Mark of the Founder
Date: 2020-06-27 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Magic; Role Playing Games; Fiction
Description: The Founders were the first Marked, and they used those powers to build kingdoms, subjugate the land, and enrich themselves. And they will not suffer another to join their ranks. Lost in a world with Levels, stats, and monsters, Hal fights to survive in an unforgiving land and escape execution from its rulers. Ingenuity and courage won’t be enough. With Marked powers he doesn’t understand, he’s easy prey for all the goblins, bandits, aberrations, and foul monsters that plague the realm. He’ll need to abandon his humanity by embracing the beast within. To fight monsters, one has to risk becomin

Beastborne: Mark of the Founder

Beastborne Chronicles, Book 1

James T. Callum

Copyright © 2020 by James T. Callum

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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Contents

Foreword

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Chapter 91

Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Chapter 94

Chapter 95

Chapter 96

Chapter 97

Chapter 98

Chapter 99

Chapter 100

Chapter 101

Chapter 102

Chapter 103

Chapter 104

Chapter 105

Chapter 106

Chapter 107

Chapter 108

Chapter 109

Afterword

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Newsletter

Hal’s Final Stats

Dramatis Personae

Bestiary

Skill List

Spells & Abilities

Dedication

For my wife, who has never wavered, never doubted, never given up on me, even when I have. You are the shining star in the dark of night that I set my course by.

Next, to my awesome patrons who have been with me from the beginning. Your support has quite literally changed my life. Thank you! And, of course, to you the reader. This story is for you. I hope you enjoy it.

Foreword

Beastborne was originally written as a web serial. For those uninitiated into the wonderful world of web serials, they are often written long-form but with numerous chapters. It is not uncommon to see many serials reach hundreds of chapters per volume.

As a result, you may find some of the chapters are a bit different from what you might be used to.

Additionally, if you find any typos or errors feel free to drop me an email citing what chapter they’re in at: typos@jamestcallum.com. I update the manuscript whenever an error is found, so make sure you allow your reading device to update your ebooks! That way you will always have the best version.

Prologue

Midarian stepped through the door and kicked it shut behind him.

He was prepared for the shift before it happened. Aldim had stats. Actually, every Worldshard had stats but most of them were hidden and far from the consciousness of the denizens.

Aldim and its ilk were different. Though his home had been Earth, the nature of places like Aldim and Telsara were not unknown to Midarian.

A series of mental commands brushed away the distracting prompts and windows. He knew what he was about and needed no list of his spells.

His time on Aldim would be short and any stat-geeking he indulged in would be wasteful. Besides, he already knew he was more than a match for the useless god.

Erastus stood with his back to Midarian atop a wide argent dais, the telltale signs of a portal spell taking shape in the air in front of him. He was pulling some poor soul from the world between sleep and waking.

What a lot of people didn’t realize was that those myoclonic jerks that feel like you’re falling right when you’re about to fall asleep are usually attempts at planar travel.

They’re mostly misfires. Latent magic.

But in the right circumstances and with enough juice, you could effectively shunt a person subconsciously attempting to Dive through a portal and to the destination of your choosing.

Of course, that’s a pretty shirty thing to do. Huh, language filter on the Worldshard too? I definitely did not mean shirty.

Most people only subconsciously did that when they were trying to run away from a situation so bad they would rather be anywhere else. Abuse victims, runaways, the most vulnerable people in other words.

It didn’t surprise Midarian that Erastus would prey on that sort. The poor guy the god had homed in on would go to sleep in his bed and wake up somewhere else entirely.

Not that he needed it but Midarian welcomed another reason to murder the god.

Killing a god had been on his bucket list for a long time. God-killer just had such a nice ring to it. So many of the worlds Midarian visited had silent gods or gods that had gone to the corner store for a pack of smokes and never came back.

The realms that did have active gods were mostly ashholes. Which meant that they were heavily guarded. There was a level of self-awareness among gods. Not enough to change their ways – who would stop them anyway? – but enough to guard themselves against the likes of Midarian.

So when he finally, finally, managed to get through Erastus’s layered web of protections, he was ecstatic.

Midarian arrived several seconds before the god had made his fatal mistake. A simple enough trick to perform from the Margins and it satisfied his most important tenet that had kept the rogue Magi alive all these long years: never arrive when and where you are expected.

Seeing the spell taking shape, Midarian understood the source of the flaw.

Portals were leaky, messy things. They always made cracks and fissures in reality. It was in their nature.

Any good spellweaver would be able to cover the flaw immediately. And indeed the foolish god had done just that. Too little, too late. Unlike a mortal spellweaver, a god had more juice to swing. He had pulled back the veil of time over the flaw in a bid to entrap Midarian as soon as he exploited the flaw.

Unfortunately for Erastus, Midarian had moved the moment of the flaw precious seconds prior to its appearance. And he was there in the god’s chamber before he was ready for Midarian.

The poor soul Erastus had targeted appeared in the black abyss of the portal and fell with a meaty thump onto the marble flooring. Dazed but surprisingly quick to recover, the man pushed to his feet. His brown eyes were wide with confusion.

Erastus spread his arms out like some tent revivalist preacher. His long billowing sleeves swung down and kissed the floor. Midarian imagined the god thought he looked impressive. But he just looked like a silk-winged bat.

Midarian drew two daggers and approached his quarry. Daydream in his left hand, gold as the first sunset of summer, and Nightmare in his right, black as the deepest moonless night in the dead of winter.

The time of the god’s trap drew near.

Any second now Erastus would be expecting Midarian to come through the Margins and walk straight into his waiting trap. Midarian didn’t need to see his face to know the savage grin that would mar the deity’s eternally youthful boyish features.

Midarian stayed his hand long enough to time his strike at the exact moment the god’s trap would have caught him, had he not arrived seconds earlier. At the moment of the god’s appointed victory, Midarian drove Daydream into his spine.

Before Erastus knew he had erred deeper than he could ever fear, Nightmare dove down like the beak of a hungry raven into the vulnerable space between neck and shoulder.

A gout of golden ichor sprayed from the wounds.

Midarian sawed Daydream through the spine and ripped Nightmare down. Either wound would have proven fatal on their own. But Midarian had a score to settle and the wily old cretin had slipped past his fingers far too many times for him to do anything halfway.

Flickers of cannon fire erupted from the wounds as Midarian pulled his daggers out, the last of the god’s defenses faded in those bursts of light and thick gold blood.

Midarian planted a boot into his white-robed back and pushed the god forward. He didn’t want to see his disturbingly innocent face.

The golden ichor that flowed from the wounds slowed, puddling about the god. It didn’t stain his robes, merely flowed over them like mercury leaving no trace on the fabric.

As the last dregs of stubborn life fled the god, the ichor began to change.

Midarian, ever the opportunist, scooped up some of it into a vial while it was still gold. He slipped the daggers back into their sheaths that had appeared at the small of his back and pulled his red stardusted hood over his head.

Eventually, the gold gave way to mythril-green, then shimmering silver before it hardened and began to solidify into a dark iron in both form and color. As magic fled the ichor, the hardened blood rippled from iron to burnished copper, completing its transmutation.

Midarian was halfway through the incantation for another door, ready to Dive back into the Margins, when he realized the young man was staring open-mouthed at him. He had just witnessed Midarian kill a god, though he doubted the man understood the significance.

More importantly, Erastus’s portal was still open.

He turned, studying the magic – not terribly complex by his standards, but then Erastus earned his station like all the elite and influential did; by the circumstance of his birth – and decided that he would not consign the young man to whatever plans Erastus had for him.

Erastus had already pulled him from his particular brand of Earth. Midarian couldn’t send him back, and quite honestly wouldn’t have wanted to. Aldim offered adventure and true growth that anybody would kill for.

Many had.

Midarian stepped to the side of Erastus’s dais, not willing to share the same platform as the dead creature. He summoned a gilded throne, appropriately gaudy and bedazzled not with precious gems uncountable but with cheap plastic costume jewelry.

Much better.

He took a seat, acclimatizing himself to the ebb and flow of the weave upon Aldim. Once attuned, he shifted the portal to another location. Wherever Erastus had meant to send the boy looked positively villainous.

Midarian didn’t know the world of Aldim well but he figured depositing the guy in a stretch of woods at the foot of the mountains was a better destination than a barracks full of soldiers wielding cruel-looking black blades.

Crossing one leg over the other, Midarian watched the man with a curious twinkle to his glowing eyes.

The man didn’t scream or run. That was a good sign. But he also wasn’t being sucked up into the portal as Midarian had expected.

Something was missing.

His attention span waning, Midarian looked back over the weave of the magic Erastus had set into motion.

Aha, you gods and your marks.

He snorted and rose from his throne. “C’mere,” he called to the young man.

* * *

The last thing Hal recalled was passing out at 3 AM on his couch. He had just spent the last several hours catching late-night surge fares and then cleaning all the vomit from the back of his car.

He had expected to wake up a few hours later, stumble blindly to the bathroom, then do the adult thing and go sleep on his bed full of unfolded clothes he had been putting off for the last three days.

Instead, he jerked awake in the middle of the night and fell into darkness. The terrible nightmare hadn’t ended there, falling dreams weren’t that uncommon considering his near-phobia of heights.

Hal pushed himself up from the hard, cold floor and lifted his gaze to the strange cherubic, blonde-haired boy’s face that sat so strangely on the robed body of a man.

The robed man had his arms spread wide with a disturbingly rapturous expression. His long sleeves dragged across the marble floor, partially obscuring another figure behind the man from Hal’s point of view.

Somebody was sneaking up behind him, though sneak wasn’t quite the right word. The jean-jacketed man sauntered toward the baby-faced man’s back, two daggers of opposing qualities pulled free and held out to the side in mockery of the robed man.

His intent was crystal clear.

Maybe Hal should have called out a warning but something kept his mouth shut. This was something bigger than himself at play here. So he stood witness as a casual bystander and tried to wake himself up from this hellish dream.

The Assassin struck and took down Babyface with casual grace. Streams of golden fluid erupted from the wounds and flashes of light chased the blood as it splattered across the room. Miraculously, it soiled neither the Assassin’s clothes nor Babyface's.

Hal watched the blood change color and harden into something that resembled cooled lava. It was then that he realized without a doubt that he was not dreaming.

He would have suspected a bad acid trip if he had ever tried the stuff.

Hal’s brown eyes locked with the strange glowing orbs from deep within the dark confines of the Assassin’s red hood.

He looked like no assassin Hal had ever seen or dreamed up in all his life. No black leather with dozens of hidden pockets. He wore a garish red hoodie beneath a jean jacket.

Who still wore jean jackets? The Assassin looked like he wanted to be an extra on Stranger Things.

The Assassin casually rolled a free hand and summoned a golden throne out of the air. He looked at the body, then something in the air to Hal’s left. Hal followed his gaze but saw nothing except empty space.

The chamber was a dimly lit cavernous expanse, candelabras placed every ten or twenty feet cast flickering reflections on the gaudy marble flooring. The roof was held up by a series of fluted columns that vanished into the gloom overhead.

It was like somebody heard a story about the Greek gods of antiquity and attempted to model this place after them. Except the creator lacked even the most basic comprehension of ancient Greek architecture or aesthetics.

The whole thing was a caricature of ancient Greek style.

“C’mere,” called the Assassin as he rose and wandered over to the body.

Hal found his legs answering the smooth voice without conscious thought. He stood beside the body within spitting distance of the Assassin who had turned all his attention from Hal to the body.

The Assassin crouched and braceleted the corpse’s wrist with his own hand. The hand flopped about as he raised the arm and jiggled it. “I think there’s still some juice left in this thing. Give me your right – no – your left arm.”

Hal resisted the urge to obey, unsure why he had come any closer to the killer. “I’m good, thanks,” Hal managed to say.

“Listen kid, I appreciate the brass ball routine as much as the next guy. But I’m kind of in a rush here. There’s a magical otter that will be very cross with me if I miss our date for tea. So give me your hand or so help me….”

The lingering threat hung in the air a moment before Hal thrust out his left arm. He didn’t see any other recourse. He wasn’t a trained fighter and there didn’t seem to be any doors, so running was out.

The Assassin slapped the corpse’s still-warm hand upon Hal’s forearm. He nearly had a heart attack when the dead fingers locked tight upon his arm. Whatever trace of fear he had was washed away with the searing white-hot pain that bloomed on his forearm.

“Yeah,” the Assassin said distractedly. “You might feel a pinch.”

A scream broke free from Hal and echoed into the wide space around them.

The Assassin looked at him and chuckled. “Good acoustics in this place.”

Tears blurred Hal’s vision. Rich golden light spilled out between the dead god’s fingers.

When it was over, Hal was on his knees. The iron-like grip of the corpse’s hand was beginning to cut off the circulation to his fingers.

The Assassin poked the corpse’s arm with his pinky and the fingers blasted backward with a sickening series of cracks.

Hal cradled his arm and rose to his knees. The chubby corpse’s fingers were all bent backward at impossible angles.

“All done,” the Assassin said cheerily. Checking his wrist where a watch should have been, but most definitely was not, he added, “And just in time for tea!” He motioned over Hal’s shoulder, at the same place the man had been looking before.

Following his gaze again, Hal could see a swirling mass of autumn colors ten or twenty feet back. It hovered a few feet above the ground and made an ominous sound.

“Mind the drop,” was all the Assassin said before Hal felt a strange wrenching in his guts and was yanked off the floor like a hooked fish. The gaseous swirl of oranges, reds, and browns folded around him, and darkness closed in.

1

Colors swirled and collapsed upon each other. Hot and cold wind blew across Hal’s face from different directions.

Before his disoriented mind could discern up from down, the ground rose up and smacked into his face.

Luckily, the soft grass cushioned the fall.

Hal wanted to lay there for a while longer. He wanted nothing more than to shut his eyes and will himself to wake up on his couch back in his studio apartment in Seattle.

This is just a bad dream, he told himself, I’ll wake up soon.

But the reality, the truth of the situation, did not allow for such wishful thinking. It kicked down his flimsy barriers of denial in the form of a snorting, snuffling animal bumping into his hip.

Hal opened his eyes and shouted in alarm at what he saw. A two-headed wild pig of some kind with a mohawk of spiny white hairs was investigating him.

Hands pressed to the grassy ground, Hal pushed himself up to his feet. He turned to keep the beast in his line of sight and backed away slowly. The strange creature regarded Hal curiously, two pairs of eyes watching him with too much intelligence for his taste.

A howling cry echoed somewhere to his left in the distance and the pig creature squealed in fright. By the time Hal looked back in the creature’s direction, it had kicked up a dusty trail and was in full retreat.

Okay, not a dream, Hal thought coughing as the dust cloud blew over him on a gust of wind. I don’t think I’ve ever coughed or felt like I was choking a dream before.

The howl sounded again. It had a discordant, ethereal quality that raised the hairs on the back of Hal’s neck. He found himself putting one foot in front of the other in the opposite direction, glad he had collapsed on his couch fully clothed. He had been too tired to even remove his shoes.

He was in some autumnal landscape. Brown sere grass crunched underfoot. Hills covered in a riot of golds, oranges, and reds filled his vision. Copses of tall trees, oaks maybe – though he doubted he could tell most tress apart – dotted the hilly countryside.

With no immediate destination in mind, Hal continued down the hill and into the sheltered valley. He climbed the next hill and felt a wave of relief when the howls sounded again but seemed farther away.

This second hill was taller than the one he had woken up on. As he pressed through the saplings that sprouted between the thick trunks of the trees, he spotted a distant village.

Not a city, nor a town, not even a suburb.

A village. The kind you’d see on a quaint tour of Europe’s rural countryside.

Questions swirled in his addled mind. Everything still felt jumbled and his mouth felt cottony.

There’s nowhere near Seattle that looks like this that I know of. It’s far too dry. Besides, there’d be a thousand hikers snapping selfies to show their followers how “outdoorsy” they are.

The only thing that reminded him of Seattle was the dreary sky. Dark storm clouds scudded across a gray, lifeless ceiling. What little sunlight shone through was muted and watery.

Pieces of recent memories flitted back to him in sharp-edged fragments. They felt like something from a movie. Only, he knew without a doubt that it had been real. He knew, too, that this place was real.

His dreams always had that fuzzy quality to them. But this was too mundane. Too grounded. A chill wind knifed through his red flannel shirt as he ventured out from the relative quiet of the hilltop to descend to the village below.

While cold, the brisk wind revitalized him. He pulled out his cracked cellphone, unlocked it, and tried to pull up his GPS.

The screen glitched and flashed. When it came back, his Maps app was blank. Usually, if he was remotely near his apartment it would still show him the general area.

There was nothing.

Hal cycled through several more apps, trying to see if anything worked. So long as it didn’t require an internet connection, it did. Photos worked, his smiling face appeared next to strangers and friends alike.

More strangers than friends, he had to admit.

As he swiped through his pictures, he came across one that pulled him up short. It was a picture of the Assassin… in a treehouse. And he wasn’t alone.

The tall man squatted on a small plastic stool and sipped from a tiny teacup, one pinky out. Across from him, looking perfectly pleased, was the most adorable little otter, also drinking from a teacup.

Hal blinked and swiped to the next photo. There they were again. He swiped again and again. Each image was like a frame in a flipbook. As he swiped, they put down their cups. Poured more hot tea and continued sipping.

After the twentieth photo, the otter seemed to notice the camera. It hopped down from its seat and waddled toward the camera, then covered the lens with a paw.

The next images were black.

And then his normal photos resumed. Hal tried to swipe back to the dozens of photos that should not have been on his phone. But when he did… there was no trace of them.

He put the phone away and tried to forget about the photos. He wasn’t sure what was going on with him or where he was but he needed to get moving. Standing still in the wilds, no matter where he was, wouldn’t help him.

No cell reception. No food or water. The air smells weird, everything seems off about this place and there’s a village ahead. Oh, and yeah I saw some crazy Assassin murder some baby-faced guy who looked like he was cosplaying as a Greek god.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to take a deep breath. The village ahead was nestled between two of the larger hills in the distance. As he made his descent, he could keep it in sight as long as he took a slanting path to his left.

Try as he might, Hal was having trouble remembering precisely what happened in that large room. He had smacked into the hard marble floor of the place in much the same way as he arrived here.

But the rest of it was all jumbled with fear, pain, and haze.

The image of the Assassin stood out clear in his mind, though. The jean jacket, red hoodie, red sneakers, and fingerless gloves were hard to forget. But for the life of him, he could not remember the face.

There were only glowing eyes that strangely reminded him of old TV scanlines under that hood.

Hal had the strangest feeling like the Assassin wanted to help him. Though he couldn’t imagine how. It was another mystery he hoped to solve in the town below.

As the town grew closer, more of the strange meeting began to unravel. The Assassin used Babyface’s dead arm to brand him. He clearly remembered the savage pain, though his left forearm felt perfectly fine now.

Pulling his sleeve up, Hal’s breath hitched in his throat.

He had a glowing tattoo. It was astonishingly intricate. He was so consumed with the mark on his otherwise unblemished skin that he nearly ran right into a boulder as big as a horse.

When he poked the skin, it felt as normal as any other part of his body. The only difference was the glowing golden ink. It caught the pale light of the midday sun filtering through the thick cloud cover and reflected it in a gilded shimmer.

The tattoo was a series of triangles with intricately inscribed lines within each shape. It resembled a twenty-sided die, a d20. Except it was flattened and spread out.

Without the strangeness of the Assassin and Babyface, he might have been able to believe that he got drunk. And so inebriated, got a tattoo of the triforce he always secretly wanted but never dared to follow through on.

The six extra right-angle triangles surrounding the four in the center refuted that idea. Not to mention the triforce had an empty spot in the center. Not another triangle filled with curious marks.

Pushing his sleeve back down, Hal pressed on toward the village hoping to find answers there.

Hours had passed since he first checked his phone for a signal. He was fooled by the initial distance to the village. While it couldn’t have been more than a few miles away, those miles were over tremendously hilly terrain.

Where a single mile of walking might only cover a quarter of that toward his destination.

After descending the final hill, the village spread out ahead of him. A low stone wall served as its border. Not even tall enough to stop somebody from stepping over it.

People milled about in strange clothes that made Hal wonder if he had somehow stumbled upon the ren faire. Men walked about with swords belted to their hips and in similarly strange clothes.

But rather than an air of frivolity and fun, everybody looked dirty, angry, and eager to be about on their business.

So it came as a welcome surprise to Hal, checking to make sure there wasn’t at least a Wi-Fi signal, when a broad-smiling man motioned him over. The man stood between two leaning buildings – more like rough shacks – away from the main dirty road thoroughfare.

Once he got close enough that Hal didn’t need to shout, he held up his phone and pointed to it. “No signal around here, huh?”

It was a common enough ice breaker and relatively benign. So his shock was complete when the ruddy-skinned man – still smiling – reached out and grabbed his wrist. Hal was jerked off his feet with superhuman strength. The man flipped Hal over and dragged him deeper into the darkness.

Stunned and dazed, Hal fought for breath that wouldn’t come. He wheezed, feeling hands darting all around him, turning out pockets and rolling him over until he was face-down in the dirt.

Head still ringing, a flash of words appeared in his vision. A small red bar in the bottom left shrank a little then faded away.

The [Broken Thief] uses Mug.

You take 2 points of damage.

Your items are stolen!

What the-?

By the time Hal gathered his wits enough to understand he was just mugged, the man was already gone. And so was the strange text that appeared.

The whole affair couldn’t have been more than ten seconds. Not that he could check. His watch and his phone were gone. Along with whatever else he had in his pockets.

The longer he was in this strange place, the more ephemeral his thoughts felt. Like rapidly vanishing mist, he was having trouble making sense of things that should have been fairly obvious.

Groggy and still reeling from what happened, Hal got to his feet with the aid of the nearby splintery wall. People walked by, a few glanced his way but were quick to mind their own business.

Did nobody care he was just mugged?

A fire lit in his belly and bruised as he was, he rushed out from the shadows of the two buildings and onto the dirt road in pursuit of his mugger. It should have taken him seconds to realize he wouldn’t find him with all the foot traffic.

Instead, he spent several fruitless minutes searching until he understood the futility of it. Why couldn’t he think clearly?

With no money, no ID, and no means of getting home, his only hope rested with a police officer or a sheriff of some kind. If this was a ren faire, they would have one, wouldn’t they?

In the back of his mind, he knew something was wrong. With himself, with this place. There were too many crazy things that had happened to him to refute. And so, like the rest of the well-to-do Williams family, he blocked it out and shoved it into a dark corner of his mind.

Once he was safe, alone, and had plenty to drink, then he could try to face it. But not until then.

That was the Williams’ way, after all.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with a mop of greasy black hair stood watching the crowd of people go about their business. A guard, he guessed judging by the stained dark-blue uniform he wore.

This part of the village looked better than the rest. With dirty, pitted cobbles that shifted underfoot and buildings with signs on them. It was a definite step up from muddy streets.

Somebody had changed the lettering to some archaic font, to the point he couldn’t even read it.

But the images that were carved and painted alongside the words served well enough. There was a tavern, an inn, some kind of general store he guessed to be the gift shop, and another shop he couldn’t identify.

Hal approached the guard. The man’s deep-blue tunic sported tarnished brass buttons that had clearly seen better days. The sword he had belted on his hip looked old and dirty with several deep nicks.

No smile from this man, no form of greeting. Hal cleared his dry throat, remembering suddenly that he had been walking for a couple of hours without food or water.

Hiking a thumb back the way he came, Hal meant to say, ‘I was just mugged over there! He stole my phone and my wallet.’ Instead, what actually came out of his mouth was, “Dirty man do bad thing.”

What!? That is not what I said!

He cleared his throat once more and tried again, except this time his voice jumped several octaves until his words came out as a shrill, “VERY BAD MAN TOOK PRECIOUS!”

Hal just stared blankly at the man, hoping he was having a stroke and would just die already.

The man looked down his long, many-broken nose and squinted at Hal. He spoke in a strange language he never heard of. It sounded like a cross between French and Arabic.

Hal shook his head and spread his arms out wide, trying to mime that he didn’t understand him. Which meant he immediately started doing the chicken dance. Tucking his hands under his arms and flapping them like little wings.

What the flork is wrong with me? Wait. What? I didn’t say flork, I said flork. Oh come on, I can’t curse? Florking wonderful!

The guard reacted to the display with immediate prejudice. Hal could hardly blame him.

Before Hal even noticed the movement, the guard grabbed his left arm and squeezed painfully hard on his wrist as if feeling for a hidden dagger.

Confusion passed over the man’s face. He gave a casual yank on Hal’s left sleeve, the hearty flannel ripped as easily as tissue paper.

And out from that rip came a faint golden glow.

The guard’s gray eyes were dazzled by the display. He gingerly parted Hal’s torn sleeve to view the golden tattoo in full. His eyes went wide and he began to gibber incoherently.

The man’s voice was pitched high in abject terror.

A dark stain spread across the guard’s pants. His lips flapped uselessly trying to form words but only a stream of babble came out. Hal was frozen by the display, unsure how to take the sudden turn.

Their eyes met. Hal’s dark brown to the man’s light gray. The man shook and stepped back, his hands flew from Hal as if suddenly burned. He turned and fled, wailing and laughing in turn.

Confused, tired, and afraid, Hal hurried away as fast as he could.

At first, he walked. But the many stares and pointing fingers of those that had witnessed the strange display followed him. He wanted to be gone from this horrible place. So he ran, and shortly put the scene and the growing crowd behind him.

Hal continued to jog, wheezing the whole way, as he broke into the low foothills with a thick forest of dark trees. He only stopped once he had crested the second hill.

He leaned tiredly against the bark and tried in vain to catch his breath.

It didn’t surprise him as he looked down toward the village he had just fled from and spotted tiny flickering torchlight heading his way in the darkening afternoon.

A storm rolled in soon after Hal began his continued flight into the wooded foothills of that horrible place. With no idea where he was and no help forthcoming, Hal was forced to rely on his survival skills.

Of which he had none.

He didn’t know which plant to eat. Which plant would kill him, and he suspected that many of the plants were unknown to even the most esteemed botanist.

The rain drove him on, it pushed at his back and soaked his clothes. His boots were the only thing that remained dry. He had bought into the whole hipster trend when he moved to Seattle and the pair of expensive hiking boots had kept his feet dry this entire time.

Every other part of him, however, was soaked to the bone.

Despite the dreariness of the rainstorm, it seemed to have a stronger effect on the villagers that had decided to chase him. They never got close enough to see more than a fleeting water-logged glimpse of their quarry, and with the rain dampening their torches they eventually gave up.

Hal kept going regardless.

The trees became larger, the land more unruly, but no longer hilly. He thought he heard the sound of running water but through the wind, rain, and darkness he couldn’t locate it.

He cupped his hands in a feeble attempt at catching the rain to quench his cracked lips and parched throat. His gait became leaden and clumsy. The uneven ground tripped him more often than not.

Eventually, fatigue and fear claimed their due.

Hal nearly collapsed when he finally found a reasonably dry section of underbrush beneath the sheltering roots of a large tree he could curl up beneath.

Sleep fell upon him in an instant. His dreams were filled with more running. This time from terrible beasts. Monsters that reached out and wanted nothing more than to devour him whole.

When he awoke, the rain had slowed to a drizzle and in the tiny hollow he had found, he was almost warm. As consciousness returned, he nearly screamed at the dozens of insects that were crawling all over him.

Hal had not slept in a warm comfortable place, as he had first thought. But rather a nasty, dirty hole with a roof of roots and an oozy smell he couldn’t clear from his nostrils.

Fear lent him strength and Hal quickly got to his feet, brushing and smacking at his arms and legs to rid himself of the crawling things.

He shivered, more from the bugs than the cold, and immediately set off again. He hoped he was going in the same direction he was traveling the night before.

It took him some time to find his bearings. How long, he couldn’t tell. The overcast, drizzly sky gave him no clues as to the sun’s position. But he did find the direction he was walking last night and, more importantly, he found a river.

Whether it was the same one he had heard on and off throughout the evening, he couldn’t be sure.

And he didn’t care.

The river leaned down into a trough and trickled over a bed of bright river stones every color of the rainbow. It was barely five yards wide and shallow enough that he could wade through it up to his hips if he so chose.

Hal dunked his head into the cold waters. Refreshed, he cupped his hands and drank his fill.

For once, he felt a measure of safety. There were no ominous noises, no beasts to hunt him, no monsters like in his dreams. And no insane people chasing him.

The guard had, quite literally, lost his florking mind when he saw the mark on Hal’s arm. And apparently, so had he.

There was no explanation for his inability to speak properly or the strange, involuntary urge to mock the man. And with his sleeve ripped, it wasn’t going to be easy to hide it if he meant to venture into another village.

Which he knew he needed to do if only to find some dry clothes and food. He wasn’t any good at foraging and the gnawing pit in his middle demanded he eat something.

Hal smeared a handful of river mud over his mark. It was thick enough to block out the glowing light and he was filthy enough that it no longer looked out of place.

It was pitiful protection against prying eyes, he knew. But he also could not think of a better solution. He knew there was one but every time he grabbed at it, the concept vanished.

He needed to find a village to get some food and warm clothes somehow. And if these people were as backwaters as they seemed, they’d have their clothes drying out on a line.

And while he was trading his dirty, soggy clothes for dry ones, maybe there’d be a pie on the windowsill.

Yeah, right, he thought with a snort, rising to his feet. That’s about as likely as finding a door back to my apartment.

If he had to survive in the wilds, he would be dead. If not by some random animal, then by eating something poisonous.

And so, with a belly full of fresh water, Hal continued on. His stomach wasn’t fooled though. It soon began to grumble and groan loudly for something substantial.

Halfway through that day, Hal came upon another village.

This one was smaller, more like a farming community. Large fields in squarish patches ringed this side of the little village but he saw no crops. Only strange blocky impressions in the ground.

This village, like the one before it, was tucked away amid sheltering hills. But the land between them was relatively flat and the forest butted up against several homes. Many of which, he saw through the gaps in the trees, did indeed have clotheslines full of garments.

He had no way of knowing if the villagers here would be hostile. And after the last two interactions, he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to risk it.

He was somewhere else. Somehow, someway, he was in a different land.

What little instincts he possessed screamed at him that this was distinctly other. There were too many idiosyncrasies. Too many minor differences that added up to create an alien world that only looked like home on the surface.

He could no longer deny that he was far from home. No matter how much he wanted to.

Hal skirted the edge of the forest toward the closest homes while he waited for the light to fade to dusk. They were more rough timber one-room shacks than actual houses.

It was less than ten yards to the nearest clothesline. Flapping in the faint breeze he saw a dark cloak, some white medieval-looking shirts, and dark pants that looked worse off than his jeans.

The hills on either side of the small village cloaked the wooden shacks in gloom well before the sun fully set.

Just enough light for Hal to see by. Hopefully, enough to grab some clothes and maybe some food if he was lucky.

2

Under the failing light, Hal crept out of the woods. He kept as low as possible, moving between the walls of swaying laundry hanging out to dry. Every footstep felt impossibly loud as it crunched on the dry grass.

So far he only found bed linens and women’s clothes. Up ahead he saw the dark cloak he spotted from the forest and made a beeline for it.

The brown cloak was in direct view of an open window. And on its sill was something that looked a lot like a pie. Hal crept closer to the cloak, but his eyes – and his stomach – could only focus on the food another five or six yards away.

A distant echoing boom resounded and he found his vision drawn up and over his left shoulder to the dark, bruised sky. He managed to catch the tail end of a flash. Then another series of dull explosions, like distant fireworks, and more flashes.

Isn’t that out of order? He thought, entranced by the spectacle. The lights came after the sound. It should have been reversed.

The booming flashes of light came again. This time, he paid closer attention. Two booms, three flashes, two booms.

A signal. It was too regular to be anything else.

It repeated again a few seconds later.

Hal turned his attention back to the cloak and pulled it free from the line. In the flash of the signal fireworks, Hal looked back to the pie. All thought of taking it flew from his head at the sight.

A young woman stood at the window watching the sky, a heavy knife in her hand to cut the pie. In the bright revealing light of the fireworks, she saw Hal.

Her expression sprang from one emotion to the next. Worry, confusion, then anger when she realized Hal was stealing, and finally wide-eyed horror when she caught sight of his forearm.

And the glowing golden light that stood out in stark contrast to the gloom that fell between each flash of the night sky.

In the hours since Hal covered it in mud, the masking stuff had dried and cracked apart. When he went to pull the cloak down, the gold light of the mark shone clear through the dried dirt.

He didn’t wait for the woman to recover her wits. Hal turned and fled back toward the forest. All thought of getting any food or more clothes abandoned.

Glancing over his shoulder, Hal saw the woman cock back her arm. He was already halfway to the forest. There was no way she could hit him from that distance.

The woman didn’t seem to agree.

Hal watched in horror as the knife flipped end over end toward him. Its graceful arc put it on a collision course with the flapping blankets of laundry.

At the last second, the wind shifted like some cruel joke. The knife that should have gotten tangled up in the sheets, sailed clear over the dozens of yards right for Hal’s back.

Hal dropped to the dirt as fast as he could.

The blade sliced through the air where he was standing a heartbeat before. It made a dull thump somewhere in the treeline. The distance worked in his favor. It gave him time to react, no matter how impossible the woman’s throw was.

The [Broken Woman] uses Knife Toss.

The attack misses.

He scrambled to his feet, the flash of text vanishing before he could focus on it. Hal tried to find the knife but gave up when he didn’t see it after a few seconds of searching.

He didn’t have the time.

The small village came alive with the sound of shouts and a chillingly discordant horn that sounded throughout every home.

Any guilt he had about stealing the cloak vanished.

What’s petty theft matter if they already wanted to hurt me or kill me?

Once he was beneath the thick boughs of the forest, Hal took a moment to don the cloak. It was rougher than anything he’d ever felt but he immediately felt warmer.

It struck him as odd that the effect was so complete and stark. Body heat simply did not work like that. It was almost like….

Magic, came the unbidden thought, and he pushed it roughly away. But it came back with a vengeance as he made his way deeper into the woods with no course in mind beyond putting as much distance between him and that last village.

If there was magic, and he was marked, shouldn’t he have some way of defending himself? He was as weak as a toddler compared to everyone else.

Rather than feeling like he was in an epic movie, he felt scared and alone.

Night came swiftly in the covered forest.

A steady downpour tried to drown him. Thankfully, the cloak held up. His feet ached, and he was covered in at least two dozen bleeding scratches and bruises from slips, falls, and stray branches.

No movie, video game, or book ever prepared him for how impossibly dark it gets when there are no street lights, no moon, and no stars. In the depths of the forest, it went beyond simple darkness to an abyssal ink.

He couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face.

Fear was the only thing keeping him going, yet the worry of stumbling into a dry gully and snapping his leg or worse finally forced him to stop. He hadn’t heard any signs of pursuit for at least an hour.

With the cloak about him, he was reasonably dry and it was large enough that he could prop up against one of the massive tree trunks and tuck up beneath the brown material.

His second night was less miserable than the first. Though he had nothing to eat for two days, and little to drink, he was dry and relatively warm.

Blissful, dreamless sleep claimed him that night, and the following morning he awoke to the distant baying of hounds. It would seem they were going to give up after all.

In his groggy, half-asleep state Hal thought it was another nightmare and he tried to go back to sleep. But when the baying came again, this time even closer, he recognized the danger he was in.

His eyes shot open with the burst of fear-laden adrenaline. Rather than leaping to his feet and continuing his panicked flight from the day before, Hal stared down three feet of gleaming steel pointed at his face.

Trailing his gaze down the subtle curve of the blade to the young woman that held it, Hal wondered just how he could get away.

A quick glance as the woman’s piercing blue-gray eyes told him she wasn’t about to fall for any tricks.

He kicked himself for ignoring the earlier warning. But he had been so exhausted. Nobody expects to randomly find themselves alone in a savage world. Not any normal modern-day adult.

This was his third day without food and the constant exertion was taking a heavy toll on his unfit body.

Being tired, afraid, with a dozen aches in places he didn’t know he could ache in, not to mention starving and severely dehydrated, played a massive impact on his ability to think clearly and muster any strength to keep going.

The woman was still holding the blade, its tip a clear threat, but she made no move to use it. She eyed him with those sharp, intelligent eyes that took in the filthy, disheveled mud-caked man before her.

As she looked over him, her eyes inevitably fell to his left arm. The cloak’s roughspun fibers let out just enough light from the mark to draw attention to it. Under the shade of the forest canopy, it was fairly conspicuous.

She barked a command in a foreign language, melodic and lilting. Even her rough tone could do nothing to strip the music from her words.

Seeing his obvious confusion, she spoke again in a different language. Every syllable was filled with a guttural sound. Seeing the lack of Hal’s comprehension, she spoke in a third language, this time in clipped sentences.

Of all the languages, the last one sounded closest to English. The utterly foreign words, however, made it impossible for him to grasp what she was trying to get across.

Hal spread his arms out wide, shrugged his shoulders, and shook his head. “What say.”

He cringed.

The way her face screwed up at his idiotic, foreign words told him enough. Though if she did speak his language, he imagined her reaction would be no different.

There would be no overcoming this language barrier. He had to admit, this was about as good as he probably could expect. She wasn’t hurting him or locking him up. Nor had she run away in fear.

Attempting to communicate was never a bad sign.

Eventually, like every other person, she focused on his mark. Hal watched her inch the blade toward his left arm. He kept very still indeed, aware that the slightest twitch might set the girl off.

Sharp eyes flicked toward Hal as she fell into an easy - and impossibly deep, to Hal’s limited mobility – squat and moved toward his outstretched arm. She paused halfway there to regard his brown eyes.

“Heljei,” she breathed in awe.

“Hairgel?” Hal asked.

The girl looked at him and with her free hand pointed to her eyes with her index and middle finger. She pointed to the dirt, then to Hal. The closest Hal could get out of the miming was that he had… dirty eyes? Rude.

Brown, answered his awakening brain. Heljei means brown eyes? Why would that matter? While Hal wasn’t the most observant at all times, especially not in his present state, but looking back he couldn’t recall a single dark-eyed person in either village.

Every other human he’d seen, including the one in front of him, possessed bright and colorful eyes. He even recalled a few with impossible colors like lavender and rose.

Bent over his arm, her free hand pulled up the rough cloth of the brown cloak and her reaction was the same as every other. The gold light from the mark dazzled her eyes and she stared with great awe at it.

If he had any hope of escaping, now would be it. While she was distracted.

Hal tensed, readying himself to slip out of her grip and spring away as fast as he could. He certainly wasn’t going to wait around for her to skewer him with that sword, or worse, wait until those baying hounds found him.

The slight twitch of his muscles alerted the girl and she tightened her grip. It wasn’t painful but it might as well have been an iron manacle about his wrist. At the same time, she angled her blade toward his heart, resting the flat of it on her raised forearm.

All it would take was a casual lean from his captor, a few inches, to kill him. Embarrassed at being so thoroughly foiled before he ever got the chance, Hal relaxed and leaned sullenly against the tree at his back.

With a nod that told him she expected no less of a sensible reaction, the woman withdrew the threatening blade. Even without it aimed at him, Hal was certain she could cut him down before he rose to his feet.

Hal watched her as she became enamored with the mark once more. The light seemed to fill her bright, wide eyes. She looked around the same age at him, mid-twenties, but that was where the similarities stopped.

She wore an outfit that, at first glance, looked like a thousand leaves sewn together. But upon further inspection, he found they were cunningly worked leather plates. They overlapped and were perfectly colored to give the appearance of individual leaves.

Most of her skin was covered except for the fingertips at the end of her gloves and her face. She had a slightly plump cherubic face with golden blonde hair. A single red thread was wound throughout a thickly plaited cord of golden hair that ran down the side of her face.

She was beautiful. Shorter than Hal but lean and strong like a gymnast, readily evident even under the camouflaging armor she wore.

She caught Hal staring at her and her lightly tanned skin flushed. From the way her blue-gray eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, he knew that was no blush of embarrassment. It was anger.

He did his best to paint an innocent look on his face and smile but it didn’t lessen her scowl. She jerked his arm and pointed at the dirtied mark, caked with dried blood and mud, while she let loose another stream of urgent-sounding words.

All Hal could do was shake his head. “Me no know what do! Bright color, why?” He jabbed a finger at the golden mark, suddenly angry. Doubly so because the words that came out of his mouth weren’t the ones he intended to say.

He wanted to tell her that he didn’t know why he had the mark, much less what it was. Not that she would have understood him anyway.

None of this was fair. He wanted to be back in his apartment, ordering so much takeout from the local Chinese restaurant that he was on a first-name basis with the delivery guy.

The Huntress, as Hal was beginning to think of her, took out a cloth and a canteen. She poured the water out onto the dark cloth and Hal’s eyes went wide with thirst.

He licked his dry, chapped lips.

That look had not escaped her notice and in an act of kindness, she handed him the leather-wrapped canteen. While Hal hungrily drank from the relatively small canteen, the Huntress scrubbed the blood and mud from his mark.

If she thought the mark would be wiped away, she was sorely mistaken.

Hal watched out of one eye as he forced himself to slow down and sip the water, knowing the dangers of drinking too much, too fast. The mark shone even brighter than before. Its many intricate lines were as clear as the day he first arrived.

The baying of the hounds echoed all about them and the sound of distant voices filtered in through the trees. There was a strangeness to the forest, the way it warped and twisted sound.

Hal stopped drinking from the canteen that seemed to hold a suspiciously large quantity of water to better listen. They were close now. He watched the Huntress for any sign of what she would do. He was at her mercy and under no illusion that she was going to let him go.

Would she kill him, or hand him over to his pursuers? It would be nice to know why they were chasing him. It wasn’t like he hurt anybody or did anything bad.

The theft of a single cloak surely didn’t warrant such an aggressive response.

Without any preamble, the Huntress released his arm and stood. In one smooth motion, she sheathed her sword and offered a gloved hand to Hal. He grabbed it and she effortlessly hauled him to his feet.

The Huntress put a finger to her pursed lips. Hal nodded his understanding. She pulled a bow off her back and fit an arrow to the string. Keeping low, she guided Hal around the tree he slept beneath and up a nearby slope.

He did the best he could to keep up and stay silent but he was noisy and slow. His stomach twisted in a tightening knot of pain. Every few feet the Huntress stopped and waited for Hal.

The forest changed around them. Thick trunks gave way to smaller ones with larger gaps in the canopy overhead letting in streams of gray morning light. The storm, it seemed, had spent most of its fury last night and was content to leave the sky overcast.

Thick underbrush grew up between the thinning trees. The Huntress led him through, pulling branches and bushes aside to aid in his passage.

Every so often Hal took another drink from the canteen. By his estimation, he drank enough refreshingly cold spring water to fill the oblong container several times over. No matter how long he drank, the canteen never emptied.

Before Hal had time to ponder the implications – or the impossibility – of the canteen, the Huntress grabbed him and pulled him roughly to the ground. He would have fallen face-first if she hadn’t put out another hand to catch him inches from the dirt.

The Huntress guided him deeper into the thick underbrush until they were both well-hidden.

Like every other person he came across, the Huntress was ridiculously strong and had no problem moving him about like he was a doll. Conversely, Hal was weaker than he ever had been in his life, and he didn’t chalk that just up to exhaustion, starvation, and dehydration. It was something more than that, just like his inability to speak with any semblance of intelligence.

Through the bushes, he couldn’t see much, but the Huntress could. She had her sword out and murder in her eyes. And while the villagers didn’t seem to harbor any good intentions toward him, he didn’t know if they deserved to die.

For all he knew, the mark meant he was some virulent plague bringer.

If only he could speak their language, understand what they were saying.

Better yet, if he could speak their language and didn’t sound like an idiot. It hit him how important communication was. Discerning friend from foe was so much easier when intentions were obvious.

The whole ordeal could be a misunderstanding. Not that Hal was willing to risk himself on that theory.

While Hal couldn’t see the villagers, he could hear their many feet stomping around. They spoke in that same harsh, guttural language the Huntress tried to speak to him in.

Next to him, the Huntress tensed like some great hunting cat. Her eyes focused on the scene before her. Hal held his breath as the tension drew itself out to the breaking point.

Just as he wondered when she was going to spring out in a blur of violence and kill every man and woman there, the Huntress relaxed. The voices grew distant and a dozen shaky breaths later, she pulled him out of the bush and took off, strangely, in the direction the group had come from.

They had many more run-ins with the villagers. The baying of the dogs was background noise to their constant traveling. The Huntress pulled Hal along the entire way, never threatening but always insistent.

Hal didn’t know if she would stop him from leaving but he had no intention of fleeing. She was the only person that had helped him so far and he imagined he would be caught within minutes of being on his own.

The wily woman led them in strange, circuitous patterns that at times came uncomfortably close to his pursuers and at others seemed to place them far behind. Hal could make no sense of the direction and eventually gave up trying.

Instead, he focused on the Huntress and doing his best to follow her.

Sometime around midday, she held up a hand and Hal froze mid-stride. She cocked her head to the side. They hadn’t heard a villager or much of anything for the last hour. And rather than constantly changing their path, they were making a steady progression in a single direction.

He put a hand out to brace himself against the nearby tree. He was out of breath again. Through the bark, he felt a faint tremor.

Hal looked to the Huntress and their eyes met. He saw her worry and concern.

And a moment later, coming down from the high branches of the tree he was leaning against, he saw the reason.

It reared up ahead of them, the strangest creature Hal had ever seen. It stood well over ten feet tall, covered in a mixture of chitinous green plates and coarse black fur caked with green moss.

Thick trunk-like legs supported a wide fur-covered torso with an insectile head and long serrated arms like a praying mantis. It clicked its two-foot-long mandibles at them, bulbous eyes regarding them as little more than snacks.

The Huntress moved into swift action. She unslung her bow and had three arrows leaping into the air before Hal could even take his hand away from the tree.

Hal looked around on the ground, found a rock, and hefted it in his palms. As much as he wanted to run and hide, he could at least prove a decent distraction.

The arrows struck deep into the thick fur and the creature loosed a disorienting wail. The Huntress staggered for a brief moment.

The [Scourge] uses Stunning Wail.

You resist the effect.

Somehow unaffected, Hal hurled the stone as hard as he could. In a feat of atypical strength, he managed a decent throw. The rough stone tumbled end over end and struck the thing on its bulbous compound eye, just as it leaned down to strike at the Huntress.

You throw a rock at the [Scourge].

The [Scourge] takes 3 points of damage.

Am I in a game? That was the only time he had ever seen prompts like that before. He forced the thoughts away, he couldn’t afford to be distracted at a time like this.

That was all the Huntress needed. The creature swiveled its head to regard the annoyance, Hal. With its deadly arms slowed by the distraction, the Huntress jumped over the scything blades. She cleared six feet into the air like it was nothing.

The monster lifted one serrated claw and struck out at the easier target. Its arm came down at an angle that would cleave Hal from shoulder to hip. He tried to dive to the side but already knew he would be too slow.

But the Huntress wasn’t.

She pulled back on her bow and let fly a glowing arrow that cut a streak of red lightning through the air before her feet even touched the ground.

The arrow intercepted the claw and exploded.

Waves of heat washed over Hal’s face and rolled over his back. But the arrow had done its job and when the smoke cleared, the claw’s reach had been reduced to eight feet.

The broken four-foot-tip of the claw laid near Hal on the ground, leaking an ichorous briny fluid.

Feeling somewhat useful, Hal pushed himself up to his knees and looked for another rock. If he could distract the monster again, the Huntress could capitalize on it.

What he found instead was a wriggling length of rope he initially mistook for a snake. He leaped to his feet away from it at first, only to trip and fall.

The rope lashed out like a striking viper and coiled itself around Hal’s ankles before he could even shout. A second rope soared out from the side and perfectly encircled his wrists. In less time than it took him to say, “What do why?” Hal was tied up and lifted off his feet by the magical rope.

The Huntress uses Binding Rope.

You suffer the effect of Bind.

There was that prompt again.

The Huntress moved one hand through the air like she was conducting a symphony, her fingers left trailing lines of light in the chill air. In response, the ropes tugged harder and pulled Hal behind a row of sheltering trees.

He tried in vain to wriggle out of the bonds but they held tight.

In one move, the Huntress had removed him from the fight. Hal could still hear the sounds of battle but could no longer see anything. And it seemed like it was getting fainter.

His embarrassment and frustration soon gave way to amazement. He was floating in the air, suspended by magical ropes. His mind spun with the implications. Judging from the way she had cast the spell – or so he assumed – it was an easy thing, as she did it mid-combat.

Not to mention the game-like prompts. Just where was he?

Hal stopped struggling and examined them closer. They seemed like any normal rope, except faint silvery threads were wound throughout the weave. They glinted every so often in the wan light.

A chilling screech echoed through the forest, followed immediately by a heavy thump he heard but could not feel. The ropes lowered until his feet touched the ground a moment later.

They slithered from him and went around the side of the tree to join the Huntress. She knelt down and opened one of the many small pouches she carried – far too small for so much rope – and the two ropes obediently slithered up her thigh into the pouch.

In the distance behind her, Hal could just make out the charred and arrow-riddled remains of the monster.

She cast him an appraising, vaguely angry look. One that immediately turned to surprise as a golden wind surrounded Hal and flowed through him. His mind felt clearer than it had in years.

His body felt like he just spent a full day at an expensive spa, his muscles were relaxed and that ache in his back that had been bothering him for months was just… gone.

The Huntress defeats the [Scourge].

You gain 200 Experience Points. (-80% from Contribution).

Novice reaches Level 1.

You have 5 unspent Attribute Points awaiting distribution.

Your HP, SP, and MP are fully restored.

And how do I do that?

Hal started to say something when she raised a hand to forestall him. Without a word, she moved past him and continued on ahead.

He had plenty to think about as he followed in the wake of the Huntress.

Focusing on the prompt that remained in his vision for once brought up a simple menu.

By selecting “Status” in a similar way, a semi-translucent window of information floated in front of his face about an arm’s length away.

[Status]

Hal Williams

Level: 1

Next Level: 100/350

Classes

Novice: 1

Resources

Health Points(HP): 20/20

Stamina Points(SP): 20/20

Mana Points(MP): 20/20

Attributes

Strength(STR): 1 (+)

Vitality(VIT): 1 (+)

Dexterity(DEX): 1 (+)

Agility(AGI): 1 (+)

Intelligence(INT): 1 (+)

Mind(MND): 1 (+)

Charisma(CHR): 1 (+)

Regeneration

HP/hr: 6.5

SP/hr: 6.8

MP/hr: 6.8

Resistances

Fire: 0

Ice: 0

Wind: 0

Earth: 0

Lightning: 0

Water: 0

Light: 0

Dark: 0

Defensive Parameters

Defense(DEF): 0

Magic Defense(MDEF): 0

Insulation: 4

Class Affinity

Survival Skills

Combat Skills

Magic Skills

Crafting Skills

Social Skills

Hal rubbed his temples tiredly, trying to keep everything in sight while not tripping or falling over any of the roots or stones. The prompt said he had 5 points to spend, right?

Focusing on one of the plus icons next to a stat, Hal mentally poked at it. The number went up by 1. His STR doubled to 2 and suddenly his skinny stick-like arms bulked up and gained muscular definition.

Not enough to be considered healthy even, but more than he presently had. Though he was never so emaciated back in Seattle. Or ever in his life.

Okay, I get it.

As soon as he placed a point, another icon appeared to subtract it. He took away the point in STR. Immediately a wave of nausea assaulted him and it was an effort just to keep moving. He staggered more than once but managed to stay upright.

If these stats - all 1’s, he noted sourly - were really the representation of himself in this world, then a lot of things made sense. Chiefly, his demonstrably low INT.

First thing’s first. I cannot continue to talk like a florking idiot. And… if it really is this easy to increase my intelligence, maybe I can learn the language easier if I upgrade it.

Hal placed 4 points into INT, immediately his sluggish hazy thoughts became crystal clear.

Time for the true test. Hal cleared his throat and said, “Listen, I know we got off on the wrong foot but something was wrong with my brain before. Thank you for helping me.”

Relief washed over him as his mouth didn’t ad-lib or go full catatonic on him. The Huntress looked over her shoulder at him, but didn’t reply.

“Right,” Hal muttered. “The language thing.”

Still, it was a welcome change that he could speak properly now.

Hal confirmed the stat placement and looked at the single point left over, placing it into STR. His arms bulked a little again and it was easier to hold his head upright and walk properly.

He took another look at just the core stats to see if anything else changed, such as his regeneration.

[Status]

Hal Williams

Level: 1

Next Level: 100/350

Classes

Novice: 1

Resources

Health Points(HP): 20/20

Stamina Points(SP): 20/20

Mana Points(MP): 20/20

Attributes

Strength(STR): 2

Vitality(VIT): 1

Dexterity(DEX): 1

Agility(AGI): 1

Intelligence(INT): 5

Mind(MND): 1

Charisma(CHR): 1

Regeneration

HP/hr: 6.5

SP/hr: 6.8

MP/hr: 6.8

Fair enough, he thought. INT and STR don’t seem to affect regeneration rates.

After seeing how poorly having a 1 for a stat was, Hal’s first priority became getting every stat to a passable level. Seeing as having 5 INT seemed to be at least equivalent to his usual level of intelligence - as far as he could tell - that would be the benchmark he would set for the rest of his stats.

The untiring woman walked on, and though Hal tried to sate his hunger with more pristine mountain water from the magically infinite canteen, his stomach was not buying it.

It growled, continually and loudly. Enough that the Huntress finally looked back at him as if he was doing it intentionally. He gave her an apologetic shrug. She took the canteen and took a sip before giving it back, spoke to him again in a melodic voice before giving up and miming.

She rubbed her stomach, the leaf-molded plates of leather shifting with her touch.

“I guess some things are universal,” Hal said, nodding along. “Yes, I am starving.” Hal thought he remembered reading somewhere that a person could last over a week without food. He was fast coming up on only half that and he felt like death warmed over.

The Huntress nodded and took him over a nearby rise. Down in a small grassy depression, pock-marked with muddy pools from the recent rains, Hal saw the strangest tree he’d ever seen.

It towered above the rest but it wasn’t the tree that drew his eye.

It was the thousand different shades of virulently colored mushrooms that grew from the trunk. Many of them were large enough to sit on like something out of Alice in Wonderland.

The Huntress was already halfway to the tree by the time Hal realized he had stopped walking to marvel at the tower of fungus.

Weakened from hunger and the constant marching, Hal did his best to catch up but it was a poor attempt even with his extra point in STR. Now that the burst of adrenaline from the Level Up had worn off, he was more sluggish than ever.

By the time he reached the tree of a million fungi, the Huntress was hard at work examining the colorful things. Mushrooms had never been his favorite but he was so hungry he would have eaten almost anything placed in front of him.

The Huntress stopped him at a pace or two from the tree and grabbed his shoulder.

Hal looked questioningly at her. It was obvious she was trying to find a way to tell him something without using words. Finally, she nodded and held up a finger.

Releasing her grip on his shoulder, she pointed at him then mimed covering her eyes with one hand. Her free hand reached out toward the tree and she pretended to take something from it. Without looking at it or removing her hand from her eyes, she mimed shoving it into her mouth and eating.

“I got it,” Hal said with a nod. “You want me to shut my eyes and pick a mushroom at random and eat it without looking.”

The Huntress smiled encouragingly, the first smile he’d ever seen on her typically dour features. She took the canteen from him and stepped aside.

Normally, Hal would have been skeptical. Or even feared that this was some horrendously elaborate prank but he knew it didn’t hold any merit. If the woman wanted to poison or kill him, she had more direct methods.

And besides, Hal had let his whole life pass him by as he weighed the pros and cons of every situation in his life. He was tired of over-analyzing and coming up with plans for events that would never occur.

He wanted to live.

I don’t want to be the same person. Not here. If magic can exist, then that means I don’t need to be the same version of me that I’ve always been.

Hal took the remaining steps to the tree and reached out with his free hand, eyes squeezed shut. Blindly, he grabbed a spongy top and ripped off a chunk.

Without daring to open his eyes, afraid he’d chicken out at the last second, he took a bite.

His teeth crunched through the skin and into the dry spongey material below. It tasted about as bad as he expected. Like old gym socks or really expensive cheese.

He never could tell the difference.

Forcing down every bite, Hal ate the mushroom.

Hal opened his eyes to the worst acid trip in his life. Colors swirled and melted together then reformed entirely new never-seen-before hues. The Huntress stood before him but her eyes were swimming around her face and her mouth rippled and undulated like noodles in a bowl of soup.

The deep pit in his stomach was gone. Though he felt more than a little queasy, he also was strangely sated. As if he had eaten a large four-course meal.

The Huntress reached out and steadied him before he realized he was about to fall.

Everything spun and twisted around as the hallucination took hold.

I just ate a mushroom, what did I expect? He tried to talk but his words came out slurred and strange. The Huntress replied to him but he continued not understanding a single word.

As she laid him down onto the grass, another window appeared.

You eat the [Allspeak Fungus].

Language Unlocked: Common.

You are Poisoned!

You are Paralyzed!

Oh, good.

Darkness closed in around him and he heard the Huntress’s soft, lamenting voice, “…órë.” Her eyes found his, the only bright things in the darkness around. “Hlar mes’ifa? Can you hear me? What is wrong?”

Hal tried to answer but found he no longer had control over his tongue. The last thing he remembered was the Huntress bending down to lift him into her arms as the darkness finally closed in around him.

3

“Are you taking your potions? You know how you get...” said a woman, her voice laced with worry and concern.

Hal recognized that tone. It’s the one his mother used to use on him all the time when he was struggling to pick a major, unable to stay pinned down to anything for more than a year.

It was the tone of repressed disappointment and motherly worry.

“No, I haven’t been taking the potions, Mother,” snapped a familiar girl’s voice. It had the same musical quality as the Huntress but since he could understand her, there was no way it was her.

Couldn’t be.

“You go out at night into the Wilds, doing Gods know what and come back at all hours of the night - if you come back at all - and now you’ve brought this… this thing with you and expect me to do what, exactly?”

“Heal him,” the girl’s voice took on a pleading edge. “That is what you do, is it not? The thing you’ve always been after me for? I don’t hear you complaining when I go into the Wilds and bring back medicinal herbs that keep your rich patients alive and well.”

The silence that followed was shattered by the sharp sound of a slap.

“How dare you throw that in my face,” the older woman said. “I have done this to put food on the table and a roof over your head. Even when you choose to sleep out in the Wilds like some common animal, just like your father used to.

“You know the types of people that live outside of the Sanctums. Savages. Barely better than beasts. You think I don’t fear for my daughter when you go out there? Have you already forgotten what happened to your father?”

“I-I’m sorry, Mother. I am worried. Look at him, he is sick. What does it matter where he comes from?”

I’m sick? I mean, I was hallucinating my ash off just a bit ago. Seriously? Ash is considered bad? Whoever put this filter in place is such an ashhole. But I’m pretty sure the game prompts, the Level Up, the stats, were all real.

As if to test the theory he thought “Status” and his stats floated in the darkness behind his eyelids.

Yeah, thought so. Still, I can’t move so maybe I’m still paralyzed from that mushroom?

“What is he to you?” Suspicion crept into the mother’s voice. Cold, practiced hands began to check Hal’s body. “You have never brought an outsider into the Sanctum before. You know the penalties. Why risk it, who is he?”

“Nobody. A friend. I met him in the Wilds. He helped me fend off a couple of the Scourges.”

The mother scoffed and started to inspect Hal’s left wrist. There was a cloth tied around the mark that hadn’t been there before. “As if you’ve ever had any help with anything. What’s this then?” She tugged at the binding.

“I already dressed that wound!” the girl said sharply, her voice jumped several octaves in alarm. The old woman stopped tugging at the cloth. “The issue is something he ate. I think he ate a poisonous mushroom by mistake when foraging. I found a piece of it near him when I came back to camp. Here.”

“Girl, this is no ordinary mushroom. You say he ate this?” Why did she sound so aghast? I mean, it tasted bad. It had an unpleasant texture, and it gave me a deeply unsettling trip… okay, yeah I get it.

“I believe so.”

Just going to pretend you didn’t point out the mushroom for me to eat, huh? If I’m not still paralyzed when your mom leaves, we’re having some words.

“Gods above, the idiocy of men knows no bounds.” The older woman let out a gusty sigh. “If he’s not already blinded himself or become impotent I’ll be greatly surprised! Would serve him right too. Idiocy is one thing we cannot abide to spread at a time like this. Hand me the rinceroot, wheezle powder, and a pinch of asp scale.”

Okay, I’ve had enough of this. It was all fun and games until the backwoods yokels begin putting random herbal remedies into me.

Those cold, hard practiced hands roamed him again. Why was it that doctors or healers, or whatever they were called here, always had freezing cold hands?

Luckily, whenever she touched a sensitive spot on him that would have had Hal howling with laughter like some four-year-old, nothing happened. He felt the same sensations but his body stayed unresponsive. Like somebody had cut the circuits between his brain and his muscles.

A warm paste was spooned into his mouth. It tasted faintly of apples and what he assumed a pine air freshener tasted like.

Those two things should never be mixed.

As an added bonus, the woman thrust her cold finger into his mouth and scrubbed the disgusting paste all over his gums. The effect was slow at first but it gathered speed and spread throughout his body like wildfire.

It was like falling asleep on your arm and waking up when that horrible pins-and-needles hit.

Except a thousand times worse. And all over.

The feeling came back in fits and starts.

The old woman held him down as he started to flail and kick without much conscious thought. His eyes flew open. The woman was not nearly as old as he thought, maybe mid-forties at best.

Still fairly pretty. Also, surprisingly strong.

She held Hal down without much strain until his limbs came fully under his control once more. Her eyes were a watery blue and when she saw Hal’s, her hands leaped off him like he had burned her.

The older woman made some strange sign with her hands and moved back several steps. She stared agape at Hal then at the Huntress as the blonde came to Hal’s side, her blue-gray eyes searching his. “Can you understand me?” she whispered just for him.

Hal nodded. He tried to prop himself up on his elbows but his arms were weak. The Huntress piled up the pillows behind his back to give him something to rest against. “Thanks,” he said hoarsely, trying not to make a sour face at the paste that was still in his mouth.

Probably be rude if I spit it out… God, I hope this isn’t topical only. Hal swallowed it down as best he could without gagging.

“What is he?” asked the mother. Her voice shook and she would not take one step closer. “What have you brought into my house? Into the Sanctum?” Every question made her voice jump another octave until it was shrill with fear and anger.

The Huntress gave Hal a kind smile. She did not shy away from his gaze like the healer had.

Hal found those mysterious blue-gray eyes of hers surprisingly mesmerizing. The light seemed to bend and shift within them, they were never the exact same color when he looked at them. “Do not be afraid, Mother,” she said, keeping her eyes on Hal. “He is here to help us. I saw the Broken chase him through the woods at the edge of the Wilds.”

The older woman blew a strand of graying dirty blonde hair out of her face and crossed her arms skeptically, but she didn’t seem quite as fearful. “I thought you said he helped you fight off a Scourge?”

“That was after I approached him.” The Huntress looked over her shoulder at her Mother. “Anyone they hate is a friend to us. Is that not what you told me?”

She had shed that cloak of shifting colored leaves and instead wore a simple leather vest - Hal vaguely recalled it as a jerkin - over a forest green long-sleeved shirt. There were far too many belts and pockets for his taste. He’d never find anything in it but it looked good on her. Useful.

“Fine, but this is on your head.” She jabbed a bony finger at her daughter. “If the Magistrate finds out you’ve broken protocol, there will be a terrible price to pay. Once he’s well enough, you get him out of here. I will not harbor an outsider.”

From where Hal laid, propped up against the pillows, he could just make out the side of the Huntress’ face. The way her eyes narrowed, the tiny muscle that jumped in her jaw under the smooth tanned skin. “Very well, I will see to him from now on then.” And though it looked like it pained her, she bowed formally to her mother. “I appreciate all you’ve done.”

The look on her mother’s face was priceless. Her mouth formed a perfect O and her eyes bugged out so far they seemed like they might roll out of her head.

Hal had the distinct impression that the Huntress had never been much for gratitude. Maybe the mother had thought she’d wash her hands of Hal as well once he was on his feet.

Whenever he looked at the Huntress there was nothing but a bucketful of mixed signals. She had seemed to help him at first. Clearly, she had waited for him to come out from his hiding place and speak to him.

Then she tied him up like some wild animal when he tried to help her, and then told him to go eat some poisonous mushrooms.

That last bit may have actually paid off, not that he was sure going blind and impotent for life was worth it. He hadn’t been able to understand a dang word she had said before and now it sounded as if they were speaking English. Which he was absolutely certain they were not. He knew their language.

Common, if he remembered the prompt correctly.

Gretilda finally declared him fit enough to get the heck out of her house. “After supper,” she added before throwing on a cobalt-blue cloak and vanishing out the door.

Gretilda’s place was cozy, with stone walls, a roaring fireplace, and clean furnishings. The type of thing you’d see in a medieval reenactment with a few added cushions and creature comforts that always seemed to be missing in his opinion.

Before Hal could say anything, the Huntress rounded on him and held out an accusatory finger. “Before my mother gets back, we need to go over a few things.”

Hal shut his mouth with an audible click. Patience may not have been one of his virtues but he could try. New world, new me.

“First, do not show anybody that mark on your wrist. Keep it covered. Always. Second, you can understand me because you ate an allspeak mushroom. It let you understand Common, the language most people speak.

“And third, until we are alone you should keep quiet and do as I say. There are dangerous people constantly seeking somebody like you out, and if they find you, you will beg for death.”

For a moment Hal let all that settle in. “Wow, all right. That’s a lot to unpack. I’m going to need some answers. First, who are you? Why did you save me? Why do you care what I do or don’t do and why are you lying to your mom about me?”

Her eyes flicked back and forth from one of Hal’s brown eyes to the other as if she could read something within. As much as it unnerved him, he forced himself to keep his eyes locked on hers.

“My name is Elora. I saved you because you were chased by the Broken and I wanted to see why. Now I know.” She jerked her chin towards the hidden mark on his left wrist. “Which makes you important.

“You clearly aren’t from around here, the mark much makes that obvious. But I care because I saved you and... because you just might be my only chance at a life outside of the oppressive rule of the Founder. For many more than just me. Do you have a name?”

You have unlocked Persuasion (Level 0).

All civilizations are founded on the principles of compromise. You have taken the first steps along the road of making sure that others compromise more than you.

Your Persuasion has risen to Level 1.

+1% Persuasion success (1%).

+0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (0.5%).

“It’s Hal. And you still haven’t said why you’re lying to your mom.”

Elora pursed her lips, her eyes glittering. A warning to Hal that he was pushing into dangerous territory. Hal met her gaze and found it a little easier this time to hold it. He’d been bullied and let everybody else tell him what he should be all his life and it had made him miserable.

He wasn’t going to let that happen again.

“Fine,” she finally said, throwing up her hands. “My mother is a good woman - mostly. She’s a Healer if you haven’t already caught on to that. But she doesn’t like to rock the boat.

“She’s eked out a nice life for herself in Sanctum-Fallwreath. If she learned the truth about you, I don’t know what she’d do and you are too important to risk letting her determine your fate.”

Hal got up on wobbly legs and forced himself to pace back and forth in the small living room. “What’s a Sanctum? I’ve heard you both talk about it and while I understand the word, I’m getting the feeling like this is a contextual thing. And why would I wish I was dead if somebody caught me for having this… thing on my arm.” He motioned sharply at his bandaged forearm.

“I don’t have time to get into a history lesson with you right now, she could come back at any moment. Do you have walls for your cities where you’re from?”

Hal shrugged one shoulder. “Older ones, maybe.” He couldn’t exactly remember anything other than some of the old castle towns in Europe having walls around them.

“Well, a Sanctum is like that. They are safe. That is all you need to know right now. And as for your other question, you’re a threat to them. You surely have people with immense power and influence where you’re from?”

Hal nodded.

“Right. So, imagine what one of those people would do if a completely defenseless future threat, a future king showed up on their doorstep?” Elora made a dismissive gesture at Hal.

“I think I’m beginning to understand,” he said. Though, understanding and believing were two very different things. Hal was just about to ask about the prompts and the game-like nature of them when a loud thumping came from the door.

Elora’s face fell. “No,” she whispered, her voice strangled with disbelief. “She wouldn’t.”

Before Hal could ask what she was talking about, the door exploded into flinders and several heavily armored soldiers with white and green livery poured into the room.

4

Hal’s arm was nearly wrenched from the socket as Elora pulled him into the adjoining room and slammed the door behind them. It had shelf upon shelf of potions. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling in bunches, giving the air a medicinal scent.

Still holding Hal’s hand, Elora jumped and grabbed a dangling cord he hadn’t seen among the herbs. A sliding ladder dropped into place at her feet. “Up,” she commanded, pushing him up to the ladder. “Go. The door won’t hold for long but it’s stronger than the front door!”

Hal hurried up the ladder. The door was being banged on but it barely seemed to move despite being far thinner than what the front door had been.

I’ll add it to the list of things that don’t make sense around here.

The second floor was filled with covered furniture and various crates with a small round window at either end. Elora was up through the ladder in seconds. She hopped past him and snatched a fistful of his flannel, dragging him along in a stumbling gait.

The dust that kicked up drove his allergies crazy.

By the time they got to the small window, Hal’s eyes were watery and he could hardly catch a breath between the sneezing. When she opened up the window he could finally breathe. The sound of something breaking echoed from the hatch behind.

“We have to hurry,” Elora said. She let go of him, stepped up onto a crate, and slipped out of the round window with ease. She stood on the slick tiled roof as effortlessly as any cat. “They’ll be up any second now, I have to get you out of the Sanctum.”

Hal climbed atop the crate and stuck his head out of the window. A dizzying wave of vertigo nearly made him black out. He hated heights. They were terrifying and the way his pulse kicked up made him feel the coward he had been all his life.

But he didn’t want to be a coward any more.

A metropolis of elegant, towering stone structures dotted the skyline. The city swept far out to the horizon, as large as any modern city.

To his right was a gargantuan tree with autumn leaves. Only this tree was the size of the Empire State Building. Its branches were pale as snow as they spread over a quarter of the sprawling city. Dancing motes of reds and oranges drifted between its mighty boughs the size of subway trains.

This was no backwater medieval town. How could he ever escape?

Elora crouched down, hand extended through the open window, her eyes pleading. Over Hal’s shoulder, the first of the soldiers came into the attic. They got one look at him and shouted, “Halt there! Stay where you are and no harm will come to you.”

Yeah, right. He didn’t believe a word of that but if he stayed where he was, he didn’t have to go out onto that terrifyingly slick rooftop and fall to his death.

“Where’d the girl go?” came another voice from the ladder. Hal glanced over his shoulder then back to the window and came to a realization. He was blocking their view of Elora through the small window.

His heart hammering in his chest, his face red with panic and shame, Hal forced himself to look into the shimmering blue-gray eyes of Elora. He reached out to her.

No, I’m not going to give in to my fears.

Elora pulled him through the narrow window and out into the cool night air.

Nearly slipping, Hal followed Elora around the side of the sloping house. He tried desperately to keep his eyes focused on Elora and not the drop to the cobbled streets below as they went to the edge of the roof. Where another building was within easy reach.

Elora made the jump look easy but Hal had his hands full just staying on his feet with his 1 DEX. He felt a little bit like Bambi on the icy pond.

Hal backed up a few feet to get a running start just as a guard stuck his head out of the small window. “Hey! Get back here!”

That was all the motivation Hal needed. He ran as fast and as hard as his pitiful 2 STR would let him. When he leaped the narrow two-foot gap, he nearly didn’t make it.

Once again, Elora saved him. Her hand shot out and grabbed his forearm. Together, they ran on from rooftop to rooftop, somehow managing to stay ahead of the guards. The city rang with warning bells and shouts of alarm.

“This way,” Elora said, “it’s not too far now. We’ll be out of the Sanctum soon, Hal. Just a few more streets.” She turned and rounded the corner of the gently sloping roof.

Hal followed after her, watching her dive aside to the wet tiles of the roof. Just as an arrow whistled past her lithe form.

And buried itself right in Hal’s thigh.

The [Sanctum Guard] hits you with an arrow for 12 points of damage.

You suffer the effect of Bleed.

Screaming in sudden pain, Hal’s left leg gave out and he went tumbling over the edge of the roof even as Elora tried to grab him. As he fell to the dark alley below, all he could make out was her quickly shrinking shining blue-gray eyes.

A sharp jolt of pain nearly knocked him unconscious when he smacked into the alley two stories below. When his impaled leg hit the cobbles, the agony of the arrow burrowing deeper pulled him completely under.

* * *

Hal woke up with yet another splitting headache. His leg was worse, bandaged roughly and spotted with blood. It nearly made him vomit with pain.

When he reached to feel his brow, wondering how bad that injury was, his hands only came to his chest before they were stopped by the clink of metal chains.

“Are you shirting me? Oh really, I can’t say shirt? Florking shirtballs! What isn’t a curse here?” he grumbled and tugged harder. Metal bit into his wrists painfully and he stopped before he added tetanus to his list of ailments.

He took a moment to take stock. The light was ridiculously dim, he could barely make out his hands. His back was up against a cold and damp stone wall. So that probably meant he was underground.

Well, obviously I’m in a dungeon or something. Not too much of a stretch. At least now I have time to take a look at just what kinds of prompts there are.

Just thinking the word, “Menu” brought it up for him.

Status

Equipment

Spells

Abilities

Traits

Inventory

Quests

Settings

As surreal as it was in this situation, the first thing Hal always did in any new MMO or RPG was adjust his user interface. The UI held all the useful information and being distracted by it was an easy way to wind up dead.

Doubly so now, since it wasn’t on a monitor he could look away from.

No matter where he turned his head, the window followed and stayed central in his vision. He selected “Settings” and went to work.

It took Hal awhile to finish configuring the color and look of the window and its prompts. He went with simplified log prompts over pop-up windows, and chose to have his HP, MP, and SP displayed at all times in the bottom left quadrant of his vision. Typical red, blue, and green color scheme.

As soon as he did, his HP came into focus and he winced. He was hovering around 5 HP. At least he wasn’t bleeding any more. Though one look at the gray bandage wrapped around the arrow wound in his thigh made him wonder if this world had antibiotics, because it was surely going to get infected.

