad. However, I did so anyway, revealing the truth of the figure before me.
Gersal Levy - Bulwark Sentinel [Human lvl.14]
Health: 0/238 Stamina: 0/42 Mana: 0/10
Book 3: The Traps [Part 1] Reflect carefully upon your memories, for when we gaze upon them at our convenience, they are oft inclined to present themselves in a manner most flattering to our own desires. - From the Analects on Quassian Discourse. I gingerly prodded the remains of Gersal with my weapon to make sure things were absolutely safe before I approached for closer inspection. Most of the soft parts of the corpse, the unprotected places, had been eaten, leaving behind a rotted thing best placed in the realms of horror. Time, the damp air, and scavengers had left behind a mystery as to what exactly had authored Gersal¡¯s death. And where were his companions? Why had they left him here to die alone in the dark? In my mind, it served more as a warning than a mystery. Still, I could not help but to allow my hands to search around for anything of value. After removing his bevor, I looted his roughly cut ruby necklace, with a tarnished silver chain, from around what remained of his neck. Lucky me, I thought to myself as Larynda silently assisted me with this grisly task, showing no signs of horror or disgust. This led me to believe it was not her first experience looting a corpse. Together, we found some notes and assorted coins of various denominations. I also discovered a red potion which, after confirming with my magic, turned out to be a minor Health potion. I gave Larynda the money and the potion as her share of the loot, while I kept the necklace for myself. It might serve as a useful gift, or could be traded later. Beside Gersal¡¯s corpse lay a cracked and rusted sword, the blade pitted and the scabbard rotted. More intriguing, however, was the massive shield next to him, which, in the dim light, I had initially mistaken for a trap door. It was a spiked tower shield, constructed from tough wood and reinforced with dark metal bands. I ran my hand over its rough surface, toying with the idea of taking it, but ultimately decided against it, since I already had my own. For a fraction of a moment, I felt something stir in recognition from within, but the sensation was fleeting and soon left me. Just as I was about to tell the girl that it was time to depart, there was the glooping sound of sludge falling somewhere in darkness beyond the sentinel light of our Zajasite. The sound repeated itself, becoming a promise of something dread. The hackles of my neck rose in response, the primal part of me knowing that danger was close at hand. I had become nigh immune to environmental concerns such as heat or cold, yet I felt a single bead of sweat make its way down the nape of my neck. This could not be fear. Must not be fear. Nonetheless, the next few words came out of my mouth. ¡°Move back slowly. Something comes,¡± I commanded somewhere between a hiss and a whisper, hoping that I was able to hide my momentary weakness. ¡°And when I say so, run.¡± It was not fear. Most definitely not. I was just being sensible. Behind me Larynda nodded mutely, eager to leave. With her better eyesight, undoubtedly more so perhaps than even I. Slowly we edged backwards, moving away from whatever horror was amassing beyond. ¡°We really need to be moving a little faster¡­ there¡¯s a big lumpy thing and it¡¯s getting bigger I tell you¡­ an¡¯ faster,¡± she suggested worriedly in a whisper. But this suggestion, rather than spurring me to greater efforts of flight, instead sparked a most contrary feeling. It made me realize my pathetic current reality. The great Gilgamesh, Herald of the Goddess, waltzing about in the sewers on a quest to kill mere rats. It made me irate and rebellious. I had stood before creatures of legend and prevailed, who was I to be afraid of what lay in the dark? ¡°Whatcha doing?¡± the little girl behind me hissed as I stopped, standing my ground. ¡°I would first see what stands before me before turning tail,¡± I stated with all the bravery of a youth who has been slighted. ¡°Dun¡¯t know why you can¡¯t see that oozy thing already, probably old like¡­ nah, that¡¯s not the point! We got to get out of here! Please!¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Ignoring her, I cast Identify into the direction ahead of me, willing the magic to find what had caused me to feel anxious, and not give me some useless information on the state of a random stone tile. The voices in turn soothed me, promising me victory with their sibilant whispers. I drew a slight breath, grinning to myself as it gave me the information that I sought.
Quiverings - [Slime lvl.18]
Health: 351/351 Stamina: 41/41 Mana: 2/2
An eager smile played about my lips as I drew my crossbow, placing a fresh iron bolt upon it. It would be interesting to see how this glorified slime, this Quiverings, reacted to fire damage. I swiftly cocked my weapon and fired an Inferno Bolt at the location of the Quiverings. A flare of light shrieked through the darkness, illuminating an alien yet horrifyingly familiar creature for a fleeting moment. At first, I doubted my eyes, thinking they deceived me. Before us was a wall of living ooze, a quivering, tentacled blob inching towards us. The impact of my bolt on its gelatinous body gouged out a sizable chunk of its Health, hissing as it burrowed its way into its mass. The monster emitted a primal screech that resonated with its fury. An extraordinary feat, considering it had no mouth. The Quiverings began to vibrate, its amorphous, slimy body rippling. Bright circles of runes emerged, slowly intertwining to form a spell construct that hinted at flow and communion. ¡°Stay behind me!¡± I cried out to the half-elven girl as I fired another fiery bolt, determined to interrupt its arcane incantation. The quarrel of burning iron smacked against the creature, releasing its potential energy, but I had been too slow. Despite the additional damage inflicted by my fiery bolt, the odd creature completed its spell. Twin lances of dark, watery sludge formed, spinning rapidly before hurtling towards me with alarming speed. Behind me, I felt Larynda¡¯s presence. The girl, despite having urged me to flee earlier, had obeyed my command and was still firmly stuck by my side. Were I alone, I could easily dodge the magical sludge coming for me, but I had to protect my ward. I had to stand my ground. That was my conclusion as I knelt and summoned my Mimic shield, even as twin balls of dark water mysteriously flew past me on a course to intercept the dark sludge. In mere moments, threaded vines of organic matter flowed disturbingly from my arm, digging into the stone floor. A wall formed of thick wood, banded iron, and steel spikes that blocked my vision. A mimicry of Gersal¡¯s oversized board, a tower shield. The Mimic truly lived up to its name. I was grinning inanely at this discovery even as the spell smashed against the new form of my shield, a great jarring impact that rattled my bones. I had expected to have been knocked off my feet or pushed back, as the laws of physics dictated before, but instead, I had merely been forced down to one knee. My shield was still firmly rooted to the ground, a strong bulwark against attack, but it blocked my vision. I needed to see what was happening. Now. Waves of confusion crashed against my consciousness as I felt something opening. For the first time, a new eye opened and the Mimic saw the world around it, and through it, so did I. Painted in blurred shades of gray, it was a stark picture of the world, no better than my own. No worse, really, even than my own sight, I realized. Almost immediately after, new notifications from the game momentarily clouded this new vision.
Your Entropic Mimic has learned Adaptive Defense (lvl.3) Your Entropic Mimic has learned Shield Form (lvl.3) Your Entropic Mimic has learned Absorb (lvl.1) Your Entropic Mimic has learned Perception (lvl.1)
I saw then that the Quiverings was writhing, its advance slowed as my bolts were still eating into and causing damage. Book 3: The Traps [Part 2] Disoriented by the extra source of sensory perception, on unsteady feet I rose. The Mimic shield relinquished its grip on the floor with a crack of stone, as its roots withdrew back into itself. It was a cumbersome thing and heavy even with my enhanced Strength. I started to step slowly back, but Larynda stopped me. ¡°Behind you!¡± she wailed emphatically. I turned to see twin orbs the color of diseased yellow materializing in the darkness, just at the edge of the Zajasite''s light. What began as two quickly multiplied to four, then eight, until a multitude stared back with a foreboding hunger. They were the eyes of a verminous horde. The sound of chittering squeaks escalated, gradually overpowering the background noise of flowing effluvia and the lingering echoes of the Quiverings¡¯ primal scream. Approaching us were creatures the size of wolves, but they bore large incisors and long, sinuous tails, instead of the canines and bushy tails of their very distant lupine cousins. Their bodies, covered in matted fur, carried the grime of the sewers, and their eyes reflected a bold, unwholesome hunger. As predicted by Larynda, the Sewer Rats of Al-Lazar had found us. ¡°I did not bring you down here just to sing a few tunes! Use your magic, damn you!¡± I commanded Larynda, who nodded and drew a piece of paper from her pouch, a magical Seal. She began to chant a spell of her own in a small and panicked voice. Slimes and bloody rats. Instead of fear, I felt anger and resentment, and oddly, a need to set an example. Me feelings blossomed into a rage that was echoed by the magic within. How dare they set such creatures against me? Entropic Aura beckoned to be released, the perfect spell to deal with the multitude of rodents that had snuck up upon us. I released the magic from within and let it ride upon the waves of my emotion. As the first circle of gray night spread from me, I felt oddly at peace, as if the universe and everything made sense. As if everything that was meant to be, now, simply was. The magic pulsed. The monstrously large rats squealed, squeaked, and hissed in terror as they moved away from me. The Quiverings, unfortunately, was not so easily dissuaded. It continued its alien advance, activating the marked trigger plate and swallowing up Gersal¡¯s remains. Bladed darts rained from the ceiling down onto the gelatinous, tentacled blob to little effect. Its body seemed to absorb the force of the sharp metal and it suffered damage only in the single digits. Still, it writhed in place, strange appendages striking in random directions as it searched for the source of this new attack. It was, at least for the moment, distracted. And so I turned my attention to the vermin horde, preparing to cut a path through them with blade and spell. Just as I was about to cast Drain¡­ no - Greater Drain, to reduce these creatures of flesh and blood to a bundle of zeros, I heard a quiet voice, a mere whisper. Pitted with the promise of the grave, it called to me in protest, and with it a sense of rot and release, of turning and of change played on my senses. Decay demanded attention. Surprisingly, the voices agreed in their sage wisdom. So, hooking my crossbow to my belt, I formed the rarely cast spell, my free hand running through the strange somatic gestures. The spell of rot and ruin washed over the vermin, the denizens of this terrible place. Almost immediately, pustules grew upon the giant rats as if they had been suddenly overtaken by virulent sickness. This was soon followed by an explosion of vile liquid, leaving behind cancerous weeping sores all over the rodents¡¯ bodies. A sense of wrongness came over me, a stark contrast to my earlier feeling of tranquility. Decay, the spell at least, did not work like this. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The rodents, instead of running away from us in fear and pain, drew ever closer, their number increasing by the second, even as more of their number were overcome by my spreading disease. They formed almost a living mass of their own, crawling over each others¡¯ bodies to reach us. Then suddenly, I felt a rush of diseased air as Larynda unleashed a spell of raw Chaos. ¡°Nara Sakullu,¡± she cried out in a tremulous voice that, nonetheless, rang out with notes of destiny. She had summoned the Black Flame. Black jagged lines of dark flame that absorbed what little light there was, rushed upon wings of night into the giant form of the Quiverings. The slime creature gave out a baleful shriek as it felt the unnatural fire¡¯s caress. I laughed in maniacal glee, glad that I had chosen to take Larynda with me. A weapon that I could command. The ebon fire burned at the Quiverings, filling the air with hot, newborn steam. Its health dropped suddenly, the unnatural magic of Chaos eating away at it as it was dissolved by the liquid flames. But the fires did more than just burn, for I saw that they emanated something very ancient, very ancient indeed, that resonated with a part of my soul. Primordial Chaos. Where the flames licked the stone floor and water, growths of vegetation sprouted from the stone and wastewater. Ghost-white, they wilted and died in scant moments, but as suddenly as they died new flames stoked their corpses to birth new life. Where there was death, fungus spawned in the myriad shades of life, only to soon also wilt and rot. The Quiverings itself was more dramatically affected. After the Quiverings¡¯ Health dropped, it soon rose again. Rise and fall, rise and fall. A curse of change was overtaking it, mutating its form and bending it into new and random shapes. The spell was raw Chaos indeed, as harmful as it was helpful. Our released unknowable magics mixed, and they created a warped duet that played in constant counterpoint. In this most discordant of songs, a melody of oblivion that resonated and echoed with itself, a harmony of controlled chaos sounded. I knew in my bones that the Quiverings could not be defeated by my magic or blade now. Larynda¡¯s strange magic had seen to that. A link was formed in this medley of arcane power, a link between me and the flood of vermin. And with this link came a question, a skittering mental screech repeated by a multitude of individuals. What do you wish of us? They asked, not really words, not even a true question, but more of a demand of their own. The many were seeking purpose. My next words were ripped from me, ripped as it seemed from the very fabric of my soul. I felt profoundly lessened. ¡°Be more,¡± I croaked in a voice that was not all quite mine. Such simple words, but with great and heavy meaning. Larynda looked at me in confused horror. But this was no one-way street of communication. As did my command fall upon them, so too did their multitude of lives fall upon me. There came impressions of a life of darkness, of swimming through watered blight, and of days fought with tooth and claw. Through our fell link, I knew now, with great intimacy, of their urge to survive and live, and knew, too, of their equal urge to rut and reproduce. Their hunger for all things. The rats listened. More importantly, they obeyed. Now they would be more in all meanings of the word. My words would become a catalyst for their great change. As if marking this moment, the game heralded me with a new message. To me, it was just a system notification, but had these low creatures been able to understand and witness them, it might have well become the start of their new gospel.
You have gained 1 Wisdom. You have gained 1 Luck. You have learned Entropic Aura (lvl.5) You have learned Decay (lvl.2) You have learned Monster Taming (lvl.2)
Book 3: Flight in the Dark [Part 1] Today I have come to the conclusion that those who are rich need only risk a portion of their Share and assets to become greater. Those who are poor must risk their very lives if they wish to become more. - From the diary of Lady Aelayah of House Salahaem. This world was slowly teaching me, in a manner most crude, of the limits of language and hyperbole. My communion with the rats was both the most intimate of sharings and the most heinous of violations. Familiar feminine laughter, that only I could hear, rang in my ears. It felt as if each peal eviscerated a part of me, and my heart grew heavy as I realized that I had furthered her purpose. Unwittingly, I had fallen into one of her traps. ¡°Welcome, false priest, to another of my temples,¡± came a soft whisper, velvety smooth and imbued with divine certainty. It was the voice of Iasis, the mother of monsters. As the laughter faded, I turned my attention to my status. A mix of shock, indignation, and a hint of horror washed over me when I realized my magical reserves were nearly depleted. Damn the witch who dared call herself a goddess. The mingling of magical energies, Chaos and Entropy, had drained more from me than I had intended. Without warning, the tide of scrabbling creatures surged forth like a wave of living flesh. Furry vermin, emitting shrill squeaks and menacing hisses, surged and swarmed. I pressed my back against the grimy wall of the passage and pushed against them with my spiked shield in a desperate attempt to protect my charge. Around us, the horde of vermin flowed past us, forming a writhing mass painted in hues of dirty browns and muted grays. Most repulsive were their tails. Sinuous, wriggling appendages that seemed to possess a life of their own. Huddling behind my massive shield, I saw it all unfold through the grill of my visor and borrowed sight. The scene grew more chaotic as the giant rats launched themselves at a colossal slime monster with savage purpose. They tore through its strange, gelatinous flesh with ferocious bites and vicious scratches, feasting upon the bizarre creature in a frenzied hunger. Their feast was not limited to the Quiverings. The rodents also devoured strange white growths and multicolored fungi, ingesting the very essence of burning Chaos. They feasted, and even as they fed, they suffered the creeping Entropic rot that devoured their very flesh like a curse. But such a curse it was, that it twisted them with each new mouthful. Before me, the strange convergence of magics formed the shape of a gift, or a blessing, that made the humble Sewer Rats more. However, titans do not fall easily. Despite the ferocity of the attack, the slime monster fought with a primal determination, for all life clings fiercely to existence. In this grotesque tableau, the battle was by no means a one-sided affair. The air was thick with the raw, pungent stench of primal violence and struggle. Some rodents were drained dry by barbed pseudopods that sucked the life out of them, others drowned in its mass, absorbed by the slime or simply crushed against hard stone. The Quiverings slew a vast score of the Sewer Rats, but the rodent''s victory was slowly becoming all but certain. For every Sewer Rat slain, there seemed to be five to take its place. And even in death, the vermin were taking their toll, infecting the slime with a black stain of corruption. A dark cloud that was slowly overcoming the creature, growing ever thicker and more vile as the furred creatures continued their onslaught. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Numbers do not lie, and it was clear to me that the Sewer Rats were overcoming the Quiverings¡¯ large Health pool and spell-granted regeneration. Slowly of course. We could do nothing more than huddle down, my oversized shield protecting us from accidental attacks, as the two forces of nature pushed against each other. Larynda was wild-eyed and breathing deeply, and I could offer her no words of comfort or hope. Though eaten alive by flame, both of this world and unnatural, and mauled by the many, it seemed to take an eternity for the Quiverings to die. But die it did, and with its death, a small portion of its strength was granted to me.
You have slain some Quiverings 183 experience gained. You have slain a Sewer Rat 3 experience gained. You have slain a Sewer Rat 2 experience gained. You have slain a Sewer Rat 4 experience gained. You have slain a Sewer Rat 3 experience gained. You have slain a Sewer Rat 2 experience gained. You have slain a Sewer Rat 1 experience gained. You have slain a Sewer Rat 3 experience gained. You have slain a Sewer Rat 2 experience gained. You have slain a Sewer Rat 3 experience gained. You have slain a Sewer Rat 2 experience gained. You have slain a Sewer Rat 2 experience gained.
A strange set of notifications, I absently thought to myself, wondering when exactly I had ¡®slain¡¯ some Sewer Rats. Looking across some of the diseased and broken forms of some of the vermin, I hypothesized that it must have been indirectly due to my Decay spell. They were the Sewer Rats that could not survive the change that the mix of Chaos and Entropy had wrought on them. That, and checking on my bloodied shield, saw that some of the rodents had hurt themselves upon its spikes. I dismissed my impromptu barricade, the one-eyed tower shield disappearing into me in a disgusting display of writhing organic vines. Larynda looked oddly at me, the question clear in her eyes as curiosity finally overtook receding fear. ¡°What in the Dark Lady¡¯s bouncy bosom is that?¡± ¡°Just something I picked up a while back,¡± I answered glibly, drawing my sword. I winced internally at her use of some of Elwin¡¯s more colorful turns of speech. ¡°Look, I know I¡¯m young an¡¯ all, but that ain¡¯t much of an answer is it?¡± she continued, looking miffed.. ¡°Perhaps not, but that is the answer I am willing to give now. We will speak on this later. There is a time and place for all things¡­ and that is not now,¡± was my firm response. Book 3: Flight in the Dark [Part 2] I imagined she rolled her eyes at me, but for the moment she thankfully did not pursue any further. A small saving grace. The rats, those not busy feasting, looked at me with their dull yellow, beady eyes. But there was no baleful menace in their gaze, just an odd, curious regard. They made no move to attack and a new confidence filled me. I hacked at a dead rat, its features stilled in the rictus of death, shearing off its tail. Still, the other rodents made no aggressive moves. But this did not assuage Larynda who had not felt my dark communion with them. ¡°Gil, like, we got to go!¡± she urged. ¡°We came here to do a job¡­ and we are not leaving until we are finished,¡± was my simple flat response. ¡°But¡­¡± she began again before I silenced her with a raised hand. ¡°Come, help me,¡± I commanded, gesturing to the plethora of dead rodentia. A great number of them looked like they had fallen far from the species¡¯ family tree. Many of the rats had scattered off now in search of greener pastures, and those that remained, like us, had business with the fallen rats. And so we worked together under the curious gazes of the vermin. Larynda was much less efficient than I, her lesser attributes and squeamishness somewhat impeding her progress. To her credit, once she got used to the bloody work her pace picked up measurably. I lifted a bloody bundle, tied into a bunch by rawhide strips, to my shoulder. Just doing a job, I repeated to myself endlessly, trying to ignore the wet, squelching presence. ¡°Time to go,¡± I ordered curtly, to which Larynda gave a small nod in return. She was, no doubt, tired, but from the determination I saw in her features, she was still game. We carefully made our way past the remaining rats, which sniffed and squeaked as we passed. Many had undergone bizarre changes. Some displayed unusual combinations of body parts, while others sprouted tentacles and pseudopods, features alien to their species. Among them, one peculiar rat sported a large mushroom on its back, enveloped in a swarm of spore flies. It was a surreal, random assortment of mutations. Together, we continued in the direction of one of the exits for what seemed to me to be an indeterminable amount of time. My heartbeat began to slowly settle as we made distance from the macabre site, leading my thoughts down strange tangents. It was amazing what the lack of digital entertainment did. It made me seek ¡®fun¡¯ down some very dubious avenues. Violence. The anticipation of it, almost as much as its execution, was staining my psyche with its shade. This was an education in human nature, an undeniable reminder of our fundamental properties. I hated myself for it, bitterly, and knew in a heartbeat that I would trade this all away for a comfortable couch and a welcoming screen. But that line of thinking was for those who never amounted to anything. That was the old me, I realized with a sardonic grin. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Was it just my environment that was painting my thoughts and desires so? Or was it something more sinister? That wasn¡¯t what I needed to think about, was it? The voices within agreed that there were other more pressing matters to see to. Convinced, I felt myself nodding. ¡°Hey¡­ slow down a bit¡­¡± wheezed my charge between labored breaths, interrupting my thoughts. ¡°We can¡¯t¡­ we need to get out here,¡± I snapped. Hands on her knees, she continued with her complaint, ¡°Wait¡­ can¡¯t go on¡­¡± ¡°Very well. A quick rest to catch your breath, but we can not afford to dally here. I will carry you if I must,¡± I warned. I estimated giving her two or three minutes, during which I closely monitored my Mana, noticing it was replenishing slowly. Pulling out a Mana potion, I had an internal debate about whether to drink it or not. The miser that I was, I ultimately decided to conserve my resources. ¡°So¡­ like¡­ what happened back there? And what was that icky thing that was a shield that went into your arm?¡± ¡°As to what happened with those rats¡­ and that Quiverings thing, your guess is as good as mine¡­ that was strange, I tell you that.¡± I paused, looking away for half a second while I gathered my thoughts. ¡°And as to that¡­ as I said earlier it was something that I picked up. A magical shield of sorts. Just like in the stories. Oh, and just as an observation, perhaps it would be best if you use a different spell next time. The effects of that black fire¡­ were erratic. That crystal thing that you did, for instance, might be a safer bet. How did you do that anyway?¡± I replied, eager to change the topic. From what I could discern from her expression, she did not completely believe me about the shield. My question prompted a surprisingly swift answer, ¡°I dunno, it just felt right. Like something I¡¯d done before but jus¡¯ forgotten like¡­ No that ain¡¯t right. More like hearing the first notes to a song¡­ and humming the rest?¡± ¡°I have no idea what it is you are talking about. Just keep in mind whatever that water witch told you about using that magic. Your Control, or whatever you call it, is important. Practice when you can,¡± I put forward, keen to keep things focused on her and not me. She looked at me as if she was digesting my words, running them around her mind before she answered. ¡°You¡¯re probably right. Sage advice, that. Need to work on the water stuff anyways¡­ got plenty to work with down here. Bit difficult for some reason¡­ maybe because it aint all exactly jus¡¯ water. Lotsa icky bits in it too.¡± Just as I was about to voice my agreement, I heard footsteps accompanied by the familiar clank of armor. There was also a distant murmur of voices. A small group was approaching, at least by my estimations, though echoes often made liars of even the best guesses. I sighed to myself and raised a hand to call for silence. The arrival of this new group introduced a complication I had little energy to address. With my mana reserves reduced to less than a third, barely enough to cast a simple Heal spell, I knew I needed to act. Unstoppering the mana potion, I took a deep swig. Almost immediately, I noticed the difference in quality compared to the last one I had consumed. A fiery sensation ignited within me, drawing the magical energies of the world toward its center and revitalizing me. It felt as though my body was opening up to the world around me, sharpening my senses. My surroundings became crisper, allowing me to perceive subtle details I normally would not. I saw the exact, even lines of the stone tiles, heard a drop of water falling from the ceiling and the faint echo of distant footsteps above, and felt the texture of every fiber touching my skin. Smelled and tasted the rancid air. Holding back the urge to retch, I smiled a crazy smile as my Mana surged. Whatever happens next, they will not find me completely unprepared. Book 3: White Lies [Part 1] And Her Herald, peace be upon him, was the one who said: Oh people, give greetings to those you meet, and give succor to the ones in need. Give prayer before sleeping and the gates of heaven will be open to you. And Her Herald, peace be upon him, was the one who said: Oh men of this world, fear the Goddess in women. I command you, treat them well, for they are in Her image. And Her Herald, peace be upon him, was the one who said: Oh people, the Goddess did not send me from the Distant World to teach you to curse people and hate them. Rather, I was sent to teach you the higher morals and edicts of Heaven. Do no doubt the word of Heaven, for that is a sin most grave, and your punishment will be burning hellfire. - An excerpt from the New Suras of the Edict of Heaven. The problem with echoes was that they made distance rather difficult to ascertain. As the sound of the approaching footsteps overwrote each other, numbers too were hard to judge. But here in this dark pit, surely people were a good thing? Or so I would have thought, were I still new to this world. And with that, I drew my sword, my Azag-Gishban, its comfortable weight lending me purpose. Summoning my shield to me, a massive edifice of wood and iron formed. It was a match to the one I had found beside Gersal¡¯s corpse. Like me, it seemed, my Mimic was capable of learning new things. Looking at the little girl, I gave her a nod but I couldn¡¯t help but notice that she still looked queerly at me. However, gone now was the greater part of her initial horror. ¡°If we could hear them, it is more than likely that they have heard us. Pray that whoever approaches means well, but expect the worst,¡± I whispered just loud enough to be heard. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me¡­¡± was her response, given in a tone that children reserved for nagging parents. ¡°Won¡¯t be finding me with my knickers down. Time to try something a little different,¡± she added as her expression changed to one of focused concentration. ¡°Now remember what I told you¡­¡± was all that I could bleat out before she began to cast a spell. Words, quick as a rushing stream poured out of her as she grasped her staff, the markings on its wooden surface glowed dimly before disappearing. Their arcane meaning, like with other spells I had encountered, of course, eluded me. Nonetheless, if I can even put it into words, I was given an impression of sharp, controlled flow. It was a mystery. And a part of me reasoned on an almost instinctual level, that if I were to truly comprehend her magic, I would be well down the path of madness. For such was the price to be paid for bending the laws of reality. ¡°Alright, it''s done. Ready,¡± she claimed in a soft voice. ¡°And what exactly do you mean by that?¡± Annoyingly she just shook her head before pointing down the walkway. I raised my visor to give myself a better field of view. A will-o-wisps of light were coming closer, a lantern¡¯s glow if I was not mistaken. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Being of natural flame, the approaching light was a different shade and hue to the purples thrown out by my Zajasite. In short order, the two lights pushed against each other to reveal our respective parties. Facing us was an unlikely pair, a slender man and a petite woman who looked to be almost diametric opposites. The woman was wearing loose flowing robes and a wide broad-brimmed hat that tapered up into a smooth cone. At her waist was a lantern, and she carried a wooden staff adorned with many strange fetishes of bone and dull glass. A wizard or some sort of magic user, at a guess. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for having the foresight to down the Mana potion. The man, in contrast, was tall and lean. He wore loose, utilitarian clothing typical of the local style, and across his lower arms and legs, the dull glint of riveted mail was visible. At his hips hung a lantern and two swords, one long and the other short. Both of them were sleeping for the moment in curved lacquered scabbards of smooth dark wood. It was the man who addressed us, ¡°That is Gersal¡¯s shield. Where is and what have you done with him?¡± His voice was flat and calm, but in his eyes flared a restrained anger. ¡°Where is he!?¡± shrieked the small woman at his side almost petulantly. It was the well-practiced tone of one used to getting their way through eroding the other¡¯s spirit. ¡°Mana is unquiet around him, I tell you he¡¯s the tunnel killer!¡± I looked the pair of them over, registering a vague feeling of familiarity. ¡°He is dead, and not by my hand,¡± I explained, eyes shifting from the woman to the man and back again, looking for any signs of threat. ¡°...And I am not this ¡®tunnel killer¡¯ or whatever you¡¯re talking about,¡± I added, hoping to buy some time at least. Even to me, the words sounded unconvincing thought it was the truth. As I did so, my mind wove the threads together, giving clearer shape to the recent memory. They were members of Gersal¡¯s adventuring party. The woman¡¯s name was Tally, but the man remained a mystery to me. I was taken suddenly by an overwhelming urge to know, and against my better judgment, I had already silently formed the spell that would sate my curiosity
Muram Al¡¯ Hazin - Dervish (Human lvl.15)
Health: 181/255 Stamina: 36/51 Mana: 9/9
Even as the spell brought to me the information that I sought, like a faithful servant, I hissed inwardly. Had the woman detected my arcane prying? Her angry disposition remained and there was no change to the set of her face or the lines of her body. Tally had not been able to detect my secret spell, either that or she was an accomplished actor. ¡°Where is he, you lying cur! I know you¡¯ve done something with him!¡± she shrilled voice warbling in near hysteria. She looked down and away for a moment. ¡°If it wasn¡¯t for the damn pack of rats we wouldn¡¯t have been separated. I told him, told him so many times we shouldn¡¯t have taken jobs down here¡­¡± she mumbled to herself, her voice barely audible. Without warning my ward decided to add her piece. ¡°Look, we had nothing to do with him. We ran into a big blobby slimy thing, and there were rats and stuff. I think that that might have been what got ¡®im!¡± the half-elven girl exclaimed. Muram glared at us, his anger simmering silently for several long moments before he finally exploded. "A Quiverings has not been seen in these parts for a generation. I demand you take us to him. I will see for myself the truth of your words!" His voice cracked under the strain of his emotions. Irritated by his combative tone, I took a deep, exasperated breath and pointed in the direction we had come from. "You''ll find him back that way," I said tersely. "You''re coming with us, to verify your claims. You are hiding something¡­ not a lie, no, but not the whole of the truth," Muram insisted, his face hardening with each passing second. Book 3: White Lies [Part 2] Maybe it was the exhaustion from a long day, or perhaps a slight drunkenness on my own sense of power, or maybe a mix of reasons I could not quite grasp, but I felt a childish urge to provoke him further. I had had enough. "The truth is, you abandoned one of your own, and now your guilt is making you lay the blame where it does not belong. I have told you everything I know. Do not dare to command me. I will not waste another word on you. Don''t test me. Now, come child, we need to make our way to the surface," I said, my voice calm but firm, designed more to needle than to soothe. Suddenly, from nowhere, Larynda blurted out, "Gil, I don''t think I can hold it any longer!" Startled, I snapped, "What now?" causing both Muram and his companion to jump. Watery sludge rose from the effluvia of the sewage, forming a large swirling conical lance. Though only one spear of water was formed, and its form not quite as solid for lack of a better word, it was an excellent approximation of the Quiverings¡¯ spell. ¡°Tally!¡± cried Muram warning, drawing his blades, even as the spell launched itself at the small woman, who threw some beads upon the floor with a crack. The twisting spiral of water crashed against an invisible barrier, splashing everyone in the immediate vicinity with its horrible contents. Larynda had now inadvertently forced our hand. I dropped my bloody bundle of tails, for it seemed a fight was inevitable, but not entirely unwelcome. Although I hadn''t used Identify on Tally yet, I knew Muram was not in top form. A fight would likely end in their deaths, granting me more experience. Despite my attempts at a peaceful resolution, fate seemed to always steer me towards violence. No¡­ No¡­ I would not be pushed, the ghost of a guilty part of me exclaimed. It was time to claim choice over my actions¡­ I would just use Greater Drain, to weaken them and force them to use reason. Yes¡­ that was it. That was the correct and moral solution. These thoughts and more ran at lightning pace inside my mind even as I started to cast one of my improved spells, Greater Drain. But even as I started to do so, twin flashes of sharp steel flowed toward me at different angles and my oversized shield moved to meet them, completely blocking my vision. I felt impacts at the top and midpoints of my large shield, and my sudden movement almost ruined my concentration in forming the spell. But the voices took up the slack, continuing the chant in my mind. The Mimic¡¯s singular eye opened and showed me the current tableau in shades of mortuary gray. Having failed in his attack, Muram had taken a step back, out of measure. I saw now with my Mimic¡¯s eye that the Dervish was wielding a pair of Zulfikars, swords with two points at their tips. A poor choice for dealing with a man in full armor. What was to be his strategy, here? Greater Drain was taking much longer to cast than was usual. Was it because I was already in combat, or was it because I was trying to do two things at once? These errant thoughts whirled in my mind, even as I met Muram blade to blade. Displaying remarkable agility, he danced around my tower shield and struck my blade off-center with his shorter sword. At the same time, he aimed a thrust at my face with his main weapon. The lethal twin tips of his longer blade lunged towards my face, but I ducked at the last second, turning my head to the side. The steel grazed the side of my helmet, inflicting a negligible three points of damage. I realigned myself, employing the steps that Cordelia had drummed into me to reset my stance and position, stepping sideways. Uncertain if it would work, I decided to use the Shield Bash skill. As I activated it, a familiar thrum coursed through my limbs. My heavy Mimic shield surged forward with unnatural speed, slamming Muram against the passageway wall and stunning him momentarily. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Filled with the fervor of combat, I swung my sword with the full intention of cleaving him in two, momentarily forgetting my initial plan to disable the pair. Despite being off-balance, the tall man deftly parried with his offhand blade, skillfully turning aside the force of my blow. Simultaneously, his other hand struck at my gauntlet, causing only a slight sting. Once again, the Dervish managed only to inflict minor chip damage. But, even as I was beginning to feel that I had the situation well in hand, I felt several shocking impacts upon my back and my eyes widened in surprise as each of them took a small chunk out of my Health. What sort of weapon would be able to pierce solid steel plate with such ease? This time, even with the aid of the voices, I could not keep the spell intact. Something of arcane origin disrupted its magical formation and the Mana used to summon the spell. The Mana used withered away, lost to the ether. I turned around, keeping my massive shield between me and Muram. Its monstrous gaze kept an eye on him, and I could not help the grin that stole itself upon me as I laughed crazily. Tally had summoned three orbs of blue energy that floated around her like wisps. Tally pointed her staff at me and the orbs flew at me. In response, Larynda intercepted two of the orbs with her balls of water, and where they met was an explosion of steam and released magical energies. The last one moved too swiftly for me to dodge, and I grunted as it impacted my shoulder. But there was something more to this arcane attack. After the initial contact, I felt something cold, yet hot, bypass the metal of my armor completely. An ethereal knife stabbed away at bone and muscle, and this time almost twenty points of Health were stripped from me, I noticed detachedly. Still, but a few drops in the ocean. However, my patience was at the end of its tether. ¡°Stop!¡± I shouted, my lungs bellowing in an explosion of volume that I did not know I possessed. ¡°Peace! I did not kill your friend, Gersal, or whatever his name was!¡± I entreated. In a show of good faith, I sheathed my sword. Most likely knowing that the situation was against them, the skilled swordsman warily lowered his blades but did not sheathe them. Likewise, the witch lowered her staff but nonetheless kept it pointed in my general direction. The difference in power between us was as night and day. However, I was already taking the time to cast a new spell in this small lull of combat. In an eery raspy voice, the magic laughed in the halls of my mind as it began to take ravenous form in this existence. Rust came forth, an oily invisible black lightning that shot out with a murderous pace at Muram. It ran across his whole form as it ate into its favorite prey. Tally and Muram¡¯s eyes both widened in shocked surprise as the Dervish¡¯s armor was consumed by the unearthly magic. He fell to his knees with a pain-filled scream, dropping his swords to the ground with a clang, as he was burned by his very own armor, the exothermic energies cooking him alive. The smell of roasting pork and burning hair filled the immediate space, overpowering even the stench of the Perfumery as he thrashed about. It was so easy that it felt almost like cheating. Larynda looked dumbly on, the horrific display turning her from a combatant into a bystander. ¡°It cannot be. Fae magics, the eater of the iron weapons of men!¡± Tally shouted in surprised consternation. For a moment, she looked dumbly at me before screaming her companion''s name. Blessedly, Muram had stopped screaming long before his Health had reached zero. A notification crossed my vision that I idly dismissed. Looking at us, and seeing that her companion was already done, she launched balls of energy at the pair of us before turning tail with tear-filled eyes to frantically run away. Still, in a state of shock, Larynda did not move to dodge the balls or energy and I had to block them with my spiked shield. With a small smile, though it did damage to the Mimic¡¯s Health I noticed that the faux tower shield was able to absorb the attack. Dismissing my shield, I drew my crossbow, placing a fresh bow and cocking it, and summoning new magic. Looking down its sights, I gave my target some lead before I pressed the trigger and let loose an Inferno Bolt. A small amount of Stamina and Mana drained away from me. Guided by the spell, the bolt flew for a moment before bursting into an incandescence that left dancing spots across my vision as it sped towards its intended. A scream shortly followed, confirming I had successfully hit my target. ¡°Not Fae magic. Not in the least,¡± I stated with calm surety. Turning to Larynda, I tried to snap her out of her stupor. I placed a bloody gauntleted hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly to give some measure of reassurance. ¡°Remember, they attacked us first. We are not at fault,¡± I asserted, hoping to assuage whatever negative feelings she might have had. It was a lie, but a well-meaning one. The poor girl nodded dumbly, taking my words for what they were worth. Book 3: Rewards [Part 1] For five generations my family has held back the tides of disease, injury, and death. Until me, we had always ultimately lost. Now, finally, I have achieved an unsteady stalemate and those ignoramuses would have me fall upon my sword. - an excerpt from the journal of Vincenzio Barbieri. The majority of all human conflict was born from miscommunication. Even an innocent man could be taken for a criminal because of illogical bias. This was my conclusion as I slung the bloody bundle of rat tails over my shoulder, sighing inwardly at the current state of affairs. Was there no such thing as a friendly, or at least neutral, interaction? Despite the recent tribulations, I was now faced with my favorite part of combat: going over recent gains, and looting. It was with a note of pleasure that I noticed that both my Rust and Inferno Bolt had increased in level. Two hundred and twenty-five points in experience and an organic gain in Intelligence was the icing on the cake. At just over halfway to my next level, I was pleased, indeed. As for the loot situation, Muram was a smoking slag heap, his armor still glowing a dull ruined red, and his equipment was unsalvageable, save for the naked Zulfikars that lay next to him. I felt no guilt at taking what I deserved, the swords would be worth a few coins, scabbards or not. Larynda and I quietly wrapped the fine curved steel, before placing them in her pack. The girl had recovered for the most part. In her, I suspected, was the iron that only a hard life could give. That, or she was simply adaptable in the way children were. Either way, it won her a pittance of my respect. Tally was a different kettle of fish. The Inferno Bolt had struck her lower back, making a cooked and cauterized mess. Her earlier screams testified to a swift, albeit painful, demise. I flipped her corpse over and turned away as I saw her face, contorted in a final cry of anguish. This was the first woman I had ever struck, much less killed. Instead of feeling satisfaction for having dealt with a threat, I felt an overwhelming emptiness. Tally had been a significant danger, more so than Muram, and I couldn''t simply let her escape. In a moment of introspection, I realized my weakness had led to her death. If I were truly strong, I wouldn¡¯t have perceived the small woman as a threat at all. It was a grim milestone. My magic hadn''t identified her, so the death notification merely stated that I had ¡®slain a human¡¯ for a considerable amount of experience. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Acidic bile rose in my throat as I confronted what I had done. I suppressed it with a determined effort, knowing this was no time for weakness. With a tight-lipped smile, I instructed Larynda to loot Tally for valuables. It wasn¡¯t in me to do the task myself. Though I was finding the entire episode deeply unpleasant, it no longer troubled me in the same existential way it once had. The deaths of others no longer reminded me of my own. Iasis'' words had not just taunted me¡ªthey had also given me hope and a renewed sense of purpose. I busied myself by pretending to be on the lookout for other threats. Oddly, my thoughts turned to Zariyah and I wondered at what she was doing as I was running about in the sewers. And then Kidu, Cordelia, and Elwin. No doubt the Rogue, Elwin, was up to some manner of mischief. ¡°This one was loaded, she was! Got a few bits of jewelry on ¡®er. Looks like a sapphire and a ruby ring. A silver bracelet¡­ and a bunch of these paper things. The ones you say that are money, like¡­¡± intruded Larynda onto my thoughts. I closed my eyes before I formulated a response, secretly delighted at being an opportunity to educate. ¡°They have value. Their worth is derived by the trust we place in them, and not their material value, like for instance gold. If the majority of people believe a thing to be of value then that becomes the truth of it.¡± ¡°So, like, what''s to stop ¡®em from just making more then?¡± ¡°Nothing in the short term really. But in the long term, well¡­ the people would lose trust in these scraps of paper, and with their loss of trust would also come the loss of their value.¡± She mulled this over, rifling through the woman¡¯s corpse before handing me a few notes. Feeling generous, I refused. ¡°Keep those¡­ you¡¯ve more than earned them. And keep anything else she had on her that might be of value. Isn¡¯t that staff better than yours?¡± ¡°You really don¡¯t know? Or you just testing me?¡± I shook my head in response. ¡°To her¡­ it would have been her focus. To you or me, well, it''s just a piece of wood with fancy bits on it. Least that¡¯s what the old biddy said. Ain¡¯t you got one? You can use Mana, right?¡± I was taken aback by her casual disrespect of the person who had introduced her to the mysteries of her element, but more so to her question. Would it be possible for me to craft one of my own? Or were there class restrictions on usable equipment? ¡°I don¡¯t know how,¡± I said, feeling foolish even as the words left my lips. ¡°Well¡­ don¡¯t know if it''s the same and all, but I can tell you how I made one, later if you like,¡± she beamed pridefully, chest puffed out and her hands proudly on her hips. I was preparing a snarky response but realized it would do me good. Swallowing my pride I responded politely, ¡°I think I would like that very much, Larynda.¡± Her smile grew even wider, and for a moment I imagined I smiled back. Book 3: Rewards [Part 2] The woman Tally had nearly a gold piece about her person and a few valuable pieces of personal jewelry. Though none of them were magical, they were pretty and, no doubt, quite valuable. Another job for Elwin. In addition, we were able to get two potions of Mana, one of which I gave to Larynda, who gave me a hollow thanks. She seemed a little out of sorts. Odd, I thought to myself, for the girl had killed before. How was this in any way different, and again, in self-defense no less? As we turned to leave I surreptitiously cast Decay on Tally¡¯s corpse, letting Larynda walk on a few paces ahead of me while the magic took root. If there was to be an investigation on the matter, it would help to cover our tracks. Luckily we encountered neither man nor monster for the rest of our time trudging through the dank sewers. The strain had begun to take its toll on Larynda and we had to often stop for her to catch her breath. I found this particularly annoying, as with my high Constitution, I did not feel tired in the least. Where we finally exited was quite a ways from where we had initially entered. Close to the western walls, it was an industrial area, and the smoke of its many forges and factories was most unpleasant. A saving grace was that leaving the sewers was infinitely easier than entering. This time, the Perfumed Men gave us nary a second look or even a quick word of inquiry. The bloody bundle of tails draped across my shoulders and the look in my eye might have helped in this. We next took the time to wash the worst of the sewers off at a public fountain. We exchanged only a few words with each other, our priority being to get some semblance of cleanliness, as soon as possible. The people here all but ignored us, even as the water grew dark and grimy with our accumulated filth. This must have been, if not common, at least not a too rare thing for them to witness. For me, it felt like I was washing away the memories of that horrible place. Remembering my communion with the rats, I shuddered and inwardly and vowed to never go down there again. Except for the part where Larynda unwrapped her headscarf to give it a rinse, the people paid us little attention. Then they truly stared, but a glare from me set most of them quickly about their business. Elves were a rare thing on this continent. It would be good to keep in mind that, even though here was ostensibly a safe haven for her, it would do us no favors for us to advertise her existence. Better to not stick out at all. A seed of an idea formed, though I doubted she would agree to my suggestion. Her human genes were strong, and if not for her ears, she could pass off as just another young girl. If I could use my magic and knife, I could solve this problem, albeit crudely. She would thank me later. I smiled at her as we finally washed off the worst of the muck, and she gave me a wan smile in return. The smell of our latest adventure still lingered but a good soak in a proper bath would sort that out once we returned to the inn. Our next stop was the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Thankfully, the citizens of the city of Al-Lazar kept their distance, only giving the occasional wrinkled nose and looks of disgust. Oddly, on the way, my experience rose by a single point for seemingly no reason at all. Was I gaining experience points by simply existing? Perish the thought. Arriving at our destination, we made quite an entrance as I dumped the whole bundle of tails down onto a designated marble counter with a heavy thud. Aldina, the freckled clerk who had taken down our details before and provided us with our map, looked positively anxious at the collection of tails. Apart from wrinkling her nose briefly at us, her manner was polite. ¡°Even if I had ten mouths I would have no words to say. You have already finished!¡± she squeaked in surprised disbelief. ¡°This was meant to take a few days at least¡­ no group has ever done it in a day¡­¡± Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°I guess we were lucky,¡± I replied without missing a beat. For a woman who, but scant moments ago, professed to be tongue-tied, she was surprisingly loquacious. I could almost hear Larynda¡¯s rolling eyes. ¡°It¡¯s been a long day. Just give us our money,¡± the half-elf barked out of character. ¡°Manners. No need to be rude. The woman is just doing her job,¡± I chided the girl. Larynda simply shrugged and I had to fight an urge to¡­¡­. ¡°Of course. Of course,¡± the mousy clerk answered quickly, nodding as she counted out our payment. At nine silver pieces, it was not a bad haul for less than a day¡¯s work. ¡°Thank you,¡± I replied brusquely, returning the map of the sewers to her. ¡°And apologies for my ward¡¯s manners.¡± ¡°No matter at all¡­ I can¡¯t imagine what you must have gone through to have finished so quickly. Since you were able to do it so quickly¡­ I¡¯ve given you a bonus silver. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?¡± ¡°A quick question. Will this go some way also to improving our rank? I believe I have succeeded in three tasks already with the Guild, but not exactly at this branch. At the Ansan branch, I have fulfilled several tasks already. Will that be taken into consideration? I feel that Copper does not suit a man of my caliber.¡± ¡°Oh, yes! Most certainly! I can make a request to check the records but it might take a good while. Still, keep this up and Bronze should be¡­¡± she bubbled excitedly, her enthusiasm clear for all to see. I interrupted her. ¡°Yes, but is there¡­ perhaps a faster way? A faster way for one of my potential,¡± I added, placing one of the silver notes back onto the counter. With our payment now an even number, it would be easier to split our earnings. Quick as a fish, her pale hand darted forward and the note disappeared into the folds of her puffy sleeves. Aldina pursed her lips for a moment. ¡°I will see that the proper eyes take note of this achievement,¡± she bowed graciously, before glancing at Larynda, ¡°On this girl''s first day of registration, too¡­ Hmm, if you were to officially challenge someone at least two ranks higher you could get promoted, if you were to win. You¡¯ll need an appointment with the Guild Master first though, to sort that out. But I would not recommend that, as our Silvers are exceptionally skilled¡­¡± I mentally chuckled at this description. ¡°Or you can do well in the upcoming Festival. That goes quite a long as it helps promote the Guild¡¯s reputation,¡± she explained. Inside, I was seething slightly as the woman didn''t quite grasp the significance of the money I had just used. Likely she just saw that it was a form of tip. I didn''t need commonly available information; I needed to know which wheels to grease to fast-track my promotion. ¡°I see, I was planning on joining this Festival. Where can one find the rules and information for this event?¡± ¡°The Festival will be held at the square near the Dome in two weeks¡¯ time. I can register you if you like. As for the rules, you can read them here,¡± she suggested helpfully, handing over a thin wooden slate inscribed with a series of characters for my perusal. ¡°If you can not read, I can have someone¡­¡± She left the offer hanging. ¡°That will not be necessary. I can read well enough,¡± I said with a tight smile. ¡°Of course. Is there anything else?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Larynda chimed in, ¡°There any prizes for the Festival?¡± ¡°There most certainly are! There are monetary awards for those who finish in the higher brackets. And a grand prize for the winner, awarded by the Council. And the acclaim of doing well will go a long way toward a promotion!¡± ¡°Sounds right fancy then,¡± cooed the girl. ¡°Oh, and when are you usually on duty?¡± I inquired of Aldina as casually as I could, wanting to make the very most of my silver. I was surprised to see Larynda shooting me a dirty look. ¡°Every day, save for the Urd Saba!¡± she squeaked in reply, playing with an errant strand of hair. ¡°Oh before I forget, there is a package and missive for you, Gilgamesh, from our resident Alchemist. Master Barbierri. I shall fetch it right away. Please wait a few moments and I will be right back!¡± She beamed at me before disappearing into a backroom. I mulled over her words and felt a vague pang of pity. Urd Saba in the local nomenclature was the seventh day, if I was not mistaken, and the girl was working a dreaded six-day week. Despite the freckled girl being slightly high-strung, I commended her manner, for, apart from wrinkling her nose briefly at us, she had been polite. Book 3: Conundrum [Part 1] Truth is only valuable to those who can bear it. - A Quassian Aphorism. I drummed armored fingers across the stone counter as we waited. If I could somehow arrange it, challenging someone seemed an easy way to get promoted to a higher rank. That was if my recent brawl with those of that esteemed rank were anything to go by. However, it would involve having to deal with this Branch¡¯s guild master, a prospect I was unsure of. We had been in luck with Larynda¡¯s registration, the ceremony of sorts performed by one of the clerks here, instead of the guild master. More importantly, if the master of this branch had interviewed us, the light would have been shone on Larynda¡¯s circumstances, which might have led to all sorts of questions being asked. Perhaps it would be best to visit later, and alone. But what lay in my hands was more promising still, an opportunity to win fame and glory. The Festival was a tournament of the purest form, without weapons or armor, it was a contest of raw unarmed combat. Here, I had an overwhelming advantage that the other contestants simply could not surpass. I was gifted with a unique form of magic. I needed no chant or incantation, nor wizard¡¯s staff or focus. My magic could be unleashed simply by me willing it to be so. Coupled with my enhanced physical abilities and my Mimic shield, it was clear that the deck was heavily stacked in my favor in such a contest. ¡°What are you grinning about? An¡¯ can we leave soon? I spent a few nights sleeping rough once but ain¡¯t never smelled this fragrant,¡± she asked in a slightly querulous voice. Almost as in answer to her childish inquiry, the doors to the backroom opened. Aldina had returned and she seemed to be struggling to carry a long bundle wrapped in dark-stained oiled leather. Redfaced, she placed it, with great effort, on the counter. ¡°This is from Vincenzio¡­ and this is the message that comes with it,¡± she explained, slightly out of breath. Rummaging through her pockets she produced a length of knotted velvet string. ¡°If you don¡¯t know your knots, I can read it out for you, for a few coppers¡­¡± ¡°Thank you, but that will not be necessary,¡± I replied with a tight-lipped smile. I was annoyed, not because of her, but at myself in the main. It is human nature to hear an insult, often where there is none. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. I took off one of my gauntlets for show if nothing else, running my fingers across the smooth cloth as I summoned the spell that would unravel the Necromancer¡¯s message. - Open later where prying eyes will not see - A token of our cooperation - Take the request for Milander Root and meet me on the morrow - Vincenzio - ¡°Well, that¡¯s an interesting way of reading. Never seen anyone read backwards before,¡± commented Aldina, not meeting my eyes. Larynda tried to suppress a giggle but failed, for the most part. ¡°Thank you¡­ Mistress Aldina,¡± I replied flatly with a small bow, now minus the smile, and in a tone that would invite no further conversation. I looked at Larynda, ¡°Come now, we had best return.¡± ¡°You are most welcome.¡± Hands in front of her, Aldina bowed at the hip. It was with some mastery of self that I succeeded in fighting off embarrassment, and the temptation to open the package immediately. I was thoroughly intrigued by its heft and weight. At a guess, I imagined it to be some sort of heavy weapon. Perhaps a double-handed sword, or similar weapon? With Larynda in tow, I promised her that I would just check the board before we left for the day. Her stomach grumbled in disapproval at my suggestion. I considered grabbing a meal here, but thought better of it, as I did not want to inflict others with our distinct fragrance. Looking over the various requests, I found what I was looking for in the bottom corner. With a payout of only half a silver, it was barely worth the effort of registering the task. However, Vincenzio had instructed as such, and for the moment I saw no reason to disregard him. Ripping off the task for Milander Root, I went back to Aldina and registered that we would be undertaking the quest. Our business concluded for the day, we departed from the Guild grounds. Though the sun had begun to set behind a cloudy sky, and the first hint of evening¡¯s chill crept in, the streets remained bustling with activity. It was only halfway back to the inn when the skies opened up and the rain began to fall, that the throngs of people thinned. The people sought shelter from the rain, but Larynda appeared utterly unfazed by the downpour. If my eyes were not deceiving me, the raindrops seemed to avoid her altogether. The sudden rain had served an unintended purpose, as it helped to mask our latest adventures in the bowels of the city. A saving grace when we were met by the help of the Begonia¡¯s Shade. As the rain outside beat out its chaotic tune and the serving staff fussed over me, I finally felt safe. It was amazing what a set of familiar walls and faces could do for someone. Even little Theo came out to assist, though she was more of a nuisance than of any real help. The women of the inn, alongside Theo and the serving girl Ninurta, saw to me. As they fussed and helped me out of my dirty metal shell, I spared a few words for Elenora¡¯s daughter. ¡°You are well, Theo? They treat you well here?¡± I asked, arms spread out as they undid the dirty straps of my plate harness. ¡°Doing just fine, thank you kindly! The food here is really good too!¡± she answered, smiling at me before wilting slightly. ¡°Though I don¡¯t like having to do the peeling and scrubbing in the kitchens all the time¡­¡± Ninurta shot her an envious look but remained silent. Book 3: Conundrum [Part 2] Not wanting any further drama, I decided to keep my peace with an awkward silence until they finished removing my harness. I left them, once I was down to my gambeson, but I reminded them to scrub and oil my plate, and gave them each a bronze coin. Taking my leave of them, I had a complaining Larynda take my package to my room and went to the male baths. The heavy weight of it would be good training for her, I rationalized. Before entering, I made sure to leave my foul-smelling gambeson in a laundry basket to be cleaned later. In the baths, I finally had a moment of privacy. Scrubbing myself thoroughly with a coarse block of soap, I was intent on washing away the day''s travails. There was no pleasure in it; it was a task that simply had to be done. I attacked my skin again and again until the water I used to rinse myself ran clear. Lost in this ritual of purification, I was almost completely caught off guard when someone entered. A step on a wet stone tile was the only thing that gave away their presence. Vulnerable in my nakedness, I found myself automatically in a fighting pose on the balls of my feet. It was Zariyah, wearing nothing more than a thin slip of cloth that suggested more than it hid. An enigmatic smile played on her face, and her crimson eyes were filled with an odd intensity. Closing the door behind her, she delicately stepped toward me with open invitation. Despite being truly at a loss, I noticed something odd about her movements, like a poor actress following a hastily written script or a puppet being forced. Her loose shift fell to the floor and there was a hint of whimsy and madness echoed in her footsteps. No words were exchanged, for none could be given, and none were needed, as she placed a delicate finger on my chest, tracing a line down to my navel. ***** She was the first to leave. It had been an odd affair, as I was the only one who could give voice to their pleasure. Our coupling bore the grim shadow of an almost masturbatory act. Zariyah, for her part, offered no sign save for the subtle tightening of her eyes and a faint parting of her lips, scant evidence that she had felt anything at all during our copulation. What should have sated left only a hollow echo in its wake and barren satisfaction once we were finally done. There had been no joy to it. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. I was at a loss as to why she had done what she had done. The timing was strange to say the least, almost as if planned or forced. And, it just seemed so random and out of the blue. Mistrustful of some hidden purpose, I went over the flow of events. Concluding with myself that she had given herself to me freely, I felt a moment¡¯s relief that soon evaporated like spit on a hot kiln. Though there had been almost no choice on my part, as it would have been downright rude to refuse her, there was still the matter of the fact that we were currently enjoying her mother¡¯s hospitality. No matter what tale I spun, I saw that the blame would lie squarely on my shoulders. I was in a slight bind as relations outside of marriage with women of quality were generally frowned upon. But was she a woman of quality? That was indeed the question, for she had been, in the not-so-distant past, a de facto body slave of two masters¡­ It had been a conundrum I had not taken into consideration until after the fact, when clarity of thought returned. Still, it was better to regret doing a thing than to regret not doing it. Strangely, I thought of Elenora. I had not seen her for a while, and I found my imagination superimposing her face over the recent memories of my time with Zariyah. Shaking my head, I washed off the last of my sweat and bodily fluids. Drying myself, I threw the towels into a basket before I left the baths, in borrowed robes, only in an ever so slightly better mood than when I had entered them. Looking around the first floor, there was no sign of Zariyah, nor Elenora for that matter, which was a small mercy. I did however find Kidu and Elwin enthusiastically enjoying a repast of skewered meat and vegetables. My stomach rumbled at the inviting smell, but I still had other things to attend to first. I asked them both to join me in my room at their leisure, to which I received a few mumbled replies, between mouthfuls, that I concluded to be assent. The heavy package I had received from Vincenzio lay on the bed, an ominous reminder of our accord. I undid the knots of the leather coverings to reveal a thing of most brutal purpose, which brought a grin to my face. It was a quest reward. About two paces long, the polearm rested against a backdrop of shadowed leather. Its lengthy, dark shaft was banded with ferrules of an even darker metal, providing strength and a hint of menace. A third of the way down was a simple crossguard to protect the wielder''s grip or to enhance it for forceful thrusts. At the lethal end, a short-bladed spearhead gleamed dully. Below it, a sinister spike jutted out on one side, while on the other, a heavy hammerhead awaited, designed to crush the armor of any foe unfortunate enough to cross its path. My initial guess had been correct. It was a poleaxe, a Lucerne hammer if I was not mistaken. Delighted and almost jumping for joy, I cast a spell to confirm its properties.
Shocksteel Lucerne ¡®Bellringer¡¯ - [Lesser Magical Weapon]
Durability 600/600
Book 3: Plans for Tomorrow [Part 1] What use is a good bow if there are no arrows to string? - A Quassian Aphorism. I had received the first reward for a chain quest, making it feel like the holidays had come early. Immediately I felt a childish urge to wield it, to spin it about and test it. To smash it against some innocent object in an explosion of delight. But such thoughts were short-lived as Elwin and Kidu burst into my room, without even knocking. I jumped in surprise. ¡°What we got here then, Gil?¡± Elwin began, giving me a cheeky wink. Kidu¡¯s face mostly remained expressionless, but I could see from the tell-tale tightening around his lips that he was annoyed. ¡°I warned the little man that to enter another¡¯s tent with no announcement is¡­ rude,¡± the big Hunter rumbled in disapproval. To condone such behavior would be problematic, but truth be told there was little need for such privacy between us. Still, a few words of chastisement were in order. ¡°Kidu is correct,¡± I stated, though there was little force or real ire in my voice. ¡°Come now, Gil. Got to keep you on your toes, haven¡¯t I? Now what have we here?¡± he replied, stepping towards the bundle. ¡°I knew this place was meant to be rich, but if this is what you get for bumbling about in the city¡¯s bum-hole, then count me in next time you go for a job!¡± The Rogue ran his hands across the dark shaft of the weapon, whistling in appreciation. Irrationally, I felt a small spike of jealousy. ¡°Now this ain¡¯t just any sort of whacky stick is it now, Gil?¡± commented Elwin, looking at me with an inquisitive eye. To this Kidu just snorted. Sharing a look with Kidu, I decided to share what information I had gleaned. ¡°I believe this to be a magical weapon, though of a lesser caliber than the one that Cordelia wields. Also, I have no idea in what way it is actually magical,¡± I admitted. ¡°Speaking of Cordelia, have any of you seen her as of late?¡± Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°Last time I saw her, she was having words with the mistress of this place... and since it¡¯s rude to eavesdrop, I thought it best not to listen in,¡± Elwin said. ¡°Being rude has never stopped you before. Tell us what you know, Elwin,¡± I sighed, exasperated. ¡°The big man¡¯s rubbed off on you, eh?¡± Elwin remarked. Kidu cracked his knuckles in warning. ¡°Nothing meant by it, big man. Just that our welcome here is growing thin. Most likely it was made out of politeness, probably didn¡¯t think we¡¯d actually take her up on it. Foreign folks like that, say one thing and mean another. God knows the big man eats enough for three, and I might have been drinking a bit more, and a bit better, than usual. But¡­ that¡¯s the thing with gratitude, is that it wears out right quick. A threat, on the other hand, stays fresh longer.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a rather cynical and Machiavellian way of thinking,¡± I commented. Elwin looked puzzled for a moment before responding, ¡°Don¡¯t know about that Macky stuff, but cynical? Hardly. When you¡¯ve lived as long as I have, you come to know a thing or two about human nature.¡± Though I wanted to, I could find no words to refute him. ¡°I think you should not do things just to receive thanks. Good deeds are their own reward,¡± rumbled the Hunter in dissent. As expected, the noble savage was a font of useless wisdom. ¡°Well, I doubt they will kick us out for a week or two. It will be easy enough for us to earn some money if we can get a few jobs under our belt.¡± I paused, taking out a few pieces of loot. ¡°I got these from under the city¡­ Elwin, these might be worth a few coins, yes?¡± He nodded, his eyes glinting with avarice as he looked at the jewelry. ¡°I can get rid of these somewhere for a half-decent price where it can¡¯t be traced back to us¡­ Can¡¯t help but feel like a bit of caution is in order.¡± Kidu looked troubled by this, so I sought to placate him. A lie would serve me better here than any awkward truth. ¡°I did not steal them. A group of scoundrels tried to end Larynda and me in the sewers. A greedy bunch of thieves, but I turned the tables on them. Let¡¯s just say they won¡¯t be bothering civilized society any longer! So, yes, they are mine by battle right, but that does not mean that other concerned parties would share the same view. Humans can be, well, emotional, when it comes to these things.¡± The large man furrowed his brow in thought, ¡°If these were honorably acquired, then why must Elwin exchange them secretly just for warm lander coin?¡± As I was at a loss for a response, it was the Rogue who provided a reasonable answer for me. Oh Kidu, ever the innocent and noble savage, why did the odious task of educating you in the wiles of civilized man fall upon me? With no small amount of regret, I began my explanation. ¡°Well, low-life scum usually have a boss, right? Chiefs, like, that they answer to, yes? What would they do if they knew I had gotten a hold of one of their tribe member¡¯s valuables? Would they not take umbrage at that? Misplaced pride if nothing else? Better to be cautious about these things to avoid misunderstandings.¡± Acceptance settled in, and the Hunter nodded in slow, reluctant agreement. Book 3: Plans for Tomorrow [Part 2] Taking a quick breath I moved on to the main matter at hand, ¡°Now, to the next order of business¡­¡± I leaned forward conspiratorially. ¡°An opportunity has come my way. I would have you know that I made the acquaintance of someone who will be able to reward us most generously,¡± I half-whispered for dramatic effect. ¡°The giver of the weapon?¡± remarked Kidu. ¡°Just so, Kidu! I am to meet with him tomorrow. He will be paying me another half a silver, just for meeting him.¡± Elwin looked dubious. ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s the strings we talking about here? You an¡¯ me both know that nothings free in this world,¡± the Rogue inquired. ¡°Well, that is why we have been requested to meet with him tomorrow to find out. Rest assured that, for the moment, our goals align with his,¡± I stated confidently. Indeed our goals did align. Any enemy of the gods of this world was a friend and potential ally of mine. If I could do anything to frustrate the designs of the so-called Divines, then I would do so. Still, I would be doing myself no favors by telling my companions of my true enemies. They might lose heart, after all. So I told them what I knew of the Necromancer, skipping the part of him being, like me, an enemy of the gods of this world. ¡°So, I was thinking that just the original crew see what Vincenzio has to offer¡­¡± I suggested. Kidu crossed his arms, his stature and expression making him look as solid and as tough as a forest oak. ¡°Why not bring the woman warrior? She wields a heaven-touched blade too, yes?¡± asked the Hunter, his thick eyebrows furrowing. ¡°The big man¡¯s got a point¡­¡± chimed in Elwin. I took in their words, closing my eyes for a moment as I played out a scenario. Indeed, Cordelia¡¯s blade would be welcome. The problem was the wielder of the sword. At a guess, diplomacy when dealing with a master of the dark arts would not be her forte. This led to me wondering, just as a mental exercise if it would be possible for my party to take down the Necromancer, despite the vast difference in levels between us. Elwin¡¯s voice cut into my thoughts, ¡°You there, Gil? Having another of your moments?¡± ¡°Just thinking for a moment,¡± I replied with a forced smile. The Rogue always had a habit of just pressing the wrong buttons. ¡°No, I still think it best that just us three visit Vincenzio tomorrow. Cordelia, bless her heart, is a little inflexible in her thinking,¡± I concluded. Seeing that Elwin still looked a little unsure I decided to add, ¡°And with only the three of us, means a larger individual share.¡± It was almost comical seeing the sudden change in the Rogue¡¯s expression. Just like Elwin, I too was learning the levers that moved a man. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. To me, however, the potential monetary rewards were a secondary thing. More important was the information that Vicenzio the ¡®Alchemist¡¯ could furnish me with. And any other artifacts that he might have on hand. With the things looking like they were smoothly in motion, life, as it always seems to do, wanted to object. There was a delicate knock on the door, followed by a pleasant voice that I knew well, but at this very moment dreaded more than most. ¡°My Lor¡­ I mean Gilgamesh,¡± came Cordelia¡¯s voice, almost causing me to jump out of my skin. ¡°May I come in?¡± We all shot each other guilty looks. Had we been overheard? ¡°But of course¡­ Lady Cordelia,¡± I answered awkwardly a heartbeat later. Radiance entered with a smile that could have stolen most hearts, leaving those unaccustomed to her charms struck dumb and mute. Cordelia, ever the vision, was the very epitome of classical beauty, her features as finely chiseled as statues from antiquity. Yet, it was precisely her resemblance to the goddess Avaria that laid bare the terrifying scale of the foes aligned against me. Fortunately, I had managed to sway one of their agents to my cause. This day, she was garbed in a modest orange abaya, a robe-like dress of simple cut, complemented by a light blue chiffon sheila, a headscarf that veiled her head. The fabric framed her oval face, enhancing the vivid emerald hue of her eyes. Though her attire was common in make, she wore these garments with a regality that made it seem as if they had been spun and sewn solely for her form. ¡°Forgive me, Gilgamesh, I hope I am not intruding on anything,¡± she offered demurely. ¡°No¡­ err, not at all!¡± was my hasty reply. Elwin shot me a vaguely dirty look. ¡°I have heard that you have encountered a few difficulties in going about your business in the city,¡± she started to explain, a pleasant smile blossoming on her face. ¡°Though, of course, they were not so great that you would not be able to overcome them, praise be the Goddess.¡± ¡°Indeed, praise her name,¡± I said automatically, eager for her to make her point. ¡°It seems that the goddess has chosen for you the path of an adventurer. In my wish to assist you in all things, I too wished to walk this path with you,¡± she added, displaying a small copper badge. ¡°However¡­ unfortunately, I will not be able to join you for a while. While registering at the Guild, I was given an invitation to assist a few others of the faith in their own aspirations¡­ and without me, their lives would surely be in peril,¡± she continued to explain, her usual veneer surety cracking for a moment. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯ll be joining a bunch of new adventurers for a while, is that right?¡± queried Elwin insightfully. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, his expression now a touch less guarded. ¡°Quite so¡­ forgive me, but I simply could not refuse them,¡± she answered meekly. I sighed inwardly in relief. The stars had finally aligned, and luck seemed to be on my side. I nearly jumped for joy, barely able to restrain myself. The Temple Knight looked down and away, a surprisingly human gesture. "I will require ten days to assist them, so I must beg my leave of you." "That is indeed a shame," I replied in a morose tone. "We would have been glad to have your sword at our side." I was careful with my words, unsure if she possessed some mystical ability to discern truth, like the Guildmaster in Ansan. I offered my best smile, a mix of encouragement and regret. "But do not be overly saddened, for this is only a temporary separation. We will be glad to have you return to us in ten days. I wish you good fortune in this venture. My thoughts and prayers will be with you," I said warmly. "As will mine," she responded, her smile radiant. ¡°By your grace,¡± she added, before excusing herself and gracefully leaving. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Kidu''s expression darkening, like a gathering storm. Book 3: The Storm If a man claims he does not fear crossing the Shallow River, he is either a liar or one of the people from the Sword Ridge mountains. At the heart of the ancient Empire, the Ridges stand tall, home to the Sara Sikuttu, the indomitable people of the curved blades, since time immemorial. Tough and proud, they are almost always short of stature and hold themselves closest to the gods because of their lofty mountain homes. Among these mountain folk, men of fighting age are known as the Labirukai, or Unbroken in the common tongues, for their martial lineage stretches back to a time before the Cataclysm. For over three hundred years, the Unbroken have served in the Praetorian Guard of the Empire, fighting in nearly every major conflict since the reign of the early emperors. They have earned a reputation as the most reliable, disciplined, and fearless warriors in the known world. The term Unbroken has since come to refer exclusively to the Sara Sikuttu who serve away from their mountain homes. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. For the better part of an hour, I sat on the bed in the dark room alone after my companions had left to rest, or perhaps in Elwin¡¯s case, to have a drink before bed. A storm had come clad in the garment of night, a screaming portent perhaps, of things yet to come. Or that is how it felt, at least, as I put up with its clangor from the safety of solid walls. Kidu had been, at first, surprisingly intractable. He did not, or was not willing to, understand that Cordelia was definitely not the best choice to meet the Necromancer. Elwin and I both tried to persuade him, and though he eventually relented, it was not without discord. I had to pull rank as the leader of the group. The giant of a man would understand in time. Throughout the debate, my new weapon lay on the bed like an open question. Elwin suggested that it might be a cursed artifact, but I assured him it was not. My Identify spell could easily determine if it was, as it had with the mask in the market, but I felt no urge to explain this to him. He would just have to take my word for it for the moment. On a whim, I decided to leave my room and go downstairs to mingle with the unknown, and to learn more about the city I had found myself in. I nodded to the stout barman Laman and made my way to the backroom to look for Naira. Just as I was about to knock on the door, I heard a familiar voice, muffled through the dark wood. ¡°...looking like that at this hour. This is madness. And, not a word at all. You should be acting like a woman your age¡­¡± Naira¡¯s voice chastised sternly. There was a bout of tinkling laughter before another voice answered hoarse with emotion, ¡°What would you know of the whispers, mother? You, who sought to chain me with bindings of paper and silk. Oh the irony of it all, for I am free now¡­¡± ¡°Your voice! it has returned?¡± ¡°And all that comes with it. I am a child of the storm, and the storm¡­. it can not be caged. Can not be bound on sheets of paper, stamped and sealed away to a life of humiliating servitude,¡± came the reply, thick with rebellion. ¡°You know full well why we did that¡­¡± ¡°And do you know why the Wind blows as it does, mother? No, I would guess not. It does not blow to stay in one place, but to move where it wills.¡± The voices belonged to Naira, and at a guess, Zariyah? ¡°Daughter, this path you choose¡­ you can not, must not walk upon it. You must bind yourself to another, and soon,¡± Naira advised. I hung about, wanting to knock but wanting to know more. More laughter followed, and I was tempted to burst in and confirm the truth with my eyes. "And who would you see me bound to? If that is even my wish." "The very one who freed you," her mother replied, her tone calm but firm. "I saw how he looked upon you, not uncommon for a man of his years, but more importantly, not many would have made the choice that he did. If anything, that is the mark of a good man, to rise above greed and desires. There are worse fates." Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. "But mother, that would be so... so... boring," came a retort dripping with disdain. "The man is boring. Everything he does is boring. He is a brute who does not possess an ounce of charm." "Perhaps that is true," her mother conceded with an exaggerated sigh. "But better to bind yourself to one such as him, a man of good character, than someone who is ''exciting.'' Believe me, this I know from the wisdom of years. And, as you well know, his healing gift is worth a king''s ransom." Though they were far from the truth, the words cut deeper than they should have. Rejection was ever the bitter pill to swallow. A tap on my shoulder intruded upon my voyeuristic episode. I spun around suddenly, a half-baked excuse already forming on my lips, only to see Elenora. One eyebrow was arched in challenge, or question, and a delicate finger upon her lips urged me to silence. She pulled me back gently from the door. ¡°I would have thought it beneath a man of the Temple to eavesdrop,¡± she commented, inviting explanation on my part. ¡°I had business with Naira¡­ I felt it would have been ruder to intrude and was just waiting for a good time,¡± I explained, feeling a little put out by her words. I looked over Elenora, her blonde hair tied in a loose braided bun. She had cleaned up admirably, her youthful features returning like fresh morning dew. Dressed in the loose clothes that were common in this city, she cut quite a striking image. Although she was a bit too slender and waifish for my personal tastes, I could objectively appreciate that she was an attractive woman. ¡°So you say¡­¡± she said doubtfully. She gave me a dazzling smile that caught me off guard. ¡°You can tell me all about it over something pleasant,¡± she offered, taking me by the arm and dragging me, unresisting, to an open table. A good thing too, for a few seconds later, Zariyah burst from the back room like a sudden squall. Her eyes blazed with fresh anger, and her tread was heavy with ire. She looked at me, saw my present company, and her expression turned to one of utter dismissal, a sneer marring her delicate features. With a haughty air, she crossed the common room. To the astonishment of everyone who had taken shelter here, she opened the door to the night and, clad only in thin cloth, stepped out into the wet howl of the storm. ¡°As a humble woman who has once sold her smile, I think that one likes you,¡± drawled Elenora, her tone languid and teasing. Though there was no venom in her jibe, a small flare of irritation sparked within me. To sell one¡¯s smile? What on earth did she mean by that? The blonde woman regarded me for a moment before her voice and expression softened with sympathy. ¡°What¡¯s her story then?¡± I drew a breath through clenched teeth before forcing myself to relax. ¡°Where should I begin¡­¡± ¡°Laman, darling¡­ something to wet our throats, if you would?¡± Elenora asked sweetly, turning away from me and resetting her smile. ¡°I feel like this is going to be a rather lengthy tale¡­¡± ¡°There is really not much to it¡­¡± I answered, telling her what I knew of the mystery that was Zariyah. ***** With a heavy heart, I told my tale. Elenora listened intently as I recounted my time with the red-eyed Hazagadami girl. She interrupted me only a few times to question me about a certain point here and there. I spared few details, painting the tale as well as I could with the brush of memory. As time wore on, I found myself speaking not just of her, but of my own burdens and sorrows. It was not the wine that loosened my tongue, rather it was the rare, almost forgotten comfort of having someone truly listen, someone willing to listen to all of my troubles. With my high Constitution, alcohol did little for me, save to quench my thirst. When she excused herself from my company, I almost pathetically begged her to stay longer. Was this, too, a result of an attractive woman''s wiles? I shook my head to get rid of such silly thoughts. I stayed a while longer, telling myself that I was reviewing the events of the past few days and that I was preparing myself for tomorrow. In truth, however, I was most likely waiting for Zariyah. But stock boredom eventually won out over shallow worry. With an annoyed huff, I returned to my room. Moments later there was a small knock on my door. Could it be? I wildly raced to the door and opened it. However, instead of Zariyah, I found Larynda in front of my room. I did my best to hide my disappointment and gave the girl a weak smile. ¡°What brings you here at this hour?¡± I asked. The girl fidgeted for a moment before producing a curious object from her bag. It looked to be a construct of circular wire arranged in concentric circles. Bird feathers dangled from the bottom half of its circumference. ¡°Just, um, well I know you don¡¯t sleep so well. Kidu and Elwin always say like you have nightmares and all. So, um, I made this for you¡­¡± Larynda offered hesitantly. ¡°What is it?¡± I replied, doing my best to remain pleasant. ¡°It¡¯s a dreamcatcher! You hang it up next to your window and it will make sure no bad dreams come, I promise!¡± she said eagerly. ¡°Why thank you, Larynda. This is a most welcome gift,¡± I replied, patting her on the head. ¡°I will have to get you something, too, one day.¡± She preened under my praise, visibly puffing up. Whether or not this world was real, there was no denying the link between it and mine. The Necromancer had alluded to as much with his explanation of ¡®Visitors.¡¯ The presence of humans and Terran animals such as horses also supported this. My very presence was evidence of the fact. This was just another surprising example. ¡°But, tomorrow is a long day and we both need our rest. Does Cordelia know you are still up¡­?¡± I warned. The girl visibly paled, gave me a quick goodnight, and swiftly went back to her room. Little did she know that Cordelia had more than likely left already. I had to be at my best tomorrow, and required rest to make sure that I had sufficient Stamina and Mana for whatever next presented itself to me. Generally annoyed at the world, I threw the dreamcatcher in the corner. Silly superstitions. Flopping on the bed, I soon fell into a deep and troubled sleep. Book 3: Blossoms in the Wind [Part 1] Nurture your own strength and wisdom so that trust flows effortlessly from others to you. And when one has become powerful and wise, it will become easy to trust others. - The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC. Chains of bone and bronze bound me to four stone pillars. I stood in a wide, dusty plain, beneath a gray sky, the sun a dull presence overhead. The wind blew through, stirring small tornadoes of dust that drew the eye. This place was filled with emptiness and parched with longing. There was more here than mere Death made manifest. I had the sense that such a trite word could not fully capture the concepts that had taken shape around me. I tried to move, but I was tightly bound. The limited movements I could manage felt slow and sluggish. Helplessness overtook me. "Put aside your burden, rest," a sweet, sultry voice whispered. "Surely it is better than suffering. Embrace the comfort of the end." My will began to falter, swayed by the voice. Yes, it would be easy to finally give up and rest. This was a dream, after all, was it not? Greenery started to grow around the base of the four pillars. Leafy invaders, tenacious and sudden, grasping vines that grew like snakes, tendrils of fresh life spreading across the ground to my armored feet. Yes, even in my dreams, I wore armor. For me, it seemed to be the only protection against the madness of this strange place. Life bloomed in ardent rapture, a rebellious statement against the finality of the dreamscape. White flowers bloomed in unrestrained fever. Something formed from a blizzard of snow petals, coalescing into a form that could only be called Divine. ¡°You have escaped my attentions for too long¡­¡± she drawled, her eyes hungry, and her voice husky with desire. Iasis, Mother of Monsters, had come. I tried to speak but my tongue could summon no words. She looked at me in confusion for a moment, an expression I would not usually associate with a goddess. ¡°Oh, yes, lest I forget¡­¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. The goddess waved a delicate, naked arm, and the chains that bound suddenly disappeared as if they had never been. Against my will, and suddenly free from bondage, I found myself kneeling. With a snake¡¯s smile, she looked upon me. ¡°Much better.¡± I felt something give way, a snap of a twisted thread. ¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked her, relieved that some control had returned to me. However, I could not help but notice that my words sounded distant, and not quite my own. ¡°Why, checking on one of my new and interesting pets, of course,¡± she cooed. With this, I felt the familiar stirring of a forgotten anger. My voice came sharper this time. ¡°What and why are you doing this? If this is a dream, then I am the master of this realm!¡± I shouted, my voice slowly becoming more my own. I scrunched up my eyes, and willed myself to wake up, only to open them moments later. The goddess was even closer now, the subtle musk and flowery scent of her threatening to overpower my senses. She drew a sharp nail across the line of my jaw. ¡°Be grateful that I grace you with my presence. There have been many who would have given their lives for such an audience,¡± she stated, looking me directly in the eye. In the dark ink of her eyes was a primal echo of a different time, a place where one could get lost for an eternity. ¡°And you, currently, are my most favored of all. I am glad that you have visited another of my temples with the mark of devotion upon your chest. For that, and the new life you have brought about, you have found even more favor with me.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I barked, my anger clouded now with confusion. ¡°Since times of yore, initiates have come to struggle against my other creations in their devotion to learning more of my mysteries. Fail and they become a sacrifice¡­¡± A scent of lilacs and lavender filled the air as the plants and strange vegetation erupted again suddenly, in fresh ardent bloom. A many-colored carpet coated the desert, but beneath it all lurked a few stray notes of rot. Wearing nothing more than an enigmatic smile on her sensuous lips, Iasis walked towards me. Where the Divine trod new riotous rainbows of growth leaped up to mark her passage. Kneeling before me, she traced the line of my face before looking me in the eye. Against my will, I felt drawn to her, and lust bestirred itself even here in this most strange dream. How I longed to wrap my hands around that slender neck and squeeze the life out of her¡­ How sweet it would be to get a measure of satisfaction. ¡°I skirt close to the lines of Concord in trying to help you, but then again, I have always preferred a more direct approach in my dealing with mortals. Think upon my words and your recent deeds and the meaning shall become clear to you,¡± she explained gently. ¡°Now will you be a sacrifice, or will you be more?¡± My thoughts spun, whirling before they settled and delivered the only suitable answer. ¡°The Adventurer¡¯s Guild,¡± I whispered. The Goddess¡¯ smile of conquest was infuriating in its knowing superiority. ¡°Oh is that what you mortals call it these days¡­ how droll. Now, I wonder how much my high priests are earnest in their devotions in this age¡­¡± she mused, twirling a finger through hair of liquid ebon. Book 3: Blossoms in the Wind [Part 2] Iasis frowned for a moment, disrupting the perfect symmetry of her face. ¡°Perhaps you are not yet ready to accept another of my boons. Instead, I will leave you with this little tidbit, watch the one who hears the laughter of the Wind. That one is no longer bound and will soon be consumed by her essence, and form a Calamity.¡± She spoke only in senseless riddles. The woman, the thing, sought to toy with me. I would not have it. ¡°Are you here to help or hinder me!?¡± I barked, summoning all my will. I was growing tired of this. She looked at me, her playful expression changing into one of distaste. ¡°Why to help of course. How direct you are¡­ how exquisitely male of you.¡± She paused for a moment, allowing a pleasant smile to resettle upon her face before continuing, ¡°These things are a matter of timing. You will pray to me in your most desperate of hours and, unlike the others, I will answer you, mortal.¡± Resentment boiled supreme in my gut. I would wring out more answers here and now. The voices surged within and I leaped forward to tackle the Divine to the ground. The world exploded in shattered glass and there was a sensation of falling into inky blackness. My hands shot forward, grasping at nothing but air as I broke free from the dream. My heart drummed wildly in my chest as I continued to thrash for a few moments. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the gloom and I came to the realization that I was no longer in the dream, but in the waking world. A message, as incongruous as ever, flashed across my inner vision.
You have gained 1 Wisdom.
Laughter soon won over my earlier episode and I found some measure of cathartic release. As my emotions settled, I wiped the sleep from my eyes and got up from the bed. Splashing some water on my face from an earthenware bowl at my bedside, I washed away the last dregs of sleep. Someone had conveniently left my gear freshly cleaned in one of the corners. More out of boredom and habit, rather than any real caution, I began the arduous task of donning my armor. It was a devil to do by myself and took me quite a while before I was done. I took up the hammer, testing its weight, and for a fraction of a moment, there seemed to be a buzz of energy. The weapon rested more easily in my hands, or that was at least how I felt. Perhaps, like me, the magic of the weapon had awakened. I hung it loosely from my back, the cover of the weapon acting as an ad-hoc baldric. It was heavy, of that there was no doubt, but the solid weight of it felt comforting. The weapon was ideal for smashing through armor and crushing bone. Against my better judgment, I picked up the dreamcatcher and hung it by the window. As I did so, I cursed myself for being a fool and giving in to primitive customs. Still, it could do no harm, I concluded. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. By estimations, it was very early morning, and with nothing to do I found myself going downstairs. Despite the rather early hour, there were people already going about the business of preparing for a new day. Naira, bent over and washing down a table, paused in her task to look at me curiously. She took me in and surprise showed for just a moment on her face for I was in the gear of war. ¡°A good morning to you, Gilgamesh. Are you already expecting trouble?¡± she opened. I sat down at one of the many free tables before giving my response, placing the Lucerne across my lap. ¡°Naira, I think it is still a little early in the day for that,¡± I remarked glibly. The woman sighed for a moment and continued with her task for another minute. Unexpectedly she put away the cleaning rag and wiped her hands on another cloth. Grabbing a pitcher and two mugs from the bar, the woman sat down uninvited across from me. She filled the mugs with watered wine and offered me one which I accepted. Naira took a small sip. ¡°I need your help,¡± she started without ceremony. ¡°Though I understand you have no obligation to help us.¡± I wet my lips before giving my reply, ¡°While I am under your roof I have at least an obligation to hear you out.¡± She looked away and fiddled with a loose thread of her apron. In that moment, Zariyah¡¯s mother looked surprisingly girlish. ¡°Zariyah¡­ she needs your help,¡± she stated. ¡°Oh, she does, does she? Have I not helped your daughter enough?¡± came my flat response. I had to stop myself from gritting my teeth. ¡°What is it this time?¡± ¡°I fear she is losing herself. Her new willfulness is not entirely her own. You may not know this, but she is gifted, blessed by Mana. But the spark of the One God that resides within her is of the Wind¡­ Those of that element, their path can lead only into madness. It is the way of unmoored freedom, without a guide or compass. Please bring her back and bind her to you. She needs an anchor and a rock.¡± ¡°What on earth are you talking about? This sounds like a lot of mindless babble to me,¡± I replied, taking another lazy swig. ¡°I see the way you look at her. You could have taken her against her will, but instead gave her the freedom to choose¡­ A choice made in just kindness, but a choice that has perhaps doomed her,¡± she explained further, her expression strained. ¡°You care for her do you not? I am not so young as to be blind to these things.¡± There was silence, a pregnant pause as she awaited my answer. I, on the other hand, was waiting for a message from the system. When no offer of a quest came, a sneer stole across my face and my response was harsher than it should have been. ¡°You think of me as some simple lovestruck youth. Madam, I may be short in the count of years but I am not a fool. I will not chase after someone who bears me no regard. That she has shown on more than one occasion.¡± The words came out almost as a hiss. ¡°Bind her to me? Nonsense, I will make no barbaric contract and perpetuate an idea that is slavery in all but name. This is a matter of pride for me.¡± I drew a deep breath, wanting to end the conversation on a softer note. ¡°I will help her if I can, but I will not go out of my way, nor make any promises I can not keep. I owe you both that, at least. I will never enslave another being for any reason. Now then, there are many pressing matters that demand my attention. You will have to excuse me,¡± I finished, getting up All she could do was nod, knowing that she could press me no further, she decided instead to try another tact. ¡°Do you know what it is that women find most attractive?¡± Despite myself, I found myself stopping as curiosity ruled me. ¡°Status, good looks, the usual nonsense,¡± I answered with a sigh. The woman looked at me with a wane smile. ¡°No, Gilgamesh. It is devotion. Think on that, for a moment.¡± To this I snorted, thoroughly annoyed, and went back upstairs to wake my companions. We had wasted enough time, and we had a long day ahead of us. Book 3: Dreams of Dust [Part 1] A true understanding of the martial path will forever elude the one who seeks only the journey¡¯s conclusion. It is in the depths of study and the intricacy of the reasons behind each step along that path that enlightenment and mastery are truly found. - The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus circa 520 AC. The first meal of the day was a light breakfast of fruit and lightly salted meat on saffron rice. At first, we ate in silence, our expressions dour, fueling ourselves for what was to come. But with his ever-rogueish grin, Elwin mentioned Ansan and our time together as slaves. This opened a floodgate of memories. We spoke of the little things, of past adventures and shared experiences. And of vanquished foes and challenges overcome. Our words danced on the edge of bittersweet nostalgia, each tale a thread of our shared history. The conversation was a gentle stab at, and poignant reminder of, our past. It infused the space between us with a quiet, unspoken understanding. The meal made me almost feel that we were saying our goodbyes. ***** ¡°I¡¯m saying this just pretty much for the sake of saying it, but like, you sure about this?¡± Elwin asked with only the smallest of hints of nervousness. ¡°I¡¯m as sure as can be. This is destiny¡­ I can feel it.¡± ¡°You know, I heard a lot of people saying this and saying that about destiny and fate and all that malarkey. Just saying, and just saying, mind you¡­ most of them ain¡¯t on this side of the Shallow River,¡± the Rogue remarked. Kidu placed a massive paw on Elwin¡¯s shoulder. ¡°If Gilgamesh feels this is the best course of action, then I place my spear with his. He has not let us on the wrong trail yet.¡± ¡°Yes, Elwin. If we wish for power we must take it!¡± ¡°Quick reminder though. Just so you know and all, that really isn¡¯t one of my wishes, if you¡¯re thinking of granting it.¡± I drew myself up, straightened my shoulders and looked him square in the eyes. ¡°Why were we made slaves?¡± ¡°Got a bad roll of the dice.¡± ¡°No, Elwin. It was because we were powerless. Would you have that happen to us again?¡± ¡°But a practitioner of the dark arts an¡¯ all? Really, now?¡± The large hunter snorted at this. ¡°There are things that the Wise Ones do that you warm landers would call dark arts. Ignorant, you are. Minds inflexible, like heartwood.¡± Thank you Kidu, perfect timing. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°But the little man, womanly as his words sound, may have a point. When dealing with other tribes, one must be as careful. Are they friend or foe?¡± ¡°As you say Kidu. But I have spent a lot of time thinking about this. I believe the opportunity outweighs the prevalent risks.¡± ¡°Sounds like famous last words to me,¡± Elwin cut in. Regardless of Elwin¡¯s trepidation, it was time to cross the threshold. I knocked twice on the door to the Necromancer¡¯s chambers and waited for a few moments before a voice called out that I could enter. Pushing against the dark wood, I could not help but marvel at how smoothly it opened. ¡°One sees you have brought company,¡± the walking cadaver of a man greeted me. Vincenzio seemed hardly off-put by the presence of Kidu and Elwin. ¡°You sure about this, Gil? I mean this looks dodgy as hell, like,¡± commented the Rogue sarcastically. I shook my head in mild consternation. ¡°Vincenzio has treated me well so far. Forgive the cliche, Elwin, but one should not judge a book by its cover.¡± ¡°Mild insults aside. Who are these two?¡± the Necromancer asked. ¡°Talking of covers, they do not look to be of the cultured sort.¡± ¡°They are my companions and good men. They are sworn to me and I trust them with my life,¡± I stated firmly. Kidu snorted in response, that simple act more menacing than if he had drawn a weapon. ¡°More importantly, they can keep a secret,¡± I made sure to add. The sallow man looked my companions over. ¡°Very well then. I know that Visitors have a strange habit of picking up the strangest of companions. It is part of their glamor. Also, one supposes that a few more pairs of trusty hands can only help,¡± he remarked offhandedly, throwing me a small purse that jingled as it flew through the air. I checked its content, noting, much to my surprise, that it was filled with slightly tarnished silver coins. The Necromancer looked me steadily in the eye. ¡°Payment for your time. Excuse the coins, habit if nothing else. One still doesn¡¯t trust those slips of paper. Also, the Milander, as you know, was an excuse,¡± he stated. I gave the purse to Elwin, who readily accepted it with his greedy hands. Kidu just looked on steadily, his presence a solid rock. ¡°Your master¡­¡± the Necromancer began to explain, only to be interrupted by Kidu. ¡°Not master,¡± the giant of a man stated simply, his voice a rumble of challenge. ¡°Very well, leader then,¡± Vincenzio accepted with a small smirk on his face. ¡°Requires power to overcome the challenges that await him in the future¡­¡± There was a pause, a slight relaxation, as my companions took in his words. I had almost expected the Necromancer to divulge my origins. ¡°Are you a Windspeaker that can see the path between the storms, to make such a claim?¡± asked Kidu doubtfully. Vincenzio answered patiently, ¡°One does not need the gift of the River to foresee as such¡­¡± ¡°An¡¯ more importantly, what¡¯s in it for you?¡± cut in the Rogue with a sharp question. ¡°We have an accord. A common purpose. Would it suffice to say that it is for reasons akin to revenge?¡± replied the pale man. ¡°Not really, not got any idea what you are talking about¡­¡± remarked the Rogue. ¡°I want his magic scroll to further my path,¡± I said quietly. ¡°So first, I must help him with a few things.¡± The Necromancer''s scroll was important. It held the possibility of overcoming Death itself, and I was certain Vincenzio has already achieved such a feat. The Rogue placed his hands behind his back as he started to wander around the workshop. ¡°Sounds fair enough¡­ but these things are?¡± ¡°The death of Kaila¡­ Kaila de Arancrai, among a few others,¡± was Vincenzio¡¯s flat response. I could not help a small grin steal across my face. ¡°What for? I have encountered that one already. It did not go well for her.¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°That should not have been a surprise. You Visitors are drawn to each other by the threads of fate. She possesses a power that none should have¡­¡± Again Elwin cut in saucily, ¡°I have a feeling that Visitor has a bit of a deeper meaning than a gal just passing through.¡± Book 3: Dreams of Dust [Part 2] ¡°A dangerous existence. She can control the minds of others. Deceives them to make them believe things that should not be. It is a power that none should possess as it strikes against the very pillar of free will!¡± Vincenzio explained in an impassioned voice, ignoring Elwin. ¡°Though one doubts she yet understands the true scope of her powers. With the correct application, one could topple kingdoms and rule empires. It is a miracle you survived an encounter with that one.¡± He took a breath and added softly, ¡°Perhaps there is yet still hope if Gilgamesh can resist her powers¡­¡± In honesty, not so much resist, but rather circumvent. Still, I knew in my bones that in a direct confrontation between the two of us, I would triumph. ¡°For all that you say of her so-called powers, I do not fear that one,¡± I exclaimed confidently. ¡°I will end her gladly if you can find for me the opportunity, I will smash her brains in with the weapon you have so kindly provided me.¡± Kidu looked worried, his brow furrowed in thought. ¡°I am not sure about cutting the thread of an innocent.¡± I answered the wild man diplomatically, ¡°She and her cronies were the ones who attacked me under Naira¡¯s roof. She stole my possessions and is without honor. Do you still believe she is innocent?¡± ¡°I see, then, she is deserving of it. Though she is a woman, she will find her fate,¡± he growled in agreement with me. Oh, thank you noble Kidu for your support, I thought to myself, doing my best to hide my glee. ¡°However, things are slightly more complicated than that,¡± Vincenzio sighed. ¡°She enjoys the protection of the Guildmaster of the Adventurers. That aegis is not so easily broken. The Guildmaster is a member of the Iasis Cult, that wretched order of blood and senseless death. He will need to be dealt with one day as well. Therefore, you will need the protection of a power equal to the Guild. To achieve that, he must become much more powerful, enough to attract the attention of such a formidable patron." The Guildmaster, a member of the Iasis Cult? It made sense. Iasis herself had implied as much about the Guild. It was, in essence, her modern-day church. He paused, considering the weight of his words. ¡°Becoming a champion of the barbaric Festival would be one such way¡­ though that would be no easy task.¡± ¡°I am assuming you have a plan for all of this? I am also wondering, you are powerful enough in your own right, why do you need our help in this?¡± I asked archly. Out of habit, he ran a hand through his non-existent hair. ¡°One does indeed, on all counts. As for Kaila, the Guildmaster, and the Festival, you will need to grow more powerful to stand even a chance at success. As for why one can not play a more direct part in all of this¡­ that is simply not one¡¯s role. I can not afford to draw the gaze of powers far greater than even myself.¡± ¡°But I can?¡± I replied sarcastically. ¡°By your very nature, yes, if that is answer enough. And, forgive me, but that is all the answer one can give you.¡± It wasn¡¯t, not by a long shot, but I had a feeling that pressing him would be just a waste of effort. Pressing mystic types such as him, was more often than not, simply unproductive. ¡°I can grow in power¡­ but that will require time,¡± I countered suspiciously, feeling irritated at all the steps that would be required of me to finish this damn quest. ¡°There is a way to grow quickly¡­ but it might be dangerous,¡± remarked the Necromancer casually. Sly dog, all of this was but the groundwork for you to say that, I observed a second later. I chose to keep my silence, prompting Vincenzio to explain. ¡°You will have to enter a Dust Dream of a special sort¡­¡± ¡°Gil, we were well warned many times of the Dust. Those who lose themselves in it are left as nothing more than broken men. It is a temptation that gets at yer mind, body, and soul!¡± cried Elwin in warning. ¡°That may perhaps be true. But, one senses that, with Master Gilgamesh¡¯s constitution and resolve, a single dream would not be overly detrimental.¡± Vincenzio left his counter hanging in the air for a few moments before continuing. ¡°And this would be no ordinary Dust Dream, but a shared one with perhaps the greatest warriors this world has ever known...¡± Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Did my ears deceive me, or did I hear a note of nostalgia in the practitioner of the dark arts¡¯ voice? I cricked my neck, feeling one of the bones pop. ¡°...the Dream will give you time to hone your skills. All you will need to do is to overcome that challenge.¡± Lust for power warred with common sense as I mulled over the Necromancer¡¯s offer. The temptation laced in his words ate away at my reserve. Surely a single dose of the Dust could do me no lasting harm? ¡°Very well then, Vincenzio. I accept your offer,¡± I answered determinedly. There could be no reward without risk. ¡°Gil, you¡¯re not serious. Gil¡­¡± was Elwin¡¯s shocked response. ¡°I will watch over you in this Dream, if that is what you wish,¡± said Kidu supportively. ¡°Then we are in agreement. I must make a few preparations. Take this time to gird yourself for this challenge,¡± finalized the Necromancer, his tone surprisingly anti-climactic. ***** I lay on a simple wooden bed, my companions hovering over me like worried hens. Mysteriously, the necromancer reverently placed a chunk of Zajasite and a well-worn scabbard by my side. ¡°What are those?¡± I asked, doing my best to hide my trepidation. ¡°Tokens of an old friend. The person who will guide you on the next part of your journey. They sacrificed a part of themselves for this moment,¡± he answered somberly. Why did they always have to answer in damn riddles? No matter, as long as I gained a few levels and skills from this then putting up with the mindless waffle was a small price. The Necromancer¡¯s method made sense, I justified to myself, the brain did, after all, process things many times faster when in a dream state. Add to that the magical nature of this world, then there was a very real possibility that this would act as a shortcut to power. ¡°This can only be done once, and never again repeated. So do not think of giving up unless things are most dire. Do not wake from the dream until you have defeated its guardian. Do you understand this?¡± warned Vincenzio harshly. His words rang true to my ears. So he did want me to succeed, at least. I smiled evilly at the thought. He offered me a purple concoction flecked with dashes of alien green. Sitting up, I moved it up to my lips, stopping just before making contact. ¡°Don¡¯t you wish to know where to find the Beron¡¯s Dream?¡± I inquired, testing him one last time. ¡°You can tell me when you complete your task,¡± he replied simply. He either genuinely wanted me to succeed or was a very accomplished liar indeed. ¡°Drink all of that down.¡± And so, I did as instructed. The fluid tasted of nothing, which was, in itself, disgusting and alien to my tongue. Forcing it down required an effort of will. A sense of relaxation washed over me, as if all was well with the world. Elwin and Kidu looked anxious. Odd, I thought, for there was no place for worry here. My eyes grew heavy, yet my soul felt, strangely, as light as a feather. Sleep called to me, in deeper notes than I had ever heard before. It entered me like water seeping into a ball of cotton. My last thought, as I walked the path of oblivion, was that I should have brought Larynda¡¯s Dreamcatcher. ***** I awoke gently inside the dream, walking through a field of mist and ghost grass. Each step was filled with purpose and direction, and as I progressed, the world around me slowly began to take on color. The soft call of birds, lilting and musical, filled the air, mingling with the scent of pine. A few more steps. Now I could hear the gurgling of a stream, beckoning me with its cheerful song. That was the place I needed to go. I walked on to the stream. I bent down to touch the crystal water, feeling its cool, clean touch. Above me, the sun shone, burning away the last of the mists. A house appeared, forming out of nothing, like a raw statement of existence. It was a squat construction of simple red earthen brick and a thatched roof. Smoke escaped from a chimney at its top. The door of the simple abode opened. A middle-aged woman appeared from the door, as if she were a character walking out of the pages of an old tale. Her back was straight, and she moved with a grace that would have put most dancers to shame. She wore a practical-looking light yellow tunic and a man''s trousers of an ochre hue. Her hair was cut short, for a woman at least, a chestnut brown with a few threads of gray. As she walked towards me, I saw a fierce aspect in her. A straight scar ran across her nose, just beneath hazel eyes that showed the first signs of time''s kiss. When she was three paces away, she looked at me as if I were an unwelcome guest in this realm. Like a nervous child fighting a stutter, I nonetheless found it within me to ask my question. "Who are you?" She smiled enigmatically, with only a sliver of annoyance tarnishing her expression. The woman drew a breath, looking around at this world, at me, drinking deep of the details before her. She spoke as if singing, the words flowing together in an accent I had never heard before, in a language I had never known, yet now understood on an almost intrinsic level. "My name is Fen¡­ and it seems the world has forgotten me too soon." Book 3: Epilogue All around him was darkness, but the smells and sounds of the world painted a vivid picture, a tapestry woven since his first squeaks and chirps. This was the world he had always known. A sharp bite pierced his thick, matted fur. It was a new parasite, one of many that plagued him. Instinctively, he twisted to investigate with his nose, but the nuisance was just out of reach, nestled behind his neck. Chittering angrily, he rubbed himself against a rough stone wall, seeking relief. Suddenly, his keen ears caught a sound distinct from the myriad background noises. An alien noise, the steps of something foreign to this place. It was the gait of a creature either extremely foolish or so powerful it knew no fear. A call sounded, a chorus of chitterings and released musk summoning his brothers and sisters to converge upon the invaders. Excitement surged through him, his verminous heart beating fast as he began to salivate. His front incisors clicked to the rhythm of the hunt. First, a trickle of rodent flesh joined him, and together they scampered across the stone floor or swam through the filthy waters of their home. He had grown a powerful new tail, asserting his dominance over those less advanced in the blessed Change, helping him swim. Long and muscular, it was no longer than a rat¡¯s tail, but had mutated, ending in a serpent¡¯s head that rattled and hissed. Those blessed with a mutated tail were held in higher regard, perceived to be closer to the Father for reasons unknown to even the oldest of the brood. He noted others showing deeper signs of the Change. One rat glowed with a sickly green bioluminescence, bright enough for him to observe the myriad of compound eyes along its flanks and hindquarters, despite his poor eyesight. His musk glands released the scent of frenzy, urging the lesser rats around him to greater speed. The trickle grew to a stream as more rats joined, galvanized by their leader''s scent. He felt a stirring akin to when he first joined with a fat, healthy female, the fever-lust threatening to overtake his reason. He focused, letting it drive but not control him. The stream grew into a river, then a flood, as he and his brethren rushed towards their prey. The hunger, the great gift of the Father, demanded to be sated. It demanded an end. Standing on two legs, the intruders were tall like the vermin¡¯s creator. They had false skin and fur, a parody of the Father¡¯s perfection. All the intruders wielded flames, holding them up as a challenge against the darkness. The rats, a multitude, took up the challenge, bearing down upon them. The vile creatures, an angry, chittering wave of voracious rodents, crashed upon their prey. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Despite their ravenous assault, they broke upon one of the tall ones, a giant of hard skin that gleamed and bore a long, sharp claw. It swept with blows that sundered rats as if they were paper, cleaving through their ranks like a maddened bull. Another tall one, willowy, summoned a ball of vine light that coursed through the dirty water, scalding flesh and killing the giant mutated rats by the dozen. Lesser animals would have broken, unwilling to risk their survival against such hard targets. But these rats were of a different breed. They had a single driving force instilled in them since the first Change: a need to kill, to sacrifice others and feast upon their remains. To bring low all that was before them as offerings for the Grand Purpose. The plague of vermin poured unceasingly over the tall ones, surrounding and enveloping them from all angles. One of the tall ones cried out, knelt, and began to mutter as its packmates protected it. They smashed and bludgeoned the rats within their weapon''s reach, clearing a space. Moments later, a semitranslucent shell formed over them, shielding them from the vermin that bit and clawed at the barrier. The tall ones grew in confidence, the barrier a visible sign of their superiority. Their scent was steady and sure, like an alpha or first broodmother. Until the first spidery cracks appeared, spreading like the first flaws of lake ice in spring. The rats were tenacious. It was in their nature. The tall ones¡¯ scent changed to a heady musk of desperation and panic, throwing the rats into a redoubled frenzy. Tooth and claw continued to attack the barrier, the hunger driving them to seek the sweet flesh within. The barrier shattered in a tinkling of expended energy. This time, the rats buried the tall ones in a flood of furred bodies. The one with the long claw fell, bowled over by the storm. Sharp incisors tore at leather straps before ripping off the hard, shiny scales. Finally, they bit into the yielding flesh. The screams of the tall ones were barely heard over the excited frenzy of the plague. It was a banquet, a festival of iron blood and exquisite flesh. The serpent-tailed rat fed with his brethren, gulping down the soft bits first, as was his right. His serpent hissed a warning against others who sought to challenge him. Finally sated, he felt it: an electric thrill ran through him, a sign he was becoming closer to the Father¡¯s image. His limbs grew longer, straighter. His muscles bulked up, and the bones of his spine began to Change. His mind grew in clarity, with new thoughts that both excited and troubled him. For half a breath, he felt he could understand the universe and his place in it. All things must end. Another great Change was spurred by this thought. His throat began to warp and mutate. A strange desire to give voice to his purpose. Like the first blessed twenty, the mantle of destiny had fallen upon him. He rasped, a raw, unfamiliar sound, forced from his throat. It was barely a word, more simply a guttural cry. But, it was potent in meaning, giving glory to their creator. It was the first word of his new kind. Book 3: Glossary & Dramatis Personae Abas Yar - An old man and Beastmaster of the Ravens. Gilgamesh cures Abas Yar¡¯s bad back, which also restores him to good health, causing the Beastmaster to venerate Gilgamesh. [The] Adventurer¡¯s Guild - An organization specializing in slaying monsters, gathering rare and precious materials, conquering dungeons and protecting the weak. They are rivals of the Mercenary Guild. Ahmed Alim - A Council Guard and an officer in the City Guard. Gilgamesh bribes him to earn his favor, after his fight with Hashmal. Alchemy - The creation of wondrous potions and elixirs. The making of such concoctions works on the same principles of casting magic spells, replacing chants and rituals with recipes and formulae to achieve specific results. Like spellcasting, alchemy requires Mana. Aldina - A clerk in the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Al-Lazar - Also known as the City of the Dust. It is here that the narcotic Dust is grown and exported around the world. Ankhset Ulgen - An old woman and Water Mage, or Water Seeker, of the Ravens. She is the mother of Aizere and Erasyl. She gifts Larynda with a scroll of Water Ball and begins instructing her in the path of Water. Arif Rashid - A Sewage Worker and member of the Perfurmers. He tries to extort some money from Gilgamesh. Arimea Lostariot - An elven noble. Failing to kill Larynda, the Daughter of Chaos, she is charged by her king to serve their summoned Champion. Azag-Gishban - A weapon that, depending on how it is held, can be used as both a hammer and a sword. Gilgamesh receives one from Khalam, the guard master, of the Ravens for saving his son. [The] Begonia¡¯s Shade - The inn where Gilgamesh and his companions set up a base of operations in Al-Lazar. It is run and owned by Naira, the mother of Zariyah. Basilio Sanseverino - A warrior in Kaila¡¯s party. Beastkin - A race of demihumans that have animalistic aspects. Beron de Laney - Author of ¡®The Fanciful Travels¡¯, an account of his travels and adventures across the world of Gesthe. Gilgamesh was able to acquire a copy of it during his travels. Beron¡¯s Dream - A species of bioluminescent lichen that grows underground. It is a prized reagent for alchemic concoctions. Catalina - Mother of Dumuzi. Her husband was killed defending the caravan from an attack by a group of raiders led by Tarkhan Aigiam. Nearly fatally wounded in the same attack, she is healed by Gilgamesh and eventually becomes his lover. Gilgamesh leaves her once he reaches Al-Lazar. Church of Her Divine Radiance - The Church dedicated to the worship of the goddess Avaria. They are banned from creating a temple in the City of Al-Lazar, they instead have set up in the port town of Narilmu. City Guard - The police force of the City of Al-Lazar. They are employed directly by the Council, the governing body of Al-Lazar. Cordelia de Aserac - Temple Knight of the Order of the Penitent Heart. She was chosen to be part of the mission to capture Gilgamesh, as her father¡¯s lands bordered the Grass Sea. She swears fealty to Gilgamesh as the herald of Avaria and devotes herself to him. She wields the magical longsword ¡®The Weight of Justice¡¯. She later leaves Gilgamesh temporarily to help a group of new adventurers. [The] Council - The governing body of the city-state of Al-Lazar. Their members are drawn from the leading Holder families of the city. [The] Crows - A trade caravan led by Gelgor Badawi. They agree to join with the Ravens to travel together to Al-Lazar. Dust - A dangerous narcotic substance, also known as Faerie Powder, Stardust, and the Call of Oblivion, among many others. The drug is the pollen of the Asixum plant that grows only upon the shoreline near the city of Al-Lazar. In small quantities, it can improve the health and mental faculties of its users, but can grow to be extremely addictive. The most interesting property of the drug is that it allows the user to experience lucid dreams. It is the source of power and wealth for the city-state of Al-Lazar. Elenora - Theophania¡¯s sick mother. Gilgamesh heals her completely with his magic. Elwin Tucker - Gilgamesh meets Elwin in the slave pits of Ansan. He professed to be a Forester, but is, in fact, a Rogue. He leaves the group before Gilgamesh journeys with Laes, ostensibly to try and reunite with his family. Elwin is captured and caught by the agents of the Church. He is reunited with Gilgamesh after Tarkan¡¯s failed raid. Once was known by the moniker ¡®The Luck¡¯ when he was associated with the Bulls of Heaven. Ezlas - An enforcer of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. [The] Feathered Gate - One of the main gates leading into the city of Al-Lazar. The gates are said to have been constructed by dwarves in ancient times. Fen Vaigorus - Author of the Living Sword. Festival of the Undrawn - A martial arts festival held in the city of Al-Lazar. [The] Flower Quarter - The pleasure district of Al-Lazar. Gelgor Badawi - Caravan leader of the Company of the Crows. He is a very fat man and seems to enjoy a friendly relationship with Laes. Gersal Levy - An adventurer. Gilgamesh finds his corpse in the sewers of Al-Lazar. Giants - A race of humanoids famed for their great works of construction. They do not speak to other non-giants, instead employing sign language to communicate. They are said to have constructed the Green Road and the walls of Al-Lazar. Gideon de Salavia - Author of the ¡®On the Prophecy of the Gods¡¯ and the ¡®The Human Question.¡¯ Ghostwalker Crab - A monstrous species of white crabs that live near the precious bodies of water under the desert of the Whispering Wastes. Gilgamesh kills them for food. Glod - The leader of a group of Troglodytes. He is a ranger. Guy - An adventurer. He flirts with Zariyah and tries to provoke Gilgamesh into a fight. He is ultimately cowed when Ezlas intervenes. Stolen novel; please report. [The] Green Road - Known also as the Samasutum, it is an unnaturally straight river that only appears after the Weeping. The Green Road cuts through a harsh desert known as the Whispering Wastes. [The] Grand Bazaar - A place where a large amount of trade is conducted in the city of Al-Lazar. All sorts of goods are sold here, from magical items to exotic beasts. It is located in the Merchant¡¯s Quarter. Guardian - The giant worms that live in the Whispering Wastes. One of them brought Gilgamesh to an underground temple of Iasis. Hashmal - A Beastkin Savage claw. He starts a fight with Gilgamesh and loses. He is then arrested by the City Guard for causing trouble. Hazigadami - A people cursed with red eyes. They worship the One God. They are persecuted throughout the known world for causing the last Cataclysm. They have no land to call their own. Iasis - A Goddess. She is known through much of the known world as the Mother of Monsters. Iron Golem - An arcane construct forged by the servants of Iasis in ages past. Gilgamesh defeats it by using his Rust spell. Kaila de Arancrai - An Enchantress of the Silver rank. Gilgamesh is able to pierce her illusions with his Identify spell and humiliatingly defeats her party in the Begonia¡¯s Shade. Karilla - A type of monstrous lizard that Gilgamesh encountered and defeated in the Sainba forest. Khalam - The Guard Master of the Ravens. Kidu Kreshin - A man of giant proportions. He is a peerless warrior and Hunter of the Three Bears clan from the far North, or the Kar-Kaphon. He is a loyal companion of our protagonist. Gilgamesh encounters Kidu in the slave pits of Ansan. Gilgamesh learns that he secretly detests violence. Laes Harevor - Leader of the Ravens, the caravan that is taking Gilgamesh to the city of Al-Lazar. He is a friend of Gelgor, the leader of another trade caravan, the Crows. Laman Al-Qurashi - A barman in the Begonia¡¯s Shade. He is much more timid and weaker than he appears to be. Larynda - A small half-elven girl and Hamsa¡¯s adopted daughter. She is innately gifted with the magic of Chaos and learns how to control the element of water from Ankhset. Lumashitu - A creature resembling a triceratops, but with six legs and a single horn on its snout. It has a shell like a tortoise and a long, spiky tail. [The] Living Sword - A treatise on how a warrior should train in the use of a sword, and a commentary on martial arts in general. Written by Fen Vaigorus. Lorsan - Former Swordmaster of the elven court. He has been crippled after his fight with Hamsa and is a shadow of his former self. Ma¡¯at - Meaning path, way, or fate. It has a close meaning to the word Dao from Chinese Taoism. Manticore - A near-mythical creature. A chimeric creature, it has the body of a lion, leathery bat-like wings, and a serpent for its tail. Manzaza Shiptu - A magical scroll that imparts a spell onto the user. Mer - A race of underwater humanoids. They are currently at war with the city-state of Al-Lazar, limiting the city¡¯s ability to export their main product, the Dust. Perversely, their flesh is rumored to be a delicacy enjoyed by the citizens of Al-Lazar. [The] Mercenary¡¯s Guild - Hired professional soldiers. They are rivals to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Mercy - The name of the mysterious, powerful woman that stalks the Silk Quarter preying on the weak and defenseless. With the aid of Elwin, Gilgamesh is able to drive her off and protect Theophania. Milander Root - An alchemical ingredient. Mimic - A monster that can take on the shape and abilities of other creatures. The limits of this ability are unknown. Gilgamesh defeats a Mimic in the goddess Iasis¡¯ temple. As a reward the goddess ¡®gifts¡¯ the Mimic to him and they are fused together. The Mimic seeks a symbiotic relationship with Gilgamesh, but he rejects this and, instead, slaves it to his will with the aid of the ¡®Voices.¡¯ Muram Al¡¯ Hazin - An adventurer that Gilgamesh encounters in the sewers. Gilgamesh kills him in self-defense. Naira - The mother of Zariyah, and the owner of the Begonia¡¯s Shade. In thanks for freeing her daughter from her contract, she lets Gilgamesh stay for free at the inn. Narilmu - A small port town, three hundred miles to the north of Al-Lazar. It is from here that a trickle of trade flows into Al-Lazar. Ninurta - A serving girl in the Begonia¡¯s Shade. Pakum - An adolescent boy and nephew of Abas Yar. He is sent with Gilgamesh to look after the Xaruar that Kidu rides on their excursion to kill Sandgorgers. Patches - The large donkey that Gilgamesh saves from the butcher¡¯s block in Ansan. She is now his favored pet. [The] Perfumery - The sewer network of Al-lazar. Many strange creatures have taken up residence there. [The] Perfumers - The maintenance workers and de facto guards of the Al-Lazarian sewer network. [The] Principles of Conflict - A military treatise and manual on the art of war, written by General Damien de Savant. Praxis - The ceremonial skeleton guards of Iasis¡¯ temple. Their bones are coated with metal to help protect them from the long years. Promissory Notes - Paper money and the local currency of Al-Lazar. Quiverings - A species of gelatinous slime monster that lives in the sewers of Al-Lazar. Ramal - A Xaruar that Pakum takes care of. [The] Ravens - A traveling people. Their livelihood revolves around trade. Gilgamesh travels with them to get to cross the Whispering Wastes to reach the city of Al-Lazar. They are led by Laes Harevor. [The] River God - The god of time and prophecy. Samasa - A term of respect in Al-Lazar. Scholar¡¯s Row - An area of Al-Lazar. It is a hodgepodge of various buildings made in a variety of architectural styles. Sevas Soranzo - A Spellsword in Kaila¡¯s party. He starts a fight with Gilgamesh thinking that he is flirting with Kaila. Sewer Rat - A species of monstrous rats that inhabit the sewer network of Al-Lazar. One of Gilgamesh¡¯s tasks is to slay twenty rats and bring their tails back to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. [The] Shallow River - The river that symbolizes death. Holder Houses - The old founding families that rule Al-Lazar. Tally - A mage adventurer that Gilgamesh encounters in the sewers. Gilgamesh kills her in self-defense. [The] Silk Quarter - The slums of Al-Lazar. Theophania - A small girl who begs Gilgamesh to save her mother. Troglodyte - A group of subhumans that live deep underground in the Whispering Wastes. Urd Saba - The seventh day of the week. Vincenzio Utnapishtim Barbierri - Necromancer and resident Alchemist at the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. After his initial conflict with Gilgamesh, he decides to help him as Gilgamesh, unlike the other Champions, seems to be free of divine influence. Visitor - The term used to describe people not of the world of Gesthe. [the] Voices - A sibilant choir that aid and give direction to Gilgamesh. Whispermews - A rodent resembling a cross between a ground squirrel and a lemming. Driven out of their homes by the rains of ¡®The Weeping¡¯, a ¡®horde¡¯ of Whispermews run amok in Gilgamesh¡¯s wagon. He kills them all, except for one creature, which he gives to Larynda to take care of as a pet. [The] Whispering Wastes - A large desert also known as the Sim Edin. Home to the Guardians. [The] Wind - Control over the element of air. It is one of the most dangerous elements to master as its users rapidly fall into greater and greater madness. Xaruar - A large, six-legged proto-dragon that resembles the Ankylosaur of Earth¡¯s primordial past. They are used as pack animals. Zajasite - Glowing magical crystal. Zala - A Troglodyte woman that Gilgamesh forces to be his guide to the surface. Unfortunately, she is killed by him when he activates his skill, Frenzied Strikes. Zariyah - A beautiful, but mute, Hazigadami servant. Her contract is gifted to Gilgamesh by Gelgor for the act of healing him. She is the daughter of Naira, owner of the Begonia¡¯s Shade. Zlesh Viper - A gigantic serpent that lives in the underground of the Whispering Wastes. Book 4: The Martial Path [Part 1] The Sea Hydra, known to the Mer as Tiamtu-Balmu and to the surface dwellers as the Sevensnake, is a fearsome war beast employed by the enigmatic people of the sea. These colossal creatures, each bearing seven serpent-like heads, serve as the living engines of war for the Mer in their relentless battles upon land and sea. Each head, capable of extending up to thirty paces, is lined with an array of serrated teeth. These are designed for tearing flesh and armor alike, and can unleash a paralyzing, venomous spray that fells even the mightiest foes. However, a Sea Hydra''s most formidable attribute is its regenerative ability. A Sevensnake can rapidly recover from injuries that would prove fatal to other creatures, rendering it an almost indestructible force. In the hands of the Mer, the Tiamtu-Balmu becomes an embodiment of their implacable will, an unstoppable tide of destruction that none can withstand. - Monsters of the Mortal Realms by K. D. Fidditch. The middle-aged woman was standing in the center of an open field, her posture as unyielding as a stone pillar. The light from this place¡¯s sun cast her shadow long across the grass between us. I felt within me a mix of defiance and curiosity. What was there to learn from this woman; this woman from a long-lost dream? For this was a dream, of that I was sure. After I introduced myself, she gave me her full name. Fen Vaigorus, a name whispered through the pages of one of my books. A swordmaster, The first human to bear the fabled Mantis Mark. A surprise indeed, for I had always imagined Fen to be a man. I had come here to grow in power, lured by the promises of the Necromancer - the promises of a quick and easy path. I was not yet convinced that this Fen, with her calm demeanor and piercing eyes, could teach me anything new in the confines of a dream. ¡°In a place as unreal as this, we must make this as real as possible,¡± she said, picking a suspiciously sharp-looking sword up and throwing it to me. I was feeling challenged, and my male pride could only allow me to accept. Despite my doubts, we sparred with live blades, and I found myself utterly outmatched. Each move I made was countered with an effortless grace, as if she anticipated my every thought. Despite all of my Strength and speed, the older woman made me look like a flailing idiot. My frustration welled up, and eventually I cast my blade to the ground in surrender. It was like playing against a computer that could read your every input, I thought ruefully. Physically, I felt little strain, but the mental weight of being so thoroughly outclassed was trying. It was unfair, and I had been cheated. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Besides, despite my best efforts, there was no reward, no notification of progress from my ¡®System.¡¯ ¡°This is nothing more than a dream; a creation of the imagination. Anything I gain here is only made-up and would be of no use to me in the waking world,¡± I growled in distaste. The graceful Fen looked at me wryly. ¡°Perhaps that would have been so if this were a normal dream. And, perhaps, if this Dust dream were merely your own¡ªa place where your mind wanders freely, unencumbered by the waking world¡¯s constraints. A place of boundless, hedonistic imagination,¡± she paused, a grin tugging at her lips. ¡°But this is no ordinary dream, Dust or otherwise. It is my dream, the unclouded and unvarnished truth as I have seen it,¡± she declared. ¡°What you will learn here, you will carry into the waking world. The truth of the Living Sword.¡± ¡°I care not for mindless martial philosophies. If you are going to teach, then do it. There are people waiting for me. And do not think to ask why I wish to become strong, or say any other useless blather,¡± I countered flatly. ¡°I see that teaching you right thought before right action is putting the cart before the horse,¡± she observed with a sigh. ¡°But first, you must acknowledge one truth: I am better at fighting than you. Much better.¡± I nodded reluctantly, though it galled me to no end. ¡°I have a few questions,¡± I ventured, eager to move to a different topic to salve my injured pride. ¡°What is this place, exactly?¡± ¡°Did not my esteemed friend Vince explain? This is a shared dream, one of which I am the master. It is a place in the formless world, given shape by my will. In short, the rules here are dictated by me to create the best environment for training,¡± she answered. ¡°And you are Fen Vaigorus¡­ the Swordmaster Fen Vaigorus? Have you not been dead for hundreds of years?¡± I asked, half-disbelieving. Her face grew wan. ¡°Both yes and no. I am indeed Fen,¡± she paused, her voice growing hollow as the life seemed to drain from her. ¡°No; I am an echo, a fragment of the person that was Fen Vaigorus. A part of a promise to Vincenzio. A memory. But, unlike a memory that will fade slowly , I will be lost into oblivion once I have fulfilled my purpose.¡± I forced myself to hold back a snort. Even in this fantasy land women had the habit of making the simplest of explanations overly complicated and melodramatic. "...and I was not just a Swordmaster. I was known as the Weaponmaster," Vaigorus proclaimed with no small amount of pride. "I see. Back to my earlier question, how exactly will I be able to take back what I learn here into the waking world?" "I do not know the exact mechanics of that; I know only that this is a limited simulacrum of the waking world. Aided by the refined Asixum pollen, your mind, and more importantly, your body will remember everything even upon waking," she explained. "And, speaking of time... must I spend years here to learn what I must?" She turned away, looking jittery for the barest fraction of a second. "Time here is¡­ fluid and inexact. Though I cannot give you an exact estimate, you will be given time enough to learn what must be learned. To do what must be done. Time passes slower here than in the waking world," she confessed. "It is a thing of the god-gift, Mana." I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, not quite believing Fen. Too many markers of deception had played about her face. Book 4: The Martial Path [Part 2] She gave me a weak smile. "You''ve fought before," Fen observed, her voice steady and firm. "And you''ve taught yourself well enough to survive. But surviving and mastering the art of combat are two very different things." Caught up in the rhythm of her question, I could do nothing but not, though my pride made me hesitate. "I''ve managed so far. I''ve fought men and monsters twice my size and lived to tell the tale," I boasted, feeling defensive. After all, I had dealt with a fair score of opponents so far. "Perhaps you have," Fen agreed, her eyes narrowing a fraction. "But you fight like a man who has only ever known chaos. You have only the vaguest forms of training. Added to that, your movements are wild, unpredictable, and, while that can work to your advantage, it also leaves you vulnerable. Also, you have not made the things you have learned upon your path of carnage your own. So, my first task is to unteach these habits before I can build new ones." She motioned for me to step closer. "First, we start with the basics. Unarmed combat. It is the foundation upon which all other weapon techniques are built. If you understand how to control your own body, you will, in turn, understand how to truly control a weapon. It is the first step to mastery." I frowned, still reluctant to obey - until the realization that I would need this skill for the Festival dawned. ¡°I will do as you ask, that is very well and good; but I must learn more than just how to punch and kick. I must also learn more about fighting with a weapon," I added. Fen raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "An adept can make a sword, spear, mace, or any other weapon an extension of their arm. Mastery is much more than that. To master a weapon, you must first master yourself. Now, assume a fighting stance." I complied, shifting my feet into what I believed was a stable and sure position. The middle-aged woman circled me like a sculptor assessing a block of marble, her gaze sharp and critical: "Your stance is too wide. Bring your feet closer together. Bend your knees slightly. Your center of gravity must be low, but mobile." She reached out and lightly tapped my right foot with her own, nudging it into place. "Good. Now, relax your shoulders. Tension will slow you down. If your body fights itself, it will not be able to deliver its full potential." Easier said than done, I thought to myself. Still, I did as instructed, feeling awkward and exposed. Fen moved back in front of me. "We''ll start with a simple punch. A fast strike. But remember, power comes from your core, not just your arm. " She demonstrated without further warning, her movement fluid and precise. Her fist snapped out, stopping just a hair¡¯s breadth away from my face, the force of her movement sending a rush of air past my cheek. "Now you." Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. To my credit, I did not blink. However, like a master, I conceded, she had made it look effortless; made it look like anyone could do it. I swallowed hard, steadying myself. Fen¡¯s eyes bore into mine, expectant and unyielding. I mimicked her stance, tried to relax myself, and threw a punch. In comparison to the Weaponmaster¡¯s, it felt clumsy and uncoordinated. Fen corrected me, adjusting my posture and guiding my arm. "Again," she said, and he repeated the motion. Hours passed, the training remaining relentless. Fen was patient but demanding, her corrections constant. Each movement, each stance, each breath was scrutinized and perfected. Strangely, I did not grow tired. When I thought to check my Status to see the state of my Stamina, I was shocked to find it gone. Panicked, I tried to view the rest of my user interface, but could not summon it. Without those markers, I suddenly felt helpless, lost, and adrift. I took a deep breath. Calm, find your center or whatever it is, I commanded myself. If this was a dream, it would make sense that I could not access my Status. But what about magic? I tried to cast an Identify spell. It felt muted, as if I were calling magical energies from leagues away. The spell petered out pathetically before I could even form the construct. And what of time? The woman had mentioned that time was passing slower here, but time was not a coin I could so easily fritter away. While this was undoubtedly a necessary step toward my ultimate goal of achieving eternity, I could not help but worry just about how much of my time in the waking world I¡¯d have to sacrifice. Fen Vaigorus regarded me with an annoyingly childish and triumphant grin. ¡°It will not work here, because I do not wish it to work here,¡± she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°I did not think you walked down that path as well. There is more to you than I thought. Perhaps Vincenzio has chosen well.¡± ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± I shot back, feeling a spark of irritation. ¡°In this place, I make the rules. You have, perhaps, noticed that despite your rigorous training, you have not grown tired, yes? That is because I have made it so. Likewise, I have forbidden the use of magic here, for it would have been a distraction,¡± she answered pleasantly, her serene tone a sharp contrast to my growing annoyance. ¡°I see,¡± I responded, striving to keep my voice calm. A part of me knew that showing my irritation would be a defeat. She was treating me like a child, and I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me riled. ¡­And come to think of it, Vincenzio had mentioned that I would need to defeat the guardian of this dream. If I could not use my magic, then I was going to be robbed of one the biggest aces in my deck. There was nothing for it; I would have to bite the bullet and throw myself into this training. ***** By the end of the first session, my mind felt numb from the endless repetition. Fen stood before me, her expression as inscrutable as that of a statue. "You''re beginning to understand," she remarked. "But this is only the start. Unarmed combat teaches you balance, control, and awareness. These are the principles that will carry over to any weapon you wield." I nodded, exhausted. "I can imagine that to be so. There is more to this," I said evenly, my voice betraying none of the mental fatigue that weighed on me. "Much more," Fen agreed. "Tomorrow, we continue. Though your body will not tire, your mind will require rest to digest what you have learned. We will resume in one turn of the sands,¡± she said with a flourish, producing an hourglass from seemingly nowhere. ¡°The path to mastery is long, but with dedication, you will walk it. Or, perhaps, run." Despite my exhaustion, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of anticipation. Fen had shown me a glimpse of true mastery, and in truth, I was eager to learn more. It could not hurt to learn something new. Book 4: Times Up [Part 1] Grasp the essence of the principles deeply, but wield them with the fluidity of water, ever-changing and adaptable. - The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus circa 520 AC. And so it continued. On and on, a litany of advice and physical education that did not end. The tiniest of details were scrutinized over, from the very way I stood to how much I leaned forward. I was taught a myriad of stances and forms with just as many exotic and mysterious names. They were almost all rather fancy sounding, with such examples as Parting the Silk and the Beggar¡¯s Ruse. Though I had no idea why they were sometimes named such, I was made to know full well all of their functions and applications. Parting the Silk was used to snake through an opponent guard, a series of tapping and pulling motions that opened up an opponent¡¯s center line. Beggar¡¯s Ruse was used to give the opponent an opening, inviting them into my circle and allowing for a swift counterattack. And circle. Fen would yap continuously about a ¡®circle,¡¯ the space in which I could control things. She would have me do exercises to judge distance, incessantly quizzing me on whether I was an action I did was in my circle. It was just this world¡¯s term for ¡®measure,¡¯ I concluded to myself. She wanted me to visualize it at all times, especially when an opponent¡¯s circle overlapped with mine. At first, I found it rather silly, but Fen¡¯s voice was surprisingly hypnotic and insistent. Her suggestions worked their way into my brain like determined worms. Eventually, I found that I could do it. I learned of rhythm. For the most part, combat was divided into actions that were either one or two-beat actions. The best forms of attack, Fen would explain, were those that were simultaneously a defense and a one-beat action. Attack was a defense and a defense could also be an attack. I was taught too how to grapple and throw. Fen¡¯s lithe figure was surprisingly strong and the small woman had no problems overpowering me. Over and over, I found myself smacked against the floor or in a chokehold or painful lock that I could not escape. My new teacher told me that I was probably much physically stronger than her, and that she was merely applying her strength in the correct way. Poppycock, I thought to myself, she just probably had a much higher Strength attribute than me.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. It was all rather much to take in. But take it in I did. Hours or days passed within the dream, and time lost its meaning there. I even gave up counting the number of mental breaks that I had. Like slipping through my fingers, it was hard to recall how much time I was spending here. I quizzed Fen about this as I sat down by the stream, looking into its clear water. She replied only with evasions and non-answers, with the best explanation that we were simply spending as much time as was required. My teacher would sometimes retire to her house during these times of rest, and even on occasion would invite me in for tea. Her place was a quaint, rustic dwelling, just a touch away from being called squalid. We drank a copious amount of tea from almost comically small cups. Luckily in this place, I had no bodily functions which was a relief. When pressed on this she explained that it was unnecessary here. Once, I asked Fen what she knew about life everlasting. She gave me a quizzical look and waved off my question, but I persisted. ¡°Your very existence, here and now, suggests that such a thing might be possible. Have you truly never given it any thought?¡± I pressed, uncaring if I angered her. ¡°To think on it is to invite only existential dread, something that would lead me astray from my purpose of teaching you. To question my meaning beyond that purpose... you don''t understand what you''re asking,¡± she replied, her voice tinged with hollow melancholy. I felt a surge of resentment then. I deserved an answer if she had one. ¡°But¡­¡± ¡°We will speak no more of this,¡± she cut me off abruptly, standing up and gesturing for me to follow her outside. ¡°We must train.¡± Though she remained silent on the matter of life everlasting, she often spoke about ¡®cutting away unnecessary things.¡¯ It was a notion I found myself increasingly resistant to. After all, who were to decide what was necessary and unnecessary? Take too much away and a person might lose whatever it was that made them¡­ well them. I had lost too much of myself coming to this world already. But I gained much too. Coming to this world had made me stronger than I could have ever imagined. I had fought with monsters and defied gods. Much in part, I admitted ruefully, to the fact that I had a ¡®system¡¯ in this world that had allowed for me to make meaningful progress. It had been a positive feedback loop, with my gains inspiring me to make even more gains. Or to simply kill more at times, I thought darkly. Not that I minded much now. I would do whatever it took to achieve my goal of defying death, with or without the Grace of the Goddess. However, now without my UI or system, I no longer had numbers to ascertain my progress. Only Fen¡¯s vague nods or grunts of dismissive approval were the only measure that I was making progress or learning anything at all. I had become reliant on judging myself by easy-to-see numbers. At first, it had been hard to make progress. But slowly, I was making progress. Interspersed in our conversations were now vague hints of grudging praise. A source of enlightenment was when I noticed that the sign language I had used with Zariyah was a sort of precursor or foundation to the style that Fen was trying to impart to me. There in a defense form were the shapes for a rebuttal, there in an attack form a scathing condemnation. I mentioned this to Fen, but in her typical manner, she simply replied that it was an unnecessary notion. Fat lot you know, I smirked, because for me it had been, in a way, a groundbreaking discovery. Book 4: Times Up [Part 2] Now before me, came a test of sorts. Fen Vaigorus, the Weaponmaster, and my new teacher, placed her small white china cup down on the rough-hewn wooden table. The delicate cup, with its intricate patterns and fine craftsmanship, seemed an oddity amidst the almost austere surroundings of her home. It was an exquisite thing, the kind that only a true master or the marvels of modern technology could produce. Getting up, she then placed a rather large nut, about the size of a small coconut into an earthenware judge before filling it with water. For a moment, I thought she was about to engage in a bout of cooking. She gave me an appraising look. ¡°Come with me,¡± she commanded, leaving her humble abode with the filled jug. At a loss, I followed her. I had quickly learned that failing to do as instructed would result in the subtle application of pain later. With a bitter grin, I realized I was being trained like a dog. Fen placed the ochre jug on a small boulder and turned to me. ¡°You will learn how to attack that which is beneath,¡± she began in an even tone. ¡°Like this¡­¡± With lightning¡¯s swiftness, she launched a palm strike at the jug. I braced for an explosion of pottery fragments, but instead, there was just a dull thud. Bemused, and thinking she was pulling my leg, I went over to inspect the pot. Inside, I found the contents of the alien nut exploded into small floating chunks. What trick or magic spell was this? ¡°It is not of Mana if you are wondering,¡± she explained. ¡°It uses purely that of the body and not the mind and soul.¡± Goodness gracious, could explanations get any more oblique? ¡°How then?¡± I asked, a shade of irritation entering my voice. ¡°You must learn to use an energy from within. Find your center and cut all things away. Focus on one thing only, yet at the same time, think of nothing. To become one with the void. It is a hard thing to explain. In other lands, they called this energy Kai. It is the one thing that I can not teach you, but a thing that you must find,¡± she explained. Fen paused for a moment, her eyes growing distant as if lost in a memory. ¡°But even if you cannot do this, I will teach you the rest of what I know, though much of it may be beyond your grasp,¡± she said with a sigh. ¡°It takes an ordinary person many years of focus solely on this path to find, but even here, we do not have that luxury of time. It is my hope that you are not just an ordinary person.¡± Was the woman trying to goad me to greater efforts? Could she not see that I was trying my best? Sometimes your best is not good enough, a quiet voice whispered. Not the voices, but simply the negative part of me that lurked in the dark recesses. Still, I had to try. Fen taught me to meditate, telling me to apply the breathing techniques I had learned earlier. That was easy enough, but to clear my mind was perhaps too high of a hurdle to set. For a man of my generation, erroneous thoughts came suddenly and often. Such a simple idea, the Zen notion of thinking of nothing, but in practice difficult to the extreme. And so we stayed like that, doing nothing, just sitting cross-legged by the gurgling stream. Trying to think of nothing. It was an impossibility as too many things intruded into my mind and I was far from finding my center of whatever it was that she called it. ¡°That is enough, one¡¯s focus can only be used so much before it grows dull,¡± she said, slowly opening her eyes and getting up.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Brushing herself off, she gave me a small smile. ¡°I will show you the physical aspect of what must be done.¡± ¡°That way at least, even if you fail to learn it here you may have a chance to learn it out there one day,¡± she declared. Somewhat taken aback, I gave a flat response, ¡°It is like you are planning for failure?