Hal made a last-second adjustment to his UI, opting for succinct stats. As he brought up his stats again and focused on the individual stats, a series of succinct prompts flashed across his screen.

Level

Your cumulative Levels in each Class. Levels are gained by earning Experience Points through Quests, defeating enemies, training, or consuming certain items. Each Level awards 5 Attribute Points to freely dedicate to any chosen stat.

Next Level

The amount of Experience you currently possess and the amount of Experience needed to progress to the next level. Only applicable for Novices and Focused Classes.

Classes

Lists all acquired Classes and their Level.

Novice

The basic starting Class that every person has. Novice Level 10 is required to unlock additional Classes and does not count toward the Class Limit of 3 Classes.

Health Points(HP)

Your physical sturdiness. Once you hit 0 HP you pass out and risk death. Increased by VIT and Level.

Stamina Points(SP)

The amount of physical exertion you can withstand before needing to recover. Increased by AGI and Level.

Mana Points(MP)

Your magical reserves, MP dictates how many and which spells you may utilize and cast at a given moment. Increased by MND and Level.

Strength(STR)

Physical damage, and the ability to jump, lift, drag, or push items.

Vitality(VIT)

Physical fortitude, increases HP, and resistance to physical ailments, (Bleeding, Poison, Paralysis, etc.).

Dexterity(DEX)

Capacity for fine motor control and the ability to exploit weaknesses in an enemy’s defenses to issue Critical Hits. Heavily influences finesse based weapon damage.

Agility(AGI)

Quickness and balance. Influences Stamina.

Intelligence(INT)

General ability to perceive and understand the world around you. Amplifies magical damage and dictates the ability to utilize certain spells.

Mind(MND)

Magical fortitude, influences MP and resistance to mental ailments (Confusion, Charm, Amnesia, etc.).

Charisma(CHR)

Willpower, the force of your personality and social awareness.

Regeneration

The rate at which your HP, SP, and MP recovers over the course of an hour. Increased by VIT, AGI, MND, and Level respectively.

Resistances

Elemental resistances reduce incoming elemental damage of that type by a flat percentage.

Defense(DEF)

Decreases physical damage taken.

Magic Defense(MDEF)

Decreases magical damage taken.

Insulation

Reduces environmental afflictions from both hot and cold effects.

Class Affinity

Your current list of Classes that you possess a natural affinity toward. By performing actions that are in line with certain archetypes, you begin to attune yourself to that Class. Once one of your Class Affinities hits 100%, and any other necessary requirements are fulfilled, you can unlock that class.

Some Classes are hidden and require specific requirements or faction support to unlock. Classes can only be unlocked once you have reached Level 10 Novice or higher.

Skills

Skills are the product of your mastery over a given weapon, school of magic, or ability. Each skill has a Level associated, and each Level grants improvements based on the skill in question. Every Level represents a higher proficiency with that skill beyond the bonuses shown upon each increase in Level.

He wasn’t sure why it didn’t trigger before, but he was glad for the explanation. Maybe he would need to explicitly focus on specific things from now on to force the system to provide some context.

It quickly became obvious that each of the stats except for one were in constant opposition. STR and VIT. DEX and AGI. INT and MND. All but CHR had something to oppose. Then again, that was just a hunch.

I wonder what other Classes there are. Since I’m Level 1 Novice, I’m basically a child aren’t I? Yep, that tracks. Only 9 more Level Ups until I can be something other than a Novice.

Hal paused a moment, hearing a pair of heavy footfalls and the jingling of metal growing louder.

The door to his cell squealed as the key turned in the lock and let out a banshee screech when the door opened on unoiled hinges. Hal tried to raise his hands to cover his ears and the chains went painfully taught again. The manacles cut into his skin.

You suffer 1 point of damage.

“Awesome,” he muttered.

It took a surprising amount of willpower to keep his hands on the damp, rough stone floor when the torch was thrust into the room. After what he assumed were hours of darkness, the torchlight was agonizingly blinding in its brilliance.

Hal’s eyes watered and he had to shut them tight to stop the pain.

His hands twitched once or twice on the ground. The large brute he had expected was instead a svelte young woman, not much older than himself.

She had silver hair and a pair of thick ivory horns that came out from under the tousled hair and angled sharply up to a dull point. They were adorned with silver filigree near the base and partially hidden by her hair that flowed around them.

Horns, huh? Doesn’t look like devil horns.

Her perfect alabaster skin made her look like a doll but it was her eyes that truly drew him in. She had thick dark lashes despite her silver hair and the saddest eyes he had ever seen. He couldn’t tell what shade of green they were in the flickering torchlight.

The woman spoke in a stilted language to somebody outside the door and it shut behind her. She lifted the torch high in her hand, the dull orange light cast shattered reflections of light across her slim-fitted armor.

Hal watched her carefully step forward, her greaves making nearly no sound as she stepped lightly on the stone floor. When she got within five feet of Hal she stopped and looked down at him with pity.

“Hello.” Her voice was breathy but far from sultry, more like a sigh. “My name is Ashera. I will be your Keeper.”

“What’s a Keeper?” Hal asked, squinting against the light. Ashera did him the kindness of walking to the side and dipping the flame into something high above.

Flames raced across the walls near the dark stone ceiling, illuminating the room in a warm glow. With a surprisingly strong puff from her pursed lips, Ashera blew out the roaring flame of the torch and tossed it aside.

Huh, medieval recessed lighting, Hal thought, looking at the flickering lines of flames set high into the walls.

It showed him how depressingly small his chamber was. Maybe ten feet across with a single bed of thin straw near him and two buckets in the center of the room.

Despite the disgusting look of them, he hoped they had food. His stomach spasmed painfully at the thought.

Ashera gave him a quizzical look. “Do they not have them where you come from? Are you one of the Broken, then?” Though she seemed wary of him, the silver-haired woman inched closer to get a better look. “No, you are not.” Her eyes widened when she saw the darks of his.

Why do they always look so surprised to see boring brown eyes?

“I don’t even know what that is,” Hal said. “I don’t even know what I did wrong.” Not quite a lie, but running from the guards definitely couldn’t have looked good.

If it was possible, the sadness in her pale green eyes deepened. “It does not matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because you will be put to death at first light. As a Keeper, it is my duty to hear your sins and bear your memory in my heart so you may not be forgotten.” Her lips twitched into a semblance of a smile. “Nobody deserves to die unknown or to be forgotten. That is what a Keeper does. Your secrets are safe with me.”

5

Hal’s heart dropped into his stomach. He was going to be killed? Questions raced through his mind at the same time he was desperately trying to deny that it was going to happen.

Clearly, they mixed something up.

A clerical error. Something like that. There was no way he was going to be put to death for simply being in the wrong place or having a weird tattoo. He’d done nothing wrong. Not really. He didn’t ask to come to this alien world.

“So, you’re a priest?” Hal asked, trying to keep his voice calm. Maybe he should have been a coward and stayed behind. He pushed the thought aside roughly.

No, I did the right thing in following Elora. I doubt they would have let me go anyway, not after what Elora told me.

The woman shook her head. “I am not so lucky, no. My powers lie elsewhere, untethered and unclaimed by any deity.” She shrugged one shoulder. “So far.” The ghost of a smile graced her pouty lips.

“And I’m going to be killed.” Saying the words caused him a physical pain deep within his chest.

“Tomorrow,” Ashera agreed. “Which means we have several hours yet. More than enough time, I think.”

“And you’re okay with that? I’m being sentenced to death without a trial for what, being sick, and having somebody drag my nearly lifeless body into your city? How is that fair?”

“The world is often unfair. We all have our parts to play in it, however brief.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit!” Hal spat at her. “If I’m going to be killed tomorrow the least you can do is stop with the platitudes and give me something real.”

She looked hurt by the outburst, her eyes slid to the floor and away. When she looked back something in them had changed. They looked hardened with resolve. “Very well. You wish for something real?”

Ashera tilted her neck back, showing a thin band of twisted ivory so much like her pale skin that Hal had missed it at first. When she looked at him, the blush on her cheeks stood out bright and rosy but her eyes were hard bits of sea glass with a flickering fire behind.

On some subconscious level, he understood it to be a collar. And not a merely decorative one. Perhaps it was his higher INT, but he felt certain that it emanating a slight magical essence.

Hal lifted his chains gently, rattling them a little. “So you’re just as trapped as me,” he said softly.

Her eyes softened midway back to the sadness that seemed to weigh her down. “So you are not as blind as I thought. Tell me, what do you see?” Ashera thrust out her wrists.

Her form-fitted armor ended at her shoulders which left her arms bare except, now that he was looking for it, a faint tracery of lines crisscrossed from her middle and ring fingers all the way to her shoulders.

Unlocked Perception (Level 0).

As a measure of your general awareness, Perception allows you to pick out details of your environment that most others might miss. Higher Levels of Perception will highlight useful items or those of special significance.

Your Perception has risen to Level 1.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+2%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+5%).

“Lines, tattoos?” He looked up for some hint but her eyes were unreadable, her face an expressionless mask for once. Hal lifted his hand and cursed when the manacle jerked his wrist when he tried to point. “They go up from your middle fingers and twist all the way up to your shoulders I’m guessing.”

There was a hint of surprise in her eyes. Something in them sparked to life for a second. Something that looked a lot like hope to Hal, though he couldn’t say why.

“So,” Hal said, looking at the iron links of his chains, “do you know why I’m going to be killed?”

“I do not, though I can hazard a guess. Would that be… ‘real enough’ for you?” The edges of her lips quirked up.

Hal rolled his eyes at her. “Sure, give me your best guess as to why I deserve to be killed.”

“Oh. That is an entirely different line of thought that requires a different answer. I will answer in order, however, if you do not mind. It is only fitting, I think.”

The chains rattled as Hal made a rolling gesture with his hand for her to continue.

“You are not a Citizen of this Sanctum or any that the Founder - or more likely the Magister that oversees the mundane day-to-day operations - could find willing to lay claim to you.

“As such you are presumed dangerous and to be put to death rather than risk the harm you may cause the Sanctum. In short, you are an unknown and in the eyes of the Founder it is best to eliminate unknowns.”

“I’m assuming a Founder is the person in charge of this Sanctum?”

“You really must not be from around here.” Her gaze was piercing as she raked her eyes over him. “As to why you deserve to be killed? I could not even attempt to guess. I do not believe most people deserve death. Perhaps I am biased.”

“Because you bear the stories of their lives?” Hal guessed.

“Just so. Unfortunately, it is neither my place to pass judgment nor absolve of such crimes. My task is to remember them.” Though she didn’t say it, it was clear she disagreed.

“Why do you do it?” Before she could open her mouth, Hal added, “I mean why are you made to do it. It’s pretty obvious you aren’t given a great deal of choice in the matter. But what I can’t understand is what the point is.”

“The Founder is… superstitious. He does not like the supernatural, particularly ghosts of the vengeful kind.”

“And somehow talking to the soon-to-be-departed stops them from returning as ghosts to haunt that guy’s ash?”

“What a… horribly comical and crass thing to say.” Her lips thinned to suppress a smile. “In a manner of speaking, yes. A Keeper can soothe a soul, allowing them to pass on without the baggage of their life. It is a kindness to them and a potential aid to the Founder.”

Hal snorted. “Except you’re forced to do it. Doesn’t sound that kind when the person doing the job has just as much choice in the matter as the prisoner.”

Ashera paused a moment and then took several steps closer. She sat down so close that Hal could have reached out and touched her even with the ridiculously short chain. “You are odd.”

“Thanks.”

“Of all the people I have borne witness to, you are the first who did not wish to open up. You are the first to ask about me and my plight even though your own life is hours away from being over.” Ashera tilted her head to the side, the silver ornament that encircled the base of her horn glinted in the dim light. “Why?”

“I’m not that interesting, to be honest,” Hal answered truthfully. “Got nothing to unburden. I’m boring. Average. Typical.”

“And yet, you are the first in a long list of people who have never seen or thought to see the chains that bind me just as surely as those around your wrists. That is not ‘typical’ to me.” Ashera reached a hand out and gently rested her warm fingertips upon Hal’s cold and clammy hand.

“Aren’t you afraid I’m going to attack you and make a break for it?” Hal asked with a bark of a laugh at the ridiculous notion. Even doubling his STR to 2, he wasn’t breaking out of a wet paper bag.

She sandwiched Hal’s hand between her warm palms. It was the first time that he realized how cold he was. He still had all his clothes, they hadn’t bothered to strip or take anything off him. Not that he had anything to be taken. Though he was surprised to still see the bandage in place covering up the mark.

Considering what Elora had said, he bleakly wondered what more they would have done to him if they had seen it. It wasn’t like they could kill him any deader than he’d soon be.

“I do not believe you will harm me.” Ashera followed Hal’s gaze to the bandage. “I have some minor healing abilities, may I?”

“Why bother, I’m going to be dead soon anyway.” Though if he was being honest, it would be nice not to die quite so miserable. His head was killing him and his leg was sending nauseating waves of pain throughout his body with each beat of his heart. The worry over tetanus or infection was long-gone with the knowledge that he would be dead long before either could settle in. Thin trails of blood leaked out from beneath the heavy iron manacles.

“Because it will ease your pain and for a kind soul that reminded me I exist outside of my duties, it would be my honor.” Her hands glowed a soft gold and she touched them with supreme tenderness to Hal’s wrists one after the other.

Ashera casts Minor Cure.

You recover 15 points of HP.

The feeling of warm relief that washed over him was more than simple healing, he felt refreshed. It was like he had slept a full night. He felt better than he had in years if he was being entirely honest.

“Here, you should no longer need this.” Ashera hooked one finger beneath his bandage and ripped it off.

When he finally did open his eyes, Ashera’s gaze was locked onto his forearm as if Hal had a coiled viper there ready to strike. Her mouth worked soundlessly and it took Hal a moment to realize what she was looking at. The mark.

“I get the feeling this a bad thing.” Hal nodded at his wrist. The golden ink glowed brighter than usual in the dim room. He looked up at Ashera, her eyes still locked onto the mark. “You gonna kill me now or something?”

Her answer was barely above a whisper. “No.” She blinked rapidly, the trance broken by her voice. It caught her by surprise and for a moment she seemed uncertain where it came from. For all the concern and warring emotions that played over her delicate features, she did not move away.

“Since I’m going to die anyway, could you tell me why everybody around here acts like-” He motioned at her, realizing he didn’t actually have an analogy at hand.

Nobody had ever, in all his twenty-four years of life, looked at him like that. “Of the people who have seen it, only two haven’t tried to kill me and I’m still not sure about Elora.”

Ashera’s hands shook as she extended them toward Hal. “May I?” she asked, never taking her eyes off the mark.

Hal shrugged. The woman took his arm gently in her hands, turning it this way and that to catch every intricate inch of the gold tattoo.

“You said Elora.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his with that piercing stare that bored into his soul. “How do you know her?”

“I met her in the woods after I was chased by some people, I think she called them the Broken - which, by the way, nobody has told me what that means either - she saw that mark too and acted a lot like you except more violent.”

“That sounds like Elora all right.” Her lips quirked into a smile and she ducked her head back down to gaze at Hal’s mark, giving him a close-up view of her horns. They vaguely reminded him of cow horns but smaller and somehow pretty.

“You know Elora?” A spark of hope caught in his chest. He didn’t know from where but suddenly things seemed to shift as he latched on to that idea. For the first time since he woke up, Hal began to entertain the notion that maybe he could get out.

Maybe she’ll be able to find me and break me out.

“Of course, she is my friend. Why would I not?” Ashera’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. “What is she mixed up in now?”

Hal opted to give her the short version of everything that happened, hoping that once she had the whole story maybe she’d find a way to help him. It was a long shot but considering his dwindling hours left alive, he might as well swing for the fences.

She stayed quiet the whole time, her sad eyes fastened to his. It was a little unnerving.

Ashera was a great listener. Probably came with all the practice of being a Keeper. “Is Elora… safe?” Hal asked.

“To the best of my knowledge, she has not been captured,” Ashera confirmed, looking more than a little relieved herself. “Nor has there been a call for her arrest or banishment.

“It is a wonder you survived the Broken at all, not to mention Elora. She is peculiar with her trust.” She looked down. “I am sorry that your hope for a rational rule was dashed so thoroughly. That is not the way of the world.”

“But it should be,” Hal countered.

“Now you sound like Elora.”

“Maybe she was onto something then. Nobody should be thrust into chains simply for being unknown or different.” He jerked his chin towards her. “Nobody should be forced into burdening their souls for the sake of a cowardly ruler. People deserve to be treated with dignity and respect!”

Her pale hands flew up and she patted the air between them. “Shh! Keep your voice down. While I am trusted, there is a guard that escorts me. If he thinks something is amiss he will not hesitate to move up your appointment with death.”

Heaving a soul-wearying sigh, Hal slumped his shoulders and nodded. The brief flash of anger drained out of him, leaving him feeling hollow. “So, what does the mark mean?”

“I do not know.”

The flash of anger was back. If nobody knew what the mark was, why were so many people trying to kill him then? He said as much to Ashera, doing his best to stifle the anger before it lifted his voice to a shout.

“Because,” she said as if talking to a child, “the only people who have such marks are the Founders. They are the only ones capable of instilling life to a Manaseed.”

Ashera raised a hand to forestall the question that hung on his lips. “A Manaseed grows into a Manatree. The beating magical heart of any Sanctum. If you are truly gifted with the same powers, then you have the ability to create a Sanctum as well. And they would have a vested interest in killing you sooner than later.”

“Why, because I’m weak?”

“That, and if you gain hold of a Manatree you will be immortal. They would have to destroy the Manatree - I am sure you have seen the large pale tree that towers over Fallwreath? That is a Manatree. I can assure you, it is no small feat to destroy a Manatree.”

That didn’t make any sense. Not only did he definitively not have magical powers but he was pretty sure that sounded like a good thing. Though, if he was being honest, getting a Manatree somehow just shot up in his list of priorities.

Right under “survive.” Being immortal sounded pretty good.

“Shouldn’t people want more Sanctums? That hardly seems worthy of being sentenced to death.”

“The Founders…” Ashera shook her head and started again. “They have a weighty burden upon their shoulders but for all the good they have done, they are selfish and cruel. Treating the people within their protection as little more than playthings to do with as they like, knowing that they cannot very well leave and survive beyond the safety of the Sanctum. I assure you, if the Sanctum Watch had seen your mark you would have been killed on the spot. Or worse.”

“What would be worse?” Hal found himself saying before he could shut his big mouth.

“I have heard tales of other Founders appearing, little more than rumor, but it seems to resurface every few years. A stumbling madman bearing the mark of the Founder is discovered and tortured for his or her dark ways.

“If they were a Founder, they would have a Sanctum already is the belief. Most of them are incomprehensible and lash out at anybody trying to help.”

“Okay, that sounds less than ideal,” Hal agreed. The truth was, without understanding the language or starting with 1 INT like he did it would be easy to fall into that very trap. He hadn’t appreciated until that moment just how much Elora had done for him. “So what are you going to do?”

Ashera’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Hal motioned to the mark. “You know what I am. Do I look mad? Am I trying to hurt you or anybody?”

The faint reek of one of the buckets smelled like spoiled vegetables. His stomach complained noisily. He could not remember the last time he ate.

That poisonous mushroom did not count.

Thinking about the mushroom made him miss the water Elora had in that leather canteen she kept on her hip.

“The merciful thing to do would be to rewrap the bandage and allow you a swift and clean death.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “Elora would… argue with that.”

Hal clung to that like a lifeline. Shoved the gnawing hunger in his middle away. “What would Elora argue?”

“She would say it was our duty to shepherd a new Founder away from the corrupted and hide him or her somewhere safe until their powers could manifest. But it would be beyond risky and there is not much I can do for you while we are both imprisoned.”

The beginnings of a plan began to fall into place. Ashera may not be able to do anything for him but Hal was certain there was something he could do for her.

6

The ivory band at Ashera’s neck was outlined with the faintest blue light. It caught Hal’s eye and he stared at it, twisting his head to get a better look.

“What are you looking at?” Ashera asked, placing a hand self-consciously to the band around her neck.

Without thinking, Hal raised his hands as far as they would go until the chain went taut toward Ashera. His fingers outstretched. She looked at him, her expression unreadable. Her pale eyes trailed down his arms to his fingers.

An understanding passed between them at that moment and the woman leaned forward far enough that they could have embraced. Instead, Hal placed his fingers on the woven ivory collar as if compelled.

The hard material came alive in an instant. It coiled tighter, choking Ashera. Hal could feel some unknown force pushing against his intrusion. Ashera’s eyes went wide with fear as the ivory band tightened further, making her gasp for breath that would not come.

Panicked, Hal pushed against the force choking her. Exerted his own will over it to loosen. The image that came to his mind was like that of boiled spaghetti, loose and limp.

A prompt rolled up into the right corner of his vision.

You have unlocked Mana Investiture.

By focusing your Mana on a given object, you are capable of investing your Mana into the object to store, dominate, destroy, or alter its composition.

MP Cost: Variable

Casting Time: Instant

Recast: Instant

Hal mentally swiped away at the notification and it disappeared.

He watched his MP plummet like a rock. Each second that ticked by saw another 2 points vanish. And with only 20 MP, he’d bottom out in seconds.

Hal bent his focus back to the task at hand. That unknown force pushed back again but weaker. Tears leaked from Ashera’s eyes but she never pulled away nor broke eye contact.

She looked at him with something disturbingly close to faith. Hal didn’t want any part of that, he didn’t understand why she trusted him. He was effectively killing her. And he didn’t even understand what he was doing enough to stop it.

Eyes squeezed shut, Hal envisioned the ivory relaxing. The distinctly foreign force pressed against his mind like a migraine. Something drained out of him. Like the wind abruptly stopped filling his sails. Even with his eyes shut he could see the red warning flash and the empty bar of MP.

Shirt.

When Hal opened his eyes, he saw that Ashera had shut hers. She looked oddly peaceful. Calm.

I wish I had your belief that I wasn’t about to strangle you to death by accident.

He had never understood the phrase “dig deep,” it had always seemed like some weird jock-speak that boiled down to “try harder.” But at that moment, when Hal was scrambling and looking inside of himself for a shred of inner strength to shore up his weakness, he understood.

Pressure built behind his eyes. Hal fought down the wave of nausea that washed over him. For a brief moment, he was sure he would fail.

He was losing ground fast and Ashera’s pale features were growing a sickly shade of purple. And still, she did not cry out, did not pull away.

More than anything, perhaps, it was that trust that made him reach inside for a solution. Any scrap at all that he could use to save this strange horned girl’s life, even if it meant ending his own.

It was oddly freeing knowing he was going to die in a few hours. It made Hal reckless in a way he had always been too scared to be.

What was the worst that could happen if he did everything in his power to save Ashera? If he freed her from the Founder’s influence but died in the process, what did it matter?

If anything it gave Hal the power to choose his own time and manner of death rather than have it forced upon him by somebody else, as had always been the case.

Just like every other thing in my dang life, he thought sourly.

It was the only real power he had left.

He reached deep within and felt the glowing coal of something long buried.

Anger.

Anger at his parents for forcing him to do things he hated. At himself for letting it happen. Even at life for its never-ending reminders of his failures. He stoked his anger and its fiery strength gave him new resolve.

You have unlocked Assimilation.

By redirecting the flow of vital energies, you are able to convert one resource (HP, MP, SP) for another at a reduced rate.

Hal hardly noticed the prompt. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, his own unburied anger that roared to life into a bonfire of seething thoughts.

Everything was so unfair. This place was no different than the one he’d grown up in. The rich and powerful controlled everything and if you didn’t play by their ridiculous rules you got nothing.

You got less than nothing.

The wealthy and connected owned you, whether you wore a collar or not. Pain threaded up and down Hal’s arms, like hot wires burning into his skin. The pressure behind his eyes grew into an agonizing migraine that kept ratcheting higher and higher with no end in sight.

It was unfair. How could anybody put a collar on such a gentle soul? Hal didn’t believe in classical evil but he knew right from wrong.

And this was not right.

That word, thought with such anger and force, broke the will of the ivory band. It shattered like glass but made only the faintest popping sound. Ashera’s shuddering gasp of air smothered the sound of the tiny ivory bits plinking to the stone floor.

They fizzled like dying flames and vanished.

Her eyes, watery and bloodshot, focused on him. They widened in alarm and it was only then that Hal realized he had pushed himself much farther than he ever would have before he found out he was going to be dead tomorrow.

A quick glance at his HUD confirmed the use of his newfound Assimilation ability. The reduced rate must be truly terrible because, for only a couple seconds of use, both his SP and his HP were drained dry. He had a single point of HP left, the bar pitifully flashing its warning at him.

Ashera lifted one shaking hand to her bare, bruised throat. She let out a strangled gasp of surprise when she felt only skin. Though the ivory band was gone, it had left a nasty mark that stood out mottled and livid against her creamy skin.

“You did it,” she whispered in awe. Her sea glass eyes found Hal’s and she choked back a sob. Ashera started and stopped a few times but only managed to get out two words, “How? Why?”

Now that it was all over, Hal slumped to the side suddenly feeling scraped and raw like a hollowed-out gourd. “Nobody deserves to be enslaved.”

“But you owe me nothing. Why would you risk death?”

Hal gave her a lazy smile. He was so very tired. “Should be pretty obvious. I was going to die anyway. What does it matter if it’s now instead of in the morning?”

Ashera scooted closer, her hands cupping Hal’s cheeks. They were strangely clammy, not warm like before but just as soft. Which if he were more alert, Hal may have found it funny how it was the temperature of her hands he found strange. And not the cow horns jutting from the sides of her head.

Her hands glowed much brighter than they had before. That same golden light spilled out and Hal felt a bracing wind swirl around him. Far from the relaxing, soothing healing she had performed before, this was something else. It made him alert. He felt like he could run a mile without getting winded.

When she let her hands fall from his face a prompt danced across his vision.

Ashera casts Bracing Cure, you recover 19 HP.

You recover 9 SP.

[Sympathy: Ashera] attained.

Hal wanted to ask what that Sympathy message was about but unlike a normal MMO which would have had a whole help section for new prompts and the like, whatever rules governed here were harder to find.

Besides, if he was going to die tomorrow it didn’t matter anyway.

“I wish I could do more for you,” she said, eyes downcast. “You have given me my freedom and yet I cannot repay the favor. As if such a thing were even possible.”

“Doesn’t matter. It was the right thing to do.” Of that, he was absolutely sure. Most things he was never sure of but the steely resolve he felt was undeniable. So what if he never got home, he’d saved somebody.

It felt pretty good.

Twin glittering trails traced their way down Ashera’s cheeks. She put a hand to her lips to still their trembling. “I’m sorry. I never even got your name. Or listened to your life’s story. I am willing, it will ease your burden. This is something I would like to do for you.”

“My name is Hal. And I think… I’m good.”

Ashera looked at him questioningly. “You do not want to unburden yourself?”

A ghost of a smile traced itself on Hal’s face. It was obvious nobody had declined before and for a moment he was tempted to cave. But he found he didn’t have much of a life to unburden.

Not much of a life at all, as a matter of fact.

When Hal didn’t say anything more Ashera nodded, reached into her strangely flexible suit of armor, and pulled out a small vial no bigger than his thumb. It was filled with the most brilliant blue liquid he’d ever seen.

“This,” Ashera said, holding it up to what little light there was. “Is… something I was saving for myself.” Her eyes darted to the side and her cheeks colored. They were beginning to go back to normal but that mark on her neck would be there for days more.

“It’s poison,” she added, handing the small glass vial to Hal. “Painless, near-instant. I may not be able to save you from your fate but I can provide you with the agency to end things on your terms. I am… sorry.”

Hal curled his fingers around the vial. It was strangely cold, like holding an ice cube that never melted. “Thank you.” He didn’t know what else to say. The icy certainty that he was going to die had seemed a far-off thing. When he was flailing about trying to save Ashera it had been something he was willing to accept.

But now? Hal wasn’t sure he could do it.

For that matter, he wasn’t entirely sure it was going to happen. Some persistent denial over the grim reality of his situation prevented him from believing his death was only hours away.

“You should go,” he said hoarsely. “I assume it’s dark out?”

Ashera nodded.

“Good. Then go while the light hides the marks of your freedom.” Hal pointed at his own neck and she raised a hand to the marks. It looked bad, even in the dim light. And she wasn’t wearing anything but that strange armor that flexed and bent but looked like plate mail. No cloth that she could use to cover up her neck.

Ashera leaned forward and planted a soft, sweet kiss on his lips. He was so stunned he didn’t have time to react other than give her a dull, shocked expression that made her smile.

Her hands came around and reaffixed the bandage to his wrist, covering the mark once more.

“The guards will not bother to search you when they take you out,” she said, standing. “I would at least wait until you see the sun.” Her eyes flicked to the hand that held the vial then back to Hal’s eyes. “The sunrise is beautiful here.”

One last sunrise. That didn’t sound so bad.

7

Ashera had left hours ago and Hal still kept thinking about that kiss like an idiot. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t a bad way to go.

He finally did something good with his life.

After twenty-odd years of flailing around, dropping out of college, and enduring his parents’ “master plan” for him, he had failed at every venture he set out to do. Ended up a loser doing part-time jobs for barely livable wages.

Here, in this strange magical realm that he still wasn’t sure was real, he had done something that mattered. He had freed somebody from a life of slavery. That had to count for something.

Hal turned the vial over in his hand, examining it in the low light. It had a tiny stopper keeping the liquid in and a dollop of green wax over it.

It would be the easiest thing in the world to break the seal with his thumbnail and pop the stopper off in one go. It would only take seconds to end his own life. On his terms. Without giving them the satisfaction of taking it from him.

Despite the appeal, he couldn’t do it. He had tried several times and it must have been close to dawn at that point but he still could not bring himself to commit the act.

The hall outside his door echoed with distant thumping once more. “Time’s up,” he muttered to himself.

Hal curled his fingers lightly around the vial, ran his thumbnail through the soft wax, and held it against the stopper. One flick, that’s all it’d take. As the door rattled and let out an ear-piercing creak when it opened, he held down the fear that battered at his resolve.

His heart pounded against his ribcage. This is it. I’m really going to die in some godforsaken place that I never heard of. I don’t even know where I am! The hulking brute of a guard came in. A large ring of keys jangling in his hand.

The sort of classic low-tier video game villain that treated his charges with casual brutality during the course of his duties. In short, not the kind of guy Hal wanted to mess with.

If Hal could see the man’s level, he bet the guard would be at least a dozen or more above him. There was no chance he could take him. And from the guard’s cruel sneer set into a deeply pitted and scarred face of patchy beard - it looked like a failed chia pet - it seemed the guard thought the same.

“Back yourself against that wall now real nice or I’m going to introduce you to Clarabell.” One meaty hand clapped the stained and battered club dangling from his belt.

Hal did as he was told and pressed his back against the wall, scooting inelegantly across the floor.

The guard had to be at least six-foot-five and weigh north of 300 pounds. Equal split muscle and fat Hal guessed by the way he spilled out of his leather outfit.

Bending down to unlock the large padlock that held Hal’s chains in place, the guard kept one jaundiced eye on Hal.

“I don’t want no trouble today,” rumbled the guard. “You get up on your feet and shuffle down the hall to your death and we’ll get along just fine, you and me. Start some trouble, and Clarabell will teach you some manners. Got me?”

Hal nodded frantically. He didn’t want to die by savage beating any more than he wanted to die by poison or whatever mechanism they had in store for him. “Just wanna see the sunrise,” he said, surprised to find his voice so calm and detached.

The guard grunted. In what might have been agreement.

Slowly, Hal got to his feet. It was an awkward and clumsy go of it but he managed not to fall over or drop the vial clutched in his right hand.

Hal’s eyes locked onto the keys as the guard fussed with putting them back onto his belt. He walked to the door and motioned with his free hand for Hal to walk through.

A plan began to unfold in Hal’s head.

New Quest: Break Free.

You have been given the opportunity - slim though it may be - to escape your untimely end. Break out of prison and taste freedom.

Objectives

- Exit the prison of your own volition.

- Additional objectives available.

Rewards

- 500 Experience Points.

- Sanctum-Fallwreath Reputation (Variable).

- Additional rewards available.

It was a long shot and in the end, he would still likely die. But having the Quest to urge him on toward freedom made all the difference. It actually felt possible. He stood up a little straighter, which was hard with the chains and manacles weighing him down.

Hal shuffled, the chains rattling the whole way. Their clanking bouncing and redoubling down the stone hallway. He made his way out of the cell and into the hall. Out of habit he poked his head out first and looked both ways.

Torches guttered low in iron sconces every ten or twenty feet. Heavy iron-belted doors marched down both sides of the hall. It was barely large enough for the guard, and there were no other guards stationed that he could see.

It was as perfect as he could hope for.

Truthfully, over the last few hours, Hal had been certain Elora would come and rescue him. He didn’t know why. Some fanciful belief that maybe he really was special. He’d taken the time to look at his newfound abilities, Assimilation and Mana Investiture but they had yielded no further information.

The reality was, nobody was coming to save him.

Ashera had given him a way out but it wasn’t the one he was going to take. Freeing her had done something to him. It made him feel proud, maybe for the first time in his life, to be himself.

Hal stumbled out into the hall, chains scraping against the rough cobbles underfoot. At least they hadn’t taken his boots off. Guess they realized I’d be dead soon, stripping me probably wasn’t a high priority. It’s not like I had any weapons.

The guard shoved him hard between the shoulders and Hal went sprawling to the ground. His HP went down a single point with the impact. “Thanks,” he said reflexively and started to push himself off the floor.

Instead, he was lifted like a doll by the guard and set on his feet. “You say something to me?” he grumbled at Hal.

“Yeah,” Hal said, tasting blood. He turned around and spat it at the guard. “I said, ‘thanks’.”

The guard stiffened, thick bulging veins popped out on a neck that Hal wasn’t entirely sure was there. “If you really wanted to meet Clarabell, you only had to ask.”

Hal’s heart beat a staccato rhythm against his ribs. He’d only have one chance. There was no faking the fear that came over him or the way his eyes bulged when the guard took his free hand and reached across his considerable bulk for the club at his side.

There.

While the guard was busy, Hal flicked off the stopper of the vial and opened his hand around it, aiming for the guard’s face.

Time seemed to slow and stumble.

The blue liquid splashed through the air, barely a thimble’s worth. It spattered against the man’s patchy cheek.

Hal dropped the vial in case anything remained to drip out onto him.

You use [Widow’s Brew].

The [Dungeon Guard Rokenson | Elite] takes 300 points of damage.

Additional Effect: Paralysis, Poison.

The guard looked up slowly but the color was already draining out of his face. His jaw slackened and the words that came out of his mouth were heavily slurred and thick like trying to talk after an injection of Novocain.

One thick, meaty arm reached out and Hal barely staggered out of the way. The guard fell face-first into the cobbles below, a loud crunch telling Hal he probably broke his nose on the way down.

Ashera had said the poison was instant,. That hadn’t seemed instant at all, though it did look pretty painless. The guard had seemed more confused than anything.

The guard groaned and one arm twitched towards Hal. Hal backpedaled as best he could but the guard was slowly dragging his bulk down the hall toward him.

It was then that Hal realized his mistake. His mind reeled back to basic physiology. It was the same reason a really big guy could drink beer after beer without getting drunk. The guard’s size meant he had needed a much larger dose of poison.

Something Hal didn’t have.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Hal hobbled over to the guard. Luckily, the poison’s paralysis was setting in, stilling the man’s movements.

Hal only felt a little bad about stepping onto the man’s back. He knelt on the man’s shoulder blades, then and dragged the length of chain between his wrists up under the guard’s chin and around his neck.

“You didn’t really give me much choice,” he leaned down and whispered to the man.

With a muttered prayer, Hal crossed the chains behind the man’s neck and pulled as hard as he could. The guard gasped and gurgled. It wasn’t the way Hal would have liked to escape from a dungeon.

You choke [Dungeon Guard Rokenson | Elite].

Additional Effect: Suffocation.

[Dungeon Guard Rokenson | Elite] suffers 50 points of damage (Suffocation).

[Dungeon Guard Rokenson | Elite] suffers 70 points of damage (Suffocation).

[Dungeon Guard Rokenson | Elite] suffers 90 points of damage (Suffocation).

The way it should have gone down was that he had managed to get the drop on a guard, stole a sword, and with some fancy maneuvers managed to slay the guards one by one until he made his brilliant escape.

The reality of choking a poisoned guard to death because the poison was meant for somebody a third the man’s size and hadn’t quite been able to do the trick was far darker.

Hal strained with all his pitiful might. and After what felt like minutes the guard went slack and heavy beneath him.

Hal had been briefly concerned that he was faking it but when the prompt flashed across his vision, he knew the guard was dead.

You defeat [Dungeon Guard Rokenson | Elite].

You gain 1,080 Experience Points.

Novice reaches Level 2.

Novice reaches Level 3.

You have 10 unspent Attribute Points awaiting distribution.

Your HP, SP, and MP are fully restored.

You have unlocked Improvised Weaponry Skill (Level 0).

Realizing that anything can be a weapon if you put your mind to it, you’ve taken the first step toward the ultimate goal of beating your enemy with the body of another enemy. Unlocks the Improvised Crafting trait.

You have unlocked the Improvised Crafting trait.

Improvised Crafting allows you to outfit any item with atypical ingredients, gaining the ability to swap out one ingredient for a similar type, resulting in a different finished product.

Your Improvised Weaponry Skill has risen to Level 1.

+2% Improvised weapon damage (2%).

+2% Improvised weapon attack speed (2%).

Brilliant golden light flashed in the air, the sound of shimmering stardust echoed in his ears. It took him a moment to realize it wasn’t some alarm - it was far too pleasant for that - but the Level Up notification.

He suddenly felt like he could have fought the guard hand-to-hand and come out on top. It was a rushing thrill that surged through him, reinvigorating mind and body.

His hunger and thirst evaporated along with every other hurt he had acquired. His cracked lips, bleeding wrists, and aching belly were distant memories.

Breathing hard, Hal rolled off the guard and fished around for the keys. Once he found them, he unlocked the manacles.

Looking both ways down the hallway, Hal quickly set about using his 10 points. He already knew his first goal should be getting his stats to a baseline of 5, so he continued with that. 3 points were placed into STR, 4 in AGI, and the remaining 3 into DEX.

He remembered how many times he nearly fell on the rooftops and was not keen on a repeat performance. Not with his freedom at stake. As he filled out his stats, his body became sturdier and healthier with solid muscle tone. The kind that he didn’t even have back on Earth.

The chains that weighed so heavily on him were as light as a feather now. After picking them off the ground to test out his new strength, he decided to keep them.

His increases to AGI and DEX were a bit harder to discern. He definitely felt his stores of Stamina deepen and the way he moved felt fluid and graceful. Not at all like his usual shambling gait.

Pulling up his stats, Hal started at the large increase 4 points of AGI gave his SP and regeneration rates.

[Status]

Hal Williams

Level: 3

Next Level: 300/760

Classes

Novice: 3

Resources

HP: 40/40

SP: 60/60

MP: 40/40

Attributes

STR: 5

VIT: 1

DEX: 4

AGI: 5

INT: 5

MND: 1

CHR: 1

Regeneration

HP/hr: 8.2

SP/hr: 12.3

MP/hr: 8.5

Resistances

Fire: 0

Ice: 0

Wind: 0

Earth: 0

Lightning: 0

Water: 0

Light: 0

Dark: 0

Defensive Properties

DEF: 0

MDEF: 0

Insulation: 4

Class Affinity

Thief: 15%

Survival Skills

Perception: 1

Combat Skills

Improvised Weaponry: 1

Magic Skills

Crafting Skills

Social Skills

Persuasion: 1

His wrists were scabbed with dried blood where the metal had cut into them. When he rubbed at his wrists the blood flaked off, revealing no further trace of the damage. Hal found himself oddly attached to the chains.

Worst case scenario if I don’t run into anybody down here, I can at least partially defend myself.

They had a considerable length to them, so he doubled them up and grabbed the chains just below both manacles and held them at his side. Something that would have been impossible with just one hand before.

You obtain [Iron Manacles].

A few test swings showed him how massive of an improvement those 3 points of STR were. The motion was surprisingly effortless.

I could get used to having a gym body without ever stepping foot inside one, Hal thought with a wry grin despite his dire situation.

Taking “Clarabell” had never been an option. Aside from the splatters of dried blood, the club was somehow more unwieldy than the chains. While it would have been a single-handed club for the guard, Hal needed both hands even with his increased STR.

And he had never been a fan of two-handed weapons. There was so much lost utility.

“H-Hello?” rasped a voice from the cell to his right, pulling him from his thoughts. All the doors were heavy and strapped with rusting iron without any bars or windows. But there was no way anybody would have missed the ruckus Hal had just kicked up.

Hal went to the door, chains hefted in one hand, the ring of keys in the other. “What’re you in for?” he tried to ask gruffly but his voice cracked a little, spoiling the effect he was going for.

I guess not everybody can pull off Batman's voice.

“I’m a political prisoner. I dared to question the Founder’s wisdom in banning all people who had not grown up in Sanctum-Fallwreath.”

It was highly unlikely that he’d be able to get out on his own and every minute he wasn’t marched out the front door to whatever execution they had set up for him was time for them to grow suspicious and come looking for him.

Or worse, lock down the city and prevent him from escaping. That was going to be hard enough with the size and scope of the place. His only hope was that a single no-name prisoner wouldn’t be worth the effort.

So long as nobody saw his mark, he thought he had a decent shot.

While he needed the distraction and manpower a prison escape might provide, he didn’t have the time to vet each and every prisoner. Who knew how many people were down here?

“I’m going to free you,” Hal said, unlocking the door and shouldering it open. The reek of human sweat and filth nearly knocked him over. He pulled the keys out of the door and cast around in the dark until he saw the figure.

Light spilled out of the door behind him and silhouetted Hal as an ethereal luminous figure. The man crawled forward on hands and knees. “What manner of savior are you?” He placed a hand up to shield his eyes from the intensity of the light.

Hal remembered that pain well. He slid his forearm through the large key ring and offered his free hand to the man, hauling him to his feet. “No savior, just a man. Let’s get you out of here, friend.”

8

Most of the people Hal freed weren’t even chained up. They marched through the lower levels of the dungeons without challenge, arming themselves with a variety of makeshift weapons from table legs and torches to bent and rusted blades found gathering dust in the corner of the strangely empty guardrooms.

All but one.

Somehow, Hal found himself at their head despite his plans to slip out in the exact opposite direction. So when they rounded on what Hal thought to be another empty guard station, everybody was surprised to find it manned.

Though Hal doubted anybody was more surprised than the guard.

Reflexes pulled the guard to his feet, some semblance of long-ago training. He pulled out a falchion from the sheath on his hip but it appeared that was where his training had ceased.

The guard stood there, staring drunkenly at Hal and then at his own sword as if surprised to find it in his hand. Nobody moved.

Without a sword of his own Hal made the only play he had. He took two quick steps forward, enough to let the chamber flood with prisoners and he whipped out with his chain. It swung through the air and wrapped around the blade just above the hilt.

The only person more surprised than the guard was Hal who had been aiming for the man’s head, not his arm.

Wasting no time to press his advantage, Hal yanked with all his might and pulled the sword free from the man. He was swarmed before Hal ever managed to untangle the chain from the blade.

For a brief moment, Hal wondered if he should stop them from killing the man. But that option was quickly taken away from him by the prompt that flitted across his vision.

You defeat the [Dungeon Guard].

You gain 225 Experience Points.

You obtain a [Deserter’s Falchion].

The falchion simply appeared in his free hand as if it had always been there. It startled him at first and he looked at it distrustfully. Okay, that’s new. If I’m operating on the notion that this world operates on video game logic, then shouldn’t it have gone into my inventory?

Thinking the word brought up a shimmering gray glass screen. Nobody else in the room reacted to it, so Hal assumed he was the only one who could see it. Good thing too, he wouldn’t want somebody peeping on all the items he had if he was in a busy city.

[Inventory]

0/0

Well, that explains it. I have no inventory room. At least I can hold things or stuff them in my pockets if they’ll fit.

He shook his head and left that puzzle for another time. Maybe he needed a pouch or something from this world. It was as good a hypothesis as any.

Hal had the passing notion to shed the heavy chain in favor of the surprisingly sturdy falchion. Even though it felt awkward in his hand compared to the chains, he always had the fantasy of being an expert sword-wielder like most kids his age.

The only difference was, Hal had never fully grown out of it.

A quick glance at the sword allowed him to examine his current loadout.

[Equipment]

Deserter’s Falchion

[Sword] (Uncommon)

Item Level: 3

DMG: 4

AGI +1

DUR: 87/100

Lv.2 All Classes

Manacle Chains

[Improvised] (Common)

Item Level: 1

DMG: 2

DUR: 171/220

Lv.1 All Classes

Simple Cloak

[Cloak] (Common)

Item Level: 1

DEF: 0

Insulation +4

DUR: 22/45

Lv.0 All Classes

Interesting.

Holding the falchion, Hal felt a little quicker on his feet. The extra point made AGI his highest stat, at 6 points.

Whether they wanted to admit it or not, everybody yearned to be able to quantify themselves in such a way. To sum up their stats and see how they grew.

It was everything Hal ever wanted and he had to remind himself that he was a single wrong turn from death to wipe the stupid grin that spread across his face.

The dungeons, it turned out, were far larger than he had first thought. Four levels of cells packed with all sorts of people. It didn’t matter their crime, so long as they sowed enough chaos for him to get out. The only prisoners he hadn’t freed were those that had tried to kill him as soon as he made his offer.

And the obviously insane ones. Not that there were many of them.

With a pep in his step from the [Deserter’s Falchion], Hal found himself moving briskly through the levels of the dungeon on his way to freedom.

With dozens of angry, crudely armed prisoners at his back, Hal burst out of the dungeon into an inner courtyard. The collective roar of mistreatment and directed anger was swallowed by the gonging of alarm bells. Distant explosions rocked the smoke-filled courtyard.

Guards were screaming, moving about like ghosts amid the shroud of smoke and debris. Now he understood why the guardrooms below were so empty. Something up above was drawing all their attention.

Hal turned away from the carnage as the majority of the prisoners took to looting the dead guardsmen nearby. Properly armed, they disappeared into the chaos of the smoke to join the fight.

It was time to make his escape.

While the bloodlust had taken its hold on the group, Hal snuck off to the side and found a door to slip through.

But he wasn’t alone. The first man he had rescued followed him, a bright and odd expression on his face whenever he looked at Hal.

Sword and chains in hands, Hal and the nameless prisoner walked right into the mess hall for the guardsmen. Luckily, the hall was empty except for a lone young man wearing a simple tunic. He was mopping up a spill just as Hal and the other prisoner approached.

Before Hal could say anything, the other man brandished a rusted sword and roughly grabbed the young guardsman. Placing the blunted blade to the guardsman’s throat, he looked at Hal with a wild and crazy light in his eyes.

“We can take him hostage,” he said. “He’s a trainee by the looks of it. They won’t want his blood on their hands. It’d hurt their recruitment numbers.” His pale lilac eyes flashed to the chaos of the courtyard outside. “And I’m expecting they’re going to need quite a few new men.”

“Please, no! I’m just a recruit, I ain’t one of them. If you just go out that way.” The trainee tried to point at one of the many doors that exited the room but the prisoner wouldn’t release him enough to move his arm freely. “The way out’s that way. I-I won’t tell a soul.”

The prisoner looked to Hal for some sign. “Your call, but a hostage could be mighty useful.”

Hal was shaking his head and would have put his weapon away if he had anywhere to stow it. “No,” he said with finality. “I’m sure this young man wants nothing but to clean up the floor and be rid of us. He looks to have a good head on his shoulders. I expect he knows he’ll be able to keep it there if he stays quiet.”

“Yessir,” the trainee squeaked.

With a shrug, the prisoner released him. “Show us the way out then.” He followed the trainee’s progress, shadowing his every step. “Count yourself lucky,” he said to the young man as he stepped up to the door indicated. “If it were up to me, I would have slit your throat and saved myself the headache of wondering if you still had some honor left.”

To Hal, the trainee said, “Follow this hall straight and take the first left you can. That’ll take you to the street. I-I won’t tell anybody I saw anything. On my word.”

Hal and the prisoner made their way deeper into the castle, navigating the straight corridor and sprinting past startled servants. Paintings of the same man kept popping up framed in gold. A little gray at the temples of his black hair but otherwise a handsome man with kind brown eyes.

Hardly the sort of person who would order Hal’s death just because he wasn’t known.

Something in the back of his mind recognized the man but he couldn’t pinpoint where or how. He was just… familiar. Like seeing an old classmate he wasn’t particularly close to after a decade or two.

The recognition was faint but it was there. He filed that away for another day when he wasn’t running for his life. So far, there had been few days where he wasn’t.

Running along the hall side-by-side with the prisoner, they pulled up short at the next intersection. The sound of voices down the left hall gave them both pause.

The prisoner crouched down low to the stone floor and peeked around. He pulled back and stood in front of Hal, lowering his voice to say, “A group of heavily armored guards. There’s no way we’ll get past them but they aren’t looking this way, we could probably dart by.”

With a little help from his [Deserter’s Falchion], Hal sprinted across the intersection with ease. His footfalls thankfully masked by the padded burgundy carpet that ran down the center of the hall.

Before the pair could turn down the next hall, they heard more heavy footfalls of armored feet.

Hal looked around, found a promising door in the hall, and bolted into it, dragging the prisoner along with him. The room turned out to be a small storage area with dusty crates and cobwebbed furniture.

Together, with the prisoner, Hal went to the back of the room and hid behind a pile of chairs draped in white canvas until the sound of marching vanished into a distant part of the castle.

Hiding side by side for so long gave the two some time to talk in hushed voices and explore the dim room.

“My name’s Altres,” said the prisoner, offering his hand to Hal.

“Mine is Hal,” he replied, taking his hand and shaking it. “You sure you want to follow me?”

“Figure somebody going through all this effort to get out is probably more likely to get out than those bloodthirsty idiots,” Altres said with a shrug of his slender shoulders.

Hal suddenly felt more than a little guilty at how quickly he abandoned the men and women he freed.

Altres’ sharp eyes picked up the flicker of emotion and he reached out to put a hand on Hal’s shoulder. “You did more than enough for that lot. They could have followed you as I did. Yet they chose not to. Their fate is not yours to control.”

Hal nodded, letting it go at that. They had more pressing concerns besides, like finding a way out.

After an exhaustive search, something caught Hal’s eye beneath a crate off in the far corner. A small hatch, almost entirely concealed.

You have unlocked Investigation (Level 0).

By analyzing your surroundings and using inductive reasoning, you are able to piece together evidence into a plausible conclusion, locate hidden items, traps, and make connections others would miss. Heavily influenced by INT.

Your Investigation has risen to Level 1.

+1% Investigation speed (+1%).

+2% Investigation success (+2%).

It took the better part of ten minutes for Altres and Hal to move everything aside and open the trap door. Every few minutes voices would echo in the hallway and they would have to pause to wait for them to pass.

A ladder descended down about a dozen feet before it hit a dusty floor. Hal took it immediately, closing the trapdoor as he went. As soon as his feet hit the floor torchlight appeared in the distance. One by one the torches on the wall of the narrow passage sparked to life from some unseen magic and lit the way for the pair.

Hal took the tunnel at a steady jog, mindful of his pitifully low Stamina until he made it to another ladder. He could only imagine how much harder it would have been if he hadn’t put those points into AGI already.

Altres easily paced him the entire way and when Hal stopped to wheeze and catch his breath, he stood beside him. Hal climbed the ladder expecting another trap door but it emptied out onto a short walkway with a door at the end.

“Please be unlocked,” he whispered. He had left the ring of keys with another prisoner so they could free more people, never thinking they would be useful outside of the dungeon.

Hal tried to open the door and found that it wouldn’t budge.

“Locked?” Altres asked, his lilac eyes dancing with mirth. “All this way to be defeated by a simple door. Quite ironic. If you had a set of tools I could get this open but… alas.”

The locking mechanism seemed simple enough. The keyhole was large enough that he could stick his pinky through. Placing his hand on the metal plate surrounding the lock, he shut his eyes and focused.

“What’re you-”

“Shh,” Hal hissed. “I need to concentrate.”

Remembering how it felt to mold the ivory band on Ashera’s neck, Hal tried the same thing on the lock. With more mana at his disposal, he hoped it wouldn’t kill him.

To his surprise, the metal shaped and molded with surprising ease. There was only the slightest resistance as it tried to resume the shape it once was but it was nothing like the migraine-inducing struggle against the ivory band.

There was a soft metallic scraping as Hal opened the door, the deadbolt cleanly cut through and still half-embedded in the door jamb.

Your Mana Investiture has risen to Tier II.

+5% Mana Investiture speed (+5%).

Altres looked at him, then at the door. “It would seem I hitched my karak to the right cart.”

“I don’t follow,” Hal said.

“Just an expression. Lead on, my friend.”

The door opened into a dank cave, the smell of rot, water, and damp earth filled his nose. Against his better judgment, Hal left the torches where they burned. He could barely see in the dark but if somebody was after them, a torch would lead them straight to the pair.

Altres shut the door behind him and they crept through the dark cave. Hal could hardly see his own hand waving in front of his face.

Altres’ gently grasped Hal’s wrist and without a word began to guide him forward. The sound of running water echoed off the rough stony wall that Hal ran his hand across to steady himself.

They wandered through the twisting darkness for a while. Hal felt the presence of something else in the dark with them. From the way Altres’ grip tightened, Hal knew he felt it too. He was so keyed up that even the simple text notification nearly gave him a heart attack.

You have unlocked Darkvision (Level 0).

Through time spent in the dark, lightless depths, you have adapted your sight to be able to peel back the veil of darkness.

You have unlocked Stealth (Level 0).

Slow, measured movements and a preference for shadowy nooks have helped you take the first steps along the path of a true sneak. By moving with purpose and focusing on staying out of sight you can dramatically reduce the ability for others to detect your presence. Sneaking reduces your speed and drains Stamina.

Your Stealth has risen to Level 1.

+1% Stealth success (+1%).

+1% Stealth speed (+1%).

-1% SP drain (-1%).

Altres led them out, somehow avoiding whatever was in the dark with them. A thick line of tangled brush greeted them with the remains of the watery morning daylight.

Looking at the dark cavern behind, a trickling stream emptied out and to their right. The cave was set in a high wall of rock beneath the tall Sanctum walls above them and hidden by thick underbrush ahead.

Together, they parted the green border of leaves and left the dark cavern a world behind. The going was slow and filled with vines, brambles, and tangles that pulled at their dirty clothing every inch of the way.

Hal sighed in relief as they spilled out into a small clearing at the edge of a large forest, glad to be out of the tangling undergrowth. His surprise was complete when he looked up and realized that they had just crossed paths with half a dozen patrolling Sanctum guards.

As soon as the snapping of branches echoed in the clearing, the guards turned to them as one unit. The rasp of steel being drawn from their scabbards filled the green space.

It was a bitter twist of irony that he managed to escape the dungeon, the castle, and the Sanctum as a whole but still failed to get away.

Hal’s fingers tightened on the falchion in his hand. The chain fell free from the folds in his cloak he had been using to keep it silenced in the cave.

He had no idea how to use the things together, but he was going to try.

“I don’t plan on going back to a cell,” Hal said to Altres at his side, surprised at how even his voice was.

The lilac-eyed man drew his rusted and bent blade beside him. “I’m with you.”

Hal stood a little straighter. “Let’s get this over with.”

A man with a white sash across his green armor smiled thinly at him, obviously overhearing Hal. The leader, he guessed. “Good. Because I have no intention of putting any more of you back in your cages. You die here.”

9

Hal raised his falchion high with one hand and tightened his grip on the chains with the other. He wasn’t going to go down without a fight. With any luck, he’d take at least one of them to the grave with him.

The leader raised his gleaming sword in answer, ready to give the order for the guards to attack when he suddenly jerked in place.

His arm fell slack, followed shortly by the rest of his body, revealing half a dozen arrows that had sprouted from his back.

From the tree line behind the guards another volley arced through the air, cutting the Sanctum guards down before they had the time to realize what had happened.

Hal stood there, rooted to the spot. Running wouldn’t matter. Not from archer’s that could do that. A quick glance at the ground showed not a single stray arrow.

Instead, Hal lowered his falchion point-first into the grass and rested his hand atop the plain pommel. If they were going to kill him, they’d have done it already.

At his side, Altres followed suit by tossing his battered weapon to the grass. His lilac eyes were already set on the lead guard’s fine sword.

A grin lit up Hal’s face as he recognized the shapely figure in hunting leathers that stalked out of the forest and into the clearing of dead bodies. She said nothing to Hal as she examined the bodies, making sure they were truly dead.

One of the guards twitched. Elora straddled his fallen form, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and took out a wicked hunting knife that was closer to a shortsword. She slit his throat from ear to ear in one smooth, emotionless motion.

He gurgled a moment, then went silent. Hal felt a stab of sympathy that he quickly tamped down. That man would have gleefully gutted him just a moment ago.

“Friends of yours?” Altres whispered.

“Hopefully,” Hal replied.

Having found the rest of the guards quite dead, Elora stuck two fingers into her mouth and let out a shrill blast of a whistle. Three long notes, and one short.

Ten hunters, all with similar outfits to Elora stepped out, bows unslung but held casually in their clearly capable hands. Hal looked at them with a little bit of longing.

He was reminded of the Skyrim joke, no matter what you start as you always ended up as a stealth archer. It was just too good, too alluring. From seeing their efficacy firsthand, he could feel that familiar call to be a sneaky, subtle Thief.

As far as he still knew, it was the only Class he had gained any affinity with.

Hal was about to say something when the hunters at Elora’s back stepped aside and Ashera walked into the clearing. Her eyes glanced at the hunters, Elora, the bodies, and finally, they settled on Hal with a look of obvious relief.

The same look mirrored on Elora’s face.

She hurried towards Hal. “I’m so glad we got here in time! Are you hurt? How did you get out? We were coming to rescue you!” Ashera was breathless by the time she put her arms around Hal and crushed him against her.

Elora cleared her throat.

“Oh don’t be so glum, Elora!” Ashera let go of Hal and nudged the woman. “You were so worried about him you wouldn’t sit still for even a few Rangers to answer the call.” Ashera turned back to Hal. “News has already spread that there’s a massive riot from the prison, was that you?”

Hal rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “Yeah, kinda.”

“A few Rangers snuck in to the prison grounds and were trying to set a diversion,” Elora explained. “But by the time the guards were scrambling about enough that we could slip in to find you, we heard about the riot and thought it better to lend our support to maximize the chaos. Angram said he saw you run into the castle with your friend there.”

With a nod, Hal motioned to Altres. “This is Altres, we broke out together.”

The lean man extended his hand to Elora, who merely looked at it. Without missing a beat, he pivoted to offer it to Ashera, who shook it with a smile. “Altres… the songwriter?” she asked, recognition dawning on her fair features.

Sweeping into an elegant bow fit for a courtroom, Altres said, “One and the same. I take it you have heard of me?”

“Only that your works were banned for inciting treasonous activities against the Founder,” Ashera said with a smirk. “I thought you were run out of Sanctum-Fallwreath?”

“Yes,” Altres said, a grimace twisting his handsome features despite the dirt and grime. “It would seem that was the plan. I was thrown in a dungeon and without dear Hal here, I would have likely wasted away without any of my legions of dying fans knowing any better!” He struck a dramatic pose, flinging a forearm over his face.

Elora quirked a brow at him. She looked to Hal questioningly.

“I trust him,” Hal said, answering the unspoken question.

“Good enough for me,” Elora said. “We leave immediately, there will be more guards coming.”

“I always thought there was a secret way into the castle,” Ashera said. “I had seen some of the Founder’s personal guards simply disappear and come back without ever seeing them enter the main hall.”

Elora made a motion with her hand and the Rangers came forward, dragging each of the bodies away into the trees. When she caught Hal watching, she smirked. “Nobody will find them and the Rangers will add their armaments to the stockpile.”

“What stockpile?” Hal asked.

“You’ll see,” Ashera said with a grin.

“Might I procure that measly little trinket the talkative one had?” Altres said, downplaying the hunger in his lilac eyes. “I have some small skill with the more refined blades such as that.”

Elora looked at it, then at him. “We’ll find you something suitable.”

“Oh very well,” Altres said with a dramatic sigh. He flung his forearm over his eyes. “I suppose my bent and battered sword is more fitting for a disgraced Bard. Woe is me!”

When nobody said anything in reply, he peeked out from under his arm. Only then did he notice that nobody but Hal was paying him any attention. He met Hal’s grin with a look that said “what can you do?” and shook his head.

“Now that we’re out of the Sanctum, there’s a lot to tell you but we need to get out of here and find somewhere safe,” Ashera said.

Elora looked to the sky. It was leaden gray and overcast. “I think we’ll be safe from any Manastorms tonight, we’re still quite close to the Sanctum. Let’s go.”

Hal looked up with her. To him, it looked like it was about to rain in the next minute but he kept his mouth shut and followed behind her.

* * *

Elora and Ashera flanked Hal through the darkness of the forest, as much to talk to him as to make sure he didn’t fall and break his neck. It was a real concern since he seemed to be the only person with poor Darkvision.

Up ahead, Altres was introducing himself to the various Rangers that flitted in and out of the dark green maze that spread before them. Every time Hal looked up, Altres was talking to a different leather-clad man or woman.

It didn’t take long for another prompt to materialize.

Your Darkvision has risen to Level 1.

+2% Visual range in dim light (+2%).

+1% Visual range in no light (+1%).

Roots and coiled vines materialized in shades of gray against a velvety black backdrop of deep forest gloom. It was still pathetically short, hardly more than a few feet but he had to admit it was still a large improvement.

“You realize how crazy that sounds, right?” Hal asked. It hadn’t been the first time he’d said that and it would certainly not be the last.

“Look at what you’ve done when you were pressed into a corner,” Ashera pointed out. “You caused a riot, broke out of an impenetrable fortress, and fled a Sanctum under lockdown. Like it or not, people are going to start following you whether you want them to or not. Wouldn’t you rather have a place that was warm and safe for them?”

It was a constant refrain from her the last couple of hours.

Where was the meek, quiet girl that had visited him in his cell? She was nearly as bad as Elora with all her talk about Hal’s duty to the people.

This wasn’t his home, and these people were not his. He wasn’t in Seattle with air conditioning, electricity, and all the modern conveniences he had grown used to.

He wanted a return to normalcy. Hal wanted to go home.

Unfortunately, both Elora and Ashera seemed to selectively ignore his desires to return home and instead bulled ahead with a ridiculous plan to prop him up as some sort of figurehead.

Something he wanted no part in. Not that they listened to his objections. Though the not dying part of being a Founder with a Manatree did have a nice ring to it.

After hours of stumbling about in the dark, Elora called for a break. Hal couldn’t tell how far they’d walked but the trees had grown oppressively close and every ten feet they had to swerve around one trunk or another.

At least Hal did. Everybody else walked as easily as if they were strolling down the street. For Hal, everything reared up out of the dark suddenly. Without Ashera and Elora guiding him, he would have walked right into every tree for the last mile.

The ground was littered with thick stony cables of roots that tried to trip him with every step. “We’ll break here for the night,” Elora said. She pointed to something beyond his Darkvision - Rangers probably. “Yesel and Eindor, take first watch. Myla, help me set up camp.”

Hal sat down on a particularly large root away from the group. He finally went through the impressive backlog of notifications since he had been given no task and didn’t have the first idea how to help.

So he did what came naturally to him. He stayed out of everybody’s way and reviewed the notifications he received so far.

It was amazing that such a thing existed. Such a wealth of information at his fingertips.

Hal looked over his stats, wondering how long it would take him to get them all up to 5. Having a firm foundation, at least enough to equal a normal functioning adult, was his first priority.

He definitely did not want to sound like the village idiot ever again. Just remembering the way he struggled with the most simplistic of sentence structures made him cringe.

Good thing that was before I met anybody that I’m with now. Elora doesn’t count, she couldn’t understand me when I talked like an idiot at her. My conversation with Ashera would have had a lot less impact if I instead said, “Cow girl sad why?” Or worse, “Moo!”

Another shudder crawled up his spine. At least he could do something about it. How many years of speech therapy would it take to overcome that back home?

He was, by his own estimation, already stronger and more dexterous than he was before coming to this place.

When playing MMORPGs, he used to scrutinize every little decision he made. Every point spent was planned out ahead of time.

Faced with the reality of being that character, Hal had no idea what he wanted to do.

He had barely gotten a taste for combat and the very real threat of death stopped it from being a carefree romp murdering weak little rats or whatever low-level monsters most gamers cut their teeth on.

And for once, Hal didn’t delight in the idea of being a full-blown murderhobo.

Being a Fighter or Paladin of some kind had always appealed to Hal but he had no idea how the mechanics worked in this world.

What if he pumped VIT to get a huge pool of HP, only to realize armor would be far more effective and he should have balanced himself out more?

It was easy when he could reload a previous save and alter his stat points or when everybody worked together on the forums and-

“What’re you doing all by yourself?” Ashera asked, interrupting his thoughts and sitting down next to him. She gave him a shy smile. Her interruption came at the most opportune moment.

He had always used guilds, friends, forums, discussion chats, and in-game theory crafting to get detailed information for obscure game mechanics.

Why was he suddenly doing away with that and taking this “game” at face value? There were several people he could ask about stats and how things worked right in front of him.

The truth was, he thought of them a bit like NPCs sometimes and he had no idea if that was the right way of things or not. Was he just another player or were they somehow lesser?

Let’s unpack that tangled knot of morality another time, shall we?

“This might be a stupid question, but do you… understand the stats?” he asked.

There was no telling how Ashera might react. The world might not treat everybody equally. Maybe it was only Hal, as an outsider, that had stats and the game-like interface. If she had no idea what he was talking about, he’d let it go before he started to sound insane.

I’d definitely avoid some guy who sat down next to me on a bus bench and started rambling about his strength and dexterity scores.

Ashera watched him a moment before answering. “Everybody does,” she confirmed. Hal breathed a sigh of relief. “Do you not have them where you come from?”

He shook his head. “Not really, no. Most people walk around without ever being able to quantify their fitness or their intelligence. Whole business empires are built on the faint capacity to judge and rank people in a way that is discernible. Everybody kind of wants what you guys have here, even if they won’t admit it.”

Ashera’s brow crumpled. “How horribly sad.”

“Tell me about it.”

10

He was finally getting somewhere productive. “Ashera, could you give me a real brief run-down on the main attributes? I think I have a grasp on everything but I want to be sure.”

The prompt had been clear and succinct but it wouldn’t hurt to have a second opinion from a local.

Ashera folded her hands in her lap and turned to face Hal. Her horns caught a tiny glimmer of moonlight as she moved her head. “It would be my pleasure. The primary Attributes are all paired up together in a collection of opposites, with the exception being Charisma. Strength is your physical prowess, while Vitality governs your HP and physical hardiness.

“Dexterity is the control you have over refined motor skills like juggling, moving quietly, that sort of thing, and Agility is your ability to run, jump and stay nimble on your feet as well as increase your Stamina. And finally, we have Intelligence which governs your mental faculties - up to a point, mind you - as well as magical power. Mind meanwhile, governs magical defense and your MP.”

“What do you mean, ‘up to a point’?”

Ashera tapped her chin with an index finger in thought. “You started with no stats when you arrived, yes?”

Hal nodded.

“Did you try speaking to anybody?”

“Unfortunately.”

“My guess is that the System - that is the general catch-all for the prompts and messages we receive, the governing force of our world - was enforcing your Intelligence score of one. I have seen it before, people under powerful spells that reduce a stat down to single digits. It is not a pretty sight.”

Hal blew out a long, gusty sigh. “I’ll say.”

“While it is true that raising Intelligence will help you to communicate your thoughts and ideas better, it will not make you a genius if you put a hundred points into it,” Ashera said.

“That is what I meant. Nobody knows precisely the upper limits, but each person has their own innate intellect. Raising your Intelligence until it matches it is the best any of us can do. Raising it beyond will still have valuable effects if you wish to be a mage of some sort but it does not make you ‘smarter’, does that make sense?”

Hal nodded and then asked, “And what’s Charisma do?” So far, everything was par for the course with only minimal alterations. He instantly marked VIT, AGI, and MND as important for their ability to increase his resource pools.

“That influences most of your interactions with people, how likely people will respond positively to you, or how well you get your point across convincingly.” There was no judgment in Ashera’s tone. She wanted to help.

It was a refreshing change.

Half the time when talking to other players he’d get snarky comments about how he should already know this or that. Other times they’d argue about the importance of this or that stat no matter if they were right or wrong.

It was nice to finally be able to have a helpful conversation without having to deal with all the extra baggage.

“I appreciate it,” Hal said. “Thank you. And, thanks again for the vial. You saved my life.”

Hal couldn’t be sure in the darkness but he thought Ashera blushed. Everything was washed in shades of gray but her cheeks darkened ever-so-slightly. “I am… pleased that you did not use it for the intended purpose. I must say, I never thought to use it in the way you did.”

As if talking about it reminded the System, another prompt flashed across his vision. Before Hal even read it, he suddenly felt full of energy and restored. A gold wind whipped about the camp, turning heads toward not only Hal but Altres as well. A similar swirling gold wind wrapped the young man who was turning ruby red.

Hal turned his attention back to the prompt.

Quest Complete: Break Free.

Against all odds, you managed to break out of prison. You even saved several people who were wrongly convicted, started a riot to hide your escape and buy yourself time, and mercifully spared an innocent young man’s life.

Objectives

- Exit the prison of your own volition (Complete).

- Additional objectives available.

- Raise Improvised Weaponry by 1 Level (Complete).

- Start a riot (Complete).

- Rescue at least 1 prisoner wrongly convicted (Complete).

- Help others to escape (Complete).

- Kill only those who are a threat (Complete).

Rewards

- 500 Experience Points.

- Sanctum-Fallwreath Reputation (Variable).

- Additional rewards available.

- Leadership Unlocked.

- +2 Leadership.

- Spell: Enchainment.

- Founder Rebels Reputation (Variable).

Novice reaches Level 4.

You have 5 unspent Attribute Points awaiting distribution.

Your HP, SP, and MP are fully restored.

You have unlocked Leadership (Level 0).

Some are born to follow, others to lead. Whether intentionally or not, you have shown ambition and a willingness to direct people and walk alongside them toward a shared goal.

Your Leadership has risen to Level 2.

+1% Party damage (+2%).

+2% Leadership efficacy (+4%).

Sanctum-Fallwreath Reputation: -6,000 (Wanted Criminal).

You are now considered a fugitive from justice and will be hunted as such. Any official from Sanctum-Fallwreath will attempt to detain or kill you upon sight.

Founder Rebels Reputation: +4,000 (Friendly).

There exists an underground movement against the corrupt efforts of the current Founder. By freeing those wrongly imprisoned and sowing chaos in the Founder’s backyard, you have gained a considerable amount of reputation with the Founder Rebels.

They will treat you as a friend, fight alongside you should you get attacked, and attempt to assist you if you are in need.

You have learned Enchainment.

School: Enfeebling

MP: 23

Range: 10ft Radius

Binds target(s) with spectral chains, rooting them to the spot. Any damage inflicted upon them once bound breaks the chains. Must be touching the same surface as the creature(s).

You have unlocked Enfeebling Magic (Level 0).

When defeating your enemies isn’t enough, Enfeebling Magic is there to cut the strongest enemies down to size and to make the weak grovel in fear. Enfeebling focuses on crippling opponents in as many ways as there are seconds in a day.

That was a lot.

Hal reread the prompts several times, hardly noticing that a commotion was brewing across the dark camp. Now that the golden wind of Leveling Up was gone, Hal could hear the voices of several people talking excitedly.

Apparently, it paid quite well to undertake Quests. Not just for the large amount of EXP but for the hidden bonuses.

He wondered if he received a chain-based spell because of his choice to use the chain as an improvised weapon?

Originally, he was going to finish DEX to 5 points and then do VIT next. But with his new spell, he decided to split his remaining 4 points between VIT and MND instead. He was more than a little eager to try out magic.

Actual magic.

As soon as Hal deposited the points into DEX, VIT, and MND his awareness expanded. The small blue bar of MP in the bottom-left quadrant of his vision flashed and grew ever-so-slightly.

It was only slightly smaller than his SP gauge, and quite a bit larger than his red HP bar which equally flashed and grew to match his MP.

While he felt more mentally centered after increasing his MND, his body filled out as he put the two points into VIT.

At 3 VIT he felt a little more solid. There was no better way to put it.

He was slightly less lean but not because he gained fat, his body was just sturdier.

Having such low VIT, and by extension HP, was worrying. If the world thought 1 was exceedingly low, then he feared that even a simple splinter might prove fatal from an opportunistic infection.

At the same time, he didn’t feel comfortable leaving MND at 1 either. Both for its protective effects from magic but also to increase his MP and MP regeneration.

Would his mind break from being on the receiving end of an enfeebling spell at 1 MND? He wanted to avoid that.

His compromise was a slightly weaker mental and physical protection, instead of an average score for one and a glaring weakness for the other.

[Status]

Hal Williams

Level: 4

Next Level: 265/1,050

Classes

Novice: 4

Resources

HP: 60/60

SP: 75/75

MP: 60/60

Attributes

STR: 5

VIT: 3

DEX: 5

AGI: 5 (+1)

INT: 5

MND: 3

CHR: 1

Regeneration

HP/hr: 10.3

SP/hr: 14.1

MP/hr: 11.3

Resistances

Fire: 0

Ice: 0

Wind: 0

Earth: 0

Lightning: 0

Water: 0

Light: 0

Dark: 0

Defensive Properties

DEF: 0

MDEF: 0

Insulation: 4

Class Affinity

Thief: 35%

Survival Skills

Stealth: 1

Darkvision: 1

Perception: 1

Investigation: 1

Combat Skills

Improvised Weaponry: 1

Magic Skills

Enfeebling: 0

Crafting Skills

Social Skills

Leadership: 2

Persuasion: 1

Ashera watched him with a patient smile. It would have been obvious what he was doing, he figured. This was their reality and people Leveling Up with glowing gold wind must be a pretty common occurrence.