¡± Fen chuckled at this. ¡°Perhaps you are right. But from what I have seen so far I have learned to temper my hopes with realistic caution,¡± my teacher replied. So much for a motivational speech, I grumbled internally. ***** This was perhaps the hundredth, or thousandth, jug I had broken. Again and again, I had failed to destroy the nut suspended in water inside the jug without destroying the earthenware shell. It was frustrating to the extreme. The middle-aged woman would just throw some random advice, telling me to apply the ¡®soft touch¡¯ or to ¡®limit myself,¡¯ or some other random blather. So opaque was her help that it was more of a hindrance. How could one be expected to break the nut without breaking the pottery outside? The whole thing did not make any sense and was stupid in the extreme. It was infuriating. Just as my patience was reaching its limit, the woman raised a hand, signaling me to stop. ¡°There is nothing more that you can do here. I will just hope that you will be able to master it outside in the waking world,¡± she said, admitting defeat with a tired sigh. Finally, I thought to myself, what a useless technique anyway. She returned to her house. After a short while, she returned, bringing with her two wooden staves of even length. Tossing one staff to me she told me to take up a stance of my choosing. ¡°What¡­ where am I to start?¡± I asked incredulously. ¡°These are but an extension of your body. Try not to differentiate what I teach now from what you have already learned. The principals are ultimately the same¡­ if you try to keep them separate as concepts within your mind, you will ultimately suffer in the long term,¡± she explained in an insufferably aloof voice. Great, whole dollops of mysticism with only a dash of vague explanation. ***** And in that manner, she trained me. More often than not, her teachings came in a language I understood all too well. Kind words and thoughtful insights were replaced by painful counterattacks and punishments that spurred me to greater aggression. Fen probably understood that her words would no longer reach me. There was not an ounce of consideration or kindness in her demeanor, and beneath it all, I sensed a desperate urgency. Fen would disappear into her house to collect whatever new configuration that we would spar in and we would begin. With staff, sword, and spear, she taught me. With hammer, halberd, and blade, she taught me. With one weapon or two, shields and no shields, she taught me. With spear against shield, two weapons against one, hammer against fist and feet, in endless combination she taught me Armored in a heavy plate harness or wearing nothing more than my underclothes, she taught me. And, she taught me how to use my other hand, through raw practice and endless bloody repetition, until I could use both hands almost equally as well. At first, she had been untouchable. Even when she was in a relaxed and open stance, I could see no opening to exploit. But like the sea working its way against a stubborn cliff, I was slowly making progress. Now and again, I could see that she had become a bit slower in her response, here and there I would score a rare light touch. I was finally beginning to get some grim satisfaction from the whole endeavor. But even in this place where time flowed unnaturally slowly, it still did flow. A part of me sensed that my time here was drawing to a close, and Fen, it seemed, could sense it too. ¡°I do not know what culture has bred you to be thus, but your focus is sorely lacking. You have an anger about you that clouds your judgment. It dulls your strikes and softens your defense. But, you have learned much, not as much as I wished to learn, but a lot nonetheless. It will have to be enough,¡± she stated, delivering her backhand compliment as if they were words of the wise. ¡°What is there left for you to teach?¡± I asked snidely. ¡°A lifetime of wisdom,¡± she replied blithely with a weak smile. ¡°But, we do not have the time for that. Take a moment¡¯s rest, meditate, and think on all that you have learned. For next will be your final test before your journey back to the waking world.¡± ¡°Great¡­ at long bloody last,¡± I replied back with no small amount of bitterness, relaxing my shoulders as I sought the comfort of the gurgling stream and soft green grass. Book 4: Under a Shattered Sky [Part 1] There have been many that have professed to be my betters. They were crushed by the weight of their false pride and my iron fist. - Gilgamesh of Uruk. Meditation, what useless nonsense. Clear your mind of extraneous thoughts? What use was there in pretending to be a rock? It was all mysticism and mumbo-jumbo. Instead of doing that, I delved deeply into the nature of my magic. My recollection of scattered bits and pieces of knowledge was clearer here, perhaps due to the very nature of this place¡ªthis was, after all, a realm of the subconscious. Where there were gaps, I could infer. Where there was nothing, I could theorize. Like the philosophers of old, I applied rational thought to my current circumstances. This led me to the conclusion that I had been lied to. In this place, Fen was not, and could not be, the sole master. If it was a creation of the mind and soul, then I had as much control as anyone. With this realization, I struggled against the constraints of this dream world, calling upon my magic again and again. At first, it was just a trickle, the tiniest of echoes, but over time, the connection grew stronger. There was a strain, a mental strain that I could not keep for too long, one that left me mentally exhausted as I fought the limits of the place. Days, weeks, months, or years - the flow of time was fluid here - passed between attempts. Practice with Fen was an exhausting proposition on its own, and this added much strain to my already fraught mind. But it had become a project, a great work, and a mark of my rebellion. I had no choice but to divert whatever mental resource I had after contesting with Fen to its progress. So, in time, not only could I use the dark energies, intrinsic yet alien to my being, but I¡¯ve also discovered new avenues for their application. As with all things, it was a matter of time and meaningful practice. Fen wanted me to forget a part of who I was, but I could not tolerate that blatant attempt at deception. She wasn¡¯t going to find me so helpless for her next, and final, test. ¡°It is time,¡± came Fen¡¯s voice, cutting me away from my deeper thoughts. With deliberate slowness, I opened my eyes, taking in the raw reality of the dreamscape. How long had I been lost in thought? It could have been moments; it could have been years. ¡°It is time,¡± she repeated, glancing worriedly at the sky. My eyes followed hers, looking upwards toward the heavens. The sky was cracking like winter ice kissed by spring¡¯s first thaw, small rents running across the blue ceiling. It seemed that, in this at least, she was telling the truth. I knew my time here was coming to a close. An ending was approaching. About time, too, I thought bitterly. I replied to Fen with nothing, for words could not have improved upon the silence.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°Go into the house, picture what it is that you will need, and meet me outside,¡± the Weaponmaster stated in a voice heavy with ceremoniousness. ¡°You will need to choose wisely, if you are to succeed.¡± Out of deference to my teacher, I gave her a quick bow before I entered the house for the first time. Why did I never think of entering it before? More mystical trickery, no doubt. Wait, had I stepped in before? But as soon as these inconsequential questions raised their heads, they soon fled from me. Opening the wooden door, I crossed the threshold of the small dwelling, mentally envisioning the tools that were going to give me the best chance against the formidable Fen. There was a feeling of dislocation as I entered, and my perception was shaken to its core. Everything was off, as if reality was slightly off-center and misaligned. Most different from all of my previous visits. It was a shifting. Once my senses had settled, I was greeted by a familiar sight of the rustic, almost spartan, interior of my teacher¡¯s abode. The earthen walls were unadorned, the furniture wooden and of plain making. In contrast to the simple aesthetic of the room, there was a desk in the corner upon which lay a fine feathered quill and quality parchment. The ¡®realness¡¯ of this place was now a paradox. It felt, perhaps, even more solid than the created world outside, yet at the same time I sensed that the flow of time here was different. There was a contrary duality of fast and slow. As I was shaking my head, my eyes were drawn to a large, heavy iron-banded chest at the foot of a straw bed. On the floor in front of the chest was a halberd, a weapon that I had thought of as a counter to Fen¡¯s superior skill. It was a versatile weapon that was suitable for slashing, thrusting, tearing, and cutting. The halberd also had a considerable reach, and, though I was not much taller than Fen, I had to leverage what advantage I could. Normally, it being a two-handed weapon would mean that I would have to forgo the use of a shield. However, I had prepared a cunning surprise for Weaponmaster Fen Vaigorus. Deception and trickery were not solely within her purview. In this dance of steel and strategy, I intended to show her that she had no monopoly on guile. With a grin forming on my face, I tried to rush forward, but was limited to a sedate walk. Reality, for lack of better words, seemed thicker here. Kneeling by the weapon, I solemnly ran my fingers across its promised lethality, searching for flaws in its craftsmanship and finding none. It possessed enough weight and heft to smash an opponent down, whether they were armored or not. Satisfied, I set it aside momentarily to examine the contents of the large chest. It opened with an ominous squeak of unoiled hinges, revealing items both familiar and unknown. My plate harness lay within, as did the battle spoils of the Grass Sea, and the wolfhead helm was a most welcome sight indeed. Beside my armor was a practical, double-edged short sword sheathed in a black lacquered scabbard, as well as a slender dagger. As an afterthought, a brace of balanced throwing knives in a tough leather baldric completed the assortment of chosen weaponry. The sword¡¯s blade was straight and tapered to a triangular tip. It was, at a glance, forty centimeters in length, and had a wide crossguard for catching blows. I tested its weight and balance, going through a few series of flourishes, and found that it was of a type that was both suitable for the cut and thrust of combat. The dagger was a more simple affair. It had a very narrow blade, made for piercing mail and snaking through the weak points of armor. Added to this was a circular guard and pommel that was going to allow for a greater grip, letting me hammer the point with greater force in close combat. The rondel made for a nice backup weapon. However, a crossbow and a quiver full of iron bolts were conspicuously absent. I shrugged, accepting that their absence was simply part of the test''s nature. Thinking about it, a ranged weapon would have probably been classified as cheating. At least now I had an answer to one of my earlier riddles. I knew now how Fen had produced our practice gear. Book 4: Under a Shattered Sky [Part 2] Slowly, I clad myself in the garb of war, taking my time, for there was no rush. Let Fen wait for me, I decided. Though I doubted such a simple trick would work on her, it was the opening move in our game. The woman was as patient as death itself. Finally, I felt complete, as ready as I could be. As I moved to leave the house, my hand reached for the door, but was betrayed by hesitation. Wouldn¡¯t it be better to wait here¡­ to wait until the end of the dream? The more I thought about it, the more logical this course of action seemed. No, the voices beseeched. Yes, even here, in the dream, the dark choir had found me. They were right, of course, as they always were. Cowardice was trying to persuade me to its cause in the guise of logic and reason. It was time to do what had to be done. I would not fail here. I was the chosen one. It was fated. Mine would be the path of eternity. With a deep breath, I found the will to open the door. Anticlimactically, the head of my halberd got stuck in the doorway, a poor portent if ever there was one. Annoyed, I tried again, and finally stepped into the arena of my trial. The transition was jarring, and disorienting. A cool breeze played across my face, carrying the scent of camphor. Fen was standing before me, smiling, but something was different. Gone was the patient, kind teacher; her face was tight, the lines of her expression revealing a controlled focus. Now, I saw the truth of her. An aspect of war incarnate. Fen wore an open-faced helm and a riveted mail shirt that extended from her neck to her thighs, belted at the waist. At her hip hung a single curved sword. It was of a medium length, and a ribbon of crimson silk decorated the scabbard where it rested. She wore no gloves, likely in order to afford her greater dexterity. Or, perhaps, she did so as to bait me into focusing most of my attacks onto her hands. I had learned from her that one of the easiest ways to defend oneself was to control the focus of an opponent¡¯s attack. Or, perhaps, I was overthinking things and she had simply made a mistake? ¡°I will hold nothing back and fight you as if you were my equal, though you are¡­ well, far from it,¡± she stated flatly. ¡°As a mercy, I will use only a single blade,¡± she added. Fen was trying to goad me in an obvious attempt, but I would not lose control. Still, I let the ember of ire grow in the pit of my stomach. Anger, and indeed all emotions, were the fuel of human action. This suited me just fine. My magic in this place required an almost inordinate amount of time to summon. The more words were exchanged, the better.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. I gave her my best, winning smile. ¡°And this test? What if I should fail?¡± I asked dryly. A few drops of Mana, the god-gift, filled me, and my heart beat fast with excitement. She looked me in the eyes, her gaze as cold as midwinter. ¡°Then you will perish. In the waking world, you will cease to be you,¡± the Weaponmaster declared evenly. ¡°And? That¡¯s it?¡± I continued blithely. I had expected as much, but there had to be more to it than just my simple death. The setup had been far too intricate. ¡°I take no joy in this, but as per my accord with Vincenzio, I will become you. Your body will be mine, and I will have one more chance to walk again in the world of the living. To breathe real air under an unshattered sky. To have another chance to do what must be done,¡± she explained with fierce vehemence. ¡°This time, I will have all the advantages that come with being born a man.¡± There it was. The unvarnished truth of the matter. The flow of energy started, circulating with every pulse of my heart. ¡°There are not as many advantages as you think they are,¡± came my automatic retort. Though she professed no joy in it, her eyes betrayed a different story. Writ plain in their depths was greed and a lust for new life. Bitterness welled inside me, reaching new peaks. I nearly spat in reaction. This world, it seemed, would always hand me the raw end of the deal. ¡°Of course you don¡¯t take any joy in this,¡± came my retort. ¡°And, of course, you¡¯ve probably taught me nothing more than a lot of garbage? After all, the allure of another life would be too great for the great Fen Vaigorus, no doubt,¡± I responded sarcastically. She placed a hand upon her mailed breast. ¡°Upon my honor and the Mantis Mark, I swear I have taught you to the best of my ability. I have tried to impart all that I know to you, as I have with all my students and disciples. If you have been resistant to my teaching¡­ well, that is no fault of mine.¡± I grit my teeth, striving to maintain a calm expression. Had I known the conditions for this final trial, I would have tried much harder. Much harder. Would have, could have, should have. The story of my life. These were the useless words that spun around my brain in a futile procession, distracting me. Damn her eyes. Regrets, as always, never occurred before the fact. ¡°Did you honestly think you could have bested one of the greatest warriors with only a half-hearted effort?¡± she asked, raising an eyebrow and covering her mouth to stifle a laugh. It was yet another attempt to provoke me into greater anger. Slowly, my magic had begun to well within. Too slowly¡­ too slowly. I straightened my shoulders and took a deep breath. ¡°Perhaps, for an ordinary man. But I am no ordinary man, and your time, Weaponmaster Fen, has long passed. Despite your less-than-adequate instruction, you will not find me an easy opponent. Do not think I have shown you all of my claws just yet,¡± I answered defiantly, slamming the butt of my halberd to the ground for emphasis. ¡°You are nothing more than an antiquated echo of a bygone age.¡± The graceful woman laughed at this, great peals of laughter echoing all around. The embers of hate, anger, bitterness, and frustration rose into a flame that threatened to consume me. The Mana within started to surge. It was time for a different tack. ¡°Will you at least tell me of yourself, your true self? I would know who it is I truly face, and why would youyou would go to such lengths to kill an innocent man?¡± I spat out in a bid to buy myself more time. Book 4: The Weaponmaster [Part 1] It is the tree with many branches that is damaged most by the wind. - A Quassian Aphorism. ¡°Enough! It is time to test your skill and resolve,¡± she exclaimed, ignoring my attempt at delay and drawing the sword at her side with the rasp of sharp metal. It was too soon. I sensed that I had but enough Mana to cast only the simplest of spells. Reflexively, and against my better judgment, I threw an Identify at Fen. The spell failed to take hold, seeming to skitter off her, even as she adopted a fighting stance. With a casual grace, she drew her weapon, gripping it lightly with both hands. The weapon itself was a simple archaic oriental blade, single-edged and ending in a curved sharp tip. However, it was possessed of a silvery sheen that was not of mere mortal steel. It arrested my attention, and with it, the focus of my spell.
Feather-Quill Saber ¡®Sharur - Smasher of Thousands¡¯ [Mithril]
Durability 700/700
Cheating whore¡¯s daughter, I cursed under my breath, the local invectives coming to me naturally. To my chagrin, I was going more and more native with each and every passing day. The woman was going to use a Godmetal weapon against a mere amateur. Had she no pride? Dirty, cheating, cheating whore. At that moment, I felt as if I had been cast adrift. Hopelessness began to chip away at my earlier confidence. But hope is a stubborn thing, and like a weed growing in the cracks of a blazing hot pavement, it would not easily die. For I had seen the message. The revelation of the Divine. Sweet glorious joy. And with the message, returned to me now was one of my advantages, my system. My blessed system. A defiant smile lit my face as my eyes roved over the attributes, skills, and experience that made me¡­ well me. And, with the system¡¯s return, the floodgates burst open as the command of my magical abilities returned to me in full.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. I felt in my bones the imposed constraints of this place were crumbling. ¡°Arrogance. Know that I am more¡­ more than you could ever, ever be¡­¡± I exclaimed with a wicked grin, meeting her gaze with my own. ¡°I am the chosen of the Goddess, beloved of the Mother, and the bringer of the Endtimes.¡± Though the words were not completely my own, they felt right and resonated within me. They were my calling. They were my purpose. Wait a moment¡­ voiced a kernel of doubt, a small voice that was soon smothered by the needs of the now. I clocked it up to nothing more than a youthful flare for drama. I imagined that I saw a flicker of doubt flutter across the brown of her hazel eyes. But if so, it was a fleeting thing as her expression set into one of focused determination. Then suddenly she burst out into fresh laughter. ¡°Do not think that you are the first Visitor drunk on power not of their own that I have slain¡­¡± my teacher replied, sheathing her blade, lowering her center, and shifting her stance. ¡°If you will not attack and come to me¡­ then I shall come to you,¡± she exclaimed, rushing at me as she drew and slashed at me in a single fluid motion. Her sword sang, no screamed, with vicious intent as it flew toward me. Had I been a lesser disciple in the ways of war that would have been the end of me there and then. But Fen had trained me, and despite my protestations otherwise, had trained me well. From the moment she had resheathed her sword, I had known she was preparing for an attack. As her sword flew at me, so too did I use Dash to retreat, and this time there was genuine surprise on my former teacher¡¯s face as her blade failed to connect. There was skill, and then there were Skills, I thought with satisfaction as I adopted a defensive stance. Entropic Aura begged to be used, and I nodded in mental assent. A black tide burst from me at its center and ripples of grey pulsed with negative energy. ¡°Excellent. I see that you have taken some of my instructions to heart,¡± the Weaponmaster praised. ¡°So this is the kiss of oblivion? No doubt, I am supposed to feel fear. To fear the final end of all things. Perhaps it is because I am a shadow that I feel no fear of death. Or is it because I have crossed the Shallow River already that oblivion holds little sway over me? I have seen so much of death,¡± she mused as she walked casually into the monochrome circle of my aura. ¡°Was this what you were holding back from me, or is there more?¡± The voices within answered for me, singing a malicious song that helped me rapidly form the construct of another spell. Like an arrow loosed from a warbow, darkness flew from me on wings of blighted midnight. A thick tendril of my Drain spell, enhanced by the pulses of Entropy, sought Fen¡¯s heart, questing for it with a hunger unbound. But, like my Identify spell before it, the spell skittered off Fen, failing to sink its fangs into her. I knew that the gap between us was a big one, but was the level difference so great that my spells simply failed to work on her? Frustrated, I instead turned the spell on a different target, the very area around me. On Entropy itself. Book 4: The Weaponmaster [Part 2] The spell leeched away the stuff of Entropy and filled me with a lingering warmth. It was not the euphoric drug that was the energy of a living being, but it was a welcome nonetheless. A chill as cold as the deepest of winters came, summoned by the change of energy states. Frost formed, becoming ice as the grass underfoot turned into countless brittle blades. Unperturbed Fen gave me a questioning look. ¡°You are a man of many talents to command also the element of the old North. I thought such magic was the purview of their Windspeakers. Did you learn that on your own or was that another gift of those who would call themselves gods? No matter¡­ your end will be the same,¡± she said with an infuriating and exaggerated sigh. Fen struck again, a half-hearted swing that nonetheless sang a note of death. It took all that I had to barely intercept it, catching it between the axehead and spear of my halberd. Worryingly, I noticed that the mithril blade had cut into hardened steel. In a silver-slick motion, Fen disengaged her weapon and closed the distance between us, the tip of her weapon seeking the slits of my visor. Again, I used Dash to create distance between even as I gave a weak slashing counterattack of my own. Fen laughed as she casually parried the blow as if it were a child¡¯s. Her eyes were alight with battle fire. ¡°So much for your claims of greatness. You will have to do better than that my dear student!¡± she mocked with disdain, all pretense at being an honorable teacher now dust in the wind. Though she put on an act, I knew her well enough to know that an edge of caution had entered into her. Her attacks this time were more guarded, designed to bait an opening rather than to create one. And, if I judged correctly, her movements were a fraction slower than they usually were. If I were to have a chance of victory, I needed to turn this fight into a battle of attrition. As ungraceful as that was. And if possible, when she had weakened, launch a single and decisive blow. ¡°Is the great Fen Vaigorus, the legendary Weaponmaster, having trouble ending the life of her newest student? You are a woman unworthy of a title that men far greater than you deserve. Fen, you are nothing more than a bully,¡± I barked in defiance. ¡°A bully and a cheat¡­¡± Anger. True anger, blossomed in her eyes. I had perhaps touched a sore spot. Strong women since time immemorial have always been burdened by comparisons to accomplished men. ¡°Do you think that is the first time I have heard such bigoted words? You speak from a position of ignorance. To come here, your purpose must have been to lay low the masters of this world. To stain your sword with the blood of the gods. If you can not defeat me, what hope have you against them? At the very least when I defeat you, humanity will have regained one of its greatest warriors and teachers,¡± she spat back. I laughed in her face, a crazy outburst of a mad and desperate man. ¡°It is time that I teach you the difference between us,¡± the self-proclaimed Weaponmaster stated with an overly proud smile. She flowed into the forms of Horse Cutter, to Dragonfly Dances, and finally to Summer¡¯s Squall. To me, they were simply an overhead chop, an upward slash, and a thrust combination that attacked the center line. Drilled into me, they were predictable, and I had no problem evading their lines of attack. Yet even knowing the conclusion to each set of movements, and despite the greater reach of my weapon, I could find no room to counter.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Do you see now the depths of your mediocrity?¡± she jeered in a tone most unbecoming. It was my turn to laugh. ¡°Now, that is truly rich. If you truly believed so, how about we swap weapons for a turn,¡± I suggested snidely, as I was finally able to sneak in a thrust. ¡°Preposterous! You are unworthy of such a storied blade,¡± she snorted, deflecting my thrust and cutting into the wood and steel of my weapon. ¡°Oh, I see. Excuses are ever the refuge of liars, cheaters, the womanly, and the weak,¡± I countered through gritted teeth. My halberd was made of hardened steel and strong wood, with riveted bands of metal running halfway down its length. But against the cutting edge of mithril, it was slowly being chipped away. The strategy of winning by slow attrition was being eroded with every exchange of blows by Fen¡¯s greater skill. In my heart of hearts, I knew that the woman was not even really trying. She was toying with me for the insults I had given her. Hopelessness once again raised its pitiful and ugly head. The woman was a monster¡­ an unrelenting whirlwind of skilled savagery. She moved from sword form to sword form in a storm of silver. Despite my best efforts, an endless rain of blows came crashing down upon me, chipping away at the steel of my armor. Tearing away at chain links and digging into metal plate whenever I was a fraction too slow in my defense. ¡°Is this truly all you have learned from me? Can you not see that it will take more than rote moves to defeat me? Are you truly so dispossessed of originality?¡± the middle-aged woman chided, causing me to snarl. I redoubled my efforts, and we danced the dance of flashing, stinging steel. A circle of icy white winter in the midst of the dream¡¯s verdant spring. Another chance came to me, or at least I thought it did. The Weaponmaster had come close with my invitation. She pushed my elbow away which opened me up to an attack. Thinking to absorb the blow with my armor, I tried to grapple her down to the ground. Infuriatingly, she slipped out of my limited vision. Something sharp pierced the mail at the back of my leg armor, causing me to go down on one knee. A moment later, I felt a hard rap against my helmet that almost stunned me. Were it not for my high Constitution I would have lost there and then, such was the force of the blow. She continued to yap on, but I could not hear her, the ringing in my ears all but drowning out her words. However, her soliloquy afforded me the time to recover a little of my Health. Enough at least to stand on defiant, if shaky, feet. The woman began her attack anew. My armor, rent in places from a succession of blows was providing less and less protection from Fen¡¯s unceasing assault. Now, I was truly suffering as I was slowly being taken apart. Blow after blow caused sparks of white-hot pain that overwhelmed my Pain Nullification skill and took solid chunks off of my Health. Then finally the moment I had been waiting for arrived. Thinking me defeated, Fen raised her elegant and murderous sword to deliver a coup de grace. It was a killing stroke that I knew was infused with Kai, or whatever she called it, that lent it devastating power. Her blade began its descent with the force of hammer lightning, its intent to cleave me in twain. I raised my forearm in an appearing last-ditch effort to save myself and the mithril sword came down with all the fury of the heavens. But it was stopped, for I was not fighting alone. The Mimic that lived inside of me was one of the aces I had never shown to Fen. It had formed a thick wooden shield that protected me from the blow. It screamed in pain, a cry that rang in my mind. An animal cry that echoed with my own agony. The blade was beyond razor-sharp, but even here in this place set apart from reality, it seemed that the rules that Fen imposed upon this place worked against her. No matter how sharp a blade, it still had to abide by the laws of physics. In this case, namely friction. Her sword had cut deep, too deep in fact, and was now lodged firmly into the Mimic¡¯s faux wood. Stuck. With a cry born of primal desperation, I wrenched the hateful Godmetal sword out of Fen¡¯s grip with such force that it flew from her. Shocked and disarmed, Fen tried to dash toward the mithril sword. I dismissed my Mimic Shield and swung my halberd with all the speed I could muster, forcing her to dance away instead. Now, the tables had finally turned. Book 4: Asura Revenge bears no fruit save for that of a bitter satisfaction. A flavor that lasts for many a year. - The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC. I opened the visor of my helmet, giving Fen my best and bloody smile. ¡°You let your guard down and paid the price for it. Not even you, oh mighty Fen, can best me now¡­¡± I declared gleefully, enjoying the moment for what it was. Despite my desperate predicament, I took some joy in seeing that my Health, Mana, and Stamina were slowly ticking up thanks to my Drain spell and Minor Regeneration. Also, despite the frost and ice around me, I felt little of its chill, thanks to my stolen warmth. I had now the barest glimmer of hope. For without her fearsome mithril blade, I now had a chance to slowly whittle her down in our struggle for supremacy. The Weaponmaster shook her head slowly. ¡°Bravo! Bravo, young Gil. You are a tough one and are truly full of surprises, I¡¯ll give you that. But you underestimate me at your peril,¡± she replied, slowly clapping her hands. I knew firsthand that even without a weapon, and especially with her resistance to my offensive magic, Fen still presented a very real and present danger. Still, I had to try and buy time. My mind raced to find a solution to the seemingly insurmountable problem that was the Weaponmaster Fen Vaigorus. Magic had, for the most part, failed me, and victory could not be achieved through the very forms and moves she had taught me herself. For Fen had meticulously perfected such techniques over a lifetime, and I had yet to make them my own, making the difference between us as night and day. However, the Mimic¡¯s stolid defense reminded me that I was not alone, even in this strange place. Though my companions were not here, their memories remained with me. And in this realm built from the blocks of remembrance, these memories could also be forged into a weapon. Kidu, the savage and noble giant of the North, perhaps in the memories we shared was the solution. Visions of the man fighting, his skill and ferocity a thing that could inspire legend came to me with an almost crystal clarity. Perhaps in his spear, unburdened by doubt and possessed with all swiftness of a striking serpent, could an answer be found. I raised my Halberd into a high stance, echoing my friend¡¯s style. The balance was different from that of a normal spear, but the principles were very much the same. Stick the pointy end in. Confidence and fresh adrenaline surged through me as I launched myself at Fen, going on the offensive with a series of thrusts. I envisioned Kidu fighting alongside me, and for a moment, I could almost hear his roar of approval. I shadowed the way he moved, the way he fought. Without a weapon, Fen could do nothing more than dodge the blows, her face a mask of fixed concentration. To my satisfaction, I noticed the faintest blue tinge creeping into her features, a sign that the chill of my magic was slowly overwhelming whatever mystical defenses she possessed. Breaking away from my series of thrusts, I aimed a sweeping blow at her unarmored shins. Fen, sure of her skill, would loathe to simply do the most expedient thing and just move back out of measure. No, she would seek to move within my circle, as she liked to call it, to dominate the flow of combat. Dispossessed of originality? I¡¯d show her originality. Predictably, Fen leaped towards me and I could not help the savage smile that stole across my face. Dropping my main weapon, I scrabbled to throw four knives at once in mimicry of Elwin while adding something unique to me. The Weaponmaster looked unconcerned as the sharp blades of metal flew towards her and moved her hands to swat them aside. Until, of course, they started to grow white with released exothermic energy. Inferno Bolt worked on anything that was projectile. Take that for originality. The burning hot metal splashed against her mail hauberk, but, to my grave consternation, did little to impede the woman. Of course, cheating again. Her armor was of no doubt of the Godmetal, too. I started to draw the short sword at my waist, but it was too late. She struck at my breastplate with an open palm, and where flesh met metal her Kai was transmitted deep within me. Internal organs were ruptured by the insidious energy I had failed to master, bleeding within. Like a puppet that had its strings cut, I fell unceremoniously to the ground. Coughing blood as I lay there on the grass, my eyes tracked Fen as she walked slowly to pick up her sword. For the oddest of reasons, my ears caught her blathering about me failing to learn even such a basic technique. Death advanced upon me, its chill slowly spreading throughout my limbs. Cold¡­ what an ironic thing to feel considering the nature of the spell that I had recently unleashed for the first time. My Health continued to plummet and my Minor Regeneration was unable to keep up with the mounting damage. Thinking me already dead, the woman in her arrogance had her back turned to me. She had not even bothered to finish me off and I thanked my lucky stars for that small mercy. I had yet a few cards to play still. With almost agonizing slowness I formed one of my greatest spells. The voices could not aid me here, and it took all of my remaining focus to channel it successfully. But channel Greater Heal I did. The voices of angels rang loudly, filling me with the golden light of raw healing. The flesh of my body was once again made whole. Fen turned around just as she picked up her sword, but it was too late. The man she had thought defeated, was once again standing. I stood to my full height, the energy of great magic still singing in my veins, crying out against the injustice that I had faced. How dare this mere mortal strike Avaria¡¯s chosen?Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Shaking my head, I punched the side of my helmet with an armored fist. Such thoughts were suicidal. My Mimic and I were both more or less back to full Health, but Fen was once again armed with her deadly blade of Saint¡¯s Silver. The situation was now, I finally admitted, truly hopeless. A spark of defiance remained and I cast about my memories for a way out. A possible path to survival. I found one. ¡°Iasis,¡± I croaked in a voice full of bitterness and defeat. ¡°Help me.¡± I expected, like all those who rely on prayer, to be met only by silence. However, though distant, a voice answered in a thunderous whisper, ¡°Look within¡­¡± Fen was approaching, but time stretched and reality warped itself to fit the will of the goddess, the Mother of Monsters. ¡°Spare me such useless¡­¡± I began in protest, only to be cut off by a divine command. ¡°Look within! The answer you seek lies within your very blood,¡± Iasis commanded. Suddenly, my perception was thrown back to a time before the annals of mortal history, to an ancient era when humans had just begun using simple sticks and rocks as weapons, even before mastering fire. I saw the true purpose of humanity. We were a thinking weapon, designed to kill. Against any foe, we were ultimately invincible, murdering and despoiling everything until only the dominant race of man remained. Yet, there was one thing we were better at killing than any other race: ourselves. For when nothing remained we would turn against one another. We were a tool, intrinsically designed to clear the board, growing unfettered in rapacious and all-consuming numbers until we ushered in a new Cataclysm to start the cycle anew. It was our very self-destructive nature that was the reason why Iasis the Mother of Monsters cherished us above all others. We were a paradox of creation and destruction made mortal and incarnate. And with this knowledge, divine purpose settled in the hollows of my very soul. It was a thing that no mere echo of a soul long dead could ever hope to aspire to, no matter how powerful. The faintest of brushes, a caress, played across my mind from the Mother. A sign of her satisfaction. I picked up my halberd, drawing comfort from its solid weight. It had served me well. In the top right of my vision, a bar of green-flecked gold was slowly filling. It was the fruit of revelation. The fruit of knowledge. It was time to do what man did best. To kill, no matter the cost. Anger grew hot. Grew into a blaze that began to consume me. Gladly, I let it. Look within Iasis had advised and I did so, casting Identify with some of my remaining Mana on myself. More, the blaze demanded in a siren song. The fires of anger demanded more, so I fed it all of my frustration, all of my rage, all of my bitterness, and all of my spite in an explosion of climactic release. Dash. I closed the distance between Fen and I. Lightning swift, the warrior woman struck at me, but my Mimic blocked her attack. Again it screamed, but it did not matter. Did not matter in the least. Adrenaline coursed through my veins and I could picture now with rage-fueled clarity the space between life and death, the circles that Fen had repeatedly spoken of. I saw where they brushed upon one another and where they could cause harm. I am invincible, I heard myself whisper and knew it to be true. ¡°Frenzied Strikes,¡± I snarled, letting loose all of my savage rage. With no other enemies, the skill was solely focused on the individual before me. My weapon sought an ending for Fen, uncaring even of the possibility of my own. For every four strikes of hers, I could but land a single glancing blow of my own. This would have spelled almost certain death for anyone else. However, for me, it was an acceptable ratio. I am unbreakable, I heard myself whisper and knew it to be true. For now, lost in the throes of the Berserk, I became a machine of a singular purpose. There was no longer a need to block, parry, or dodge. All that was left was for me to quench my weapon¡¯s crimson thirst. Every drop of blood, every fragment of pain both received and inflicted filled the chalice of sacrifice. The green-flecked gold bar was filling rapidly as I offered myself to devotion. I had become a living prayer, my every action an offering of praise to my purpose. I am power without equal, I heard myself whisper and knew it to be true. The mantra complete, I surged with energy. I battled Fen head-on, uncaring but not unthinking. Every ounce of my being tightly focused on a singular goal. For the first time, we fought as near equals and I saw disbelief and real consternation cross her face as she was forced to fight seriously. My heart sang with joy at her discomfiture and together we began to sing the final refrain of our song of struggle. The chalice had finally been filled to the brim and now overflowed. Text appeared, mysterious at first and in a language I could not read. However, next came understanding, the magic of Identify opening my inner eyes.
Path of the Asura
Mentally, I selected it, letting myself loose in the flow. I swelled with new power as a wild untamed energy filled me, boosting my attributes to almost indescribable heights. Fen who had moved before with almost lightning¡¯s quickness, seemed slow to me in my enhanced state. Her blows which had shaken me to my very core, seemed now as light as babe¡¯s breath. The deadly mithril blade which had once been the focus of my attention seemed now to be just a slender stick of blunt metal. This is what you get for cheating. This errant thought rose unbidden to the fore of mind, overriding almost anything else. There was a poetic justice to all of this. The halberd fell from my hands, I did not need it. Now, I held a Strength and speed that no amount of mortal skill could ever hope to match. Almost casually, I entered my once teacher¡¯s circle, grabbing the grip of her sword. With my raw Strength, I wrested it away from her and threw it far away. She darted away before dashing back in to launch another palm strike at me. But this time, I was more than ready and caught her by the wrist, snapping it as if it were a twig. Fen, yes that was this bug¡¯s name, howled in delicious pain, and how my heart soared. Oh, won¡¯t you sing more notes of joy of me? But something intruded upon my joy, the barest iota of worry as I felt my newfound power start to rapidly fade. Panicked, I launched a simple punch at her navel, feeling something break with a satisfying crunch even underneath her near-mystical armor. Warrior-philosopher Fen Vaigorus lay utterly broken at my feet, paying now the price of her hubris of challenging me. Through bloodied lips, she started to utter, ¡°It has been an hon¡­¡± I did not let her finish, cutting her off, ¡°Not bad for a girl. Good game.¡± My armored boot caved in her face and ended her life as I left the Path of Asura. As an aside, I spat on her corpse. The affronted expression, her last, was a treasure I would ever hold dear to my heart. The sky exploded into fractals of light and I was pulled back into the waking world. Book 4: Wakeup Call The gryphon has come to symbolize the raw military might of the Empire. While many nations can field a few units of these majestic beasts, only the Empire can deploy entire wings¡ªveritable legions of these winged creatures. The advantages are undeniable: soaring high above the battlefield, out of range of archers, they can scout, harass, and make a mockery of even the highest walls. Yet, why do other nations not utilize them in greater numbers, or at all in the case of smaller states? The answer lies in their nature. Gryphons are intractable, violent monsters, challenging to care for and control. The Empire''s ability to field them in such numbers is a testament to their logisticae¡¯s prowess and ruthless efficiency. Herein lies the callous heart of the Empire¡¯s war machine, unburdened by the moral qualms that restrain others. No other nation is as exploitative in its relentless pursuit of efficiency. The Empire¡¯s riders are almost exclusively children¡ªchosen for their lightness, which grants their steeds greater endurance and speed. This is the cold calculus of the Empire: to harness the innocent for war. Fortunately, the Empire is currently entangled in another internecine power struggle, compounded by increasing raids from the North. But should their gaze shift toward us, their close neighbors, then Aranthia would be in peril indeed. - From the journals of Duke Ademar de Aserac. All was darkness. ¡°You fool! What are you doing!? He still needs more time!¡± came a cry filled to the brim with frustration. A male voice. My body was heavy, as if made of solid stone. Trapped within my own flesh prison, I struggled to open my eyes but it felt like trying to move mountains. System messages pushed against my consciousness, incessant and demanding. Disorientated, I could only wildly glance at them, letting them flow over me in a rapid stream. A cacophony of crashing and struggling echoed around me, accompanied by the acrid stench of burnt ozone. And then, a new voice cut through the chaos just as the last of the messages ended. The notifications continued to flow, stacking upon each other in endless repetition. You have gained¡­ You have gained¡­ repeated again and again a maddening sequence. Was I in some sort of game? Was I still dreaming? ¡°No, don¡¯t you dare! Lies, all of it. I know too the truth of the Deep Dreams¡­ and your true intent!¡± answered another voice in rebuke. It was a female voice defiant and familiar, sounding like an old friend from another life. ¡°We¡­ No, I need him now!¡± Now there was arcane chanting¡­ two voices vying with each other for supremacy. Then, there was a wet sensation across my lips, and warmth spread into my parched mouth. It tasted of sweetness and life. Reflexively, I began to drink from this most welcome ambrosia. Though some of it spilled across my face, seeping into the pores of my skin, I could still feel it working upon me. The slow warmth was eroding away the chains of my paralysis. ¡°Fool of a girl! Just because you know of a few scraps of knowledge, you think you can¡­ You have perhaps doomed man for millennia of subjugation under false¡­ and terrible gods!¡± the man¡¯s voice declared. ¡°No! You are the fool for you would have him trapped in a dream for a hundred or more years? For what!? To learn how to swing a sword or poke someone with a spear? You would have Gil wake up to a world where everyone he knows has¡­ He didn¡¯t know anything about that!¡± the female voice shouted back. Gil¡­ it was a name. Not quite my name, not even a full name, but a name nonetheless that was a part of me. ¡°He never asked, you say!? To learn from one of the greatest and most powerful beings that has ever walked upon Gesthe, second only to the Dragonslayer and Hero? An opportunity and gift that thousands would beg for on their knees! Hah! I was once like you¡­ doubting those who did not possess the Giftspark¡­¡± the male voice continued in a tone changing from anger to exasperation. There, at the tips of my fingers, I imagined that sensation and control were slowly returning to me. With a monumental effort of will, I found that I could even move my tongue¡­ "Stupid half-blood fool! That was the best way to give him a chance! Do you have any idea of the expense and resources it took to create an artificial dungeon? One has trespassed into the realm of the so-called Divines! Do you have any idea of the raw difficulty of hiding such a place in the Deep Dream? The genius and effort of several lifetimes wasted by your hasty act¡­ all lost," the male voice sounded, clearer and closer now. Despite my current predicament, the voice was so laced with defeat that I found myself feeling a pang of sympathy for its owner. My eyes opened like old creaky shutters, revealing a blurry view that was not much better than the darkness. As they slowly adjusted, a shape hovered into view. Gradually, it came into focus, revealing a young blonde girl. ¡°He¡¯s awake!¡± she exclaimed, her eyes widening into twin jade moons of excitement and joy. The girl had the strangest shape of ears¡­ A memory, engraved onto a dark part of my heart clamored to be heard, fought for control, and won. Adrenaline, the river that carried my rage, burst its bank and flooded across my body. I tried to get up, but something held me down tight. It would be of little matter. I strained against my bonds until they snapped and I exploded up from wherever it was I was lying down upon. My hand quested for her long neck, a need to crush the life out of her the strongest of desires. To answer for an event in my distant, or perhaps not so distant, past. Her eyes widened even further, horror and fear staining that which was once hopeful and bright. Taken completely off-guard, all she could do was weakly struggle as I lifted her above the ground. Her limbs flailed in protest, striking me repeatedly, but it would just be a little more until I got more of the system messages¡­ ¡°Much as one has found the girl to be a nuisance over the years, one would appreciate it if you would put her down,¡± came the voice¡­ No, a man said¡­ An acquaintance¡¯s name I was forced to dredge up from memory, for the magic would never let me forget. I focused completely on the man. ¡°Vincenzio,¡± I rasped, my voice sounding unfamiliar to me. With this name came the sense of here and now, jolting me back to the present reality. Dawning wakefulness came to me as the last scales of sleep and dreams fell from my eyes. Against my better judgment, I released the girl and she fell coughing and spluttering in a pathetic bundle. For no real reason, I had to fight the urge to kick her while she was down. ¡°You must be of course, confused and perhaps disoriented. This is, however, the first time I have seen someone waking up in such a violent manner. Perhaps it was due to the forced waking process¡­ But, I digress. I would suggest that you sit for a few moments to gather yourself,¡± the pale Necromancer rambled on. Sinking into the dream¡­ training for what seemed years and years, these memories rushed back to me, stacking up on one another. Had I come home¡­ no¡­ I was still stuck in this world. There was only one way to check. Giving Vincenzio an annoyed frown, I took a breath and mentally summoned up my Status.
[STATUS] Calling: Gilgamesh lvl.22 Paladin/Reaver
Strength: 39 Dexterity: 38 Constitution: 51 Intelligence: 29 Wisdom: 32 Charisma: 18 Luck: 28
Entropic Mimic [Creature of Entropy - lvl.26] Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
Health: 630/630 Stamina: 73/73 Mana: 1/1 Adaptive Defense (lvl.5) Shield Form (lvl.4) Absorb (lvl.3) Perception (lvl.2)
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Improved Pain Nullification (lvl.1) Improved Power Strike (lvl.5) 10 Improved Endure (lvl.5) Stealth (lvl.3) Advanced Rest (lvl.1) Backstab (lvl.2) Improved Dodge (lvl.3) Advanced Polearms (lvl.2) Improved Dual Wield (lvl.2) Improved Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.3) Advanced Unarmed Combat (lvl.4) Improved Hammers (lvl.5) Improved Flails (lvl.3) Improved Maces (lvl.2) Advanced Shields (lvl.1) Improved Medium Armour (lvl.2) Improved Heavy Armour (lvl.5) Improved Axes (lvl.3) Improved Daggers (lvl.5) Throwing Weapons (lvl.5) Double Throw (lvl.4) 5 Improved Shield Bash (lvl.3) 10 Riding (lvl.4) Improved Dash (lvl.4) 10 Advanced Swords (lvl.3) Crossbows (lvl.5) Blind-Fighting (lvl.3) Improved Rush Strike (lvl.4) 20 Tracking (lvl.1) Trap Detection (lvl.2) Improved Frenzied Strikes (lvl.3) 30 Monster Taming (lvl.2)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5) 5 Rust (lvl.5) 2 Identify (lvl.5) 1 Silent Casting (lvl.3) Improved Mana Regeneration (lvl.1) Purify (lvl.3) 3 Greater Heal (lvl.4) 10 Holy Aura (lvl.3) 2 Decay (lvl.3) 1 Greater Drain (lvl.3) 2 Improved Entropic Aura (lvl.1) 2 Inferno Bolts (lvl.3) 2 Sage¡¯s Sight (lvl.2) 2 Freezing Aura (lvl.2) 2
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% to all starting attributes. Mark of the Paladin: 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical. Embrace of the Void: 15% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 35% resistance to Mental Effects, 25% immunity to Mental Effects. Mark of the Adaptive Helix: 10% resistance to Physical, Lesser Regeneration. Mark of the Mantis: 15% greater affinity with all weapons.
Experience to next level 5312/5520
Health: 775/775 Stamina: 88/89 Mana: 22/22
I could not help but give a wicked smile as my I roamed over the information. The list was long, but took my time drinking deeply of their meaning. General improvements across the board to my attributes with my Health almost doubled. Though somewhat random, my skills and attributes had truly grown by leaps and bounds. Indeed, some of the skills I had no idea how I had improved them in the dream. Take for instance crossbow, I had no recollection of ever using one with Fen. Had just wishing for a crossbow before my final trial Fen been the reason it had improved? And what of Monster Taming? To add to this, despite the focus being on physical combat, my magical skills had also gone up by a considerable margin. Brilliant use of arcane spells had garnered me two whole new spells, Freezing Aura and Sage¡¯s Sight. I knew what Freezing Aura was, but despite everything, I could not wait to try out Sage¡¯s Sight. I laughed inwardly at my own childish reaction. On closer inspection, I noticed something else. Something rather significant that I had thought up until this point impossible. My gifts had improved namely that my Touch of the Void had changed into Embrace of the Void giving me improved defenses against mental attacks at the cost of giving me a greater weakness to fire. Useless, but who knows? It might come in handy against... psychic monsters, maybe? Not that it mattered, since I hadn''t encountered any so far. However, on a closer read-through, I noticed that my Minor Regeneration from Iasis'' Mark of the Adaptive Helix had developed into Lesser Regeneration. As an added bonus, I had received the Mark of the Mantis, granting me a greater affinity with all weapons¡ªwhatever that meant. Overall, something actually good for a change. Though I was only a bit over two hundred point away from level twenty-three, it would take an inordinate amount to reach twenty-four. But, that being said, this was one of those ¡®good¡¯ problems in life to have. My smile grew wider until I realized something¡ªI had no free attribute or skill points to allocate. Damn, this unfair game! During my training, the system must have automatically assigned my attributes and skill points as I leveled up. What a horrible waste! This also explained the random nature of the improvements to my skills and magic. "...Well, good afternoon to you, too. And your thanks was very welcome," half-spat the young blonde girl, her eyes burning with accusation and confusion. "And who are you supposed to be?" I asked, focusing intently on her. "Don''t you..." she started to answer, but I interrupted her with a raised hand, silencing her. From the stigma of her sharp ears, she seemed to be a hateful elf, if my eyes were not mistaken. But the specimen in front of me lacked their Fae features and appeared more natural. To put it crudely, it was as if a human were mimicking one of the First Children, or however the elves liked to call themselves. I spun out a spell and it took up my hand like a new partner at a dance. It wrapped around the girl, inquisitive tendrils probing this way and that. Sage¡¯s Sight.
Larynda - Chaos Water Mage [Human/Elf lvl.18]
Health: 153/175 Stamina: 22/31 Mana: 12/25 Chaotic Water Lance (lvl.1) 8 Chaotic Water Shield (lvl.2) 5
My eyes lit up in disbelief. There was only one person I knew to have such a rare combination of classes. It was simply an impossibility. ¡°Larynda¡­¡± I said, more in question than a statement. ¡°It can not be¡­¡± Book 4: The March of Time The Lirkud, or Sandray, is a monster resembling a ray fish of the oceans but adapted to the conditions of the deep places of the Whispering Wastes. These magnificent beings float effortlessly a sword¡¯s length or two above the scorching dunes, gliding with an eerie grace that belies their substantial size. Their wide, flat bodies are covered in scales that shimmer in the desert sun, giving them an alien aspect in their sandy environment. Long, trailing fins ripple like silken banners in the wind, aiding their smooth and silent movement through the air. It is said that many tribes that inhabit the Wastes, the Nas Al-Rimal, have learned to domesticate these monstrous creatures, using them as mounts to traverse their harsh land. That of course must be a lie, for it well known that the Lirkud delight in the flesh of man. - Monsters of the Mortal Realms by K. D. Fidditch. Though still somewhat disbelieving of Larynda¡¯s sudden growth spurt, I could not help how pleased I was with the result of my Sage¡¯s Sight. Sweet blessed progress, my Identify spell had evolved into a more useful version of itself, though it cost almost double the amount of Mana to use. I could now see the spells they possessed¡­ but was that all? ¡°Hello!? Are you alright? Guess, you did remember me, after all,¡± Larynda said weakly, dusting herself up as she got up. I looked her up and down, taking her choice of attire in. She wore light robes, cream in the main, but fashionably mottled with splashes of oranges and light reds and cinched at the waist with a silken sash. I was going to ask her something, but instead, I turned to the Necromancer. ¡°Is this sudden rapid growth, an elf thing?¡± I asked curiously in a voice still hoarse. He was exactly as I remembered him. With robes of a somber hue, he was the very picture of a practitioner of the dark arts. ¡°It¡¯s not an elf thing, or at least¡­ well I don¡¯t know¡­¡± she began to answer for him. ¡°Now, you will need to take this in very slowly. Please try to stay calm. You have been asleep for a very long time.¡± ¡°And, should have been for much longer!¡± harped Vincenzio shrilly. It was a far remove from his usual collected self. ¡°What are you talking about!?¡± I exclaimed, the words taking more out of me than they should have. I fought back a cough. ¡°Water¡­ some water, please. I need some water,¡± I croaked, my voice sounding hollow. The warm healing liquid from before had not been enough to quench my thirst. But even as my deep thirst demanded satisfaction, the gears in my mind had already started whirring away. At the same time, my eyes roved over faces, searching their expressions for clusters of deception. Larynda smiled, an expression that made me believe it was her. ¡°Of course, how inconsiderate of me!¡± she chuckled, her voice taking up a sing-song tone. Taking up a glass beaker from a nearby workbench, she closed her eyes as in prayer and began to chant. She chanted familiar-sounding words that I imagined I understood, but when I focused upon them their true meaning eluded me. The beaker slowly frosted, starting to fill softly with a clear liquid. A whiskered and furred creature poked out of the front of her robes, sniffing the air curiously as if sampling the magic. Suddenly, Vincenzio rapped her around the head, interrupting her spell. With a shrill squeak, the animal retreated into the depths of Larynda¡¯s clothing. The Water Calling has been broken. ¡°Stop trying to show off. Time after time. What has one told you about using your magic for mundane tasks? Every time you call upon, you come closer¡­¡± he scolded, his usually sallow features flushed with a tinge of color. ¡°What has one told you¡­¡± Larynda echoed mockingly. ¡°I know, I know¡­ Why must you treat me like a child?¡± ¡°And, to this day you do not listen. That is your answer,¡± he barked back. I clapped my hands with all the force I could muster, the strength of it shocking even me. Immediately, the pair¡¯s attention was completely focused on me. ¡°Water, please. And, an explanation before I knock your skulls together,¡± I stated evenly. I intended it as a joke, but truth be told I was sorely tempted to do it. After all, I had just had the worst sleep of my life. ¡°Yes, of course,¡± admitted Larynda sullenly, moving off to fill the rest of the beaker from a flask. I waited in patient silence. The levity of their earlier exchange now forgotten, Larynda presented my drink to me with both hands. Raising it to my lips, I drank deeply, uncaring of the stale taste. Uncaring even if it were poison. A part of me had almost expected her to kneel, for in that moment, the air seemed to thicken, laden with a gravity born of years of long-held anticipation. ¡°So, what has come to pass? You say it has been a long time. How long?¡± I questioned, draining the beaker. ¡°Five years to the day, almost,¡± pronounced the young woman wanly. My thoughts paused with her pronouncement. The shock of it was muted but still felt, blanking out my mind for a second. The Necromancer looked as if he were about to explain further, but a look from me silenced him. Limited though it was, I would place the greater trust in the person who had awakened me. I closed my eyes, sifting through their recent words. ¡°That you are a woman almost fully grown gives truth to your words Larynda. But what Kidu? Elwin? What of them? And the Lady de Aserac? Why are they not here,¡± I inquired mechanically, robbed now of my irritation and ire. Larynda drew a small wooden stool and sat down, forming a triangle and resting her chin on her hands as she looked at me. Her voice grew distant, remembering a painful memory. ¡°Kidu has gone to fulfill his En¡­ or burden of honor, or duty, it doesn¡¯t really translate well,¡± she stated, almost spitting out the words. Looking away, she adjusted her sash and calmed herself. ¡°He, we, I mean, heard the news that there was a group of North men, former slaves that fit the description of his old friends, escaped all the way here. Apparently, they got into a bit of trouble with drink and the Dust. Got into a lot of debt with the dens and became indentured servants. Their contracts got sold to a merchant who had business in Aranthia. And, since you were not getting up anytime soon¡­ he went to go find them. That¡¯s pretty much what happened to him.¡± She turned away for a moment, studiously looking at a preserved specimen floating in a glass container on a shelf. ¡°He promised on his spear that he would return. If he finds them¡­ he has the right to become an En. His tribe will have to call him Enkidu. He left me, us, two years ago for words and a title¡­¡± I shared a glance with the Necromancer who simply nodded and shrugged. If I remember correctly, there had been a quest to find Kidu¡¯s companion. A quest I had ignored for I thought it would have taken me years. Damn, this world and its stupid penalties! Was this a form of karmic retribution for wrong quest or dialogue choices? The child, no adolescent, seemed too lost in the memory. Her expression had grown clouded and distant. It was time to jog her back into the present. ¡°And Elwin?¡± I insisted, a little too sharply. ¡°After Kidu left and you being in your state. Uncle left a bit to do a bit of this and that or whatever he calls it. Have no idea what he is really up. Comes and goes like a cat. Sometimes stays for a day, sometimes a week before he¡¯s off somewhere else doing whatever it is that he¡¯s doing. He said he¡¯d be back for the tournament if he can be believed,¡± she said with an indifferent shrug.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The Necromancer smiled thinly. ¡°One rather liked that rapscallion. He had a good sense of humor at least, not like the big one. That one was trouble through and through,¡± he commented, drawing a hot look from Larynda. Vincenzio answered the young woman¡¯s look with an unblinking one of his own. ¡°What¡¯s with that look? That is the truth of the matter as one sees it. One never did understand why you liked the big one¡­ perhaps it is because you hair was of the same color. Humans really do have a tendency over bonding over the silliest of things like that. The foreign barbarian really could have washed it more often. Now talking of hair, did you know that Elwin fellow once asked me¡­¡± he rambled on in his raspy voice. He had left me before so I had never expected much from the slippery Rogue in the first place. Past behavior was, after all, always a good indicator of future action. ¡°Cordelia? What of her?¡± I cut in demandingly. ¡°She¡­¡± they both started to answer at once as if in unison. Vincenzio indicated for Larynda to continue. ¡°Since you have been¡­ asleep, she went off with a bunch of adventurers. Slew this, slew that, all in the name of Avaria, of course. You know how she was. Gold rank adventurer now and very popular with the local folk. By the way, we dared not tell her location. With the Green Road now all year round there is an almost constant stream of foreigners into the city wanting to buy up Dust¡­¡± I narrowed my eyes. ¡°What do you mean the Green Road is¡­ I mean what has any of that got to do with what happened to Cordelia?¡± ¡°Well, since travel is now easier to Al-Lazar, crossing the Wastes is a cinch, relatively anyway, which means there¡¯s more traffic and trade. Most of that from the Kingdom of Aranthia by the way. The desert is almost blooming all year round, well along the banks of the river at least! And that meant that¡­ The tribes of the deep desert, the Nas Al-Rimal, wanted their cut of the flowing wealth for they believe the sands to be their realm. The inundation of water cutting through the sands theirs by the right of heaven. So, in their greed started to harass and attack the trade route. They strike with almost impunity for they can easily escape back into the deeper parts of the Whispering Wastes¡­¡± Her words were an outpouring. A spring flood. ¡°But what has that got to do Cordelia?¡± I asked again irately. ¡°I was just getting to that¡­ the Church of the Avaria declared the Lady de Aserac excommunicated. Yet, this worked against the high ecclesiarchs, creating a rift with their believers for she is seen as almost a living saint. Not to mention, her rank as a Gold Adventurer¡­¡± I had to force myself not to roll my eyes. At least she no longer talked in her childish manner which was an improvement of sorts. ¡°So?¡± I asked, looking to the Vincenzio to hopefully expand upon this. The sallow man smoothly took up the baton of explanation. ¡°That Cordelia person accused the leaders of her Church of being but worldly priests, unable to hear the voice of her goddess and devoid of spirituality. Anyone else would be simply laughed at or accused of heresy and madness, but the little Aserac was not just anyone. The daughter of an Aranthian Duke and a bearer of one of Avaria¡¯s cursed blades to boot, her words bore too much weight to be simply ignored. The Church demanded that she prove herself. To prove that she truly heard the words of the Goddess. A compromise had to be reached to heal the deepening schism, or so my sources tell me,¡± he said with a knowing smile. He made a broad sweeping gesture with his arms. ¡°They gave the woman a holy mission, something deemed almost impossible. They demanded that she convert the tribes of the desert to the light of Avaria. Or failing that, deliver Avaria¡¯s false judgment upon them. I dare say that they thought that one way or another they could get rid of at least one nuisance to them. I do so love it when the servants of the false gods fight among themselves. By the way, I was always wondering what sort of ace you had up your sleeve. Too bad you did not utilize her properly,¡± the Necromancer finished with a thin-lipped self-satisfied smirk on his face. Damnit, another companion lost. Had my starting party just been completely taken away by the game? Was this the part where the real story began? ¡°Friends are not things to be used,¡± came my cliched response. Even to my ears, it rang hollow and trite. There was a lot to take in, but I found myself strangely able to quietly process it. Had I grown as a person? Or was this just my Wisdom and Intelligence attribute playing their parts? ¡°So, she is lost to us on a futile quest or mission?¡± I concluded, more in statement than in question. ¡°Good riddance too,¡± snorted the Necromancer I smashed my fist down. More to make a point than in actual anger. ¡°What do you mean good riddance? They were my friends and allies. They believed in me¡­ or did anyway. Now they are scattered to the four winds¡­ and I do not know even where to begin,¡± I spat out. Vincenzio raised an eyebrow. ¡°The contest has yet to even begin and you are already bemoaning your fate. What use are you to us¡­¡± He coughed, casting a guilty glance at Larynda before continuing. ¡°And you lied to me,¡± I confirmed, realizing now. Far too late. ¡°I assure you, I did nothing of the sort. I promised an easy way to grow in power. That I have provided¡­¡± Vincenzio replied as if affronted. ¡°Do you think me a fool, barbarian savage? Lies of omission are lies nonetheless. Do not presume to gainsay me in this,¡± I said flatly with a cold smile, already calculating if I could kill the Necromancer. With Larynda, victory was all but guaranteed and at level thirty-one Vincenzio would bring me a bounty of experience points. ¡°Barbarian savage!¡± he protested, disbelieving of my insult. I stood up, finding that I had complete control over my body. Rolling my shoulders, I found that no cramps or aches afflicted me, nor sores or creaking bones. No, my superior Constitution was no doubt responsible for that. He must have seen something for I saw the lines of his face grow taught. Though he hid it well, I detected the faintest whiff of fear. ¡°We have an accord¡­¡± he protested. ¡°That we do. It is the only thing that is saving you now¡­¡± The pale man¡¯s eyes bulged. ¡°One will not be threatened!¡± ¡°...that is saving you now.¡± I plowed on, ¡°You have followed through to the letter of our agreement, if not the spirit of good faith¡­¡± I fancied I saw Larynda smile secretly at this declaration. Looking at the Necromancer with suppressed anger, all I could think about was the general unfairness of it all. If I had not been as fortunate, or as quick thinking, I would have lost my very body to a long-dead shade. ¡°You would have had me sleep for hundreds of years, trapped in that nightmare? Or, if I failed to defeat Fen, she would take over my body? You forgot to mention that part of the trial. Answer me, and answer me true or things will not go well for you. This is not a threat, but a fact backed up by the power I now wield.¡± He shrugged indifferently. ¡°It was the only way. Have you not thought upon the scale of the adversaries you will face? That is my answer. Surely, all things are justified toward that higher purpose?¡± Unarmed though I was, it would be an easy thing to end him. Dark magic or no, I knew that the magic of my path was darker still. And, though it was now in the memories of a fading dream, I had once slain a legend. ¡°I will allow you the grace of explaining your actions,¡± I offered. ¡°I can do that for him. He¡¯s a¡­¡± Larynda started, but one look from me silenced her rambling. ¡°It was simply the only way to hide that realm in which you trained from the eyes of the gods. It has to be constructed with a curse as its base calculae¡­ a blessing would have drawn their attention.¡± I motioned for him to quickly go on. My patience was rapidly growing thin. ¡°The conditions of the curse, was for Fen to take over your body should you fail. A consolation prize of sorts should you not have any true potential.¡± ¡°And why was I not informed of this,¡± I questioned. ¡°One would not think to know her mind, but that in my humble opinion would have cast a shadow over the whole process. I wanted to give the best chance. Believe it or not, I wished for you to have the best of chances. By Fen¡¯s estimations, she deemed that it would have taken her hundreds to impart a fraction of her true skill upon a talentless individual¡­¡± ¡°Enough with the attempts at casual mock. I do not need any more reason than that which I already possess,¡± I warned. ¡°And you Larynda, did you not know about any of this?¡± She answered immediately with a shake of her head, ¡°No, at least not until it was too late, I mean.¡± ¡°Then Vince¡­ continue with your explanation,¡± I suggested in a somewhat neutral tone. He winced at having his name shortened and I took some petty enjoyment from his discomfiture. You get back what you put out into the world. Also, it was good to know what angered a man. To know of what levers and buttons to press to achieve a desired result. It gave you control over, no matter how small that control might be. ¡°If Fen said it would take a hundred years, then it would take a hundred years to bring you up to muster. Know that she sacrificed a portion of her soul to build that place. Every year in that realm would have given you a better chance, to hone your skills until you became powerful and skillful enough to overcome her. Larynda interrupting the process limited the time that was available to you, dangerously so. Because of her actions it is a miracle that it you and not Fen that is standing before us. That is the unvarnished truth of it. One assures you of this.¡± So that was why things seemed so rushed towards the end. Was Fen trying to fulfill her purpose, or was she simply eager to walk in the world of the living once more? Having grown doubtful of human nature, I would have wagered on the latter. "Perhaps I am Fen, pretending to be Gilgamesh. What would you do then? Would you even be able to tell, I wonder. She was a skilled liar and almost as adept in deceit as she was with a sword," I put forth to Vincenzio, trying to gauge his reaction. To my delight, his fists tightened at his sides. ¡°Then it is a good thing that I have beaten the so-called curse, and well within schedule, too. Miraculously so,¡± I observed smoothly, giving Larynda a small wink. It would do no harm to have her on my side. ¡°Just so,¡± he swiftly agreed. ¡°Do not think to ever try to deceive me again. Now, then. Tell me what else has changed in this accursed world,¡± I demanded. I had a feeling that I was forgetting something¡­ or someone¡­ Book 4: Solving Problems Many times have I counseled this esteemed body to bar entry to our glorious city for the Beastkin. Since time immemorial those blasted creatures have brought nothing but trouble to Al-Lazar. As we all know too well, a countless number of their diseased ilk have taken refuge in our sewers. The Perfumers have observed that these creatures are almost entirely rodent-like in aspect. Also, according to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, they are a truly horrendous lot, feasting upon the flesh of anything or anyone they can lay their grubby paws on. Yes, even the flesh of people! Real people! These wretched beings are a blight upon our fair city, and I implore the Council to take decisive action to expel these nefarious invaders from our midst. The very air we breathe is tainted by their presence, and our citizens live in fear of their nocturnal predations. It is our duty to protect our people and preserve the sanctity of our beloved city. - From the minutes of the Council, attributed to Council Member Ibn Khaldun the Scholar. The silence returned, almost profound, heavy with unspoken promise. Breaking it would be sacrilegious. In that moment of frozen time, I took stock of my situation, trying to determine if I had suffered from a curse or been afflicted by a blessing. Most likely, an uneven combination of the two. Five years had passed, or so they said, and I had no reason to doubt it. Larynda was living proof before my very eyes. But it begged the question: how was I even alive after five long years? Then there was the problem of the Necromancer. I still needed him, for I wanted his scroll of Animate Dead to begin my first steps down that dark path. The quest demanded it of me. ¡°You were in a state of hibernation, what little energy and sustenance you required via one¡¯s own spells. I was able to form a new spell construct, giving, rather than taking of raw life energy,¡± said the Necromancer as if reading my mind. I kept my face smooth and expressionless. How convenient, I thought to myself. ¡°So, you say. I will have to believe you.¡± ¡°Now, one must know¡­ how much did you acquire in the Dust Dream? Were you able to learn Fen¡¯s fabled techniques that humbled even the greatest of¡­¡± he asked eagerly. Irritated at hearing praise of Fen, I cut in, ¡°And was humbled in turn. I learned enough from her. More than enough to reach for the Gold of the Guild. By defeating legends you become one. You wished for me to enter a tournament, yes? Though five years late, will that be proof enough?¡± I deflected. He rubbed his chin. ¡°That you are here and not Fen is proof enough that your soul was greater.¡± I smiled, preening at the compliment. ¡°And, doing well in the tournament will be enough to garner the interest of at least one of the Holder houses. We will need their protection and influence if we are to act against the Adventurer¡¯s Guild,¡± he agreed, rubbing his chin. ¡°We must bring a measure of reform to the city.¡± ¡°Does she know?¡± I asked, pointing in the girl¡¯s direction. ¡°She knows enough,¡± answered Larynda cheekily. ¡°But that is not why I woke you up.¡± The young girl looked down and to the left. Her expression firmed and she looked me squarely in the eye. ¡°I need your help Gilgamesh of Uruk¡­¡± she started formally, before beginning to mumble ¡°...if Kidu was still with us.¡± The nerve of the girl. ¡°Well, ask away. I have barely woken up and everyone seems to need my help. I seem to have suddenly become very popular, indeed,¡± I commented sarcastically. ¡°You should not trouble yourself with the girl¡¯s problem. I will sort it out at a later date. We have matters of greater import to deal with¡­ ¡°I will hear what she has to say. I owe her that at least, despite her lack of manners,¡± I sighed, sitting back on the edge of the pallet. ¡°Is there anywhere else we can talk that is a little bit more comfortable?¡± ***** We sat around a circular wooden table, a fine piece indeed, with its surface inlaid with tiles of pearly nacre. I leaned back against my chair, stretching away five years of troubled sleep, each imagined creak of the wood like a sigh of relief. Tea was served in cups of bone china so delicate they seemed ready to shatter at a touch. The cups were so small that they required constant refilling from the mother pot. I would have laughed at the absurdity of it, but even this simple action seemed to carry a cultural weight of its own. Larynda''s focused expression as she served us was a testament to the unspoken gravity of what she was doing. I would have to be on my best behavior if I were not to offend. Alongside the tea, cut fruit was provided, their pits and seeds meticulously removed, leaving only the succulent purple flesh. These morsels of light sweetness were a fine counterpoint to the weak tea. Against common sense, I did not feel as hungry as I should have¡­ Was that because of the Necromancer¡¯s care or had I grown beyond the limits of mere mortals? When stomachs were partially settled and throats wetted, I felt it apt to renew the conversation from earlier. ¡°So why is the Green Road now a permanent thing? I thought it only appeared during the rainy season of the Grass Sea?¡± I inquired, taking a small sip. ¡°Well, you see, the rains, they never stopped. Just kept on going almost every day¡­ and the Grass Sea is, well sort of a lake now. A really big one. The traveling merchants dub it the Saltless Sea now,¡± explained Larynda. ¡°Ansan?