Hal rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that, but as you were saying earlier... I’m glad I didn’t use the poison on myself too. I did think about it. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

Ashera nodded knowingly. “What you did was braver by far.”

A jaw-creaking yawn reminded him just how tired he was. Despite the Level Up that had suddenly filled him with such energy, he was still bone-weary. Even the thought of his lumpy bed back in his rundown studio apartment made his heart ache.

Compared to the beds he’d slept on here, it was heaven.

Somebody started a campfire nearby and Hal raised a hand to block the light that suddenly stung his eyes after being submerged in the dark for so long. But as soon as the warmth washed over him he felt much better.

You gain the effect of Camping.

+325% HP Regeneration.

+325% SP Regeneration.

+325% MP Regeneration.

+250% Healing effects.

Duration: While Camping.

A hand fell gently upon his shoulder. When he turned, he found Ashera smiling at him. “You get used to the darkness in time. Your darkvision will level up and the shift won’t bother you so much. You’ll see.”

I’m not sure I want to adapt… but I have to admit the world is growing on me. As much of a rocky start as I’ve had. And I have magic. Maybe I can test it out before I go to sleep. That way I’ll recover my full MP by morning.

Elora stalked over, dragging Altres along with her. When Hal had seen him last he was turning red from what he thought was embarrassment.

Now that he could see the man in the light of the campfire, he realized the truth of it. Altres’ very skin was red. His eyes were completely filled with a glowing lilac hue. His dirty, tousled black hair hung in bands around a pair of crimson curving horns as thick as Hal’s forearm that swept back from his forehead.

But most telling of all was the thin, whip-like devil tail that shifted around nervously behind him.

“I can explain,” Altres said, seeing Hal’s expression.

“You look like a Tiefling,” Hal blurted out. It was the first thing his mind connected to. The crimson red skin, the horns, the tail, glowing eyes, and if Hal leaned to the side he could just make out the pointed ears as well.

Altres visibly relaxed. “So you’re more knowledgable than some of your companions! Good, good.”

“Wait, you’re actually a Tiefling?”

“You don’t need to act so surprised,” Altres chided, pulling his arm from Elora’s grip and smoothing his filthy rumpled clothes. “We’re quite rare, it is true, but I only hid my identity because of this very reason.

“And then without the magical ring that I used to place myself in a normal human guise… well, I couldn’t have guessed that Leveling Up would rid me of the enchantment! I assure you, it was as much a surprise to me as anybody else.”

Elora agreed with a nod. “He did seem surprised.” Though she now looked at the man mistrustfully.

Hal, on the other hand, couldn’t stop grinning. Magic was real. Tieflings were real. What other wonders did this world have hiding around the next bend in his path?

“I still stand by what I said,” Hal said, looking from Elora to Altres’ true form. “I trust him.”

Altres visibly relaxed and gave Hal a nod of thanks, sitting down next to him. “I knew you were an excellent judge of character when you chose to pull me from the depths of that dank prison.”

One of the Rangers came over and passed around cups of delicious cold mountain spring water, strips of jerky, and some fresh flatbread smeared with a cold cheese spread. It was a lot like cream cheese but with a citrusy tang.

You eat [Ranger’s Repast].

+5% HP | +10% SP.

+10% SP Regeneration.

+2 DEX | +2 AGI.

Duration: 4hrs.

“Woah, I get stats for eating?” Hal asked, astounded. “Why didn’t I get anything before now?”

Altres nudged him gently in the ribs and turned his glowing lilac orbs toward him. “Huh, so you really aren’t from around here. Allow me to explain! Only decent food has any effect on stats. The better the food’s quality and the skill of the one who cooked it, the higher the bonuses.

“You notice how, as a Ranger dish, it improves the characteristics that best suit their type. Dexterity, agility, and stamina usage. Everything a growing greencloak needs to stay healthy and strong.” With a wink, he added, “And far removed from civilized society.”

“And how is it still cold?” Hal asked.

Several hooded faces turned from their meal around the fire to look at him. One of the Rangers spoke up before Altres could. “We have a permanently enchanted storage pouch that keeps everything cool and arrests rot. Useful for long forays into the Wilds.”

He should have known it was magic.

That got him thinking. If magic could make a miniature refrigerator that didn’t need electricity, what other things could he create with magic that had relied on complicated technology back home?

While everybody ate in relative quiet, save for the dull roar of flames and the crackle of the logs, Hal looked at improvised crafting:

Improvised Crafting (Trait).

Improvised Crafting allows you to outfit any item with atypical ingredients, gaining the ability to swap out one ingredient for a similar type, resulting in a different finished product.

That was interesting. Hal had taken to crafting in most MMORPGs like a fish to water. It was usually his bread and butter in those games. He usually rushed to make high-tier equipment and be one of the first people to sell it.

Considering he wasn’t in an MMORPG, and that this world had been going for a very long time without him he doubted he could replicate those achievements.

Better to focus on staying alive first, though he couldn’t help but let his mind wander a bit.

One of the most annoying issues was running out of a specific material and it seemed like the improvised crafting trait would solve that. He immediately thought of a variety of replacements that he’d like to try out once he had a safe workshop to tinker around in.

After a quick look at his skills, one thing Hal did notice was that he had nothing for Sword. It seemed merely holding a weapon wasn’t enough. He had to actually use it. It made a certain sort of sense.

Hal turned his attention back to the group before him. For the first time, he focused on each of them. Not the typical manner in which he found himself tentatively ignoring people around him like he was on the bus, instead he really looked at each of them.

Altres was sharing a story about something called a karak and a cart of dwarves trying to tie its barding on. Hal didn’t understand much of what he was saying but many of the Rangers around the campfire were giving appreciative chuckles and nodding along, clearly entertained.

Most of the Rangers wore nearly identical forest-green cloaks. All of them seemed to be exceptionally skilled with the bow and were able to flow through the forest like a whisper of wind.

He hadn’t been sure they were staying with them at all until Elora had called to set up camp and they simply appeared. In the firelight, their faces all had smooth flawless skin. Not at all the weathered features of people who frequented the outdoors.

More than a few sported the telltale pointed ears of elven descent.

These were people who could probably live out the rest of their lives happily without any home or town. Which begged the question: Why were they sticking around? A question Hal suddenly needed answered.

He wished he could talk to Elora alone.

Hal cleared his throat and looked at Elora. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m on the run as a wanted fugitive of Sanctum-Fallwreath,” she answered bluntly, tearing off another strip of jerky with her teeth. “And because it’s the right thing to do.”

“But why did you bother to save me? I’m not important. Not a noble or some preternaturally strong fighter. I’m just… me.”

Elora motioned at the Rangers and each of them pulled down their cowl, revealing what Hal already spotted. Fair features with pointed ears and beautiful jewel-bright eyes. Elves. She motioned to everybody else. “Notice anything different?”

Oh boy, this is exactly the scenario that I make myself look accidentally super-racist. Hal played dumb and shrugged. I’m so very glad I don’t have 1 intelligence anymore.

She made a frustrated sound and shook her head. “Nobody I’ve ever met, in all my life, has had dark eyes. They are not only rare, but they’re also practically unheard of.” Elora leveled her blue-gray eyes at him. “All except one type of person. I assume running through his castle you’ve seen the images. He really thinks a lot of himself. They all do.”

There was a general round of grumbling agreement from the Rangers, and a particularly hearty “harrumph” from Altres.

Hal had seen the images. The Founder had a portrait of himself every ten feet, he’d need to be blind to miss them. “All Founders have dark eyes like me?”

Elora nodded. “Now you get it.”

His brow crumpled. “Then why didn’t you try to kill me? If all the Founders are as corrupt as that guy.” Hal hiked a thumb in what he hoped was the general direction of Sanctum-Fallwreath.

No, no, no. Stop talking. Do you want them to murder you? Hal found that despite his mounting horror, the words continued to pour out. This is what I get for leaving my charisma at 1.

“Wouldn’t you want to vent your frustration with him on somebody like me?” he continued, unable to stop himself. “Or at least prevent me from reaching whatever power he has?”

One of the Rangers burst out laughing, it was a sweet melodious sound. “He is a funny one.” Her accent had a sing-song lilt to it.

“Hal, listen to me very carefully.” Elora turned on the root she sat on to face him. “You are marked, just like a Founder. Nobody knows why they turned into what they’ve become.

“But I do know they weren’t always like that. You are the first new Founder anybody has seen alive in decades. You represent all that they have lost. You are the hope for all the people who feel cheated and oppressed. Why would we want to hurt that?

“Don’t you understand? With you, we could make a safe haven, a Sanctum for all the people who have been forced to live in the Wilds.” She raised a hand to forestall Hal’s objection.

“I know you said you want nothing to do with it,” Elora continued. “But all I ask is that you wait until we get there. Once you see it with your own eyes, if you still wish to turn away, I won’t stop you. Everybody has their right to live their life how they choose. Will you at least do that for me?”

It was a hard point to argue against. Being a savior, a leader against tyranny and corruption. Only one small problem. Hal was not a leader. Even if this place was growing on him, he didn’t know the first thing about being a leader. Much less a Founder.

Hal hung his head. “All right, you win. But once we get there, I can’t promise you I’ll be able to do anything even if I do stay. I don’t know what the flork this mark does and I don’t even know the first thing about magic.” He motioned to the falchion he had set against the nearby root. “I can’t even use that thing.”

One of the Ranger’s grinned at him and stood, drawing out a long curved sword that shimmered in the firelight. It sent a shiver down his spine. “I can help with that,” he said.

11

Angram hits you for 12 points of damage.

“Son of a bench that hurts!” Hal yelped. His HP dropped precipitously.

Even though they were only using wooden training weapons, Angram’s hits were surprisingly painful. Hal didn’t want to imagine what it would be like to train with only 1 VIT.

With just 3 VIT, it was still a horrendously painful experience. Each of Angram’s hits took off a fifth of his HP.

Last night, after dinner, Angram introduced him to the basic forms and footwork of swordsmanship. And though Hal had taken some basic fencing lessons in high school, they didn’t prepare him at all for the rigors of an actual weapon.

He was so tired after their initial lesson that night that he hardly remembered about trying out his new spell. As soon as Hal found a bedroll to collapse upon, he was out like a light.

Angram woke him up the next day, bright and early with drifting tendrils of fog all about the ground to resume their training.

While the other Rangers got a lay of the land and packed up what was left of the campsite, Hal trained. Or rather, was bruised and battered as he attempted to inelegantly use the unwieldy thing in his hand.

Hal rushed in, feinted left, and then drew a line with the tip of the wooden sword from Angram’s hip to shoulder. The Ranger took the hit with a grunt of pain.

You hit Angram for 3 points of damage.

“Good!” came Angram’s clear ringing voice. “Again.”

Angram raised his curved wooden sword in a salute and dashed in faster than Hal could even hope to compete with. It was all he could do to put one foot behind himself to brace the oncoming blows and hold his practice sword out to guard against the worst of it.

You parried Angram’s attack.

You parried Angram’s attack.

You partially parry Angram’s attack, you take 5 points of damage.

Every parry drained his SP by a large chunk. It was a little less than the HP damage it would have caused and after just a few parries his SP bottomed out resulting in a partial parry.

Which, Hal hadn’t even realized was a thing.

Angram, the Ranger with a cruel disarming smile, a wickedly savage fighting style, and skill far superior to his own had taken him under his wing as an apprentice.

Or maybe as a punching bag. Hal wasn’t sure yet.

“Very good,” Angram said. “I think that’s enough for now, eh?”

Lathered in sweat, bruised, and with more than a few bleeding scrapes, Hal nodded. He was down to 46 HP, 3 more HP than he should have thanks for the [Ranger’s Repast] HP boost.

Considering his HP regeneration rate of 10.3, he’d heal up the damage while they were marching for the day. About two hours and he would be right as rain.

It was too bad that campfires usually attracted monsters. Or else they would set a proper campfire every time they ate. The Rangers, with their high Survival skill, could make a campfire that tripled regeneration.

That knowledge did little to comfort him though. The pain of training was all too real.

Training Complete: +67 Experience Points.

You have unlocked Parry Skill (Level 0).

Avoiding harm during a fight while remaining effective is a difficult balance to strike. Some wear heavy armor and strap on large shields to create a bulwark against which many foes struggle to penetrate. Others, like yourself, prefer to use their weapons to their full benefit by parrying and defending against deadly strikes.

Your Parry Skill has risen to Level 1.

+1% Parry success (+1%).

-1% Parry stamina cost (-1%).

You have unlocked Sword Skill (Level 0).

The weapon of choice for would-be heroes and highway bandits alike. Under Angram’s watchful gaze you have taken the first steps to ensure that you consistently stick your enemies with the pointy end first.

Your Sword Skill has risen to Level 1.

+1% Sword damage (+1%).

-0.25% Sword durability loss (-0.25%).

He repressed a sigh. While he was happy to have two new skills, the EXP from training was abysmal. If he wanted to Level Up, it’d take him at least ten more similar sessions to hit Level 5.

That wasn’t a prospect Hal was looking forward to. But considering the road ahead, perhaps it was for the best. He would rather get beat up by Angram than have to face a murderous guard or some monster that would eat him if he failed to parry an attack.

That’s probably why the EXP is so low. It’s safer.

Once they were finished that morning, Angram offered him a look at his sword. In exchange for a peek at Hal’s.

Hal took look at Angram’s sword and though he still didn’t have a good grasp on the stats in this world, he knew a vastly superior weapon when he saw one.

Voicetaker

[Sword] (Epic)

Item Level: 32

DMG: 22

DEX +3 | AGI +3 | MP +45

Additional Effect: Silence

DUR: 500/500

Lv.12 Ranger

Compared to his [Deserter’s Falchion], Angram’s [Voicetaker] was in an entirely different league. Hal didn’t miss the rarity tag next to the type of item it was in the brackets.

“Hey, Angram?” Hal asked, lifting his gaze from the curved blade to meet the elf’s questioning look. “Epic is a sort of rarity right? How far apart is uncommon from epic?”

The Ranger stirred the pot with a long wooden spoon and put on a pensive expression. “There are quite a few rarity levels. I only know the first ten. Ashera might know more, she received a proper education after all. The first ten should suit anybody well enough though. Anything beyond that is unlikely to be just be found lying about.

“In order we have: primitive, common, uncommon, superior, rare, epic, heroic, fabled, legendary, and mythic. If you think of them like tiers, your sword would be a tier-three rarity while mine is a tier-six. So, roughly double the rarity of yours. Though that doesn’t really track. Each tier is a pretty large jump and there are further leaps in power every few rarity tiers past that.”

“So, uncommon isn’t all that special then,” Hal reasoned. It wasn’t far off from other games.

“Pretty much.” Angram lifted the spoon to his lips and tasted the yellowish steaming mush. “Needs more salt.”

As the Ranger took out a small pouch and added pinch after pinch of salt to the food, Hal looked over at the rest of their small camp. In the light of the morning, even with the low-lying fog, Hal could make out the ancient trees and towering boughs filling the space with a green light.

It was oddly serene, considering recent events. Everything felt so far away. Removed. “I can see why you Rangers prefer to stay out here,” Hal said wistfully.

Angram turned to offer him a warm smile. It was hard to reconcile the elf before him and the one that so gleefully inflicted painful lessons on him.

It was a savory mush, similar to grits but with a deeper, nuttier flavor that he couldn’t place.

Once Hal finished up his first bowl, Angram took it and filled it up again. “Trust me, this’ll be good for you,” he said to Hal’s questioning look.

You eat [Remonta].

+12% SP.

+12% SP Regeneration | +12% HP Regeneration.

Duration: 8hrs.

While Hal appreciated the gesture. One, judging by the smirking expressions of the other Rangers had been done largely for his benefit, he wasn’t thrilled at the implications.

They were on the move again shortly after. The Rangers were all business once breakfast was over.

Faster SP and HP regeneration meant he could withstand more training sessions. Something he had hoped would be a once-a-day affair. Now he wasn’t so sure.

Ever since last night, Angram had ruthlessly been “tutoring” Hal in the art of swordsmanship. Without the use of his chain, unfortunately. They didn’t have a wooden chain to practice with, and even if they did it would still hurt.

They were trying to train during what little downtime they had between long stretches of forced marching. The last thing anybody wanted was to sustain an injury.

Healing was costly, even the minor magic that Ashera wielded weakened her considerably. And during their flight from the region of Fallwreath, everybody needed to be in top form.

It felt more like he was being beaten up for sport. Whenever they called to break for a meal or to rest, Angram managed to find Hal no matter where he tried to hide.

The problem with Rangers was, there was no place to hide from them. Especially not in a forest. It was practically their home turf. All of Hal’s attempts had been easy to thwart.

Not that there was anywhere for him to go if he didn’t want to get lost.

He wouldn’t have been surprised if Elora was in on it. No doubt she’d tell him how badly he needed the training.

It was true but that didn’t make it any better.

Later that day, Hal was once more enduring a savage beating from Angram’s lightning-fast display of swordsmanship. Every time Hal appeared to have improved even a little bit, Angram turned up the intensity.

Left, right, left, whipped Angram’s wooden sword. Hal tried to keep up, parrying with all his might. The added SP he gained from his second meal of [Remonta] helped but he was still nearly exhausted after that last salvo.

Angram let up his assault and stepped back. He had an unnatural sense for when Hal was at his wit’s end. He would push him just enough and then they’d take a break.

The Elf put his sword, point-first into the soft earth. “I think that’s enough for now. We still have miles to go. And we need to get there in one piece. You did well. You’re improving at an impressive pace.”

Hal took the rare praise and tried not to smile. It was hard. Angram was a lot of things but he was not free with his compliments. Most things warranted a shrug of his shoulders.

Training Complete: +75 Experience Points.

Trying to remember what Elora had taught him earlier that day, Hal jabbed his falchion into the ground, crossed one hand over his heart, and bowed over the pommel of the sword until it almost touched the hand over his heart.

I really hope I did that right.

Angram’s bright ruby-red eyes widened fractionally. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Angram returned the salute, a sign of deep respect among Elves. If Elora was to be believed.

Speak of the devil.

Elora walked over to them, a frown spreading across her features as she noticed the cuts and scrapes. Sometimes she treated him like an easily broken family heirloom.

Looking over at Angram, she said, “Don’t be so rough with him, he’s still a Novice.” She shot Hal a sympathetic look.

There was a sparkle of mischief in Angram’s eyes and he gave her a little mocking bow. “I am treating him as a swordsman’s apprentice should be. I will not coddle him and stunt his growth but you will be happy to know I am only using the blunt side of my wooden sword.”

“Wait, what?” Hal looked sharply up at the Ranger who was doing his best to stifle a chuckle. “All of this,” Hal pointed to the map of pain he felt all over his body, “is from the blunt side? Why does it feel like you were stabbing me then?”

Angram grinned and shrugged. “The mind is a funny thing. It wants to believe what it will. And I am very capable with a blade. I could use a twig if that would make you feel better or wrap my wooden sword in a cloak but I would not presume to dishonor you. Unless that is your wish?”

“No,” Hal shot back. “No, that’s fine.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. How the hell did Angram manage to do so much damage to him?

Without having to be asked, Ashera was at his side in a moment, startling him out of his thoughts. She placed her hands gently on his shoulders. The warm sensation of her healing washed through him and his HP rebounded up to full.

Ashera casts Bracing Cure.

You recover 25 points of HP.

You recover 20 points of SP.

He never got used to the way healing magic seemed to lift him up. The intense warmth was like coming in from a blizzard to a warm fire and taking a nice long drink of fresh hot cocoa.

There was nothing quite like it.

Of all the skills, getting his Sword skill up was proving to be quite difficult. Then again, Hal assumed that training wasn’t remotely as effective as actual combat.

Not that he was quick to put his life on the line again just for some skill-ups.

Hal looked up. There was one particularly heavy gray-black cloud that hung over their position like a rainstorm waiting to let loose.

Even with the thick forest canopy above, it was easy to spot. Ever since he had come to this world it had either been completely overcast or raining. Seasonal depression must run rampant here.“Ashera?”

“Hmm?” Hal was suddenly aware of how close she was to him. Since last night she had changed out of her armor and donned a set of Ranger’s garb. She looked stunning. He wished he could get a set of that armor. His clothes were getting rattier by the minute.

“I was curious, is it always this gloomy and rainy here?” He pointed up at the sky.

“It is autumn, but the weather has been unseasonably grim lately I will agree. It may be a portent of your arrival.” She saw how Hal flinched at that and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Or it may simply be some bad weather. As we go farther west toward the Shiverglades it will get colder and darker.”

“How far are the Shiverglades?” Hal had never heard of the place before but it didn’t sound the most friendly of places.

“Weeks more on foot but first we have to get out of Fallwreath’s borders,” Elora said from Hal’s other shoulder. Her sudden appearance nearly made him jump out of his skin. “We’re nearly there. Most of the Rangers operate in this corridor of the Wilds and much of Fallwreath’s patrols have been cut down to save coin. We should be safe… from people.”

“And I assume that means we have something else to worry about?” Hal said. His skin crawled thinking of that hulking monstrosity that had been a cross between an ape and a praying mantis.

“Monsters, mostly. Some wild animals but there’s a reason people gather to the Sanctums, Hal. They provide protection against the Manastorms and against monsters.” Elora looked him up and down. “We’re nearly at the stockpile, we’ll outfit you soon in proper attire.”

Hal didn’t much like the sound of Manastorms. “So what… precisely are Manastorms?”

“That’s an interesting question,” Altres said, coming up beside them. He had a new sword belted on his hip. Hal noticed it wasn’t the one Altres had his eyes on but rather a simple thin blade. His clothing was cleaner but like Hal’s, at the end of its lifespan.

“How so?” Hal asked, turning to the red-skinned man.

Altres’ spade-tipped tail lashed around behind him as he struck a pensive pose. “Well, presumably you do not have them where you come from. It would be like explaining what rain is, or wind. It is a basic fact of Aldim.” At Hal’s curious look he added, “That’s the name of our world.”

Elora pushed Altres aside then turned back to Hal. “It is a deadly storm of chaotic mana that destroys and corrupts the land around it in ways nobody can predict. Monsters spawn from within the twisters of condensed mana that touch down from the clouds. Some even spawn from the mana strikes that resemble lightning.

“If we’re caught in it, our best bet is to run and never stop running. But the Manatrees within each Sanctum or Sanctuary generally keep the surrounding region clear. And what Manastorms appear are weak and fleeting. If you see colored lightning or clouds that are vibrant hues, tell us immediately.”

As gruff and blunt as Elora could be she was surprisingly patient with him.

She had been kind as she could be while keeping up a brisk pace. Now that they had put a day between them and potential pursuit, she seemed to have relaxed a little. Hal wasn’t sure that Fallwreath would send anybody after him.

After all, the only people who knew where he was last seen were dead. Hal imagined it would be pretty hard to find a single guy among all the prisoners that had escaped. Though he did feel a pang of guilt for leaving them to their fate.

“What is it?” Ashera asked, studying his face. Her horns were bright and snowy in the dull afternoon light.

Hal shrugged one shoulder and went over to the campfire where they were roasting some wild boar that had been caught. It smelled… well, it smelled like ham. I guess some things are the same no matter where you are.

“I feel bad about the prisoners,” he admitted.

Ashera followed him, hands folded behind her back. “You did what you had to in order to escape. And I dare say, quite a few of the prisoners will have been able to flee the Sanctum even with the lockdown. From what you told us, if as many cells were set free as we believe, there would have been well over a hundred people freed.”

Hal sat down on the grass. “But I left them as soon as I could.”

That wasn’t entirely true. He didn’t have the same level of bloodlust that swept up that particular group. And, apparently, neither did Altres. The man - tiefling, he corrected - was quick to leave the large group as well.

Some of the Rangers watched him. They always did. Hal wasn’t sure what to make of that. Most of them didn’t talk to him or bother to engage with him but they very clearly listened when he spoke.

Unlike when Altres was around them. That guy could get a stone to open up and start talking.

“And are you responsible for every wayward person you help out?” Elora asked, raising a blonde brow. “Is it your duty to shepherd every lost soul from the moment you lift them from the muck until the day they die?”

“Well… no.” Hal rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. He knew it wasn’t as simple as he made it out to be and yet he kept on talking. “But I freed them and immediately left them to fend for themselves. Shouldn’t I have at least tried to lead them out? Maybe we could have stormed the gates and broken out as a whole.”

I really need to get my Charisma up. He was far from happy about the plight of the prisoners, but he was having a hard time getting his feelings across. Whenever he tried, they came out whiny and dour. Not at all how he meant to express himself.

At least it wasn’t as severe as having 1 INT. Nothing could be worse than that.

Ashera folded up into a cross-legged position across from him. “The likely outcome of that would have been your death at the hands of the Sanctum Guard.

“Even if they did not kill you, or you somehow managed to fight off seasoned men with decades of experience and superior arms, we would not have been able to take the prisoners with us if we had found you.”

That made Hal sit up. “What? Why not? Don’t they deserve freedom as much as anybody else? Some of them were wrongly convicted.” The Quest prompt had been fairly explicit.

Ashera held up a hand and smiled gently at him. It had an immediate calming effect. “Peace, Hal. I am not saying they did not deserve our help. I am saying we could not.”

“What Ashera is trying to say,” Elora put in, “is that we are not equipped to protect and feed more than we have with us right now. Especially not so near to the Founder’s seat of power.

“If we found them a few days from Fallwreath? Maybe. But to take such a large group of uncertain loyalties and temperament so close to Fallwreath would be suicide. Tell me, how many Rangers have you seen openly walking alongside us this past day?”

“Not that many. A couple at a time, if that.” Hal realized that, for the most part, he didn’t see any of the Rangers until it was time to break for camp. Every so often there’d be a bird call through the woods that would be answered by another somewhere else or by Elora.

Since it hadn’t seemed like a terrible ordeal to make it as far as they had, Hal didn’t think they were in any true danger. But maybe they weren’t in any danger because the Rangers were perpetually dealing with the threats, whether they were people sent after him or wild creatures.

“You see?” Ashera said to Elora. “He understands.”

Elora looked less than convinced. She was about to open her mouth when Hal spoke instead, “What you’re saying is if we had gone through the woods a hundred-strong, even a dozen or more, we’d be easily spotted. The Rangers are good but I don’t think they could hide that many people from detection or protect them from the threats I’m sheltered from.

“I get it. It’s only with a small group could we hope to make it out of Fallwreath’s borders. Not to mention hunting and organizing shelter of any kind for so many people would be a nightmare.”

“You’re right, Ashera,” Elora said. “Perhaps he is ready to understand what’s really going on around us.” Something softened in her tone toward Hal.

Hal looked at them curiously. “Does this have something to do with the Founder Rebels?” The notification had made it seem like there was something brewing under the surface. He couldn’t mistake the subversive thread that wove its way through much of Elora’s words.

The two women looked at each other, even Altres nearby perked up and came over.

Elora raised a hand to halt whatever Ashera was about to say. “I know what you are about to say. I already said you were right.” She turned to Hal. “You are mostly right. The Rangers are part of a larger group of rebels known as the ‘Amatire’ or the Hope in Common.

“For years they have been building up supplies and safe houses just waiting for the day a new Founder showed up. One with a kind heart. As a member of that group, it is my duty to protect you and the Manaseed we have in our charge.

“You could change the world, Hal. Make a real difference. My home is unrecognizable. You’ve seen what my own mother tried to do. The current Founder tortures and kills anybody he sees fit. If you were to take the Manaseed and plant it, not only would you become immortal but you would be able to create a Sanctum. A safe haven for every oppressed soul in Aldim.”

Hal felt like somebody just threw a bag of bricks at him and he was struggling to hold onto them. “That’s a lot to ask,” he said softly.

Elora reached out and grabbed his forearm. “I know. And none of us are going to force you. We only want you to keep an open mind and not dismiss it out of hand. Please, Hal. This may not be your world… but it could be.”

“What did you do back home?” Altres asked.

Hal stared at the grinning fangs of the ruby-skinned tiefling. “I… was a driver.” When everybody looked at him curiously, he explained it in greater detail.

“So you took people from one place to another,” Altres mused. “You could be a king here, Hal. More than a king. Immortality is no joke. And magic like you would not believe, all at your fingertips. Why go back to a world where you’re a driver when you could stay here and be immortal?”

“And not just immortal,” Ashera added. “You could make a difference. You could decide the safety and health of a kingdom. You could undo all of Rinbast’s mistakes. And even if you preferred not to confront him, you could make a home for people who are without one.”

Ashera swept her arm out wide toward the mossy oaks to the north in the dense wood they were sheltered in. “People live on the fringes of society in fear of Manastorms that can destroy everything they have ever known because they find that preferable to the tyranny of the current Founder.

“I could see the fire in your eyes when you realized how horribly unfair you were treated by the Founder. Now imagine if you had no magic. No means of escaping that prison.”

“I would be dead,” Hal agreed softly.

“And I would have starved to death,” Altres said somberly. “All for writing a few silly songs and poems at the expense of the Founder. You saved me, Hal. Make no mistake, you could save many more. There are dozens of dungeons even worse than the one we were thrown into.

“People whose only crime is that they spoke out against oppression and unfairness. Guards kill indiscriminately and suffer no repercussions. They are little more than thugs the Founder uses to keep people in line. But what choice do they have? They would have to travel beyond Fallmark and that journey would be beyond all but the most seasoned adventurers.

“But you Hal. You could change that. You could give them an option.” Altres shrugged. “Either way, I will follow you and help where I might best. It is the least I could do after you saved me.”

“Nobody is pressuring you, Hal,” Elora said. “But it is only right that you understand what is at stake. If you somehow found a way to go back home, the Founder would eventually find us and slaughter our families then us. As much as I do not like it, we are at your mercy.

“If you choose to go back, none of us would stop you. That is your right, it is your life. But if you choose to stay… if you choose to fight.” Elora’s eyes misted, her voice grew tight with emotion. “We will die by your side. This I swear. You will never want for allies.”

To Hal’s surprise, the Rangers that had gathered around them in a loose circle were nodding their heads in agreement. Even Ashera and Altres.

He had seen just a glimpse of what these people must go through. Could he, in good conscience, leave them to that fate? Even ignoring the many gifts he would gain, he could have a life full of purpose and adventure on Aldim.

And magic. Real magic. On Aldim he could grow in ways that people back home could only dream of in games, movies, and stories. It was all real here. If only he agreed to stay. But it was a monumental decision. One he couldn’t make lightly.

“Man, am I glad you guys like me so much that you wouldn’t ever dream of kicking me out now that I know Hal’s secret,” Altres said, draping an am over Hal’s shoulder. “Right? Guys? I need constant reassurance and attention or I die. Hey, where are you going?”

12

That night as they stopped to camp, Hal bustled around helping to set up. It had been at his own insistence that he do something useful. So, Elora had given him the task of finding kindling for the fire.

Not the most prestigious of jobs but he felt it was only right to try and help out. They were saving his life, after all. And with such a big decision to make that would affect so many lives, keeping busy stopped him from dwelling on the enormity of it all.

Hal’s Darkvision had gone up two Levels and he could now see roughly 20 feet in the pitch-black darkness. While it didn’t stop him tripping and fumbling about in the dark, it did make it easier for him to spot bits of deadfall that he gathered up into his arms.

For the first time since leaving Sanctum-Fallwreath, Hal realized he was alone. Elora had trusted him. After everything she told him, she trusted him to go out on his own without a bodyguard.

He didn’t doubt there was a Ranger somewhere out in the dark watching him. But they clearly didn’t expect him to go off screaming and running into the night away from the responsibility they offered him.

It’s a start.

Determined to prove that he didn’t need somebody holding his hand the entire time, Hal gathered up two armloads of deadfall and hauled them back to the camp.

“Those will make some good kindling,” a Ranger said to him, relieving him of his burden. “But see here? This one’s still green, notice how it bends when you flex it? It’ll produce more smoke than fire.” She tossed it aside. “The rest of these are, however, quite good. You have a decent eye.”

You have unlocked Survival (Level 0).

Survival abilities allow you to not only live off the land but to thrive. Survival determines your ability to hunt for game, distinguish poisonous food from edible, and to make camp effectively.

Not enough to get a skill level though, he noticed.

Hal was tired. All the marching and constant hiking were more than he had probably ever walked in his entire lifetime. As soon as he sat down it all came crashing onto his shoulders, bowing them with exhaustion.

He didn’t even have the strength to worry about Angram coming around and insisting on another bout of training. Granted, one or two more rounds would likely get him to Level 5. After the last few bouts, he was less than 100 EXP away.

All he wanted was to curl up on the ground and fall asleep. Fire or no fire.

That same Ranger squatted next to him, setting up the kindling in the circle of stones nearby. She eyed him sidelong with jewel-bright amethyst eyes. “Ranger life isn’t for everybody, kid.”

Hal squinted at her. He didn’t quite have the energy to give her a full glare. “I’m not a kid, I’m in my late twenties.”

The Ranger shrugged one shoulder, now that Hal had a moment to look at her he recognized the blonde braided hair. He thought her name was Yesel. Yes, that was definitely her. She was the only one he remembered having such striking purple eyes. “And I’m ninety-two. To me, you are still a child.”

Dang elves and their long lifespan. Why can’t humans be the beautiful long-lived race for a change?

“Elora was right, you could be a beacon of hope you know,” she said off-handedly to the sticks she was setting up. “Do not take this the wrong way, but not many of my people will welcome you as warmly as Elora and our brethren here have.”

“Because I’m human?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that level of racism.

Yet he had already pegged the elven Rangers as something out of Lord of the Rings or any other high fantasy novel.

“Partly, yes.” She was blunt, Hal appreciated the unvarnished truth. “And partly because you do not appear to care very much for anybody but yourself. You learn to survive so you do not die, that is not for us. That is for you, so you may return to the home whence you came. This world and its plight? You care nothing for it.”

Hal rankled at that. Mostly because it was true. At least in part. A flicker of anger unfurled into a tiny flame in his chest but whether it was at himself or Yesel’s accusation, he didn’t know.

“I do care.” He strained to keep his voice quiet. Controlled. “I care for the corruption that’s happened here but how can I fully understand what’s going on when we spend all day marching through woods that are darker than night half the time?

“Where I come from, there are lights everywhere. Trees are organized into parks that are easily navigated. And people aren’t trying to kill me every time they see this mark.” Hal jabbed a finger at the rough-looking bandage still covering his left forearm.

“Of course I want to go home, wouldn’t you want to leave somewhere that has been nothing but brutal and unkind to you?”

Yesel’s shoulders sagged fractionally. She looked over at Hal with those piercing amethyst eyes. “Believe it or not, I understand. Perhaps your desire to get home is not so selfish. But have you taken the time to see the beauty of this world, despite its flaws?”

There was no use in lying. “No, not that I’ve had much time… but no. I haven’t really bothered.”

Yesel nodded to herself as much as Hal. Her hair fell, covering her face. She looked back at the fire and tucked a strand behind a pointed ear. “Let’s start with the basics. The name of this star, do you know it?”

“Aldim.”

That brought a look of surprise from Yesel. She recovered quickly. “Quite right. It is one of three nearby stars.”

“When you say star, do you mean the sun?” Hal asked. He’d never heard of a person referring to a planet as a star before.

She shook her head. “No, I mean the star we inhabit. Aldim has three moons, two small, one large and a bright band that splits the sky. Have you seen the band? No? That is a shame. It is beautiful in the morning. Maybe if you stay long enough the weather will turn and you will see for yourself.”

That intrigued Hal. He wondered what the tides and oceans were like with three moons. And the band could only mean a ring around the planet, which was unique in itself.

Yesel was about to say something more when a shrill call rang out from the darkness around them. She sprang to her feet, put an arm out, and grabbed Hal him without looking. She pulled him bodily behind her.

Out came her bow. Yesel nocked it in one smooth motion and held it at the ready. “Stay behind me and stay low, do you understand?”

Hal stumbled and barely managed to get to his feet. Was everybody around here so much stronger than him? He reached for his falchion and his chains.

The feel of the [Deserter’s Falchion] in his hand made him more confident. He took out the chains he managed to keep hold of and held them in his left hand. If he had to defend himself, at least he now had the capacity to do so.

There was something strangely symbolic about his chains. Like they were part of his identity.

A high-pitch yipping sound echoed around them. Yesel’s bow twanged in the dark and one of the sounds became strangled, then ceased altogether. But it was only one among dozens of them.

“What is that?” Hal asked, tightening his grip on the chains.

“Gnolls,” Yesel hissed. An arrow streaked through the dark and Yesel swatted it out of the air with her bow. “Something is not right. Gnolls are weak, frightful creatures. They would not brazenly attack us ordinarily.”

The sound of fighting echoed around them in the forest and Hal heard the strange whistling sound of arrows diving through the air. For the first time, Hal was glad they were plunged into complete darkness. A campfire would have been a beacon for these creatures.

But it would have been nice to see more than dark shifting shapes all around.

“Behind us!” Yesel shouted. Hal moved with Yesel, keeping to her back as she pivoted around and drew back her bow again. There was a constant thrum in the air around her, she sent arrow after arrow into the dark to hit targets Hal could not hope to see.

A snarl caught Hal off-guard and he turned just as a shadow resolved itself from the darkness and lunged at him. It was the largest wolf he had ever seen.

They collided together and tumbled through the dark away from Yesel. She sent a few arrows into the thing’s back before she was overrun herself and Hal was dragged away. She was swallowed by the dark veil that drifted at the edge of his darkvision’s range.

Hal sliced up with his falchion, meeting greasy hide that was oddly resistant to the blade’s edge.

The gnoll tossed him like a doll and Hal tumbled until he fetched up against the trunk of a large tree, blasting the breath from his lungs. After his training with Angram, he found it didn’t hurt quite as much compared to the Ranger’s painful lessons.

But then he realized it wasn’t supposed to.

The [Gnoll] uses Vicious Hurl.

You take 5 points of damage.

You are Stunned!

Hal’s head swam and his muscles felt locked up. The gnoll loped toward him with disturbing grace. It raised up on its hind legs, standing seven feet tall and slashed down with its dagger-like claws. Blood sprayed as they ripped past Hal’s meager defenses. A full quarter of his HP was ripped off with that last strike, bringing him down to 40.

You are no longer Stunned.

Hot lines of pain branded themselves into his chest and Hal screamed out. Suddenly able to control his own body again, he brought up the wide blade of the falchion for the next attack. Bright sparks flashed in the night, as Hal parried the next slash, illuminating the slavering muzzle of the gnoll.

Rolling to the side, Hal grabbed at an exposed root for leverage and leaped to his feet. He swung over to the other side of the tree, using the trunk as a shield from the gnoll’s ridiculous reach.

The pain across his chest was intense but it was surprisingly easy to bear. This was the type of wound that would have sent any normal person into shock but aside from the pain, Hal felt fine.

The gnoll leaped around the tree, its long rending claws swiping through the air where Hal was just a heartbeat ago.

Instead, Hal was crouched low to the ground. He never did get a chance to use enchainment and he meant to remedy that. He may not be able to beat the creature in a straight fight, but he didn’t have to.

As soon as he concentrated on the spell, his hand moved of its own accord and he could feel the wellspring of mana within him come alive.

The ground burst forth with spectral chains that crisscrossed the air in front of Hal, lashing against the Gnoll and pulling it down to the ground.

Try as the creature might, it couldn’t break free. All it could do was snarl and bark.

You cast Enchainment.

The [Gnoll] suffers the effect of Bind.

He circled behind another tree, then another after that in an attempt to swing around and get back to Yesel and the camp.

The gnoll never appeared again but Hal kept glancing back over his shoulder to make sure nothing else was coming after him. And so he didn’t see the tiny creature standing waist-high with a large club that knocked him down with one swipe.

Hal went down, hard. The goblin wasted no time taking full advantage of Hal’s prone body. All Hal saw was a masked face and a thick knotted log falling towards his head before everything went black a moment after a new prompt appeared.

The [Goblin Skirmisher] defeats you.

13

You are revived.

You suffer the effect of Weakness.

Having been revived after being knocked unconscious, your body is still reeling from the effects. All stats are reduced by 50%. Being knocked out and revived again while already weakened will incur a harsher penalty.

Your Enfeebling Magic has risen to Level 1.

+1% Enfeebling success (+1%).

+2% Enfeebling duration (+2%).

You suffer the effect of Exhaustion (Lv.1).

HP, MP, and SP regeneration halted.

Exhaustion

Exhaustion can be incurred from cold or hot temperatures without proper insulation, starvation, dehydration, extreme sleep deprivation, and certain poisons, spells, or abilities. Exhaustion comes in 5 progressively worsening levels. All higher levels include the effects of those preceding it.

Lv.1: HP, MP, and SP regeneration halted.

Lv.2: -50% Chance to resist status effects.

Lv.3: HP, MP, and SP halved.

Lv.4: Speed is halved.

Lv.5: Unconsciousness.

“Wakey, wakey, man-thing! Many tongue-flaps we must trade.”

Something rough slapped across Hal’s face and he slowly came back to his senses. When he saw where he was, he instinctively reached for his falchion but found nothing there.

Instead, he discovered that his hands were once more bound. Ironically, with the same [Iron Manacles] he was bound with back in Fallwreath’s dungeon. A recurring theme he was getting more than a little sick of.

At least I can get out of these at a moment’s notice. Hal nearly did just that, but his head swam and a wave of nausea assaulted him so severely that he struggled to keep from retching.

Maybe in a little bit.

Worse yet, his clothes had been stripped from him. All he had on between himself and the wild world around him was a pair of embarrassing Cat in the Hat boxers.

Wherever he was, it was cold. He shivered fitfully and tried to take in his surroundings when a masked goblin reached one stubby hand forward and pulled Hal upright. He held a small crudely carved item in his free hand.

Everything felt sluggish. His mind dripped disconnected thoughts that he couldn’t keep straight for longer than a few seconds. Even the appearance of his rather diminutive cellmate didn’t seem to register directly.

Hal took a moment to take in his surroundings. He was in a large rough-hewn cavern, with torches set haphazardly along various ramshackle levels built with little more than rope and sticks.

The cave was tall, he couldn’t see the roof through the gloom even with several torches spaced out among the ramshackle prison cells. Everything had a very kludged feel to it.

Functional but only just.

The only thing that seemed decently constructed were the rows of cages that held countless shadowy forms. More prisoners. So, I’m not the only one.

Another slap brought his attention back to his cellmate.

A little goblin with a crudely carved mask fit over his face, not too unlike the shape of a bowling ball with large spaced apart holes. He had a single long pointed green ear that was practically drooping out of the left side of his mask.

Now that Hal was focusing a little, he noticed that the goblin’s ear wasn’t green skin. It was short, velvety green fur. That’s weird.

“You listen to Buffrix!” His tiny hands were encased in what looked like leather mittens. “I saving your living-force, so you owe me many-debts uplander!”

Hal put his hands to his temples and rubbed slow, soothing circles. The goblin hopped back and took an aggressive stance. “I don’t know what you mean, living-force? Do you mean you saved my life?”

“Is what I said, why you tongue-flap useless words at Buffrix?” The goblin hopped about, and if possible, seemed even more agitated.

“Why would a goblin save my life?” Hal asked, lowering his shackled hands and trying to piece together a plan on how he was going to get out.

“Goblin!? Uplander must be air-sick! Tongue-flap crazy things. Am koblin, not goblin. Different! Buffrix will mercy-give such cruelness this once. But only this once!” He hopped around, there was plenty of room for the much smaller koblin to do so, though the cage was barely tall enough to hold Hal standing up.

“Sorry, I’m new here.” On a hunch he added, “Are goblins the ones with green leathery skin?”

“Man-thing see-true!” Buffrix clapped his mittened hands. “Yes! Koblins furry.” He reached up and showed the green fur on his ear. “Goblins gross no-fur.”

Hal looked down at his chest, his skin was stained dark brown with old blood and the wounds that should have taken months to heal were instead angry pink flesh, already on the mend.

Hal pointed to his chest. “You did this, Buffrix?”

The koblin nodded. “Man-thing owes many-debts with Buffrix now!”

“All right,” Hal hedged, assuming the koblin was telling the truth. “And how do you want to be repaid?”

“Man-thing will help Buffrix and his clan escape. We kaboom goblin stink-home. Then man-thing’s many-debts be gone.”

Hearing him talk was giving Hal a bigger headache than the one he woke up with. Then again, if this koblin did save his life he did owe him.

New Quest: Repay Buffrix!

Having saved your life, Buffrix has requested that you repay him by breaking him and his clan out of confinement and destroying the goblin prison.

Objectives

- Break Buffrix’s clan out of the goblin prison.

- Destroy the goblin cave.

- Additional objectives available.

Rewards

- 2,000 Experience Points.

- Koblin Reputation (Variable).

- Item: [Goblinbane].

- Additional rewards available.

“Got any bright ideas on how we might accomplish those lofty goals?” Hal walked the five steps to the bamboo bars. He curled his hands around them trying to shake the cage loose. It was surprisingly sturdy. “I don’t precisely have a weapon to defend myself.” He looked down at his Cat in the Hat boxers. “Or clothes.”

The rattle of Hal’s chains reminded him that perhaps he wasn’t defenseless.

“We need be finding Sparkspox and Jabkix,” Buffrix said. “Koblin-clan help us get out. Then we make great kaboom.”

Quest Updated: Repay Buffrix!

Through speaking with Buffrix, you have learned that he needs the help of two of his clanmates to escape: Sparkspox and Jabkix.

Objectives

- Break Buffrix’s clan out of the goblin prison.

- Destroy the goblin cave.

- Additional objectives available.

- Rescue Sparkspox.

- Rescue Jabkix.

- Kaboom?

Rewards

- 2,000 Experience Points.

- Koblin Reputation (Variable).

- Item: [Goblinbane].

- Additional rewards available.

It was hard to focus. The cave was damp and chill, he had to grit his teeth to stop them from chattering.

Hal looked at all the other cages to take his mind off the cold. They were stacked atop each other like Jenga towers ready to fall at the slightest breeze. The few faces he could see looked like people. A few cages held what he assumed were koblins with their crudely carved masks turned his way.

The one thing he didn’t see was any kind of guard presence. Hal’s cage was about three stories up and set on a rocky shelf all on its own. But that also meant he and Buffrix were alone.

There would be no allies within easy reach.

“What’re they going to do with us?” he asked.

Buffrix plopped down onto cold stone floor. “Force-do many-things. Maybe sell for jingle-shine to humans. Many jingle-shines for certain humans. Maybe sell you. Better fate than koblin.”

The morose tone pulled Hal away from the bars. He sat down on the hard stone floor and looked at his companion. “Why?”

“Goblin hate koblin. If no kill, they force-do until dead.” He waved a stubby, mittened hand in the general vicinity of the other cages. “Cages built by koblin to house more koblin. Humans have saying, is vicious whirlygig, yes?”

I think I understood that, somehow.

“That sounds horrible.”

Buffrix shrugged. “Is truth.”

The koblin was quiet over the next few hours as Hal paced the confines of his cage. He knew he could use Mana Investiture to break through the bars and unshackle himself. The magic was at his fingertips but he still felt woozy and groggy. The combination of exhaustion and weakness was severe.

And the cold was getting to him. Without any reprieve, Hal’s hands and feet were beginning to numb. It was all he could do to pace and try to keep warm but each step on the cold stone floor sapped more of his precious heat.

He would need to be a hundred percent if he was going to break out. Something he was beginning to suspect wasn’t going to happen.

Without a way to get rid of his exhaustion, he was sitting at a pitiful 31 HP and still had that weakened status effect, the cause for his sluggishness.

It was beyond frustrating that he could break out any time he wanted but with his current state, he would easily be taken out by any wandering goblin.

“Kobbie-friend bring tasty-nums!” called out a voice, jarring Hal back to the present issue at hand. A small koblin hurried up the sloping ramp on stubby legs and oversized furry green feet. It sported a similar, if somehow much cruder wooden mask over its features.

The koblin was shadowed by what Hal assumed was a goblin. They were identical in size and general shape but the goblin had on a suit of metal armor that covered it from head to toe, leaving only its long floppy green ears exposed. It held Hal’s falchion in both hands like a greatsword.

Every so often the goblin kicked at the koblin ahead of it. Hal felt a spike of anger at such casual cruelty. “Hurry empty-head! Gobbies have busy-deals to make! Man-things bring jingle-shines muchly for this one!” The goblin pointed Hal’s [Deserter’s Falchion] at him and let out a low cackle.

It was only then that Hal realized the golden mark on his forearm was fully visible to anybody who looked.

I guess I’ve gotten so used to it, surrounded by people who didn’t gawk and remind me of it every second.

The koblin hurried as fast as its floppy feet would allow, carrying a wide wooden tray with two bowls. Every time the goblin pushed him, the contents of the bowls slopped out a little.

Hal grimaced. He didn’t want to know what was in them.

“Here go, tasty-nums for Buffrix and…” The koblin looked up at Hal. “Oh, man-thing is awake! Happy days!” The koblin let out a little joyous whoop, which the goblin immediately punished by shoving the koblin roughly to the ground.

That spike of anger in his chest turned into a full-fledged surge of white-hot rage. The koblins seemed so sweet, weird yes, but cute. And to see them bullied like that was too much for him.

The goblin kicked the helpless little koblin again, eliciting a whimper of pain from the downed creature. Hal crossed his hands over the iron shackles on each of his wrists and triggered Mana Investiture.

He had to push hard through the exhaustion and weakness that sapped his strength. Hal grabbed hold of his anger over the abuse of the sad little koblin and used it like a battering ram to force the magic through his hands.

Mana flowed through his hands and he could feel the simple material of the metal as if it were an extension of himself. Each use brought a greater understanding and a higher degree of control.

Instead of damaging the locking mechanism, he simply unlocked it.

Hal turned his attention back to the goblin. As the Goblin raised the [Deserter’s Falchion] to strike at the downed koblin, Hal reached through the bars and slipped the chain out. Caught in both hands, Hal looped the chain in front of the goblin from behind.

Before it could realize what happened, Hal pulled hard on the chain. The goblin crashed into the sturdy bars of the cage, its sword arm pinned up high. The heavy links of the chain crushing into its windpipe.

Gritting his teeth, Hal continued to pull with all his might. Choking his guard had worked before. It was even the same weapon.

I’d really prefer not to make a habit of this. At least I’m not going, “shhh, shhh.” Like some kind of creep.

“Get the sword, koblin!” Hal hissed. His arms were shaking and he didn’t know if he could hold the goblin there long enough to knock it out. Let alone kill it.

The small, whimpering thing scrambled to its feet and snatched the weapon from the goblin’s fingers. Without any further instruction, the koblin turned the unwieldy blade on its captor and squealed, “Now you fall into my sneak-harm!”

Hal barely managed to throw his hips back far enough to avoid the tip of the blade that burst from the goblin’s back.

You defeat the [Goblin Mercenary].

You gain 100 Experience Points.

Koblin Reputation: +2,000 (Friendly).

For stepping in at great personal risk to stop koblin injustice from continuing, the koblins now view you as a friend. They will do their best to help you when it aligns with their general course and sensibilities.

Novice reaches Level 5.

You have 5 unspent Attribute Points awaiting distribution.

Your HP, SP, and MP are fully restored.

You are no longer afflicted with Weakness.

Your Improvised Weaponry Skill has risen to Level 2.

+2% Improvised weapon damage (4%).

+2% Improvised weapon attack speed (4%).

Buffrix stayed far back in the cage, shaking. He was obviously terrified of the goblin. Even after its death.

As soon as the goblin was dealt with, Hal used Mana Investiture to break out of the cell. He came around to retrieve his falchion and was nearly bowled over by the koblin on the floor.

Hal started, thinking that the creature meant to attack him. Instead it was… hugging him. Or rather, hugging his shins. “Uplander man-thing saves kobbie-life! Kobbie-clan never forget!” The koblin began hopping about while holding onto Hal with its tiny mitts.

“Shh,” Hal urged, crouching to get on the same level as the small creature. Its floppy green ears bounced and flounced with every hop. “We have to be quiet now, can you do that for me?”

The koblin immediately began to bounce and hop with even greater energy but stayed silent. As if the act of staying quiet meant it had to get its excitement out through more vigorous hopping.

Hidden Quest Unlocked: Chimeric Attunement.

The first steps to taking up the mantle of a Chimera Knight are difficult for most. But you have completed them with ease: placing equal value on both mankind and monsterkind by killing an equal amount of both, saving the life of a man, and saving the life of a monster.

In all things, Chimera Knights must walk the knife’s edge of balance. By ascribing to their ideals, you have taken the first steps along the long and bloody road to joining their ranks.

Chimera Knights prided themselves on using their unique Beast Magic to exploit weaknesses. Their position within the long-lost order was contingent upon their battle knowledge. Your induction affords the same flexibility.

Objectives

- Achieve 100% monster affinity in at least 2 monster families.

- Additional objectives available.

Reward

- Fabled Evolution Available.

- Additional rewards available.

You are now able to attain Monster Essence.

Monster Essence

At the core of Beast Magic is monster essence. Without it, a practitioner cannot hope to glean any useful information from their quarry. For those capable of using monster essence, killing a monster affords a chance to attune to their unique powers.

Consuming a monster’s essence raises your affinity to that family of monsters, allowing you to learn spells from defeating more of that same family.

Monster Affinity

By fighting and killing monsters of a specific family, you gain intimate knowledge about that race of monsters. Raising your monster affinity to 100% is necessary to learn any spells from that family.

Chimera Knight

A lost lineage of fighter-mages that employ the legendary arts of Beast Magic. With elegantly devastating swordplay, they weave fell magic mastered from monstrous opponents to decimate their enemies near and far, while bolstering their allies to victory.

Reading the prompt, Hal’s jaw fell open. That… that was nothing like what he expected he might get. That Class sounds mother florking awesome. He didn’t even mind the language filter.

Hal turned his attention back to the task at hand. He had to shuffle his feet to get anywhere since the koblin wouldn’t stop hugging him. Which made it awkward as he pulled his sword free of the goblin’s limp body.

He tried to catch the body and guide it to the ground quietly but to his surprise, the corpse vanished into a plume of purple smoke. The substance swirled and flew into his outstretched hand.

Veins of purple and black stretched up his naked forearm, crawling all the way to his bicep. It hurt at first, a searing white-hot agony that subsided until it was almost soothing.

You absorb 10 Goblin Essence.

Hal turned to the nearest koblin, then to Buffrix who was staring at the half-spilled bowls of slop on the tray nearby. His limbs trembled with the brief surge of the monster essence that flowed through his veins. There was an addictive quality to it that made him want more.

Seeing that neither koblin thought the sudden disappearance of a goblin strange, Hal decided not to bring attention to it. He bent down and gently released the koblin from his legs.

Hal picked up the tray containing the twin bowls of mush and brought them to Buffrix. The sight of their contents made Hal’s stomach churn. It looked like clam chowder but smelled like somebody poured chunky milk and spoiled orange juice together.

“I can have?” Buffrix asked, visibly trembling with excitement.

Are koblins part chihuahua? They always seem to shake with emotion.

“All yours,” Hal confirmed.

Buffrix took the bowls graciously and sat down, legs akimbo.

“No eye-peeking!” Buffrix squealed.

“Have it your way.” Hal turned around just in time for the unnamed koblin to reattach to his left leg. The little creature sat on his foot and looked up at him with what Hal assumed was wide-eyed adoration.

It was hard to tell with the mask.

Loud slurping sounded from behind him and Hal found himself strangely tempted to look over his shoulder.

If they all wear masks it must be pretty bad. Or maybe it’s some cultural thing. A small part, in the back of his mind, whispered that it would be a taboo of the highest order to peek at a goblin (or koblin) without their mask.

So, Hal kept his back turned and gazed out of the bars into the massive cave.

He could hear voices, dull and hushed from other cages. It seemed it was feeding time. Goblins forced crude-masked koblins around as they brought food to the prisoners.

With the Level Up wiping his fatigue and the weakened status effect, Hal placed his attribute points. Considering the very real danger he was in, he put VIT to 5 immediately. But the question was, what to do with the last 3 points?

If he dropped a point into MND, he could squeeze out three casts of enchainment. Adding more would only increase his regeneration rate and that was slow enough that unless he planned to spend hours skulking about, it wouldn’t serve him any good.

Placing a single point into MND, he still had 2 points left over. More STR would make it easier to fight the goblins, but so would more VIT. He doubted he would be talking his way out of an encounter anytime soon, so CHR was off the table as well.

That left only STR, VIT, INT, and AGI. Thankfully, through his insistence on prioritizing them all to a relatively healthy baseline of 5, none of them were severely unbalanced.

Raising his INT would help his investigation. He might be able to find a weakness or a secret exit that would help him escape. Considering the overwhelming odds against him - there had to be scores of goblins to keep so many people imprisoned - finding a hidden weakness might be his only chance to get out alive.

Plus, he had to find the other members of Buffrix’s clan. That had to use investigation. While more STR would have been nice to deal a bit more damage, VIT to take an extra hit, or AGI to move a bit faster, Hal placed his final 2 points in INT.

If it came down to a fight he couldn’t win, he could always cast enchainment. Hopefully, the added INT would improve it in some way. While it was an outside chance, the way the System explained monster affinity sounded like he might actually learn magic from the goblins if he killed enough of them.

[Status]

Hal Williams

Level: 5

Next Level: 26/1,400

Classes

Novice: 5

Resources

HP: 80/80

SP: 85/85

MP: 75/75

Attributes

STR: 5

VIT: 5

DEX: 5

AGI: 5 (+1)

INT: 7

MND: 4

CHR: 1

Regeneration

HP/hr: 12.4

SP/hr: 15.0

MP/hr: 13.1

Resistances

Fire: 0

Ice: 0

Wind: 0

Earth: 0

Lightning: 0

Water: 0

Light: 0

Dark: 0

Defensive Properties

DEF: 0

MDEF: 0

Insulation: 4

Monster Affinity

Beastmen

Goblin: 10%

Class Affinity

Thief: 45%

Chimera Knight: 40%

Survival Skills

Stealth: 1

Darkvision: 3

Survival: 0

Perception: 1

Investigation: 1

Combat Skills

Improvised Weaponry: 2

Sword: 1

Parry: 1

Magic Skills

Enfeebling: 1

Crafting Skills

Social Skills

Leadership: 2

Persuasion: 1

If the rate of monster essence remained the same, he would need to kill 9 more goblins to be able to learn spells from them. A feat he wasn’t entirely sure could be accomplished alone, but thankfully he had two allies with him.

Together, it might be possible.

If they were smart about it.

“Are you done?” Hal asked over his shoulder, pitching his voice low.

“Yes, many-thankings for extra food. Am done.”

Hal turned around in time to see Buffrix patting his rather gaunt belly. “You’re welcome. Is there a reason they didn’t chain you up?”

“Buffrix is no threat to goblin. With tasty-nums in belly, Buffrix can do more healy-spell. You need?”

“No, I already Leveled, but thank you.” Hal motioned for him to leave the cage then paused and turned back. “Were you unable to heal me any more than you did because you were starving?”

Buffrix nodded, his lone ear flopping about. As the small creature came closer, Hal could see the other ear was sheared off close to his head. It was a recent wound, too.

Turning to take in the path before him, Hal tried to piece together a plan. He would try to be as quiet and careful as possible. But he promised that any goblins that he came upon would suffer.

14

“What’s your name?” Hal asked the koblin attached to his leg.

The koblin leaped off him and gave an awkward salute. “Lootlox Bangpots!” it squeaked, then clamped threadbare mitts over the hole in its mask for its mouth after realizing they should be quiet.

Buffrix pointed at some of the items the goblin left behind when it turned into smoke. “Lootlox helpy-hand carry items. She carry many-thing. Big. Heavy. Small. Many-things.”

Hal looked from Lootlox to Buffrix. “Lootlox is a girl?”

Both koblins nodded.

“Buffrix is boy,” the koblin said before Hal could ask. “We hurry-scurry now, tongue-flap later!”

Before Hal could say anything, Lootlox was already scooping up a few of the items. One of them looked like the helm the goblin was wearing. Far too small for Hal but maybe he could offer it a koblin.

Buffrix hurried down the sloping ramp ahead of Hal. Stone walls rose up along the ramp as they descended into the cavern. The tunnel made a sharp turn where Hal lost sight of the koblin.

A moment later Buffrix emerged, scrambling fast. Hal brought up his falchion defensively and readied himself for the threat to round the corner. Buffrix hid behind Hal. “Now is time for tongue-flaps! Buffrix is friend!”

Hal’s confusion turned to one of great surprise when he saw not a goblin rounding the corner, but Elora.

She was bloodied and battered but held herself with a sense of duty. But when her blue-gray eyes found Hal, she nearly collapsed. Her hand flew out to brace against the cavern wall.

It was a measure of how fatigued she must be when Elora allowed Hal to help her up the slope back to the cage he had been in. “I came to rescue you,” she said.

“I see that.”

“You’re going to make my rescue seem much less impressive, seeing as you’ve already broken out on your own.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Hal said with a forced smile. Up close he could see how many wounds she had. The woman was covered in a sheen of sweat. “Buffrix, can you heal her?”

The Koblin poked his head out around Hal’s leg. “No harm, Buffrix?”

Looking at Elora, Hal said, “No, she is a friend.”

“Buffrix still have little airy-self for healy-spells,” he warned. Buffrix ambled over to Elora and shook his gnarled wooden staff in the air. He raised his free, mittened hand and began to gyrate wildly while muttering.

Hal could feel the mana gather in the air and with a dim glow of purple-blue light, the spell went off. It coated Elora in a sparkling glow followed by dozens of crystalline motes of purple.

Before Hal’s very eyes, the many scratches and open wounds on Elora sealed up as if they had never occurred. With a nod of thanks to Hal, the Ranger stood on her own.

She tested her right leg, putting weight on it with only a slight wince. Turning to the koblin that healed her, she said, “Thank you….”

“Buffrix,” Hal provided.

“Thank you, Buffrix,” she corrected. “You have interesting friends, Hal.” She looked back across the cavern. “We can slip out easily enough, their patrols are lax and I’ve already cleared a few out of the way. If we are quick we can be out in a few minutes.”

Without turning to ask Hal’s opinion, or if he was going to bring his new friends, she stalked off down the sloping ramp.

They had gotten halfway down the ramp when Hal stopped Elora. “I can’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “They need our help, Elora.” His arm swept wide toward the various cages piled high like cargo on the docks of a busy port. “Buffrix’s koblin clan is held captive alongside many other people. The goblins use them as slaves.”

Elora sighed and shook her head. “I should have known. How do you plan to do that, Hal? You’re practically naked and can barely stop shivering. Even with your two friends, what do you think the four of us can do against a gaggle of goblins?”

“Is that what they’re called?” Hal asked, stifling his laugh.

“Yes, Hal. A gaggle of goblins, focus, please. There are dozens of them. You can’t honestly expect to fight all of them.”

Hal got as close as he dared to the ledge and did his best to ignore the fear that swooped through his gut. “So then the plan is to rescue as many people as possible but Buffrix thinks that if we can rescue two of his clansmen, they’ll be instrumental in bringing this whole place down.”

The entire cave was filled with scaffolding and level upon level of stacked rickety cages. It was a maze of tunnels and narrow pathways clearly designed for the ease of a goblin’s passage, not humans.

“Well, I’m obviously the quietest of us four,” Elora said, casting a glance at Buffrix and Lootlox. Lootlox waved pleasantly at her, she was nearly hopping with excitement at seeing two “uplanders.”

“I’m also the better fighter,” she added, casting a look at Hal as if she expected him to argue. “Which means if you’re absolutely sure you want to do this, I’ll help by going off on my own and freeing all I can.”

Hal nodded. It made sense. Elora had far higher skills and Levels than Hal. On her own could probably do quite a lot. That she made it inside without rousing the alarm said a lot. “I’ll take the koblins with me then,” Hal said.

“I was about to suggest that. Especially the healer there.” She nodded toward Buffrix, who looked suddenly very bashful and hid behind Hal. “There are four main sections that I was able to spy.” She moved up beside Hal and pointed at each area.

“A mostly empty area in the back of the cavern that way. Dozens of cages on the upper levels over there, and more below there. Finally, toward the mouth of the cave are some rooms filled with goblins. Naturally, we want to avoid those.”

“Where is the exit you found?” Hal asked.

“At the rear of the cave. The goblins must not know about it, or they’re overconfident. They’re goblins after all.” Elora looked at the two koblins. “No offense.”

“Stupid goblins,” Buffrix agreed.

Elora gave Hal a questioning look, all Hal could do was shrug.

“I’ll take the section of cages farthest from here, you take the near ones and we’ll meet at the rear of the cave. Okay?”

Hal nodded and was about to walk away when Elora reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “I nearly forgot.” She shut her eyes a moment, focusing and a prompt appeared.

Elora invites you to her Party.

Accept?

Accepting the invitation, an awareness bloomed in the back of his head. In the bottom-left quadrant of his vision where his HP, SP, and MP were was now another set of bars with Elora’s name above them.

Buffrix Eargone joins the Party.

Lootlox Bangpots joins the Party.

Two more sets of HP, SP, and MP bars appeared along with the new party members. After Buffrix joined the party, another bar appeared right next to each person’s name. This one was empty.

Motes of gold light bounced around the empty portion of each gauge.

Parties

Adventuring parties are as old as time. Most groups are limited to 5 total members. Party communication permits silent coordination over medium distances.

Parties of three or more unlock Ultimates.

Ultimates

Each person, when pressed to their limit is capable of unleashing extraordinary power. An ultimate is a reflection of their soul’s strength.

When in a party of 3 or more members, the Ultimate Generation Gauge is unlocked. Several actions increase Ultimate Generation, those that require particular skill fill the gauge faster. Once the gauge is full, you have access to your Ultimate. If you have no Ultimate, one will be created.

Together, Hal, Lootlox, and Buffrix crept down the ramp of natural stone down to a ramshackle bridge of rough boards that crossed over to the second level of cells.

Seeing that Hal had his weapons back, Elora gave one of her curved daggers to Lootlox before they split up. Buffrix held onto his gnarled staff.

Aside from Elora, each of the party members’ Levels were in the single digits. Hal was a Level 5 Novice, Buffrix a Level 6 Kobbiemage, Lootlox was a Level 4 Lootmage, and Elora was a Level 12 Ranger. No wonder she wanted to go off on her own.

<“Buffrix, I need you to be my lookout, can you do that?”> Hal asked the koblin, trying out the party communication for the first time. <“Keep quiet and let me know if you see anybody. Are you able to heal anybody if we need to?”>

Buffrix nodded, his one big green ear flopping about. <“Yes, airy-self low but Buffrix hand-lend Hal, never furrow-brow.”>

<“Lootlox, you’re with me.”> The koblin smacked her mask askew by saluting too forcefully and scampered up alongside Hal. And then, without a pause, climbed Hal and latched onto his back like a tiny backpack.

Hal was about to object when a prompt appeared.

Lootlox uses Kobbiepack.

+10 Insulation.

+10 Defense | +10 Magic Defense.

+30 Inventory.

You are no longer afflicted with Exhaustion (Lv.1).

Hal found that the koblin didn’t seem to affect his ability to move at all and with all those buffs, he hardly thought it wise to complain. Even Leveling Up hadn’t been enough to wipe away his exhaustion from the cold.

He could finally feel his fingers and toes again.

As they crossed the bridge, Hal leaned forward onto the balls of his feet and picked his footing carefully to avoid falling through one of the many weak spots. One wrong move and he’d pitch into the darkness.

He doubted Buffrix could heal a broken neck.

The first three cells Hal came across were empty. The fourth contained a young girl with dirty clothing and gaunt, bony features. Her blue eyes were dull and hopeless. She watched the pair without any thought that they might free her.

It broke Hal’s heart.

He immediately began to saw at the ropes holding two of the bamboo rods in place. They somehow leaped out at him as more important. Though Hal couldn’t have said why he felt that way.

Your Perception has risen to Level 2.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+4%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+10%).

In less than a minute, the bamboo rods were pulled out and Buffrix bundled them to set aside quietly while Hal ducked into the cage.

He held his left hand out to the little girl, the blade as far away from her as he could manage while keeping it in his right hand. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’re here to help. What’s your name?”

It didn’t matter. The little girl’s eyes snapped to the glint of metal and saw nothing else. She looked like she was about to scream.

Hal immediately stopped and backed up half a step. He put on his most reassuring smile. “My name is Hal, are your parents here? If they are, we’ll find them and bring you back to them.”

The little girl’s eyes widened, horrified and she shook her head fiercely. “Please, don’t.”

Hal’s brow crumpled. “You don’t want to go back to your parents?”

There was another spasm of fear across her tiny features. She hugged her knees to her chest and shook her head vehemently.

Hal’s heart sank.

“Okay, you don’t have to go back to them. I know some very nice friends that would take good care of you. Would you like to meet them?” Hal tried reaching his free hand toward her again.

She nodded timidly.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

The little girl reached out a too-skinny arm toward him and Hal’s hand swallowed hers whole. He pulled her to her feet and she staggered after him like a newborn deer. “Tilda.”

“Okay, Tilda. This here is Buffrix.” Hal shifted about so Tilda could see Lootlox hanging on his back. “And this is Lootlox, they’re going to help us get out of here and somewhere warm and safe.”

Buffrix performed a perfunctory bow. “Buffrix Eargone at your helpy-hand.”

Tilda covered her mouth to stifle a giggle at the silly sight of a half-naked man and two koblins. He was glad she didn’t scream and flail at seeing them. No doubt she saw the way the goblins treated them.

Hal did his best to hide his wince at the sound, hoping no goblins patrolling nearby heard. He smiled at Tilda, trying to be encouraging. He doubted she had much reason to make that sound lately.

“Right, Buffrix here is my very good friend.” Lootlox gave a little cough. “And so is Lootlox,” Hal added. He slipped out of the cage and offered Tilda’s hand to Buffrix. I need you to stay very quiet and keep Buffrix safe, can you do that?”

Tilda bobbed her head. Her clothes hung off her like she was made out of twigs. Even holding her hand felt like he might break it at the slightest pressure.

“We’re going to free more friends who will help us get out,” he told Tilda, keeping his voice low. To Buffrix he said, <“Keep her safe. She is frightened and might run off if she gets too scared, so stay with her okay?”>

Buffrix reached out a mitt toward Tilda. He was around a similar height and though the girl gave him her free hand, she didn’t let go of Hal.

When Hal tried to pull his hand away she gripped it harder. It was only once he looked at the gawking expression and dazzled look in her eyes that he realized what held her attention so completely.

She was staring at the mark on his forearm.

He waited a few seconds and gave her a reassuring smile. He had never been very good with kids but he found it easy to have patience with Tilda. Her eyes traveled up to meet his, Hal could see fear and uncertainty warring there.

“I’m not like the rest of the Founders,” he whispered, dropping to one knee. “But I need you to keep this a secret, okay? Most people aren’t as smart as you. They wouldn’t understand.”

Tilda’s eyes widened and brightened considerably at the offer to hold such a valuable secret. She nodded emphatically and shifted her clinging grasp to Buffrix.

The koblin wrapped a small arm around her thin shoulders and pet her gently.

Hal went to the nearest cage. Using Mana Investiture to shape a piece of bamboo, he created a crude bracer to cover his forearm and the mark.

He would have preferred to drop Tilda off with Elora, but he doubted he could find her. And even then, there were many more cages. There was not enough time to go back and forth with each captive.

I’ll clear and secure each floor, make sure there’s only one way up or down and set a few koblins to secure that level until I can reach the back of the cave where Elora wants to meet.

Together, they crept over to the next cage. Another koblin languished inside but when he saw Buffrix he hopped to his feet and scrambled over to the bars.

“You came to free Jabkix!” he squealed.

“You hear tongue-flaps?” a raspy goblin called from below.

“Go eye-peek,” another replied.

Hal put a finger to his lips. Both koblins quieted but it was already too late. He left the koblins there while Hal crept around the cages away from the noise of the rattling ladder far behind them.

Hal peeked around the edge of one cage in the tight corridor, its sleeping occupant unaware of his presence. The leather-clad goblin was nearly to Tilda’s cage.

He hoped he would notice the girl missing. It would be the chance he needed.

The goblin looked at it once, did a double-take, and then sprouted two arrows from its neck before it could fully turn to investigate.

Hal hurried around the cage to make sure the goblin was dead. But before he got there, another arrow streaked through the gloom, lodging itself in the goblin.

Through several rows of cages, Hal caught the swish of Elora’s green cloak as she disappeared into the gloom. The goblin’s corpse puffed into a cloud of purple smoke and swirled into Hal.

Instead of pain, Hal felt a sense of euphoria. A hunger for more.

Elora defeats the [Goblin Skirmisher].

You gain 100 Experience Points.

You absorb 10 Goblin Essence.

You obtain:

- [Goblin Mask]
- [Gobbiebag]
- [Suit of Goblin Leathers]
- [Bronze Kukri]
- 32 [Silver Gobbiecoins]
- [Koblin Mask]

Lootlox was fast at work grabbing the items that seemed to appear out of nowhere and stuffing them onto Hal. The [Gobbiebag] went first. Lootlox attached it to his hip and it just… stuck there.

Inventory

You have attained your first piece of magical storage. Expanded space allows for the accumulation of vast amounts of items in a single easy-to-carry item. Your [Gobbiebag] affords you 30 Inventory slots that can be used.

Most items received from defeating enemies will be deposited directly into your inventory. You can choose to bind the [Gobbiebag] to yourself, preventing its theft or damage. But doing so will make it impossible to trade the item afterward.

Would you like to bind the [Gobbiebag] to yourself?

After agreeing, the [Gobbiebag] vanished from his hip. He could still feel it as if it were a part of himself and with a thought, he could bring up his inventory to peruse the items within.

That’s handy.

[Inventory | 5/30 (+30)]

- [Goblin Mask]
- [Suit of Goblin Leathers]
- [Bronze Kukri]
- 32 [Silver Gobbiecoins]
- [Koblin Mask]

<“Thanks, Lootlox.”>

The koblin patted him on the shoulder. <“Only good gobbie, is dead gobbie,”> she intoned.

15

“What see?” a goblin from below called up.

Lootlox panicked and gripped Hal tightly, her voice came out at a much lower register, “Nothing eye-peeking here!”

The goblin below grumbled loudly but didn’t say anything more. His creaking footsteps trailed off.

Hal breathed a sigh of relief. <“Good job, Lootlox!”>

The tiny koblin patted him on the shoulder. <“Me do good fake tongue-flaps of goblin.”>

You mean you sound exactly like a goblin. Not that he’d ever say that aloud. It seemed better to let Lootlox go on believing she had a great skill at mimicking goblin voices.

<“Can you use any of the stuff I got, Lootlox?”>

<“Give to Buffrix,”> she said softly. <“Kobbie-leader could use. Lootlox safe on Hal’s back.”>

Making sure no other goblin was coming, Hal slipped back toward Buffrix and Tilda. He noticed that his SP was slowly draining. But if he stood still, it stopped.

<“Here, Buffrix, why don’t you take this stuff?”> Hal opened his inventory. When he mentally reached for the items they appeared in his hand. He gave the [Suit of Goblin Leathers] to Buffrix.

Buffrix took one look at them then shook his head. “No fit, wrong class.” But Hal noticed he didn’t hand the leathers back.

<“What about this?”> Hal asked, pulling out the [Koblin Mask]. Unlike its goblin counterpart, the glass lenses in the mask were an iridescent green instead of black.

The koblin gasped and snatched it out of Hal’s hands. <“This kobbie mask!”> He turned away from Hal, pulled the crude wooden mask off, and slipped on the leather [Koblin Mask].

Once they got back to Jabkix’s cage, Hal sawed through the ropes again and let him out. Jabkix leaped for freedom almost before Hal had made enough room. The koblin was surprisingly flexible though and slipped out without issue.

Quest Updated: Repay Buffrix!

You have managed to release Jabkix, now you must find Sparkspox and release her.

Objectives

- Break Buffrix’s clan out of the goblin prison.

- Destroy the goblin cave.

- Additional objectives available.

- Rescue Sparkspox.

- Rescue Jabkix (Complete).

- Kaboom?

Rewards

- 2,000 Experience Points.

- Koblin Reputation (Variable).

- Item: [Goblinbane].

- Additional rewards available.

Buffrix handed Jabkix – Hal still couldn’t get over the slightly adorable, slightly ridiculous names – the goblin leathers. The latter koblin made a sound of disgust but unlike Buffrix he wasn’t wearing much beyond a dirty blanket draped over himself and a wooden mask similar to what Buffrix had worn.

Hal offered the [Goblin Mask] as well. Fully outfitted, Jabkix looked a lot like any other goblin. The mask had what looked like a feedbag at first, attached to the end with a dozen small holes he guessed was for air filtration.

The whole thing looked like a low-tech gas mask, though surprisingly well-made. The eyes were covered in an obsidian glass as dark as pitch. Hal had no idea how the koblin could see out of it.

Side by side, Hal could tell the difference between them immediately. The [Koblin Mask] that Buffrix wore had colorful lenses for the eyes and there was embellishment to the leather, swirling stitched designs that the simple [Goblin Mask] lacked.

One of them seemed almost mass-produced while the other had individuality. Somebody had cared for the [Koblin Mask] and made it with a purpose suited to its owner.

The next three cages were much the same. Cut the ropes, slip out the bamboo, and rescue the prisoner.

Elora defeats the [Goblin Skirmisher].

You gain 0 Experience Points (-100% Contribution).

Elora defeats the [Goblin Wanderer].

You gain 0 Experience Points (-100% Contribution).

Your Stealth has risen to Level 2.

+1% Stealth success (+2%).

+1% Stealth speed (+2%).

-1% SP drain (-2%).

Elora’s really churning through those goblins. <“Elora, could you invite…”>

Hal looked at the tiny koblin wearing the goblin mask. “Jabkix… what’s your full name?”

Even braced for another ridiculous name, he wasn’t ready for the koblin’s reply. “Jabkix Pigeonpecs.”

Trying hard not to let a childish laugh of his own slip out - Tilda’s giggle was bad enough - Hal gave Elora Jabkix’s full name. His party information appeared a second later.

Together, Jabkix and Hal headed around the corner moving as quickly and quietly as they could. Though Sneaking forced them both to move at around a quarter of their usual speed.

Hal noticed when Jabkix crouched and entered Sneak, he seemed cloaked in shadows and was harder to see. He wondered if he looked like that to others.

Turning the corner, they ran straight into the back of a patrolling goblin. Purely on instinct, Hal whipped out with his chain and lunged forward with his falchion.

The chains wrapped around the goblin’s throat and pulled him back onto the thrusting blade. He met a slight resistance before the goblin fell limp and disappeared into a puff of purple smoke that he quickly absorbed.

Sneak Attack!

The [Goblin Watchman] takes 77 points of damage.

Additional Effect: Bleed, Suffocation.

The [Goblin Watchman] takes 22 points of bleed damage.

The [Goblin Watchman] takes 10 points of suffocation damage.

You defeat the [Goblin Watchman].

You gain 100 Experience Points.

You absorb 10 Goblin Essence.

You obtain:

- [Goblin Mask]
- [Suit of Goblin Leathers]
- [Koblin Mask]
- [Ash Crossbow]
- 12 [Gold Gobbiecoins]

You have learned Sneak Attack.

While Sneaking, attacking an unaware enemy will incur triple damage, heavily influenced by Stealth skill and DEX.

Your Stealth has risen to Level 3.

+1% Stealth success (+3%).

+1% Stealth speed (+3%).

-1% SP drain (-3%).

Hal couldn’t help but grin. That would come in quite handy, especially considering how weak he was. He needed all the help he could get. If he had to constantly strike from the shadows, that’s what he’d do if it meant surviving.

Lootlox received the [Koblin Mask] much to her joy and excitement. The lenses were tinted a rosy hue and there were several designs of thorny roses across the white leather.

<“Lootlox never eye-peek such kindness from uplanders before! Hal makes Lootlox blush!”>

The third level of cages took them nearly an hour to free. It was even harder keeping the dozen or so prisoners quiet. Consisting mostly of children and koblins, neither of which truly seemed to grasp the notion of “quiet.”

Four goblins guarded that level, and four goblins met their end. As their group expanded, it became quite unfair. Hal would lash out with his chain, snaring an unsuspecting goblin and drawing it in.

The koblins and few dirtied villagers strong enough to wield a reclaimed weapon vented their frustrations on their former captors.

He turned to address the dozen or so dirtied or masked faces. “Buffrix, myself, Lootlox, and Jabkix are going to the second level. I want everybody to buddy up in pairs and stay here until we give the all-clear.”

One by one the kids grouped up, not with each other, but each with a koblin. Even though Hal wasn’t fond of kids, he had to admit it was pretty adorable. “Stay with your buddy,” he said seriously.

Hal crept to the ladder, peeked over the edge, and spotted a patrolling goblin. He was tempted to leap over the side and perform a diving attack, impaling the goblin silently below in one fell swoop.

For the most part the adrenaline pumping in his veins kept the cold at bay but it was an ever-present dull pain that never quite fully went away. He was always aware of it, even if it was only dimly at times. The insulation that Lootlox provided helped stave off the worst of it.

Instead, he carefully waited until the goblin turned the corner and then made his way down the ladder as quietly as he could. He crept after the goblin, watching his footing and keeping it to the strongest looking boards. Though they seemed few and far between.

When Hal turned the corner, he found the goblin poking his rusty sword through the cage at a shivering koblin without a mask. It was cowering and hiding its face. The scene brought him up short.

Something snapped in Hal and he abandoned his plan to wait for Jabkix and Buffrix. He lunged forward, grabbing the goblin by the top of its mask. and He wrenched the small thing’s head back at the same time as he brought his [Deserter’s Falchion] across its exposed neck.

Sneak Attack!

The [Goblin Watchman] takes 77 points of damage.

Additional Effect: Silence, Bleeding.

The goblin wasn’t killed so easily. It, like every other goblin, had on a full suit of armor. Hal drew back his arm and chopped again and again while the goblin’s purplish blood misted into a cloud and painted the bamboo.

The goblin flailed about with its rusty sword, the surprise quickly wearing off as it realized what was going on.

Unable to call for help - an interesting effect Hal hoped was a result of using Sneak Attack on its throat - the goblin twisted this way and that trying to stab at his much larger attacker.

Its movements slowed and, like all the rest, eventually stilled. The goblin vanished into a cloud of purple smoke and Hal happily took his due.

The [Goblin Watchman] hits you for 17 points of damage.

You defeat the [Goblin Watchman].

You gain 100 Experience Points.

You absorb 10 Goblin Essence.

You obtain:

- 17 [Bronze Gobbiecoins]
- [Blood-Stained Notebook]
- [Suit of Goblin Leathers]
- [Rusty Sword]
- [Koblin Mask]

Your Sword Skill has risen to Level 2.

+1% Sword damage (+2%).

-0.25% Sword durability loss (-0.5%).

Without wasting another moment, Hal emptied the goblin items from his bag and thrust them through the bars into the cage. “Here you go, you can wear these. And here’s a Koblin Mask.”

All three koblins gasped.

The koblin in the cage sniffled and pulled on the mask. “It is lovely gift-give,” she said. “Lurklox Dhalmelneck will not forget this kindness!”

Right before his eyes, the koblin in the cage seemed to vanish. Then his eyes refocused and he found the koblin in the corner not more than four feet away doing something with the rags that coated the bottom of the cage.

“She is sneaksies,” whispered Buffrix. Hal took him at his word.

“Once we get you out of here, I want you to go up that ladder and wait for us,” Hal instructed Lurklox.

She looked at him, startled. “But Lurklox wanting to repay many-debts to man-thing! Give Lurklox weapon and she will kick-stab!”

“Shh! Okay, okay.” Hal summoned the [Bronze Kukri] from his inventory and handed it to her. “Take this then and be quiet.”

The koblin mimed zipping her mouth shut, which was only slightly ruined by the mask she wore. She reached down with her free hand and picked up a bundle of dirty rags. “Take, cover-hide shivering man-thing.”

Hal took the bundle in his free hand and examined it. Like his cloak he once had – and dearly missed – it provided 2 points of Insulation and nothing else. Shifting Lootlox off his back for a moment, he managed to don the [Rag Cloak].

The effect was immediate. He felt warmer. And he was no longer nearly naked. The cloak covered him down to his knees. He was still barefoot, but he doubted he would find a pair of shoes lying around.

Buffrix looked at him curiously. “Man-thing hurt? Want healy-spell?”

Hal nodded.

Buffrix laid his tiny mitts on Hal’s leg. He was once again bathed in shimmering purple-blue light, motes of crystalline purple floated about him. A familiar rush of warm air enveloped him and washed away what remained of the chill in his bones.

Buffrix casts Kobbiecure.

You recover 30 points of HP.

He felt refreshed and alert.

Lurklox proved to be very capable. With Lootlox’s approval, Hal had Elora invite Lurklox while Lootlox - these koblin names were going to give him an aneurysm - dropped from the party to make room.

The koblin Thief could vanish into the faintest shadow and strike faster than any viper.

Between Hal and Lurklox, they cleared the second floor of any goblins with twin Sneak Attacks. Jabkix and Buffrix dealt the finishing blow to any goblins that managed to cling to life.

Hal collected more suits of goblin armor and leathers than he could ever want. He passed them out to any Koblins he met, outfitting them with rusty weapons and crude short bows he gained after destroying and absorbing each goblin’s essence.

Not all of them disappeared into a cloud of smoke. And those that didn’t, remained behind as a lifeless corpse. That didn’t impact his ability to loot them but he gained no essence from those goblins.

As they freed more of the prisoners on the second level, Hal turned a corner and saw three goblins milling about. This was the last corridor on the second level. With quick instructions to Lurklox, Buffrix, and Jabkix, Hal slipped into the shadows, doing his best to move slowly and quietly.

Luckily, the goblins weren’t big on proper lighting. There were plenty of shadows to hide within.

Lurklox appeared behind one goblin suddenly. With a flurry of motion, Lurklox stabbed half a dozen times into the poor thing’s back before it even knew the koblin was there.

As the other two goblins turned to help their friend, Buffrix cast a paralysis spell. A swirl of sickly yellow energy fell upon one of the goblins. Jabkix leaped upon that one, his little legs flying out with startling force.

With a practiced motion, Hal whipped out his chains and wrapped them around the third goblin’s arm.

With a savage pull, he twisted the goblin about, just as Hal rammed it through with his falchion. He twisted the blade and yanked it out. In short order, all three goblins were defeated and three plumes of purple smoke absorbed into Hal’s outstretched palm.

The rush of monster essence felt different this time… more complete.

Lurklox uses Sneak Attack.

The [Goblin Patrolman] takes 107 points of damage.

Lurklox defeats the [Goblin Patrolman].

You gain 100 Experience Points.

You absorb 10 Goblin Essence.

Buffrix casts Paralyze.

The [Goblin Patrolman] suffers the effect of Paralysis.

Jabkix uses Whirlygig Kickalots.

The [Goblin Patrolman] takes 82 points of damage.

You gain 100 Experience Points.

You absorb 10 Goblin Essence.

Sneak Attack!

The [Goblin Patrolman] takes 79 points of damage.

You defeat the [Goblin Patrolman].

You gain 100 Experience Points.

You absorb 10 Goblin Essence.

Your Leadership has risen to Level 3.

+1% Party damage (3%).

+2% Leadership efficacy (6%).

Your Improvised Weaponry has risen to Level 3.

+2% Improvised Weapon damage (6%).

+2% Improvised Weapon attack speed (6%).

Your Stealth has risen to Level 4.

+1% Stealth success (+4%).

+1% Stealth speed (+4%).

-1% SP drain (-4%).

By the time Hal managed to get all the people from the third level down to the second, they had a ragtag group of nearly fifty people. Again, much to Hal’s dismay, they were mostly children and koblins. There were less than five adults.

Hal didn’t know what they were planning with the kids but he didn’t think he wanted to know. The rest of the spoils were passed out. Koblins reacquired missing masks and outfits. Most of the children wore little more than rags but Hal didn’t have the heart to suggest they wear goblin clothes.

They had been through enough without having to resemble their tormentors. Hal was just happy that they didn’t view the koblins the same as they did goblins.

A helmeted goblin poked his head up over a nearby ladder going down to the first level. Hal turned and cursed just as it let out a shrill scream. “Raise the noisy-bells! Raise the noisy-bells! Prisoners flee-footing!”

Buffrix was on him in a second, paralyzing him with a spell but the damage was already done. Unable to maintain its grip, the goblin fell down the ladder to the cavern’s floor in a clangorous cacophony as loud as any alarm bells might have been.

Which soon began to toll somewhere deep in the cave.

The cavern awoke with the clanging of many discordant bells and dozens of goblin voices letting out their own battle cries as they flooded in from all sides.

Hal could just see a narrow channel from his vantage point that ended in a rough gate of logs strapped together with a thick set of ropes. His eyes barely made out a goblin on a nearby rickety platform throw a lever. The gate slammed shut with a resounding bang, cutting off the main way out.

It didn’t matter that Hal had no intention of going out that way. The goblins were now roused and were out in force to stop them.

Their easy time of killing unaware goblins one at a time was over.

16

Hal rushed to the nearest ladder and cut it down quickly. He turned to the koblins. “Get everybody up onto the third level, cut all but one ladder and guard it! Do not let anybody up.”

Across the way, Hal could see Elora hunkered down with children and koblin of her own. Her arm was a blur as she nocked and fired one arrow after the other into the goblins that were flooding into the cavern.

He took a deep breath to center himself and hurried along the edges of the rickety platform. He nearly fell more than once but somehow managed to keep his balance. One ladder after the next was cut away with his falchion and fell to the ground floor below.

A prompt flashed across his vision as he rounded a narrow corridor.

Quest Updated: Repay Buffrix!

Only Sparkspox remains to be saved, she must be somewhere below. With the goblins out in force, there will be casualties if you do not stop them.

Objectives

- Break Buffrix’s clan out of the goblin prison.

- Destroy the goblin cave.

- Additional objectives available.

- Rescue Sparkspox.

- Rescue Jabkix.

- Kaboom?

- Do not let more than 10 koblins die in their cells (0/10).

Rewards

- 2,000 Experience Points.

- Koblin Reputation (Variable).

- Item: [Goblinbane].

- Additional rewards available.

Just what I need.

<“How is your side doing, Elora?”> Hal asked, cutting down another ladder and dropping three goblins to the floor below.

He knew he couldn’t keep this up. They would eventually put more ladders up than he could kick or cut down. But he had to stall for as much time as he could manage.

<“My side is finished,”> Elora said. <“Hal… there are a lot of prisoners. I don’t know if we can keep them all safe.”>

<“I know, I need you to cover me. I still haven’t gotten the first level cages open. If you can draw some attention your way, I’ll send some koblins over to you from the third level walkway. If you draw them away, I can take out the few goblins that manage to find me in the warrens below.”>

<“Send everybody to my side,”> Elora instructed. <“The ladders to the first floor are already cut and I can keep raining death from the third level.”>

<“You heard them, Buffrix, Jabkix, spread the word. Lurklox, you’re with me.”> Hal looked over his shoulder at the clinging Lootlox. “Now would be the time to bail, Lootlox. Things are about to get very dangerous.”

“Lootlox stays by Hal’s side!” she squeaked.

“As you wish.”

Hal met the first of the goblins down the main corridor between the towering stacks of rickety cells. The first heavily armored goblins slid to a halt and pulled out their swords. In their small hands, even a shortsword looked gigantic.

I really wish I had some magic, right about now. Oh right. I do.

With a grin, Hal fell to a crouch and used Enchainment. Leaping chains burst out of the bamboo bars, the floor, even the rickety planks that made up the ceiling. The trio of heavily armored goblins were snared in a web of chains.

With little more than a dirty sheet protecting him, Hal surged into their ranks. Lurklox was there, dispatching one after the other as their attention focused solely on Hal.

Hal stabbed at the sole remaining goblin, aiming for the thin gap between its breastplate and underarm. He felt the tear of flesh then immediately retracted his sword and set it to parry the coming blow.

Freed from the chains by Hal’s attack, the armored goblin was swinging as soon as possible. Hal barely managed to deflect the countering stroke as Lurklox slipped behind the goblin and finished it off.

Their bodies collapsed into smoke and Hal’s inventory filled with heavy goblin armor. But what caught his eye was the crimson mote of energy that flew from the recently slain goblin, straight into his chest.

Lurklox defeats the [Goblin Guardsman].

You gain 150 Experience Points.

You absorb 10 Goblin Essence.

Lurklox defeats the [Goblin Guardsman].

You gain 150 Experience Points.

You absorb 10 Goblin Essence.

Lurklox defeats the [Goblin Guardsman].

You gain 150 Experience Points.

You absorb 10 Goblin Essence.

You obtain:

- 3 [Gold Gobbiecoins]
- 3 [Goblin Helms]
- 3 [Suits of Goblin Armor]
- [Gobbiebag Patch]
- 2 [Poisonflour Loaves]
- [Iron Greataxe]

Novice reaches Level 6.

You have 5 unspent Attribute Points awaiting distribution.

Your HP, SP, and MP are fully restored.

Hal collapsed on the spot. Rather than feeling the euphoric rush of golden wind and revitalization that typically accompanied a Level Up, his veins burned with acid.

He could feel Lootlox on his back trying to rouse him but his body wouldn’t respond to his actions. Every muscle tensed so tightly he thought his bones might snap from the force.

A new gauge appeared above his HP as his body was wracked with agony. He saw the prompts fill his vision but could not even begin to read them. Hal struggled merely to stay conscious.

You learn Bomb Toss.

Throw a goblin-bomb at the enemy dealing Area of Effect (AOE) fire damage.

School: Beast Magic.

Type: Magical (Fire).

Family: Goblin (Beastmen).

MP: 40

BP: 2

Strain: 1

Damage: 15 (AOE).

Your Sword Skill has risen to Level 3.

+1% Sword damage (+3%).

-0.25% Sword durability loss (-0.75%).

Your Enfeebling Magic has risen to Level 2.

+1% Enfeebling success (+2%).

+2% Enfeebling duration (+4%).

You have unlocked Beast Magic (Level 0).

Beast Magic

A unique form of magic known only to those following in the footsteps of Chimera Knights and the fabled Beastborne. Beast Magic allows the wielder to tap into the ferocious power of fell monstrous magics previously exclusive to monsters.

Wielding Beast Magic comes with a price, however, non-monster bodies were not meant to wield such devastating magic and will experience hazardous side-effects if the wielder is not careful to manage their Strain levels.

You gain 10 Burden Points.

Burden Points are used to allocate Beast Magic spells. Each spell has a specific Burden Point cost (BP) that is incurred upon setting the spell. Spells can only be set once per day.

The body can only withstand so much foreign magic before it begins to succumb to corruption. As your powers grow, so too will your capacity to withstand the corrupting influence of such terrible magic. While it is possible to allocate more spells than your current capacity permits, doing so will inflict additional Strain, hastening your corruption.

Strain

Beast Magic, by its very nature, is caustic and corrupting. Non-monsters were never meant to be able to wield such magic and doing so has its own consequences. Each use of Beast Magic incurs an amount of strain on the wielder. The body automatically recovers from the corrupting nature of Beast Magic over time. Strain will dimish the more time has passed since the last use of Beast Magic.

Hal managed to get his body under control, coughing up blood onto the rickety platform. He stood and swayed as the world swam around him. To say he could feel the thrum of power in his veins would be an understatement.

Everything burned. Like fire was coursing through him. Changing him. And yet, the power he felt was undeniable.

As the world settled, he spied a koblin in the cell directly below him through a gap in the planks.

“Boom, boom, kaboom!” cried a voice from below. “Let me out to kick-slap!” It was a koblin with a sack over her head, two eyeholes were cut out of the cloth as she grasped the bars and strained against them. “My kobbieclan needs me!”

Without much time to think about it, Hal dropped his 5 attribute points into MND, bringing it up to 9. His MP jumped to 110, nearly giving him three casts of his new Beast Magic spell, Bomb Toss.

Setting Bomb Toss as a spell was as simple as thinking it. Getting to his feet, Hal began to pry up the boards above the koblin’s cage. The noise gathered the attention of the koblin.

Hal turned to Lurklox. “Find another way down, take out any goblins you find but don’t expose yourself needlessly. But first, once I’m down, I need you to put these boards back, okay?”

Lurklox nodded and saluted.

Hal turned to the shouting koblin. He didn’t have long before the goblins swarmed the second level again. “Stand back!” he called down to her and a moment later he dropped through the hole to the floor below.

The koblin looked at him curiously as Hal stood there, astounded he could take the fall so easily. He recovered quickly though and with one heavy swing of his sword, broke open the cage.

The koblin leaped out and darted past the new opening and down the corridor. Hal was hot on her heels. He redoubled his efforts to catch up to her once he saw the new Quest update.

Quest Updated: Repay Buffrix!

All of Buffrix’s immediate clan are freed. All that remains is to free the rest of the koblins. Destroy the goblin menace once and for all.

Objectives

- Break Buffrix’s clan out of the goblin prison.

- Destroy the goblin cave.

- Additional objectives available.

- Rescue Sparkspox (Complete).

- Rescue Jabkix (Complete).

- Kaboom?

- Do not let more than 10 koblins die in their cells (0/10).

Rewards

- 2,000 Experience Points.

- Koblin Reputation (Variable).

- Item: [Goblinbane].

- Additional rewards available.

- 500 Experience Points.

Running after the koblin, Hal slashed wildly with his sword, severing the cords holding shut the various cages. Without any need for subtlety or quiet, he could open them all with one heavy swipe of his sword.

The few goblins he ran into it were in full chase, following what had to be Sparkspox. As Hal came upon them from behind, he utilized Sneak Attack to deal substantial damage to them.

Those that didn’t fall immediately bled out shortly after but Hal already forgot about them. To his relief, the first level was exclusively filled with koblins. They rushed out and mobbed the few goblins that were hanging onto life by a thread and stripped them bare.

Hal offered what equipment he could. With each downed goblin, the koblins grew in number and were better equipped. They were forced to fight in small tight quarters, twisting tunnels beneath several creaking levels of hastily constructed cages.

They were turning the narrow spaces against the goblin’s greater numbers. They were winning.

17

Their luck was short-lived as Hal nearly bowled over tiny Sparkspox as he turned the corner. They were off in a side tunnel that twisted and opened into a large chamber with three exits at varying levels.

From the looks of it, they had run straight into the armory where dozens of goblins were busy donning full sets of heavy armor and snatching weapons from barrels along the walls.

With a thronging group of koblins at his back, Hal pressed forward. Reaching into himself, he gathered the mana for bomb toss.

Like using enchainment, the knowledge of how to enact the spell came to him instinctively. He tossed the swirling orb of mana as it coalesced into a gleaming metallic patchwork replica of a goblin bomb.

Its hissing wick sparked through the air. All eyes turned toward it as Hal triggered the explosive effect with a mental command. A sphere of rapidly expanding flame burst out from the center of the room.

You cast Bomb Toss.

The [Goblin Packmule] takes 15 points of damage.

The [Goblin Mercenary] takes 13 points of damage.

The [Goblin Skirmisher] takes 16 points of damage.

…

Your Beast Magic has risen to Level 2.

+3% Beast Magic potency (+6%).

Your Beast Magic has risen to Level 3.

+3% Beast Magic potency (+9%).

The list of scrolling damage automatically truncated, saving Hal’s vision from being utterly cluttered with the repeated list. Just in time too as a burning goblin wearing a bulbous pack and rusted plate armor rushed at him with its axe held high.

Hal picked off the attack with his falchion and was about to press a counterattack when he heard the hissing coming from the goblin’s bulbous backpack.

He lifted his leg and booted the goblin with all his might before turning on his heel and running away, trying to pull as many koblins along with him.

A flash of heat and unbelievable noise followed shortly after. Hal was carried on a wave of force that felt like he was hit by a bus. He was thrown clear of the melee and hit the ground with a painful crack.

Sound returned in fits and starts like he had partially lost his hearing and was only just getting it back. A moment later the familiar rush of a Level Up overtook him and his HP yo-yo’d from half back to full as the familiar golden wind swirled around him and revitalized him.

Hal only glanced at his log, noticing the rolling notifications of loot and EXP. I guess kicking an explosive into a group of goblins counts the same as fighting them.

It didn’t seem the most honorable thing in the world but he’d take any edge he could get.

With 5 more points to spend, Hal placed them into INT. The damage from bomb toss was only respectable because of the sheer number it hit and the destructive chain reaction it caused. On its own, 15 damage was a little less than a good hit with his sword.

It seemed that hitting so many targets at once skyrocketed the skill gain of Beast Magic too.

Hal struggled to his feet and gawked at the devastation before him.

Where had once stood dozens of goblins was now a blackened circle roughly twenty feet wide. Goblin bodies were strewn about, and Hal noticed with a stab of guilt some koblins as well but the goblins bore the overwhelming brunt of the explosion.

Parts of the cave had collapsed, closing off the left-half of the room and two of the three exits. The room was filled with smoke, making it hard to accurately count the bodies.

While the EXP rolled in, Hal noticed a single goblin body exploded into purple-black plumes of smoke. Curiously, the koblin bodies didn’t explode. That made him feel the loss that much more.

“Quick-think man-thing saved kobbies from kaboom-boom!” a koblin cried out, its voice soon joined by a throng of surging koblins that swarmed around him.

“Savior man-thing!” the sack-wearing koblin called, tugging at his hand, “Holding-holes have been emptied, Sparkspox has brain-fruit if savior man-thing will listen?”

I’m going to get a stroke listening to these people.

“Go ahead.” Now that the cells were clearing, he could enact the second part of the plan that he hoped would work.

“Sparkspox knows recipe for boom-powder, gobbies hold-fast door. If savior man-thing opens, Sparkspox make big boom, gobbies reduce to smolder-dust!” She motioned at the smoldering ruins of the room before them. “Like Savior man-thing do here but bigger. Muchly bigger.”

“There’s another room with explosives?” Hal asked.

Sparkspox nodded, then looked at the room ahead. “Savior man-thing, is muchly important. Please to not kaboom-boom other room.”

Hal felt a stab of guilt looking at all the damage. He turned to Sparkspox. “Show me.”

Armed with an idea, he said, <“Elora, how are you doing?”>

Elora’s reply was strained, <“I’ve got most of the koblins and kids back here with me, but a few goblins have discovered us. There’s a natural bottleneck but if they become too many we’ll be cut off from any more you send my way. Why?”>

Hal explained his plan to Elora, and how it was crucial that everybody be in the back of the cave and away from the cages.

<“Buffrix do this thing!”> the little koblin shouted over their party communication.

Sparkspox brought Hal around to the rear of the cave. Already Hal could see Buffrix hard at work, shepherding the koblins and their small charges to the far wall. Some of the children looked up, a few pointed at Hal’s appearance but nobody approached him.

From the rear of the stacks of cages, Hal could get a better idea for how it was put together. As much as he hurried before, he had missed a lot of detail. Now that he wasn’t worried about a goblin raising the alarm – been there, done that – he could pay closer attention.

He found it much easier to focus and notice things that otherwise would have slipped his scrutiny. The notification only served to bolster his belief that he had been right to increase his INT further.

Your Investigation has risen to Level 2.

+1% Investigation speed (+2%).

+2% Investigation success (+4%).

There were narrow gaps between the cages at the ground level and deep within he spied a few thick stalagmites that the goblins used as pillars to anchor their shoddy construction to.

If he could get his hands on a couple of explosives and plant them at the base of a few pillars, he might be able to cause all the cages to come tumbling down. And if he did it so that the front section came down first, the whole construction should tumble down in a tidal wave of sharp broken wood and stone.

All Elora and the koblins had to do was hold the line a little longer.

“This way, Savior-Manthing,” Sparkspox called, slipping through a gap between two cells barely large enough for Hal.

He reached back and took hold of Lootlox. “I need you to go to Elora and Buffrix to help them, can you do that for me?”

Lootlox looked like she was going to object but finally nodded. “Savior man-thing has big brain-case. Lootlox will do this thing.”

She hopped down and scurried off through the winding passages toward Buffrix. A line of koblins was threading that way, heading off the goblins that had found the place and pushing them back so more could join.

Hal turned back to the narrow gap and pressed through.

It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic.

Bent nails and jagged splinters jabbed out at him. They left small cuts in his skin and ripped the rags he wore until they fluttered and hung off him by a few scant strips.

They came across several crossroads that were barely lit by dim torchlight. The koblin seemed to take paths through the cells at random until they emerged not out into the open but at a flat rock wall.

Unlike the rest of the cave, which was rough, this section of the wall before Hal was straight and smooth. His perception immediately limned the frame of a door in soft blue.

Your Perception has risen to Level 3.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+6%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+15%).

“It’s a magical door,” Hal blurted out.

The koblin looked back at him. “Savior man-thing has quick-think brain-case!” she said sarcastically. “Yes, door is hold-fast.” Sparkspox knocked on the stone as if to prove her point.

Hal wasn’t entirely sure what Sparkspox expected him to do. After examining it for a full minute, he noticed a small depression in the center of the door. A tiny slot for a key, perhaps.

Sparkspox moved out of the way as Hal knelt down to get a better look. He wasn’t sure how difficult getting the door open with Mana Investiture would be. If it was like Ashera’s collar, or even worse, then it would bottom out his MP when he needed it sorely for his spells.

He rooted around on the cave floor a few moments before he found a loose nail and just as he was about to try – rather ineptly – to jimmy the lock open, a small mitt smacked his hand away.

“Psshkoh! What is savior man-thing doing? Want die? Leave lock-tricking to Thieves like Lurklox! Shoo, shoo!” Hal backed up and dropped the nail, which the koblin expertly scooped up in its mitt.

“Where’d you come from, Lurklox?”

The koblin bent to the task, fidgeting the nail and something else he couldn’t see into the tiny hole. “Am watching savior man-thing’s back! Gobbies sneaksy. Lurklox sneaksier.”

Hal didn’t know what to say. He was moved that the koblin would take his protection so seriously. “Thank you, Lurklox.” The koblin looked over its shoulder, regarding him curiously as if gratitude was a foreign concept.

Not to mention the koblin likely saved his life because just as Lurklox was fiddling with the lock, Hal heard something click from deep within the stone door. A red glowing line split the door in half and Hal barely managed to get out of the way before a gout of flame flashed down the cramped corridor.

The [Ignition Trap] hits you for 12 points of damage.

Hal’s arm was singed with a long line of angry red skin. It looked like the worst sunburn he ever had and felt like he’d been whipped by fire.

Off to the side, he found Sparkspox. The koblin was a little shaken but otherwise fine. Hal’s eyes followed the glowing line of rapidly cooling stone at their feet straight to the Thief, Lurklox.

The koblin laid on her side where the line ended, a wide scorch mark on the koblin’s leather armor. Hal rushed over immediately and knelt by the koblin, mindful of the hot stone. “Lurklox, are you okay?”

Her HP was barely a quarter of its full bar.

The koblin made a rasping sound in her leather mask and lifted one mittened hand, giving Hal a thumbs up. “Savior man-thing no furrow-brow at Lurklox. Lurklox stronger than stupid gobbie trap. Go. Lurklox rest.”

The koblin hardly looked ready to go walking around on her own. He deliberated between bringing the koblin to Buffrix or pressing on without the Thief. Time was not on their side and he doubted he could find his way out of the maze of corridors, let alone find Buffrix in time.

“Can you hold onto me?” Hal asked the koblin.

Lurklox looked like she was about to argue but then simply nodded. That alone spoke volumes for how weak she was.

Hal picked the koblin up, surprised at how easy it was, and shimmied the small Thief onto his back. It feels like I’m swapping one koblin backpack for another.

Lootlox’s absence was keenly felt. The scant insulation from his tattered cloak wasn’t enough to stave off the cold. Any moment he expected to get hit with the exhaustion status effect once more.

You suffer the effect of Biting Cold.

Without proper insulation, the cold is seeping in. Warm yourself up or increase your insulation to avoid increasingly detrimental debuffs.

Hal rejoined Sparkspox who had opened the stone door and entered the small chamber within. Lurklox held onto his shoulders. Lurklox was a lot larger than Lootlox and couldn’t hold on as tightly either, so Hal hooked his arms beneath the koblin’s knees like he was giving his little cousin a piggyback ride.

The room was dimly lit by glowing, cubic stones resting in stone bowls atop wooden tripods. Sparkspox reached over and grabbed a stone, chafing it and then returning it to the bowl.

The room surged with light.

As soon as Hal walked inside, he recognized the acrid smell of gunpowder that spilled from various sacks and small wooden boxes trickling the dark granules onto the floor.

Sparkspox opened a sack and scooped up a handful. Hal couldn’t see the koblin’s eyes but he could imagine the wide-eyed, almost manic look of a pyromaniac from Sparkspox’s voice alone. “Psshkoh…yes, Sparkspox will make all gobbies smolder-dust with this….”

Hal was a little worried at what he’d just unleashed.

18

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Hal asked Sparkspox.

“Savior-Manthing don’t furrow-brow! Sparkspox is bestest tinker-smith! Let Sparkspox work.”

After Hal and Sparkspox had found the cache of gunpowder – and, unfortunately not much else – they had gathered up as much of the stuff as they could in large sacks and headed to each of the pillars that supported the entire structure of the three-story holding cells.

Sparkspox had assured Hal that they could knock them out easily with a few quick explosions, but Hal wasn’t quite so sure. Now that the plan was nearly ready, he worried that he’d oversimplified the whole thing.

Typically, it was the work of several very capable engineers that did demolition work. Not some college dropout and a koblin that didn’t seem to use their fingers.

Hal had no clue how Sparkspox could be so adept while using mitts.

Despite his misgivings, the koblin quickly cobbled together something that looked quite a lot like a cartoonish bomb out of patched and bent plates of metal with a long wick sticking out of the top.

It looked a lot like the bomb from Bomb Toss, now that he thought about it. That didn’t ease his concerns.

Lurklox had managed to stay alert enough to hold on but not much else.

“Savior man-thing can go, fast-walk koblins away from boom-zone! Sparkspox reduce gobbies to smolder-dust and save clan! Then Sparkspox be savior!” The koblin looked up from the makeshift bomb at Hal. “Savior man-thing help koblins. Treat as equals. Kobbies not forget.”

Hal would have liked to leave it at that but as soon as he turned to go he realized he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to where they were. He turned back to Sparkspox and opened his mouth, but the koblin answered before he could ask. “Straight, left, left, right, straight.”

Following the instructions, Hal slipped through the narrow gaps between the cells on the first level and came out toward the rear of the chamber. Straight into a pitched battle.

“Good of you to grace us with your presence,” Elora said from up above, perched on a jut of stone. She blatantly ignored their party link. “Are you going to tell me your grand plan now? Because your loyal little foot soldiers are convinced you’re going to wave your hand and decimate the coming tide of goblins.”

Hal surveyed the scene and found her assessment painfully correct. The koblins were losing, badly. But they weren’t being slaughtered. They gave ground willingly, which Hal realized was a smart move. It stretched the goblins out, forcing them to battle the koblins in small pockets rather than in a fierce, tight melee at the entrance as they had.

And the koblins were retreating - tactically it seemed - to allow the last trickle of freed koblins to join them before the bottleneck was completely filled with enemy goblins.

Elora pulled back the bowstring to her chin and let fly another arrow. It took a nearby goblin in the eye, shattering the obsidian disk on its mask. It fell just behind Hal. “You really are hopeless without me,” she said with a taunting laugh.

Elora fit another arrow and fired into the goblin horde, leaving Hal to finish off the one she’d laid low.

Hal spun just at the goblin was getting up. It brandished the knife it had intended for his back at him threateningly. That familiar curl of flame ignited in his belly. Had the goblin found its mark it likely would have killed Lurklox who was still clinging to his back.

Hal stepped in, heedless of the danger, and batted the small dagger aside. He cut two gashes into the goblin’s leather armor. Purple blood began to seep from the rents in the armor.

The goblin lunged at him with the dagger, Hal barely managed to bring his blade up in time to parry it. “Uplander doom is near-soon!” the goblin cried and rushed in with a flurry of vicious stabs.

The [Goblin Bandit] uses Goblin Rush.

Hal saw it coming. Something about it seemed to beckon to him. Hal stepped into the strikes, batted two of the five aside, and bore the brunt of the brutal pierces as his already tattered clothes bloomed with spots of crimson.

You take 38 points of damage.

Gonna feel that in the morning.

It had hurt less than he expected. It was still excruciating but it was somehow tolerable in a way that Hal couldn’t quite put his finger on. A glance at his HP showed him still over 50%.

Hal staggered into the opening left behind by the attack and carved with all his might into one of the small gashes he had made. The goblin shuddered once, twice, and exploded into a series of small puffs of sparking smoke.

You defeat the [Goblin Bandit].

You gain 100 Experience Points.

You absorb 10 Goblin Essence.

You learn Goblin Rush.

Lunge forward, launching a frantic series of critical attacks.

School: Beast Magic.

Type: Physical (Slashing).

Family: Goblin (Beastmen).

MP: 35

BP: 3

Strain: 2

Damage: 25

Your Sword Skill has risen to Level 4.

+1% Sword damage (+4%).

-0.25% Sword durability loss (-1.0%).

Your Parry Skill has risen to Level 2.

+1% Parry success (+2%).

-1% Parry stamina cost (-2%).

You obtain:

- [Goblin Mask]
- 7 [Silver Gobbiecoins]
- [Iron Dagger]

Hal placed a hand against a bleeding wound. He shut his eyes for a moment and focused. Even with his eyes shut he could see his HP, MP, and SP. Aside from HP, the other two were full, with SP hovering around 80%.

He remembered using assimilation back in the prison with Ashera, at that point it had been an unconscious thing. Now, he tried to conjure it again in an attempt to convert his SP into HP and heal his wounds.

You use Assimilation.

You recover 38 points of HP.

You consume 84 points of SP.

Hal swooned and staggered back.

It had wiped out nearly every ounce of SP he had. He could feel an intense itching sensation as the stab wounds sealed up and closed.

A quick look confirmed his suspicions. Moving the stained cloth aside, Hal saw fresh, pink skin where an open wound should have been.

That’s useful.

He quickly set Goblin Rush as a spell. Luckily, it worked. It seemed the restriction to setting Beast Magic spells once a day didn’t apply to new spells.

<“If you’re done admiring yourself,”> Elora’s party communication easily cut through the clang of metal on metal around him. <“I think you should get on with this plan of yours. You do have a plan, don’t you?”>

Hal nodded, then noticed she had resumed firing into the crowd of goblins and couldn’t see him.

<“Yes, I do. Get down from there and head to the rear of the room. We’re going to retreat.”>

<“You first, I’m not leaving without you, Hal.”> Elora hopped down, stuck the three-point landing, and began to fire wildly after she stood up. There was a heavy arc to each shot so that each arrow fell among the goblins like rain.

Among all of them, Elora’s Ultimate was nearly full. Every time her bow twanged and an arrow hit its mark, the golden glowing bar filled a little more until it filled completely before Hal’s eyes.

It flashed briefly and then continued to give off a pulsing golden glow.

Hal turned his attention back to the battle and cupped his hands to his mouth. He shouted for the koblins to fall back to him. A few heard him and were quick to obey but many others at the front couldn’t disengage or hadn’t heard him.

Hal hurried to the nearest koblin, calling them forward rather than to retreat. He lobbed a Bomb Toss into a cluster of goblins. It wasn’t enough to kill them, but he smiled as the damage sowed chaos among the goblin ranks, buying time for his koblins to retreat.

Not only that, but the damage had increased to an average of 24, up from 15. Increasing his INT seemed to have a stark effect on his Beast Magic.

With an eye on the goblin force, Hal led a gathered group of koblins in a wedge pattern through the fray, ordering them to pick up any wounded they could along the way and those that couldn’t to arm themselves with fallen goblin weapons.

The koblins happily obliged and Hal quickly found himself at the frontlines where the casualties had been most severe. His heart sank to see all the still koblin bodies and the way the goblins hacked at them with glee or trampled them without care.

The curl of flame in his belly surged to a roaring fire.

Hal’s lip curled back in a soundless snarl and he cast Bomb Toss, chucking the fiery explosive into the thickest set of goblins. More than a few screams echoed as goblin bombs strapped to a few soldiers caught fire.

A rippling chain of explosions rocked the battlefield as one goblin bomb carrier after the other disintegrated everything within twenty feet.

As Hal rallied the last of the koblins to him, he became the focus of the goblin’s ire. They rushed his position, freely able to do so now that the koblins had all fallen back to him.

The first goblin to come across Hal was cut down by three different blades all striking as one, like shadows of his own assault they fell a fraction of a second after Hal’s stroke.

You cast Goblin Rush.

The [Goblin Skirmisher] takes 95 points of damage.

You defeat the [Goblin Skirmisher].

You gain 100 Experience Points.

Your Beast Magic has risen to Level 4.

+3% Beast Magic potency (+12%).

You obtain:

- [Goblin Mask]

- [Suit of Goblin Mail]

The goblin was dead before the last blade fell.

Hal was about to surge ahead, carried away by his battle lust, when a koblin hand grabbed at him. The rush of power from using Beast Magic was intoxicating. “Savior man-thing must quick-hop away!”

With only 5 MP left, Hal was grateful for the koblin’s interruption. He would have charged ahead into the goblins stupidly and without any more magic to throw at them.

Beast Magic’s dangers seemed more subtle than he first thought if they could influence his thinking like that.

Clearheaded once more, Hal bellowed out the order to retreat and along with the koblins, turned tail and ran toward the rear of the cave. He could only hope that Sparkspox could hear or see them. It hit him then that he had no way to signal the koblin to light the fuse.

Better plans have fallen apart from less.

While the goblins recovered from their shock and Hal worked his mind furiously for a backup plan, any backup plan, a loud series of explosions rocked the cavern.

Stalactites dislodged from the ceiling and fell as deadly projectiles that Hal had to dodge and avoid as the floor shook with the force of the explosions.

Looking over his shoulder, Hal saw smoke and flame rising up the cobbled-together cells. Their support gone, most of the lower level blasted to ash, the great ramshackle mess began to tilt with unnerving slowness.

If the goblins noticed, they paid it no mind as they rushed headlong toward the bottleneck at the back of the cave. Another series of explosions shook the cavern, less than the first this time, quickly followed by a deafening clatter of splintering wood and creaking timbers.

The goblin cries were drowned out by the layered, repeating shimmering golden wind that wrapped itself around Hal as he Leveled Up over and over again. The prompts flashed, large and bold across his vision in a hail of golden, scintillating light.

Tucked away in the glut of prompts, Hal saw a few Level Ups for Elora as well.

All the koblins gave him a wide berth, staring at the strange man-thing that shimmered and glittered like a sparkling tornado in their midst. Briefly, Hal wondered if he could OD from the heady effects of Leveling Up.

Novice reaches Level 10.

You have 15 unspent Attribute Points awaiting distribution.

Your HP, SP, and MP are fully restored.

You absorb 160 Goblin Essence.

You obtain:

- 74 [Goblin Masks]
- 61 [Suits of Goblin Leathers]
- 56 [Suits of Goblin Armor]
- 44 [Goblin Helms]
- 2 [Gobbiebag Patches]
- 15 [Poisonflour Loaves]
- 20 [Gold Gobbiecoins]
- 45 [Silver Gobbiecoins]
- 97 [Bronze Gobbiecoins]
- 17 [Koblin Masks]
- 19 [Suits of Koblin Leathers]
- 13 [Koblin Helms]
- 13 [Suits of Koblin Armor]
- 4 [Ash Crossbows]
- 4 [Ironwood Crossbows]
- 4 [Shortbows]
- [Repeating Crossbow]
- 32 [Rusty Shortswords]
- 40 [Rusty Daggers]
- 26 [Rusty Longswords]
- 2 [Steel Longswords]
- [Simple Cloak]
- 9 [Adventurer’s Kits]
- 4 [Simple Packs]
- 2 [Locked Chests]

Hal’s light show ended, and the cave seemed darker and drearier by far. Quiet washed into the space left by his multitudinous Level Ups. For what felt like minutes there was nothing but the creak and splintering of wood as the whole mass of burning, smoldering wreckage settled into place.

If any goblins survived, they didn’t make themselves known.

When the dust settled, Hal realized a flaw in his plan. The explosion had just caused an avalanche aimed at the goblins. Who had been right in front of the main exit.

Seeing the devastation firsthand, Hal realized how much farther the wreckage spread. It had spilled out all over the cavern floor with only a small few gaps towards the rear of the cave sheltered by the bottleneck of raised stone.

Everywhere else – the entrance included – was strewn with sharp splintered wood. They had effectively barricaded the entrance.

Elora came up beside Hal, tossing him an uncharacteristic grin. “Seeing as you’ve dealt with the goblin threat, how about I clear the way? The rear exit will take many hours to guide everybody through otherwise.”

Hal gave her a strange look. It would take a team of bulldozers to plow through that mess.

The Ranger winked at him playfully. A hint of a smile still tugging at her lips. She stepped lightly to the first pile of debris, rested one heavy boot on the mess, and drew her bow back.

Elora readies Ultimate: Empyreal Arrow.

Elora pulled farther back on the bowstring than he’d ever seen. Her arm shook with the effort.

The bow shone like the sun. The arrow she had knocked became solid golden light that thickened and doubled in size every second as the bar above her HP drained.

A warm wind buffeted Elora’s body, pushing dust and debris away from her in a ten-foot-wide circle. Hal raised his arm to block out the dust from getting into his eyes, watching the Ranger in awe. Once the arrow was as thick around as a young tree, she released it.

Elora uses Ultimate: Empyreal Arrow.

The arrow widened exponentially into a golden stream over thirty feet wide and at least as tall. It burned through the rubble like a match set to dry kindling. Everything it touched turned to ash and drifted away on tiny motes of light.

Even the heavy log gates the goblins had shut were vaporized by the assault. Daylight filtered in at the end of the long tunnel, barely visible all the way back in the cavern.

It was only then that Hal realized he had been holding his breath the entire time. “You have got to show me how to do that.”

19

As much as Hal wanted to be upset about Elora’s use of her ultimate, he knew his argument held zero weight. Her ultimate was only available recently and even though he would have preferred her to use it on the goblins, Hal understood the reality of it.

Such a flashy, ability would have garnered Elora a great deal of attention. And even if the goblins didn’t move out of the way, she would not have been able to get all of the goblins without also getting more than a few koblins.

He couldn’t have it both ways.

Hal let the sense of loss and anger bleed out of him. The memory of the koblin bodies still bothered him, though. At least the children hadn’t been harmed.

Any more than they already were, he thought with a pang of sympathy.

Elora looked… drained was the only word for it. She was sluggish in recognizing Hal and when he came near, she nearly collapsed against him.

Hal had his hands full trying to keep Lurklox on his back and now with Elora leaning against him, he couldn’t move without causing somebody to fall.

“That was amazing, Elora,” Hal said. His voice seemed to draw her back to full attention. Her blue-gray eyes were slightly unfocused as she looked up at him.

With a shake of her head, she managed to pull herself upright. Only then did she realize Lurklox was on Hal’s back. “Let me help.” Elora shouldered her bow and reached out to pluck the unconscious koblin from his back.

“Thank you.” Fear caused his heart to pound against his chest. Please be okay.

Though Lurklox wasn’t losing anymore HP, he was still worried that the koblin hadn’t regained consciousness.

Elora nodded, a look of sympathy on her dirty, blood-streaked features.

“Buffrix? Where’s Buffrix?” Hal called out, realizing now that he hadn’t seen the koblin since the pitched and frenetic battle. A look at his party menu showed him that the koblin wasn’t hurt but he couldn’t see him among the thinning smoke.

Despite the Level Ups, Hal was so tired. He didn’t have the energy to go looking for the koblin, not yet at least.

Finding a small rocky outcropping on the cavern floor away from most of the thronging children and koblins, Hal sat down and looked over his stats.

[Status]

Hal Williams

Level: 10

Discordant Stone: 376/55,000

Strain: 0/25

BP: 5/10

Classes

Novice: 10

Resources

HP: 130/130

SP: 135/135

MP: 150/150

Attributes

STR: 5

VIT: 5

DEX: 5

AGI: 5 (+1)

INT: 12

MND: 9

CHR: 1

Regeneration

HP/hr: 16.6

SP/hr: 19.2

MP/hr: 22.1

Resistances

Fire: 0

Ice: 0

Wind: 0

Earth: 0

Lightning: 0

Water: 0

Light: 0

Dark: 0

Defensive Properties

DEF: 0

MDEF: 0

Insulation: 4

Monster Affinity

Beastmen

Goblin: 300%

Class Affinity

Chimera Knight: 70%

Thief: 65%

Warrior: 45%

Oathforger: 20%

Survival Skills

Stealth: 4

Darkvision: 3

Perception: 3

Investigation: 2

Combat Skills

Improvised Weaponry: 3

Sword: 4

Parry: 1

Magic Skills

Enfeebling: 2

Beast Magic: 4

Crafting Skills

Social Skills

Leadership: 3

Persuasion: 1

Hal’s heart jumped into his throat at the sight of his EXP.

Thankfully, he was spared a heart attack by a new prompt that rolled in, nagging him to examine it.

You have unlocked the Discordant Stone.

Upon reaching Level 10 Novice, the discordant stone is unlocked. This stone stores experience points so they can be utilized later. As Novice Level 10 is a requirement for any additional Classes, you cannot attain a higher Novice Level. Any gained experience is stored within the discordant stone.

At any point outside of combat, you may allocate your stored experience within the discordant stone to any Class you currently have acquired. Doing so will initiate a Level Up. Each subsequent Level Up administered in this way will have its healing potency reduced by half.

You have unlocked Focused Class.

A Focused Class is capable of being set once per day. All experience earned is automatically applied to that Class and Level Ups occur whenever a threshold is breached. Experience gained cannot be used for any other Class but there is no downside to multiple Level Ups on the same day.

You have unlocked Classes.

Upon fulfilling the prerequisites and attaining 100% Class Affinity, you may become another Class.

Hal saw no way to make the change to a Focused Class, but he supposed that made sense as he couldn’t raise Novice any higher. He made a mental note to ask Elora about it later.

As a native, she would have a better understanding and with any luck could provide some valuable insight.

Holding true to his previous priority, Hal brought CHR up to 5. His remaining 11 points, he mulled over. His magic had proved invaluable more than once. And Beast Magic, in particular, felt quite powerful.

He could not ignore the allure of gaining new spells, not by studying in a boring tower but by going out into the wilds and fighting different types of monsters.

If he found a dragon, could he fight it and get dragon breath powers? Flight? The potential seemed limitless and full of adventure.

The strain mechanic was worrying but aside from a slight sensation of nausea while he cast Beast Magic, it didn’t seem to cause an issue. Glancing at his newly acquired resource bar, it was already at 0.

Raising his INT 5 points had increased Bomb Toss’ damage about 9 points. And with Beast Magic’s potency growth, it seemed like the path of the mage was beckoning him.

In the short time since he gained Beast Magic, Hal managed to get it to the same Level as Stealth. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to skulk around in the shadows. While it was fun - and undeniably effective - at first, it felt limiting.

Every attack had to be done from a place of ambush or surprise. If he was caught out, his Sneak Attack would be useless. Which meant to be effective, he would have to invest progressively more time and stats into improving his Sneak Attack.

At a minimum that seemed to be increasing his Stealth, and three stats; DEX, AGI, STR. DEX for the obvious boost to Sneak Attack, AGI so he had more stamina to Sneak longer and for the speed boost, and STR to raise his base damage.

On the other hand, he had magic. It only required INT and MND to be raised along with the relevant skill.

Hal dropped a point into MND, bringing it to a nice round 10. Then he took it out as he noticed a strange shift in his MP regeneration rate. Instead of going up a point or two, it jumped from 22.1 to 26.

So maybe a base of 10 is better than a base of 5… or there are tiers and every 10 or so Levels the boost is larger?

Shaking his head, Hal put his MND back up to 10.

With 3 spells at his disposal now, he would need all the MP he could get his hands on. At 155 MP he could cast 3 bomb tosses and 1 goblin rush.

Each point of MND gave 5 MP, which meant for every additional cast of either spell he would need to assign 7 or 8 points to MND to get another. His MP regen would go up as well, reducing the time he needed to wait between spells.

But with the careful allotment of attribute points, he could significantly increase the power of his spells. And by doing so, need to cast them less. Which meant more MP to spare and less Strain accumulated.

He had a choice to make. Either he could dedicate himself to magic and the amazing potential Beast Magic offered, or he could hold himself back. Assess his options one by one… and let his whole life pass him by while he thought out each potential path.

That was the old Hal, he insisted.

The last of his attribute points went into INT, raising it to 22. He wasn’t going to second-guess himself. Not anymore.

The familiar voice of Buffrix drew Hal’s attention to the left where the koblin was making his way through his fellows. “Savior man-thing need-calls Buffrix, scuttle-feet aside!”

Once the koblin got to him, Hal looked over where Elora laid Lurklox. The koblin nodded and immediately fell into his spellcasting. “Lurklox has lives of cat,” he said to Hal. “Will be back to sneaksies tricks near-soon!”

Purple-blue light washed over the little Thief and Hal could see the way the koblin’s chest rose more fully. Her HP filled up, only to half but it was enough.

Buffrix’s healing magic would be in high demand before they could leave the cave. Hal breathed a sigh of relief.

When Hal looked up from Buffrix and Lurklox, he noticed well over a hundred of the gathered koblins, children, and the few surviving adults were looking at him. Even Elora watched him. Were they expecting him to have some sort of speech?

He caught a glimmer of amusement in Elora’s eyes.

<“You saved them. They’re your responsibility now. What will you do with them?”> she asked.

Hal had to admit he hadn’t really thought of that. His focus had always been one immediate problem after the next. Freeing everybody and surviving hadn’t – if he was being honest with himself – actually seemed like a feasible outcome.

Not one he’d live to see at least.

Looking around at all the gaunt children, most of them wearing rags not too dissimilar from his own, Hal realized what they needed to do first and foremost.

They needed food.

Scanning the crowd, he found the soot-covered koblin he had been looking for. “Sparkspox, you seem to know your way around here. Did the goblins….” Hal let his words trail off as a horrifying realization hit him.

What if the reason there were hardly any adults was because the goblins were eating them?

Switching tack, Hal cleared his throat and said, “Can you come take a look at the exit with me, Sparkspox?” To the rest of the crowd, he said, “Stay here a moment while we scout out the exit. I don’t want to be here any longer than you do but we need to make sure the way is safe.”

Your Persuasion has risen to Level 2.

+1% Persuasion success (2%).

+0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (1.0%).

A feeble voice called out. “Lurklox… will go. Check for hold-fast sneak-harms.”

Hal fell into a deep squat beside her and smiled at the koblin. “I’ll be fine, Lurklox. Just rest for now. You’ve done well.”

With that, Hal took off through the parted sea of rubble and wreckage. He spotted several clusters of goblin armor and twisted remnants of weapons and metallic plate wrecked beyond use.

“Psshkoh, Savior give true tongue-flaps to Sparkspox. Why go to exit?”

“Observant, aren’t you, Sparkspox?”

“Koblin woman always see-true.”

Hal gave her a sidelong glance. Nothing about Sparkspox seemed feminine as far as he could tell. Then again she was covered up in the equivalent of a leather hazmat suit. Let’s add that to the list of things I’ll need to revisit later. A list that’s nearly a mile long at this point.

For a moment his shoulders sagged under the weight of all that he still didn’t know and all that was yet to be done. He still remembered the discussion he had recently with Elora about saving the prisoners from Fallwreath.

He had to hope that they were far enough away from Fallwreath to avoid further pursuit because with so many people – nearly a full quarter of them malnourished, half-starved children – they weren’t going anywhere at speed.

Just finding food and proper shelter was going to be hard enough.

“I wanted to ask you about… food,” he finally said to Sparkspox once they had passed through half of the blackened trail that carved through the jumble of cells.

Sparkspox nodded sagely. She put a mitt to her mask and stroked it thoughtfully. “Sparkspox thought so. Savior quick-think to stop tongue-flaps near small ones.”

Hal forced the words out. “The goblins were using the parents for food, weren’t they?”

The koblin nodded. “Some. Not all. Gobbies lazy. Took from koblin foodstuffs first. Kobbies no eat man-things,” she pointed out, giving Hal a direct look.

“Can you show me where the other food is?” As they walked he glanced over his shoulder at the gathered group. Most of their eyes followed him. It made Hal deeply uncomfortable. He was no leader.

So, of course, he received a prompt telling him the opposite.

Your Leadership has risen to Level 4.

+1% Party Damage (4%).

+2% Leadership Efficacy (8%).

He followed Sparkspox into a side chamber off the entrance hall that had luckily been cleared out by Elora’s devastating ultimate.

They had to shift some broken planks out of the small carved entryway but getting in was easy enough after that. Once enough room was cleared, Sparkspox simply ducked and weaved through the wreckage while Hal was forced to haul and pull the rest free.

“Much foodstuffs, no man-thing meat here,” she called from inside the low lit room. A few of those bowls of cubic stones, like glowing bismuth, were spaced evenly through the low chamber. Sparkspox meandered over to one and grabbed a stone, chafing it again in her mitts and brightening it considerably.

Hal’s head scraped against the lowest parts of the ceilings that rounded towards the walls, forcing him to stay in the central area. He reached for another sconce full of those stones and rubbed it between his palms.

They were smooth as glass but with more rounded edges than he could count. The stone pulsed to a nearly blinding light in his hands and he quickly replaced it in the sconce.

The room was lit with the equivalent of bright daylight. Sparkspox gave Hal a look but said nothing of it as she went over to the array of crude shelves and baskets piled high with fruits and vegetables.

Thankfully there didn’t seem to be much meat. Not that Hal would have said no to a steak or burger. Even with the food the Rangers had, he had been craving something more substantial than their rations of flatbread, cheese, and jerky.

But at that moment, he wouldn’t have trusted a fresh juicy burger if it came in a McDonald’s wrapper.

Not that those were either fresh or juicy.

Any meat could be tainted and he told Sparkspox as much, telling her to get rid of any meat she found. They would only bring back any vegetables, grains, or fruits they could find.

Without at least a single hearty meal, he doubted the children – or the koblins for that matter – would have to strength to march with the Rangers.

The adjoining room’s roof was even lower, forcing Hal to crouch. But it held a veritable feast of fresh fruits and vegetables. They were stacked up along the walls in stolen crates and spilling out of pilfered sacks.

Massive pots and cauldrons – large enough to stuff a person or two into, Hal noticed – were hung up on hooks and pegs driven deep into the stone walls.

Several sacks the size of Sparkspox were filled with a grain that looked a great deal like rice. There was more than enough food to feed everybody several times over. But it was all too much to bring with them. Before they left he would see how much he could take with them.

Between his inventory and Elora’s, they might be able to take a considerable amount.

“Sparkspox, do the goblins have wagons or carts?”

The little koblin had her back to him with her mask lifted up. She was snacking - quite loudly - on something from a sack against the far wall. She let out a squeak and pulled it back down, then turned and faced him. “Cart?”

Hal did his best to explain what a cart was, halfway through the explanation the koblin cut him off. “Oh! Trundle-rumble! No, gobbies here have no trundle-rumbles.”

There goes that idea.

“All right, let’s go back. Grab a few sacks of something that’s ready to eat right now and I’ll get a cauldron so we can cook up something more substantial.”

It didn’t take them long. A warm campfire greeted them when they returned with sacks full of simple fruits and vegetables that could tide them over until a proper meal was cooked.

Every person received some food, and Hal kept an eye out for anybody hoarding or stealing. In the end, he was worried for nothing. With plenty to go around, everybody had something to eat without issue. Even the slightly wilted vegetables were happily eaten by the smallest child.

The koblins, on the other hand, were almost snobbish toward the standard fare offered to them. Thankfully, they didn’t openly voice their displeasure. Once Hal and Sparkspox brought back the food, several more koblins came to help ferry more back to the group.

Elora sat and ate something that looked a great deal like an apple, only it was the size of her head and she held it in two hands as she bit into it. Hal’s stomach grumbled for his attention and he promised it he’d get some food in a moment.

One moment turned into five minutes, which turned into ten, and then ultimately into an hour as one thing or another demanded his attention. As was the way of things.

By the time Hal ate, he had delegated groups of koblins to retrieve usable equipment from the wreckage that they could safely reach and to loot any rooms the goblins had for supplies.

He organized a couple of additional fires to be made from the wooden wreckage that filled most of the cavern and soon had a few black iron cauldrons resting on their own blazing cookfires.

A few adventurous koblins gathered water from a stream outside and together everybody ate and drank. Free from their cells and of their tormentors.

Even while he ate, Hal had to go around stopping people from overindulging. He erred on the side of caution, assuming the koblins had similar biology to humans.

The last thing he wanted was for any of them to die from the shock of eating too much after starving for so long. He recalled reading about that happening to some of the Holocaust survivors. It was hard to tell them to stop, but the children and koblins obeyed him without complaint.

It was a little unnerving. He still wasn’t used to people listening to him.

Hal walked around, passing out stone bowls of boiled grains and bits of roasted vegetables in small portions to each of the prisoners. Between the recently freed koblins and the malnourished children, they had used up all the bowls available. Many people were forced to share a bowl.

Rather than wait his turn for a bowl to become free, Hal bit into the golden fruit Sparkspox had given him earlier. It was surprisingly delicious and juicy. Like a cross between a kiwi and an apple.

You eat a [Persiskos].

+5% HP | +5% SP | +10% MP .

+3 VIT.

Duration: 2hrs.

Hal couldn’t contain the smile that spread across his face. Food buffs were so interesting to him.

He was eager to discover more. What might a full course meal might provide? Did spices make a difference?

So many questions.

Inevitably he found his thoughts turning back to the others in the cavern with him. There were so many more people than he thought.

All told there were nearly two hundred souls under his care now. That thought nearly bowed his shoulders with unwanted responsibility. But he resisted and refused to give in to the worries and doubts.

One step at a time. He vowed as he got up to make his rounds again.

20

As he walked about the people in the cavern, he looked at his stats again. Particularly his Class Affinities and the newest addition to the list, Oathforger.

Unlike Chimera Knight, he had no Quest for that Class.

Oathforger

In ages long lost, these battlefield commanders held sway over whole nations with a single word. Their Oaths held insurmountable power to break and reforge the bonds of all people. With an Oath, they could inspire the cowardly to action, give strength to the weak, and even ward off the cold embrace of death itself.

That sounds different. He couldn’t get any more information about what oaths were. They sounded like magic but at the same time… not.

At the moment it didn’t concern him greatly. Oathforger was sitting at 20% whereas he Chimera Knight was at 70% affinity.

He glanced back at the Chimera Knight Quest, one of two flashing Quest prompts that demanded his attention.

Quest Updated: Chimeric Attunement.

Your dedication to becoming a Chimera Knight is clear. Having achieved over 100% in a single monster affinity, you have gone above and beyond. Collect 100% essence in another monster family to complete the quest. Go forth and consume.

Objectives

- Achieve 100% monster affinity in at least 1 more monster family.

- Additional rewards available based on unknown parameters.

- Attain over 200% monster affinity with 1 monster family (Complete).

Reward

- Varies based on actions taken.

- Chimera Knight Level +1.

- Fabled Evolution Available.

Quest Complete: Repay Buffrix!

All of Buffrix’s immediate clan are freed. You’ve completely annihilated the goblin force occupying and threatening the region. You have gone above and beyond in not only freeing Buffrix’s immediate clan but the surrounding clansmen of the koblins in the region as well. Return to Buffrix for your well-earned reward.

Objectives

- Break Buffrix’s clan out of the goblin prison(Complete).

- Destroy the goblin cave(Complete).

- Additional objectives available.

- Rescue Sparkspox (Complete).

- Rescue Jabkix (Complete).

- Kaboom(Complete).

- Do not let more than 10 koblins die in their cells (0/10)(Complete).

Rewards

- 2,000 Experience Points

- Koblin Reputation (Variable).

- Item: [Goblinbane].

- Additional rewards available.

- 500 Experience Points.

- [Spaulder of the Ravenblessed].

- [Brave Belt].

Elora came up to Hal, two bowls of steaming purple rice with roasted vegetables on top in her hands. “You should eat something more than a piece of fruit.”

Without waiting for his reply, she walked to a secluded section away from the campfires and sat down, crossing her legs beneath her lithe form in one smooth motion.

Hal’s stomach growled again and he decided she was right.

Buffrix would still be there in an hour.

“Thanks,” Hal said, sitting beside her.

He stared at the dull purple grains. It looked like something you’d make for a bratty kid who wouldn’t eat normal rice. Hal took a whiff of the bowl, it smelled just as bland as any normal bowl of rice with roasted vegetables would.

Though he found himself missing the grits-like [Remonta].

It was nothing outstanding but looked far heartier than the usual rations of cheese, flatbread, and dried meat he’d been given with the Rangers.

The Ranger looked around. In the dim light, her eyes seemed more blue than gray. “We will not be able to move swiftly with so many.”

“I’ve already considered that,” Hal replied, tasting the first spoonful. It was just as bland as it smelled but it was hot and there was something to be said about having a hot, filling meal. Even if it could really use some salt. “And there are a few solutions I think we can come up with that’ll work.”

Elora turned toward him.

The intensity with which she peered at him made Hal feel as if she were peeling away every inch of who he was until she could see into his very soul.

When Elora didn’t say anything more, he pressed on, “There’s no doubt we’ll move slower but I figure that we’ve got the upper hand with such a large group. By my rough estimate, there’s at least two-hundred here.”

“Two-hundred and forty-seven all told. Sixty-five children,” Elora cut in. “Nearly all malnourished, half-starved, or in even worse states. It will take us days merely to breach the outer reach of Fallwreath now. If we make it at all.”

For all the harsh reality of her words, she wasn’t telling him they should sneak out the back as he had feared. Elora looked at Hal with something dangerously close to hope.

“Then we go slower and move in a large force.” Hal chewed on a warm spoonful of rice and vegetables, thinking about the night they were ambushed. It seemed so long ago but even with being unconscious, it couldn’t have been more than a day ago. “Elora, how long was it since the attack?”

“Not long, it should be midday of the following day. You haven’t been gone even a full day, yet.” Elora looked at the stone floor and swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. “Once Yesel told me she had lost sight of you… I left to find you.” The words came out in a strangled whisper.

“Thank you,” Hal said, putting down the bowl and gently laying his hand on her shoulder. “I know I may not have seemed grateful when you came to rescue me, but I was. I am grateful still, Elora.”

Elora gave him a soft smile and patted his hand with hers.

“You don’t think they’re….” He left the question unsaid. Hal wasn’t sure how close Elora was with the Rangers but it seemed clear she felt torn over her decision to leave them in order to track and rescue Hal.

“No.” Elora’s voice had taken on a hard edge. “They are all capable and strong in their own right, together they are a force to be reckoned with.” Her eyes found Hal’s, they burned bright with a fierce inner light. “They would have slain the force against them or driven them off. Of that I am sure.”

Relief unfurled in Hal’s chest. He had spent a lot of time with the Rangers and they all seemed to know their craft. From the easy way they moved, it was clear that he had been slowing them down the entire time.

Without him, they likely would never have been attacked in the first place. They would have been far away from any danger already. And they definitely would not have been captured.

It was most likely that Hal’s blundering about in the dark to get firewood had alerted the creatures to their presence.

He doubted the Rangers made so much as a whisper on their own.

“How many do you think there were?” Hal asked, getting back on track.

“Maybe a score at most.”

“Twenty of those things attacked us?” he blurted out.

“It’s a bit larger than typical patrols but not uncommon.” Elora had taken out one of her curved slender daggers and began to sharpen it with a whetstone the size of her palm. It made a pleasant ringing sound. Not at all like the harsh grating he had expected.

“What would a group like that do if they saw a couple hundred?”

Elora glanced at him, a brief quirk to her lips as she understood his meaning. “They would have wanted nothing to do with it. Goblins, even when partnered with the pack-less gnolls, are cowardly by nature. They would only attack if they thought they were assured of victory or were pressed by some darker force at their back.”

“So then, perhaps the time for stealth and speed is over,” Hal suggested. After all, if they could keep everybody fed, there was safety in numbers. So many days away from Fallwreath, even if a group of fifty soldiers came upon them, they had more than three times that number in koblins.

Of course, that would only work if the koblins agreed to come with them - and they were willing to fight. That last part he wasn’t too concerned about. After witnessing his fellow koblin party members in action, he was confident in their abilities.

Nearly 200 koblins was a sizable force indeed.

He didn’t like their chances of shepherding dozens of children with just himself and Elora. He made a note to go talk to Buffrix after he turned in the Quest about the various koblin clans and their plans for the future.

If he could get the koblins to agree to come and Hal passed out all the goblin armaments that he had gotten, a full two-thirds of the koblins would be in some sort of fighting shape.

That put any attacking force except a full detachment of well-trained soldiers at a severe disadvantage.

And Hal doubted that such forces could make up the speed with which the Rangers had originally afforded them. That was if the Rangers left any discernible trail at all.

“Perhaps,” was all Elora said.

21

They spoke for a while as Elora sharpened her considerable supply of blades and Hal finished his food. Hal explained his plan to enlist the koblin’s help by giving up almost all of the loot he’d found in the cavern.

Not to mention that with all the weapons and gear they’d actually have a fighting chance should anything happen.

With all the rags and clothes stolen from the nearby villages they could put something together for the kids and with a little more exploration might find a stash of clothes that Hal hadn’t come across in his brief search.

By the time Hal had finished eating, earning himself another buff, they were well on the way to a full-fledged plan to get everybody geared up and able to move by nightfall.

You eat [Rice & Roasted Vegetables].

+10% HP Regeneration | +10% SP Regeneration | +10% MP Regeneration.

+5 VIT.

Duration: 8hrs.

I could get used to a world where I got stat boosts for feeding myself.

There was a big difference between snacking on a piece of fruit and a hearty - if bland - meal. While the [Persiskos] was tastier by far, the buffs only lasted 2 hours.

The [Rice & Roasted Vegetables] on the other hand lasted a full 8 hours and gave superior buffs at that.

Hal took out the chipped, weathered, and blood-stained [Deserter’s Falchion] after he was finished eating and set it in front of himself. Elora made a strangled sound in the back of her throat and Hal looked up sharply in alarm.

Her face was precious. Elora’s eyes were widened in shock and revulsion as she registered what it was he had set down and then fury at the condition of it. “When we make camp, I am teaching you how to take care of your things. This.” She motioned angrily at the weapon. “It is a tragedy. A child knows how to keep better care of their things.”

“Learning how to take care of weapons does seem like a good idea,” he agreed. “I was about to ask you if you could show me.”

She eyed the weapon with obvious disdain and picked it up with a cloth, trying to wipe the dried purple blood off it.

It seemed the remains of a goblin didn’t explode into nothingness like the majority of its body did sometimes.

“Carelessness aside, I did not expect you to have any plan of how to deal with those you had freed.”

Hal grinned. “Elora, was that a compliment?” He put a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

Her face burned red-hot and Hal quickly hopped to his feet and took several prudent steps out of her immediate striking distance for good measure. Her eyes bore into his and she whispered through gritted teeth. “There is nowhere you can run that my arrow will not find its mark.”

With that threat at his back, Hal decided it best to leave the fiery Ranger to cool off. Besides, he had work to do.

He had to enlist the help of the koblins, kids needed to be grouped up, people needed clothing, and there was a laundry list of other managerial tasks that had to be done if he had any hope of joining up with the Rangers and… and Hal didn’t know what after that.

One step at a time, he reminded himself. It didn’t matter where they were going as long as they were out of the cavern before any more goblins or gnolls showed up.

He only hoped that the koblins would agree to come along.

Though, as Hal looked at his inventory, he somewhat doubted that would be an issue. The amount of loot he’d gotten from the goblins was almost enough to fill up the thirty slots he had.

Without the weird way the inventory system seemed to work, he would never have been able to hold all of it. How it managed to stack 75 [Goblin Masks] into one equivalent slot, Hal didn’t know. And in the end, he didn’t much care so long as it continued to work.