¡± I added, hoping the worst for that cursed city. Please, let there be some small measure of justice in this world. ¡°Probably at the bottom. Hope old Ham made it away safe,¡± she answered. ¡°I would not worry for him. He¡¯s a canny one if nothing else. Now, Larynda, what do you need help with? As Hamsa entrusted you to me and you are my ward I feel a certain obligation to help you. I promise to help if I can,¡± I began, trying to sound older and more mature than I was. The Necromancer looked as if he was going to say something, but he held it back, not wanting a repeat from earlier. ¡°Gil, it''s not for me but for Naira. She¡¯s been good to us these past few years and she has never forgotten about you¡­¡± Memories came back to me with haunting swiftness. Of course, Naira and her damned daughter. And Elenora and little Theo. For this world, it had been five years, but for me, it was as if I had just woken from a very long and troubled sleep. A very long sleep. ¡°¡­ they have been asking for more money. Extorting so much that it is basically slavery in all but name. We need to do something about it!¡± I realized I had not listened to a good portion of what she had said. ¡°Of course we do,¡± I answered, unwilling to admit that I had not been paying attention. ¡°That¡¯s great!¡± she said suddenly clasping my hands and smiling brightly. Vincenzio looked studiously away, but I could almost feel him rolling his eyes. ¡°If you truly think the pair of you can deal with a powerful criminal organization, then be my guest. Do as you will, as long as this does not overly delay our plans. At the very least the lives of the citizenry will improve,¡± the pale man acquiesced with a sigh. ¡°And the guards?¡± ¡°Bought and paid for, of that there is no doubt. However, neutrality is the best that foreign gold can buy. And, as servants of the Council, the Guard might reward for you uprooting this outside influence,¡± he commented, placing both hands behind his back. ¡°Well, that¡¯s great,¡± I remarked bitterly. The Necromancer appraised me. ¡°It could be very much worse.¡± ¡°And truly, you will not aid us in this?¡± I said casually, still at a bit of a loss as to what was going on, but a bit worried now thinking that I may have bitten more than I could chew. The Necromancer placed his cup on the milky surface of the table and leaned back into his chair. ¡°One might have done so, if one was so inclined, at a later date. But now, one is well preoccupied with other matters.¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. I tsked, annoyed. ¡°No, then.¡± ¡°Just so,¡± he replied casually. ¡°Even with information? I would not presume to ask you to take an active hand,¡± I pleaded, hoping to wring the smallest concession from him. In support, Larynda looked at the Necromancer with pleading eyes and mouthed a silent please. ¡°I will give you what information I have as I come across it. Noblesse oblige would compel me to do at least this,¡± he conceded unwillingly. ¡°Well then, there is no time like the present. The faster I finish this, the faster we can get back to the main task at hand. Where is my gear?¡± I said with what enthusiasm I could muster. Experience points would be most welcome. This would just be a small side activity before I resumed the Necromancer¡¯s quest chain. ¡°Larynda knows. But one would suggest that you not use that. The Aranthian design might be a little too recognizable. I have a sizable collection of various bits of equipment in one of the backrooms. Don¡¯t ask how I acquired them for that would be a long tale indeed. Take what you like from there. One would also suggest that you cover your face, the Bulls of Heaven would not take kindly to¡­¡± ¡°They will not mind because they will all be dead,¡± I stated matter-of-factly. Surprisingly, Larynda nodded in agreement. I did not expect her to be quite so bloodthirsty. People, it seemed, could grow and change. ***** ¡°You know, thanks again,¡± Larynda said, leading me down one of the basement¡¯s corridors. ¡°Alright, here we are.¡± The young mage took out a bronze key, slipping it into a lock that failed to catch at first. After a few more attempts, the locks opened and she pushed open the door. Larynda tapped a crystal, sparking it to life with a few muttered words. The room was bathed in the purplish light of the Zajasite crystal. Before me was quite the sight, a veritable pile of armor and equipment sorted loosely into various shelves and crates lay strewn about the room. Surprisingly, no dust lay on the floor and all the pieces seemed perfectly preserved and in good condition. I entered the storage area, feeling a small buzz of electricity behind my neck as I did so. ¡°You have acted as my page before, find some pieces of armor roughly my size and help me into it,¡± I ordered bluntly. ¡°Yes, samasa!¡± she answered in jest, giving me a mocking salute. ¡°Do you wish for my help, or not?¡± She paused for a moment, looking almost nostalgic. ¡°You really haven¡¯t changed a bit from back then, have you?¡± ¡°Again, do you wish for my help, or not?¡± I repeated flatly and without emotion. ¡°Alright, alright. No need to get your knickers in a twist,¡± she replied annoyingly, but I refused to rise to it. Her turn of phrase had a distinct twist of Elwin to it. Instead, I began to sift through the disorganized armory. Slowly, we began to separate through the pieces of pieces of equipment, discarding anything too big or small or simply too outlandish. ¡°So¡­ what became of Elenora and Theo?¡± ¡°Elenora felt she had overstayed her welcome, she never did get used to working about the inn. Theo was alright with it. Sunny with her smiles. Did everything with a grin¡­¡± Heaven¡¯s forbid, women did have a way of rambling. It was about half a turn of a glass later when an idea came to me. ¡°This armor¡­ here. I have seen this before,¡± I observed, forgetting my earlier question. ¡°That¡¯s armor of the city guard. Look there at those runic inscriptions, Council armory work,¡± she answered, humming a pitch-perfect tune as she pointed at the flowing lettering. ¡°Then that is what I shall wear, or as close an approximation as is possible. I have the shadow of a plan¡­¡± Her brow furrowed in thought for a few moments. Realization came as she caught my train of thought. ¡°You know¡­ that¡¯s not actually half bad.¡± I grinned at her. ¡°I am glad that I have your approval. If we can turn the Bulls against the Guards then it will be to our advantage¡­ should our deception fail we will not have lost much. I intend to root them out one by one if I have to.¡± ***** It took another turn of the glass before we managed to assemble the rudimentary attire of a city guard. It offered less protection than I would have liked, but it would have to suffice. A mix of chainmail draped over a linen gambeson, with only the chest area shielded by solid plate. I rapped my gloved fingers on the bronze cuirass. This piece of my disguise had weathered a few dents here and there, but it had been polished to an almost mirror-like sheen. Only the cuirass bore runic inscriptions along its edges, ancient symbols that hinted at magical power, though whether runic bronze was better than simple steel, I could not say. When I asked Larynda about their meaning, she explained that they were warding runes for minor deflection. I chose not to use an Identify spell to confirm her words, deciding not to waste the Mana and trusting Larynda completely. When pressed further for a more detailed explanation, she simply shrugged before saying that they apparently helped to turn a strike, robbing some of the force from a blow. Though I did not understand the exact mechanics of it, it made sense to the gamer inside of me, if not to the realist. Perhaps being spelled with inscriptions would truly provide more protection than mundane steel? The most concerning part of my disguise was the leather gloves. They would offer little protection for my hands, barely guarding against the lightest of strikes. For my head, I had the open-faced helm of a common guard, notably lacking an officer¡¯s plume. On the Necromancer¡¯s advice, I added a chainmail hood with only the eyeslits open to cover my face, aiding in our deception. Larynda began to pick out a few pieces of armor for herself, but I stopped her. ¡°There are no women in the guard,¡± I stated flatly. ¡°If I wear enough, they won¡¯t be able to tell at all¡­ and if I keep quiet¡­¡± ¡°But can you keep quiet?¡± I remarked snidely. ¡°You may not know this, but it is in your posture, the very way you walk. A seasoned eye could tell you are not a warrior with but a single glance.¡± ¡°So, what am I to do?¡± she pouted. ¡°I believe it best you take a more supportive role. As far back as possible,¡± I suggested, strapping a belt of daggers to my waist. ¡°Where is my old gear, by the way?¡± Being a fragile girl, I wanted her well away from the fighting. Also, I did not want any experience points being funneled into her. ¡°There in that big chest,¡± Larynda sulked, offhandedly motioning to a rather large container in the corner. ¡°But I don¡¯t want to¡­ I can handle myself, you know. Not the little girl you used to know. I am damn Silver Rank!¡± ¡°And I presume my equipment has been kept in the best condition?¡± I asked pointedly, ignoring her and trying to steer the conversation back to my needs. The young girl squeezed her fists tight, before reapplying her sweet smile. ¡°This room is warded¡­ something to do with creating a bend in the River. Time is partially, well, conditionally twisted is the best I can but it in Trade. I don¡¯t know quite how it works, well not yet anyway, but time flows a lot slower in here for things that aren¡¯t living.¡± ¡°Well, that would explain¡­ well this. It would take a lot to keep all of this in good condition, I suppose,¡± I conceded thoughtfully. ¡°It would do you well to learn how to do so¡­ it would seem to be a most useful magic with a lot of applications,¡± I commented, lost in the thoughts of the possibilities. Yet, a part of me was fearful. It felt like such a magic would be the very antithesis of my own. For mine was, I realized, the power of the final change of all things. ¡°That¡¯s sort of the problem. No one knows how to do it these days. The secrets of its construction have been lost since the Cataclysm. According to old Vince, only this room, and the Library of Quas are surviving examples of its like in the known world,¡± she added, dispelling thoughts of future applications. It did mean, however, that this room was almost unique. And, unique things had a habit of being of value. ¡°Well¡­ well that¡¯s just a shame. Everything seems to just get worse instead of better. Really, a form of Entropy if you think about it?¡± ¡°Entro-what?¡± she responded, looking at me confused. ¡°A part of, how did Ankhset put it, a part of my path. My Ma¡¯at as it were. The gradual decline of order to disorder. To Chaos. Didn¡¯t we speak of this before?¡± ¡°Maybe¡­ actually, yes I think so,¡± the girl admitted, stopping her work as she thought back on the past. ¡°What time is it?¡± I queried. ¡°Late afternoon, I guess,¡± she answered, hands cinching a baldric tighter about me. Annoyed, I snapped back, ¡°Then we best get a move on.¡± ¡°Gil,¡± she replied, ignoring my tone. ¡°What now?¡± She handed me a knife, giving me a wan smile. ¡°Can¡¯t go wrong with a good knife, right?¡± Bemused, I did not answer, mechanically slipping it onto my belt. She had a point thought, you could not go wrong with a good blade for close-up work. ¡°Why are you helping? You just got woken up and you got no real reason to¡­ and you''re always angry. Elwin said almost every night you¡¯d be screaming, that¡­ that it made you angry. Angry at the world. Like why? I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m saying¡­¡± she ended weakly. ¡°Then don¡¯t say anything at all if it does not improve upon the silence,¡± I lectured. ¡°I¡¯m doing it for one of the oldest reasons in the world, money.¡± The girl laughed. Looking disbelievingly at me, she asked, ¡°What do you mean money? You¡¯re not going to get rewarded for this by the Guild you know¡­ no matter how monstrous the Bulls of Heaven are.¡± ¡°They will have a few bits and pieces lying around, of that, I am sure,¡± I lied. She looked away, not meeting my eyes. ¡°You sure don¡¯t talk like a hero from the tales¡­ but I guess Uncle Elwin was right, you sure do act like one,¡± the girl admitted. I decided to take a page from my own advice, keeping my silence close to me. A few minutes later, she finished helping me to adjust my armor with a newfound respect in her eyes. Free now to do as I wished, I rushed to the chest and threw it open. Inside, I found Aranthian plate harness, the wolf¡¯s helm causing me to smile, and my collection of weapons wrapped in oilcloth. Much to my relieved delight, I found within Bellringer, my Shocksteel Lucerne. My magical weapon. With a wry grin, I saw too the necklace I had looted from the corpse of the dead adventurer in the sewers. I would have to get Elwin to find a buyer¡­ Elwin was no longer with us, I realized lamely. ¡°I will have to send for these later. But, this I must take with me,¡± I stated, slinging Bellringer over my shoulder. Larynda just shrugged at this, passing me a simple knobbed mace, and long handled-steel dagger in a dark wooden sheathe. ¡°I saw lots of the City Guards with these,¡± she explained. ¡°It will help add some authenticity.¡± I thanked her, hooking the mace and attaching the dagger to my belt. Removing my helm and chain coif, I looked at Larynda pointedly. ¡°Vince got any spare robes? I have a feeling it will not be the best of ideas to leave here looking like a member of the City Guard.¡± Book 4: Information Memories give rise to one¡¯s inclination, but it is the soul that gives our will direction. - Vincenzio Barbierri. Whatever magic the Necromancer used to preserve me had faded. My bodily urges returned, and I found myself needing to use his bathroom. The flowing water was a technical marvel for this place, but for me, it felt like an experience from the third world. Making sure to wash my hands, I rejoined Larynda in the ancient storage room. I shuddered as I remembered the countless times I watched others refuse to wash their hands after doing their business, both in this world and my old one. In the end, I decided to take some time to sort through my gear. I stuffed my looted plate harness into a large oiled-leather rucksack we found in the corner, along with my crossbow and assortment of weapons. Not expecting to need them immediately, I placed the potions, Hamsa¡¯s concoctions, in a side pouch of the rucksack. Seeing the potions, a look of faint nostalgia crossed Larynda¡¯s features, accompanied by a wisp of a smile. It made me think for a moment and, deciding to err on the side of caution, I placed the potions in a satchel we found to take with me. ¡°We''ll send for the rest later once we¡¯re done,¡± I said, more to remind myself. ¡°Where have you been while I was asleep?¡± ¡°You always did like repeating yourself, don¡¯t you? I¡¯ve still got a room at the Begonia¡¯s. Do a few chores now and then, help out a bit here and there,¡± Larynda replied wistfully. ¡°You do, do you? I still have a place to return to, I take it?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right, you sure do! Naira¡¯s one of those sentimental types. She kept your room for you, you know. Never lets guests in there,¡± she answered cheerfully. ¡°Brought your things down to Vince¡¯s once the trouble started.¡± ¡°And what of¡­ what was her name¡­ Zariyah? Yes, Zariyah,¡± I asked as casually as I could. Larynda rolled her eyes, and I had to tamp down an urge to cuff her around the head. ¡°Oh, her¡­. Ooohhhh. You liked here didn¡¯t you. Uncle Elwin always said she played you like a lute, she did. His words, not mine, mind you. Oh, right, where to begin? She had the whole street gossiping for months and months,¡± she started to ramble, the words flowing and clashing against one another without pause. ¡°¡­Well, one of the merchant princes of a Shareholder house took a right fancy to her when he was slumming it down here with the commoners. Anyways, he wanted her in his seraglio, the fancy place where rich people keep their stable of women¡­¡± she explained, looking meaningful at me. ¡°I know what a seraglio is,¡± I said with a minor note of irritation, gesturing for her to carry on to her main point. She nodded to herself. ¡°Well, of all things. She sold herself off to him! Signed one of those contracts things and everything¡­ like the one she used to have with you. Gave all the money to her mother and just went off and left¡­ It was a really big thing¡­¡± I stood up with a creak of metal, moving towards the door. ¡°Where is she now?¡± ¡°Wait! Wait! That¡¯s the thing, it was one of the scions of House Alim. But! But!¡± she continued, blocking off the entrance and holding up her hands. ¡°One day she just disappeared. Gone. Nothing. Those girls inside that big palace of theirs are locked up tighter than any vault. Was the whole talk of the city!¡± she explained. I stopped. Absurdly, as if to punctuate her explanation, and for no reason that I could explain, I saw the experience counter on my Status go up by one. Was I getting experience just from exchanging gossip and news? I highly doubted it¡­ ¡°Alright, so where is she now?¡± I tried to ask smoothly, a fixed smile on my face, She glanced sideways. ¡°No one knows¡­ but there were rumors.¡± ¡°With her mouth, she was probably killed, no doubt,¡± came my matter-of-fact reply. Larynda shook her head in disagreement. ¡°No, with the king¡¯s ransom that they paid for her¡­ no way. She was too valuable for that! Far, far too valuable to be killed just like that. I think.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± I said holding my head in one of my gloved hands. ¡°What¡¯s an o-kay?¡± I had slipped. ¡°It means, alright,¡± I explained, closing my eyes, realizing that too many things had happened in the time that I was trapped in the dream. Kidu promised to watch over me while I slept, but promises grew thin with the passing of the years. Elwin had promised undying loyalty since I healed his hand but was now the gods know where. Cordelia had basically worshipped the ground I walked upon. Everybody, it seemed, had a penchant for betraying me.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Zariyah, well Zariyah, I had been expecting. For some reason, I felt that Zariyah becoming part of some rich man¡¯s harem hit just that little bit harder. Added to this was the fact that these blows had all come at once¡­ Well, it was enough to make even the strongest of men morose. There was a light punch on my arm. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry! You still got me!¡± Larynda tried to reassure, her hands beating her chest with one hand. Looking curiously at her, I was momentarily stunned by her bold claim. I decided to correct her. ¡°I believe you are in error, it is you who has me. That is the reason that you brought me back from the dream of Dust, correct?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right! You and me, and a little bit of Vince, are more than enough for this. Don¡¯t you worry, we¡¯ll show the Bulls a thing or two!¡± she announced with a bright, sunny smile. I was about to give a sarcastic response before I saw the familiar figure of Vincenzio suddenly filling up the door. ¡°You have to stop doing that Vince¡­¡± Larynda complained, having been taken completely off-guard. ¡°One will stop doing this¡­ the day you, and the others like you, cease calling me Vince,¡± was his annoyed response. Despite my distrust of him, I felt a pang of sympathy. There was something about extended doses of Larynda that distinctly annoys. He turned to me, hiding his hands in the folds of the sleeves of his dark robes ¡°You have a plan?¡± ¡°Walk into wherever they are holed up and slaughter as much of them as I can. They won¡¯t be expecting it and none of them can best me. There is an elegance to simplicity,¡± I answered, audible cracking my neck in a show of bravado. He nodded. ¡°It is common knowledge where their main stronghold is in the city, the compound near the Exchange. But their other bases will not be so easy to find, that is where¡­¡± ¡°You come in, yes? My thanks,¡± I cut in pre-emptively. ¡°Yes, the faster we get this over with, the faster we can continue with our original goals. Oh, and before I forget, this is for you.¡± He walked up to me, crossing the threshold of the storage room. Reality seemed to fold slightly, his image distorting as he came closer. He came up to me and handed me a small box. ¡°You will need money if you are to survive in Al-Lazar. I took the liberty of investing your assets in the Exchange. You have made a lot in profit while you have slept.¡± Leaning in closer, whispering in my ear. ¡°Make sure you kill some of them in ways that are horrific and painful. That way their souls will linger for longer in this plane, allowing for me to extract information from them. Open this when you have finished your assault at their main of operations, there is something alongside the money that will direct you to where their remaining dens or members are.¡± He pulled away, giving me a thin-lipped, calculating smile. There was more to it than he gave on. An urge to open the box was upon me, a need to sate my curiosity. However, a part of me felt that this sudden desire was not quite exactly all my own so I fought it back. ¡°Larynda is of one purpose with us. She too understands the threat that Kaila de Arancrai and the Adventurer¡¯s Guild represent, and has at least until today, played her part well.¡± The half-elf rolled her eyes. Unperturbed, he continued, ¡°How the Evil Mother has sunk her claws deeply into that institution. It must be uprooted by any means necessary,¡± he pronounced, the last few words ringing with uncharacteristic passion. ¡°One will ask again, The Bulls of Heaven are a powerful gang and number in the scores, are you sure you are capable of the task?¡± There would be no refusal to this call, for it aligned too well with my own desires. I smiled grimly. ¡°Their numbers matter not. No matter how much trash gathers before me, trash is ultimately still trash. More importantly, you are sure the City Guard will not intervene?¡± ¡°It an almost certainty. As I have explained before, as creatures of the Council, foreign gold can at best buy the neutrality of the City Guard, not their aid. There is no love for Aranthia in the city at this moment. You do not have to slaughter them to the man, just strike a great enough blow that they will have to reconsider their place in the city.¡± ¡°He¡¯s right Gil, we just need to show them some strength. The Bulls are basically cowards. Also, the City Guard are just plain lazy. Waste of the taxes we all pay, too!¡± chipped in Larynda, grumbling towards the end. It sort of made sense. Law enforcement, no matter the age, era, or even world, had a tendency to either grow complacent or corrupt. In Al-Lazar, if these two were to be believed, it was a perfect combination of the two. ¡°Very well then, we had best start now. I am as ready as I will ever be. Come Larynda,¡± I declared. The Necromancer bowed to me. ¡°One would appreciate if you took care of the girl, she can be a nuisance at times, but she has grown on¡­¡± ¡°I understand. I have always done, and will always do so,¡± I promised without a moment¡¯s hesitation. With this pronouncement, Vincenzio bowed a touch deeper. Flustered at my words, Larynda looked away. ¡°I will send someone for the rest of my gear,¡± I said in the passing as I left the storage room, a feeling of dislocation overcoming. It soon passed and I crossed the back into the Necromancer¡¯s laboratory proper. I turned to the right and began to walk down a corridor. ¡°Gil! That¡¯s not the way out,¡± blurted Larynda. I paused in midstep and swiftly turned around. ¡°Of course, it is,¡± I admitted. Strangely, of Vincenzio, there was no sight. ¡°These robes are from Vince,¡± she said, holding out a dark cloth bundle for me. With a sigh, I removed my weaponry, baldric, pouch, and belt from about my person. After slipping the robes over my head, Larynda helped me to put them back on, patting me on the back once she was done. ¡°It¡¯s this way, Gil!¡± she bubbled, almost skipping as she led me through the underground lair of the Necromancer. Dried herbs dangled from the rafters, casting flickering shadows over the cluttered room. Wooden shelves, laden with an eclectic array of specimens suspended eternally in crystal glass, lined the walls. The workbenches groaned under the weight of alchemical tools¡ªalembics, mortars, calculators, retorts, and other arcane instruments of their ilk. Ensconced at precise intervals along the walls, Zajasite crystals of a bright, shining blue bathed the chamber in an eerie light. Among the curiosities, open crates filled with white, bleached bones drew particular attention, their stark presence a grim reminder of the Necromancer¡¯s sinister purpose. I had to admire the brazenness of a man who had set up shop beneath his very enemy. Finally, we reached the heavy doors of the entrance. I traced a hand across the heavy, dark wood, thinking back on all that happened to me so far. I quivered slightly, the prospect of slaughtering a score of criminals a heady thing for me. I wanted my next level, no, I needed it. My soul demanded that I offer up their souls for sacrifice on the altar of my progress. Book 4: Poor Deception Ah, the Sim Edin, the great desert better known as the Whispering Wastes. It is said that the people of the deep desert of Sim Edin, the Nas Al-Rimal, worship no gods. That is false. For centuries, these so-called primitives have worshipped the very land that sustains them: the Sim Edin itself. The desert is both their god and their adversary, a vast expanse of shifting dunes and jagged rocks that seems to breathe and pulse with a life of its own. The people of Sim Edin, hardened by generations under the relentless sun, have learned to read the subtle signs and whispers of the desert, treating it with the reverence one would show a deity. They believe the desert speaks to those who listen, revealing secrets buried beneath the sands and warning of dangers that lie ahead. The Nas Al-Rimal live in scattered tribes, each with its own customs and rites, yet united in their veneration of the desert. Their rituals are stark and brutal, much like the land they inhabit. When a child is born, they are taken to the heart of a dune at dawn, their tiny body placed on the burning sand, to be judged by the desert itself. If the child survives until the sun reaches its zenith, they are deemed blessed by Sim Edin and welcomed into the tribe. Those who perish are said to have been claimed by the desert, their souls becoming part of its eternal essence. Life in Sim Edin is a ceaseless struggle against the elements. The sun blazes mercilessly during the day, and at night, the temperature plunges, bringing a chill that cuts to the bone. Water is more precious than gold, and the tribes have learned to draw it from the most unlikely places ¨C the heart of a cactus, the morning dew trapped in the folds of a dune, or the rare and sacred oasis that appears like a mirage in the distance. The birth of the Green Road is their most holy and reverent of events. The tribes flock as one, putting aside any and all conflict, to the straight river, collecting and storing as much fresh water as they can. They detest, but tolerate, the foreigners traveling across the Green Road. They trade with them only reluctantly or toll them with great glee excessively. Such is the way of the people of the sands. The Nas Al-Rimal are nomads, constantly moving to avoid the wrath of the sandstorms that can swallow entire legions. Their tents are made from the hides of the desert beasts they hunt, their food a mix of dried meats, hardy grains, and the occasional sweet date plucked from the rare palm tree that dares to grow in such a harsh climate. Among them, the storytellers hold a place of honor. These bards of the sands weave tales of ancient heroes who tamed the wild desert, of battles fought under the scorching sun, and of the mysteries that lie hidden beneath the sands. They speak of the Guardians, colossal serpentine creatures that dwell in the deepest part of the desert, their scales the color of the volcanic rock, their breath hotter than a furnace. Some say the Guardians are the protectors of the desert''s greatest treasure, others believe them to be the very embodiment of the desert''s fury. In this land of extremes, the people of Sim Edin have forged a bond with their environment that is as unbreakable as the desert itself. They do not fear the desert; they respect it, honor it, and in their own way, love it. To them, the Sim Edin is not just a place ¨C it is a living, breathing entity, a great spirit that walks among them, shaping their lives and destinies with each grain of sand that shifts in the wind. - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC. The boy Rogiere smiled inanely, rubbing his hands together as he showed me the way. He had an intense, yet unfocused stare, as he looked this way and that which was unnerving to say the least. No doubt he was an idiot or mentally challenged. He led me across a gravel-strewn path through various buildings to the heart of the compound. We passed all sorts of men and women, mostly of Western-looking descent¡ªAranthian, if I had to guess from their accents and speech. Local laborers, whether indentured or otherwise, were also present, transporting heavy bundles, cleaning, cooking, and performing countless other tasks assigned to the help. Most of the men here were armed to various degrees, and those that were bore the sign of the Bull on their breast. Due to this, despite it being the beating heart of a criminal organization in the city, the compound felt more like a poorly run military camp¡ªperhaps a small militarized colony, if I had to put a finger on it. In fact, the only visible sign of criminality was seeing two soldiers pawing a girl who was clearly underage. I looked away, trying to erase the sight from my mind. I had a greater purpose, but I felt I had betrayed a part of myself by not intervening. Rogiere led me to a structure that looked like a cross between a fortified mansion and a keep. Squat and made of sandstone, it dominated the compound. Four guards stood at the entrance, hard-eyed men who looked like they had done harder things. I sampled their information, immediately cursing myself for wasting my Mana. Low-level trash that were not worthy of regard. A part of me was glad that whoever designed or created this world, for better or worse, had not included autoscaling in its architecture. ¡°Me¡­ Meeting the boss man,¡± Rogiere stuttered as he bobbed his head at the guards and me before wandering off, rubbing his hands and laughing. As he returned to whatever tasks awaited him, I wondered if the holy magic of Greater Heal could cure the malady of his mind. "What have we got here?" started one of them, a burly fellow who was almost as wide as he was tall. Not fat, I noted, but composed of meaty chunks of muscle. The man spoke as Cordelia did, rougher, but with the same lilting patterns of accent. My own accent would seem at least different, perhaps foreign to him, stained as it was with the local influence. A layer of deceit that would work in my favor. Here we go again. I was almost tempted to start my reign of havoc right then and there, but thought better of it. It would be wise to at least try to handle this diplomatically. To milk the element of surprise for whatever it was worth. ¡°I am of the City Guard under orders from the Captain Alim of House Alim to deliver an urgent message in person to your boss,¡± I declared in an imperious voice. ¡°Alright, that be all well and good,¡± he admitted with a small nod. ¡°But, you¡¯ll be needing to leave your weapons here with us.¡± I straightened, bristling at his command as I imagined a member of the City Guard would. "I see that you mistake me for casual scum of your ilk. I am a Guard of the Council, permitted my arms at all times and in all places. Stop playing these childish games and allow me entry to deliver my message, or bring your leader outside. I care not which. Or perhaps an inspection of this compound for illicit contraband is in order," I demanded, my casual disdain helping to cement my bluff. ¡°Or, are the Bulls so afraid of a single man?¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. An older guard, his face a map of scars and wrinkles, signaled to the wide one with a quick motion of his head to let us through. The old man opened the door for me, and together we stepped into the main entrance. It was a gorgeous display of muted, elegant wealth. Twin staircases, carved from alabaster marble with ebony rails, ran up to the second floor. The floors were a patterned mosaic of purples, reds, and light blues in an arabesque pattern. A magnificent display of cut flowers set in a large mist jade vase served as the centerpiece, drawing the eye. The scent of the flowers mingled with the cool air of the chamber, a sharp contrast to the dust and heat outside. I resisted the urge to let my gaze wander further, lest I be mistaken for a country boor. We were met by a round, fat man wearing tightly fitting black and white silks, with lace frills at his sleeves and collar. He waddled slightly due to his girth, giving him the appearance of a constipated penguin. The seneschal of this manse, I guessed. The fat man sniffed at us condescendingly. "Who is this, Nolan?" ¡°Vivek,¡± the old guard Nolan acknowledged. ¡°A member of the Guard with a message for the Master. He claims it is urgent business.¡± ¡°This simply will not do, Nolan! The Master Deschanel will not see anyone without a prior appointment. There is a reason that things must be done as they are¡­¡± Vivek almost squealed in protest. The fat man gathered himself and commanded gruffly, ¡°Wait here a moment. I will need to announce you to Master Deschanel.¡± Without further ado, he sniffed again and made his way up the stairs. Nolan and I waited silently in the hallway, like supplicants at a temple. A few long minutes later, Vivek called out from the top of the stairs, ¡°He will see you now!¡± I started to make my way up, with Nolan following a pace behind. A glare from Vivek stopped the older man in his tracks, making him shrug his shoulders and turn around. Alone, I climbed the stairs to the right, ignoring the various pieces of artwork displayed on the walls. Once I reached the top of the stairs, Vivek gave me a nod and gestured for me to follow him down the corridor. In contrast to the subdued elegance of the main hallway entrance, the corridor was lined with what seemed to be the ravaged spoils of far-off kingdoms. A brigand¡¯s horde. Tapestries of fine weave, banners, and silk pennants were strewn across the walls with little regard for their placement. There, a jeweled sword hung on the wall, its bent and broken blade a testament to its failure. Nearby, a decorated helm inlaid with sapphire and ruby lay cracked upon a wooden pedestal. Trophies of war, if I were not mistaken. The owner of this place clearly wanted to make a statement. Vivek knocked twice on a wooden door, announcing my presence in his shrill voice before opening it for me. It felt like I was being introduced to court. I stepped into the heart of the dragon¡¯s den with a lion¡¯s smile. Into the heart of opulence. Gold, gold was everywhere. It adorned the walls, the windows were edged in it, even the corners of the tiles on the floor. A king¡¯s ransom of it was on decadent, almost garish display. A man sat behind a wide wooden desk inlaid with precious metal. Wings of white streaked through his raven hair at the sides, framing an angular face. His sharp, dark eyes had a slight upward tilt, and a patrician''s nose perched above a mouth perpetually twisted into a smirk. I found myself disliking him immediately. Behind him stood a bald giant that rivaled Kidu in size, a mountain of bone and muscle that looked like he could crush my skull with his bare hands. The giant wore a series of interlocking bone plates for armor, his helm the skull of a horned animal. In the corner of the room, a study or office if I was to be precise, a mousy scribe of nondescript features sat hunched over a small desk, writing entries into a record. On any other day, my eyes would have overlooked him, but there was something to him that I could not quite place a finger on. On a cushioned divan, two raven-haired women lounged in almost scandalous clothing, drinking wine from delicately fluted glasses distracted me. Like seneschal, their sleeves with frilled with lace, but the bodices were cut low. Were they still, they could have been taken for words of art. The women were cut from the same bolt of fine cloth, sisters I deduced. A twin sight that threatened to trap the eye. ¡°You have a message for me? Speak, and be quick about it. Also, I would know the face and name of the one that speaks in the name of the Council,¡± the man behind the desk commanded, drawling the last of his syllables. This man, he did have an Aranthian accent, which I found odd. ¡°The message is for the foreigner Deschanel only,¡± I stated testily. ¡°I am under orders to reveal nothing else, only to deliver my message. You do not need to know my face or my name. I have family in the city, and I will not be threatened by the likes of you.¡± ¡°Speaking!¡± The man behind the desk rolled his head back and let out a confident laugh. There was something forced behind it, an element of poor theater. I sensed a lie, but couldn''t discern the true reason for it. ¡°You have some backbone, don¡¯t you? The balls on you. You must be one of those high-level Nee-pee-shees!¡± the sharp-eyed man added jovially, still chuckling to himself. The women shared a guilty glance, and the scribe in the corner paused in his writing, stiffening as if he had suffered an insult. I clenched my fists at the being called an NPC. How dare he! Wait a moment¡­ wait a moment¡­ Him, the voices demanded, whispering in the silent places of mind. Trusting them, but wanting confirmation nonetheless, I cast Identify on the man behind the desk. The man with the false laugh. A desire, a consuming need, I wanted him more than anything. My face flushed and I was glad that my features were hidden behind a layer of metal links.
Randal Jeffries - Flame Warden [Human lvl.19]
Health: 261/261 Stamina: 36/36 Mana: 16/16
Randal, Randal, Randal. His sixteen Mana compared to my twenty-two revealed him as a magic user, albeit a poor one. He was vastly inferior to me in every way. My soul sang to me, urging me to take his life. Flame Warden or not. How sweet your attempt at poor deception, the voices whispered. Do it, they cried, their incessant whispers like a lover in the throes of passion. How easy it would be to surrender to the allure of crimson violence. Randal, I want you so. But wait a while, for there is something I must know, the voices and I whispered together in unison to ourselves. My thoughts came in a rolling rush, disorganized and addled with wanton desire. Causation and fate are required for the destined to meet. I had sensed the markings of fate before; her shadow had been cast many times over my life. Her hand, I felt, was in this encounter, Quest or no Quest. Following this thread, this calling of the universe, I sent my magic to taste the scribe in the corner.