One of the things he had always struggled with in every game was encumbrance and inventory space. Two minutes into most games and he was rooted to the spot because he was overweight from shoving everything that wasn’t nailed down into his digital pockets.

The change of pace was nice.

The first thing was to find Buffrix, complete the Quest, and enlist his help in persuading the rest of the koblins to stay together.

If they agreed, he’d need at least one leader per fifty koblins. That would mean he’d only need to tell three koblins – give or take – their roles in getting people outfitted instead of every single person.

If I’m going to be getting Leadership skill, I might as well delegate like one.

He had seen firsthand how sloppy it was trying to order a retreat without any discernible chain of command. Not that Hal was a military strategist by any stretch of the imagination but he understood efficiency.

It took him no time at all to find the green-lensed koblin.

His unique mask among the wooden or sack-wearing koblins made him easy to spot. He had also seemed to have picked up a gnarled and twisted staff of pale wood somewhere and was using it to help heal the koblins and children that had formed an orderly queue.

Are no other koblins capable of healing?

“Have you eaten yet?” Hal asked the koblin.

“Muchly!” Buffrix replied. “Need much airy-self to cast healy-spells.” The koblin finished casting and the koblin that knelt before him cradling an arm yelped out and experimentally moved around, amazed at the difference. The healed koblin did a little jig and danced away. Buffrix turned to Hal. “Savior come to complete Quest?”

“I have, and I wanted to ask for some help in organizing our departure and joining back up with the Rangers I was traveling with.”

The koblin tilted his head, green lenses in his koblin mask unreadable. A white-leather mitt extended and a long blade appeared there, perfectly balanced on his palm.

“Is gift of kobbies to Savior-Hal. Goblinbane.”

Hal took the blade by the hilt. It was wonderfully crafted. Fashioned in much the same curved falchion design as his previous weapon but of a much higher quality.

Gold-red runes crawled up the length of the blade on either side. They flared to life when he tightened his grip on the blade and dimmed when he held it in a relaxed stance.

The weight of it felt good in his hand and he gave it a few experimental swings off to the side. It sang through the air with an ethereal hum.

When Hal looked back at Buffrix, the koblin also offered a belt with a sheath, and a piece of metal attached to long leather straps. “Thank you, Buffrix,” Hal said, taking the two items.

The curved metal with the straps turned out to be a [Spaulder of the Ravenblessed], and the belt was simply called a [Brave Belt]. After some initial confusion, Hal strapped on both the belt and the spaulder. It was hard not to laugh at his lack of anything but bloodied, tattered rags beneath the shiny new equipment.

His eyes bulged at the difference as he examined his new equipment.

Goblinbane

[Sword] (Epic)

Item Level: 18

DMG: 14

+2 STR | +3 CHR

+10% Damage vs. Goblins

Additional Effect (Goblins): Fear

DUR: 300/300

Lv.9 All Classes

Spaulder of the Ravenblessed

[Shoulders] (Epic)

Item Level: 25

DEF: 10

MDEF: 10

+1 INT

Restores 10 MP per kill.

Insulation: 5

DUR: 600/600

Lv. 10 All Classes

Brave Belt

[Waist] (Epic)

Item Level: 17

DEF: 5

+2 STR

Insulation: 2

DUR: 400/400

Lv.5 All Classes

The koblin wrung his little mitts and looked at his long, floppy boots. When he sighed, it sounded a lot like a radiator letting off steam. “Buffrix has confession, was greedalox. Asked Savior-Hal to save clan, not all koblin. But Savior-Hal did much quick-think hand-lending and saved all koblins from stink-goblins. For this, koblin’s call you koblin-Savior.”

Koblin Reputation: +8,000 (Savior).

The koblins now consider you their savior and will aid you in any way you deem necessary. While they will not go against their own ethics and moral codes to do so, they will consider your will before their own needs.

“Thank you, Buffrix. I don’t know what to say.”

The koblin patted him kindly on the knee. “No tongue-flaps needful.”

“If you’ve got a second, I’d like to talk to you about something, Buffrix. I don’t know what the koblins have planned for with their freedom but we could use their help. If they’re willing to stay with us until the children are safe I will surrender all of the goblin and koblin equipment.”

The koblin looked at him, slightly turning his head. His one ear flopped to the side. “Koblins go where Savior-Hal goes. Will hear no tongue-flaps otherwise! But will take gear. Naked koblin is useless koblin,” Buffrix said.

Hal breathed a sigh of relief. Good. That was one thing settled.

“I also need some help organizing the group into smaller units of fifty or so with a single, trustworthy koblin to watch over it and report to me. Could you find those koblins for me?”

Buffrix clapped his hands excitedly. “Many good-kobbies for job! Will send them near-soon.”

“I appreciate it.”

Hal kept busy organizing the koblins as best he could while raiding what little clothing supplies the goblins had once possessed.

Most of the prisoner’s old clothes were barely worthy of the word but between Hal, Sparkspox, and Slyrix Quickfingers, the resident weaver among the koblins, they managed to salvage enough to clothe the children and remaining koblins.

Slyrix showed himself to be exceptionally skilled with a needle and thread once they were found and could take the various shredded lengths of cloth to make clothes so that everybody was dressed.

Hal found his old clothes but the only salvageable items were his boots. Slyrix whipped him up a serviceable pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Neither of which were quite as filthy as the rest and seemed to be made out of the same piece of cloth, while most other outfits looked like a patchwork nightmare.

None of the refugees would be winning any fashion shows, but at least they had clothes that were warm and fit them. Suffering exhaustion out in the wilds from too little insulation was a very real concern.

A quick glance at his equipment panel showed they made no discernible difference beyond a single point of insulation. Together with his newly re-acquired [Simple Cloak], he was ready to march.

Though he didn’t need the insulation from Lootlox, he still missed that littlest of koblins and made it his mission to find her. From overhearing various koblins, it seemed she was safe but being so small made her uniquely difficult to find.

The koblins had built up a large bonfire after the cauldrons were set aside and food was served.

While Hal was wondering how they were going to feed over two hundred people each day of their travels, a koblin came up to his side and gently tugged on his pant leg.

Hal looked down into the rough sack mask of a koblin with glowing yellow lamplight eyes peering out beneath the raggedly cut eye holes. “Prowlox Bandylegs at your service, Savior-Hal! Best kobbie-girl for telling what-do.”

“Did Buffrix send you?”

The koblin nodded so fiercely her large green ears flopped about.

“Good, you can be my quartermaster, do you know what that is? No? Okay, it goes like this. I give you a bunch of items and you make sure they get distributed properly to all the people. Can you do that?”

“Prowlox can do muchly!”

Hal took that as a “yes” and proceeded to find a large enough clearing to dump his inventory. All of the goblin helms, masks, leathers, and suits of armor along with any weapons and koblin-made items were separated into their respective piles by the quick-footed koblin.

He had barely finished emptying the considerable amount of items when Prowlox turned to him and held up a few hexagonal patches. “These for you.”

Hal looked at them curiously. “I don’t know what to do with them.”

The koblin let out a high-pitched giggle. “Silly Savior-Hal was just trading tongue-flaps with Slyrix Quickfingers, yes?” Hal nodded. “Take and bring to Slyrix, he showing how to use.”

Hal took the patches and struck off in search of Slyrix.

“Savior-Hal back so near-soon?” called Slyrix, kicking through a pile of shredded cloth looking for something to work with.

“Prowlox said you knew what to do with these?” Hal offered the three [Gobbiebag Patches] to the koblin.

“Psshkoh!” Slyrix cried. “Give, give!” The koblin snatched the patches and turned them over in his hands. The dark lenses of his goblin mask made him look beady-eyed but even through the mask, Hal could tell the koblin was excited. “Turnsies turnsies!”

In a blur of motion, the koblin was on Hal, turning him until the [Gobbiebag] was visible. He wasn’t sure how the koblin did that.

Slyrix whipped out a black needle he hadn’t seen before and a length of thread that glinted silver and gold.

Before Hal could think to jump away from the diving needle headed straight for his hip, Slyrix was finished. His hand worked in a blur so fast that Hal hadn’t much time to react.

Your [Gobbiebag] has been upgraded to 35 Inventory.

Your [Gobbiebag] has been upgraded to 40 Inventory.

Your [Gobbiebag] has been upgraded to 45 Inventory.

“That’s what those patches were for?” Hal asked in wonder.

Slyrix nodded. “Enbiggening hold-things! Very useful. Very rare.”

For some reason Hal found himself tempted to reach down and hug the koblin but figured it would seem offensive. They were so adorable to him with their strange vernacular and helpful mannerisms.

Though he couldn’t help but wonder what was beneath the masks.

Now that, I know they wouldn’t want me poking my nose into.

“Thanks again, Slyrix.”

One inventory slot lighter, Hal went to see if Buffrix had managed to select the rest of the koblin leaders.

There was still so much to do. Koblins needed to be outfitted, those that were well enough to fight had to be given weapons, some method of hauling as much food as possible needed to be devised and they had to make sure they could leave before it was too dark out.

The entire time Hal was worried the rest of the goblin clan – if there was any – would come back. He hadn’t seen any gnolls in the battle with the goblins, which suggested to him that they either paired up from different dens or the groups with the gnolls were still out patrolling.

Which meant that they would be back sooner rather than later. Hal wanted to be long gone when they returned.

22

The hours passed by in a blur as Hal found himself involved in one task or another. Unsurprisingly, Hal found Lootlox only when the koblin came up to him and declared that she was appointing herself one of the koblin leaders.

He only saw Elora in passing, and the look she gave him made him walk a little taller. Where he expected annoyance, he found grudging respect. A look of hope.

Hal had given his 4 [Simple Packs] out to the koblins that were overseeing their own section of the group. They had stuffed them full of food, supplies, and to each of them, Hal also gifted an [Adventurer’s Kit]; which had a slew of useful items in the small case, including 10 rations for a full day, a backpack with 10 slots, and a tent among other things.

Lootlox Bangpots and Buffrix Eargone led the groups with the largest amount of children as the kids seemed to have taken a liking to the two koblins best and were more than happy to stay in their company.

Prowlox Bandylegs, Jabkix Pigeonpecs, and a recovered Lurklox Dhalmelneck headed up the bulk of the koblin fighting force. Prowlox took Buffrix’s place in the party. They would move in a formation of three cells around the two vulnerable groups at the center. That way if any attacks came, they would meet fierce resistance before a child or defenseless koblin was ever in danger.

“Why not swap me out for Buffrix?” asked Hal once Elora had sent invitations for the party to the koblins.

“Buffrix can heal just fine from where he will be,” she said, restringing her bow and testing out the draw on it. “Priority should be given to those that are farther away. We can keep Buffrix and Gibberbox close by at the center. Right next to you. And,” Elora added, dropping her voice. “I do not know if I could handle being in a party full of koblins only. I can only understand one out of every ten words.”

Hal chuckled and let it go at that.

“Elora?” Hal asked. She didn’t look up but he could tell she was listening by the way her hands rested on the graceful curve of her bow. “I was hoping you might answer some questions about the discordant stone.”

“Once we’re on the road,” she offered, her gray-blue eyes darting around to the nearby koblins engaged in one task or another but very clearly listening in on anything Hal said.

Hal took the words for what they were, a dismissal. They were also a keen reminder that perhaps, his ignorance was best shown to as few people as possible.

By the time everybody was geared up and headed out, the gray sky was beginning to darken. Just once, I’d like to see the sun.

The exterior of the cave let out into the rough foothills of a densely wooded forest that had been clear-cut and scorched for dozens of yards in a rough half-circle away from the cave.

Crude guard towers swayed in the stiff wind that blew through the clearing. It was eerily quiet save for that mournful wind. Elora pointed to the left, down a rocky path that faintly resembled a roadway and wound its way down the rocky hillside and into the clearing below.

“Would they still be where we made camp?” Hal asked.

“No,” Elora answered at his side. “They would have moved on if nobody was badly wounded and formed a wide perimeter miles apart. We’ll run into one of them eventually if we continue on our way to the nearest Sanctuary. That’d be Murkmire. Once we drop off the refugees we’ll swing around to the south and head toward the Shiverglades.”

“Which is what, exactly?” Hal had no idea what the geography of the area was much less where any towns or cities were. If they even had that. Sanctum-Fallwreath seemed to be large as any city on Earth but he hadn’t gotten a good look at it to really tell.

“We recently passed about two days south of Amberhearth before we were ambushed,” Elora explained. “If we hope to find any aid it would be in Murkmire but our original plan was to head south to Withermere.

“There are sympathizers there that are too far from Sanctum-Fallwreath to be controlled with any reliable degree and it’s too far to send enough guard presence so it’s mostly locals. And they understand how poorly the Founder has let the region fall. But we can’t go there now.”

“Why, if we could get help there that makes the most sense to go there, does it not?”

“It is a hard journey and with such a group....” She shook her head. “I do not wish to press the children any more than we must. Murkmire is closer and while the Founder still holds some sway there it is reduced greatly. It’s mostly a merchant city. Besides, we may be able to garner some sympathy for the children we have saved.

“The Council of Murkmire will know where most of these children hail from. They are too far from Mistmarch or Amberhearth and likely are from surrounding villages in this area. Unfortunately, I don’t know the area that well, only the major Sanctuaries and Sanctums. But we’ll need to keep the koblins back. There’s no telling how the people will react to seeing them.”

Hal didn’t like that but he understood the pragmatism. He couldn’t imagine the koblins hurting a fly. They didn’t even eat meat.

The koblins deserved recognition for their role in the fight as well. Without them, Hal would have been dead. But he also knew how horrible people could be and he didn’t doubt for a second that most could not tell a koblin from a goblin.

I’ve been around them for a while now and I’m still not sure aside from the lack of them trying to kill me. If that’s all that separates them, then that’s one difficult distinction to make.

“Hold on, clarify something for me,” Hal said.

Elora shot him a curious look.

“Originally it seemed like there was nothing but Sanctums. You made it seem like people would be insane to live anywhere else. Is Murkmire a Sanctum?”

“No,” she said, casting her eyes to the trampled grass beneath her feet. “I don’t fully understand the magic involved but what I do know is that a Founder is responsible for nurturing a Manaseed into a Manatree. That much we are allowed to know as common knowledge.

“What we don’t know is why Sanctum-Fallwreath has a fully grown Manatree while Murkmire has a stunted sapling. The protection it provides is but a fraction of what the Manatree at Sanctum-Fallwreath gives but it’s still enough for a town to thrive.

“They are called Sanctuary Towns. Withermire, Mistmarch, Amberhearth, Murkmire, they’re all Sanctuaries. Villages, homesteads, and settlements are surviving by the grit of their inhabitants. Most don’t make it very long but a few have survived a long while by keeping themselves sheltered and in small numbers.”

“Large groups of people attract Manastorms?” Hal guessed.

“That and raiding bandits, beastmen, and other monsters.”

That made more sense to Hal. At first, he had thought there was nearly nothing outside of Fallwreath but that would have been nearly impossible. Even if the world was practically dead, there would be enough people for more than a handful of cities.

“So, I’m not likely to run into this Founder in Murkmire?” Hal asked. It didn’t seem likely that Elora would want him within sight of anywhere a Founder might find him if she could avoid it.

The last time hadn’t gone so well and the Founder didn’t even know he was there. He knew exactly what would have happened if the prison guards saw his mark.

“Definitely not. He’s all but forsaken it, like most of the towns. The Council runs Murkmire, it’s a lively trade-centric town. The Founder is still viewed somewhat favorably there, so we’ll need to make sure to tread carefully but I don’t foresee any issue.” Elora locked eyes with Hal. “I would never ask you to walk into the den of a Founder.”

Hal averted his eyes and they lapsed into silence while he thought over everything she had said.

They entered into the darkness of the forest and the koblin leaders ignited their torches. It had been one of the last things Hal had remembered to do and was glad for it.

While it would make them a bigger target, it would make sure no children were forced to scramble about in the dark. Hal figured they had enough of that while they were imprisoned and wanted to avoid reminders of that time.

More to the point, the torches would make the group highly visible. Any animals or creatures looking for an easy meal would – he hoped – steer clear of the large force.

Even with the torchlight, the light was incredibly dim and the densely packed trees forced them to meander and spread out, making what light they did have even more stretched.

Thankfully, that made it easier to talk in relative privacy with Elora. Once they had gotten well underway the koblins had each taken the shepherding of their own groups seriously and watched over them like worried mother hens.

“You have recently attained Level 10?” Elora asked without preamble after an hour or more of silence.

Hal had been filled with so many other thoughts he completely forgot about his pending questions about the discordant stone.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because that means you’ve finally finished your NLs, your Novice Levels. They are the first 10 Levels any person gains. Some people are still Novices well into adulthood.

“You’ll find a lot of people are required to stay Novices to accept citizenship in some towns and cities. It keeps the peace according to the Founder, he can keep track of who takes on what Class.” Elora’s words dripped venom.

“It makes it easier to control people, you mean.”

She merely nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He found himself a little disappointed not to see the telltale point of an elven ear. Though he thought he saw a slight resemblance. Elora had the same calm grace that many of the elven Rangers possessed.

“After your NLs you can take on any Class you want. Have you got anything in mind?”

“I have a few Classes that are high affinity, something called Chimera Knight is the highest at over seventy-percent. Thief isn’t far behind,” Hal answered, stretching his arms above his head.

“Never heard of it,” Elora said. “That’s good though. Most people have to wait months or years to get affinity in even the basic Classes like Thief and Warrior.” She caught Hal’s disappointed look and added, “Just because they’re basic doesn’t mean they are weak. Unless you’re dead-set on a specific Class, it is best to fill out your three Classes as fast as possible.”

“What do you mean?” Hal asked, swerving around a large oak tree.

“You can only take three Classes, anything more apparently has severely negative consequences. Though, considering that information is direct from teachings that the Founder finds acceptable, there is reason to doubt it.

“Each Class takes the same amount of experience to Level Up. Taking a Class from zero to one is a hundred experience, and up to Level two is three-fifty. By having three Classes, you essentially get to triple-dip in attribute points.

“Let me give you an example,” Elora continued, adjusting a strap on her armor. “Your Level should now reflect your total Levels. Right now it will stay at ten until you gain another Class. Once you gain a Level in that, it will go up.

“Your Level could be twenty but you might only have ten Levels in Novice, three in another Class, and another seven in a second Class. The total is still twenty even though each individual Class is different.”

“And for each of those Levels I’ll get attribute points,” Hal said, catching on. “So it would be in my best interest to take three Classes immediately so I can make use of the low experience required to Level Up, right?”

“Yes, and no. Classes give access to unique magic, perks, traits, and abilities. I saw you do some unique looking magic back in the cave, I bet that came from a Quest for a Class?”

Hal blew out a long sigh. “Yeah. I’m starting to see what you mean now. It’s a balancing act then? Between strong Classes and getting more to utilize the quick stat growth?”

“For the most part,” Elora agreed. “What I meant was if you already have Thief at full affinity and you can complete the Class Quest it gives you, don’t hold back simply because you think it’s a weak Class. It may not be a Fabled Class but it’s strong on its own and the quick boost to your stats is not something I would dismiss.

“It takes roughly the same amount of experience to go from Level seventeen to eighteen as it does from Level zero to Level ten. That’s fifty attribute points compared to five. Now double that - because we’ll assume you would already have a Class besides Novice at that point.”

Hal let out a low appreciative whistle. “All right, I get it now. But isn’t that sacrificing short-term gains for long-term?”

“How do you figure?” Elora didn’t seem to disagree, the look she gave Hal was assessing and curious. Like she didn’t expect Hal to bring it up.

“Well, first what’s a ‘Fabled Class’?”

“An unusually rare and powerful Class,” Elora answered, rolling her wrist as she explained. “They’re typically rare because the requirements to get their affinity or Class Quest is obscure or difficult.”

So that’s what he might be able to unlock if he completed more hidden objectives for his Chimera Knight Quest. He would need to keep that in mind then. And besides, it just proved his point.

If he bided his time, foregoing short-term gains right then - such as unlocking Chimera Knight as soon as possible - he would miss out on an even stronger Class. And likely as a result, he would be stronger in the long run.

As they continued through the woods, Hal explained his point of view to her. How it might be better to wait until a particularly useful or strong Class was unlocked instead of diving on the first thing he gets to full affinity.

With only 3 Classes available, it made each Class all the more important. Each should be complementary in some way.

Elora was quite for a long while after that, eventually saying, “Somebody’s been increasing their intelligence.”

“Ha, ha,” Hal said.

“Didn’t you have questions about the discordant stone?” Elora reminded him.

“Oh right, yeah. So, I take it the discordant stone isn’t like… a physical object right?” At her incredulous stare, Hal chuckled. “Yeah, thought not. So what are the limitations then? I learned a bit about it and Focused Classes but I feel like there’s something obvious I’m missing.”

A koblin voice spoke up before she could answer, <“Miss harm-bow, kobbie look-sees spy many swift-waters ahead. Please to be advising.”>

Elora nodded and broke away from Hal. She cleared the nearest group of koblins with a springing leap that took her a full ten feet into the air and nearly twice that across until she was out of sight.

He spotted Elora up ahead, standing stock-still. Curious, Hal wound his way through the overgrowth and around the koblins to find out what was the matter.

“What’s wrong?” Hal asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Without a word, she strode forward to the large oak tree in front of them. Only once they got close did Hal notice the pole sticking out of a mass of vines.

And as Elora pulled the vines back, Hal understood. Pinned to the trunk of the tree with a large, well-made spear was the body of a man in hunting leathers.

23

“Is that…?” Hal couldn’t even say the words. Hal didn’t recognize the man’s face but judging by Elora’s suddenly relaxed posture, he didn’t think she did either.

“No,” Elora said, softly. “Help me get him down.”

The man had only been dead the past day or two and aside from the large hole in his chest from the spear, didn’t seem particularly worse for wear. It was suspicious how the vines grew over his body, effectively preserving him.

With the help of the koblins, they buried the man who had nothing of note on him, and even if he had, it wouldn’t have been right to take anything. Elora’s somber attitude hinted that she knew at least where he came from, if not who he was.

“You can keep the spear if you want,” Elora said as they took the man down. “Or give it to one of the refugees. I don’t want it but it would be a waste of a perfectly good weapon.”

As they buried him, she explained that the vines growing over him was not uncommon for particularly accomplished Druids or Rangers. It was a sign of respect, that the forest was reclaiming one of their own and preventing the animals from savaging the body.

They were moving through the forest less than half an hour later. Unfortunately, they came across the stockpile soon after. Or what was left of it. The ground was dug up and loose soil piled everywhere.

Crates were burned and smashed. There was nothing left.

The forest was already dark despite their torches and growing darker by the second. They’d need to break for camp soon but Elora wanted to get as far away from the stockpile before they set up camp.

“Did you know him?” Hal asked in a hushed voice. “Or what happened to the stockpile?”

She shook her head. “But I recognize his crest. He was a runner for the Hope. And that spear was no goblin made thing. It was fashioned from Fallwreath steel. He was meant as a warning.”

“To us?” Hal asked.

“No, to anybody who would subvert the rule of the Founder. That we found him means little, except that we could give him a proper burial. Whoever did it is long gone most likely. It was likely the same people who destroyed the cache of supplies.”

Hal chewed his lip in thought as they pressed on until they were forced to make camp.

The koblins were remarkably good at setting up impromptu lean-tos. They stretched tent canvas in a wide circle around a large bonfire so that many people could sleep under cover instead of only a few in individual tents.

He watched them work quietly, knowing full well that they would turn away his attempts to help. Not because they didn’t want it but because they had some strange notion that he didn’t need to pitch in.

They treated him like a favored son and as a revered figure. At once they managed to make him feel babied and put on a pedestal.

What food they had was rationed and stretched further with the aid of that strange purple rice. It was easy to carry and with a few pots. They had nothing quite so large as the cauldrons, which wouldn’t fit into anybody’s inventory. Filled with water from nearby streams, the rice could be made into a much larger meal.

Even if it was bland.

At least it was warm and filling. Hal heard no complaints about the food. He guessed after being locked in cages the freedom they had now and the hope they clung to was worth some tasteless food.

“How much longer until we get to Murkmire?” Hal asked Elora.

“Several days still. But it’ll depend largely on…” She motioned half-heartedly at the children laughing as they watched a koblin dance around and tell a story by the firelight.

He understood. They had made very little progress compared to the grueling pace the Rangers had set. The dark woods were crisscrossed with deep shadowy gullies and swift streams that they went to great pains to find a suitable crossing for both children and koblin alike.

The koblins were inventive, coming up with creative solutions to the problems at hand. Unfortunately, they lacked proper materials or tools to realize the koblin’s ideas.

And so, each detour added hours onto their already plodding pace.

“Have you spoken to the kids?” he asked.

“Not much, why?”

“I was wondering if maybe they knew where they had come from, we might be able to find a village or a small town on our way and return some of the kids to their homes.”

“I don’t mean to burst your bubble, Hal, but there won’t be anything for them.” She stirred her rice around, staring into her bowl as if it held answers. “If the children and their parents were taken from a village, that place is likely burned to the ground.

“There are dozens of small villages, homesteads, and the like across this region. Most of them abandoned. If we weren’t sticking to the thickest of the forest for cover, you would see how many burned-out shells there are.”

“What will leaving them in Murkmire do, then? If you want me to set up a Sanctum anyway… why don’t we take them with us?” Hal already had an inkling but he wanted to hear it from her.

Elora looked him in the eye. “The Shiverglades is not a kind place. It’s wild, untamed. Infested. It is no place for children but it is also far enough out of the reach of the Founder that you may be safe. That we may be safe from reprisal. For a time, at least.”

“Are the Shiverglades truly that dangerous?”

Elora’s stony expression cracked for a moment and he could see the fear that swam beneath the calm exterior. She didn’t need to say anything else. That look alone shook him to his core.

If Elora was scared of something, he knew he should be terrified.

* * *

After a brief pause for lunch later the next day, Hal heard a familiar bird call. The forest wasn’t devoid of life but it didn’t seem to thrive the way he would expect.

While none of the koblins seemed to remark upon the sound, Hal noticed that Elora perked up. It would not have seemed out of place except to people who have heard its call before. She pressed her palms together and put them to her mouth, blowing into her hands and making an answering bird call.

Immediately another trilling song answered her and Elora’s face broke into a wide smile.

They had found the Rangers.

Elora nodded at Hal and broke off through the group, giving the scouts at the fringes an order to return and regroup with the rest of them. They all clustered in the middle of the forest, separated by the thick pillar-like trunks as if they stood in a vast underground hall.

The canopy was so dense and high above them, they might as well have been in a dwarven stronghold but for the smell of green living things all about them.

Several agonizing minutes later, Elora returned with a smile on her face. “We will await their arrival here. A few of them were hurt but nothing that Ashera could not mend,” she said.

Buffrix sidled up to Hal. “Man-things will not harm kobbie-friends, yes?” he asked a little nervously.

Hal did his best to give the koblin a reassuring smile. “You have my word they will not harm you if you do nothing to harm them.”

Mollified, Buffrix nodded and went back to his group of children and koblins. In a short time, the children had grown surprisingly attached to the koblins as a whole but Buffrix and Lootlox, in particular, had a way with them.

Two gentle souls were lurking behind those leather masks.

When he learned that all of the koblins wanted to follow Hal, he couldn’t believe his ears. He had assumed that perhaps Buffrix and the others would follow him as they had gotten to know him but he didn’t expect such a large entourage.

As much as they seemed to think they owed him, Hal really knew what the score was. There was a deep mutual benefit in helping one another. The koblins, as Hal understood it, had been hunted in this region by goblins, gnolls, trolls, and other foul creatures.

Humans could not tell the difference – and Hal doubted they cared to learn – and chased them out of their settlements, leaving the poor things with nowhere to go.

Hal felt for them deeply. It was unfair. Something he was beginning to learn was a running theme in this new world he found himself in. And despite it all, he found a mounting desire to uproot that unfairness and replace it with something better.

Something kinder.

Which conflicted directly with his original goal of finding a way back home. A goal that was fast being eclipsed by his attachment to Aldim and its people.

From the edge of the torchlight, Hal saw the first of the Rangers return to the group. He recognized many of their faces but it was their eyes that he was particularly drawn to; Yesel’s amethyst eyes, Angram’s ruby orbs, and Ashera’s pale-green eyes, her horns glinted in the shifting light.

Altres’ crimson skin was easy to spot even though he had changed out of his dirty prisoner’s clothes.

He had barely known these people and the urge to run out to them and hug each of them was overwhelming.

“Hal! Elora!” Ashera cried, dragging Altres by his wrist. She ran the distance to the pair, enveloping them in a hug, squeezing the three of them together. “Oh, we thought the worst had happened when you didn’t return immediately!”

Ashera was stronger than she looked. Hal doubted he could have broken out of her grip, even with his newfound strength. Elora seemed to ponder the same escape from the look she gave him but thought better of it. Altres just smiled and shrugged, pleasantly surprised to be caught up in it all it seemed.

That appeared to be the tiefling’s default mood.

The girl finally released them and placed a strong hand each on Elora and Hal’s shoulder, her sea-glass eyes darting between the two. “You must tell me everything.”

“Us,” Altres corrected. “I cannot very well conduct a proper ballad if you don’t give me the details.” Hal had no idea where he had found the lute he pulled out.

Rejoined with the Rangers, Ashera and Altres joined Elora and Hal at the center of the large group as the pair recounted the last couple of days, each telling their part.

Ashera told them what had happened after Elora left. Just as Elora had said, the Rangers decimated the raiding party of goblins and gnolls but soon found themselves attacked by another group. Pushing off the second assault had taken its toll but they succeeded and regrouped to heal their wounds.

Once Elora did not come back immediately, there was a debate about whether they should go out in force, tracking her movements to find her.

Elora snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“Yes,” Ashera said with a gentle smile. “I told them as much. I said if they could find your trail and keep it for more than a hundred yards, then we should pursue. None of them could.”

“Elora,” Hal said with a grin. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you smile so smugly!” He burst out laughing. Elora colored and swatted at him without any heat. Ashera joined in with soft tinkling laughter.

Altres stood by listening, all the while trying to tune his lute in vain. He gave it a few experimental strums every now and then but even to Hal’s tin ear he could tell the notes were off.

The tiefling shrugged, lashed his tail behind him, and continued to tinker with it.

“I spent much of my childhood at my father’s side learning the craft and how to hide my tracks,” Elora said as stoically as she could manage.

“Time well spent,” Ashera agreed.

After they failed to pick up Elora’s trail, and with Hal’s trail being too muddled by all the fighting, the Rangers headed forward as Elora said they would, posting sentries along possible paths that Elora or Hal might take to rejoin.

“It was a lot of waiting. The ground shook from some distant disturbance but other than that, nothing notable happened,” Ashera said.

Hal grinned at that. “That would have been us.”

“What… did you do?” Altres asked, suddenly very interested. His glowing lilac eyes were wide.

Elora cut in before Hal could explain. Every word she spoke seemed to make her swell with pride. “Hal destroyed an entire goblin den and saved all of the prisoners in the same stroke.” She motioned to the koblins and children. “Their freedom is owed to his bravery and daring.”

If she hadn’t used his name, Hal would have thought she was talking about somebody else. The praise fell upon his shoulders awkwardly and he reflexively hunched beneath the unfamiliar burden.

Your Leadership has risen to Level 5.

+1% Party Damage (5%).

+2% Leadership Efficacy (10%).

Ashera clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh, I knew you were brave! You only needed the opportunity to present itself.”

Bit of an understatement, but sure let’s go with that.

“I was only doing the right thing,” he said.

“Is that why the koblins look at you like some religious figure?” Altres asked him with a chuckle.

“Could be,” he hedged.

It wasn’t like he knew why they had taken such a shine to him beyond his reputation going up but the feeling was mutual. They were remarkably inventive and a joy to be around. Even if he could only understand half of what they said at any given time. He envisioned a place where people and koblins could coexist peacefully.

“You have got quite the dreamy look on your face,” said Ashera, eyeing him up and down with a slight quirk to her pouty lips. “We could all use a bit of hope in these dark days, what is on your mind?”

She had a fair point. “You said that I might be able to create a sanctuary, a Sanctum, right?” When she nodded he pressed on. “Then that stands to reason I’d be able to make a brand new Sanctum unbound by any rules of the current ones.

“In which case, I would like to formally invite the koblins to live there alongside any other peaceful races, regardless of their background.”

Ashera nudged Elora with an elbow. “I told you this one was different. Look at him already dreaming up an egalitarian home for all the misfits of this world.”

“It will take more than a good heart and pleasant dreams of the future to see that to fruition,” Elora said, pulling Hal back down to reality. “We should leave as many koblins behind as possible.

“And before you say anything, Hal this is for their safety. Only a few of them are decent fighters. And where we are going, we will need every able-bodied person we can get. To bring all of them? It would be cruel. We can always come back for them, Hal. On my honor, I would not leave them behind if it was not for their own good.”

Hal could accept that. Once they had a settlement and knew the path, it would be less dangerous. Even though he didn’t like it, he found himself agreeing with Elora.

For the koblin’s own good, he had to find them another home. A temporary home.

24

The last week had felt like an eternity to Hal. All the organizing, endless marching, and traveling had worn out its welcome a long time ago.

So when the trees began to thin and light first peeked through the treetops overhead, Hal hoped it meant they were close to the end. The Rangers called for a halt and pulled back, whispering quietly to each other.

Rather than try to overhear, Hal stayed back and did his best to wait patiently. If it was something he needed to know, they’d let him know. If not, they’d keep him in the dark.

Like usual.

That wasn’t precisely fair but it felt like all they ever did was deal with the problems they felt Hal too weak to do himself. The problem was if they continued to solve those problems for him, he’d never get strong enough to tackle them himself.

Maybe that’s their plan, he wondered for the first time. What if their goal is to make me some kind of puppet? Where the only power I have is what they give me because I’m too weak to do anything on my own?

The questions sat heavily in his stomach and even Elora’s confident smile did nothing to banish the concern that he was being used.

Despite the valid worry, Hal didn’t think it likely after mulling it over for a few minutes. Nothing they did ever seemed to place Hal in a helpless situation where he was entirely reliant on them.

They were protective, sure. Perhaps bordering on over-protective at times but Hal knew it was his own aching feet and tired legs that was turning his mood sour. And worst of all was the slow pace. For as much walking as they did, they never seemed to get very far.

Knowing his mood was more from discomfort than any real concern actually managed to make him feel a bit better ironically.

“Murkmire is less than a mile to our north,” she said. “A few of the Rangers are going to go on ahead to make sure the coast is clear. This far from Sanctum-Fallwreath the influence of the Founder is weakened but sometimes he likes to send out detachments of loyal soldiers.”

Ashera placed a hand on Hal’s shoulder, appearing at his side. She had remarkably soft steps for somebody who had been a prisoner in a city. “We have had enough surprises, don’t you think so, Hal?”

“More than enough,” he agreed.

“We’ll keep a few Rangers here to make sure the children and koblins are kept well out of sight while we go into town,” Elora said. “I want you to stay with Ashera and me when we go into Murkmire. They’re a brash and boisterous people, we don’t need them knowing you’re a Founder.” She motioned at Hal’s left arm, the mark was still hidden beneath the makeshift bamboo bracer under his long sleeve.

“I’ll stay here,” Altres said, sitting on an overturned log as koblins and children huddled around to hear another one of his silly songs. Despite the out of tune lute, it was one of the highlights of the day for the kids and koblins.

Altres would make up the most ridiculous songs, usually about something that never could have happened and he’d get the kids and koblins to join in.

It drove the Rangers crazy as the sound attracted beasts from far and wide. Beasts they had to defend against to keep those very same koblins and children safe.

“Are you sure?” Hal asked.

Altres motioned to his body. “Tiefling’s don’t exactly have a stellar reputation on account of our rakish good looks and, yeah, maybe the part demonic origins but whatever. Their loss. I’d rather stay with my new best friends!” He reached forward and rubbed back and forth along a koblin’s masked head.

The koblin giggled and pranced around excitedly.

Hal wouldn’t have been surprised if Altres became more popular with the koblins than him by the time Hal got back later in the day.

It didn’t take long for the Rangers to report back. Aside from a few scuffles, it seemed nothing was amiss. They led Hal, flanked by Ashera and Elora, out of the thinning forest that transitioned into a rolling series of steep grassy hills the color of straw.

The hills, with their fur of amber grass, rippled like the sea beneath a sweet autumnal breeze. The oppressive nature of the forest was lifted. The sky remained dark and leaden, promising rain that never seemed to fall.

It was no wonder that they moved within the forest. Out under the open sky anybody atop a hill could see for miles around. By the time they crested the third hill Hal could make out the distant blotch on the horizon that Ashera pointed out as the Sanctuary Town of Murkmire.

Every hill they climbed brought the town closer. Its tall dark stone walls were topped with a red-tiled roof over the battlements and the large bulging turrets.

The town rose in several wide curving terraces carved into a lonely, worn-down mountain that swept away out of sight, hinting at more. Sitting atop the mountain like a jewel in a crown was an expansive castle that stretched across the peak of the mountain with long bridges between its many towers.

Even as far away as they were, Hal could make out the streets that curved through the upper districts. Tall, squarish buildings with steep roofs crowded the winding paths that marched ever upward.

The land surrounding Murkmire was filled with low-lying fog and what Hal guessed to be a swamp or marsh. Tall reeds, bleached a sere yellow, obscured much of the water at first glance. Only when a strong breeze blew across the marsh did the rippling glint of water reveal itself.

Dark stone causeways were elevated out of the muck and joined up with a battered dirt road that wound off through the hills to the east and west out of Murkmire.

Though it seemed close, it took them the better part of an hour to reach the town’s twenty-foot-tall gates. The guard positioned there only glanced their way as they entered the opened gates with a long line of stragglers from the eastern road.

Hal looked over, noticing that they all seemed to be clutching sacks or random possessions as if they just fled some terrible tragedy. Each of them bore a haunted expression. The guards paid them no more mind than they did to the Rangers.

Once they were inside the town, the din nearly overwhelmed Hal. Merchants were hawking their wares, people bustled about and the ever-present ringing of hammer on metal echoed out from every street corner.

After so long in the relative calm and quiet of the forest, he had forgotten how noisy civilization could be. But he didn’t hate it. Far from it.

Every shop had a colorful banner bearing its name and purpose, rich tapestries stretched out over the shop fronts. Merchants of more fantastical races than Hal could keep track of were competing to sell everything from magical crystal shards to bread.

“There’s… so much here,” Hal said in wonderment. He had expected a simple town, especially one so far away from a larger city like Sanctum-Fallwreath. He thought it would be little more than a single main street with a shop or two. Not this sprawling hive of mercantile activity.

The only people who didn’t seem to pay any attention to the riotous display of wondrous items and mingling races were those that had entered through the gate with them.

They looked at the ground and trudged onward, ignoring the colorful claims of the various merchants and the beautiful works of art they had on display.

“You, yes you, fine sir!” a chubby cat-man shouted toward Hal. His eyes were bright green with slits down the center and his gray fur was streaked with darker colors like a tabby cat turned human.

Hal looked over. The man’s whiskers twitched excitedly and he grinned wide. The merchant wore a thick coat with a wide purple scarf around his neck and an opulent necklace dangled beneath it, an array of blue crystals that shimmered and pulsed with an inner light.

The merchant brushed a thick paw over the various crystal shards he had in small glass bowls banded with gold. “Might I interest the fine young master in some of the best Almori Shards money can buy?”

Elora put an arm around Hal and guided him away. “We’re in a hurry, sorry,” she said as she walked Hal away. “We have no money to pay for anything,” she said in a harsh whisper, answering Hal’s curious stare.

“I have some goblin coins,” Hal said.

“You’ll have a hard time finding a buyer and even then you won’t get much for them,” Elora replied, as they wound their way through the throng of people. “Keep them for now, we might find a merchant who will be interested in them.”

Delicious scents assaulted Hal’s nose and made his stomach rumble. Freshly baked bread, decadent sweets, and roasted meat swirled in the air to create a heady concoction that had Elora tightening her grip on his shoulder.

Hal’s mouth watered and his stomach growled in objection as they passed a place called The Lost Lamb where most of the mouth-watering smells were coming from.

Only once they had passed up the slanting thoroughfare, away from the merchants and into a plaza with the statue of a woman frozen in mid-dance atop a fountain at its center did Hal regain some measure of self-control.

“If we have no money,” he said a little sharper than he meant to. “How are we going to get supplies?”

Elora motioned to one of the Rangers who vanished into a nearby blunt-faced building. Unlike all the others that were curving and attractive to the eye, that building was simple and flat. Almost brutalist with its harsh lines.

“There are some people here who are understanding of our cause and what we aim to do. They will help outfit us for the journey ahead,” Ashera added with a calming smile.

“What about the koblins?” Hal asked.

Elora seemed to have been waiting for that. She shared a look with Ashera. “If there is any town within the realm of Fallmark that will take them in, it is Murkmire. We will speak with the guard and make sure they know they are not a threat. We’ve been over this.”

Just as Hal was about to object, the door to the blunt-faced building opened and out poured a dozen guards in full bronzed platemail, marching in two lines. Their breastplates were far more ornate than anything Hal had seen up until that point.

The armor was cunningly worked, comprised of ever-smaller plates that slid over one another soundlessly and smoothly. Their design left no gap in their considerable form-fitted defense.

The men looked lean and agile without the stereotypical fantasy-bulk, while the women’s curves were shown off without suffering from the dreaded bikini armor.

A man in the same bronzed plate mail but with brown accents across the curves came up the center of the two lines. “I am told you have come across a goblin encampment and cleared it out, yes?”

He was tall and just as blunt-faced as the building he resided in. His hardened eyes, like two chips of steel, flicked over each of their faces taking their measure.

“We happened across the goblin den while we were out hunting,” Elora said. “Once we dispatched them, we learned they had been keeping children as prisoners. We’ve taken them with us and kept them with some allies to the south, at the edge of the woods.

“We’ll gladly take you to them. Most don’t speak. And honestly, we wouldn’t be able to find their villages even if they knew where they were on a map.”

The guard snorted. He clearly didn’t think that likely. “You three will come with us, we’ll keep your friends in the guard station just in case there’s any… inconsistencies.” He gave a thin smile at them. “I’m sure you understand. Bandit raids in the area have been at an all-time high. If, however, you find that you were mistaken about the whole affair we’ll drop the entire matter and I will pretend this never happened.”

Elora shrugged it off. “Fine by me.” She stepped aside, motioning. “After you, sir…?”

There was a flash of surprise as Elora stuck to her story but the man recovered quickly. “Qalmor Brinstin, Captain of the Murkmire Watch,” he said formally with a fist to his breast and a perfunctory bow. “And you are?”

“Elora.”

“My name is Ashera.”

“Hal.”

“A pleasure,” Qalmor said. “Shall we be off then?”

With that, everybody headed back where they’d come from and Hal had to wonder if the Rangers couldn’t have brought the guard out to them rather than coming into the town itself.

Everything about Aldim seemed larger than life. The forests were massive. Trees towered like wooden skyscrapers. The cities were the size of metropolitan areas and the towns were as big as any city back home.

The scope of everything was hard for him to wrap his head around.

Murkmire was far larger than anything he ever associated with as a town. Towns were tiny places, quaint and sweet. This was a bustling metropolis with pale stone buildings that rose up several stories around him.

Looking over his shoulder at the rise of the city’s many terraced rings, Hal saw that the walls surrounding each district were more ornate and made of lighter colored stone with each level. The buildings grew shorter and vanished entirely behind the pale walls of the upper reaches.

It was hard not to gawk and stare at everything like some kind of gormless tourist. This was far from anything he had expected from his stay in Aldim.

Murkmire was filled with architecture that was both enrapturing and functional. The streets were paved in hexagonal stones that fit together without a single crack or weed sprouting up among them.

This was so far from the dirty medieval lifestyle that he expected to find all over again. The varied races were out in full force, people mingled without constantly dueling in the streets and there was a suspicious lack of filth and trash.

Hal was tempted to ask about it but felt that he’d be overheard with the Watch so close. The trio was flanked by a row of bronze-plated guardsmen, while the captain himself stayed several steps behind. The last thing he wanted to do was tip off the guard to how strange he found everything.

Every shop they passed, Hal wanted to rush up to the table or burst through the open door to look at all the wondrous objects on display.

I really need to get my hands on some money. I don’t even know what they use here.

The shopkeeps clamored for the attention of the Watch, nearly ignoring Hal, Elora, and Ashera. Hal made a note of how they treated the Watch, they weren’t fearful nor excessively respectful.

In fact, they were treated like normal citizens.

The only major difference was that the townspeople were quick to move out of the guard’s way. They did not bow or scrape as they passed, to Hal it reminded him of people pulling over in cars when an ambulance or fire truck was behind them. Just something they did out of habit and then got on with their lives.

They were back out of the gates in no time at all without Hal holding them up, inspecting every shop, or being lured by silver-tongued merchants. He wanted nothing more than to rush back into Murkmire with a fistful of gold and have a full week to see all the magical items on display.

His perception was going crazy, highlighting and limning various items in shimmering auras that marked them as magical in nature.

I never would have thought of a place named Murkmire was a bustling trade metropolis.

The Captain went ahead of the group and exchanged a quick word with the guard at the gate out of earshot and then they were off into the marsh, taking the causeways that led them up into the rolling amber hills. From their position, the hills crested so high above them that he couldn’t even make out the distant treetops in the forest ahead.

It felt like they were standing before golden waves frozen in time just waiting to crash down on the unsuspecting travelers.

Even with the Captain showing them the best paths to take, it still took them nearly an hour to reach the forest’s edge.

As they were nearing the final rise, Hal decided it would be best to bring up their “allies” since nobody else seemed to want the job. “There’s something else,” he said, slowing his pace to match Qalmor.

The Captain gave him a wary look, the silver circlet that graced his brow glinted in the watery daylight. Hal hadn’t noticed him wearing it before. Which would have been hard to miss considering his hair was shorn close on the sides and the top was slicked back, easily revealing his sharp features.

“What do you know of koblins?” Hal asked.

25

“I have heard of koblins, but only in passing. Why?” Qalmor asked. “What does that-”

The Captain’s words were cut short as they neared the edge of the forest and a koblin sauntered into full view. At once thirteen swords cleared their scabbards.

Hal rushed out ahead of the group and stood in front of the suddenly frightened koblin who had fallen with a squeal of surprise onto his backside.

He turned, keeping the koblin behind him protectively. “No! They mean no harm, without them the children would have died. We would have died without their help.”

Nobody put their swords away but Hal did notice they held them a bit more relaxed. “Tell me why I shouldn’t run you all through immediately for an attempted ambush of the Watch,” Qalmor said.

“Because if I were going to ambush you,” Hal began with as much calm as he could, “I would have led you inside the forest and out of sight before springing a trap. What idiot would try to explain the very – supposed – trap before unleashing it?”

The Captain let out a rough chuckle. “I’ve met a lot of idiots in my day, son.” His sword point tipped to the dirt. “Fine, you’ve made your point. Now, allow me to make mine.”

With a snap of his fingers, the members of the Watch surrounded Elora and Ashera, swords pointed.

Hal’s heart pounded in his chest at the speed of the maneuver. Elora, with her swift reaction, had only the time to touch the blade at her hip. A motion she was now undoing with great care.

Qalmor stepped up to Hal and clapped him on the shoulder. “We will go inside and see these children.” He turned and called over his shoulders at the Watch, “If I do not come out in five minutes, detain these two and report back to the gate guards for reinforcements.”

It wasn’t ideal but as much as Hal wanted to, he couldn’t fault the man’s pragmatism. In the end, it was probably more than he would have gotten anywhere else.

Context is so important. And history. I know nothing about this place. Adorable, funny people like the koblins are endearing to me but I have no prejudices against their goblin brethren. These things were all make-believe and fun when I was growing up. Not horror stories told by my parents to keep me from wandering too far.

When Hal didn’t move, Qalmor cleared his throat. “After you.”

“Yep.” Hal turned to the koblin and helped him up. “Can you run along to the camp and let them know we’re coming?”

The koblin did a funny little salute – it was becoming more common than he liked whenever he asked them to do something – and hurried off into the forest.

“For such a small creature, they move very fast,” Qalmor remarked.

“They’re full of surprises if you’d let them show you.”

To that, Qalmor had no reply. They pressed into the forest and before long were flanked by two Rangers.

“Everything okay?” Angram asked.

“It’s fine,” Hal said. “Just showing the Captain here that we mean no harm.”

Yesel, who was on the other side of Qalmor looked him up and down. “Eyes like a cow, this one, if he thinks we would show ourselves before harming him.”

Qalmor was about to say something in response but the words died on his lips as they came through a wall of dense overgrowth and he viewed the camp proper. It took a lot longer for his eyes to adjust to the many campfires surrounded by dozens upon dozens of koblins.

Angram clapped the Captain good-naturedly on the back, that the man didn’t respond was a testament to how stunned he was. “See, dear Captain? If we wanted to harm you, we could have simply overrun you.

“But as you can see, the koblins are gentle little lambs.” He pointed to a campfire with a particularly raucous koblin dancing around the flames. “Look at how the children cheer and clap for him. Absolutely menacing!”

The Captain cleared his throat and sheathed his sword. “Yes, yes, you’ve made your point.” The koblins parted readily for them as the Captain and Hal made their way to the children too transfixed with Buffrix’s antics to notice them. “So many….”

Whether he was talking about the children or the koblins, Hal couldn’t be sure.

“Now that I have seen them with my own eyes, we can return.” Qalmor gave Hal a wry look on the way back. “I would not wish for any harm to come to your companions.”

Hal couldn’t help the blade-thin smile that curved his lips. “I was just about to say the same thing.”

As practiced and skilled as the Watch were, Hal wouldn’t bet against the Rangers on their home turf.

* * *

The next few hours were a flurry of activity as Qalmor organized a detachment of the Watch to escort the children safely into Murkmire. The whole affair took far longer than it should have to Hal, mostly due to bureaucratic nonsense that Hal hardly was able to follow.

Tilda, the waifish girl who had seen his Founder’s mark, ran up to him and hugged him so tight around the middle he could hardly breathe. “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered. “When I grow up I want to be just like you. I’ll make you proud, Hal!” With that, she spun and darted off to join the children.

After the children were safely within the town’s walls, Qalmor turned to Hal in the cramped Watch Tower. “Your group has done an amazing thing, bringing so many little ones back from the brink. They have suffered a great ordeal, that much is obvious, but it is better than being dead. Come, we’ll put in a good word at the Laden Coinpurse Inn for you and yours.”

“I doubt they have room for nearly two hundred people,” Hal said skeptically.

That brought the Captain up short as he headed toward the stairs that led to the first floor. “What do you mean? There are even more of you?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Hal made a motion vaguely in the direction of the forest where they had left a few Rangers and the koblins to make a defensive camp until they came back. “The koblins are still out there.”

The look of realization on Qalmor’s face told Hal all he needed to know.

“You aren’t going to let them into the town,” Hal guessed. “Are you?”

The Captain placed a palm on the crystalline pommel of his sword and leaned against the balustrade that fenced off the stairs. “I am not on the Council. I am not able to make laws or even force people to follow the ones we do have. And even were I able to, you would find no inn or tavern willing to put up so many of the creatures, let alone possess the space.”

Hal’s chair toppled to the ground as he sat up, fire in his dark brown eyes.

The Captain held up a hand. “Peace, son. I mean no disrespect to the creatures, but most people would not be able to see the difference between them and the raiding goblins you have cleared out for us. I’ll tell you what. Find a place that will take them in - all of them, mind - and I will allow them entry into the city for as long as they have lodgings.”

New Quest: Rest for the Weary.

Find somewhere within Murkmire that will lodge the koblins.

Objectives

- Question local innkeepers.

- Find a place for the koblins to rest within the safety of Murkmire’s protective walls.

Rewards

- Murkmire Reputation (Variable).

- Koblin Reputation (Variable).

- Experience Points (Variable).

It seemed obvious that Qalmor was just trying to appease him. But Hal wasn’t about to back down. He accepted the Quest and was determined to complete it.

He was not going to leave Murkmire with the koblins out on their own. With the Rangers protecting them and finding proper shelter, they were safe for the time being.

But when the Rangers left with him to the Shiverglades….

It boiled Hal’s blood that the koblins were treated like some animal to be kept out in the rain with the numerous dangers that lurked just outside. Hal turned to the Rangers gathered there but they were already on their feet.

Angram patted Hal on the shoulder as he passed him, following the other Rangers to the stairs. “No need to say it,” he said. “We’ll watch over the koblins and find a semi-permanent home. I think Myla said she spotted some caves to the south. At any rate, it will be an easier job than finding a place that will put them up in town by far. I do not envy you.”

“He isn’t wrong, you know,” Qalmor said after the Rangers had left. “This area is particularly thick with beastmen activity and the goblins have been notoriously active of late. But if you want my advice? Try the Gone Goose in the Mason’s Ring, two rings up from here. Tell the Tavernkeep that I sent you.”

Together, Hal, Elora, and Ashera filed out of the tower and headed up the thoroughfare toward the first of the inner walls separating the districts. It took them ages to navigate the winding curved streets and packed multi-story buildings that blocked sight of anything beyond the next turn.

The town was made up of concentric rings that grew smaller and tighter the farther up the mountain they went. Every tavern or inn they passed, they popped inside to ask the proprietor about letting the koblins stay or if they knew anybody who would.

The result was the same almost every time. They first had to explain what a koblin was and that, “Yes, I’m sure I didn’t mean goblin,” upon which one of two outcomes happened; either they were laughed out of the place, or chased out.

Nobody was willing to even hear them out.

The whole affair grated on Hal’s nerves and by the fifteenth place they were kicked out of, he wondered if perhaps it was the koblins that were too good for the likes of Murkmire.

Compared to the bigoted people they had met so far, the koblins were saintly. They had immediately jumped at the chance to help. The innkeepers couldn’t even spare a single room. Hell, they wouldn’t even give them a place to sleep in the stable.

“Is this whole city uphill?” Hal griped, wondering if putting a few more points into VIT would prevent the cramps in his legs.

Elora shook her head at him. “Considering it’s built into a mountain, yes.”

“It was nice of the Captain to point us in a promising direction at least,” Ashera said as they climbed another sloping ramp up through a pale stone gate flanked by two members of the Watch. “Oh, look, there it is!”

Sure enough, not far to their left after entering the Mason District was a sign that very clearly had a painted goose on it. As they got closer it read, “The Gone Goose Tavern.”

“If this is some tongue-in-cheek joke about how Qalmor sending us on a wild goose chase, I am going to lose it,” Hal said, wrenching the large door open.

They were immediately drowned in the sound of music, talking, and uproarious laughter. Best of all was the aroma that wrapped them in a warm blanket of familiar and comforting food. There was freshly baked bread, the heady aroma of beer, and the ever-present smell of roasted meat.

The tavern was warm and inviting. And despite the tables packed with people who were all focused on the performer on the small stage, they found their way to the bar easily enough.

Hal craned his neck every which way trying to look at everything at once. Like everything in Murkmire, the Gone Goose was several stories tall. Its center opened up all the way to the rafters. Several balconies looked down upon the first floor and the stage.

“What can I get ya’ll?” the large man behind the counter drawled. He was absolutely massive and looked like he bench pressed cars for fun. Watching him wipe out glasses with a white cloth was practically comical. He could barely fit two fingers into an empty beer mug.

Not to mention the horns or the messy curls of fiery red hair that drooped into thick muttonchops. Before any of them could respond, the bartender’s bright green eyes fell upon Ashera. “Oh-ho! Another lamora! Don’t see too many of our own kind this far out west.” He smiled handsomely at Ashera who gave him a polite smile back but said nothing.

“Qalmor sent us,” Hal said, hoping that he was the tavern keep. With his white apron over a simple brown shirt and pair of slacks, he fit the bill. Then again, Hal rarely heard of stories where the tavern keeper looked like he could toss a person into the next county.

The tavern keeper nodded sagely and continued to wipe the clean glass for no other reason than to keep himself looking busy Hal guessed. He glanced Ashera’s way every now and then but she wasn’t paying much attention to him or his massive bronzed horns that looked like small spears.

“Well?” Elora prompted, ever impatient it seemed when dealing with people.

“In a rush, are we?” the Tavernkeeper said in his slow rumbling accent. “Very well, don’t get your mana in a twist. First thing’s first. I don’t deal with anybody whose names I don’t know.” He set the mug down, extended one thick hand, and smiled. “Name’s Abegielamanonalos. Most folk call me Giel. As you probably already guessed, I run this place.”

Hal extended his own, Giel’s hand enveloped his up to the wrist but he had a gentleness to him that Hal hadn’t expected. “Hal.”

“Pleasure.” Giel’s eyes widened as he looked at Hal. For a moment the man opened his mouth as if to say something more then shut it audibly. The warmth he had in his smile faltered and he looked like he was staring at a ghost.

“Elora,” the Ranger said sticking her hand out and prompting - once again - Giel into action. The lamora shook out his curls and let go of Hal’s hand as if it were a lump of hot coal, taking Elora’s after a brief pause. He was all smiles after that, but Hal noticed he wouldn’t look at him again.

Hal couldn’t shake the feeling that the big lamora looked like he had seen a ghost.

Once introductions were made and they had explained to Giel what they were looking for, he lapsed once more into silent introspection. “That’s a mighty fine pickle you folks have there. I don’t reckon most would do the same in your shoes. How serious do ya wanna see this done?”

“Badly,” Hal answered. “I get that a lot of places won’t even entertain the idea but if you know anything, please tell us.”

Maybe it was the desperate plea or the fact that Giel couldn’t look Hal in the eye, but in either case, Giel put the mug down on the counter and let loose a gravelly sigh. “I got an idea that just might work. But you sure as shoot ain’t gonna like it.”

26

“Well, are you going to tell us?” Hal asked impatiently. “You’ve been holding that pregnant pause forever.”

The bull-horned innkeeper chuckled and leaned down onto the counter. The wood groaned and creaked. “Thinking it might’ve been adding an air of ‘gravitas’ as they say.”

After the constant string of defeats, it was an effort not to lose his temper. Hal took a deep steadying breath and looked up at Giel who was still taller than any of them even bent over as he was.

“I get it,” Giel said finally, still not looking at Hal. “Ya’ll are in a rush. So, there used to be a district, see? Up on the Cloud Ring with all the hoity-toity types. A full district, gone. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers and it sounded like a small firecracker going off. “One day something came through the protection of the Manasapling and most of the poor folk living there were wiped out.

“It was quite the spectacle from what my ma told me. People thinking the protection of the Founder failed or maybe the Founder was displeased with us. But nawp, none of that. Founder came the next day, sealed the whole thing up and said it was for our own good. Or so the story goes.”

Giel looked directly at Hal then. The big lamora searched his face and furrowed his large brow in confusion when Hal didn’t react how he expected.

“As I was sayin’,” Giel continued, dropping his voice to a low bassy rumble. “That ain’t the whole thing. Ye’see, my ma had some connections at the time and knew a bit more. Wasn’t just a day. No siree. Week or more by her reckoning, all fightin’ some secret battle in the district.

“She never would tell me what exactly happened, but she said the Founder wasn’t there to help us. Good men and women died fightin’ a battle ain’t nobody wants to talk about. So they believe the lie.

“The Founder said that everybody should forget about it. And forget they did. He said it was one day, and the folk of Murkmire that remained repeated that lie until even those that were there began to doubt their own memories. Easier on folk who only care about their bottom line rather than the people of this fair town.

“Weren’t always that way. Folk around here used to have spine. Grit.” He shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “So my ma told me, ain’t seen it myself. My ma carried the secret of that district - even it’s name which was scrubbed from every record - to her grave, rest her soul. Folk now call it the Coffin District on account of its all sealed up like a coffin. But my ma did say a man might be comin’ one day lookin’ to get in to where he ought not to be pokin’ about. If you gather.”

With that, Giel continued to wipe out the nearest glass, staring at them all with a meaningful expression.

Hal shot a concerned glance at Ashera and Elora. “I’m not sure I follow,” Hal admitted. The way Giel was looking at him was making him more than a little uncomfortable.

“Ya’ll need a place for these whatsits-”

“Koblins.”

“That’s the word,” Giel said with another firecracker snap of his fingers. “Ain’t nobody in this godsforsaken town gonna give you the time of day. Much less open their homes and hearths to ‘em. But if’n you could reopen the Coffin District, then you got a mighty big space for them kobbers all of a sudden.

“A place people have long lost their claim to. There’s a big ol’ bounty from the Adventurer’s Guild called the ‘Coffin Contract’, completin’ it gives you the ownership rights to the district wholesale.”

“An entire district?” Hal asked.

“Yep, not a ring mind you, but a district’s plenty large. Each ring is divided up into three districts y’see. And a third of a ring, even the Cloud Ring all the way up there, is a nice chunk of land.

“’Course, you could sell it and probably get yourself a seat on the Council if you didn’t care much for them kobber-folk.”

The vehement shake of Hal’s head at that notion had Giel grinning from horn to horn.

“How long ago was all this?” Hal asked, curious as to how old the Founder was. To set all these towns and cities up he’d have to be well into his fifties. And Elora said there hadn’t been another person marked like him for at least a decade.

That was a long time to solidify a seat of power.

“About twenty-some years ago? I was just a wee calf,” Giel said. “Ever since, the Adventurer’s Guild has also been looking for some people brave – or stupid – enough to find a way into the district and clear it out. Every year that Coffin Contract gets more and more lucrative.”

“Isn’t it as simple as walking into it?” Ashera asked, drawing a broad grin from the innkeeper.

“Why darlin’, it ain’t quite so easy as all that. See, the Founder sealed the area with some of his special magic. Then ordered the Mason’s guild to block up the district tight so nobody tries to wander in. Whole place is a tomb now. Only one way in and it's guarded.

“They only let them with Adventurer Guild badges in. Most people walk straight back out, shaking their heads and claiming it ain’t possible. Some adventurers ain’t never come back.”

“So, let me get this straight.” Hal dropped onto a barstool and for the first time all day, let himself relax a little.

Whether Giel sensed it or he was simply being a good tavern keep, he pulled up the glass mug he’d been wiping and filled it from a massive barrel behind the counter with beer and slid it to Hal.

Hal grabbed it and nodded at Giel. “Thanks. There’s an area of the city, an entire district, that’s entirely walled off and forgotten about? And if we complete this ‘Coffin Contract’ we get the rights to that place? We can do whatever we want with it?”

“That’s right. You can mosey on down to the Adventurer’s Guild if you like and read the contract yourself. All stated very plainly. Now, I ain’t sayin’ you’re gonna succeed where every other has failed but if you’re lookin’ to find a place for your little kobber friends, well…” Giel let the notion hang in the air.

Quest Updated: Rest for the Weary.

Following the mostly fruitless leads of questioning Innkeepers and the like, you’ve come across your first promising thread. If Giel is correct, completing the Coffin Contract will give you the authority to allow koblins to live within the protective walls of Murkmire.

Objectives

- Question local innkeepers (Complete).

- Find out more about the abandoned district.

- Investigate the “Coffin Contract” at the Adventurer’s Guild.

- Find a place for the koblins to rest within the safety of Murkmire’s protection.

Rewards

- Murkmire Reputation (Variable).

- Koblin Reputation (Variable).

- Experience Points (Variable).

Hal took a sip of the beer, unsurprised to find it cold and refreshing.

I love magic, Hal thought with a smirk. He was never a big beer drinker back home but the drink was perfectly balanced with a hint of pumpkin and ginger. It tasted far better than anything he ever had before.

And of course, as one of Hal’s favorite perks of living on Aldim, the drink had magical effects that gave him a series of buffs.

You drink [Giel’s Brew].

+10% HP | +10% SP.

+2 STR | +2 VIT.

Duration: 2hrs.

It was a shame it only lasted 2 hours.

They could ask every inn and tavern keeper in the entire town and they likely wouldn’t get a better opportunity than the one Giel was offering them. Hal noted, however, that the hulking man hadn’t offered his own establishment as possible lodging despite the lead he’d given them.

Not that the nearly 200 koblins would fit. But Giel didn’t know how many there were. They had never gotten that far in their conversations with the various proprietors.

Deciding it was better not to press Giel’s kindness, Hal let the matter drop. If there really was a whole district and he was able to clear it out, there’d be plenty of room for the koblins.

Whether they would want to stay was an entirely different matter. The goblins seemed to have lived somehow without a Sanctuary or Sanctum. Maybe the koblins wouldn’t even want to live in a town.

Somehow he doubted they’d be opposed.

Elora was watching Hal as she drank her own mug of amber liquid.

“You mentioned the Adventurer’s Guild,” Hal said, setting down his mug. “Where could I find them?”

Giel scratched at the scruff of hair at his chin. “Well, you’d want to go down to the Blade Ring, then.” When they looked at him uncomprehendingly he shook his head. His bronzed horns glinted and caught the light like the point of a knife. “You had to pass through it to get up here. It’s the second ring of Murkmire. Just go down one level, ask any of the Watch, they’ll point you true.”

Hal finished his beer and set it down. “I appreciate the drink, but I-”

The tavern keeper raised a massive hand. “You all looked thirsty. It’s on the house. Especially if you’re all going off to try and get into that lost district, it’s the least I could do.”

He was still looking at Hal when they got up to go. “I appreciate it,” Hal said, sliding off his stool.

“Hold your karaks just a moment,” Giel said, and his tone gave Hal pause. “You truly going into the Coffin District?”

Hal shrugged. “I’m going to try.”

“Then might be I have something for you.” Giel was staring at Hal again. “It’s just in the back here, if you’ll follow me.”

Elora was already shaking her head. “Wherever Hal goes, we go.”

Giel looked at each of them in turn, his frown turned into a grin as he took in the protective stares of Ashera and Elora. “Well then, that’s quite the twist. This way.”

The big lamora led them behind the bar and into a side room. Once they were all packed in, he moved a shelf laden with expensive looking bottles of liquor out of the way.

A gentle glow grabbed Hal’s attention and he spotted small hidden grooves in the floor that let the shelf slide easily enough that the bottles didn’t even rattle.

Your Perception has risen to Level 4.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+8%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+20%).

Elora came forward, a hand going to the curved dagger sheathed at the small of her back. But as soon as she saw the room beyond she froze.

Ashera let out a gasp as she stepped into the room. Giel followed in after her, beckoning Hal and Elora.

Once Hal was inside, the shelf and the hidden door behind it slid shut.

The room was far larger than the tiny storeroom, with more than enough room for ten times their number. It was a secret planning room. The walls were decorated with scorched and singed banners that Hal didn’t recognize but it seemed Ashera and Elora did.

A large round table dominated the room with papers and notebooks all about and as its centerpiece was a replica of Murkmire. Moving closer, Hal could see the weathered old mountain and the rings that circled it.

It had amazing detail, but what was most interesting was that it was hinged. The replica was half-opened on one side, showing complex cavern systems and many hidden rooms deep within the mountain.

“What is all this?” Hal asked.

“It’s an old rebel planning room,” Ashera said. She walked through the room, gently touching things as if to remind herself that they were real. Her mouth was perpetually open in wonder.

“My ma’s,” Giel said, nodding toward the head chair at the table. “The Gone Goose was hers too. Forgive me for asking so bluntly but I couldn’t rightly do it out in public. You’ve got the mark, don’t you?” Giel turned his gaze toward Hal.

Hal tensed but saw the way Ashera and Elora were relaxed and he followed suit. “How’d you know?”

Giel pulled out a seat and sank into it. “I already told ya’ll. My ma said that one day a man would come looking to get into the Coffin District. And when he did, I was to give him somethin’.” He held up one thick finger. “If and only if he had a mark that glowed like the setting sun.”

“Who was your mother?” Ashera asked, turning to Giel.

“A kind woman who wanted better for Murkmire,” Giel answered. He motioned to Hal. “I noticed how none of ya’ll seemed to recoil at so much paraphernalia, so it would seem my ma was right. Show me this mark, if you got it.”

Hal rolled up the sleeve on his left arm and used Mana Investiture to create a smooth cut line on both sides of the makeshift bamboo bracer. “Sounds like you risked a lot just to show us,” Hal said, taking off the two halves and showing his mark to Giel. “What if we weren’t who you thought?”

Giving a long appreciative whistle, Giel leaned in for a better look and said, “Ain’t never been steered wrong by her before. Don’t expect to now. It worked out all right in the end, didn’t it?”

“It’s hard to refute that,” Elora said. She gasped and picked up a small faceted crystal with a shield-like rune carved into it. “Is this what I think it is?”

Giel turned and chuckled. “Sure is, ain’t many Class Crystals about these days since the Founder cleaned ‘em all up.” He wagged a mocking finger at her. “Dangerous things you know. Founder says hundreds have died already. Better leave ‘em be.”

Elora shook her head. She came over to Hal, showing him the faceted jewel. “This is a Class Crystal, it’s inscribed with all of the knowledge a person needs to become an entirely different Class. I thought the Founder destroyed them all.”

“You thought wrong,” Giel said, sitting back and reaching under the table for a hidden drawer. “Everything seems in order. Gotta say, didn’t expect the man that would come see me would be flanked by such beauties.” He shot Ashera a wink as he pulled out a small parcel the size of a paperback book. He handed it to Hal.

The item was heavier than he thought, wrapped tightly in a velvety black cloth tied with golden thread. Hal could feel the magic within. “What is it?”

“No idea,” Giel said.

“You mean you’ve never looked?” Hal asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I made a vow not to,” he said solemnly, pushing his large palms against his knees and standing. He gently plucked the crystal from Elora’s hands and placed it back where she found it. “Just as I vowed not to show anyone this place except the man with a mark. And I always keep my word.”

“Are you not afraid somebody will turn you in?” Ashera asked, motioning to the whole of the room. “This is… a lot, Giel. Any official that saw this would burn the entire place down and sentence you to a very painful and public death.”

“Then I’ll count my lucky stars that ain’t nobody going to turn me in,” Giel said with a hearty chuckle. “Ya’ll wouldn’t be in the company of a fledgling Founder if ya’ll were law abidin’ citizens.”

“Point taken.”

Hal untied the gold thread and slipped the book out from the black cloth. Bound in plain brown leather, it looked like an ordinary journal.

Unlike most items, the journal’s name was immediately known to Hal. It was simply called [Unknown Codex].

Opening to the first page, Hal’s eyes struggled to adjust to the moving text.

The dark parchment was filled with glittering cramped sigils and runes of gold. They sparkled with an inner light, dazzling Hal. Each of the sigils rippled and floated just above the page the longer he stared, making it difficult for his eyes to focus on any of them.

Cramped though the pages were hundreds of different sigils, there more than a few blank sections Hal was certain should have been filled.

No, not blank, he realized a moment later. The ink was faded and difficult to read but the sigils were there if he looked hard enough. Only, they were ordinary. There was no magic in them anymore. They didn’t float and shimmer just off the page like the others.

Your Perception has risen to Level 5.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+10%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+25%).

+10% Danger sense (+10%).

Before he could dwell on it much further, a terrible migraine assaulted him. His head pounded and he shut the book forcefully. Only then did the headache begin to abate.

Three sets of eyes turned to him. “Hal, are you all right?” Ashera asked, coming to his side.

“I will be in a second,” he said through gritted teeth. He offered Ashera the book. “See if you can make out what’s in here.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“She means,” Elora said from across the room, “that you should take greater care with such a book. If Giel was instructed to only give it to a Founder, it stands to reason others might not be able to read it.”

“It is likely protected,” Ashera added. “With luck, I would see nothing. If I were not lucky? I might suffer an ailment meant to discourage prying eyes. In either eventuality, I would not be able to read it.”

With a sigh, Hal tucked the book away.

“Giel,” Elora said, looking up from a partially burned tapestry hanging on the wall. There was a golden triangle motif on its dark brown background. The gold thread used for them shimmered whenever the tapestry moved.

“What can I do for ya?” he asked, swinging his gaze from Hal to Elora.

“How are the sympathizers doing?” she asked, a thread of worry creeping into her usually calm, melodic voice.

“They aren’t,” came Giel’s simple reply.

“What do you mean?” she asked, stalking toward him.

“Nearly a month back the last few that I knew about fled. Something about an investigation. Seems like that sort of thing’s been on the rise of late. It’s one of the reasons I aimed to never open this here room except for one like him.” He nodded in Hal’s direction.

Elora was already headed to the exit. “Ashera, Hal, we need to go. Now. I had Eindor looking for our contact once we came back into Murkmire.”

Nodding, Ashera joined her. “And you fear that if they were taken not only will our supplies be gone but there may be somebody watching their place.”

“Exactly,” Elora said.

Giel ambled over to the door. “You’re free to come spend your nights at the Gone Goose, no charge of course. I’ll reserve a few rooms for ya’ll.” He threw a wink that included all of them this time. “Just in case.”

They were out in a flash, Elora was practically running by the time they were back in the Mercantile Ring. She dragged them through one narrow slanting alley after the next. The dark of night was full upon them as they splashed through standing pools of water and scattered the various alley cats back to their homes.

Eindor was sitting on an upturned barrel whistling and whittling at a crossing of three alleyways. Elora cursed under her breath - she had been doing that nearly non-stop since leaving the Gone Goose - when she saw Eindor’s somber expression.

“It’s gone,” he said with a shake of his head.

A dark shadow dropped from the rooftop behind them. Another Ranger dressed all in dark clothes. “The safe house is burned down,” she said. “Our supplies are gone. All contacts are burned from here to Fallwreath. We have nothing.”

Ashera had to hold Elora up as the blow struck her. “Years of work…” she muttered under her breath. A stiff wind would have bowled her over right then. Ashera muttered comforting words to her and held her tightly.

Hal looked up at Eindor and the elf gave him a sympathetic look. “Murkmire is a large place,” he said in a low voice, answering Hal’s questioning look. “A few of us were to come here once you made it to the Shiverglades and pick up supplies. Wagons, lumber, tools, all the things you would need for a burgeoning settlement. The sort of thing that would take a lot of money. That’s all gone now.”

Moving closer to the man and giving Elora her space, Hal dropped his voice. “So this place I’m to make… this safe haven is what? Bankrupt?”