Aschart Deschanel - Rogue [Human lvl.15]
Health:206/206 Stamina:37/38 Mana:17/17
It was my turn to laugh now. A Rogue with high Mana, how adorable. Did he not know how to build a character? Book 4: The Justice of the Strong Our short lives are composed of countless moments that seem insignificant when compared to the greater whole. Then, comes a day, a test, a trial, a singular instance that defines the future after it forever more. It is then that we must find our courage and strength. - The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC. The invitation to the dance had been extended, and now it was time to take the floor. An Improved Entropic Aura seethed from me, a hungry grey tide that washed over everyone in the room. The first wave brushed against them, then the second, and the third. Only by the fourth did they register that something was very wrong, as the raw truth of the universe began to eat away at them. The pathetic creatures exchanged fearful glances, daunted by my majesty. The belligerent mountain of flesh finally drew his weapon, a great wooden club banded with iron, and the twin women started to reach for something behind the divan. Iron that could burn. But first, Greater Drain demanded release. It was a shame that my build required a bit of setup time before truly shining. The voices came to my aid, those steadfast allies who had advised and supported me through my darkest hours. Together, we quickly formed the spell construct, a dark paradox of impossibility. From the Rogue, knives flew my way, a trio of swift metal birds propelled by wings of desperate futility. There were thunks of impact as my Mimic formed a circle of wood and metal, blocking them. Great serpents of dark void night shot out from my free hand, snaking their way to everyone in the room, wrapping around their very existence. The nectar of the gods. There was a pulse, a beat of a heart, and delectable life energy flowed into me, feeding a long-repressed hunger. A hunger that demanded more. Enervated by the stolen energy, I felt as if I had become a god. This was raw might. This was raw power. I saw Deschanel, the Rogue with the crippled build, reach for a sconce on the wall. Stop him, the voices advised. Activating Improved Rush Strike, I launched myself at the leader of the Bulls, closing the distance between us in the blink of an eye. Having yet to draw my weapon, or even seeing the need to for that matter, I settled for a kick to his shins. I expected to trip him at best, so the snapping of bone was a welcome surprise as a shard of white and pink poked out. He fell to the floor with a musical scream, dropping the knife he held and lifting my spirits even further. There was an impact against my back, a flare of heat that I barely felt. Thank you, Improved Pain Nullification my constant and true companion. I pivoted around to see that the twins had grabbed staves and had their eyes closed as they chanted. Across the room, Randal, my fated one, wielding an elemental sword of fire in one hand and a small ball of fire in another. A burning ball which he threw at me, screaming out the name of the spell, even as the giant man with the club rushed at me, swinging his great weapon. Thinking to step out of the way of these two attacks, I started to move just as the twins finished chanting. Magical thorny vines grasped at my legs and arms, trapping me and stopping me. It was a perfect example of well-timed teamwork and would have worked against anyone else. Such a shame that despite their efforts they simply could not gulf the raw level of power difference between us. The giant¡¯s weapon descended on a course to my head. Annoyed, I activated Improved Shield Bash, empowering my Mimic to protect against his strike. The oversized weapon met an equally ridiculously sized form of protection as Improved Shield Bash intercepted it. My Mimic had formed with record speed a copy of Gersal¡¯s spiked tower shield. I huddled behind my massive shield as I felt a splash of liquid head wash over. Between the two attacks, my Mimic Shield suffered a total of forty points of damage to its Health, considerable but not critical. My green, gold-flecked bar had filled up by a sliver and my own Health was still well above seven hundred and already starting to climb back up. With a nasty smile, I noticed that the vines that had been trapping me had already started to blacken and wilt. I snapped them off, freeing myself from the immobilization spell¡¯s clutches. The giant had already begun to swing his weapon in a follow-up blow. I had to give him credit for his effort; he was certainly trying. Fighting someone, I had learned, was in part a war of information. What should you conceal? What should you reveal? These were all part and parcel of the cut and thrust of combat. The large man was already aiming for my head with his club, his swing on a similar trajectory to before. But I saw it for what it was¡ªa simple deception. It was written in his stance, the way he held himself, and his eyes, in bright, bold script. I dodged the blow of his club and the kick that soon followed. Almost as an afterthought, I grabbed him, and his eyes widened in disbelief as my fingers dug deep into flesh and sinew. They widened even further as I smashed him against the spikes of my shield with my superior strength. His look of surprise as I repeatedly impaled his torso brought savage joy to my heart. I kicked him off, his corpse making a bloody mess on the floor as the notification of his death flashed across my vision. ¡°Clarissa¡­ Isabella, get out of here! He¡¯s too much for us! Get some bloody help!¡± Randal commanded desperately, his voice laced with conflicting terror and bravery.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Ran! The Boss!¡± they cried back, almost in unison, their lovely faces twisted with fear and concern as they shook their heads in denial. Something snaked between the links of the mail at the back of my legs, cutting something important, and I fell to one knee in muted agony. The bloody Rogue had backstabbed me while I was distracted. Snarling, I grabbed at Deschanel¡¯s weapon ripping it from his grip and planting it through his hand a few inches deep into the tiled floor. He gave out a fresh howl that spurred his subordinates to fresh action. The Flame Warden Randal charged at me, launching another small ball of fire midstride. I batted the fire aside, the leather of my gloves blackening at the impact as I suffered minor damage. On an instinctual level, I knew that my Improved Entropic Aura was dulling much of the spell''s edge. He roared as he approached, swinging his sword in a wide, flaming arc. Randal, poor Randal, you might as well have shouted what you were going to do. To my delight, I noticed that his face was growing sallow, my magic leeching his vital energy. Hobbling, I ducked the searing blade and commanded my Mimic to withdraw. Drawing the knife at my belt, I clumsily launched myself at him using my Improved Rush Strike skill and in one smooth motion stabbed Randal in the thigh, tackling him to the floor. Like Deschanel, he started to scream his lungs out, his flaming sword disappearing back to wherever it had come from. The ladies watched this exchange in horror, guilt twisting their features in a sublime expression of pain. Come now, he told you to run, I thought to myself as I slowly got up, kicking Randal as I did so. The damage the Rogue had inflicted was already healing rapidly and my leg was weakened but strong enough to walk on. I saw on their faces one of the true faces of humanity with its veneer of nobility ripped off. The need to survive at all costs was a simple one and in that focused simplicity all the stronger. All it would take was one last push. A reminder of sorts that they would carry with them to their dying days to assuage their guilt. ¡°I believe Randy here told you to run,¡± I offered, gesturing for them to go. Much as I wanted experience points, it would be a waste to turn their beauty to so much dust. ¡°Run along now, he asked you to get help, right? I will wait. Hope that helps you with your decision.¡± The two women exchanged a look, their eyes never leaving the screaming Randal as they backed out of the room before fleeing with their tails between their legs. ¡°Randal of the Distant World¡­ we will return for you. You will pay for this Council scum!¡± one of the sisters declared. I simply shrugged. There was a story here if I cared at all, which I did not. ¡°Now, Mr. Deschanel¡­¡± I turned around to find my other screaming victim who had grown quiet. Oh no, there he was slumped against the wall, cradling his bloody and broken leg. The shock, blood loss, and Greater Drain combined with my Improved Entropic Aura must have all combined to unfortunately finish him off. Shame, I wanted to have a few words with him. Well, that¡¯s what you get for being all sneaky stabby. Oh, well it was time to deal with Dandy Randy. ¡°Oh, won¡¯t you stop screaming for a moment there Mr. Jeffries,¡± I began in English. ¡°Don¡¯t you have a Health potion or something you can use?¡± I suggested in a friendly voice. ¡°Good idea. Wait¡­ you can speak English? Thank god, man¡­ Thank God¡­You¡¯re not one of them! Thought I was all by myself on this shithole of a place¡­¡± he replied through gritted and pained teeth, grasping at his thigh to stem the bleeding. Despite being in agony I saw relief and hope fill him. ¡°Wait¡­ fuck¡­ you know my name, how? Do I know you?¡± he asked, looking bemused. The man had such a potty mouth. A need filled me, a need to splash more crimson across the gold and white marble floor. I had to hold myself back. ¡°Look, we don¡¯t have much time. How did you get here¡­ mate?¡± He laughed weakly, holding up a hand and reaching for a pouch at his waist and producing a vial filled with red liquid. A Health potion if I was not mistaken. Randal unstoppered it with shaky hands, and drank from it, a fair portion of it spilling from his lips across his face and neck. ¡°Now, that¡¯s better! Hot damn wish we had these back in the States,¡± Randal exclaimed in relief. I noticed that his Health had gone back up to a reasonable level. His Mana, however was hovering around two points, perhaps enough for a single spell. ¡°How I got here¡­ Right, was on route 375 when there was like these bright lights. Next thing I know, complete whiteout. Bham! Then I¡¯m like sitting in front of this old dude¡­ Kaes Loka or just Loco Loco¡­ you feel. I get to choose my path. Gave me a Blessing of Understanding, or something. Just like in those dweeb games¡­ Then I was in this circle and the two girls were in some fancy magic robes and shit. Says I was like the chosen one,¡± he explained rapidly, his words coming out like bullets from a machine gun. ¡°I see¡­ I had much the same experience,¡± I replied, stopping myself from gritting my teeth. Jealousy at his welcoming start threatened to reignite the murderous fire in my heart. ¡°Hey, do you get experience points and levels? Can you see your Status?¡± ¡°What you talking about? Man, you sound like one of those nerds¡­¡± he said, trying to sit up. I gave him a serious look of reproach. Faintly I could hear the sound of footsteps approaching. ¡°Naw man¡­ don¡¯t know what you are talking about¡­¡± he looked around shiftily. ¡°Quests¡­ do you get Quests?¡± I demanded, insistent. ¡°And why are the Bulls making a power play in the city?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know about that. Fuck man, I¡¯ve been here a few months. Was just brought on with the girls to protect the boss man, the Deschanel dude¡­ like that did him any good,¡± he explained saluting his cooling corpse. ¡°Look man¡­ I¡¯m dead if I stay here. Help me out and I¡¯ll sort you out, promise. How the hell did you deal with Gengor like he was baby¡­ the man was a beast. I saw him once¡­¡± The rat was playing for time. ¡°If you do not have the information I seek, then you are less than useless to me,¡± I stated coldly, putting an end to the charade. My patience was wearing thin, and the powers that be demanded sacrifice. He looked extremely worried for a bit before I sheathed my dagger, an action that made him breathe a sigh of relief. A sigh that was short-lived, for I soon unslung my Lucerne, rolling it around with my wrist. Seeing his end, Randal started to whimper like a whipped cur. ¡°Why do you have to do this, man? Just stop¡­ please¡­¡± A sadistic smile lit a flame in my eyes. ¡°Make it worth my while. What can you offer me? Beg me,¡± I teased, remembering the Necromancer¡¯s instructions as I savored his fear. I could hear a large group forming beyond the heavy doors of the study. I knew all too well the clank and jangle of armor. The tendrils of the Greater Drain sought for something beyond the door. They latched onto their earlier targets and I knew then that the twins had returned. ¡°Got given stupid fire powers when all I want is just a damn cool beer! Money¡­ you want money right? Or, Look, the girls, right? They¡¯re beautiful, yes? I¡¯ll give you one of them. Which one do you want¡ªClarissa or Isabella? Damn, I¡¯ll give you both of them! They¡¯re wild in the sack¡­ just spare my life, man, please,¡± he whined, slipping between his native English and the lingua franca of this world. Intrigued for a moment, a new temptation fought and wrestled for control with my earlier desire. Well played, Randal. Well played. As if the universe was bending over backwards to accommodate the drama unfolding, a group of armed men led by the two girls burst in just in time to hear the tail end of the coward¡¯s offer. I threw my head back and burst out in laughter. Book 4: Exit Stage Left A dream is like a letter from our unconscious minds, a missive delivered in the stillness of night, penned in the cryptic language of symbols and emotions. Each night, as we drift into slumber, our conscious defenses fall away, and the hidden parts of our psyche come alive. These dreams, often surreal and enigmatic, are the way our unconscious mind whispers its thoughts, fears, desires, and unresolved conflicts. - On Dreams and Reality by Master Bertrand of the University of Quas. ¡°Get away from him!¡± one of the raven-haired sisters cried, her face a picture of delectable distress. Could they be more cliched? I knelt and picked up the fallen giant¡¯s club. It was unbalanced and awkward in my hand. That was, of course, because I lifted it up one-handed, a display of Strength and surety. ¡°You heard that¡­ you are payment for this pathetic excuse of humanity¡¯s life. But, there are no slaves in Al-Lazar¡­ so the offer is moot and void,¡± I explained slowly, tapping the floor and cracking the tiles with my new oversized weapon. Still, energy flowed into me from the pair, a heady elixir that tasted most sweet. Thank you, Greater Drain. I stepped closer to Randal. ¡°Hey, man. We got a deal. C''mon, our situation¡¯s pretty much the same¡­ We should stick together, we¡¯re both from¡­¡± My hand swung sharply for I could help myself no longer. An Improved Power Strike-infused blow made his head nothing more than an impressionist¡¯s explosion of pinks and reds. ¡°We are nothing alike¡­ you are far too low-level,¡± I whispered softly with a wan smile. There was a heavy silence at my display of casual and sudden violence.
You have slain Randal Jeffries [Minor] Champion of Kaes-Loka. You have 1000 experience gained. 3 unassigned attribute points. 1 unassigned skill point.
I immediately felt a burst of power surge the deep places of my being. Something felt right as if a heavy stone had been lifted, a freeing sensation that was most welcome. Euphoria sang its triumphant song. None could stop me. I shivered in pleasure even as I put all the attribute points into Dexterity and the skill point into Greater Drain. With the Champion¡¯s death, my green and gold-flecked bar had also filled completely. It was flashing now, demanding that I walk once more upon its path. With Randal¡¯s sacrifice, I was feeling generous. Largesse was expected from great men. ¡°Ladies you may go¡­ you have fulfilled honor¡¯s obligation. You owe this corpse that offered to betray you nothing. Your god has forsaken him for his blasphemy,¡± I laughed almost hysterically, my voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere. The gathered group were all still mesmerized, but here and there a few of the men eyed me with resigned looks. The looks of men who knew their death had come but had accepted their fates. The two women, on the other hand, were survivors. They simply nodded to one before pushing to the back. Soon after, I heard them fleeing back down the corridor. Good, I thought to myself, it would be best for today¡¯s event to spread. Let the Council and the Bulls of Heaven be at greater odds with one another. It suited my purpose. ¡°However, the rest of you. I hope that you fight well¡­ well at least well enough to be entertaining,¡± I cackled as I threw myself at them with wild abandon. Already I had begun to utter the mantra that would allow me to walk on the path of carnage. ***** I mowed through the compound, a measured flash of rage and steel, momentarily lost on my path. When my heightened state finally subsided, I began to kill in a more measure, cold, and clinical fashion. Experimentation was on my mind, and before me I had a score of willing volunteers who threw themselves like lemmings at me. Unleashing techniques learned in the Dust dream, I found them equally effective in the waking world. Thanks to Fen, I had gained the ability to judge space, discern good timing, and master general positioning. More importantly, I had been taught how to blend all these elements together, creating a seamless dance of death, my weapon an extension of my will. Numbers flashed, meaningless notifications of the ending of their inconsequential lives. Their fates were nothing more than to be ended by the flash of sharp steel, the hunger of my magic, or the simple bludgeon of my heavy fist.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. The people I faced were, in simple terms, trash compared to me. I made short work of those wearing iron or steel armor, cooking them in an incandescent display of hot metal. For those in ensorcelled bronze, I had to resort to more traditional methods. My Greater Drain spell weakened them as I fought them in melee. I kept some of them injured but alive, using their bodies as living batteries for my fighting efforts. Unfortunately, despite my care, some of them died much earlier than I wanted. I went through several weapons, casting them aside as they became dulled and broken. Had I drawn the magic weapon at my back I felt it would have been bad sport. To spice things up, I occasionally picked up a fallen weapon and threw it at my enemies while using Inferno Bolt. Their screams, as hot scalding metal splashed over them, were notes of music in the general cacophony of slaughter. At times I even closed my eyes, letting instincts take over. Learning to feel with my other senses the ebb and flow of my enemies'' movements. It was by no means perfect, but served as good practice nonetheless. Fear prodded them to act in desperation, yet at the same time dulled their blows. A man who knows he will die, who has given up, is the easiest opponent to defeat. Still, occasionally, I would suffer damage, my armor unable to fully absorb the impact of a desperate blow or a lucky strike finding its way through a weak spot. Unfortunately for those who stood against me, it was a trivial matter to restore what little damage they did, thanks to my Lesser Regeneration and Greater Drain spell. At some point, a cry had come up from the guards of the compound calling me a ¡®Sleeper¡¯ or some other such nonsense. I was very much awake, thank you very much. But what truly enraged me was when they beseeched their gods, especially the goddess Avaria. Did they not see that I was their judgment come? It spurred me to greater heights of frenzy as I continued my harvest for more and more experience points. For kicks and giggles, I even used Freezing Aura, enjoying how it slowed my enemies and made them easier prey. Despite its name, Freezing Aura made me feel a heat in my core that spread to all my extremities when activated and enervated me. A particularly educational encounter was when I burst into a room. A boy stood with a cooking knife in the corner, warding me away from his sister who lay trembling behind him. I sighed and turned away, only for the boy to stab me through my lower leg. My Greater Drain spell reduced him to a shriveled husk of dried meat. No mercy, I reminded myself. It was all rather jolly good fun. But like all good things, my time in the compounds of the Bulls of Heaven came to an end. A quiet crept up on me, replacing the earlier screams and sounds of fighting. Peace. In short, all who were left had broken and fled. As an added bonus, the City Guards had not come. I estimated that about thirty or forty minutes had passed as I let my Entropic energy wash over me. The dried blood and offal that had gotten on me turned into fine dust and fell away like false tears. Shedding the viscera of battle like an old skin, I walked clean through an abattoir of my own making. The stench of copper was cloying as the last few notifications of some nobodies deaths filtered into my view. Dismissing them, I took the time to glance at my overall status and was annoyed at the lack of gains despite the festival of carnage. After all of that song and dance, there were no improvements to my attributes and only one point improvement to one of my skills, Blind-Fighting. Still, I had gained just over fifteen hundred points in experience so it was not a bad haul at the end of the day. I finished making my way through the aftermath, passing by the seneschal Vivek¡¯s corpse. Red-faced with indignation, he had been surprisingly brave, coming at me with a short club. Unfortunately, he had been less than skilled as the hole in his prodigious stomach attested to. Coming back to the chamber where I had started the killing, I breathed a long sigh. Perhaps there would be some loot that I could quickly pillage before making my exit. Also, Deschanel had looked especially interested in a sconce on the wall. Most likely it would lead to a safe room or an exit from the compound. I pulled at the sconce, stepping over Deschanel¡¯s corpse. A slow rumble followed, as a section of the wall rose, revealing a flight of stairs leading downward. Sighing at the predictability of it all, I rifled through the fine desk, my fingers closing around a golden letter opener, its dull blade erupting from a chameleon¡¯s mouth. In a drawer, I found a wad of Lazarian gold notes, which I pocketed with a small thrill. A small fortune by any standard. To add to my spoils, I relieved the corpses in the room of their jewelry, stuffing the most valuable pieces into my bag. Rings, necklaces, and bracelets¡ªeach glinting with promise¡ªwere added to my growing collection. Perhaps, I could open up a shop, I thought jokingly. My business concluded, I cast a final glance around the room. There had been a time when the sight of a corpse would have filled me with shock and horror. How desensitized I had become, I thought bitterly. I had become what this damn world forced me to be. To sow more confusion, I cast Decay on the corpses. It felt, oddly enough, like desecrating a temple. The sour-sweet smell of rot filled the air as my magic took hold of their bodies, the stench lingering and following me as I descended the stairs. ***** The stairs eventually led to a narrow passage that was lit with expensive Zajasite lining its wall, providing a dull but constant glow. More than enough to see by. Now that it was over, I entered a state of thoughtful clarity, not too dissimilar to the one felt after a good rut. My system informed me that I had slain a Champion. There had been a reward, but would there be repercussions? Were all Visitors, like Randal and I, chosen by the gods of this world? I almost felt sickened using Randal in the same thought as myself. Low-level useless scum. More importantly, what would happen if I killed them all? Would I finally be able to return home and escape this awful place? The passage finally stopped at a dead end. Before me was a wall of bricks and mortar. Enraged, I kicked at the offending obstacle, surprised to see it crumble easily, revealing another space. Stepping through, I found myself in an empty building, the glow behind me illuminating a room filled with dust and the detritus of years. Disinterested in further exploration, I soon left the building and stepped out onto a quiet side street. A few passersby gave me odd looks before visibly looking away, pretending that I did not exist. Surprised, I looked down at myself and found that I was at least presentable. Perhaps, it was because I left that old building I wondered. Most likely the people around here knew well enough to avoid the business of the Bulls. Shrugging, I made my way to the main thoroughfare. I needed to inform Larynda about what had transpired and make our next move. Suddenly there was a rattle, the sound of something vibrating insistently against wood. It was the box that the Necromancer had given me, demanding to be opened. Book 4: The Black Flame Those who walk the path of Mana must often seek to refine their minds if they wish to advance. Theories abound as to why this is so, yet the most compelling comes from Master Lionels, the Qisnian renegade. He argues that the mind must expand its capacity to grasp the hidden mathematica behind Mana. The more the mind can comprehend of the deeper mysteries, the more Mana it can command in turn. - Master Bertrand of the University of Quas. Larynda was where I had left her, standing a good distance from was now the quiet chaos of the compound. She was wearing a veil that covered half of her face, and more importantly her ears. Onlookers had gathered outside the Bull¡¯s base, but none had dared step a foot inside. The half-elven girl squawked in surprise as my hand touched her shoulder. A few moments later she registered that it was me and I dragged Larynda aside to a quiet corner of the street. She looked at me, worry and eagerness in equal measure lining her expression. ¡°You alright, Gil?¡± ¡°As well as can be. Incredible in fact. The Necromancer was not lying when he told me that I would gain in power in the Dust dream,¡± I answered plainly, nodding. ¡°What did you do in there anyway? The screams could be heard from out here?¡± she asked with a note of awe. ¡°What you asked me to do. I doubt the Bulls here will be troubling anyone for a while¡­ this however quite literally points to their next little den,¡± I replied, opening the small wooden box that Vincenzio had given me. Sitting on a bed of Lazarian notes was a bone finger pointing at a direction in the distance. No matter how I moved the box, the digit continued to point at a single location like a macabre compass. Suddenly, without warning, Larynda touched the dead finger. Her glazed for a moment before she whispered, ¡°The Old Quarter.¡± ¡°Well, then let¡¯s be about it,¡± I said with an eager and evil grin. An evil grin that she returned with equal fierceness. What had happened in my time in the Dust Dream that the girl felt such enmity now against the Bulls? ***** The Old Quarter of Al-Lazar held the city''s hoarded wealth, treasures traded and gathered from every corner of the known world. Here, a great number of warehouses, some as grand as small palaces, stood alongside busy trading houses. The diverse foreign origins of the goods were mirrored in the distinct cuts of stone and the varied architectural designs of the buildings. Unlike the winding streets of the rest of Al-Lazar, the Old Quarter was laid out in a strict grid, with straight streets and neatly divided rectangular blocks. Finding it odd, I asked Larynda why it was so. I expected her to shrug off the question, but she was able to give me a simple answer. The Old Quarter had burned down long ago in a great fire. The Council had redesigned it for greater efficiency. Her explanation had given me a seed of another dastardly idea. We stood across from a massive warehouse, the insignia of the Bulls of Heaven displayed proudly across its entrance. There was a commotion and a flurry of activity as people panicked about the building. ¡°Burn it down,¡± I ordered Larynda coldly. She looked at me for a moment. ¡°Just like that? But what about innocent folks in there? Shouldn¡¯t we give them a warning or something?¡± She tried to display a calm and collected front, but her face pinched in the semblance of a frown. ¡°Perhaps you are incapable?¡± I goaded. ¡°No, not it¡¯s not that¡­¡± she half-stammered weakly. Glaring at her sternly, I cut in. ¡°I did not take you for an idiot. Please do not try to prove me wrong. We can not stop now. The people in there are complicit in the crimes of the Bulls. There are no innocents here. They are very, very bad people. If we do not finish this what do you think will happen to innocents like Naira and the others back in the Begonia¡¯s Shade? We are doing this for the greater good. Consider this¡­ karma¡­ their divine punishment. We are only balancing the scales. Also, what do you think Kidu would do in this situation?¡± I spelled it out as clearly as I could. My arguments were sound. ¡°He would strike without warning. A Hunter does not warn its prey,¡± she replied reluctantly. I decided to hammer in a different point. ¡°And Cordelia?¡± ¡°The maker of the tool is just as guilty of the crime if he knows its intended purpose,¡± she answered, sounding somehow both tense and exasperated. I said nothing, allowing her to reach her own conclusions. She took a deep breath. ¡°You¡¯d be going in there with or without me anyway,¡± she admitted, surrendering. ¡°I can¡¯t leave everything just to you. The gods¡­ no¡­ we have to help ourselves,¡± she added firmly, displaying a bit of backbone. It was respectable.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Looking her in the eye, I nodded. ¡°This will take a little time¡­ quite a bit of time really¡­ I can¡¯t use my staff because it would look too obvious. And, the warehouse is probably warded,¡± she explained, her eyes tightening with determination. ¡°Let¡¯s do it then. Do what you must. Do not forget, I am here and I will bear this burden with you.¡± The young woman offered a wan smile before her expression hardened into a mask of pure concentration. Her eyes shut, lips moving silently, shaping words that could not be heard by ears alone. These were words both ancient and new, woven together in a chant meant only for those attuned to the song of Mana. Three are my wants¡­ Four are the pillars¡­ Five are the changing winds¡­ Six are the giving breaths¡­ On and on went the silent litany. I could grasp only a fraction of its meaning, and even then, the deeper essence of the chant eluded me entirely. Nara Sakullu, the bitter black flame of Chaos. The stuff of raw chaos shot out from her with a fury that defied reason, leaping in an invisible arc through the dim air. It struck the roof of the warehouse with a malevolent hiss, erupting into a maelstrom of black, unholy flames. These flames, dark as the abyss and writhing like serpents, met an unseen barrier just inches above the structure. For a minute or two, it seemed the warehouse might hold against the assault, as the flames were repelled by this invisible shield. But then, cracks began to spiderweb across the barrier, each one spreading like a slow poison. Like ice with the spring¡¯s thaw, the ward cracked and shattered, letting in the chaotic flame. The building had indeed been protected against arcane assault. The fire leaked through the gaps, consuming stone and wood with an unrelenting hunger. It leaked downwards, spreading swiftly around to encompass the building in a rough circle. It burned with great delight. "It is done?" I asked the girl. Even at this distance, I could feel the magical heat of the flames. She nodded, her voice hesitant as she explained, "The flames heal as they burn... but not quite enough. It is a horrible way to go..." "To die by the black flame was their fate when they chose their dark path," I said solemnly. "Their future was written by their own hands, in the many chapters of their evil deeds. Do not second-guess or overthink your actions. Think only of those you have saved from further suffering." I needed her focused, not wallowing in guilt. The girl had become a living magical artillery piece. In short, she had finally become useful. Well, if I was honest, more useful. Out of curiosity, I cast an Identify on her.
Larynda - Chaos Water Mage [Human/Elf lvl.19]
Health: 185/185 Stamina: 26/31 Mana: 15/26 Chaotic Water Lance (lvl.1) 8 Chaotic Water Shield (lvl.2) 5
I was pleased to note that even though I used the ¡®cheaper¡¯ Identify instead of Sage¡¯s Sight, I could still see two of her available spells. Also, thanks to her wholesale slaughter of the people in the building, Larynda had gone up a level. She gulped, swallowing the scope of her deed. Larynda¡¯s emerald eyes hardened as she looked into the middle distance, nodding slowly in guilty understanding. Already the screams of burning men and women could be heard. A disturbingly appetizing smell wafted up through the late afternoon air, mixing in with the general smells of the city. A cry was taken up, warning of a fire, rousing the citizenry to action. A wall of dancing flame blocked escape from the building, yet some members of the Bulls braved the unnatural fire. The black chaos ate at their flesh, and they screamed in agony as raw pain stopped them from taking further steps to freedom. Their bodies twisted into new forms and shapes, melting like wax as they burned. A few of the more delicate members of the frightened crowd began to vomit at the sight. Humanity at its finest. The people of Al-Lazar cared little for the foreigners, but they did care for potential damage to the neighboring buildings. Mages with the gift of Water began to blast great torrents over the building, but even their magic failed to quench the thirsty flames. I saw an elderly dwarven mage tug at his long beard, panicked at their lack of progress, screaming at his fellow mages to greater effort. It seemed that Larynda had grown too skilled in the ways of Water for such minor magic to work against her spells. The wooden box began to rattle signalling that we were done here. ¡°Let¡¯s go Gil¡­ I¡­ I¡¯ve seen enough,¡± Larynda said weakly. ¡°Let¡¯s just go.¡± I ruffled her hair as I had done so when she was a child, hoping that it would give her some form of comfort. She shied away at first but tolerated my sign of affection. Regretting that I couldn''t harvest more experience, I took one last look at the burning building. My eyes were probably deceiving me, but I fancied I saw Beastkin with long serpentine tails cavorting in the flaming bowels of the warehouse. It couldn''t be, yet I imagined hearing a chittering sound teasing at my consciousness. Somehow, I earned another point of experience. It almost felt like an insult. However, deciding not to dwell on it, I shrugged and quickly opened the wooden box. I would have killed for a map and quest markers. Shaking my head, I led Larynda out of the area toward our next target. The screams of the dying followed us, hounding us and forcing us to quicken our pace as we walked away out of earshot. Surprisingly, the girl seemed calmer, her resolve firming as we left the area. ¡°Where are we going next? The next one is on me,¡± I inquired casually, hoping to lighten the mood as I opened the box again. Without hesitation, Larynda touched the bony digit, her pointy ears twitching¡ªthe only sign of any discomfort. She fidgeted uncomfortably, her face blushing a dull pink. ¡°I knew¡­ I knew it¡­ we go to the Flower Quarter. The spirits speak of a place known as the Snake¡¯s Songbird. But Gil, there is one thing you have to promise me, okay? I used that word right, right?¡± ¡°Yes, you used the word okay correctly. Not that it''s the important thing right now,¡± I replied a tad sarcastically. She almost withered there and then. I almost slapped myself on the forehead. Remember, be kind, I reminded myself. ¡°I mean, you used it correctly, but we really must focus on something else right now. The greater good, remember?¡± I corrected myself, striving to sound warm and understanding. Already annoyed at missing an opportunity for more experience, I found my patience wearing thin. What was the damn girl being coy about now? Why couldn¡¯t the people of this world be more direct in their language? Book 4: Reflections of the Floating World. We gather for pleasure and blossoms adorn our hair in celebration. Ah, but fortune has not returned and I sit anxious, exposed. Alone I sit, nurturing an old and stagnant routine born of the long, empty days that accumulate, bare and desolate. Oh, how they distort my sense of time in this most unyielding of years. Ah, misfortune, you most miserable of serpents who lie in wait under perfumed leaves. Why must you always wait for time and age¡¯s heavy-handed blows to fall before sinking deep your fangs? - Verses from the Flower Quarter by Unknown. The Flower Quarter was a place where elegant hedonism intertwined seamlessly with jaded opulence and unvarnished seediness. We crossed a creaky wooden bridge over a moat filled with crystal-clear water that sparkled in the light of the dying sun. Dark purple flowers the size of dinner plates floated on the water¡¯s surface, their heady fragrance an aromatic demarcation of the realm we were about to enter. Here, nobles and wealthy merchants clad in fine silks mingled with ladies of a priced virtue, each playing their roles with only the thinnest veneer of decorum. Politeness and class masked an undercurrent of efficiency, a need to see to transient needs. It suited both that the business in question was seen to as soon as possible. There was forced joy and desire painted in broad uneven strokes across the expression of the women here. Yet, for those who looked closely, the facade cracked. The slight tightness in the eyes of the women plying their trade on the streets, the sag of their shoulders, and the listlessness of their stances betrayed the harsh reality lurking beneath the surface. Courtesans a liar would call them, but I knew them for what they were, whores in all but name. I saw a bawdy drunk emerge from one of the bordellos. He started singing tawdry songs with a ceramic pitcher in hand, crooning lovesongs to all that would listen. Despite being almost legless, he did not have a bad singing voice. He was soon politely escorted to the bridge by some gaggle of painted women, smiling all the while. By the brisk trade that was going on here, the people in the Flower Quarter clearly enjoyed a heavy demand for their services. As we thrust deeper into the perfumed district I could sense, a different, more cloying note of something else in the air. Dust incense. It seemed that the merchants of the flesh here dealt with both pleasures real and imagined. The worry on Larynda¡¯s face grew, seemingly as the level of dress grew ever more scandalous. It could be a misjudgment on my part, but I felt that a few words were needed now, for encouragement if nothing else. ¡°You are holding out well. Have you been here many times before?¡± I asked, scanning the street ahead. She glanced in my direction for a moment. ¡°A few times. Had to deliver medicine sometimes for a few of the girls down here. Sometimes a few of the foreigners play rougher than they should,¡± she answered flatly. I sensed there was another story there if I dug a bit. Shame I did not care one whit. Putting on my best smile and wanting to stay on mission, I asked, ¡°Are we getting close?¡± ¡°Yes. Over there, see that building? The one with all the over there by the pond with the fancy front and roof?¡± the half-elven girl pointed out, nodding in its direction. ¡°That¡¯s it. That¡¯s the Snake¡¯s Songbird.¡± From where I stood, the building in question was quite the captivating sight. Its roof, with gracefully upturned edges, seemed to float above the structure, supported by ornate pillars that were edged in gold and gleamed in the light. The tiles of the roof, shiny and shimmering, reflected the sunlight like a dark polished mirror. Surrounding the building was a lush, manicured garden. A low fence surrounded this island of green and a serene pond mirrored the Snake¡¯s Songbird¡¯s elegance. Large, exotic flowers floated on the water¡¯s surface, their bright, vibrant colors contrasting with the dark, smooth stones that edged the pond. Statues and sculptures, crafted with meticulous detail, stood as silent guardians, casting their shadows on the still water. The front of the building was adorned with intricate carvings of slithering serpents and songbirds, chasing one another between the emerald canopy of a forgotten forest. The fine details of the highly stylized animals in particular drew the eye, even from this distance. Tall, arched doorways framed the entrance, their curves softening the imposing facade and inviting visitors to explore further. Decorative patterns wound their way across the doors and windows, adding a layer of complexity and beauty to the Snake¡¯s Songbird¡¯s appearance. Impressive for a whorehouse, I thought to myself crudely. ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯ll be going in then. Unless you want to join me, of course?¡± I offered frankly. Having the girl join me would be a double-edged sword. Yes, I could benefit from her own impressive magic. Also, having observed her interactions with others in the past, I posited that Larynda must enjoy a particularly high Charisma attribute. This might help me in keeping my promise to her. However, at the same time, it would mean that I would not be able to use Frenzied Strikes. Nor would I be able to sate some of my more¡­ well, base desires. ¡°You remember our promise, right?¡± she reminded, nagging like an old fish wife.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The spirits had informed the girl that the Bulls had been using the Snake¡¯s Songbird as a front for their operations. I breathed deeply. ¡°Yes, yes, I will try to warn the girls away. Do you think that I am some sort of monster who would attack defenseless women? However, I will not be responsible for their lives should they choose to ignore this warning.¡± Larynda forced out a bright smile. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll be coming with you then to make sure they all understand, right?¡± ¡°Promise me one thing, though, in return. We must see this through, yes? No half measures,¡± I demanded. Her eyes hardened as she nodded in agreement. ¡°No half measures.¡± We walked up to the entrance of the building and the lingering scent of perfumed jasmine greeted us. Seconds later we were met by a tiny woman who bade us enter with a demure yet knowing smile. From her stature, I guessed that she was one of these so-called Giants if I was not mistaken. She was small, very small, and I could have mistaken her for a child were it not for the seriousness of her expression. The woman barely reached my hip, her medium-length hair spilling down in soft curls. The Giant wore a peach and red dress, its design reminiscent in style and cut of a Chinese Hanfu. The dress was a masterpiece. It was adorned with delicate floral patterns that seemed almost alive and tiny blossoms in shades of gold and white were embroidered across the fabric, their petals appearing to flutter in an unseen breeze. The sleeves billowed elegantly, their edges trimmed with fine lace, and the body was fitted with a subtle but elaborate pattern of vines and leaves. Every detail of the dress spoke of a master tailor¡¯s touch. The long dress flowed gracefully down to the floor and gave her the appearance of a child princess. The finely clad woman ushered us into a parlor, where we sat on plush, cushioned chairs. Serving girls entered, their garments simpler but no less finely cut, bringing plates laden with small delicacies. Wine was poured into tall fluted goblets, and I was almost tempted to take a sip. ¡°Can I get you any more refreshments in particular? This is the first time you have visited the Snake¡¯s Songbird, yes?¡± she asked us in a friendly and polite tone, bowing slightly at the hip. The serving girls mirrored her bow before they left the room. ¡°And, you don¡¯t need to worry about that,¡± the diminutive woman added, gesturing to our face coverings. ¡°We value our guest¡¯s privacy very highly.¡± Remembering an encounter with a Giant from a time not so long ago, at least for me, I could not help but ask in sign. You speak? I questioned with my hands. At first, she stiffened momentarily at such a direct question. A half-second later her smile widened a fraction and she answered me. ¡°All of us can speak, good sir. It was just that many of the older generation never spoke to any of the lesser races. However, we live in more enlightened times these days,¡± the tiny woman boasted, a small hand running through the dark ringlets of her hair. ¡°I see,¡± I replied, not particularly impressed. A strange twinge of curiosity consumed me, forcing me to cast an Identify on her.
Niminia Sterios - Courtesan [Gnome lvl.10]
Health: 100/100 Stamina: 29/30 Mana: 15/15
A laugh almost took me then and there at the irony of it all. Who would have thought? Gnomes that thought themselves Giants! Also, who would lie with a Gnome? The logistics of such an operation eluded me until I thought about the more unsavory elements of this world. Niminia¡¯s eyes glanced for a moment in Larynda¡¯s direction. ¡°I see you have brought company with you¡­¡± she voiced, leaving the unspoken question hanging in the air. ¡°I was told that this place caters to all desires of the flesh,¡± I bluffed. ¡°Do you not have clients of both sexes here?¡± ¡°Well, yes, of course. We do see to all manners of tastes and preferences,¡± she replied smoothly. ¡°Ahh, I will call some of the girls down. We do not have many of the City Guard come here. You must be an officer of some rank! The girls will love that. Still, you will need to leave your weapons here on the ground floor¡­ those are the rules of the establishment,¡± she explained with a professional smile. I looked around searching for potential guards, or hired muscle, but saw none. The establishment must rely almost exclusively on the name of the Bulls of Heaven for protection. Either that or this was a trap. Again, it did not matter to me either way. ¡°Thank you,¡± Larynda answered for me, smiling at the Gnome. ¡°I will have some Lanelo juice if you have any. I do not drink so early in the evening.¡± ¡°But of course,¡± she responded, her tone courteous. ¡°Much obliged, Mistress Sterios,¡± I decided to tack on, enjoying the minor look of surprise on the Gnome''s face. Unperturbed, she clapped her hands, and a flock of girls in alluring attire, similar to Niminia¡¯s dress but more scandalously cut, entered the parlor. The variety on display set a rush of fire to my loins and I was tempted to enjoy the amenities for perhaps an hour or two more. A truly wonderful display of feminine beauty in full bloom. Surely, I could wait until Larynda got her Lanelo juice? Niminia Sterios started to introduce the ladies one by one, but my mind could barely register their names as my eyes could not find a safe place to alight. All of them smiled at me, but my eyes continued to wander here and there. The male gaze is a fickle thing. Eventually, it was a slim blonde woman¡¯s turn. A touch too thin for my tastes, but she had a certain elegance to her. On some of the exposed skin of her shapely limbs elegant whorls and designs were on display, like fine henna art. But it was her eyes, and the flecks of gold that floated in the ink of them that truly arrested me. I had to stop myself from blurting out her name like an idiot and merely nodded in appreciation as Niminia started to introduce the next girl. My thoughts rushed about in a confused whirl. Elenora was here? Here of all places? I was almost tempted to use Identify to confirm the fact, but I pushed down that mindless urge. It would be an almost heinous waste of Mana when the fact of the matter was written plain before me. More to the point, where was Theo? Had she been among the initial first batch of serving girls? I looked at Larynda, nodding at her before standing up. The Mage mirrored me half a moment later. ¡°Mistress Niminia Sterios,¡± I started with great seriousness, pronouncing each of the syllables of her name slowly. ¡°You are the proprietress of this establishment?¡± The tiny woman looked up at me and nodded slowly, her eyes widening with repressed worry. ¡°I have come with orders from the Council. You and your staff are to vacate these premises. Immediately. There will be no further warning given. The Bulls of Heaven are now the enemies of Al-Lazar,¡± I falsely claimed with as much gravitas as I could summon.