“Essentially,” Eindor said. “What money the rebels had was pooled together and over the years supplies were gathered in the hopes that one day we would have a need for them. Elora has a good reason to be upset.”

Eindor jerked his chin toward the two women holding each other. “Her father died for this. And much of her young life has been dedicated to an arrival such as yours. We have been waiting for a new Founder for many years now.”

Hal leaned back against the brickwork of a nearby building. He had no idea. Elora never shared any of that. He rebounded surprisingly quickly though, focusing on the only positive he could find.

“Then it’s a good thing we came to Murkmire,” he said. “Let’s go back to the Gone Goose. We can talk about it more there.”

When they returned to the Gone Goose, Giel took one look at the band and held out three keys to them. “Last three rooms on the top floor,” he said.

Hal nodded his thanks and they wound their way through the thick evening crowds up to the quieter inn rooms.

They piled into the first room. Eindor slipped outside. The other Ranger - Hal never got her name - unlatched the window and disappeared outside. Ashera shut the window behind her.

A faint tap echoed on the window, another on the door. “All clear,” Ashera said.

Elora turned red-rimmed eyes his way, her expression questioning with the faintest glimmer of hope. Hal realized he had to give her something. Anything to hold onto at that moment.

“Think about it,” he said, forcing himself to be optimistic. “We are in the best place possible to hear this news. It is devastating, and I’m saying that as somebody who barely understands. But we could have already been in the Shiverglades, hoping and relying on supplies that would never come.”

Ashera sat down on the bed beneath the window and put her chin into her palm, thinking.

Your Persuasion has risen to Level 3.

+1% Persuasion success (3%).

+0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (1.5%).

Your Leadership has risen to Level 6.

+1% Party Damage (6%).

+2% Leadership Efficacy (12%).

Elora paced, slowly nodding along with Hal. “And we have a lead,” she added. “Giel mentioned that this Coffin Contract thing gave, as a reward for its completion, an entire district’s ownership.”

She raised a hand to stop Hal before he could object. “A single block would be enough to house the koblins. We could sell the rest and have more than enough funds to purchase our supplies. We could even cover up the reasoning by saying we were trying to renovate the buildings.”

Nodding emphatically now, Elora seemed filled with manic energy. “Yes, this could work. We’ll stay here a few days longer, tell the Rangers to dig in and find some suitable shelter-”

“Angram already said Myla found some caves they might be able to use,” Hal interjected.

“Good,” Elora said. “That should be an easy task with so many koblins.”

“And even if we can’t do the Coffin Contract, we could stay here and do some other work, right? This Adventurer’s Guild must have other lucrative bounties that we could do. If I’m able to fight different types of monsters, I’ll be able to get a new Class and contribute more.”

“We could probably use the Rangers to hunt a few bounties if they have any for the surrounding regions,” Ashera agreed. “It might take some time but I hear the Adventurer’s Guild pays well.”

“Only one problem,” Elora said, sitting down on a chair near the cold fireplace. “We aren’t members of the Adventurer’s Guild.”

Stretching and yawning wide, Ashera said, “We can fix that in the morning, can we not? I do not know about you two, but I am looking forward to a hot bath, clean sheets, and a soft bed to sleep in.”

27

“I’ll talk to Eindor,” Elora said, her back straight once more. “We’ll use him to liaise with the Rangers so they can be kept abreast of our situation.”

“How are you holding up?” Hal asked Ashera once Elora was out of the room.

For a moment Ashera furrowed her brow in confusion, then understanding dawned, slow and steady. “Oh. Yes, that.” Once again, her hand went reflexively to the scarf around her neck. A habit Hal noticed she had developed.

“Much better, thank you. It is… very odd to be without it. It gave me a strange sense of purpose. I feel guilty when I think about it still, as if I should abjectly hate it but I don’t. In a way… I miss the way it made me feel.

“Like I was fulfilling a higher purpose. That I was safe with it on. Protected. I feel… sick when I realize I feel that way. Betrayed by my own emotions. I was like some obedient animal, conditioned to want the fake comfort of my cage, mistaking it for a home. A cage I would still be trapped in, if not for you.

“There is not much I can ever do to repay you, Hal but I want you to know that I will make it my life’s goal to do so. You have given me so much with that one act.” Tears shone in her eyes and she quickly brushed them away. “If I were to die tomorrow, I would die happy. I have always wanted to see the world, even if it is harsh and dangerous.”

She shook her head. “I never expected to come with Elora. We had grown… somewhat distant as of late. I am glad I can be here for her, and for you now. My life finally has a purpose again and one of my own choosing.”

Your Leadership has risen to Level 7.

+1% Party Damage (7%).

+2% Leadership Efficacy (14%).

Elora walked back into the room. She eyed each of them suspiciously for a moment before saying, “All right, that’s all settled. Who is going to take a bath first?”

Hal furrowed his brow at her. “Giel gave us three keys,” Hal said, holding up two extra bronze keys. “We each can have our own room now.”

“Uh-uh.” Elora shook her head. “We stay in the same room just in case. We’re stretched thin without the Rangers able to watch our backs all the time.”

“Do you really think Giel would let something happen to us?” Hal asked. “I mean… considering what he shared with us, it would be in his best interest to make sure we weren’t harmed.”

“Are you willing to take that risk? For one night of sleep? We’ll pull two mattresses into this room and be done with it,” Elora shot back.

As much as Hal was looking forward to the privacy, he agreed with Elora.

Sleeping in communal tents or out under the open stars with dozens of people - mostly koblins - around was far from comfortable.

He was used to his own bed. His small apartment back in Seattle was at least private and all his own.

Ashera had, quite clearly, claimed the bed in that room already. Hal tossed Elora a key and they dragged their mattresses into the room. Hal set up near the fireplace with Elora taking up the spot closest to the door.

As soon as he had set the mattress down, Hal got a new prompt. Upon closer inspection he realized it was the same one he got when camping with the Rangers. Only worded slightly different.

You gain the effect of Shelter.

+400% HP Regeneration.

+400% SP Regeneration.

+400% MP Regeneration.

+100% Healing effects.

Duration: While sheltered.

“You can take the first bath,” Ashera said, drawing him from his inspection. “I will take one in the morning.”

Hal was rather astounded to find a fully functioning bathroom. No shower, but there was a simple bathtub, toilet, and sink with a mirror.

There’s running water!

He never thought he’d miss indoor plumbing as much as he did.

Drawing himself a hot bath, Hal peeled off his filthy clothes and dropped them in a wicker hamper nearby. He would never again take simple luxuries like hot running water for granted again so long as he lived.

He ended up falling asleep in the tub until the water started to turn cold and his skin was all pruney. He jerked awake when Elora started pounding on the door asking if he was all right.

As fast as he could, he rinsed off and dried with a fluffy towel. When he went to the hamper to retrieve his clothes, he started. He was dreading putting those filthy sweat and grime-soaked clothes back on after finally being clean after what felt like years.

But to his surprise, his clothes were neatly folded. They were laying atop the hamper, glowing in the subtle light of his Perception identifying the thing as magical. And they were clean. His pants and long-sleeve shirt were still poorly made but they were no longer dirty.

Putting his clothes back on, Hal left the bathroom and dropped into his pillowy mattress.

He was out cold in seconds.

Those strange glittering sigils haunted his dreams. They swirled around him in the dark. A sea of arcane symbols washed over him and threatened to drown him.

When he woke the next morning, his strange dreams were already fast receding. Ashera and Elora were already awake and waiting for him. Strapping on his equipment, Hal was ready to leave for the Adventurer’s Guild.

They were on their way down into the Blade Ring less than half an hour after Hal woke up. He was still groggy when they came across the imposing structure of the Adventurer’s Guild Hall.

The Adventurer’s Guild was a massive circular building that doubled as an eatery, a bar, and an inn, all rolled into one towering structure that stretched high into the drizzly morning sky.

The inside was warm, filled with shouting and talking, the clink of tableware, and the smell of home-cooked meals. Hal was instantly in love with the place. People in armor milled about, meeting up with other adventurers or going about their business.

Hal had never seen so much variety in armor and weaponry.

There was eastern-inspired armor, knightly tabards and plate mail, shifting colored cloaks that blended into the wooden tables, scantily clad bards regaling their tables with recent exploits, and everything in between.

Some women wore nothing more than a bikini in terms of armor and others were so buttoned up in steel and metal that they looked like walking tin cans.

The men were no less varied with several broad-chested individuals sporting little more than a loincloth and tattoos to keep them warm.

Iconic Wizards and Rangers weaved through groups of Knights and Clerics. Vikings and Barbarians caroused and laughed heartily as they tried to outdo each other with feats of strength. There was a surfeit of diversity that kept Hal ogling every passerby.

More than a few were wearing powerful magical items.

Your Perception has risen to Level 6.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+12%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+30%).

It was up to Ashera and Elora to steer him in the right direction toward a dark stone counter with plate glass depictions of daring deeds and epic fights fixed into the arched sign that read “Adventurer’s Guild.”

The uniformed woman behind the counter adjusted her thin black tie and smiled at them welcomingly. “Welcome! I take it by the look of your friend there that you’re new to the Adventurer’s Guild? Excellent! We’re now offering a signing bonus of a hundred sparks for any new Adventurers!”

From the gasps of both Elora and Ashera, Hal guessed that was significant. “Isn’t a signing bonus usually for money?” he blurted.

The attendant blinked her soft teal eyes at him. “Isn’t he just adorable?” she said to the girls. “You must not be from around here! Well, we get all kinds in Murkmire so don’t worry hon, Arabella here will walk you through everything!” She tapped her white button-up shirt, her ruby-painted fingernails gleamed in the lamplight.

“Now,” Arabella began, leaning on the counter and taking out five crystalline pieces. They were hexagonal faceted pieces of crystal the size of poker chips, which sparkled with light every few seconds like a current of electricity was arcing from one side to the next. “These are sparks, I don’t know what they have where you’re from but most of the world uses sparks as currency.

“These little darlings do everything! They can buy you a pint, enchant your gear, grant you a bit of skill EXP, and are dead-useful crafting ingredients. Plus aren’t they just the prettiest?”

She slid the gray-blue crystalline chips around on the table, clinking them together merrily as she spoke. Sparks of light leaped from one to the other whenever they touched.

“Now, there are many ways of getting them but our preferred way is by having you join the Guild!” Arabella flashed a scintillating red-and-black badge in the shape of a shield pinned to her breast.

“By having one of these beauties, every time you kill a monster, it’ll drop sparks! Pretty nifty, huh? Bet you’ve been killing plenty of monsters without getting any sparks. Well, sign up today, get your hefty bonus, and you’ll start earning even more when you go out and beat up on some baddies!”

Arabella’s eyes sparkled with true joy. This wasn’t just some salesman spiel, she sincerely enjoyed her work. It was infectious. Hal watched as she scooped up the sparks and slid them back beneath the counter somewhere.

It was an alluring pitch, he had to give her that. Aside from the monumental implications of a currency that was also both magical catalyst and skill EXP, Hal couldn’t help but think how rich he’d be if he had been a guild member when he’d taken down all those goblins.

He stepped closer to the desk. “Where do I sign?”

Once they were all signed up, each of them received a bronze shield-badge and a small purse with their signing bonus.

Before they left the counter, Arabella stopped them. “I almost forgot something!” The three turned to look at her. “Now that you’re all official members of the Adventurer’s Guild, just show that badge to any of the inn or tavern keeps in the Guild Hall and you get a hefty discount on your food and lodgings. Oh, and assignments are posted on the boards to your left.”

And with that, they grabbed a table and placed an order for food. Only a few tables away somebody struck up a chord and an impromptu performance was put on to the cheering and stamping of the many patrons.

It was some song about the lust of gold and the warning of delving too deep for the glitter of tomorrow. Apparently, a popular one too, as most people lifted a cup and sang along.

The raucous, friendly atmosphere made Hal feel strangely at home. The Gone Goose was hard to beat for a lively, friendly atmosphere but the Adventurer’s Guild managed just fine.

“Couple sparks for something to drink and a meal for a full table?” Elora said as she sank into her chair and drank her cup of dark blue liquor. “I could get used to that. They even have a supplier for common items. Why isn’t there an Adventurer’s Guild in Fallwreath?”

A lean elf in scale mail one table over, her copper-colored hair fashioned into a faux hawk, leaned back in her chair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Elf ears and all that,” she said pointing at the sharp, elongated tips of her ears.

There was a merry light in her violet eyes. “But I heard you asking about the Guild in Fallwreath? Founder’s long since banned the Guild there, by-the-by. We got an uneasy relationship with them Founder-types, they don’t like us nosing around where they don’t want us but most of ‘em can’t deny our usefulness.” Plus, it’s not like Fallwreath accepts foreigners into their city at all. Hal was almost put to death for simply being one.

“How do they get anything done?” Hal asked.

“Mostly private guards and a notice board without cutting the Guild in. Doesn’t sit right with the Matron but not much they can do about it if they want to play nice.

“Not a lot of love for the Founders within the Guild you’ll find. Just a friendly bit of advice since I noticed you were all new.” She pointed at their badges resting on the table and tilted her chair back to rejoin her own table’s conversation.

“She’s right,” Elora said, setting her drink down as the barmaid sauntered over with their food. “The Founder forces anybody looking for adventure and glory to sign up with the Sanctum Guard. That way he has control over them and can tell where they go and what they do.” Ashera shivered and raised her hand to touch the scarf wrapped around her neck. “And it lets people who want to be ‘brave’ and ‘adventurous’ get it out of their system.”

“Couldn’t somebody just… come all the way out here if they wanted to be an actual adventurer?” Hal asked. It didn’t make sense why people would put up with that if they could move and get at least a semblance of freedom.

“That’s a lot easier said than done,” Elora put in. “Think about it this way. Most commoners don’t have enough money to buy a sword, armor, packs, supplies, and rations for the trip. And even if they did, most people are barely beyond Novice and only if they put in the proper paperwork.

“You don’t get experience sitting around at most jobs you’ll find within a city like Fallwreath. Not any experience you could put toward being an adventurer, at any rate.

“Think of what happened to us out on the road,” Elora said, giving Hal a pointed look. “Now, imagine a single person who doesn’t know how to fish, light a campfire, or even know what berries are safe to eat. There’s no hope. Going out on your own is a death sentence.”

Hal let that sink in. And she didn’t even mention how somebody like that could get food once they arrived or where they’d sleep. No wonder the Adventurer’s Guild has a signing bonus. It would be a godsend for any weary traveler to sign up for the sparks alone. And that was if they survived the trip from wherever they came from.

They each ate their meal in relative quiet, and despite Elora’s mask of indifference, Hal caught her eyes wandering about the various adventurers around them with the same awestruck look he knew he had.

The food wasn’t anything specially prepared but it was hearty, simple fare that was rich and flavorful. After skipping dinner last night since they were all exhausted and days of eating rice with simple vegetables, it tasted like heaven.

Hal had a plate of scrambled eggs, a bowl of grits, several slightly charred sausages, crispy bacon, and a stack of pancakes higher than two fists. He had to force himself not to shovel every last bit into his mouth.

You eat an [Adventurer’s Hearty Breakfast].

+5% HP | +5% SP | +5% MP.

+12% HP Regeneration | +12% SP Regeneration | +12% MP Regeneration.

Duration: 8hrs.

It was one of the best meals Hal ever ate. And certainly what he needed that morning. With a tall glass of orange juice to wash it all down, all he was missing was coffee.

Something, when he inquired about it, he was told was in short supply due in no small part to the recent beastmen activity in the region. Coffee was primarily a northerner export and with the roads so dangerous of late, few merchants were risking the trip until the cold of winter forced the raiding bandits into their holes.

When he was done with breakfast, all Hal wanted to do was slump in his chair and close his eyes. He was warm and content for the first time in a very long while.

Instead, he forced himself to go over to the notice boards that lined a substantial portion of the Guild’s inner wall. There were hundreds of postings, papers nailed to the wooden board, some with a variety of weapons even.

One paper was nearly cleaved in half by the large axe that wedged the contract between its edge and the board.

After a quick perusal, Hal gleaned the two major types of postings; contracts and bounties.

Contracts were, as far as he could tell, the same as a Quest. They had specific objectives, outlined rewards, and explained what was expected of the adventurer agreeing to take the contract.

Bounties, on the other hand, were less lucrative but often more open-ended. Kill this roving band of goblins. Find that merchant’s lost gold ring. Deliver a package to a noble.

While they weren’t as valuable, they could be quickly done by anybody who had some decent skill.

The Rangers could probably do quite well with some of the hunting bounties.

But what Hal was looking for, was something very different. Up high on the leftmost notice board was a very old piece of parchment. Splashed with stains and curling at the edges, it was pinned to the board with a jeweled dagger.

The Coffin Contract.

Your Investigation has risen to Level 3.

+1% Investigation speed (+3%).

+2% Investigation success (+6%).

As soon as Hal removed the dagger to take down the parchment, a hearty bell tolled from deep within the Guild somewhere. Dagger and contract in hand, Hal looked over his shoulder to find the Guild’s patrons all turning to stare directly at him.

Not at him, he soon understood. But at the glowing Coffin Contract in his hand.

28

Hal stared hard at the paper in his hand, his jaw slacking further with each line read. Giel wasn’t lying. If anything, he was underselling the Coffin Contract.

The reward was staggering.

Guild Contract Obtained: The Coffin Contract.

For years the town of Murkmire has had a stain upon its great mercantile history. A great tragedy befell the Sanctuary nearly twenty years ago that caused the destruction of the presently-named Coffin District.

Sealed off by the skilled work of the Mason's guild, the Founder erected a barrier to prevent anything from escaping. Unfortunately, that same barrier prevents any and all attempts to reclaim the district.

Nobody knows what lies beyond the barrier. The Adventurer's Guild is offering prestige and a hefty reward for any Adventurers willing to clear out the Coffin District and make it safe once more.

Objectives

- Gain entry to the Coffin District.

- Clear all monsters from within the district itself.

- Additional objectives available.

Rewards

- Guild Rank Increase (Variable).

- District Ownership Rights.

- 20,000 sparks (Per party member).

- Additional rewards available.

Quest Updated: Rest for the Weary.

You’ve banged on doors, spoken to surly townsfolk who preferred to laugh in your face instead of giving a single thought to the plight of the poor koblins. Undaunted, you pressed on. You can continue to search for a kind soul that can house nearly 200 koblins, or you can choose to complete the “Coffin Contract.”

Objectives

- Question local innkeepers (Complete).

- Find out more about the abandoned district (Complete).

- Investigate the “Coffin Contract” at the Adventurer’s Guild (Complete).

- Find a place for the koblins to rest within the safety of Murkmire’s protection.

- Alternative: Complete the “Coffin Contract” and provide the koblins with homes within your newly obtained district (Provides additional rewards).

Rewards

- Murkmire Reputation (Variable).

- Koblin Reputation (Variable).

- Experience Points (Variable).

Hal stood there, staring at that piece of slightly curled parchment for a long while. Ownership of an entire district? He had no real grasp on how much 20,000 sparks was, but it seemed like a lot.

If the three of them pooled their money together, could they purchase all they needed with 60,000 sparks? It definitely seemed plausible.

Maybe they wouldn’t need to sell any portion of the district.

Even if Murkmire was under the Founder’s rule, having a foothold here could prove valuable. But first, he needed to talk to one of the agents about the contract. What they needed was a proxy. Some sort of buffer between the true owners - Hal, Elora, and Ashera - and the name on the deeds claiming ownership.

Without that, it would prove too easy to trace back to them. Even if the Founder didn’t know their name, he could not rely on that holding out for long.

The contract in his hands was a life-changer. Any adventurer who managed to complete it would be set. And likely, even with poor management, their entire lineage would be set as well.

Immediately, the room broke out into whispering. Stabbing the dagger back into the board, Hal returned to his table to find Elora gone.

The music picked up again but it was softer than before, somber. Enough that Hal could make out a few snippets of conversation.

“Did that new guy just take the Coffin Contract?”

“He’s crazy.”

“How long has it been since somebody’s even tried it?”

“Gotta be at least a year or more since Vran said he could get in and never returned,” said a grizzly looking man two tables away.

His table, and a few nearby all raised mugs in memory of the man.

“Might be the lad knows something we don’t,” a heavily armored woman put in.

“Maybe he doesn’t know,” another put in.

The last thing Hal expected was to have so much attention on him suddenly.

“You just took it off the board?” Ashera asked him.

Hal’s brow furrowed. “What was I supposed to do?”

Ashera shrugged.

“There’s a duplicating spell on the Notice Board,” came the familiar tones of the copper-haired elf from earlier. “Accepting a bill doesn’t mean you’re depriving somebody else. Unless of course it’s a unique bill and then it’s first come, first served.” She looked at Hal and Ashera, motioning with the mug in her hands. “Mind if I join?”

Ashera exchanged a wary glance at Hal. Hal motioned for the elf to sit. “Not at all,” he said.

“Thanks.” She took a peek at the bill and let out a low whistle. “Going after the Big Score, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Hal asked, feigning ignorance. He was supposed to be new after all.

“It’s one of the older bills around Murkmire. The Coffin Contract we call it, on account of the… y’know. Deadliness. Also, that’s the name of the district,” the elf explained. “By-the-by, I’m Mira.” She extended her tanned hand to each of them, shaking their hands in turn.

“Hal.”

“Ashera.”

“Where’d the cute little Ranger go?”

Ashera looked over at the counter. Following her gaze, Hal saw Elora talking to one of the Guild agents. “She should be back soon.”

“Do they really call it the Coffin District?” Hal asked, continuing with the charade.

“Yep. It’s even official. Nobody really remembers the old name anyway. They call it that because the Mason’s Guild was contracted by the Founder himself to wall it off from all sides, including from above. So it’s like one big stone coffin. Coffin District.”

“Has anybody come back from attempting this bill?” Ashera asked. She was idly curling and uncurling the edge of the paper. But Hal could see she was subtly reading it.

He had no idea how she managed to keep her expression so calm. When he first read it, he thought his eyes might roll out of his head.

It was a constant effort to remind himself that they probably couldn’t get in. And that this contract had remained so lucrative because every other person who attempted it failed.

“Oh yeah,” Mira said, gesturing widely. “Plenty. Most people give up pretty quick once they get to the area. It’s not like it’s guarded or restricted. Well. It is guarded but they won’t stop you if you’ve got your badge on. If you go in there after they warn you away once, it’s on your head.”

“And what about those that press on anyway?” Elora asked, one hand on her hip standing behind Hal.

“Never seen from again!” Mira cackled happily. “Don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” Mira extended her hand and Elora shook it. “I’m Mira.”

“I’m Elora.” Elora pulled up a seat on the other side of Ashera and looked across her at Hal. “May I?”

Hal handed the contract over to her. Elora was much less practiced at hiding her expression than Ashera. Her eyes went round and wide, her lips slowly mouthed the rewards.

To her, this was a last-ditch effort to get everything back that she lost. It represented a lot more to her than it did to Hal, he realized.

Mira leaned over to her previous table and snatched her plate just as a pair of mages sat down at the empty seats. Her food was a collection of powder-sugar-coated pastries in various whimsical shapes. One of the apricot dragon pastries tried to fly away and she snatched it out of the air, taking a hefty bite out of it.

“You’re not seriously thinking of taking that bill, are you?” Mira asked, pointing a crème horn at Hal.

“Of course, why not?” It offered the perfect chance to help the koblins while simultaneously providing funds for the supplies they would need for a settlement.

He started at that line of thinking, surprised that he was so willing to go along with it. And why shouldn’t I? This world provides so much opportunity. I could make a real difference here. After all they’ve done for me, I at least owe it to them to try, don’t I?

“Wearing that?” Mira asked, drawing him from his thoughts. She looked aghast. “Okay, as an Apprentice rank in the Guild, I cannot in good conscience let you walk into a death trap wearing that. Does it even have any defense?”

“Only the belt and spaulder,” Hal answered.

“No, no, that simply will not do. We’re going to Rondo’s Junkshop, pronto.” Mira stood up and clapped her hands at Hal. “Chop-chop. We need to get there before all the other adventurers start waking up and realize they need some random piece of gear too and head over there!”

He was on his feet and halfway toward Mira’s lithe form before he knew what he was doing. His suspicious glance was met with a sly smile and a crook of her finger. “Come along now, all of you. It’s time you met your new best friend.” She threw them a wink. “Besides me, obviously.”

A burly adventurer came up suddenly to them. “You takin’ the Coffin Contract?” he asked Hal.

“He sure is,” Mira said, draping an arm casually across Hal’s shoulders. She lifted her voice so the gathering group around their table could hear. “And he’s already spoken for Falan. Ain’t no more room in this party, I’m afraid!”

That was met with a lot of grumbling and furtive glances but as they left the Adventurer’s Guild, nobody else asked about the contract.

“What was that about?” Elora asked.

Dragging them along, Mira weaved the group throughout the thronging streets of morning workers. “Your boy here just picked up the most lucrative, prestigious contract in the Murkmire Adventurer’s Guild.

“You’ll attract all sorts of hangers-on. Mostly adventurer’s who’re looking to watch you fail more than anything. Best to let them think you’ve got it all handled. If you need to round out your party, I have a few contacts I can introduce you to.”

“Like yourself?” Ashera asked.

Mira blushed and spread her fingertips across her scale mail armor. “I am honored that you would ask me! Very well, if you insist. You guys drive a hard bargain.”

With a shrug, Elora formed a party with the three of them since her Leadership was highest. They were missing only a single member and Hal intended on paying both Giel and the Adventurer’s Guild a visit before they went in.

He wanted to thank the former and had questions for the latter.

Mira led them out into the street and then down to the first level, the Mercantile Ring. She immediately dove between two towering buildings of stone that slightly bent inward, making the tight alley fall into deep shadow.

They went down one alley after the other, turning down so many cramped passages between impossibly tall buildings that Hal lost all sense of direction.

He nearly ran into Mira when he came around the last corner to find the elven woman standing there staring at a brick wall. She looked over her shoulder at him with a smug look.

Hal looked around trying to understand why she had brought them here. There was nothing but broken crates and standing puddles of murky water.

“I don’t get it,” he said.

“You get it,” Mira said, pointing at Elora. “Don’t you?”

Elora walked up to the brick wall and reached a hand out. She grasped something Hal couldn’t see and twisted her wrist, pushing in at the same time.

A line of light split the brick wall and a doorway appeared, opening onto the inside of a shop filled with dusty morning light from high mullioned windows set into thick wooden frames.

Your Perception has risen to Level 7.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+14%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+35%).

Hal hurried up to the door. Up close, he could see the cunning camouflage used to make it seem like nothing more than a simple brick wall from afar.

Mira looked at Hal as he studied the façade. “Technically, this is the back door,” she explained. “You come through this door, and you’re considered a friend.” She threw him a wink. “With the friends-and-family discount. You walk through the other door and you pay full price. Still a good deal but not nearly as the one you’re about to get.”

She clapped Hal on the back and slipped in ahead of him.

The shop was filled with knickknacks and various potions, most of them not equally filled. It looked like the equipment equivalent of a thrift store. Which, Hal guessed, it was judging by the clear wear and tear on several pieces of armor on display.

Nothing was dirty but the items were clearly not new.

A small fellow stood on a tall ladder cleaning one of the windows near a door that Hal guessed to be the one facing the bustling street. He couldn’t have been any more than four feet tall. His head was bald except for a halo of white puffed hair that stuck out all over.

When he turned, his coke-bottle glasses made his topaz eyes bulge with shock at finding people in his shop so early. “Oh my! Quite the early risers you’ve brought me, Mira!” He had a thick bushy cloud of a mustache that hid his upper lip. It waggled and bristled with each word.

“This is Rondo,” Mira said, hiking a thumb in his direction. “Rondo, this is Hal, Elora, and Ashera. They’re good friends of mine so I’d like you to take real good care of them. These folks are about to tackle their first bill: the Coffin Contract!”

Surprised by the news, Rondo nearly tumbled off the tiny ladder. He swung his arms in a windmilling fashion until he regained his balance, then he hurried down to the shop’s floor. He had on a smart black vest and button-up white shirt with large ruby cufflinks.

Hal’s attention fixed on that, and he knew without a doubt that they were magical.

“My, my! Quite the adventurous lot, eh?” He hurried around the counter at the far end of the shop, disappeared behind it, and then climbed atop a box that let him appear at Hal’s height. “Any friend of Mira’s is a friend of Rondo’s! Come in, come in, browse to your heart’s content! ‘It isn’t new, but it’ll do!’ That’s the Rondo slogan.”

Hal looked around at all the gear, the various weapons, belts, suits of armor, blades, bows, spears, and so much more. His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. This is going to be fun.

29

Hal wandered around the shop looking at everything. There was something for every Class, for every style that he could possibly imagine. And it was almost entirely out of Hal’s price range.

Wow, I really thought 100 sparks would go a little further, he thought, looking at a well-worn but intricate piece of chest armor.

It had a quilted forest-green coat with a high collar and gold threading beneath a half plate chest piece. Its pauldrons were made out of a silvery-blue metal, worked into curling designs along the chest and shoulders.

Revelation Mail

[Body] (Heroic)

Item Level: 45

DEF: 50

AGI +5 | STR +5

Perception +3 | Evasion +5

Slots: 2

DUR: 600/1,500

Lv. 25 All Classes

The pricetag? 2,000 sparks. Cheap, if Mira was any judge but still far out of Hal’s range, even if they pooled every last spark they had, it wouldn’t be close to enough.

And Hal would never ask them to spend their money on him.

He still couldn’t help staring at the armor. Aside from its beauty, it had enough stats to equal two full Level Ups and a lot of skill besides. Not to mention, whatever “slots” were.

“If you don’t mind me saying so,” Rondo said, his elbows propped up on the counter, chin cradled in his palms. “You seem like you’re in need of a little guidance. I’ve seen you look at heavy armor, light armor, medium armor, mage-specific, close-quarters, and everything else in my shop.

“While I enjoy boasting of my large selection as much as any other merchant, my aim is to help young adventurers. Since you are all so happy to go running off into every cave and dungeon that exists, my aim to make it so you survive long enough to come back to town and do it all over again. So, c’mere. Let old Rondo have a look-see.”

While Rondo was correct, Hal wasn’t doing it out of confusion. He was already a few steps on the path to being a battle mage. And he was, so far, very pleased with his Beast Magic.

His perusal was borne out of a desire to understand what kind of armor was out there. And, if he was honest with himself, he liked viewing the different types of armor. Window-shopping for clothes was boring, but for armor with stats? It was oddly enjoyable.

Hal looked wistfully back at the [Revelation Mail] and made his way to the counter.

“Gnomes are wicked good at fitting things together,” Mira added in, suddenly at his shoulder. Her violet eyes glittered with ever-present mirth. “Rondo just happens to be good at fitting people with equipment instead of parts to machines!”

The old gnome snorted at the elf and adjusted his spectacles, peering up and down at Hal. Elora was studiously examining a potion bottle but clearly close enough to Hal that she could step in if something happened.

Something like Rondo trying to pull back Hal’s sleeves, which he didn’t do. Not that it would have done him any good. Hal still had the bamboo bracer on under his long sleeve. He wasn’t taking any chances. Not in a city full of people.

Rondo didn’t do much other than stare at him unblinkingly for nearly two full minutes.

That’s… disconcerting.

Right before Hal was about to ask if everything was okay, Rondo suddenly spoke up, “My oh my, aren’t you a complicated one. Loads of potential, yes, yes, already well on your way to one goal but so many forks in the path! Mage? No. Battle mage? Maybe. Spellslinger? Definitely. Hmm.” He hopped down from behind the counter and began rushing around somewhere out of sight.

The jingle and clank of metal rang out and the rasp of leather followed suit. “Simply put, you’re a puzzle, Hal. One that I intend to solve! I see you’ve already got a good blade, that’ll make this easier.

“You need a proper set of armor like your friends there but even then I daresay I have quite the deluge of improvements for you fine ladies!”

Rondo poked his head up over the edge of the counter and threw a dark red quilted shirt up on the counter followed by a set of leather bracers.

“We’re fine,” Elora said, but Hal didn’t miss the way she looked longingly at a pair of brown leather long boots with half a dozen buckles.

“Strong, though smarter than strong,” Rondo rambled on. “Best to avoid getting hit than weathering damage. Rules out heavy armor immediately. Barely have the strength to wear it anyway! No, better to avoid getting hit, and yet no evasion skill! Strong magic, never felt that sort before though. Quite peculiar indeed.”

“Wait, what do you mean, evasion skill? There’s a skill for dodging?” Hal asked, thunderstruck. Why hadn’t he ever gotten any before? Hadn’t he dodged a few goblin attacks while slipping out of the way?

“Harder than most to Level Up, I’ll grant,” Rondo said, absently tossing a pair of worn, turned down boots onto the counter. “But well worth the effort for those with the reflexes!

“It takes a keen mind and good speed to make any use out of evasion though. Most close-quarter fighters prefer to beef up and overpower their enemies.” Hal could just barely see his white puff of hair as he shook his head ruefully. “We’d have more adventurers if they used their brains a little more!”

Hal took a glance at the equipment Rondo was loading up onto the counter.

Bounding Boots

[Feet] (Uncommon)

Item Level: 12

DEF: 2

AGI +2 | DEX +2

Insulation +2

DUR: 189/300

Lv. 10 All Classes

Traveler’s Aketon

[Body] (Uncommon)

Item Level: 12

DEF: 8

AGI + 2 | STR +1

Insulation +5

DUR: 77/200

Lv. 10 All Classes

Duelist’s Bracers

[Hands] (Uncommon)

Item Level: 12

DEF: 2

DEX +1

Insulation +2

DUR: 81/200

Lv. 10 All Classes

Leg Guards +1

[Legs] (Uncommon)

Item Level: 12

DEF: 4

AGI +2

Insulation: +3

DUR: 129/200

Lv. 10 All Classes

All told, it came to just about 80 sparks. More than reasonable, though Hal was curious if he could squeeze something more in there and he asked as much.

“No, no,” Mira said, hopping up on the counter to face Hal. “You’ll always want to keep some of your sparks on hand just in case. You never know when they’ll come in handy!”

“Why?” Hal asked. “Aside from crafting or as currency, how effective are sparks at raising skills?”

“I don’t know where you got him,” Mira said, jerking her chin toward Hal. “But he is adorable. If you haven’t adopted him, I will.”

“He’s spoken for,” Ashera said without looking up from the thick, battered leather-bound tome she was studying.

“Aw, all the good ones usually are.” Mira looked back to Hal. “So there’s a few things sparks are super useful for in dungeons. Namely, you can convert a single spark to a single point of skill EXP.

“Oh, and if you’ve got any enchanted items, sparks can restore the charges! Though that depends on the strength of the enchantment. Some are one-to-one, others are more drastic like ten sparks for one charge. But still, super useful to do when you’re far from town!”

Mira tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Let’s see, what else, what else…. Oh! Yes, you can also throw them at your enemies and stun them so you can run away!”

“Seriously? They stun on contact?” Hal asked.

“What? No, that’d be silly. But it can be very distracting to get hit in the face with a bunch of crystalline chips! So there’s a chance you’ll surprise them long enough to beat a hasty retreat.”

“Right, so I should keep some sparks on me for emergencies,” he agreed. “Then I’ll just take this stuff here. Thanks, Rondo.”

The gnome took Hal’s payment, wrapped up his order, and handed it to him. Hal immediately thrust it into his inventory for safekeeping.

“Changing room is back through there, third door on the left,” Rondo said, pointing at a swinging saloon-style door that he’d missed earlier.

Hal ventured into the back while the others struck up a conversation.

He was eager to finally be dressed in something that wasn’t made from stolen material. He would finally have something more useful than a wet paper bag in keeping his insides… inside.

Where they belonged.

Slipping into the door, Hal stepped into a small half-circle room with three huge mirrors and one mounted on the door behind him so he could get a full view of his new outfit.

Locking the door, Hal stripped out of his old equipment and into his new armor but paused halfway into pulling on his pants. He kept the [Brave Belt] and the [Spaulder of the Ravenblessed].

The man that stared back at him through those mirrors was hardly recognizable. Hal had gained a little weight after he dropped out of college, depression, poor food options, and a soul-crushing job made it hard to take care of himself.

What he saw in the mirror was somebody lean and fit. Muscular definition lined his arms and legs. He had abs! Small and slight though they were, he had them. His cheeks were defined and slightly hollowed.

If only the mark on his left forearm would do the same. If anything, he swore it glowed brighter. It was practically pulsing with golden light.

Hal quickly slipped on his new gear and kicked his clothes into the corner. He didn’t want them. While he appreciated the koblin-made garments, they certainly weren’t anything sentimental. When he looked back up into the mirror he saw a proper adventurer.

True, the armor was a little frayed around the edges and worn in places, but it didn’t have any blood or dirt and it fit him as if it had been perfectly tailored to his body. He guessed there was some magic that took care of sizing issues.

Rondo hadn’t asked about his size for any of the items now that he thought about it. Wouldn’t that be nice, he mused. Clothes that fit perfectly. No more odd sizes needed.

With his [Goblinbane] at his hip, strapped into his [Brave Belt], he would fit in at the Adventurer’s Guild. People wouldn’t turn their heads to look at him in wonder.

His friends were in the middle of a conversation when he came back. Mira immediately stopped talking and heckled him with a cat-call.

Even Elora looked at him differently, a faint smile tracing her lips.

The only person who looked at him the same was Ashera. Ever since her freedom, she had never seen anything but the best in Hal.

“Thanks for that,” he said to Mira. “I really appreciate you putting this together for me, Rondo.”

“My pleasure! If you survive your foolish quest, make sure to come back and see what else we have that might stop you from dying in your next ill-fated endeavor!”

Once they were out in the alley again, Hal shook his head, unable to stop himself from smiling at the strange gnome shopkeep. “He really has a way with words, doesn’t he?”

“I mean, he’s not wrong. You’re probably going to die,” Mira said, guiding them through the warren of back alleys. “I heard that the barrier kills anybody who touches it. Only the Founder can pass through it.”

Hal and Elora shared a look and for the first time, he saw resignation in the Ranger’s gray-blue eyes.

If she thought he was going to let a rumor stop him, she was sorely mistaken. Seeing the determination in Hal’s eyes brightened Elora’s disposition considerably.

This was his chance to see Founder magic up close, something that had been hidden from all of them but would only be useful to Hal if he was to ever embrace what they said he was.

Mira caught the glance and wrinkled her nose at them. “You guys know something I don’t?”

“No,” they all answered, stumbling their words over each other.

The elf rolled her eyes at them. “Have it your way. What’s next? You’ve got your armor, we have the contract. We need a fifth? I know a few-” Mira was cut off as a shout drew their attention.

“Y-you!” a young woman cried, pointing her finger at Hal. Instinctively, Hal’s eyes flashed to his left forearm but it was covered in a thick quilted sleeve of dark red and a leather bracer over that.

When Hal looked up he noticed Ashera and Elora had also glanced in the direction of his arm. Mira looked curiously at the woman.

The woman was atop Hal before anybody recovered from the sudden shock. She scooped him up in her arms and twirled him around. “You saved my baby girl!”

Her shouts brought more attention, and Hal recognized several of the dour-looking faces as those people that came into town the same day he had. They looked like refugees but now they looked at him with hope and reverence.

“This is him?” asked one of the men, taking his hat off and clutching it in white knuckles. “You saved my Mattias? Is this him, son?” From behind the man’s coat, a young boy peeked out with one purple eye and one blue. Hal recognized him as one of the imprisoned children.

The boy nodded meekly and hid back behind his father’s coat. Tear tracks ran through his soot-stained face. “Bless you, sir. I do not know why you saved our children. They meant nothing to you and we have no gifts to give you.

“Nothing that would rival what you have given us. You have given us our hope back.” He motioned behind him. “There are more that want to thank the one who saved our children. Our homes may be ash but our children live. It is enough to turn a tragedy into a celebration.”

Dozens of rough hands dragged Hal away and it was all Elora, Mira, or Ashera could do just to keep up with the growing throng of men and women clutching their reunited children. Voices raised in shouting his name, parents looked at him like he was some kind of saint.

Like he had all the answers. Did they forget Elora saved them too?

As they dragged him away, he was bumped and jostled in their eagerness to see the man that had saved their children. Once or twice he tried to reach out to Elora or Ashera but every time he caught sight of them, they were farther away.

The crowd swelled around him, leading him down twisting alleys until eventually, he recognized nothing. He couldn’t even see Ashera or Elora anymore.

30

“Hey-hey, what’re you think you’re doing? Lay off him!” Mira cried, from somewhere in the surge of bodies.

“What’s going on here?” a woman’s voice called. “Who in the seven hells thought this was a good idea? Nobody?” Hal heard the woman slapping people away until the group around Hal ducked their head and stepped back, giving him room.

Before him stood a young woman but her pale gray eyes held a depth of sorrow in them even when she smiled at Hal. “You must be Hal,” she said, extending a hand.

“I am Leis. I am so very sorry about all this. Our people meant no harm. They’re just excited and wish to pay their respects. When we learned that somebody had saved our children and had done so without any attempt to get a reward… we were astounded.

“Most of us wanted to meet the man that could be so selfless. A few of us may have gotten carried away, I hope you can accept my apology on behalf of all us poor refugees.”

Mira pushed through the drably garbed men and women until she stood next to Hal, a spear gripped tightly in her hand. She whispered to Hal, “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Hal said. “I think they got a little excited is all. They weren’t trying to hurt me.” To Leis, he said, “I accept, and I’m glad to see so many of the children’s parents are safe. I had… feared the worst.”

Several of the men and women made a sign in the air with their hands and muttered what Hal took to be a prayer.

“Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts,” Leis said. “While many of the children did lose their parents, we will raise those that need a family. Windstrom was always about community first and we will honor those ideals even though our home is lost.”

Elora and Ashera squeezed through the press of bodies and stood by Hal’s side. The girls exchanged curious glances at Mira’s appearance but said nothing.

Hal wasn’t sure how she got there so fast either. One moment she was back with Elora and Ashera, the next she was in the middle of the press like she dropped out of the sky.

“While it is not much, we ask that you take this gift,” Leis said, bowing her head and handing Hal a small egg-shaped jewel that shifted between purple and green as the light played over it.

“It is a Sending Stone and if you are ever in need, speak into that stone and its mate will hear it.” Leis lifted up a similar stone. “We will do everything we can to aid you. It is all we can offer.”

“Thank you,” Hal said, rolling it around in his hand. The colors shifted and Hal found himself entranced by the simple smooth beauty of the stone. “I didn’t do it for a reward.” He slipped it into his inventory. “But I am glad to hear that the children won’t be on their own anymore.”

“We will take good care of the little tikes,” a man said. “We’ll make do, the best we know how. A town as big as Murkmire must have a tiny hole for people like us.”

He seemed so sure, so optimistic. Hal began to wonder if there would be room in the Coffin District once it was cleared. As the new owner, he could set aside some room for the refugees and their children.

The children, at least, wouldn’t mind living alongside the koblins. Of that, he was certain. He caught a few of them looking around as if expecting the strange-talking beastmen to pop out at any moment.

And then he immediately stopped himself. I’m placing too much importance on this one thing. This very particular district that has already foiled so many.

He wanted to promise the underfed children and the sickly people with their stained clothes and scant few possessions that he would find them a home. But he had no idea if he could make good on that promise.

The very last thing these people needed was false hope. So Hal thanked them again, and before he left, he asked Leis one vital question, “Do the Sending Stones work both ways?”

Leis’ eyes widened in surprise, telling Hal she hadn’t thought he would even ask such a question. “Yes, they do.”

“Then be sure to use it if you need help too,” he said. “I may not have much influence here but having somebody who can watch your back can’t hurt, right? You’ll tell me if something is wrong? If the Watch treats you poorly?”

Leis nodded, a small smile hooking the edges of her lips.

“Good,” Hal replied.

Along with Mira, Elora, and Ashera, he left through the winding passages of the alleys and back to the main street.

Windstrom Refugees Reputation: +10,000 (Town Hero).

The Windstrom Refugees see you as a folk hero and will sing your praises whenever given the opportunity. When mingling with other populations they will increase your reputation by 100 points a day as they tell the tales of your heroism.

If anyone so much as casts aspersions at your honor, they will be among the first in your defense. They will follow you to the seventh hell if you were to ask them.

Your Leadership has risen to Level 8.

Your Leadership has risen to Level 9.

+1% Party Damage (9%).

+2% Leadership Efficacy (18%).

Hal strode with purpose up to the Blade Ring where he stopped a block away from the Adventurer’s Guild and looked at the three.

“What?” Mira asked. “You want me to go find us a fifth?”

Shaking his head, he said, “No, I need to talk to one of the Guild agents inside about the contract particulars. But the way Giel talked, he made it seem like he needed to help us.

“While I’m talking to the Guild, could one of you go check on Giel? At the very least we should let him know we’re going to try the contract.”

“I will go,” Ashera said. “He seemed to take a liking to me and that may sway him to help us. If not…” She looked at the Adventurer’s Guild. “There certainly seemed many who were interested in joining.”

Elora came up to Hal’s side. “We’ll meet you outside,” she said to Ashera.

Together, the three of them walked back into the inviting chaos of the Adventurer’s Guild.

Hal found an attended counter easily enough. The young man looked at him, then at the badge Hal had pinned on his breast. He smiled pleasantly. “Hello, Initiate. How might I be of service?”

“I have a few questions about this contract,” Hal said, taking the rolled-up contract and laying it on the glass counter.

The man’s light hazel eyes widened. “Oh, so you’re that Initiate. Well, I do say, there is a considerable betting pot on your adventure.” He leaned in and winked. “I placed a few dozen sparks on you, don’t let me down, eh?”

Mira raised her brows at that. “And how much did you place against him?”

Clearing his throat and adjusting his thin black tie, the agent didn’t respond.

Chuckling, Mira patted Hal on the back. “I’m sure you have everything in hand here. I’m going to go place a few bets! Don’t die without me!” She disappeared into the press of adventurers shortly after.

Turning his attention back to Hal, the agent asked, “How might I help you?”

“This reward says the ownership of the district will be in our names, right?” Hal asked, pointing at the specific line.

“Not quite, the ownership will transfer to the one who initially took the contract. That is you, is it not?”

“Wait, so my party members do not get ownership?”

“Not unless you choose to give it to them.”

Hal looked at Elora questioningly, she merely shrugged her narrow shoulders. “We’re trusting you with a lot more than a district,” she reminded him. “I do not care who owns it, so long as our mission remains the same.”

“It does,” Hal agreed, and that seemed good enough for Elora.

Turning back to the agent he said, “My question is about… privacy.”

A well-manicured raised hand stopped Hal from explaining further. “The Adventurer’s Guild will gladly anonymize your name from both the records of contract completion and for any rewards if you so choose. It is not so uncommon an ask,” he said at the questioning looks. “Many well-to-do adventurers would never have a moment of rest if they were known to have completed certain bounties or contracts.”

“And we would do that upon completion?” Hal asked.

“Precisely,” said the agent. “Is that all?”

Hal nodded and left. He stood outside for a little while before Ashera joined them.

She shook her head. “The Gone Goose was closed with a handwritten sign that said, ‘Gone Adventuring, be back soon!’ Have either of you seen Giel?”

“No,” Elora and Hal answered in chorus.

“Should we grab a fifth then from inside?” Ashera asked.

“Not yet,” Hal said. “We don’t know if we’ll even be able to get in. Until then, let’s just keep it to us four. If we can find a way in, we’ll come back for a fifth.”

“Does this mean….” Mira gasped aloud, coming out of the Adventurer’s Guild. She jumped up and down like an excited child. “Are we finally going to the Coffin District, now? Are we gonna try and solve the riddle only to painfully die like so many before us?”

“You seem way too chipper for somebody that’s less than thirty minutes from dying,” Hal pointed out.

Mira scoffed. “It’ll take at least an hour-and-a-half to get to the Coffin District. Follow me, I’ll show you where it is. That way you don’t have to go bumbling about asking questions.”

While they walked up the various curving streets and through consecutive paler gates, Mira kept up a constant stream of dialogue.

“Where did you guys come from anyway? We don’t get many new recruits this time of the year. Bandersnatch season is nearly upon us and a lot of the lower ranks don’t live to see the new year. It’s enough to put most potential recruits off until they’re less likely to die out on a simple bounty, y’know?

“By-the-by, not that I’m prying but, are you two with him because you’re Power Leveling him?” She pointed at Hal. “I know some people look down on the practice but I’m not one to judge. Is that what’s going on here?”

Elora and Ashera shared a glance.

“No,” Elora said apprehensively. “We are friends and while Hal is a bit weaker than us, we want to make sure he stays safe.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t even have a Class.” She turned to Hal, gently laying her free hand on his shoulder. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive or judgmental. But we should all be throwing our sparks at him.

“I doubt his skills are all that high if he’s still a Novice. I want you to use ‘em so you can at least cut something with that sweet hip-candy you got there.” Mira pointed at the [Goblinbane].

“I appreciate it but you don’t have to.”

“Nonsense,” Mira said, squeezing past a trundling cart laden with silks and tapestries. They just passed through a silver gate from the Verdant Ring below and into the Cloud Ring. “If we’re really going to stand a chance of doing this, you’ll need to be able to fend for yourself. While it would be nicer if you had a Class, having decent skills is the next best thing.”

“She has a point,” Ashera said to Elora. “We could do a lot of good to get Hal caught up and standing on his own two feet.”

For a moment, Hal was certain Elora was going to object. A dark corner of his mind thought he saw worry and fear flit across her face. Perhaps his suspicions were right.

Maybe Elora did want a puppet for a Founder and the thought of Hal being powerful and independent didn’t sit right with her. After all, it would be hard to cow him if he could fight back properly.

“I don’t know,” Elora said, and Hal braced for the sharp words to come. “If you saw what I did back at the goblin cave, you wouldn’t think Hal was still a Novice. He handled himself well. His magic is something I have never seen before. It’s strong.

“That being said, I think it’s a good idea. We didn’t have Guild badges before so we couldn’t use sparks like that. Now that we can, if we funnel everything we get to Hal, he can be an even bigger help.”

The higher they went in Murkmire, the cleaner and narrower the streets became. Houses grew taller and more opulent, with rich decorative touches on every building that they saw. People moved with a more languid pace rather than the rushed and busy gait of the lower levels.

Mira slowed her long-legged stride and took a right from the gate, heading around to the eastern side of Murkmire.

The Cloud Ring wasn’t quite tall enough to earn its name but it was fairly misty and drizzly up there. Something Hal noticed the sere grass of the Verdant Ring below was in desperate need of.

In fact, as Mira led them deeper into the Cloud Ring, cutting through towering white-stone buildings five or more stories tall, Hal noticed something. Without all the bustle and constant distraction of the busy people below, the true state of Murkmire was on prominent display.

Even in the wealthier rings, the town was showing signs of age. So long as it wasn’t on the main thoroughfare. Any buildings on the main streets were well-kept but it was a façade.

A single peek to the side streets that went deeper showed the truth.

“In here,” Mira said, pulling them through yet another clean alleyway between two buildings with crumbling foundations.

Up ahead, Hal noticed two members of the Watch flanking a single stone archway set into a white-stone wall flecked with quartz that shimmered in the wan daylight.

“Keep away,” one of the Watch mumbled as they came close. “By order of the Founder all who enter risk death. No member of the Murkmire Council will recognize claims against death and dismemberment if this warning is ignored.”

The other Watch shrugged his plated shoulders. “Sorry about that.” He tilted his head to the man who had just finished reciting the warning and then – inexplicably – went back to sleeping while standing upright. “Gotta warn anybody who comes along. Them’s the rules.”

There was a moment of pause between them.

“So,” the man said, “You going inside too?”

“Too?” Hal asked. “Is there somebody inside there right now?”

“Yep, big fella got here just a few minutes afore yourselves.”

With a curious look on Mira’s face, the copper-haired elf walked into the tight corridor.

Hal hurried to catch up, somehow expecting a trap to spring and kill them instantly. Spikes, darts, flames, or a giant slab that would flatten them into paste.

One foot in front of the other, he reminded himself.

The white-stone hall curved to the left and opened up onto a small room with three similar arches that led into their own halls. Each lit with lights embedded into the stonework.

Hal turned the bend that deposited them into a small circular room and nearly stumbled when he saw the hulking form before him.

Curly flame-haired locks, a pair of bronzed bull horns sticking out from the temples, and those ridiculous mutton chops meant it could only be one person.

Giel turned to them as they entered the room. “Took ya’ll long enough!”

31

Seeing the large man standing before him, armored plates strapped to his rippling muscles and a massive sword on his back, Hal couldn’t mistake his intent.

Mira came up to him, and as tall as she was she hardly made it to his chest. “You must be Giel! I’m Mira.” She stuck out her hand.

“Ah hullo….” The tavernkeeper rubbed the back of his curly head sheepishly with one hand and enveloped Mira’s smaller hand with his other in a friendly handshake. “I realize I ain’t exactly told ya I was definitively coming. I ain’t… interrupting am I?” He cast a meaningful look at Mira.

Hal shook his head and smiled encouragingly at the big guy. “We actually went looking for you. I thought you wanted to come but didn’t want to presume. When Ashera went to go find you, she saw you were already gone.”

The sound of Giel laughing was like a small landslide. “Yeah… probably shoulda said somethin’. Ya’ll as quick as a greased fart outta the Gone Goose, that I started to wonder if’n ya wanted to be left alone. Had figured maybe we’d talk over some breakfast.”

“Nothing like that,” Hal said, wincing with guilt. “The past few days have been stressful. I’m sorry for leaving without so much as a goodbye, but we never meant to just leave for good. I wanted to check out the contract and… well one thing lead to another.”

Giel’s red curls bounced as he nodded his shaggy head. “I heard about that, figured I’d come see if ya’ll still had a spot left in your party….” He eyed them sidelong. “Got room for one more?”

Elora promptly added Giel to the party. Nobody was surprised when his HP bar dwarfed everybody else’s.

They struck off down the left-most tunnel, following Hal’s muttered mantra of “always go left,” that he adopted for just about every game he ever played. It seemed to work out okay most of the time.

“Holy-wow. You were planning on coming in here like that?” Giel asked Hal. “You got a mighty big pair on you, don’t ya Hal? Ya’ll are mighty inspiring, I’ll give ya that!”

Hal furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I ain’t meaning no offense, but yer about as fierce as a basket-full-of-kittens! It’s mighty impressive that ya’ll are willing to go in to the unknown in such a state.” He slapped Hal on the back, nearly knocking him off his feet. “It shows one heck of a fightin’ spirit!”

While they continued on, Hal thought about what Giel had said. He wondered just how weak he was compared to the countless adventurers that had perished trying to fulfill this very same task.

The halls twisted and wound around with no discernible pattern to them. Hal could only guess why there wasn’t a single, defensible way into the district. He was starting to think that they had taken the wrong path when a final blind bend led them into a wide chamber filled with dust and debris. The far wall held another archway but this one was filled with glowing blue light.

“Would you look at that!” Giel cried out and tromped through the dust, raising black clouds of the stuff as he put himself face-to-face with etched glowing letters on the wall. “What do you reckon that is? Some ancient language or warning?”

Hal’s stomach sank when he saw it. He knew what it said. It was his language after all, not theirs. The words carved into the wall and suffused with their own blue glow were in English.

They read, “#37. Failure. Lost cause.”

For a long while, they all stared at the lettering. All but Hal trying to make out what it said. Even though he could read it, Hal didn’t have the faintest idea what it meant.

“I’ve heard Scholars from all over sometimes come here and study the writing of the Founder, they say it’s an ancient and powerful rune-based magic that keeps this place safe from outside threats,” Mira said, tracing her fingers into one of the deep grooves of the letter R.

“It’s English,” Hal said without even realizing it or taking his eyes from the writing. “It says, ‘#37. Failure. Lost cause.’”

Every head in the room whipped around to stare at him and only then did Hal realize how strange it would be to all of them that he could read the Founder’s language.

“Hal….” Elora said with an edge of warning to her voice.

Giel looked worryingly toward Mira. “How much does she know?”

“Not enough,” Ashera answered.

Hal turned to the barrier, something about it tugged at his mind. The voices of his friends faded away and all he could see was the magic before him.

It was familiar. Like a sense of déjà vu, Hal was almost certain he knew how it was cast. Even though that was utterly impossible. He stood less than a foot from it, studying it intently.

The only thing that existed in the world was this blue barrier, preventing him entry. It was all that was between them and the contract they needed to finish.

Shimmering gold sigils, patterns so imperceptibly small that he nearly missed them at first, began to glow brightly. He recognized them from the book Giel had given him.

Hal took out the [Unknown Codex] and the book opened onto a page of its own accord. The sigils within shimmered in a line, an esoteric phrase of power that sent a tingle through Hal’s fingers like an electric current.

The sigils were next to those drained of magic. They looked exactly like the ones he could see within the magic of the barrier. At that moment, Hal came to have a deeper understanding of the codex.

Your Investigation has risen to Level 4.

+1% Investigation speed (+4%).

+2% Investigation success (+8%).

It was a spellbook. Each phrase, a spell. And each spell had a counterpart. Positive and negative.

What stood before him was a barrier, a positive-oriented spell. It created. The neighboring row of sigils that lifted off the page constituted this spell’s counterpart. A negative-oriented spell that removed.

His forearm burned and his fingers twitched with nervous energy. He breathed in and the sigils fluttered off the page like motes of dust. Another breath and the sigils were pulled into Hal.

You have learned Founder Sigil: Rend.

By focusing on the weave that makes all things, you can now channel the Sigil of Unmaking and rip the weave at its most basic level.

Without conscious thought, he stepped forward again and raised his left hand in a claw gesture.

His fingers worked through a foreign dance, making patterns streak through the air that blurred his vision. He began to feel faint. He kept going.

The sensation came on in full force. A tingling, excitation that made Hal certain he was on the right track. Just inches from the glowing barrier, itching with the desire to tear it down, Giel looped his massive arms around Hal’s middle and tried to haul him back.

He was dimly aware of the thought flitting through his head saying, “No.” And then it was gone and so was Giel. Hal hooked his thumb and first two fingers, twisted his wrist, and ripped.

Brilliant coruscating sparks of molten light bled from the wound he tore into the barrier. The blue light of the barrier began to ebb. It took only two heartbeats for the barrier to wink out.

Even with the long sleeve and the bracer, Hal’s mark shone through as if the solid material wasn’t even there.

“That boy’s got a kick!” Giel hooted.

His voice brought Hal back to the present. He looked over his shoulder for the source and found Giel, who must have easily weighed several hundred pounds, flat on his rump in a cloud of ash looking at Hal in shock.

And he wasn’t alone.

Only Ashera looked at Hal with pity and sympathy. As if she felt the turmoil within him. The worry that now filled him to the brim.

“You’re a Founder!” Mira squealed, pointing at the rapidly fading mark.

Good to know that it flares when I use it.

Hal staggered, suddenly on very unsure footing. Black spots flitted around his vision. The sudden outburst from Mira seemed like it was coming from the other side of a very long hall.

He wasn’t even aware of the fall that folded him into the comforting oblivion of blackness.

* * *

“I don’t care what your scrying says, I felt it, Hirash!” Founder Rinbast shouting into the [Tuple Mirror] filled with the Archmage’s doubting face. “Find him. He wasn’t supposed to live past his first day. He’s out there. To the west. I can feel him but it’s fading.”

On the other side of the mirror, at least two days away, the Archmage Hirash bowed low and said, “As you wish, my lord.”

Rinbast had been on edge ever since he learned that they had the new Founder in his very dungeons and they let him escape. Everything had gone wrong so fast.

He was still at the training grounds far to the south awaiting Hal’s arrival when his home was attacked and the escape happened.

By the time he returned, the boy was gone. All traces of his whereabouts were scrubbed clean. The “Hope Rebels” as they liked to call themselves had an uncanny amount of Rangers among their number.

The tiresome lot was fast wearing at Rinbast’s patience for their silly antics. “We cannot allow him to tap any further into his Founder powers,” Rinbast said, more to himself than Hirash. “Not without proper ‘guidance’. Bring him to me, Hirash.”

“Forgive me for saying so, Founder, but ‘west’ is an awfully vague direction. Might you have a more….” The lean man with the hawkish nose and thin goatee licked his lips as he thought over his next words carefully. “Exact awareness of his location?”

“No,” Rinbast snapped, rubbing at his graying temples. “Already his presence is fading. I only felt the briefest spark, but it’s already gone. Go west, take the Kinslayers. I will not tolerate another failure.”

“I will see it done,” Hirash said, and the [Tuple Mirror] went blank once more.

Working his jaw, Rinbast tried to get a reign on his spiraling anger. The boy would err again. And when he did, Rinbast would have the scrying pool ready.

He might yet turn this blunder into a success.

Yes, Rinbast thought as he sank into his opulent seat in his private sanctuary far from prying eyes, I need only be patient. A wicked smile found itself onto his handsome features. A smile not at all like the kindly visage he had plastered all over his castle in Fallwreath.

* * *

When he started to come to, he heard the group talking. He kept his eyes shut and stayed as limp as possible.

Your Stealth has risen to Level 5.

+1% Stealth success (+2%).

+1% Stealth speed (+2%).

-1% SP drain (-2%).

“…can’t be serious!” Mira said. “We all saw it. Look at that mark on his arm, it’s just like theirs. He’ll be just like them.”

“But what if he is not?” asked Ashera in her quiet voice.

“That’s like raising a two-headed bearcuda and saying, ‘maybe this one isn’t going to bite my hand off and murder the whole block!’ Since that’s exactly what they always do,” Mira snapped.

Hal had never heard such venom and anger from the elf. Granted, he hadn’t known her very long but her bubbly personality was nowhere to be seen now.

“He will not be like the other Founders,” Elora said. “He may be a bit naïve but….” She sighed. “We might as well lay everything out in the open. We were supposed to take Hal away from the Founder of Fallwreath. But do you know what kept happening?”

“Ya’ll nearly died to multiple ambushes by vicious beasts because you traveled outside the Sanctums and Sanctuaries?” Giel guessed.

“No,” Elora said. “Hal kept getting himself in trouble because instead of running away and saving his own life and only thinking of himself, he was saving other people.

“He broke out of the Founder’s prison and freed the prisoners without ever stopping to think of how dangerous that was. When he was captured by goblins, he had the perfect opportunity to leave undetected and turned it down. To save children and beastmen.

“Those refugees you saw? Those were their kids he saved. Over two hundred souls he rescued from slavery and death. Name one Founder that ever did something like that.”

“He freed me from the Founder’s slaving collar,” Ashera said. Hal heard the rustle of fabric and several gasps a moment later. “You can still see the bruising. The very first time I met Hal, when I thought he was just another poor, unfortunate soul to be executed, he saved me. He nearly died in the process but he never seemed to think much of it.

“Even to this day, he doesn’t realize what he gave me. What it meant or how rare such a sacrifice is. Even among our own people, we rarely are so willing to give up our lives if it means we will secure a better tomorrow. He is different.”

Hal had never heard Ashera’s voice so strained with emotion. So sure and confident.

“I don’t have much of a say in the matter,” Giel rumbled. “But I won’t have you harmin’ him, Miss Mira. Somethin’ ain’t right about this place we’re headin’ into but Founder or no Founder, Hal’s trying to set things right.

“Now, I can’t rightly say if’n he’ll turn out good or bad. Too early in his tale to tell, I reckon. But your own two pretty little eyes ought to show you the practical side of things. He opened that door. Ain’t never been done before, now has it? What other tricks might he have?

“He threw me clear across the room. Without even looking my way, mind. Don’t we at least owe it to him to see what he does before we convict him of a crime he ain’t commit?”

Mira grumbled. “Listen, I’m not saying we kill him or anything! It’s just… I mean you know what it’s like out there. Murkmire is rare. Most places are either totally abandoned, people dying in the streets, or they’re under an iron rule. People are spirited away at night, never seen again for saying the slightest objection against the Founder.”

“Nobody is asking you to follow him blindly,” Elora said. “We’re asking that you give him a chance. Treat him like anybody else. He’s here hoping to find a home for the koblins. That’s why he’s doing this in the first place. If I had my way he’d be bound in a chest that’s impervious to all harm until he’s safe.”

“Wait,” Mira said. “He’s mortal? Does he know he doesn’t have to be?”

Elora’s familiar groan of frustration made it hard to keep a straight face. “Yes, unfortunately. He’s well aware that every minute he stays here or anywhere else, he risks a final death just like the rest of us. I’ve tried that argument on him. He doesn’t care. I don’t know if he’s an idiot or too kind for his own good.”

“Bit of both, probably,” Mira offered. She dropped her voice to barely a whisper. “Okay, so why are you letting him run around and get stronger? If I had a Founder in my confidences, I’d want to have him completely under my control. Do you know how many people would flock to a lame Founder that could be controlled?”

Hal held his breath, waiting for Elora’s answer.

“A great many,” Elora hedged. “But eventually it’ll come down to fighting another Founder. All paths converge to that point. What use is it to make him weak when that means he will inevitably fall to another Founder?”

“And,” Ashera interjected, “It is amoral and wrong to rob him of his agency. Just as it is wrong of the Founders to rob us of ours.”

“He is different,” Elora intoned. Hal was surprised by the conviction in her voice. “I have seen it firsthand. Don’t turn him in. Please.”

Hal opened his eyes to see Elora’s sincerity firsthand, her blue-gray eyes shining with unshed tears. He was touched.

“I do believe he’s coming around,” Giel said, towering over Hal.

32

“C’mon, up you get friend!” Giel hoisted Hal up into a sitting position. In the same smooth motion, Giel pressed the [Unknown Codex] into Hal’s hands. His voice dropped to a rasping whisper, “Try to keep a better hold of this, eh?”

A deep pervasive weakness still lingered in his muscles. Everything felt loose and rubbery. The weirdest sensation was the taste. His whole mouth tasted like blue raspberries.

That’s oddly specific. I wonder if I’m having a stroke.

“Hal?” Elora asked, coming to crouch by his side. She looked over her shoulder. “Ashera, is he okay?”

Ashera crouched down beside him, reaching a hand out. She pressed her fingertips to Hal’s temple. A shiver ran through him, pebbling his skin. “As far as I can tell, he is fine. Perhaps a bit shaken up but otherwise healthy.”

“I’m okay,” Hal managed to say. With Giel’s help, he got his feet under him and stood, though he hardly seemed steady. Giel kept a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Do you know what happened to you, what you did?” Ashera asked. Elora and Mira investigated the archway, tentatively peeking into the darkness beyond.

“I-” Hal looked up at Giel, over to Mira, then finally to Ashera. “I found a way to break down the Founder’s barrier. Though I don’t think I could explain how. We should be able to go in now.” He looked over at the dark portal into the long-dead district.

“I wonder what we’ll find,” Mira said. When she looked back at Hal and their eyes met, she flinched momentarily. She shook herself, however, and forced her gaze to meet his eyes. “If you’re feeling up to going, we should get a move on.”

He was surprised she hadn’t run off. Hal took stock of how he was feeling, deemed himself ready, and struck off toward the Coffin District’s narrow archway.

Mira and Elora stepped aside, letting him enter first. As soon as he pressed into the darkness they were at his back.

Hal could feel all four of them in the back of his mind like tiny motes of awareness. He took a quick peek at the party menu, noticing each of their levels, something he’d forgotten to take note of earlier.

Ashera had once told him, when they first met, that she was a Keeper. Her Class was specifically called a Sin Keeper, Level 11. Which sounded a lot darker than something the sweet, soft-spoken girl with sad eyes would be expected to have.

All of them were quite a bit higher than him, considering they all had proper Classes and were over Level 10. Giel was a Level 12 Warrior, Mira a Level 13 Dragoon, and of course Elora was now a Level 13 Ranger.

That left Hal as the undisputed dead weight considering that they would all have Level 10 Novice as well, putting each of them a minimum of 10 Levels above his own.

Aside from Elora and himself, each of the others had an extra resource bar.

Giel’s bar looked the strangest to Hal. The left half was filled with fiery-orange flames. The right was filled with shimmering red motes. The two colors met at the center, mingling into an indistinct line.

Instead of a fluid resource like Giel’s, Mira had a series of scales and a small number beside the gauge. It currently had two scales and the number 2 to the left of the gauge.

Though, unlike Giel’s, Hal guessed it was some sort of spendable resource for unique attacks. The Warrior’s bar made little sense to Hal by comparison.

Hal was keen on seeing their Classes in action. It was one thing to learn about what the Class did but an entirely different experience altogether to witness it.

The gauge Ashera had was a collection of diamonds with glowing red centers, they staggered from left to right, with only three currently lit up.

As much as Hal wanted to pester his party about their Classes, he decided it would be better to observe them in action. Hal pressed on into the darkness.

The first thing he noticed was how stale and dusty the air was. The chamber opened up into a wide boulevard. Hal’s Darkvision could barely keep him from tripping over the stonework flooring covered with chipped rocks and various debris. Some of which came up to his ankle.

Probably leftover construction from building that roof. I doubt anybody would want to risk trying to retrieve it. If they even could. Would be really nice to have some light though. My Darkvision sucks.

At the thought, the Adventurer’s Guild badge fastened to his quilted coat sparked and emitted a wide beam of soft pale light, not too dissimilar from an LED lantern back home.

“Okay,” Hal said. “That’s pretty useful.” He turned to look at the rest of his Party. “Hey did you-” There was a chorus of groans and cries as Hal’s light spoiled their Darkvision, a few of them raised their arms defensively to shield their eyes. “Oh,” he said, realizing that each of them likely had far higher Darkvision and were probably fine without any light whatsoever. He turned back around. “My bad.”

Mira sidled up alongside Hal rubbing at her eyes. “Mind giving a gal some warning next time?”

“Sorry,” Hal rubbed the back of his neck. “This is my first time and to be honest, I had no idea the badge did that.”

“Oh, silly me,” Mira said, “I keep forgetting you’re all new to the Guild. Okay so, real quick before we get mauled by something in the shadows: The badge does a lot of things.

“It functions as a light source that you can dial back and control based on your thoughts so you’re not blinding everybody around you. It lets you into the Guild after hours in any of its locations. And it will identify your body if you’re horribly, gruesomely maimed!”

“Lovely,” Hal said, trying to peer into every shadow and crevice in the dark place at once.

They walked for a short while, finding nothing of note beyond tomb-like buildings that vanished into a murky gloom above them. Everything about the place felt oppressive and wrong. But nothing about it felt dead like Hal expected.

They were being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck had perked up and hadn’t relaxed since he first set foot inside.

“Everything is so… still.” Mira wondered aloud.

That’s an understatement.

Despite his reservations they seemed to be the only living things around. A thought that he knew should have given him some measure of comfort.

Every alley seemed to hide a monster lying in wait. Some horrible creature that had slumbered for years waiting for just this moment. But considering how dead everything was, his mind went to the worst place he could think of.

Zombies.

An involuntary shudder dripped down his spine.

He couldn’t stand zombies.

They were practically a phobia back in Seattle where he was pretty sure they weren’t real. But on Aldim? They probably had undead issues all the time.

He could only hope that he’d never run into one.

The debris continued to litter the old roadway. Something felt off about it to Hal but he couldn’t put his finger on it. While the others fanned out to cover more ground, Hal crouched to a small pile of rubble.

It looks… stacked.

They were broken bits of stone but had been piled up in a rough pyramid shape. Hal could only guess at the purpose.

“Body,” called Mira. She had her spear out, facing the slumped form. Hal stood and joined the others surrounding the corpse. It was nearly unrecognizable.

“It’s practically charcoal,” Elora said. “But look.” Hal followed her gaze to the surrounding stonework building the body was laid up against. It looked like it had been standing at the mouth of a narrow alley, only to get tired and sit down to take a nap.

“I don’t get it, there’s nothing,” Hal said.

Your Investigation has risen to Level 5.

+1% Investigation speed (+5%).

+2% Investigation success (+10%).

+5% Point of interest highlight chance (+5%).

“Exactly. There are no scorch marks. No burning… there’s no sign of a struggle.”

Looking around, Hal wondered how that could be possible. The person – he wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman – was black and cracked with only the vague mannequin-like shape of a human.

“There should be black marks all over from the raging inferno that did this,” said Elora.

“Got another one,” boomed Giel’s deep voice farther down an adjacent alleyway.

As they walked along the wide boulevard, they found bodies with increasing frequency. Each of them burned beyond recognition without any sign of the blaze that had killed them.

“Most of them are away from the main street,” Hal realized. “And look at these.” He stooped down near the latest body. It was disturbing how quickly he got used to their silent presence.

Hal picked up one of the rough bits of debris stacked into a pile, a little quicker than he would have normally. Just in case the body decided to make his worst dreams a reality by reaching out to stop him from pilfering its precious stones.

“I saw a few of those,” Elora pointed out. “Figured it was from the masons building the roof.”

“That’s what I thought too at first.” Hal turned the stone about in his hand, examining it, noticing it wasn’t quite as rough as he had thought. “But it’s too uniform. It’s almost like they were made.”

Mira prodded the corpse and Hal jumped back, dropping the stone with a clatter and a brilliant flash of light that produced a sound like the ringing of some massive iron bell. The tolling reverberated and seemed to redouble with the distance, spreading the sound into the dark beyond.

Oh, flork me. I’m Pippin!

As their vision returned from the blinding flash, the body was no more than a pile of ash and charcoal. Nobody was hurt. All it took was a simple glance at their HP, and those of their fellows, to determine that everything was fine.

What are they used for then? Some sort of stunning pellet? A medieval flashbang?

Whatever it was had been decidedly non-lethal. An ethos their opposition seemed staunchly opposed to judging by the state of the bodies.

Mira looked over at Hal. “My bad. Figured it might have some loot. You sure are jumpy, though.” She shrugged half-heartedly.

The distant ringing finally faded, making the silence that followed much more pronounced. Hal’s heart thudded in his chest, awaiting drums in the deep or something equally horrible resounding from the dark. But nothing more came. After an interminable period, Hal allowed himself to breathe.

They had barely passed two blocks, and already they’d seen more bodies than they should have by Hal’s reckoning. It was a gradual increase at first, mostly sticking to the alleys and places of shelter. But as they pressed on, the boulevard became choked with blackened corpses.

“It’s almost as if they were all fleeing from something,” Hal said.

Four pairs of curious eyes turned his way.

“Look.” Hal turned around and pointed down the curving street they’d come across. “Up until this point they stuck to alleys and places with cover. They had those strange pebbles. They were holding something back but whatever it was tore through them. These people, look at their bodies.”

The corpses were sprawled out, most of them looked like they’d been running when whatever they were fighting killed them. At the same time. And then it hit Hal like a thunderbolt. But he had to be sure.

Hal found the tallest nearby building and made a beeline for its door. It opened without any resistance. Another confirmation for his theory. Inside there were more bodies, most of them in or around the doorframes like they had been caught by surprise.

“Hal! Where are you going?” Elora called after him, following him as he sped up the stairs and eventually up the five flights of stairs to the roof. More bodies cluttered the edges of the roofline.

Five stories up, so wrapped up in this mystery that he forgot to be afraid, Hal leaned out over the edge. He got a bird’s eye view of what must have been a frightful scene once upon a time. “Come here,” he said over his shoulder. Elora stood beside him, though she leaned out much farther more than he did.

“By the Gods,” she whispered.

Up here, they could see the complete picture. And Hal remembered suddenly why it had that hint of frightful familiarity. It looked like a protest that had been suddenly and violently quelled. He’d seen enough pictures and videos of those in recent years.

Your Investigation has risen to Level 6.

+1% Investigation speed (+6%).

+2% Investigation success (+12%).

Your Perception has risen to Level 8.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+16%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+40%).

A few brave – or foolish - souls stayed behind, hidden by storefronts or alleyways, to slow whatever force had come for them. As things turned violent, they were killed where they stood, probably trying to buy time for the others.

Judging by the size of the magical stones they had stockpiled, Hal didn’t think they had the chance to use them before they were killed. Many of them were clearly surprised by their own end, suggesting that there might be something more to the story.

Something Hal was missing.

From his vantage point, it was clear there had been no survivors. To his right, as the street curved away from him, the street turned black with charred bodies. He was struck by a realization as his mind caught up to his instincts.

He shouldn’t have been able to see that far out.

It had been pitch black inside. Even with the Guild’s badge, Hal could only see about fifty feet around him. Up on the roof, he could see much farther than that. Looking up, Hal noticed grooved lines carved within the ceiling that emitted a steady blue-white light.

Curling, elegant lines were carved into the ceiling. The glow from the light cast the entire district into twilight.

Except for one area.

Most of the district’s rooftops and buildings were clearly visible. As well as a square some distance ahead on the path they had been treading. And just beyond that, pressed back against a curving floor-to-ceiling wall that made up the barrier to the next ring, was the lightless region.

It was the sole patch of darkness in the magical twilight emanating from the ceiling.

Up so high, even with many tall buildings blocking his sight, Hal could see a way through the charnel house that was the Coffin District. They’d have to find their way through a few buildings and down some tight alleyways but Hal was certain he could lead them toward that darkness.

It was as good a goal as any. And as likely as any other location in the dead district to provide some answers.

33

“Hal.” Elora unslung her bow and nocked an arrow in one smooth motion.

Pulled from his thoughts, Hal followed the tip of her arrow to where she had it aimed. They weren’t alone. Worse, he could just make out the faint murk that covered the streets below.

Including their fellow party members.

What is that?

Like Elora, he was able to see the threat that his friends down below could not. It only hit him then that the darkness below must have been some method of crowd control that had never been deactivated.

While they were above the barely perceptible dark layer of murk, Hal could see down alleys and into windows that he remembered being black as night below.

Dozens of shadowy creatures were crawling out from the alleyways, adjacent streets, and pouring out of the dark windows of empty broken buildings. They were surrounding Hal’s party below with the steady, sure coordination common in pack predators.

The Coffin District was anything but dead. A realization that made his blood run cold. Shadows across the entire district were coming alive, drawn to the living down below.

Elora let loose, the arrow flew true until it reached the layer of murk. The arrow shifted off course and missed the creature. “Ugh.” Elora nocked and drew back again.

“Hey!” Hal yelled down below. “Watch out, you’re being surrounded!”

None of them seemed to notice the shouting.

<“Giel, there’s something coming from the alley on your left!”>

Still nothing. Was the murk blocking their communications as well as their voices? Was that even possible?

“We have to get down there and warn them,” Hal said, taking off toward the rooftop doorway.

A shadowy creature crawled up the side of the building, launching itself at Hal before he was halfway across the roof. He tumbled to the side with a jolt of pain in his hip. Rather than fight it, he rolled with the motion as Angram had shown him and managed to throw the creature off.

“Elora!” Hal was up on his feet, drawing the [Goblinbane] in a halting, awkward motion that took him two full tugs to clear it from the scabbard.

I hate my low-level skill!

An arrow streaked by Hal. It sunk into the creature just as it leaped for Hal again. The shadowy thing recoiled as the arrow sunk into its gelatinous umbral skin.

In the light of the ceiling, Hal could see the thing clearly. It was a gut-wrenching cross between a beast and a human. Its form was made of twisting shadow, its bones stood out as black against the dark gray translucent skin.

Instead of paws, it had large six-fingered hands with too many finger joints. Where its face should have been was a black slab of intricately carved stone fastened to its head with several chains made of wispy shadow.

“What is that?” Hal cried, watching the creature advance on him again.

“How should I know?” Elora snapped at him, loosing another arrow into the thing as Hal rushed forward, raising the [Goblinbane] high. The etching along the flat of the blade shone like gold fire.

Noticing an unnatural shadow pooling at his feet, Hal skipped to the side, twisted on the balls of his feet, and sliced down at the oncoming shadow creature.

Hal narrowly avoided the grasping, many-fingered hand of another monster crawling out from the stone flooring.

He was about to tell Elora that they could move through the floor when he noticed she was surrounded by the creatures. They crawled out from shadowy pools on the stone, reaching and grasping with their long limbs and ramming with their stone faces.

Hal backpedaled quickly, trying to put distance between him and the two creatures that were facing him down. They needed to regroup. If there was any chance of beating the multiplying creatures, it would be together.

He never would have gone off on his own if the last hour of exploration hadn’t been so quiet.

With a slash of his sword, Hal fended off the two creatures in front of him. Using his blade about defensively, he edged toward Elora.

The Ranger had replaced her bow with two long curving knives that gleamed bright and silver. She worked them in a constant weaving motion that kept most of the shadowy things from landing any solid blows.

But she couldn’t keep it up forever.

Ignoring the two in front of him, Hal turned and rushed for the lone creature that had slipped behind Elora.

A heavy kick connected with its ribs. The creature was pushed several feet. It scrabbled uselessly at the flat, smooth rooftop, and toppled over the edge.

“You’re an idiot,” Elora said, casting a quick look over her shoulder as Hal slipped in, placing his back to hers. “You should have gone to the others.”

Looking over his shoulder at her profile, he smirked and said, “And let you have all the fun?” The two creatures chasing Hal immediately filled in the gap, leaving the two to face off against half a dozen of the things.

A grasping hand lunged out toward Elora. She batted it aside with a quick double-slap of her blades. Despite her dour attitude, Elora returned the smile. “I hope you have something up your sleeve for getting us out of this,” she said.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to catch you in the magic. Do you think you can peel them off so I can gather them up?” Hal asked, foiling a swipe from both creatures by bracing the flat of his blade with one hand and blocking the hits. Even still, his feet slid across the stone. His back pressed harder into Elora’s.

Hal stepped in and kicked out, nailing one of the slab-faced creatures and sending it reeling back.

“I’ve got just the thing,” Elora answered, “Hal. Stay still.”

Hal set his feet and held his ground as Elora twisted about. She hooked one arm into Hal’s and used him like a pole to swing about. Elora sent a heavy kick into six stone faces. The creatures recoiled from the assault, clearing a full two feet around the pair.

That might just be enough of an opening.

“Throw me!” she cried. With the extra 4 STR from his gear, Hal was nearly twice as strong as his baseline 5 STR would suggest.

Hal obliged as he grabbed her arm and continued the spinning motion the Ranger had started. He let her fly, throwing her clear of the reeling group of Shadow Crawlers.

Elora landed light as a feather beyond their ranks. Her eyes flashed to Hal, her face twisted with concern. Shaking her head, Elora gave a savage grin at the backs of the Shadow Crawlers as she remembered her role.

Gleaming daggers raised high, she clashed them together in a ringing display. A ripple of mana spread out over the creatures, turning their attention to her.

Elora uses Taunt.

Falling within himself, Hal conjured an ethereal copy of a goblin’s bomb. Casting Bomb Toss one after the other, Hal lobbed the explosive spells at the gathered mob of Shadow Crawlers.

Despite the double cast of the spell dealing over 110 damage, none of them were slain. Elora clashed her daggers together, performing another Taunt. Drawing their ire back to her.

This time, they were much faster to attack. Rather than allow herself to be surrounded again, Elora ran. Hal took aim and lobbed another Bomb Toss.

You defeat 6 [Shadow Crawlers].

You gain 1,200 Experience Points.

You earn 120 Sparks.

You absorb 60 Shadow Essence.

Your Perception has risen to Level 9.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+18%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+45%).

Your Beast Magic has risen to level 5.

+3% Beast Magic potency (+15%).

-2% MP cost (-2%).

Your Sword Skill has risen to Level 5.

+1% Sword damage (+5%).

-0.25% Sword durability loss (-1.25%).

+5% Armor penetration (+5%).

You learn Rending Steel.

Rending Steel

Assault your enemies with five unrelenting strikes. Weave destruction upon your enemies, finding gaps in their armor and where no gaps exist, creating them.

Additional Effect: Lowers DEF.

Damage: 10.

SP Cost: 25.

Your Parry Skill has risen to Level 2.

+1% Parry success (+2%).

-1% Parry stamina cost (-2%).

That looks interesting, Hal thought after looking over Rending Steel. He had plenty of untapped Stamina to use. It would help round out his damage potential if he could use his sword and SP to mete out damage to preserve what precious MP he had.

Every destroyed Shadow Crawler vanished with a puff of smoke. Elora’s eyes widened as she watched Hal inhale their essence. So much of it at once nearly overwhelmed him.

Hal nearly fell to his knees but Elora was quick to his side. Her hands steadied him and he soon found his balance again. “I’m okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Three casts of Bomb Toss would have been the majority of his MP. It still was. But with the [Spaulder of the Ravenblessed] he received 10 MP per each kill.

It wasn’t enough to offset the cost of Bomb Toss entirely, but it meant that instead of only having 35 MP after that battle, he was at 95. And Hal had the suspicion that he would need every point of mana when they got to the street below.

Side by side, Elora and Hal burst into the stairwell. The agile Ranger jumped up on the railing and rode it down, quickly outpacing Hal.

When they got out onto the street, the darkness closed in on them again, confirming that the murk wasn’t just a trick of the eye. The twilight illumination from the ceiling was gone.

“There you are!” Giel called out, swinging his massive bronzed greatsword. A shadow creature dodged the first swing but was caught on the deceptively quick backswing, breaking apart into ephemeral black mist. Not the purple Hal expected.

Giel defeats the [Shadow Crawler].

You gain 200 Experience Points.

You earn 20 Sparks.

“Look out beloooow!” Mira called out from somewhere up above. The Dragoon dropped atop the thing, impaling it and pinning the thing to the stone street below with her spear.

Hanging onto her spear like it was a pole, Mira winked at Hal and said, “I would have said you’ve been missing all the fun, if we didn’t all just see the prompt about half a dozen Shadow Crawlers biting it.” Mira turned her smirking grin to Elora. “I take it that was you?”

Elora answered that grin with one of her own and shook her head, stealing the mirth from the Dragoon’s face. Mira blinked and looked to Hal as Elora said, “It was all Hal. I told you he was more than meets the eye.”

Ashera took a step forward, tapped Mira’s bleeding arm with the telltale golden glow of Cure. One of the black diamonds next to her panel in the party menu lit up with a red glowing dot.

Without breaking stride, Ashera stepped up to the Shadow Crawler pinned to the street as a black swirling mist gathered around her other hand.

Hal watched as the red dot vanished the moment that swirling mist touched the creature, sending it into wild convulsions. Glowing veins of light inched their way across its umbral body, disintegrating it from within.

Ashera defeats the [Shadow Crawler].

You gain 200 Experience Points.

You earn 20 Sparks.

No essence again, Hal mused.

“We’re going to have more coming soon,” he warned. He could almost feel the creatures lurking in the dark pools of shadow around them. It was something to do with his recently acquired essence.

“Good!” Giel bellowed. “Get behind me, I’ll switch to a defensive stance.” He reversed the grip on his sword and drove it down into the stone as easily as if it were loose dirt. Giel’s hands moved alongside the flat of the blade. A shield of glittering red motes spread out from the weapon like two wings.

Giel uses Tenacity.

Giel gains 30 Resolve.

As he did, the gauge of fiery orange and red motes shifted suddenly to the left. Two-thirds of the bar was now filled with the sparkling red motes of magical energy. The same dancing lights appeared around Giel like a faint aura.

Just in time for half a dozen Shadow Crawlers rushing out from the sides of the building. Elora pulled back her bow and took aim. “I’ll pin the first,” she called and loosed an arrow glowing with green energy.

Elora uses Pinning Shot.

The [Shadow Crawler] is bound.

Mira and Ashera moved up, the latter’s hand gently grazed Hal’s shoulder. Glittering light sparkled at the touch and the familiar rush of Minor Cure healed the minor scrapes he acquired on the roof and revitalized his SP. Ashera gained another red dotted diamond in the process.

The Shadow Crawlers tripped over their bound companion, tumbling forward into the waiting swipe of Giel’s greatsword. A thin trail of red motes formed a brief barrier around Hal and the big man.

Giel uses Deflecting Blow.

Additional Effect: Barrier.

Three of them crashed into the barrier as it flared to life. Mira stepped in with her spear, the tip swirled with scaly azure energy. As she thrust out, the tip vanished. It was replaced by the head of a roaring dragon. It bit and tore through two of the Shadow Crawlers that had been left dazed by Giel’s barrier.

The Void calls, a whispering voice said just as Hal was assaulted by a wave of nausea. He tried to summon the mana to cast Bomb Toss but could hardly keep his feet beneath him.

Mira uses Fang & Roar.

Mira defeats 2 [Shadow Crawlers].

You gain 400 Experience Points.

You earn 40 Sparks.

You obtain:

- 2 [Lumps of Shadowflesh]

Two blue scales shuddered and fell from Mira’s gauge. A couple of the creatures realized the power of the force arrayed against them and, showing a semblance of intelligence, scuttled off to the side to attack from their vulnerable flank.

Ashera spun on her heels in an instant, noticing and responding to the threat while Hal struggled to block out the mounting whispers. She raised her hands high above her head. A swirling orb of blackest night pulsed to life in her upturned palms.

Ribbons of darkness lashed about the party, ripping into the creatures with disturbing efficacy. Each hit made another of Ashera’s diamonds flicker out. As one the party turned to watch the display of power, enraptured by the destruction the kind-hearted Ashera was unleashing.

Unmake us. Return us. The Void awaits, came the whispering voices that continued to assault Hal. Nobody else seemed to hear them.

One of the creatures turned its stone-carved slab for a face to Hal in the moment of its death. The Void awaits you, as well, Failure.

Hal started at the voice, so obviously spoken to him from one of those creatures. Wow. Rude.

Ashera casts Unmending Sin.

Ashera defeats 3 [Shadow Crawlers].

You gain 600 Experience Points.

You earn 60 Sparks.

You obtain:

- 2 [Lumps of Shadow Flesh]

- [Length of Void Chain]

A gleam of light brought Hal’s attention around to Elora’s kneeling form. She had her bow drawn back to her cheek. The arrow tip shone with a radiant light. It streaked through the air and plunged into the restrained Shadow Crawler. The initial hit burrowed deep into its body and burst with blinding light that washed over all of them.

Elora uses Radiant Trickshot.

Elora defeats the [Shadow Crawler].

You gain 200 Experience Points.

You earn 20 Sparks.

You obtain:

- [Strange Mask]

“Okay,” Giel said looking around. “That seems to be the last of... whatever those things were.”

The whispers had died down leaving Hal with a dull, pounding headache. But at least he was able to move. Ashera looked at him with concern, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder.

Unfortunately, he could hear more of them in the distance. And they were growing louder.

“Shadow Crawlers,” Mira put in helpfully.

“I know what they’re called, Mira. I ain’t never seen anything like that before! And so close to where I sleep! They don’t make no gosh dang noise!”

“Unless you count their creepy – and offensive – whispering,” Hal muttered.

The pointed ears of the elf perked up and she turned to him. Hal colored, realizing she’d heard him and hoping she would leave it alone. But even as he had the thought, he knew Mira would not. In the brief time he had gotten to know her, she did not strike him as the sort to leave anything alone.

“What do you mean, ‘whispers’?” she pressed. A quick look up and down the street made her pause. “Inside.” She motioned to the building across the street from the one Hal had gone into.

The door offered no resistance and they entered into the scattered remains of some old shop. Giel barred the door with a large piece of broken shelving and Elora walked the perimeter of the room’s many small aisles.

Mira turned on Hal once they were all inside, the interior lit up by their collective badges. “Explain yourself, Hal.”

“I can hear them… it’s like I hear them whispering,” he said, suddenly feeling very small with so many eyes turned toward him. Hal did his best to stand his ground but it was hard when he could hear the vague discordant whisperings of so many voices. They passed through the back door that was heavily barred with rotted planks of wood and chains. “And I hear them coming.” Hal raised his hand to the back door. “From there.”

34

Giel stepped up to the door. For each passing second, his class gauge shifted back toward equilibrium. Half orange fire, half red glowing motes. “I don’t hear anything,” he said, pressing his head close to the door.

“Put your ear to the door,” Mira called out with a sly grin.

“Har, har,” Giel replied. The large horns that sprouted from the side of his head made it practically impossible but he made a point to gently knock them against the door anyway.

The smile was stolen from Mira’s face when something on the other side knocked back.

Giel froze.

The voices quieted enough that Hal could make out a few words. Seek us. Free us. The Void welcomes all.

Hal wasn’t sure why they weren’t coming through the door. They had proven that they could appear out of patches of shadow. And solid stone didn’t seem much of an impediment. Even with all their Guild badges lighting up the space, there was plenty of shadow.

The knocking continued. Soft but insistent.

“They can’t come in,” Hal reasoned. He spun about, looking at each of the dark patches of shadow where a row of shelves or a dusty basket slowly rotted away. There were no grasping hands, no stone-slab faces.

He wasn’t sure how, but Hal was certain that he was correct.

“He’s right,” Elora said looking between two boards of the barricaded window. “They’re out there, just… watching.”

“How many?” Mira asked, coming to take a look. Taller than the Ranger, she lifted herself onto her tip-toes and peeked through the same window.

“Fifty-seven,” Elora answered with startling speed. “And many more besides that are out of view.”

Mira let out a low whistle. “This’ll be fun.”

“So we’re trapped?” Hal asked, not bothering to look out the window. When he started to focus his thoughts on those creatures he could feel them outside. It was similar to how he could feel the general location of each of his party members. Except there were hundreds outside, spread across the entire city.

He walked a circuit around the room, looking at the walls for some sign. A reason that they weren’t already flooded with the creatures. Each time he neared a wall the whispers became clearer. He could make out distinct voices.

The Failure returns. To the Void. Return us. Return us.

“They hadn’t come inside the building either,” Elora remarked. “Once we had gone inside there was nothing, and we were only attacked once we were out in the open atop the roof. Perhaps there’s something that prevents them from gaining access.” She pulled back from the wall to consider her theory.

Hal walked past one tall shelf of crystal vials caked with dust, a quick inspection showed each of them long-since emptied of their contents. Still, he scooped the two dozen empty vials into his inventory.

Something caught his eye just as he was about to turn away.

Your Perception has risen to Level 10.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+20%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+50%).

+10% Danger sense (+20%).

You have 1 Perception Perk awaiting assignment.

Premonition 0/1

Gain the ability to see outlines and indicators where powerful attacks are about to land moments before they hit.

Keen Eyes 0/3

Increase your range of perceiving things through visual and audio cues.

Lv1: Vision & Hearing Range +35%.

Lv2: Vision & Hearing Range +60%.

Lv3: Vision & Hearing Range +120%.

Awareness 0/3

Increase your situational awareness, making Critical Hits and ambushes less likely.

Lv1: -10% Critical Hit & Ambush chance | -5% Critical Hit damage.

Lv2: -20% Critical Hit & Ambush chance | -10% Critical Hit damage.

Lv3: -35% Critical Hit & Ambush chance | -20% Critical Hit damage.

Hal paused. Wait, I get perks?

While each of the perks sounded great on their own, Premonition was the clear winner. If he could avoid damage entirely by seeing where an attack was going to land, Awareness was useless.

Placing the perk in Premonition, Hal felt a tingling current of electricity run through his body. And then he felt completely normal again.

With a shrug, Hal turned to the shelf that caught his eye.

There was a faint discoloration on the stone wall behind the shelf. He was about to ask Giel for help moving the shelf, when he thought better of it. He wasn’t a weakling anymore.

Grabbing the edge of the freestanding shelf, Hal tugged experimentally. The heavy shelf moved, slowly and with a great squealing noise. Hal pulled on it until he had enough room to slip behind.

Ignoring the curious looks of his party members, Hal examined the painted symbol. It looked like dried blood. Before Hal could ask if anybody understood the series of overlapping geometric shapes, Ashera and Elora were breathing down his neck, peering around him to get a better look.

“I’ve seen this once before,” Ashera whispered. “I recognize it from the Founder’s library.”

“Why would somebody draw it?” Elora asked. “And in blood at that?”

“It seems to be keeping whatever is out there from getting in here,” Giel put in casually. He didn’t need to get close to see over all their heads. “Whatever it is, it’s probably the reason we’re not swarmed.”

“But it doesn’t help us get out of here,” Mira added. “They’re still out there, waiting. We can’t hope to battle that many of them, even if we take them one at a time we have no idea how many there are.”

“Not to mention our supplies will run low long before they tire,” Giel said, crossing his thickly cabled arms. “If they’ve been here ever since the district was closed… we’d need an army to fight them.”

A shiver of revulsion passed through Hal. He staggered back from the group and bumped into a shelf in the middle of the aisle, toppling it and its contents to the floor with a loud crash. “That’s not the worst of it,” he realized aloud. “Without the Founder’s barrier, are they able to get out into Murkmire proper? Did we just let them out?”

The thought made him sick. With the way these creatures could practically appear at will, they would wreak havoc on the town. The body count would be astronomical. And it was all his fault.

“No, no,” said Ashera, putting a comforting hand on Hal’s shoulder. “That’s not possible, Hal. The Manatree prevents most monsters from coming inside its area of influence. The air becomes toxic to them, if they got out they’d disintegrate.”

“Then why are they in here?” he countered.

Ashera had no answers for that. But it Giel did. “From what my ma told me, it was the Founder’s own doing. He did something to the Manatree, brought down the protection for this place. But Ashera’s right, if they left they would be zapped like mosquitos to a Manazapper. That ain’t changed.”

More evidence that the Founder was a horrible person. All the more reason to set up his own Sanctum. If they could get out alive.

“Regardless,” Elora said, stalking up and down the aisles, “None of that helps us get out of here. We need a plan.”

“We could try and retreat,” Giel offered.

“Not a chance,” Mira said. “First of all, there’s no way I’m giving up this contract. And even if that wasn’t on the line, do you remember how wide open the district was right out of the entrance? We’d be swarmed.”

“The buildings,” Hal suggested. “We run from building to building carving our way through whatever we find along the way.”

“And where exactly do we run?” Mira asked.

“There was an area toward the back wall, it was dark.”

“Everything is dark,” she replied with a roll of her eyes.

“Not everything.” Hal realized they hadn’t seen what he had. “Up above on the roof, there’s constant twilight, except for that one area near the wall. Some enchantment or magic etched into the very ceiling that contains the district. You can’t see it from the street, there’s a barrier of murk. We couldn’t even talk to you through it.”

Guild Contract Updated: The Coffin Contract.

Against all odds, you have gained entry into the Coffin District. But what you found isn’t what anybody could have guessed. The monsters are not simple brutes or opportunistic predators. Something more is at work here. Find out the cause of the strange shadowy creatures.

Objectives

- Gain entry to the Coffin District (Complete).

- Clear all monsters from within the district itself.

- Additional objectives available.

- Discover the cause for the shadow creatures.

Rewards

- Guild Rank Increase (Variable).

- District Ownership Rights.

- 20,000 Sparks (Per party member).

- Additional rewards available.

- Experience Points (Variable).

It was already obvious to Hal that something was wrong. Something more than they were led to believe, even with Giel’s tale. But it was good to have confirmation.

Elora nodded. “It’s true, I saw it too. I tried to shoot an arrow at one of the Shadow Crawlers and it went wide. It was like shooting into a moving stream.”

“First thing’s first,” said Giel, turning to Hal. “I hate to put you on the spot, friend, but you need these more than I do.”

Before Hal could react, Giel thrust his large hand out. In his upturned palm was a sizeable amount of sparks. “You got any Class affinity yet?” he asked, dumping them into both of Hal’s palms.

They vanished into Hal’s inventory with a thought as he peeked at his Class Affinities and noticed, to his surprise, that he was at 97% Chimera Knight. “Actually, I’m very close to unlocking Chimera Knight,” he said with more pride than he’d felt since coming to Aldim.

Mira snorted. “Sounds like a fake Class to me.”

Giel ignored her. “We’re liable to run into more, so for now, how about you spruce up your swordsmanship?”

“I did agree to help out,” Mira said, coming up and dumping her share of the sparks to Hal, followed by Elora then Ashera. Hal decided to let Mira’s earlier accusation slide.

It wasn’t like he could prove it without being that Class.

All told, Hal now had a whopping 2,640 sparks.

Examining his Sword Skill further showed how much EXP he still needed to hit the next Level. Since he only recently hit Level 5, he still had a ways to go.

But after a few moments of careful examination, he found that Beast Magic was close to Level 6 as well.

Considering those were two of his most effective means of dealing damage, Hal split the sparks between them appropriately. It was a surprisingly easy thing to do.

Hal couldn’t help but wonder if somewhere in Aldim, a wealthy merchant accidentally raised some random skill by 40 Levels while drunk one night.

Your Sword Skill has risen to Level 6.

+1% Sword damage (+6%).

-0.25% Sword durability loss (-1.5%).

Your Beast Magic has risen to Level 6.

+3% Beast Magic potency (+18%).

The rush that accompanied raising a skill was just as euphoric as ever. He couldn’t believe that an item was capable of giving him that. He looked at the others around him, “Thank you,” he said with as much heartfelt appreciation as he could manage.

It was a kind gesture, even if it was because they wanted him to be less of a burden.

Elora called everybody over to a spot behind the counter near the front of the shop. Where the whispering voices of the creatures became discernible to Hal once again.

Cannot hide forever. Submit, Failure. Escaped us once. Will not permit again. Release us. Return to Void.

Their voices washed over him like cold water. He couldn’t get over the feeling that they knew him. What he thought were threats and insults seemed much more… personal. More and more of their strange sibilant speech was focused directly at him.

Hal shook the voices from his head and looked at what everybody else was staring at. Elora had found a trap door to a cellar filled with boxes and crates.

“I’ve taken a quick look already,” Elora said. “I found a door among all the junk. It leads into a hallway. I think there are tunnels below that we can use to get away from those things.”

It was a stretch, Hal knew. Tunnels below the shops weren’t such an unlikely thing but he doubted it was protected like the shop up above. But, there were no other good choices.

Going out was tantamount to suicide no matter how strong his companions were, they would be swarmed in a heartbeat.

This was the only option Hal could see working. For a moment, he allowed himself to think that they might be okay. The Shadow Crawlers weren’t clairvoyant.

He had to believe that they were roused from their slumber by the stunning pellet he dropped. If they could slip out without the creatures aware, they might stand a chance.

It was worth a shot.

35

Hal batted aside the questing arm of the Animated Doll and whipped out with his chain. It looped around the doll’s torso with a metallic report. With the chain taut, Hal used it to pull the doll forward. At the same time, he slipped behind it.

Giel stepped into the space provided with a heavy overhand chop of his massive greatsword. The Animated Doll broke apart into a shower of stuffing and wooden limbs, no longer moving.

Giel defeats the [Animated Doll].

You gain 250 Experience Points.

You earn 25 Sparks.

You absorb 15 Doll Essence.

You obtain:

- 1 [Doll Limb]

- 1 [Mana Core]

Your Improvised Weaponry has risen to Level 3.

+2% Improvised Weapon damage (6%).

+2% Improvised Weapon attack speed (6%).

“How many of those things are there?” Hal wondered aloud. The last two hours had been a collection of brief skirmishes with either the animated defenders ahead or the shadowy creatures from behind.

Hal was running on fumes.

They had quickly found that, for the most part, the Shadow Crawlers left them alone as long as they kept moving. It took them time to reach them, either because they lost sight of them or they had to burrow through several feet of stone.

In the end, they proved little more than a nuisance.

It was the security measures that had been left behind that were the true threat. Animated creatures, some made of wood and stuffing-filled cloth, others made out of metal and clay. The ones made of metal and clay were, by far, the more dangerous.

The shadowy creatures came after them, slowly but surely, while the dolls ambushed them from the front and through secret passages hidden from view.

“Keep moving,” Elora said. “Once we find a way back up, we’ll take a rest then. Until then we need to move.”

On they ran with Elora in the lead, their brilliant Guild badges illuminating the way. The tunnels were bland and roughly square with adjoining circular rooms every so often that branched into further tunnels. Some had ladders or stairs that led to the street above or the cellar of a building.

As they ran on Hal took out the curious [Mana Core], but before he could examine it further, Mira gasped. “You got a Mana Core? That’s awesome! Give it a squeeze, you’ll see.”

Deciding it was best to humor the Dragoon, Hal complied. The rough stone had a surprising give as he squeezed it. The whole thing flared to life, filling the narrow tunnel with blue light.

Soothing mana flowed into his veins as the [Mana Core] crumbled to dust in his hand.

You use a [Mana Core].

You recover 100 MP.

“That’s awesome!” Hal looked at his MP, it was practically full again.

“Yeah,” Mira said with a smirk. “Most monster cores can be used to recover one or more resources like that. Of course, they’re also expensive crafting items. Oh, don’t give me that look Hal! Better to have a lighter coin purse and be alive than to be a corpse laden with loot. You know the old saying.”

“What saying is that?” Hal asked.

“Packs laden with loot, are often low on supplies!” Mira cackled happily.

“I don’t think that’s a saying,” Hal said, something about the phrase tickled his memory but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“You don’t know,” Mira said, narrowing her violet eyes at him.

Rolling his eyes at her, Hal looked over the recent update to his Chimera Knight Quest. There were rarely ever two animated guardians in a row.

Quest Updated: Chimeric Attunement.

Your dedication to becoming a Chimera Knight is clear. Having achieved 100% affinity in 2 monster families, you are ready to join the brotherhood of Chimera Knights. All that stands in your way is to gain 100% affinity in Chimera Knight.

Objectives

- Achieve 100% monster affinity in at least 2 monster families (Complete).

- Gain 100% Chimera Knight affinity.

- Additional objectives available.

- Attain over 200% monster affinity with 1 monster family (Complete).

- Attain 100% monster affinity in 3 separate monster families.

Rewards

- Access to Chimera Knight

- Additional rewards available.

- Chimera Knight Level +1.

- Fabled evolution available.

Those last few percents of affinity with Chimera Knight were hard to get. It didn’t help that Hal was using Enchainment instead of Beast Magic.

But the tunnels were too narrow for Bomb Toss and he couldn’t get close enough reliably to use Goblin Rush.

Not to mention, Enchainment was the cheapest spell he had access to.

It was a spell that Hal was using with increasing frequency to hold enemies in place while Giel and Mira lined up their powerful attacks. Neither had the ability to maneuver much in the confined space of the tunnel. Having the enemy chained down in one spot made it easy for the pair to dispatch their adversaries with extreme prejudice.

It was usually up to Ashera and Elora to mop up any stragglers. While Hal dispatched the rare few that slipped past the two efficient killers.

Using Enchainment like that had brought his Enfeebling up to Level 4.

He had nearly three monster affinities at 100%. A few more ambushes by the shadow creatures and he would hit 100%.

Despite the obvious dangers, Hal found himself itching for another fight where he could use his Beast Magic so he could finally become a Chimera Knight. After seeing the Classes of his companions, he had high hopes.

The familiar whispering picked up again. The telltale whispering that presaged a Shadow Crawler’s appearance. He would get his wish soon enough.

No escape.

<“Wait!”> Hal hissed.

Just ahead of him, Elora slowed to a trot and looked curiously at him. Giel halted just behind him. All eyes turned on Hal.

<“What is it?”> Elora asked.

<“I can hear them.”>

Elora nodded, and tapped her Guild badge. The light winked out and dropped her into shadow. She crept ahead down the tunnel, as it curved sharply to the right. She disappeared around the bend and they all held their breath, awaiting her return.

This wasn’t the first time Elora had gone off ahead on her own. She often scouted the tunnels but each time Hal felt nervous and worried about her.

He reminded himself that she was a Ranger. And a good one at that. He had to trust her.

<“I can’t fight effectively down here.”> Mira grumbled for the tenth time. <“The tunnels are too cramped for my spear and half of my maneuvers require leaping and thrusting!”>

<“That’s why you’re at the rear.”> Hal reminded her.

<“Rearguard.”> She snorted audibly over the party communication. <“Best position there could be.”>

<“At least with you back there, I don’t have to worry about you stabbing me in the thigh. Again.”>

<“I don’t know how many times you want me to say I’m sorry about that. You’re like an old lady, constantly harping about the same thing.”>

<“Just once would be nice.”>

<“I apologized!”>

<“No. Just saying you apologized does not make it so.”>

<“It’s like listening to a bunch of children.”> Elora said, returning. <“There are three crawlers ahead in a small room. I see a ladder that leads up and two tunnels that branch off north and west.”

Giel flashed a toothy grin at both Hal and Mira’s scowling faces.

Ashera came up from the back and gently placed a hand on Hal’s shoulder, lending her support. She had always been quiet but ever since they entered the tunnels she had been practically silent.

They moved down the corridor as one, the dusty stone underfoot muffled their scraping footsteps. Hal kept an eye out for more traps. They’d been ambushed most often before entering a room.

To his right, something flashed pale blue in the outline of a doorway.

Your Perception has risen to Level 11.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+22%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+55%).

<“Hold up, there’s something here.”> Hal said, pulling up short.

Mira bumped into Hal and scowled at him, putting her hands on her slender hips. Out of the three people behind Hal, only Mira – who had taken up position behind Ashera – had managed to collide into him.

Hal turned to the wall and he searched it until he found the catch. There was a clever mechanism hidden within the stone and set flush with the wall.

Without his Perception picking it up, he would never have noticed it.

The stone door slid away into a recess, frictionless and without sound. Beyond was a small room, just large enough for one or two people Hal’s size. He found several strange symbols etched onto raised blocks on the wall.

Hal studied them for a while but couldn’t make heads or tails of either of them. But he could infer enough by the faded coloration and the general shape of the symbol.

They looked like elements. Fire, lightning, water, and fourth he didn’t recognize. <“Hey guys, I found a few blocks that look like buttons. Elora, clear out of the room. I want to try something.”>

<“I’m clear,”> Elora called back shortly after. <“I don’t know what you expect-”>

As soon as she was out of harm’s way, Hal pressed the fiery block. The stone depressed smoothly. He heard a faint click followed by a distant rush of air.

I wonder what that did.

Poking his head out of the side room, Hal watched as the Ranger sprinted with all speed toward them. The bend in the tunnel glowed as bright as a blacksmith’s forge. He could feel the insane heat from where he stood, sheltered by the hidden room.

The air became thin from the flash of fire Hal had triggered, the glow died down and they all perked up at the series of notifications.

You defeat 4 [Shadow Crawlers].

You gain 800 Experience Points.

You earn 80 Sparks.

You absorb 30 Shadow Essence.

Your Investigation has risen to Level 7.

+1% Investigation speed (+7%).

+2% Investigation success (+14%).

Guess Elora’s count was off by one.

“Isn’t it strange how well defended these tunnels are?” Hal asked, stepping out of the room and looking up and down the stone tunnel.

“You could have killed me,” Elora said, staring daggers into Hal.

“You did say you were clear,” Hal reminded her, taking up a position just behind Elora, prompting her to take point again.

With a huff, Elora picked up the pace into the blackened hall. Their footfalls fell onto oily, sooty flooring that revealed unblemished stone underneath with each step. The room ahead glowed orange.

Several low fires burned while piles of glowing embers smoldered in the corners. Large rents split the stone apart, the wooden supports half-burned or turned to a just another pile of glowing embers on the floor.

Mira whistled. “Would you look at that.” She stepped into the room, giving Hal a celebratory punch on the shoulder. Hal watched as his HP dropped a single point and reminded himself to keep on Mira’s good side. “Anything that was waiting for us in here is toast. Good job, dude!”

Your Leadership has risen to Level 10.

+1% Party damage (10%).

+2% Leadership efficacy (20%).

You have 1 Leadership Perk awaiting assignment.

Rally 0/1

Grants the Rally ability.

Rally: Once per day you can bolster your allies in or out of battle, restoring HP, SP, and MP by 20%.

Party Tactics: 0/1

When fighting with a party, each member of your party gains an additional 2% bonus to damage, defense, and healing per member within your party communication range.

Chain of Command 0/1

All Persuasion and Intimidation effects are twice as likely to succeed if you are the leader of a party.

Every 10 Levels I get a perk then? That’s pretty nice.

One by one, the rest of the party entered the room. They looked around while Hal lingered in the tunnel and decided on his latest perk.

While the minor heal of Rally would be nice, it didn’t seem that great to waste a perk on. He didn’t expect to keep getting Levels as fast as he was.

So far, Hal was rarely the party leader which put Chain of Command on the back burner. That left Party Tactics as the frontrunner. And while Leadership gave party damage on its own, Party Tactics gave a little of everything.

And if he was reading it right, with all five party members nearby everybody would receive a 10% bonus.

Hal selected Party Tactics and stepped into the room, grinning from ear to ear. He had several skills that were nearly Level 10 already. And he was more than a little eager to see what perks he might get from Beast Magic.

The room was ruined. Oily smoke drifted up from the large cracks that were as wide as five feet across in some areas, filling the domed room with a foul-smelling miasma.

The others were spread out, investigating the room and for once without a fight on their hands. There was something off about the room though. It filled Hal with a sense of dread that went beyond anything he ever experienced before. Confusion and worry warred with each other. Looking around at his companions, he found similar emotions playing across their faces, with the exception of Mira.

The Dragoon seemed utterly unfazed.

Mira reached down into a pile of ash and pulled out a glittering ring. “Look what I found!” She lifted the ring high. The ruby set within fractured the light from their Guild badges and threw it back in a crazed red sparkle.

Entranced by her find, Mira didn’t notice the dripping ooze that slipped from above in a long stringy strand. It was soon followed by half a dozen more globs of stretching oily substance.

“Mira!” Elora shouted, noticing the danger first. A bulging red-rimmed eye opened out of the black morass that had dripped to the ground behind Mira. It reached out an arm just as the elf turned to regard Elora. In an instant the Dragoon was sailing through the room, crashing into the wall with a bone-rattling percussion.

In the time it took the group to assemble into a ragged formation, Mira limping with the aid of Ashera, a large bulbous creature with half a dozen eyes loomed before them.

It shot out a gobbet of black slime, the group split down the middle dodging. Elora and Hal went left while Giel, Mira, and Ashera dove to the right.

In the end, it didn’t matter. They hadn’t been the targets.

The entrance was blocked by an oozing, pulsating mass of oily flesh.

With a sickening tearing sound, the creature reached behind itself with two trunk-thick arms of rippling tar and blocked the only other exits.

More bloodshot eyes popped open along its length until there were several eyes trained on each member of Hal’s party.

“That’s not so bad,” Hal said, looking at the oozing mess. Its body was bulbous and half-melted like a puddle of old candle wax.

Hundreds of thin insectile feelers sprouted all over its body. Razor-lined maws split open at random, nonsensical intervals, across tentacles, feelers, and the main mass of the perpetually melting creature. Each of the mouths let loose a litany of disturbing rattling cackles that sent waves of nausea through Hal.

Hal’s mind bent itself into knots trying to follow all the deadly chattering maws. Dozens of rippling, swaying tentacles filled the chamber. “Never mind.”

36

Is that a Shoggoth? Please tell me that’s not a thing here.

As soon as he thought the words, a shining orange light appeared on the ground at his feet.

Hal dove to the side just as the ground where he stood shuddered with the impact of a massive oily tentacle the size of a tree trunk. Mouths split open along its length gibbering at Hal. He felt an influence press upon his mind, urging him to flee. To cut down anybody who got in his way.

The psychic suggestion couldn’t find a purchase on his thoughts and it slipped uselessly aside.

The [Shoggoth Spore | Elite] uses Fear.

You resist the effect.

Oh good! Florking wonderful, it is a shoggoth!

<“I’m going to try and restrain a limb so you can hack it apart, Giel!”> Hal called out, getting to his feet again.

<“Which one?”> Giel’s voice was edged with panic.

Somehow, that made Hal feel more at ease. Knowing that something like this abomination wasn’t going to be a common occurrence made him feel a little better.

<“The one that keeps trying to crush me!”> Another orange bar of light flashed across the ground where he was standing and Hal barely managed to get out of the way before the tentacle came crashing down. The force of the impact knocked him off his feet and sent him tumbling.

Luckily, Hal didn’t need to be on his feet to cast Enchainment.

All he needed was a shared surface with the thing. He felt the arcane energies well up within him and burst out of his palm.

Spectral chains burst up through the ground. They snaked around the thick oozing tentacle. The way the chains bit into the fleshy black ooze oddly reminded him of using butcher’s twine on a piece of meat.

Giel was in position half a second later, the burly Warrior leaped through the air with his large greatsword in his hands screaming – Hal guessed – against the psychic intrusions of the creature.

Even before Giel was halfway to the thickest part of the tentacle, the Shoggoth had apparently gleaned his intent and was rapidly siphoning mass from the restrained body part.

Fortunately, Hal’s Enchainment responded when it changed size, keeping hold of the thing even as it shrunk.

Your Enchainment has risen to Tier II.

+25% Range.

-15% MP cost.

Enchainment II

MP: 20

Range: 12.5ft Radius

Binds target(s) with spectral chains, rooting them to the spot. Any damage inflicted upon them once bound breaks the chains. Must be touching the same surface as the creature stands upon.

The chains broke a fraction of a second before Giel slammed his blade deep into the flesh of the creature. Black blood sprayed in high streaming arcs. Giel raised his blade for another strike.

Confusion crossed Hal’s features as he tried to understand why the chains had failed. He had his answer when he looked around the chamber and found Mira on the bulk of the creature, her spear jabbed into a gory puddle where one of the Shoggoth’s eyes had been.

That settles that. Enchainment isn’t too useful against a large creature with multiple body parts if it’s still considered one creature. That means any damage it takes will break the spell.

A whip-thin tendril came at him, snaking in from his blind spot. He raised the [Goblinbane] and parried the blow, only after realizing that he had felt the danger from that side.

Even as he parried, Hala swept the blade up and around for a counter-attack. The blade bit deep into the tendril, leaving the last two feet dangling by a stretchy cord.

He was still getting used to having a decent sword and higher STR. He was used to the middling damage of the [Deserter’s Falchion] still. It struggled at times to crest over 20 points of damage.

On the other hand, even a strike without proper follow-through from the [Goblinbane] easily did 30 or more.

An arrow streaked by Hal and snipped the cord. The oily tendril dropped to the ground. It shuddered and bubbled. Like expanding foam, it doubled, tripled, and then quadrupled in size until it was a bulbous, cancerous form half as large as Hal.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Hal bellowed, slashing down with the [Goblinbane]. The creature was too fast though and it slithered away.

Hal whipped out with his [Iron Manacles]. To his horror, the chain sunk right into its oozing flesh. Hal got his wish a moment later when the creature pulled at the chain, nearly yanking Hal off his feet.

The stupid thing had pulled him close enough to make use of [Goblinbane]. He creased the creature’s bulbous hide and it released his chain. Hal was about to chase after its oozing retreat when he realized that half of the iron chains were melted away.

Thinking quickly, Hal dropped the ruined weapon and reached into his inventory. He pulled out the [Length of Void Chain], equipping it to his off-hand. He was more than pleased when it worked and the impossibly black chain appeared in his hand.

Hal chased after the creature, wrapping the chain around his forearm and gripping the links tight in his palm. They were cold and hard no matter how long he gripped them.

Rather than painful, he found them oddly welcoming.

He whipped out with the [Void Chain], trying to snare the creature again. As soon as the metal links made contact with the fat oozing flesh a violent reaction ensued. The creature’s many pustules burst into black smoke. Wherever the chain made contact, its doughy flesh shriveled like some long-dead thing.

Weakness Discovered!

The [Shoggoth Sporeling] takes 45 points of damage.

Additional Effect: Atrophy.

A grim smile spread across Hal’s lips and he lashed out with the sword next. He alternated his strikes. Every hit with the chain slowed the creature further and the sword cleaved the shriveled flesh apart like it was nothing more than burnt paper.

You defeat the [Shoggoth Sporeling].

You gain 45 Experience Points.

You earn 4 Sparks.

You absorb 10 Aberration Essence.

The [Shoggoth Spore | Elite] readies Noxious Discharge.

“Get behind me!” Giel bellowed. He reversed the grip on his greatsword, and stabbed it into the stone flooring, sending spidery cracks in every direction.

Giel uses Tenacity.

Giel gains 30 points of Resolve.

Giel uses Defiant Shout.

Once more, Giel’s meter was full of red drifting motes. An aura of the same shimmering magic appeared around him as he bellowed a roar so deep the ground hummed with the strength of it.

Hal wasn’t the only one who was making a beeline for the shouting Warrior. Hal made it behind the bulky man, pressing a hand to his back as if he could somehow lend his support. Ashera and Elora were quickly behind him, but Mira was too far.

The entire room lit up with Premonition’s orange glow of warning. Hal knew that Mira would never make it to safety. The azure scales she used for her jumping abilities were gone. She had no way to get to them.

Cursing up a storm, he broke away from the relative safety behind the Warrior and ran to meet Mira. Her eyes were already round with fright, but when she saw Hal break away from the growing bubble of protective magic forming from Giel’s magical bellowing, they nearly fell out of their sockets.

Ashera and Elora yelled out at him but their voices were drowned out by Giel and the pumping of blood in his ears.

Before Hal could regret his actions, he whipped out with the length of [Void Chain], rolling his wrist to lengthen the chain as far as it would go. Mira swapped her spear to one hand and reached out to the shadowy metal.

The chain went taut and Hal twisted, hauling on it with all of his might, sending the Dragoon whipping around toward the group. And to the safety of the forming shield.

The [Shoggoth Spore | Elite] uses Noxious Discharge.

Hal knew at that moment he was going to die.

The orange glow on the ground shimmered and winked out as a deep gurgling filled the chamber. Hal was already running back to the group but he knew it was too late. Mira only just then landed hard on one knee behind Giel.

A chorus of razor-filled maws spewed forth a toxic miasma that rolled out of the dozens of mouths and rushed down upon Hal like a sickly green pyroclastic cloud.

The chain in Hal’s hand went taut once more, and Hal was jerked off his feet as three pairs of hands reeled him in to the protective barrier behind Giel. But they were just a moment too late.

One second was all it took within that rolling, acidic cloud.

The [Shoggoth Spore | Elite] hits you with Noxious Discharge.

You take 120 points of damage.

You are afflicted with Death’s Embrace.

Agonizing pain wracked Hal’s mind and he nearly blacked out as he hit the ground at Mira’s feet. The world dimmed but Hal could see the way the rolling miasma parted around the shimmering motes of protective energy spawned from Giel’s ability.

If he hadn’t been about to pass out, Hal would have found it funny that Giel was literally deflecting a deadly blast that would have killed them all with the power of his angry shouting.

Every nerve was on fire but more alarming was the difficulty in breathing and thinking. His heart stuttered against the poison coating his body.

“Get him up,” Elora barked. “Can you heal him?”

Ashera’s hands were on him then. The rush of her Cure was immediately washed out by more pain.

Hal didn’t even realize he was screaming until Giel’s voice faded, then came back at normal volume. “The shield’s about to break,” he warned them.

“We can’t move!” Elora shouted back. “Look at him!”

“I-I don’t understand,” Ashera’s voice was shaky. Hal could feel everything slipping away. The pain was beginning to ebb. As much as he welcomed the relief, he knew that was a bad sign.

“Keep casting!” Mira cried.

“I am, but it is not working!” Ashera snapped back. He’d never heard her shout before.

“Any moment now,” Giel said. “Get ready to move, the fumes are dissipating.”

Hal’s vision clouded over. Pain stole thought and awareness from him. He was vaguely aware of the voices around him raised in emotion and edged with panic.

“Every time I cast Cure his HP bottoms out again! I’m torturing him, Elora!”

“If you don’t keep curing him he’s going to die!”

The pain ebbed once more and the briefest period of awareness came back to Hal, only to be flushed away once more in a maelstrom of razors slicing against every inch of his body.

“Hold on Hal, please hold on a little longer!” Ashera pleaded.

There was only so much he could do against all that pain. Every instinct rebelled against holding on, the pain would stop if he let go.

If he would just let it all go.

A moment later, or an hour, Hal couldn’t tell the difference anymore, Ashera spoke again. “Give me the Manaseed, Elora.”

“Do you know what we went through to get that?” Elora shot back. “Do you know how many people’s lives were destroyed just for this one Manaseed? Even if we save him with it… there will be no Sanctum. No hope.”

“We have to try.” Ashera’s voice was eerily calm. “He will die without it. Even with it, he may die. We might be too late. There are other Manaseeds, we can find another one. Can you say the same about Hal?”

Elora was quiet for a time, long enough for the pain to ebb once more. Deceptive warmth filled him, coaxed his body into relaxation. Hal fought against it with every fiber of his being.

But it wasn’t enough.

He had always thought death would be a violent, hard thing. He could feel the infinite, yawning expanse of the beyond an inch away.

It would be as simple as a sigh. Easy as a thought. He already had one foot dangling over the endless void and the welcoming warmth made it hard to resist the siren call. To put an end to all the pain.

Hal never would have guessed that death would be so… easy.

37

Hal floated somewhere dark and as soothingly warm as bathwater. There was an incessant tug at his navel as if somebody had a thread of his soul and was pulling on it with increasing fervor.

Disembodied voices drifted around him but he knew them well enough by now to tell them apart. He could almost see their faces.

“If we lose the Manaseed, there’s no Sanctum. There’s no safety for anybody,” Elora said weakly. “Almon died getting this. His family was slaughtered. I want to save Hal too, Ashera, but what will we do if we save a Founder only to have no shelter for that Founder? Is there no other way?”

Ashera’s voice rang into the dark. “We are not just saving a Founder, Elora! We are saving our friend. Give me the Manaseed.”

Whether she gave Ashera the Manaseed or not no longer seemed relevant. Hal had more pressing matters to attend to.

A pinhole of light blossomed amid the darkness. Fearing that it was the fabled “white light” of impending death, Hal pushed against it with all his willpower. It shrank for a fraction of a second before it exploded to cover his entire view.

A shadowy form appeared from the white expanse beyond and when Hal’s eyes adjusted half his reality was filled with darkness, the other with light.

Drifting before him was an imposing figure, all dark interlocking plate armor and a pair of raven-black wings spread out behind them. A dark cowl pulled low over their features, but a pair of luminous golden eyes peered out. Pinning Hal to the spot.

They made him want to spill out his most embarrassing secrets, to repent for every wrong thing he ever did, and grovel for mercy at this thing’s feet. If not for Ashera’s whispering voice drifting through the dark, he might have caved to that overwhelming presence.

“Please let this work. You cannot die on me, Hal. I will not allow it.”

The figure beneath the cowl snorted in derision as if they heard Ashera’s voice too. Focusing on the figure, he noticed a massive black scythe in one hand. The blade had a series of glowing runes etched into the dark metal.

With a gauntleted hand, the figure pulled back the black cowl revealing pale features, striking golden eyes, long raven-black hair, and a pair of ears that pointed out exaggeratedly. Her full lips were twisted in what looked like a permanent sneer.

The gaze she cast on Hal made him feel like an insect she would sooner wipe off her boot than converse with. She huffed and looked around. Presumably for somebody more interesting.

When she turned her piercing golden gaze on Hal again, he found it easier to shrug off.

The woman gave him an alluring smile. “Come now, Hal,” she purred. “Put down your burdens and come with me. You’ve done your part but your story is over. Accept it and move on.” She extended a hand toward him.

“No,” Hal said, gritting his teeth against the deeply appealing words. All his life he’d wondered if there was something beyond death. If religion was all some sick joke. Right in front of him was definitive proof that there was something at least.

And he was turning it down.

She let out a breathy, annoyed sigh. “I don’t have time for this. You are coming with me.”

The wave of her suggestive force nearly sent Hal spinning head over heels but he managed to find a reserve of strength to shrug off the influence. “No,” he repeated.

“Fine,” she said. “You want to do this the hard way?” She brandished her scythe threateningly, twirling it about in a dazzling display of showmanship. All it would take was a single twist of her hand and she could send the blade swooping down to cleave him in half.

And yet she didn’t. For all her insistence… she didn’t hurt him. The cruel black blade, curved like a talon, sang through the air inches from Hal’s face but never touched him.

She can’t hurt me. He realized. He wasn’t sure why he thought it but he felt the truth of it in his bones.

“If you knew where I could drag your pitiful soul you would not be smirking at me!” she railed at him, snapping her scythe to her side.

“You can’t,” he said. He wanted to feel smug but he wasn’t really sure how he felt about much of anything right then.

The woman visibly deflated. She motioned vaguely with her free hand. “What do you really have to go back to? Certain death at the hands of an unholy aberration?” She snorted. “Sure, I’ll send you right back only to have you come here anyway a short moment later. One way or another, Hal Williams, I will claim your soul.”

“Why?”

The woman pulled her scythe behind her and laid it down in the empty white space behind her. She sat on it like a was a ledge and raised her gauntleted hand, snapping her fingers. The white winked out, replaced by a somber pale-purple twilight that suffused the nothingness in every direction.

It was easier for Hal to see her now and how weary she looked. Her black wings folded behind her as she laced her hands in her lap.

“You know, I get a lot of questions as a Reaper. Mostly they’re banal questions about the deceased’s existence. If they are truly dead, yada, yada. But you’re one of the first who asked me why I’m doing it.”

She rested her elbows on her thighs and leaned forward to peer deeply into Hal’s eyes. Her stare seemed to probe him, though he couldn’t tell what she was looking for.

After a few tense heartbeats, she shrugged. “As I said, I’m a Reaper. My duty is to ferry souls from The Pale to the Beyond. You know, like that old human saying, ‘Beyond the Pale.’ That’s where I take people like you.”

“But why can’t you just… take me? Force me, like you said you would?” Hal pressed, more curious than concerned now.

“I should be able to compel you, barring that I should be able to force you.” Her gaze narrowed to thin golden slits. “I actually was trying, you know. But I couldn’t. I’m not going to get into the soul jargon with you, but suffice to say that you are not what I was told. Some souls are fighters, those have to be coerced.

“Your soul, it seems, has transformed into a fighter somehow. I couldn’t answer the question as to how that happened even if I wanted to, so don’t bother. Souls like yours need to be coaxed and coerced. That is not my specialty.

“Neither do I want to see you suffer as a Wraith or something worse. If you refuse to let me guide your soul, once your body withers away you will begin to change. Slowly at first, but soon you’ll forget why you stayed. Anger and grief will mix. They will send you into blind rages that hurt those nearby. You’ll hurt the people still mourning you the most. Might even kill them.”

Hal shook his head in disbelief. “I would never do that.”

“They all say that,” she said disdainfully, flapping a hand at him. “And in the end, they all turn. Every single one. Once they realize what they’ve done, they wail and lose themselves completely. The lucky ones never come out of their rage to understand the horror they’ve wrought. I’m here, in short, because your soul resisted the call that all souls must heed.

“You have died, Hal.” She gave a little sympathetic shrug. “You can wait around until you change into something truly monstrous, or you can come with me. I’ll be leaving shortly either way.”

Something seemed off about what she said. “I died,” he repeated. The Reaper watched him carefully. To Hal, it seemed she watched him a little too closely.

Then he remembered what Elora and Ashera had been talking about. Something to save him. Something Elora didn’t want to lose. “Are you allowed to lie?” Hal asked, hoping against hope that she couldn’t.

Then again, it’s not like I could catch her on it. She could say no, then lie to me. I’d have to find something I knew the truth of that she might lie about.

The Reaper twisted her lips up into another sneer. “No.” The word was practically pulled from her mouth. She spit into the void to the side. “Blegh, I hate that. Tastes like tar whenever I try to lie. Never works anyway.” She gave Hal a sly look. “No offense, I had to try.”

Pretty compelling, even if it is just an act.

“Am I presently dead?” Hal couldn’t feel his heart beating here, didn’t even need to breathe, not even to speak. But at that moment he could almost feel his heart thumping with anxiety as he awaited the answer.

She shut her eyes and breathed deep, then let out a long exasperated exhale through her nose. “No. You are not presently dead.”

“So they’re reviving me,” he mused aloud. He didn’t feel any different.

The Reaper shrugged again, showing how little she cared. “Maybe. You’re still going to di-”

Her words were cut off as several bright flashes of flame appeared in the distance, each flash a different color. They were far off, though Hal had no reference point beyond himself and the Reaper, so it was hard to be sure exactly how far.

Shimmering figures walked out of the flashes of light, making their way toward Hal and the Reaper as if the empty void were as firm as stone. The Reaper was visibly agitated, her words had fallen away and her wings shook themselves out to their full, terrible glory.

Warm, humid air filled Hal’s lungs suddenly and the pain he had left behind flooded back into his limbs, working its way from his fingers and toes inward.

As it did, the figures that were surrounding them blurred and became indistinct. Only the Reaper, sitting a few feet from him seemed in focus. The glowing orange light of Premonition’s warning fell upon her.

Hal reacted without thinking.

He reached out, planted a foot on empty air that should have found no purchase, and closed his hand upon her cold, pale wrist. He pulled the Reaper toward him in a lurching tug.

The pair collided in a tangle of limbs. Pain lanced through Hal’s body and he gasped a shuddering breath that felt like he was breathing in a thousand tiny knives. Light flooded his eyes, watering them.

Sound thundered into his ears. And a distant, ethereal series of discordant screams faded into nothingness.

A pair of hands grasped him and pulled him roughly to his feet. As his eyes adjusted, Hal realized with a sense of dread that he was back in the chamber with the Shoggoth.

You have been Resurrected.

You suffer the effect of Soul Sickness.

Contrary to popular belief, revival and resurrection are two distinctly different acts. The latter is all but impossible without the aid of overwhelmingly powerful artifacts or magic. Through the use of a Manaseed infusion into your very soul, you have been brought back from beyond the Veil.

Despite the miraculous occurrence, a soul is not an item to remove and replace at leisure. There are severe consequences for violating the most basic tenet of mortal existence.

-50% To all stats.

-50% HP, SP, and MP.

HP Regeneration halted.

SP Regeneration halted.

MP Regeneration halted.

You have unlocked the Manatree Skill (Level 0).

By absorbing part of the nascent Manaseed used in your resurrection, you have gained access to an otherwise impossible-to-obtain skill.

If you choose to share a piece of yourself with the semi-sentient creature, you will spare the permanent death of the Manaseed to which you owe your life. Doing so will have ramifications but will grant a temporary surge of a Manatree’s magical essence, known as Elysia.

If instead you choose to fully absorb the Manaseed, you will gain all of its Experience Points and the Manaseed will die. You will gain the ability to siphon power from the Manatrees themselves.

Divergent Quests: Twin Souls & Power Overwhelming.

Divergent Quests are branching questlines that require a choice to be made. By choosing one, or completing a single objective, the other automatically fails.

New Quest: Twin Souls.

By combining your soul with that of the Manaseed’s, you will save the semi-sentient creature’s life, folding it within yourself. Its powers will continue to grow alongside yours and may very well stay dormant for years. Make no mistake, a Manatree has the equivalent of a soul and this is it. As part of its gratitude, the process of combining souls will infuse you with a temporary surge of Elysian energy.

Objectives

- Accept the Manaseed’s soul, entwining your soul and its.

Rewards

- Temporary Buff: Elysian Surge.

- No Manatree will ever harm you.

New Quest: Power Overwhelming.

You have already partially absorbed the Manaseed. Finishing the process will slay the fledgling soul and allow you to take its power for your own. In doing so, you will gain all of the Manaseed’s considerable Experience Points, expanding the limits of your Discordant Stone.

Doing so will grant you knowledge about the intricate mysteries of the Manatrees. Your Manatree Skill will change to Manasiphon and you will gain the ability to drain the lifeforce of a Manatree. Empowering yourself even further.

Objectives

- Devour the Manaseed’s soul.

Rewards

- 80,000 Experience Points.

- Manasiphon Skill.

As out of it as Hal was, he had the presence of mind to still be disgusted by the second Quest. Without a further thought, he agreed to shelter the Manaseed. It may be lost as a Manatree, but the least he could do was allow it to continue to live on.

The Manaseed had saved his life. It would be cruel not to return the favor.

His sense of foreboding dread was washed away in a surge of magical essence. It was distinctly other. And yet, it felt soothing. Like standing beneath the perfect temperature in the shower.

Every ache, every pain vanished. The heaviness of soul sickness evaporated, leaving him feeling oddly buoyed.

Quest Failed: Power Overwhelming.

Quest Completed: Twin Souls.

By combining your soul with that of the Manaseed’s, you will save the semi-sentient creature’s life, folding it within yourself. Its powers will continue to grow alongside yours and may very well stay dormant for years. Make no mistake, a Manatree has the equivalent of a soul and this is it. As part of its gratitude, the process of combining souls will infuse you with a temporary surge of Elysian energy.

Objectives

- Accept the Manaseed’s soul, entwining your soul and its (Complete).

Rewards

- Temporary Buff: Elysian Surge.

- No Manatree will ever harm you.

Elysian Surge

Manatree’s, despite their nomenclature, utilize Elysian energy instead of mana. Elysia is a raw and potent variant of mana. Until the Manaseed finishes merging with your soul, your body will run rampant with Elysian energy. Your MP regeneration and magical prowess will be several orders of magnitude higher for a short while.

You are afflicted with Ethereal Instability.

However powerful a Manaseed’s aid is, it cannot completely negate the natural order of things. Not only have you returned from the dead, but you have seen fit to bring another soul with you.

Due to this, your body is having an extraordinarily difficult time staying rooted in a single plane of existence. At random intervals, your body will phase out of sync with the Prime Material Plane.

Elysian Surge dispels the effect of Soul Sickness.

That doesn’t sound good.

Mira attacked with relentless fury, taking on one tentacle then the other with explosive force. More often than not she found an eye and put it out but for every one she destroyed, two more grew in its place.

It was a war of attrition the Dragoon had no hope of winning. Hal had no idea how long she’d been fighting but already he could tell she was slowing down compared to the start of the fight.

But there was a rage in her that he had never seen. A driving desperation that spurred her on.

Elora and Ashera pulled Hal along to a small shelter where a boulder-sized chunk of stone had fallen from above and blocked the sight of the Shoggoth for the most part.

Hal was still reeling from the shock, his legs felt like jelly. Giel was laying against the sheltering chunk of ceiling, his chin resting on his considerable chest. A large gash alongside his head bled profusely, leaving a trail down his bicep and onto the floor.

Ashera knelt by him while Elora tried to rouse Hal.

“Hal!” Elora placed her hands on his cheeks, forcing his wandering eyes to her own. They were more blue than gray today, a pretty steel-blue. “Snap out of it! We need you to tie up the Shoggoth for a little while, can you do that?” Hal’s vision drifted a bit.

Why can’t I focus?

Elora slapped him. Forcing his gaze - and his attention - back to her. “Can. You. Do. That?”

Hal nodded woodenly. “I can do it,” he said, slurring his words. Elora turned away from him, cursing and muttering. She unslung her bow and fired into a nearby tentacle that was snaking its way toward them like some blind feeler.

“I can do it,” Hal muttered to himself, gaining more confidence. Dying, it seemed, was a deeply disorienting thing that wasn’t so easily shrugged off.

Hands placed on the ground, Hal concentrated as the world came into sharp, bright focus. The flow of mana was replaced by the surging torrent of Elysian energy. It wasn’t a trickle like he was used to, it was like the gush of a broken dam.

Chains as big and thick around as Giel’s torso leaped from every surface in the room. The dozens of thick cabling tendrils of the Shoggoth were restrained and choked. No matter how much the creature bulged or shunted its mass somewhere else, the chains bit in and the Shoggoth let loose a terrific screech that nearly made Hal faint.

Hal rose unsteadily to his feet and froze. His heart stuttered. There on his left was the Reaper, standing with arms crossed and an expression of unbridled fury on her pale, almost purple-blue tinted skin.

He was so caught up in the appearance of the Reaper that he didn’t notice the Shoggoth wriggling one thickly-cabled tentacle past the confines of the chains. It bore down on Hal like a freight train.

The Reaper jerked her chin at it, and Hal only had enough time to realize why he could see the Reaper again before the Shoggoth would crush the life out of him.

38

Hal threw up his hands in a vain attempt to block the bone-crushing blow. He shut his eyes against the incoming pain.

A shiver of cold passed through him. The blow he braced for never came. Hal opened one eye, then the other. The arms he had raised to block were there, unharmed.

And translucent.

The realization startled him and he took his attention from the Shoggoth, looking at his hands. Looking through his hands.

Am I already dead?

Hal looked around for the Reaper. She stood where she had before, arms crossed over her chest. Though the scowling expression was replaced with one of wide-eyed surprise.

A moment later the Shoggoth’s tentacle whipped through him as if he were no more than a ghost. Hal didn’t even register it. A shiver rippled through him again and his hands solidified once more.

So that’s ethereal instability, huh?

It was the only thing that made any sense.

He felt empowered in a way he never had before. There was a thrilling hum in his veins begging to be released. Glancing at his HUD, he saw something that made no sense. His HP, SP, and MP were all full but his MP bar was shimmering and glowing like it was radioactive.

His Ultimate was steadily filling up with golden energy, catching up to Mira’s nearly full bar. She had retreated, leaving the boss chained up as it slowly wriggled free more tentacles.

Enchainment, Hal realized, could adapt to any size but they could do nothing against the Shoggoth’s grotesquely unique manner of shifting its mass forward to squeeze through the chains. There was a finite number of chains conjured at once. And as the Shoggoth squeezed itself through them, it made slow but steady progress out of the binding ethereal metal.

With one last look at his party menu, Hal dropped to the ground. He planted both palms flat, feeling the vibrations of the Shoggoth through the cracked stone. He cast Enchainment again, once more the trickle he had been used to came out as a flood of mana he could barely control.

His first reaction was to stop casting altogether, to halt the deluge.

No. Hal batted aside the instinctual urge to hold himself back. He pushed down the fear and embraced the torrent of Elysia that coursed through his body.

The massive spectral chains that burst through the walls and ceilings were even larger than before.

The errant tentacle that had swiped through him was pulled down to the floor ten feet away, mid-swing with a teeth-rattling vibration.

I wish I had something more. All I can do is hold it in place.

Your Enfeebling Magic has risen to Level 5.

+1% Enfeebling success (+5%).

+2% Enfeebling duration (+10%).

+5% Enfeebling magic resistance (+5%).

Your Enchainment has risen to Tier III.

+15% Duration.

-20% MP Cost.

Enchainment III

MP: 18

Range: 12.5ft Radius

Binds target(s) with spectral chains, rooting them to the spot. Any damage inflicted upon them once bound breaks the chains. Must be touching the same surface as the creature stands upon.

Spell Evolution: Bloodrake.

School: Enfeebling

MP: 45

Damage: 1

Bleed Damage: 3

Range: 12.5ft Radius

Binds target(s) with bladed, spiked spectral chains, rooting them to the spot and inflicting Bleed damage. Damage inflicted upon them does not break the spell. Must be touching the same surface as the creature stands upon.

Even as the thought came to him, he found the mana that rushed out of his veins and into the spell subtly shift and change into something else. The chains grew angry spikes and wicked curved blades. They bit and cut into the Shoggoth, spraying toxic fluids across the room in streaming black arcs.

The damage was minimal, about 3 damage every few seconds from the chains, and a heftier 9 bleed damage on top of that. He wouldn’t be winning any damage awards, but while the Shoggoth was restrained at least it was taking damage.

And that’s what they needed, most of all, Hal realized. They didn’t need his Beast Magic, they needed the creature’s range of motion limited. That way they could attack with impunity.

No matter how great his Beast Magic might be, there was no way he could ever compete with four other coordinating fighters. He knew his role here.

Black ichor splashed on Hal’s back, burning through his clothes and boiling the skin beneath. His spell faltered and he nearly lost it entirely as his concentration wavered. He buckled down, gritting his teeth against the pain and denying his weakness even as the acid ate through his HP, dropping it by a full quarter.

Every other time Hal cast a spell, it was always a one-time affair. But now, he channeled the magic that flooded through him, maintaining a constant connection to the spell. He evolved and changed it even as the Shoggoth fought to slip out of its biting bonds.

The room filled with the sounds of screeching metal and the disturbingly high-pitched overlapping squeals of the Shoggoth’s cries from its multitudinous mouths.

Hal’s blood roared in his ears. Cruel chains leaped from the walls, slicing down onto newly formed tentacles and cutting them free. The cancerous creatures that formed were immediately pounced on by Mira, seeing her opportunity to get back into the fray.

Hal’s Ultimate bar shimmered a brilliant gold and a surge of adrenaline scoured his veins. The gathering fatigue and weariness he was feeling was swept away.

Your Ultimate is fully charged.

Echoes of the Damned unlocked.

<“Hal, you’re alive!> Mira cried with excitement. She gored one writhing tentacle and then flung it aside. The thing splattered against the wall. <“My Ultimate’s just about ready, you wanna go together?”>

He had no idea what she meant, her words came at him from far off through the roaring sound that filled his mind like static.

But he was never one to turn down an opportunity for something new. <“I’ll follow your lead,”> he answered.

There was no time to ask questions. He’d have to learn how to do it just as he was learning how to use his magic right then.

Through his connection to the chains, Hal knew that he was fighting a losing battle. Despite his swelling mana feeding constantly into the spell, the Shoggoth was shedding the dead and dying appendages faster than he could keep up.

With the party’s help exterminating the various Sporelings that cropped up, they had managed to fight the Shoggoth to a tentative stalemate. But he knew that the creature had more stamina than he had.

The damage they had done to the creature seemed more of an annoyance to the abomination than anything else.

Already the bright glow that surrounded his MP was dimming. And every second he channeled his mana he could feel the flood of Elysian energy ebb.

Without him restraining the Shoggoth, he didn’t like their odds very much.

<“Heads up, Hal! I’m about to show you what a Dragoon is truly capable of!”> Mira called out.

The Dragoon landed lightly ten feet away from Hal. Her spear pointed accusingly at the main bulk of the Shoggoth on the opposite side of the room nearly twenty feet away.

Bloodshot eyes blinked angrily at the Dragoon and the Novice beside her. With Hal constantly struggling against the titanic strength and disturbingly fast regeneration properties of the monster, it was unable to bring its full might to bear and crush the immobile Dragoon.

Blue light gathered around Mira’s body, serpentine scaly forms swirled around her and gathered at the tip of the spear like a blinding star.

Mira readies Ultimate: Azure Wrath.

She spun her spear, flipping it over in her hands and whipping it about in a frenzied action. All the while azure energy crawled along her lithe form and a shadow began to loom over her like a protective guardian.

The air split with a sharp crack.

An ethereal azure dragon appeared over Mira, its wings spread wide. Its fanged maw let rip a chilling roar that stilled even the Shoggoth’s constant wriggling and fighting.

The spell, Bloodrake, vanished to the back of his mind. Distantly, he was aware that he was maintaining the spell and even capitalizing on the devastation that Mira was wreaking.

Azure flames spread from the dragon’s maw and as one, Mira and her dragon guardian flew through the air on azure wings. They plunged into the depths of the cancerous creature that, upon realizing the intent of the Dragoon, desperately tried to split down the middle.

Hal’s chains held it down, slowing its progress enough for Mira to crash into the creature. The room shook with the violence of the impact, producing a spraying shower of gore and stone dust that clogged the air.

Mira uses Ultimate: Azure Wrath.

Reaching down into himself, Hal called upon his newfound Ultimate ability. He felt it there, waiting for him to take hold. The room darkened. From every shadow crawled a figure. They flickered and shifted within the cloud of smoke that Mira’s Ultimate had created.

Hal readies Ultimate: Echoes of the Damned.

The chains on the Shoggoth shifted and Hal stood to his feet, hands thrust out toward the thing. As if they were an extension of himself, and without the contact of a connecting surface he usually needed, the chains tightened as Hal closed his fists.

He made a ripping gesture through the air, pulling his arms to the side.

The resulting scream that echoed in the chamber was one of the most disturbing sounds Hal had ever heard. A hundred different mouths, each with their own voice, cried out in overlapping torment.

The bladed chains pulled what remained of the Shoggoth’s core in two, splattering the halves against opposite walls.

It wasn’t just the terrifying scream that stole the warmth from Hal’s blood. It was the shadowy forms that he had summoned. He recognized them.

They were him.

There were dozens of shadowy forms, from a quick count there were roughly three dozen, all cut from the same cloth. They lacked distinct features but he knew his own shadow when he saw it.

The shadows all bore altered shadowy visages of Hal, as if he had somehow called several different lives from parallel dimensions to aid him. As unlikely as that might have been, he felt deep in his gut that the truth was darker still.

Unbidden, the Echoes unleashed brutal savagery upon the Shoggoth. Some carried large swords that rivaled Giel’s, others used bows, crossbows, halberds, katanas, one that stood out as more solid than the others wore a sword and shield, marching into battle with grim determination.

The Shoggoth tried to strike out but it seemed petrified. Even its typical undulating motion ceased.

Between Mira’s recent attack and the army of shadows, it was overwhelmed. Each of the shadows leaped into the fray, slashing, bashing, hacking, and spellcasting.

Amid the shadows swarming the Shoggoth, a shadowy dragon appeared, the twin to the azure creature Mira had created. It let loose a silent roar and tore into the Shoggoth, ripping what remained into a mass of gore that oozed and bubbled. Its acidic secretions ate through the stone around them.

<“Holy. That was awesome, Hal! Do it again!”> Mira cried, staring in awe at the shadowy copy of her dragon Ultimate.

Hal uses Ultimate: Echoes of the Damned.

The [Shoggoth Spore | Elite] takes 750 points of damage.

The [Shoggoth Spore | Elite] is afflicted with Terror.

Ultimate Synergy: Echoing Doom.

The [Shoggoth Spore | Elite] takes 598 points of damage.

You and me both.

You defeat the [Shoggoth Spore | Elite].

You gain 12,500 Experience Points.

You earn 12,500 Sparks.

You absorb 200 Aberration Essence.

Your Enfeebling Magic has risen to Level 6.

+1% Enfeebling success (+6%).

+2% Enfeebling duration (+12%).

Your Bloodrake has risen to Tier II.

+2 Damage.

+3 Bleed damage.

Bloodrake II

MP: 45

Damage: 3

Bleed Damage: 6

Range: 12.5ft Radius

Binds target(s) with bladed, spiked spectral chains, rooting them to the spot and inflicting heavy Bleed damage. Damage inflicted upon them does not break the spell. Must be touching the same surface as the creature stands upon.

You obtain:

- [Corrupted Core]
- [Unidentified Cuirass]
- [Unidentified Boots]
- [Unidentified Jerkin]
- 10 [Vials of Acidic Ooze]

Hal watched with a sense of loss as each of his echoes vanished. They stood out, for just a moment, bright and clear to him. Paladins, Rangers, Mages, and every type of Class he’d ever considered.

One, in particular, the Paladin-looking echo, looked over his shoulder at Hal. He held Hal’s gaze for a fraction of a second before he vanished. The curving scar that went from his temple to just beneath his eye stood out sharply before he and all of the rest vanished.

The chains vanished as Hal let go of the spell, thoroughly drained.

The effect of Elysian Surge wears off.

From the Shoggoth’s melting body came dozens of Sporelings closing fast on the group. He looked over at the hiding spot of Ashera and Giel. A quick glance at his party HUD told him that Giel was wounded but on the mend and that Ashera had bottomed out her MP doing so.

Hal stooped down to his weapons, ready to grab them and rush to their defense. A chill passed through him. His hands swiped uselessly through both weapons and into the stone below as if he was a ghost.

No, no, no. Not now.

Driven by anger and worry over his friends he frantically clawed at his weapons, trying to get them to no avail.

<“The Sporelings are coming from the Shoggoth’s corpse!”> he warned.

Mira was too far to help, even with her supernatural jumps that let her soar through the air, she would never make it in time to help.

Elora’s bow hummed with a continuous melody as she nocked and fired with unerring accuracy. But even to Hal’s untrained eyes, the Ranger was going to be overwhelmed soon.

39

Ditching his futile attempts to collect his weapons, Hal concentrated and summoned the ethereal bladed chains of Bloodrake. The mana that flowed through his veins was back to normal.

Elora readies Ultimate: Empyreal Arrow.

The Ranger adopted a crouched stance. One Hal immediately recognized from back in the goblin cave.

<“Hal, a little help?”> Elora asked, her voice strained with the effort of conjuring her Ultimate.

The Reaper floated nearby, a look of sincere confusion on her face. Hal motioned to Elora, and the Reaper shook her head. Demonstrating her point by swiping her hand through a pile of stones near her feet.

With no other help forthcoming, Hal fell within himself. He knew it left him vulnerable to any Sporeling that came across him but he didn’t care at that point.

Reaching deep within, he tried to match the distance and strength of his previous supercharged spell. His mana dropped like a rock as he pushed Bloodrake beyond its limits.

Whip-thin bladed chains leaped up from the ground. They dragged the Sporelings, with their ungainly multi-legged gait, to a standstill. Moving his hands together, Hal lined up the creatures in a rough line ten or so feet across.

The strain was immense. When he was under the effect of the Elysian Surge, summoning Bloodrake felt like conducting a symphony. Light and airy, easily moved.

Now it was like dragging an anchor around. Though he was pleased to see that the improvements of Bloodrake II were readily visible. The damage itself was still negligible, but the bleed was nearly 20 points now. A significant increase.

The Sporelings struggled against their bonds, shredding their oily black hides. Hal felt several of the links stretch and tear apart under the force of the creatures.

Golden light flooded the room. The brilliant light lanced out from Elora’s bow and dove through the toxic creatures, blasting them apart into nothingness and breaking apart against the far wall with a room-shaking crash.

Elora uses Ultimate: Empyreal Arrow.

Elora defeats 13 [Shoggoth Sporelings].

You gain 585 Experience Points.

You earn 58 Sparks.

You absorb 45 Aberration Essence.

A Sporeling leaped at Hal just as he released the spell and came out his ethereal state. It knocked him the ground before he could so much as cry out. The ground cracked beneath him. He thought the thing was growling but realized the floor was shaking and rumbling beneath his back.

The creature had whip-thin tendrils that rose up behind its main, amorphous bulk. Its two oversized legs melted and reshaped in a continual, stomach-churning oozing motion. At first glance, Hal couldn’t help but see an oversized, aggressively mutated version of the nerd’s candy mascot.

Black spittle hung in thick strands as it opened its dark maw the size – and rough shape – of a beach ball. Hal had hoped that he would become ethereally unstable again but he knew his luck wasn’t that good.

The [Goblinbane] laid a few feet away to his left but he wasn’t going to be able to get to it before the creature tore out his throat. Swallowing against the pain he knew was coming, Hal shoved his right forearm into the thing’s lunging mouth.

If it was surprised by Hal’s action, it never showed it because it instantly bit down as if awaiting the meal all along. Savage pain gripped Hal and he nearly blacked out from the ripping, tearing agony.

His left arm flopped around trying to grab onto his blade while he struggled to fend off the overwhelming panic. The creature tugged and pulled Hal up nearly to a sitting position as it thrashed its head around. Blood sprayed out from his wound and he swooned with nausea and the mind-shattering pain of it all.

Just as he thought he’d pass out, Hal’s fingers closed on the hilt of his sword. His hand came up in a frantic flash, diving the [Goblinbane] into the creature’s cancerous hide.

It screeched in pain, releasing his mangled arm long enough for Hal to pull it away. He drove a knee up into its soft underbelly to force it off.

The creature recovered quickly but when Hal held the [Goblinbane] up, dripping the black blood of the creature, it gave the weapon a look of grudging respect and kept its distance long enough for Hal to get woozily to his feet.

His right arm hung uselessly at his side, the pain was almost gone, replaced by a pervading chill and nausea. Blood pattered to the shaking stone at his feet.

The ground crumbled and a bottomless fissure swallowed the both of them before he realized what was going on.

As the floor fell out beneath his feet and Hal tumbled in the rushing air that whipped about him, he reached out with one hand to summon Bloodrake.

A flash of red crossed his vision and the chains sprang free of his hand to encircle the free-falling Sporeling.

Before Hal could crush it himself, two colliding chunks of flooring cracked together a foot in front of Hal’s nose, crushing the creature into a thick oozing paste.

You defeat the [Sporeling].

You gain 45 Experience Points.

You earn 4 Sparks.

His MP was bottomed out. Hal transferred enough of his SP until it was barely a sliver of green, using it to stem the serious bloodloss of his arm. Assimilation did the work that even the best hospitals back home never could. But even with that, he was barely at 50% HP. He was in a sorry state indeed as he fell to his certain doom.

Blocks of flooring crashed and banged together all around him. The larger stones tumbled against walls that grew rougher and craggier as he descended.

A heavy chunk of rock rolled and twisted in the air. It was strangely beautiful, watching all the pieces of stone, both big and small, twist and turn about in a slow dance.

Only the knowledge that it was going to end violently stole away his sense of awe at the tumbling ballet. Unless he found some way to slow his falling, he’d be just as broken as those stones that seemed to float in the air around him.

The Reaper alighted to Hal’s side, watching him with those golden eyes of hers. For the first time since they returned to the land of the living, she spoke. “You can’t fly.” It sounded as much an accusation as a question.

“No,” Hal coughed out, blood falling away from his lips in tiny droplets.

“You took me from my duty,” she grumbled. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

Hal glared at her. “Seriously? You’re doing this now? I’m a little busy trying to come up with a way to survive this.”

The Reaper snorted. She fell at the same speed as Hal, heavier stones passed through her like she was no more than a ghost. “You hardly seem capable of extricating yourself from this situation. Why did you bother to fight to return here? You had to know this would be waiting for you. That just sounds like dying with extra steps.”

Aggravated at his powerlessness, and the way the Reaper so callously spoke of his failure, Hal lashed out knowing it would be worthless. His free - and newly healed - arm swung out hitting the Reaper solidly in the chest. The back of his hand slapped hard against her cuirass and she cried out in surprise. She certainly wasn’t crying out because it hurt.

Hal’s palm smarted from the hit and the Reaper tumbled away, for a second she was corporeal. Then her spectral form came back and she passed through the stone that she should have slammed against.

When she came back she glared at Hal but had enough respect for whatever he had done to stay well out of his reach. She stayed silent, studying him for long moments that Hal couldn’t waste.

Twisting about, Hal had the presence of mind to sheath his [Goblinbane]. He grabbed onto a flat piece of stone and crawled onto it knowing full-well that it wouldn’t save him when they hit the bottom. But he couldn’t deny the comfort of having something solid beneath him as he rose tentatively to his feet on the stone.

Up high above him, Hal saw Mira’s darting form leaping back and forth from one block of stone to the other. The heaviest pieces had fallen below them into the dark. He quickly searched for the others.

Alone among them, Mira would likely weather the fall the best. Given a little time, she could probably leap out of the entire pit herself. He couldn’t see Elora or Giel but the shimmering silver-white of Ashera’s hair was like a beacon in the dark.

She was falling, fast. From the way she tumbled and rolled, Hal doubted she was even conscious. He tensed the muscles in his legs ready to spring but held himself back.

What could he do in such a hopeless situation? He was on death’s door. Hal glanced accusingly at the Reaper but she merely watched him warily.

Ever since the Shoggoth, Hal had a bright blinking notification. An alert that told him he had completed a Quest. His only hope lay in the Chimeric Attunement Quest.

He should have finished it, and while he was hoping for something more, he wasn’t about to risk Ashera’s life on his own hubris. If they were to have any chance of surviving, Hal would need his magic.

And the only way to get it would be to Level Up. The [Corrupted Core] didn’t look anything like the core from the Animated Doll and Hal was hardly in the position to be experimenting.

He opened up his Quests.

Quest Completed: Chimeric Attunement.

Unlike the power-hungry Chimera Knights, you spurned the easy path to higher power and instead amassed your own knowledge and affinities far beyond what most Chimera Knights are capable of. Doing so while a Novice has proven your dedication to go above and beyond. Surviving death itself has shattered the mortal limitations holding you back from a true, unfettered transformation.

Objectives

- Achieve 100% Monster Affinity in at least 2 Monster Families (Complete).

- Additional objectives available.

- Attain 100% monster affinity in 3 separate monster families (Complete).

- Achieve a combined Monster Affinity of 500% (Complete).

- Gain 100% Monster Affinity with two opposing Monster Families (Complete).

- Reach 200% in a single Monster Affinity (Complete).

- Attain no other Classes while undergoing Chimeric Attunement (Complete).

- Return from the dead without turning undead. (Complete).

Reward

- Access to Chimera Knight.

- Additional rewards available.

- Chimera Knight Level +1.

- Chimera Knight, 2 Bonus Perks.

- Chimera Knight, 3 Bonus Perks, 1 Bestial Trait.

- Chimera Knight, 3 Bonus Perks, 2 Bestial Traits.

- Fabled Evolution Available: Beastborne.

Would you like to turn in this Quest?

Yes, Hal thought immediately.

A choice popped up. He could take Chimera Knight, with its bonus perks and traits it would be a lot stronger right off the bat. Or he could take Beastborne. A relatively unknown Fabled Class.

He held faith in Elora’s knowledge of Fabled Classes and chose Beastborne.

You unlock Beastborne.

Even among the lost order of Chimera Knights, there was a whisper and a rumor of something greater. A form of Beast Magic given physical form on the most fundamental levels. Many Chimera Knights died pursuing their desires to attain the title of Beastborne. Wielders of the most powerful Beast Magic, the Beastborne walk the razor’s edge between their humanity and becoming another terror that stalks the stars.

Fabled Class Trait: Regenerative Prowess

+25% HP, SP, and MP Regeneration.

Beastborne reaches Level 1.

You have 5 unspent Attribute Points awaiting distribution.

Your HP, SP, and MP are fully restored.

You learn Splice.

The core of what it means to be a Beastborne is their capacity to take the essences they’ve acquired and mix them into an entirely new form, never before seen.

Essence Capacity: 2

Monster Attunements

Each additional 100% Monster Affinity over the initial 100% provides a Monster Attunement. Beastbornes possess a higher affinity with monsters and as a result are able to take facets of highly attuned Monster Families for their own gain.

Monster Attunements are only active while Splicing the given Monster Family.

Monster Attunements Available

Aberration: 1

Goblin: 2

Hal’s head swam with the possibilities. He was so assaulted with knowledge and new comprehension that he hadn’t noticed the healing waves that knit his skin and muscle together on his right arm. He was back to full again, across the board.

The grin that spread across his face looked slightly sinister.

40

Hal left his Monster Attunements for later.

Of much greater import to him was his newfound ability, Splice. He reached into that font of newly granted power and knowledge. There were three available essences: goblin, aberration, and shadow.

Like Chimera Knight, it seemed Beastborne required at least a 100% Monster Affinity before he could access the associated powers. He couldn’t find any aspect of a goblin that would help him but aberration and shadow… those were rife with possibility.

He nearly retched at the first idea that came to him. A flesh parachute. More disturbing still was the sensation that he needed only to will it so and he would have it.

Nope. I have my limits.

Instead, remembering the way the Shoggoth stretched out its pseudopods into impossibly tight positions, Hal tapped into the aberration essence and Spliced it with the shadow essence.

The result was a series of dark, shadowy tendrils that stretched out from his back. He knew, without being able to see, precisely where they were. With each passing second, Hal became more aware of his new limbs.

It took some getting used to having extra appendages but Hal found the shadowy tendrils obeying his mental command as easily as reaching out with his own hand.

Easier, even.

The tenuous holds that the falling, rolling stones provided would have been disastrous to navigate before. But with his newfound power, Hal found the chaotic space as easy to traverse as if he walked on a level street.

All he had to do was think of where he wanted to go and the shadow-limbs moved on their own accord to support him. Tumbling, twisting stones were lightly touched while the heavier blocks were used as anchors.

The shadow-limbs supported him effortlessly, spreading his weight out among the six long limbs that curled and gripped stone at impossible angles while pushing off of passing debris, robbing it of its inertia, all in the service of keeping Hal balanced.

Hal reached Ashera’s unconscious body moments later.

His shadowy tentacles pushed and righted himself as unconsciously as standing up straight on a slant. He held out his arms to catch the tumbling woman.

Safely in his arms, Hal looked around for the others but still couldn’t find them. A cacophonous racket echoed up through the long fall and Hal knew his time was short. One look below showed him a rising cloud of debris quickly approaching.

Any moment now they’d crash into the bottom. Hal doubted his new powers would cushion him against such a blow. His Perception outlined a small natural crevice in the rocky wall, fifteen feet below.

Before Hal knew what he was doing, his tendrils coiled and thrust him across the gap between himself and the side of the pit. He found himself stumbling into the crevice, Ashera still held safely in his arms.

It was a tight fit but Hal managed to push through into the darkness, his Guild badge lighting the way.

The cloud of dust and debris rose up. It flooded into the narrow passage, choking Hal’s lungs and forcing him to lift a ripped piece of his quilted armor to cover his face.

An act he did unconsciously with a shadowy appendage.

The crevice split into several paths but Hal was drawn to a single one. It was the only one that had roots growing out of it. Intuition told him that those roots were important to follow. Hal followed the roots as they snaked through the rough, craggy chambers.

Ashera’s HP was low, hovering at around 7%. She looked rough, her hunting leathers were ripped and torn, splashed with too much blood.

Once they were far enough away from any perceivable danger, Hal set her down in the mouth of a rocky chamber that spread out into a wide cavern.

“Come on, Ashera. Work with me. I can’t heal you… how do I help you?”

He had no potions. No magic that could heal somebody other than himself. And that came at a steep cost. Hal thought back to his first meeting with Ashera. The notification he’d gotten had said he gained Sympathy was with Ashera, hadn’t it?

Kneeling beside Ashera’s supine body, Hal placed two hands over the worst gashes that peeked through her armor. Please let this work.

Hal triggered Assimilation, focusing on Ashera’s wounds. He had no idea what he was doing. It felt like he was walking in the dark.

Without a direct resource to restore, his Assimilation did nothing at first but he didn’t give up. He pushed deeper, focusing on Ashera as an extension of himself rather than another person. Her HP came into sharp focus.

For a brief moment, he swore he could feel the many cuts and broken bones as if they were his own injuries. That seemed to be the trick to it. As soon as he felt the pain, his SP drained at an alarming pace until it was entirely emptied.

Ashera’s HP ticked up slowly. 7%, 10%, 15% all the way to 25% until both his MP and SP winked out. His HP began to drain with a cold numbing sensation that frightened him to his core.

It was exactly how it had felt to die.

Hal kept a keen eye on his HP as he repaired Ashera’s broken and battered body at the cost of his own health. Once he hit 10% Ashera fluttered her eyes open, her own HP healed up to 50%.

You learn Empathy.

You are able to share buffs and abilities with any person you possess Sympathy with.

Gasping for breath that wouldn’t fill his lungs, Hal struggled to keep conscious. Ashera’s confused expression searched his face and then the area around her.

She reached out a weak hand and touched his cheek as if unsure he was real. “Hal? You look terrible.”

He assumed he looked the way he felt. Hal doled out a little EXP from his Discordant Stone into Beastborne. The rush that typically accompanied a Level Up washed the weariness and chill from his bones.

Beastborne reaches Level 2.

You have 10 unspent Attribute Points awaiting distribution.

Your HP, SP, and MP are fully restored.

Hal grinned at that. He had a good store of EXP left from all those fights and only one Class to spend it on. As tempted as he was to push Beastborne as high as possible to catch up to his companions, he held off.

While he couldn’t repeat the cure-all of Leveling Up again, as it reduced its efficacy by half each time, he didn’t know how long they would be down here. Even being able to heal up to full, then half, then a quarter more per day was worth holding onto the EXP.

For now.

At least unlocking Beastborne didn’t count towards the healing limit on Level Ups.

“Hal… what happened to the others?” Ashera asked, gingerly sitting up. She tapped her darkened Guild badge, adding its light to Hal’s.

Hal looked at the party menu, noticing what she meant. Giel, Elora, and Mira were all faded out. Their HP, MP, and SP were blank.

“We must be out of range,” he said, remembering the limitations of being in a party. “I didn’t think we went that far….” He must have walked a long way. With the unconscious aid of his extra shadow appendages, Hal hardly noticed the distance.

“You saved me.” Ashera reached down to a large rent in her armor near her pale abdomen. Her fingers touched the skin that showed no sign of scarring. “How?” Her confused, slightly sad eyes lifted to Hal’s.

“It turns out I can heal you,” he said, not wanting to elaborate further. “It’s… a bit unorthodox but it works in a pinch.”

Your Leadership has risen to Level 11.

+1% Party damage (+11%).

+2% Leadership efficacy (+22%).

A tiny smile quirked her lips. She shut her eyes, and Hal recognized the concentration. A moment later Ashera’s HP, MP, and SP flashed to full.

Ashera’s Sin Keeper reaches Level 12.

“Are you able to stand?” Hal asked, rising to his feet. Unconsciously he lifted himself with his shadow-limbs and Ashera’s widened, disbelieving stare nearly made him laugh.

He imagined he looked strange, practically levitating as his legs unfolded under him while he rose. His shadowy limbs would easily blend into the darkness behind him.

Hal lifted a shadow-limb and motioned to it. “I’ve got a few new tricks.”

“I’ll say.” Ashera gingerly gained her feet. Watching her, Hal remarked how ungainly it suddenly seemed to him to move without the aid of several shadow-limbs moving about and bracing him without conscious thought.

The roots that threaded through their chamber rose into a large spacious cavern. With no other goal readily available, the pair followed the roots as they grew in size and number.

Hal took the time to dedicate his 10 new Attribute Points. Fighting the Shoggoth showed him just how important having enough MP was. Hal stacked all 10 points into MND, safe in the knowledge that he could dole out some more EXP into Beastborne whenever he felt like it if things didn’t seem to work out.

He could actually test and adjust his stats based on his experiences instead of stumbling ahead blindly.

With 20 MND at his disposal, his MP jumped from 175 to 225. But of greater note was his regeneration. It leaped from 33.4 to 54 per hour. If he didn’t do much more than cast Bloodrake once an hour, he would never run out of MP.

But it wasn’t enough.

And he doubted it ever would be. Having near-limitless MP courtesy of the Manaseed now resting within his soul… was intoxicating.

Soon they were walking atop a roadway made of intertwined roots as thick as a car. “I always thought the Manatree was stunted,” Ashera remarked after a while. “But look at these roots, they’re massive.”

Hal could feel the deep wellspring of Elysia within the roots below his feet, courtesy of his connection to the Manaseed. The Murkmire Manatree was stunted. There was… pollution was the only word that came to mind, within its Elysian energy.

Something that should not have been possible. Whatever was ailing the Manatree went deeper than being stunted. He remarked on this to Ashera.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Hal said aloud as much to Ashera as to himself. He’d been looking over his attunements and found he still couldn’t choose.

Mostly, he was afraid that choosing one would permanently disfigure him somehow. Amorphous Skin sounded like his skin would slough off and ooze around as the Shoggoth’s had.

It might make him stronger but it’d also make sure he could never enter another city no matter how high his CHR was.

Ashera circled Hal’s wrist with her hand, halting their pace. “Want to know a secret?” she asked shyly.

Hal quirked his brows and leaned in, curious.

“Nobody knows what they are doing. Even Elora, the fearless Ranger who would sooner die on her own sword than admit she has no clue how all this will play out. Much less how to get the freedom she so deeply desires.

“Hal, none of us know what we are doing. But all of us are doing our best to figure it out as we go along.” She squeezed his wrist and let go. “There’s no shame in asking for help or not knowing the answer.”

It was sweet and comforting. Hal should have said something equally kind back to her but his mind stuck on one fact and he blurted it out before he could stop himself, “Elora has no idea what she’s doing?”

Ashera chuckled and continued on. “Not a clue.”

That, more than anything else, made Hal feel better.

They took to the rootway as Hal thought of it in his head. The roots branched over underground ravines and massive black glittering lakes far below at the edge of their light. All the while the rootway grew larger with wilting growths spreading out from weak branches.

Whenever it was too difficult to traverse, Hal lifted Ashera and used his shadow-limbs to navigate the uneven path of roots. Sometimes they spread as wide as ten feet apart with nothing between but a sheer drop into the darkness below.

The first few times Hal picked Ashera up, he had no issues. On the fourth attempt his Ethereal Instability kicked in and his hands swiped straight through her. They had to wait several long moments before Hal was solid again.

It startled Ashera as much as Hal.

He looked at his ethereal hands, thankful that gravity didn’t pull him straight into the planet’s core when the instability triggered. “When I was brought back… which I realized I never got to properly thank you, so thank you. Seriously. I heard how hard you fought for me.”

Ashera blushed a little and waved his thanks away. “You already saved my life once. And again now, it would seem. Elora would have done the right thing, Hal. She was just scared. I hope you won’t think less of her. What… exactly did you see, if you do not mind me prying?”

Shaking his head, Hal explained everything he saw on the other side. From the Reaper that he inadvertently brought over, to hearing Ashera and Elora argue. He ended with the Divergent Quests he received and the Ethereal Instability he was plagued with, asking if she knew anything of it.

“I am sorry, Hal, but no.” Ashera hugged herself and paced back and forth along the rocky ledge they were about to venture out from. “We… we had to use the Manaseed that Elora was safeguarding. It was bought with no small amount of blood-” Her lips twisted into a grimace at the phrase. “Suffice to say, we did not even know if it would work. But I had hoped that, with you being a Founder, a Manaseed might be able to pull you back from death.”

Hal vaguely recalled the pain-soaked conversation. At the time it had made nearly no sense to him but in retrospect, he could sort out their words from the agony that had clouded his mind.

“Does that mean the Manaseed is gone and I can’t make a Sanctum now?”

Ashera had no answers for him. No matter how desperately he wanted them.

Solid once more, Hal hefted Ashera into his arms and they continued on their way.

Passing over one subterranean complex of caves and paths, Hal heard a strange cackling sound from below. Normally, he wouldn’t want anything to do with it.

But with his newfound powers, he found a part of himself eager to explore and find new monsters. Something inside him craved contact with other monsters.

He didn’t know how he felt about that.

Ashera heard it too and paused, cocking her head to the side. She cast him a strange look but only said, “You are going down there, are you not?”

Hal looked sheepishly at her but couldn’t hold back the grin on his lips. “Just a quick peek.”

41

The Reaper had shadowed Hal as his strange powers manifested and he saved the Sin Keeper. She knew that one well. The Reaper had collected many souls that had been sent to the beyond by the hands of that unassuming one.

She grinned at Hal’s apparent dismay over her state. If only he knew, she thought.

There was a thread tying herself to Hal together. Whatever the boy had done, he had pulled her into the material realm, the land of the living. Mostly living, she corrected. She could feel the legions of undead that infested the world like a sea of putrid stars.

A silvery cord connected to her navel and pointed her toward the young man but she had no desire to get near him again. How he could see her on this plane, she had no idea, and when he touched her….

She shivered. He had made her corporeal.

That was impossible.

Though it strained against that strange bond she had with the “human,” she turned away and willed herself up through the shaft of tumbling stones.

“Where was that other one,” she mused aloud, knowing full-well that nobody could hear her speak. Not unless they were near-death or she willed it.

Neither of which seemed likely as she floated through thick blocks of stone that passed through her body and fell to the pit below. Her Death Sense would have picked up somebody ready to cross over.

Not that she had any intention of ferrying a soul in her present state.

“Let another Sister deal with it,” she muttered, scanning the broken ledges of stone as she entered the grisly scene where Hal’s group fought the Shoggoth. Even though it was merely a spore, she was surprised they managed to fell it.

That was something she’d need to report to her superiors. Shoggoths were incredibly virulent, all-consuming monstrosities. Their creation was banned on every realm she knew of. And her memory was vast and considerable.

The fact that even a spore had been found was troubling.

“There you are,” she said, spotting the blonde-haired girl. “Let’s see what you’re up to.”

* * *

Elora peered over the edge of her perch once more into the yawning pit that had opened up below their feet. She glanced back at the tunnel where Giel was resting with Mira. Luckily, the blocking goo the Shoggoth used to prevent escape had melted away after its death.

She had managed to save herself and Giel but had gotten separated from Ashera. The girl had too soft a heart by far. When Ashera noticed the Shoggoth’s acidic blood eating through the stone floor, the Sin Keeper had tried to reach Hal.

Always worrying about Hal, she thought with a hint of envy that she quickly squashed.

She tried to get in touch with Hal or Ashera after the floor broke but the only person who responded was Mira. The Dragoon had come leaping out of the pit like some demonic bunny, landing lightly on the sturdy ledge Elora had pulled Giel toward.

They were separated. Out of range for party communication, the only option they had was to find a way to regroup.

Elora rejoined Giel and Mira, casting an appraising eye over each of them. The Dragoon was wounded but from the EXP they had recently gotten, she should have no problem healing herself with a Level Up.

It was a crude tactic. Crude, but effective. A bit like Hal, she thought with a wry grin. That one always had a surprise up his sleeve. Would she even recognize him when they were reunited?

If we are ever reunited, a tiny dark voice whispered into her mind. They could both be dead. Despite the sacrifices. Nobody could survive that fall. Elora did her best to crush that voice back into the dark box from whence it came.

“We will continue onward,” she said to Giel and Mira. Her voice was only the tiniest bit unsteady. She wished Yesel was there to speak for her.

CHR was Elora’s lowest stat, she just didn’t have much use for it. The Rangers didn’t mind her gruff demeanor. Spending days at a time in the woods had its downsides.

And it showed in the way both Giel and Mira delayed their response. They glanced at each other first as if deciding whether they were going to follow her lead. Her high Leadership skill apparently wasn’t enough to offset her low CHR score.

“All right,” Mira said, rising from her crouch. “Need a hand big guy?” She held out a deeply tanned arm to Giel.

The big Warrior took it, his large hand swallowing Mira’s up to the wrist. Despite their size disparity, the lithe elf pulled him to his feet with ease. There was something off about that one.

Adventurers might have been uncommon in the region she grew up in, but Elora wasn’t entirely ignorant of them and their ways. An adventurer with a Fabled Class like Dragoon would be a hotly contested commodity.

The fact that she was still by herself at her Level told Elora there was more to the Dragoon’s story than she was letting on.

It was yet another plate she had to keep spinning.

Elora had already dropped the majority of her gained EXP into Ranger, pumping it up to Level 15 and getting a second tier of Doubleshot. She took a quick look at her stats, wondering in what direction she should build herself next.

[Status]

Elora Orthoril

Level: 35

Discordant Stone: 8,700/55,000

Classes

Ranger: 15

Novice: 10

Paladin: 7

Thief: 3

Resources

HP: 512/512

SP: 605/605

MP: 455/455

Attributes

STR: 20

VIT: 22

DEX: 57

AGI: 40

INT: 20

MND: 20

CHR: 3

Regeneration

HP/hr: 57.7

SP/hr: 191.8

MP/hr: 78.4

Resistances

Fire: 0

Ice: 0

Wind: 0

Earth: 0

Lightning: 0

Water: 0

Light: 0

Dark: 0

Defensive Properties

DEF: 44

MDEF: 24

Insulation: 50

She wouldn’t have been surprised if her CHR was lower than Hal’s. In a short period of time, he had become surprisingly commanding. It wasn’t easy watching the others turning to him when he spoke.

Not that she held a grudge. Hal needed to be a good leader if he was going to become the Founder they needed. The liberator her people so desperately yearned for.

As Elora led the remnants of her party down the winding tunnels, she couldn’t help but remember the argument she had with Ashera.

It wasn’t that she thought that Hal didn’t deserve to be saved. He had died as a hero. Selflessly running into danger to save somebody. Mira would not have come back to life so easily, no matter what they used on her.

If she was being honest with herself, she was angry that he had thrown his life away so readily. And despite everything, she still harbored doubts as to the validity of his status as a Founder.

She had expected so much more of a fight from him. Not only that, but the emergence of his Founder powers was… slow. Surprisingly so. As fast as his other skills seemed to grow, it was almost as if he was intentionally holding back.

When she reunited with Ashera, that would have to be the first thing they needed to discuss. A spike of worry soured her stomach over the kind-hearted lamora but she was quick to focus on the task at hand.

She was always quick to focus on what needed to be done.

And perhaps, she mused, that is why your relationship with Ashera degraded so fast. You left “for the greater good,” but to her, you still left.

Running ahead, as much to put distance between her thoughts as to scout, Elora came to a fork in the tunnel and pulled up short. She never told anybody about her secret fear that Hal wasn’t a true Founder. The vestiges of that doubt lingered like cobwebs in her mind even after he had torn down Founder Rinbast’s barrier.

That should have been enough. But it seemed like every time Hal did something to confirm his dedication, Elora couldn’t help but raise the bar further. She couldn’t quiet the insistent inner-voice that told her something was wrong. But repeatedly denying fact with “instinct” or a “gut feeling” was the height of idiocy.

Nobody would take her worries seriously. As well they shouldn’t.

All the logic in the world couldn’t silence that voice, however. And despite her own conflicted feelings, she really could have used Hal’s strange monster-hearing sense right about now.

She tapped her Keen Senses, focusing down one path, then the other. No sound, smell, or visual cue differentiated one from the other.

A series of rolling sensations came to her from behind, though.

Worry and fear mixed with apprehension. A limp on the left and a faint dragging on the right. Elora let go of her Keen Senses. Why were Mira and Giel still hurt? They should have had more than enough EXP to Level Up.

Getting 12,500 EXP was a staggering amount, plus an equal amount of sparks… Elora shook her head. It was a small fortune.

When the three - four if she believed Giel would help the cause - of them reunited, that was nearly a quarter of the cost for the supplies that they lost.

With the money from the Coffin Contract’s reward… it might be enough. She didn’t feel comfortable asking Hal to give up a potential home for the koblins. Despite their strange ways, she found them quite endearing.

They didn’t care that she had low CHR.

“Ya’ll want to flip a chip to decide which way we’ll be moseying on?” Giel rumbled beside Elora.

“We should go right,” Mira said, pointing with her bloodied spear.

A pair of red glowing eyes peered out at them from down the rightmost path. Elora couldn’t understand how these things kept eluding her detection. Meanwhile, Hal could hear them a hundred feet off.

“Did I say right?” Mira added, “I meant left. Definitely left.”

Two more pairs of eyes appeared down the leftmost, lightless tunnel. Elora cursed, smoothly nocked an arrow, and fired it down the right path. She charged down it, quickly outpacing Mira and Giel. Before she had taken ten steps she had already fired three shots into the creature.

But this creature was not the same as the ones they had been fighting. It was bigger, meaner, and had long black claws that swiped across at the incoming Ranger.

Her mistake at charging the thing was immediately evident. Elora dropped her bow, fell to her knees, and went into a controlled slide. At the same time, she pulled out her knives from the sheath at the small of her back and struck out with Crosscut.

The silvery light of the blades bit deep into the thing’s thighs. A shadowy substance leaked and fell out like heavy smoke. The Shadow Predator let loose a bone-chilling roar. Elora was up and facing the beast’s exposed back before it could turn to face her.

The Ranger grinned and reversed her grip on her daggers, foregoing the faster Flashstrike for the heavier hitting Snakebite. She lunged at the Shadow Predator, only to understand too late that it didn’t need to face her in order to attack her with those wicked claws.

Leaping through the air, she was utterly vulnerable with her hands poised above her head to strike with Snakebite. She could have canceled the attack and twisted aside at the last moment to blunt the attack.

But Elora was not the type to abandon anything, especially in the face of opposition. Draining her considerable stores of SP, she channeled Windwalk.

Green swirling wind wrapped around her. It pushed against her back, closing the gap before the Shadow Predator could get its arm dislocated and brought around in time.

Elora had misjudged the creature. And it, in turn, had misjudged her weakness as something to exploit. Elora accepted the weakened hit as the creature’s black claws cut into her leather jacket and drew white-hot lines of pain across her abdomen.

In the exchange, she was able to drive home her poised daggers. One into each shoulder. She felt the pulse of poison as her Snakebite struck home, delivering a fatal dose that would drop a herd of marids with a single drop.

She tensed, pushed through the pain in her stomach, brought her knees up, and planted her boots against the Shadow Predator’s chest. Elora wrenched the daggers out of its gelatinous shadow-flesh as she kicked off and arced in a backflip over the countering swipe she knew was coming.

The attack passed harmlessly below her. She landed lightly ten feet behind it and the creature took two twisting steps toward her but Elora was already wiping her daggers. She replaced them in the sheath without any paying any mind to the creature.

She knew the monster was dead already, even if it didn’t.

It never made its third step. The Shadow Predator collapsed. The shadowy substance of its body vanishing like smoke, leaving only a [Length of Void Chain] and a small bounty of sparks.

She had watched Hal use one as a weapon, but when she touched the metal it burned her with a biting cold that took off 2 points of HP.

Elora willed the loot into her inventory and headed back to the fork. She found Giel and Mira fighting two more of the large, gangly Shadow Predators.

Along the way she scooped up her bow and fired off a Flash Shot at the creature attacking Giel. The burst of light stunned the monster long enough for Giel to recover and charge in with a bellowing cry.

The resulting chop of his greatsword cut the creature in half from shoulder to hip.

This was, undoubtedly, where Elora shined. From afar she could rain down havoc and create openings for her fellow party members. Though she was working on her close-quarters-combat, it was hard to do with her previous group.

Running with a group of Rangers had its drawbacks. Most threats were felled dozens of yards away. With many of them never knowing their doom until it was upon them.

Elora had another arrow nocked and drawn, aimed at the final enemy. Mira lifted a free hand to stop her. “I’ve got this one.”

42

Even without the room she usually needed, Mira handled her opponent with surpassing skill. She choked up on the grip of her spear, thrusting and darting it in between the Shadow Predator’s defenses and swinging limbs.

In exchange for a turned blow, she traded an impaling strike. The spearhead thrust out the back of the creature and Giel hurried to get out of the way.

Elora could see he wanted to help but knew it would do more harm than good. Mira lifted her knee up to her chest, twisted on the balls of her bracing foot, and landed a solid blow right next to where she had left her spear embedded in its chest.

The Shadow Predator slammed into the opposite stone wall, the speartip clanged noisily against the wall, and the resulting impact ripped the spear back out the way it came. The whole weapon seemed to leap from the monster into Mira’s waiting hand.

As much as she didn’t want to be, Elora was impressed. Though she wasn’t a fan of flashy showmanship. It reminded her too much of her home and Founder Rinbast’s displays of abusive power.

Just the thought of Rinbast made her grind her teeth. Even after so long out from under his cruel tyranny she found it hard to drop the honorific Founder title before his name.

A title he didn’t deserve.

The way he treated his people was criminal. The way he had treated Ashera was worse. Yeah, and who saved her from that fate? Not you.

If she was being honest with herself, that sole thing laid at the heart of her prickly demeanor toward Hal. He had saved her childhood friend, her best friend, from a terrible fate.

One that Elora had gotten her into.

Given room to move, Giel took a step in, but before he could take a swing, Mira was moving. Her arm pumped in a blur, the spear spiraled with azure energy. Each stab pulsed with a bright flash of blue light.

Elora watched the creature die somewhere between the fifth and seventh strike. Mira kept going, cratering the stone wall the Shadow Predator had been pushed up against.

She was playing out her frustration. Between the gaps in the elf’s carefree façade, she could see the worry and guilt. It wasn’t every day a person saved your life, dying in the process. Then disappeared before you could ever thank them.

Elora was painfully familiar with those feelings of guilt and powerlessness.

When Mira finished, she had half a dozen bleeding wounds across her lean dancer’s body. Several large rents in her scaled armor showed more serious injuries.

Few people could move like she had while sustaining injuries like those. And there was no telling how deep the damage went.

Elora had a few healing potions but they were for emergencies only. The EXP they received should be enough – even for Mira – to Level Up and regain her health.

“Level yourself,” she told them, shaking her head that she had to tell them. “We don’t know how much longer we have to go and each of us needs to be at full strength.”

The Dragoon bit her lip, looked down at herself then back at Elora. Mira had more HP than she did, which was odd considering Elora had once walked the path of a Paladin.

Her Unyielding Faith and Minor Recuperation traits were one of the main reasons her HP was so high, despite favoring AGI and DEX.

More and more, she found herself wanting to get a better look at Mira’s stats. Not an easy task unless you were permitted. And she didn’t think the Dragoon was that open.

* * *

As the hours rolled by, things began to change.

The walls became hexagonal. The shadows had all but abandoned their pursuit, or as she feared, they were after easier prey.

Elora pushed aside the worry for her friends. She reminded herself that the only thing she could do for Ashera and Hal was to find a way to them as fast as possible.

The air felt strange. Despite Elora’s poor command of mana, she recognized the sensation as mana-saturated air. Something that should have been impossible outside of an active Manastorm.

Elora’s Darkvision resolved the rough patches of gray against black as threats. They hadn’t noticed her yet and she didn’t want to trouble Mira or Giel. While they were undoubtedly skilled, without a Healer, Elora was their best option for dealing with threats while avoiding damage.

The few fights they had gotten into since – mostly with various arcana family enemies – had proven to Elora that neither of them could get into a fight without taking damage.

It was what she learned at the knee of her father, after all. So long as she resorted to the tried-and-true Ranger tactics of killing any and all threats before they could close in on her.

Sometimes, she thought, nocking a Burst Arrow and drawing the string back to her cheek, being a ranged Class has its benefits.

Elora sighted her mark and released it in time with her exhalation. The arrow flew true, hitting the creature that lay in wait.

Before the explosion went off, she was nocking her next arrow. Just as the second creature realized it was under attack, that arrow had already blasted its clay body apart.

She’d review the logs later. Like most Rangers – and most adventurers – she had practically all her notifications turned off. It was too easy to break concentration on a target by a random notification. And they were easy enough to peruse later.

I’ll need to ask Hal how he has his once I see him again, she reminded herself. She hoped he wasn’t going with the default settings that every child had. Then again, if he did… that would explain a lot of things.

She rolled back against the edge of the tunnel and let the blowback carry the debris and heat past her. Giel and Mira hurried up, no doubt having seen and heard the sounds of battle.

They had agreed to stay behind to defend against any attacks coming from the rear. Neither of them had any hope of staying quiet. Without their stomping noises alerting every half-rate monster lying in wait, Elora was able to get the drop on most of them.

In many cases – like those dolls scattered to bits in the next bend – she had them dealt with before Giel and Mira ever rejoined her. She felt a little bad, knowing that the two were earnest in their desire to help.

Once more, she was reminded of Hal.

A selfish part of her had hoped that he had been an imposter. It wasn’t until Ashera had given him the Manaseed that she was absolutely certain of his pedigree. And she had to face the truth of her own naked envy, fueled by her powerlessness.

It had been a steep price to pay.

An entire village had been wiped off the map after the daring theft of the Manaseed. So many good people, gone. Women and children tortured, then put to the sword.

Not a single soul betrayed the true perpetrators.

The guilt still weighed heavily on Elora’s heart.

Yesel and Angram were all that remained of that thriving village she had once called home, and now they had nothing. A Founder without a Manaseed put them right back to square one.

Having a Founder but no Manaseed was just as useless as a Manaseed without a Founder. Except, Elora mused as she entered the tunnel and looked at the blasted remains of the two clay dolls, it’s infinitely easier to keep a Manaseed safe compared to a suicidal Founder.

Elora wasn’t even sure if he was alive anymore. As far as she knew he had no skills that could help him survive a fall like that. She had to hope that Ashera had found him and saved him.

“Aww,” Mira said, peeking down the tunnel and inspecting the damage. “You had fun without us!”

Elora shrugged her shoulders. “We don’t have time to have an open fight every time we run into some Dolls. We need to look for Ashera and Hal. There’s got to be some way to reach them. All these underground pathways, they must connect somewhere.”

Mira gave Elora a look of grudging respect. “You still want to go toe-to-toe with all those shadow-things? What if there’s another Shoggoth?”

“Then we’ll kill that too,” Elora said, matter-of-factly. “I’m not leaving this place without them.”

“I figured we were trying to get out of here,” Mira said, leaning against the wall. “You think they could actually survive the fall? That was pretty nasty.”

Elora crouched near the remnants of the doll bodies. Her Scavenger ability triggered when she examined them, providing her with extra materials to make more Blast Arrows later on. “I’ve learned not to underestimate either of them.”

Giel and Mira looked uncertain but wisely said nothing to counter the Ranger’s point. She brushed the dust from her jacket and walked past Mira, taking point once more.

Where she was most comfortable.

Unfortunately, Mira and Giel both kept pace with her despite their earlier agreement. Their steps were impossibly loud to the Ranger’s sensitive, half-elven ears. Any creature would hear them coming like a stampede of beefalo.

You better be okay, Ashera. I’m going to need your help to make it up to Hal. I’ve been unfair to him. I’d happily accept your litany of “I told you so” if it meant you were safe.

“Got a lot on your mind?” Giel asked, his bassy rumble carried far down the stone corridor. Elora repressed a wince.

“I’m worried about them,” she admitted. Ashera had been right. They weren’t saving a Founder. Hal had become more than that. He had become her friend, despite her prickly demeanor.

Elora had put so much importance on Hal that she rarely saw him as Ashera did. A frightened, bewildered stranger to a strange land, saddled with a burden he never asked for.

“Me too,” Giel said, placing an oversized mitt on her shoulder. “I’m confident they will keep each other in good company. Like two peas in a pod.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line to stop frowning.

“If they ever come back,” she muttered, too low for Giel’s hearing.

They traveled down the tunnels in relative silence after that. Elora dispatched any foes that got in their way with extreme prejudice, venting her frustration out on the unsuspecting creatures.

Would she blame Ashera if she fled with Hal? It sounded ridiculous but she couldn’t shake the thought no matter how hard she tried.

Ashera had warned her that she needed to treat Hal like a person, not an icon to rally around or a tool to be used. Now that Hal was getting stronger, would he even want to continue on to the Shiverglades?

Could she even stop him if he said no?

When she told Mira that she didn’t want a puppet Founder, she was only telling a half-truth. But after watching the terrible power Hal unleashed, even though he was just a Novice… she wasn’t so sure giving Hal free reign was a good thing.

Those shadows that he commanded, there was no mistaking the similarity they bore to the man. Thirty-seven all told, and she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling like that was somehow important.

The damage they wreaked was unreal. He should not have been able to draw on so much power.

It had taken her months of training and practice to utilize her Empyreal Arrow to any decent effect. She wondered if that was the power the Founders had. Preternatural strength that went beyond Levels and stats.

Giel and Mira flanked her as they entered a large chamber. The few creatures they fought were the various Dolls, arcana family enemies that had been given orders by long-ago masters to protect these tunnels.

It was too bad that the shadow-creatures were able to avoid them completely. She had expected to see signs of battle from the two creatures stumbling upon each other. But the deeper they went the less evidence of the shadows she saw.

Elora was so preoccupied with her thoughts – a rarity for the taciturn Ranger – that she practically tripped over the pile of strangely stacked rocks in the center of the chamber.

As soon as she disturbed the pile with the tip of her boot she realized her grave mistake.

The Golem reassembled itself into a vaguely humanoid shape made of floating, rough-hewn stones. In the blink of an eye, it towered over the Ranger that had so foolishly disturbed it.

Before she could so much as curse herself for the lapse in concentration, it attacked.

43

With Hal’s shadow-limbs, the climb down to the small cave was a simple affair. Simple enough, that his mind began to wander. He couldn’t help but think about how much more difficult the Coffin Contract had become.

The district was far more overrun than he ever thought possible. He had figured it’d be like a tomb. A few things here or there, mostly decaying or long-since-dead.

If he had a luck stat, he imagined it was deeply negative. It would have been the first thing he pumped up just to stop his ridiculous string of bad luck. What else would explain how he could come back from the dead, defeat a terrifying, mind-bending abomination, and then fall through the floor?

Back on task, he chided himself.

The next best thing to increasing a non-existent luck stat, would be to raise his VIT. With that in mind, he decided that his first order of business – once he was back with Ashera - would be to get Beastborne to Level 3 and allocate those 5 Attribute Points into VIT. Maybe more even more.

His survivability had been absolutely laughable. If not for the Manaseed, he would still be dead. It was not an experience he wanted to repeat.

Good thing the Reaper had disappeared. Her disappearance when he was no longer in imminent mortal peril confirmed his suspicion that she appeared only when he was near death.

Hal took a look at his stats just to confirm that nothing else had changed unexpectedly.

[Status]

Hal Williams

Level: 12

Discordant Stone: 21,436/55,000

Strain: 0/25

BP: 5/10

Classes

Novice: 10

Beastborne: 2

Resources

HP: 150/150

SP: 180/180

MP: 225/225

Attributes

STR: 5 (+5)

VIT: 5

DEX: 5 (+3)

AGI: 5 (+6)

INT: 22 (+1)

MND: 20

CHR: 5 (+3)

Regeneration

HP/hr: 21.7

SP/hr: 34.9

MP/hr: 54

Resistances

Fire: 0

Ice: 0

Wind: 0

Earth: 0

Lightning: 0

Water: 0

Light: 0

Dark: 0

Defensive Properties

DEF: 31

MDEF: 10

Insulation: 23

Monster Affinity

Beastmen

Goblin: 300%

Arcana

Shadow: 180%

Doll: 95%

Undead

Aberration: 255%

Class Affinity

Oathforger: 97%

Thief: 68%

Warrior: 54%

Survival Skills

Stealth: 5

Darkvision: 3

Survival: 0

Perception: 11

Investigation: 7

Manatree: 0

Combat Skills

Improvised Weaponry: 4

Sword: 6

Parry: 2

Magic Skills

Enfeebling: 6

Beast Magic: 6

Crafting Skills

Social Skills

Leadership: 11

Persuasion: 3

He nearly faltered on his way down, that was so much EXP.

He noticed his Burden didn’t increase from switching to Beastborne. That was going to be a problem eventually.

Knowing that aberrations were classified under undead made his skin crawl, even as he utilized their powers for his own gain. It didn’t sit right with him that he was so heavily aligned with something he hated so deeply.

It turned out that the cave below was much more than a simple nondescript tunnel. It had roughly hewn walls and the aged structure of a partially caved-in castle hallway. The walls were slick with moisture. The stone was heavily weathered, the worked pieces blended seamlessly into the stone of the cave suggesting it had been here for a very long time.

Ashera had, at his insistence, stayed up above on the overhanging ledge. It made him both nervous and excited to be exploring on his own for once.

The Guild’s badge lit up the dark cave entrance below. Several winding pathways joined this particular cave. But down the right-most path came the cackling again, only louder.

Something in the timbre of the noise set Hal’s hackles up. Instinctively he understood it to be an aberration of some kind but he did not know what. Drawing [Goblinbane] from his scabbard, he stalked down the strange hallway-turned-tunnel.

He missed his chain. It was lost somewhere in the pile of rubble far below with no hope of ever returning to him.

By now they had to be a few hundred feet below the Ring they had entered on. Though the elevation often changed and there was little to judge their general trajectory, Hal had a feeling that they were progressing upward.

And that, more than anything, made the appearance of ancient stone columns worn smooth with dripping water and time even stranger.

There were no roots in this smaller section of the underground. More often than not the roots seemed to enter massive caverns so vast that they appeared to have no floor, ceiling, or walls.

It didn’t make any sense how the town could be built upon so much… emptiness.

There was a squeal. At first, it sounded like an old rusty hinge. Like the screen door from his childhood home. But then it shifted tone into something else entirely.

Instinct told him it was fright.

That same instinct froze his next step before it touched the ground. He looked down, curious what had prompted him to stop so suddenly. He had never been much for intuition and instinct before.

The ground, though it looked very similar to the stone around him, was just the slightest bit off. Even with his improved Perception, he had entirely missed it. And as he stared at the flooring, it moved.

Using his shadow-limb, Hal poked at the substance to see if it would react. In the light of the Guild’s badge, it had the consistency of dough. The limb made contact and moved right through it as if it were an illusion.

When he pulled it out, nothing happened. He knew it was no illusion. If he were to put his foot in the doughy goop with its near-perfect camouflage, he would be stuck to the spot like a fly in a spider’s web.

His predatory instinct wanted no part of that.

There was a T-junction in the tunnel up ahead. The far wall was made of ancient partially crumbled dressed stone. It made him wonder whether dwarves existed in Aldim. After all, they had elves. Maybe it was a popular fantasy trope for a reason that went beyond simple reader expectations.

Using his shadow-limbs to lift himself up and walk on the ground, Hal drifted down the hall and took a left. Immediately he was hit by a wave of hideous cackling.

The [Gibberer] uses Gibbering Laughter.

Essence Resist.

Gibbering Laughter has no effect on you.

It would seem using essence had more of a benefit than being able to conjure shadowy, tentacle-like limbs that allowed him to traverse difficult terrain with great ease.

The sight before him stole his breath and he would have cursed himself for coming down if he hadn’t felt an animalistic thrill of excitement at seeing the grotesque creature in front of him. It batted away the fear, shoved it into a tiny box, and locked it tight.

Without conscious thought, a word came to his mind: Prey.

Excitement, rather than dread, filled Hal and he had to be quick to put a leash on the runaway sensation that wanted him to barrel in headlong and rip with teeth and claws.

Ten yards away the tunnel ended in a pile of collapsed rubble. Backed into that corner was a small… box? In front of that box and moving with sluggish purpose was a grotesque monstrosity. An aberration that looked uncannily like a Shoggoth except on a much smaller scale.

But it wasn’t. The creature was like a rough gelatinous cone of doughy goo that blended perfectly with whatever surface it was in contact with.

Though it had many mouths all over its body, it lacked the telltale pseudopods that the Shoggoth had. Not to mention the prodigious size.

With a thought, Hal’s shadow-limbs propelled him forward and he advanced on the creature.

44

He wondered why it hadn’t noticed his shadow-limbs stepping in what he could only assume was its skin. Maybe it’s a slime trail like a slug’s?

There wasn’t much room in the dark, narrow space to maneuver around the thing but as Hal closed the distance, the [Goblinbane] poised to strike, he was certain that the prey of this particular creature was a box.

Not just a box but a treasure chest. And a shabby one at that.

Its lid rattled in fear and Hal felt a pang of sympathy for the creature. For just a moment he paused, watching the slow progress of the Gibberer toward what he could guess was a relatively weak Mimic.

His newfound Beastborne knowledge informed him that this was a dance played over and over again throughout time and across many different lands.

The Mimic was a thing of arcana. Magically created and imbued. It was unnatural. So, too, was the Gibberer. Except the Gibberer, being an aberration, was on an entirely different side of that spectrum.

And in the monster world, that made them mortal enemies.

Their hatred for each other was limitless. The two would forever fight and kill until the other was wiped from existence.

A part of him felt connected to this cycle of hatred and death. But a greater whole was above it. A predatory sensation that told him he was above all of the squabblings between monsters.

He could use the distraction of the Mimic to pounce on the Gibberer and then he could claim the smaller creature’s life as well. It was more than a desire for essence, which Hal felt keenly, it was the instinctual need to assert his predatory and bloodthirsty dominance.

Two words Hal had never once thought of in such close proximity before.

As much as the predator inside him wanted to wait until the battle began to pick them both off, Hal couldn’t stand to see the cowering Mimic so terrified.

It tugged at his heart to see the thing so terrified. To feel its fear. Before he knew it, he was descending on the Gibberer, summoning the swift and brutal strikes of Rending Steel.

The [Goblinbane] swung around in an arc, slicing through two mouths and silencing them as they sagged into the doughy mass and were reabsorbed. The backswing of the blade bit into another pair of mouths. In the wound he just created, Hal dove the blade in deeper and twisted with savage force.

A gout of black, foul-smelling ichor sprayed out, splattering against the wall and sliding down to puddle against its own doughy flesh.

In short order, Hal hacked and ripped the creature apart. It was almost disturbing how fast the creature fell. He didn’t even get to use all five strikes of Rending Steel.

Sneak Attack!

You use Rending Steel.

The [Gibberer] takes 217 points of damage.

You defeat the [Gibberer].

You gain 200 Experience Points.

You earn 20 Sparks.

You absorb 10 Aberration Essence.

Your Stealth has risen to Level 6.

+1% Stealth success (+6%).

+1% Stealth speed (+6%).

-1% SP drain (-6%).

Your Sneak Attack has risen to Tier II.

+12.5% Sneak Attack damage (312.5%).

You learn Blinding Spit.

Eject a gob of chemically unstable ooze that explodes into a blinding flash upon impact.

Additional Effects: Blind, Enmity Up.

School: Beast Magic.

Type: Magical (Dark).

Family: Aberration (Undead).

MP: 50

BP: 2

Strain: 2

Damage: 8

You obtain:

- [Vial of Slime Juice]

- [Acid-Eaten Key]

The body exploded into puffs of purple smoke that stung his nostrils. He set the spell as soon as the process of absorbing its essence was complete. Hal felt the Mimic watching, though it had no eyes he could see. It held itself completely still as if poised to strike.

Hal turned his attention back to the Mimic. He lowered himself to the cavern floor, the Gibberer’s doughy flesh no longer carpeting the stone, and he walked slowly toward the beat-up treasure chest.

Once again, he felt more than saw how the creature observed him. Becoming a Beastborne had heightened his senses and given him an uncanny ability to discern the mood and temperament of monsters.

The creature was apprehensive, frightened of whatever could kill its would-be killer, and yet it did not attack as most creatures would. There was a faint thread of kinship.

Reaching into his essences, Hal relinquished the aberration essence and tried to combine shadow and doll. Immediately the shadow-limbs fell away into twisting smoke that pooled at his feet and evaporated.

He felt a twisting discomfort in his gut and the essence he had been holding vanished, leaving him bereft of anything. Okay, can’t use any essence that’s not 100%. Got it.

Focusing on strictly his shadow essence, Hal noticed the shadows around him grow longer and thicker despite the Guild badge’s illumination. They shifted and twisted around him, wrapping him in a shade of darkness.

The kinship he felt with the Mimic grew as he channeled the same arcana-based essence as its own.

Wrapped up in the same magical nature he could see the Mimic reacting to him differently. Confusion remained its chief emotion but it was also tentatively hopeful. It could sense Hal as an ally rather than a potential threat.

Is that why the Gibberer hadn’t noticed me? He wondered. Was I somehow masking myself by channeling aberration essence?

It stood to reason but without thorough testing, Hal couldn’t be sure. Hal made a mental commitment to test the theory out at his earliest chance.

New Quest: Scientific Endeavors.

You’ve stumbled upon a sound theory but need further testing. Rigorous testing is the first step toward a valid conclusion. Test your theories and discover the depths of your powers.

Objectives

- Test the nature of channeling Monster Essence and its effects on monsters of similar nature and those of opposing nature.

Rewards

- All attuned essences +10

That was a first. Was he capable of generating quests for himself simply by committing to a specific action that he couldn’t pursue immediately?

The more I experience these systems the more questions I have.

Hal slid the [Goblinbane] back into its sheath. “Can you understand me?” he asked the creature.

It perked up – if an iron-bound chest going completely still for a moment counted as perking up – at the sound of his voice but otherwise didn’t seem to respond further.

Once Hal was within 10 feet of the thing, hopefully out of striking distance, he stopped and crouched down to the Mimic’s level. He wasn’t sure why he was persisting in this endeavor.

Logic dictated that he should kill it. It was a monster after all. But his recent changes made him view the creature differently. From what little he knew about fictional mimics from his homeworld, they were typically evil and hungry creatures.

But he took that information with a grain of salt because mimics did not exist in his world. Besides, the thing was small. Barely as wide around as his thigh.

“Are you a runt?” he wondered aloud.

Once more, there was no response beyond the attention it gave to the sound he made. Hal wondered if monsters had their own unique languages. Goblins didn’t, though the way they warped the common tongue was often so vast and strange it seemed like a different language at times.

Crouched down low as he was, Hal tried a different tactic. One he had no idea whether or not it would work.

Concentrating on one emotion, he looked at the Mimic and focused on the word “friend” and all of the feelings he had when he thought of the word. Happiness, camaraderie, community, and cooperation flooded his thoughts.

A tense few moments passed. Hal’s heart thumped heavily in his chest, waiting for the disappointing moment that the thing tried to attack him. He knew he was taking a risk being so vulnerable and unarmed in front of what very well might be a deadly creature. But he couldn’t deny his desire to know more.

He had to be sure.

What came back to him wasn’t so much a word, but a series of images and feelings. Much like how Hal had associated “friend” with thoughts and emotions, the Mimic seemed to have its own set of feelings.

It was strange and wondrous all at once.

Hal tried to sort out what it was showing him. Strength in unity was one, full bellies was another, warmth. Satisfying common base concerns was the creature’s most used means of communication.

By the time Hal sorted through the imagery, the Mimic had started to inch toward him. It scooted and hopped, propelling its whole body forward bit by bit. One thing rang clear throughout everything else. The Mimic accepted the offer of friendship.

Hal gingerly reached his hand out to the thing. It backed away at the movement and Hal slowed the motion, holding his hand halfway between himself and the creature.

Like a lost pet, it tentatively inched closer. Its lid opened slightly and Hal got the impression it was sensing him in ways he couldn’t quite fathom. Then, with all fears and worries suddenly abandoned, the Mimic rushed up and bumped the rough wooden top of its body into Hal’s hand.

Happy. Friend.

This time, Hal could sort out the message from the images and emotions faster. A tiny ball of light floated from the Mimic to Hal’s chest and vanished within.

You absorb 5 Mimic Essence.

That is very different. A quick visual inspection of himself showed no black veins, nor any of the usual caustic elements of absorbing monster essence.

Hal’s immediate reaction was to look at the Mimic. He found nothing wrong and his fears subsided. The only time he had ever gained any essence was when he had killed a monster and even then it didn’t happen every time.

Perhaps interacting with monsters was the key to gaining essence. And his budding friendship with the creature had awarded him a small amount of mimic essence.

45

As Hal stood up and turned to go, the Mimic implored him with another series of images and emotions. Hungry. Want. Food. The only difference was, its concept of “food” was… unique.

Rather than the somewhat macabre expectation of dead adventurers or something like that, the Mimic instead wanted equipment. Armaments. It dreamed of snacking on iron plate mail and leather jerkins.

Gleaming, polished long swords made its mouth water.

The only weapon Hal had on him that he wasn’t using was the [Deserter’s Falchion]. And as remiss as he was to part with it, he could feel the faint thread of desperation in the Mimic’s mental urgings.

The poor thing was starving.

Hal removed the falchion from his inventory and turned to face the tiny creature. It was barely larger than a cat – roughly speaking – there was no way the whole of the sword could fit.

As soon as Hal offered the sword, the Mimic went berserk with hunger and want but it held itself in check – with great strain – because it could sense Hal did not approve.

Offering it, pommel-first, Hal extended the sword to the creature. It opened its velvet-lined maw and snapped down on the hilt. It did not chew or gnash, or even bite the sword.

Its lid clamped down on the hilt and it sucked the sword into the tiny confines like a strand of spaghetti.

The hard metal of the blade bent and flopped about the floor, drawing harsh scraping sounds across the stonework as the Mimic slurped it up. Hal had never seen anything so reality-bending in all his time on Aldim.

The Mimic finished his meal with a loud pop and a much quieter belch from deep inside the velvety confines of its mouth.

In less than a second, the sword was gone and a shimmer of golden dust erupted from the Mimic. It was now at least twice as large as it had been before. It looked as if somebody hit it on the top with a magic fairy dust wand, with the way the golden sparks showered off its suddenly enlarged boxy body.

A small dusting of that gold light fell upon Hal.

The Mimic reaches Level 2.

You absorb 10 Mimic Essence.

More images were sent to Hal, more coherent and structured than before.

It had been starving for a long time. All creatures and items it used to feed on had stopped coming by long ago. But it was scared to move out of its hole because it sensed its hated enemy, an aberrant creature that had moved into the ancient underground lair.

The aberration sloshed its gooey mass through the long-dead halls, picking up delectable equipment-laden skeletons and whatever else was in its way. Each day the Mimic had to go farther and farther afield, into unknown tunnels and strange places to find food.

Eventually, it had gone too far and strayed across the path of a lesser aberration. A Gibberer. By that point, it had become so weak that it stood no chance against the creature. It was only Hal’s intervention that had saved it.

The Mimic thought very highly of Hal indeed after that.

Even more, once it learned Hal shared a common ancestry. As strange as that was to the Mimic, it took it all in stride as a matter of course.

Leading the Mimic out of the tunnels, Hal noticed the creature had stopped following him at some point. He turned to look and saw the creature pointedly urging him down a side path he had ignored in his pursuit of the sound.

Following the small creature, Hal soon came upon a broken chest that had been caught in a tunnel collapse. From a large crack in its wooden frame, treasure of all kinds spilled forth like lifeblood, glittering and beautiful.

Hal’s excitement was tempered with sorrow when the Mimic imparted its thoughts.

Mother.

Torn between the spoils that he clearly saw in front of him and honoring the memory of the creature’s parent, Hal stood rooted to the spot. His heart ached for the grieving creature.

The Mimic, after a few brief moments of sad contemplation, had no qualms about feasting on the loot. It lurched forward and vacuumed up the glittering piles of gold, gems, and weaponry that spilled out of the broken remains.

The air filled with the sound of joyous tinkling and spilling loot as it flew through the air into the vortex that funneled the riches into the Mimic’s velvet-lined maw.

It left, by Hal’s estimation, roughly half of the spoils.

Another shower of sparkling motes leaped from the Mimic.

The Mimic reaches Level 3.

You absorb 10 Mimic Essence.

The Mimic reaches Level 4.

You absorb 10 Mimic Essence.

The boxy thing came up to his knee now. A proper treasure chest.

The rusted iron bandings were replaced with polished steel. Its splintered, rough wood was smooth and lustrous. The simple keyhole on the front turned into an ornate worked silver with delicate filigree around the hole.

The Mimic sensed Hal’s approval and practically glowed with the non-verbal praise. It cozied up even closer to Hal’s boot, nudging it gently toward the remaining loot.

Loot was always a tempting thing. In any game, in any life, wealth represented power and prestige. Even here, where the currency of sparks could literally increase his skill, wealth conferred advantage.

Despite it, he didn’t feel right looting the Mimic’s corpse. It felt wrong. Like he had stumbled upon a lost cub in the woods and then found its slain mother. Only to skin it and harvest its meat in front of the cub.

While Hal was aware the Mimic at his side didn’t have any reservations about the loot its mother once had, Hal did.

After a while deliberating, and with plenty of nudging by his Mimic friend, Hal eventually took a single piece of loot. A pair of knee-high decorated leather boots with delicate silver inlay.

Anything more would seem sacrilegious. He tried to express his concern to the Mimic but it returned only faint confusion. When it became clear that Hal was giving the rest of the loot up, the creature wasted no more time in absorbing every last gem and coin. Vorax gained one more Level and earned Hal another 10 mimic essence.

The few pieces of equipment that remained looked too heavy for Hal to wear and most of it wasn’t in the best shape. The boots alone looked to be of surpassing quality and when he tried to equip them he found out why.

Leaping Boots

[Feet] (Rare)

Item Level: 30

DEF: 5

MDEF: 5

+10% Movement Speed

Insulation +7

DUR: 500/500

Lv.15

It was the first piece of gear that Hal had received that he couldn’t equip, solely because he wasn’t at a high enough Level.

He grinned to himself. I can fix that.

Leading the Mimic out of the tunnels and back to the ledge beneath the overhang he had come down from, Hal allotted enough EXP to bump Beastborne up to Level 5.

All told, it cost him 2,340 EXP, putting his remaining EXP at quite a hefty sum of 19,296. It would cost him considerably more per Level from there on out. Level 6 cost 1,400 EXP alone. And he suspected even with the nest egg of EXP that he had, getting above Level 10 Beastborne would blow through the bulk of it.

With those 3 Levels, Hal put every last point into VIT. That brought it up to a very respectable 20. He paused, feeling a change settle over his skin. It was a tightening sensation, like one of those spa facial masks.

Over the next few moments, as the change settled over him, he began to feel… heavier. He wasn’t fatter, or even larger in any way he could perceive. But there was no denying his increased weight.

The Mimic turned to regard him, and Hal could feel it looking at him with something akin to pride. “So you understand Leveling,” Hal mused.

When he started off again, his new weight - he double-checked his status to make sure he didn’t have some random Debuff - caused him to stumble. Clumsily, he careened into a rough section of the cavern wall and felt a dull ache of pain across his cheek where he hit a jut of stone.

Hal grumbled. He took more damage from less before, but as he glanced at his HP… he noticed he wasn’t hurt. Raising a hand to his cheek, all he felt was the bit of stone dust that clung to his skin.

Curious, Hal pinched his cheek as hard as he could. It stung a little but felt... firmer? It was hard to pin down.

Was that what VIT did? It didn’t make him bigger and beefier as STR did. Instead, it seemed to make him sturdier.

His body was more solidly built. While he still took up the same physical space he was notably denser. “That’s interesting,” he mused aloud.

His HP jumped up to 255, and his regeneration went up from 24.6 to 41.6 an hour. It was still slow. In fact, all regeneration felt horrendously slow.

It only made it all the more important to have a large pool since it took so long to recover any resource. They sped up when camping or resting to double or higher but out in the wilds - and Hal counted the disturbingly massive caverns beneath Murkmire as wild - it would take several hours to fill up his MP.

The regeneration for HP was not as large of an increase as his MP had been. But a large improvement all the same. He also noticed that every Level Up carried with it a small boost to his HP, MP, SP, as well as their regeneration.

Maybe it wasn’t that great of an idea to put so much into VIT. It certainly flew in the face of the “typical mage” that died from a splinter. But nothing about Beastborne was typical.

Furthermore, there was so much riding on his shoulders that he felt it would be insulting to his friends if he continued to be a liability.

True, an increase of 50ish HP might not seem like a lot to somebody with 500 HP but to Hal, it was a rough 20% increase. That placed his HP and MP on practically level terms. Although his HP regenerated much slower.

Hal slipped on the [Leaping Boots], finally of the appropriate Level to wear them. He watched with a satisfied grin as his DEF rose 3 points and his MDEF 5 points. The downside was he gave up 2 points each of DEX and AGI. A worthy trade, considering the 10% movement speed bonus.

Especially when he could just trigger another Level Up and permanently allocate the points.

With his improved VIT, Hal was eager to see what the difference between DEF and VIT was. The systems at play hardly seemed as simple as a first glance would have one believe.

He touched his cheek again, reminded of how stark a difference 15 VIT was. If he assumed that a baseline of 5 stat points was roughly equivalent to a human back on Earth… maybe he should double everything to 10. That way he would at least be somewhat superhuman.

Rather than allocate the points right then, he decided it would be best to wait until they camped. He was getting tired. If they didn’t meet any opposition between then and now, he would use his spare EXP to boost all his stats to a baseline of 10.

Then he could begin to focus on those that mattered to him without fearing that he had a glaring weakness. Being “just a normal human” was starting to look more and more like a weakness to him.

The Level Up notifications blinked, demanding his attention. He dismissed them, focusing on his Beastborne prompts.

Beastborne reaches Level 5.

You learn the Beast Killer trait.

Gives you an edge when fighting Beast Family monsters, increasing damage dealt while decreasing damage taken. Adds a chance to Intimidate Beasts.

You have 1 Beastborne Perk point awaiting assignment.

Essence Tap 0/1

Increase Essence Gain by 25%. Increases chance of gaining Essence upon successful kill.

Essence Delve 0/1

Increase potency of Essence Powers and allow greater attunement when imbued with a specific Essence.

Deep Magic 0/3

Alters the Elemental and Monster properties of unassociated held weapons to include currently attuned Essence.

Lv1: Adds Elemental & Monster Properties to weaponry.

Lv2: Includes Weaponskills and Abilities.

Lv3: Includes Spells.

While gaining more essence was indeed useful, as anything over 100% appeared to give him access to the Monster Affinity as well as awarding him a perk that let him increase that essence’s specific utility, he could always hunt more monsters.

It was a time saver. Nothing more.

Essence Delve, now that seemed useful. It gave him greater power with all essences and that was something he suspected was far-reaching and immensely powerful.

If not for Deep Magic, he would have picked it. But as soon as he saw Deep Magic he knew what he was going to choose. There was simply no denying the overwhelming utility and power that could afford him. Especially if his theory that there was a series of mechanics between different Monster Families.

Acknowledging the assignment, Hal drew his [Goblinbane] and studied the curved blade that ended in a cruel point. No doubt it was a beautiful sword with lightly etched runes along the flat sides.

As Hal’s mind awoke to new knowledge, he tapped his newfound understanding of Beastborne. He watched with amazement as curling black shadow leaped from the dark around him and clung to the blade.

Shadows roiled and drifted off the dark edge of the [Goblinbane] like dry ice vapors. The shadows fell and pooled at his feet, creating eddying currents before vanishing completely.

Despite the Guild’s badge being less than two feet from the blade, the metal did not gleam. It seemed to reject the shine of light upon it, swallowing it whole.

I could get used to this.

46

Hal sheathed the shadowy blade, enamored by the way the shadows fell off the metal as it slid home into the sheath. They drifted through the air like ephemeral ribbons.

It was still all bright and new to him, like a shiny toy.

Channeling his shadow essence, which was using his Splice ability on only a single essence, Hal reached out and tried to make his shadow-limbs again. They formed easily enough.

But when he went to lift himself up to the next handholds he spotted… nothing happened.

The problem with shadow was, it was immaterial.

Without realizing it, Hal had spliced two opposing affinities together. Not only that, but he had also spliced two opposing states, material and immaterial.

As he delved within himself, seeking out how he had made the shadow-limbs before, Hal garnered a deeper understanding of Splice and its near-limitless capacity to change him.

The ability was in its nascent stages, as was his understanding of it, but if it continued to grow in power – and his comprehension kept apace – he could see grand possibilities.

The Mimic jerked when Hal began Splicing the aberration essence. It didn’t quite turn aggressive but its confusion was clearly sent to Hal. It sensed something else, the very essence of the creature it despised but also Hal, and the familiarity of another arcana-based creature.

Friend? Family? Came the worried, plaintive wordless communication.

Hal turned and reassured the Mimic, petting its smooth curved lid. He didn’t want it to think that he was betraying it.

He did his best to send calming images of companionship. It only occurred to Hal once he had reformed his shadow-limbs that Ashera might not be so welcoming to the diminutive creature.

Once more, Hal focused on imagery and emotion, extending his consciousness toward the Mimic by his side. Not wanting to overwhelm the poor thing, he showed images of Ashera. His friendship with her, their companionship, and how she saved his life.

Emanations of confusion shifted into understanding and then a single crystallized thought: Family.

Hal wasn’t sure he thought of Ashera or the others like that but if the Mimic did then Hal wasn’t about to disabuse him of the notion. The last thing he wanted was for the creature to think his friends were snacks.

And yet, he didn’t think it was necessary to worry. The Mimic didn’t seem terribly concerned with eating anything living. It preferred its meals to be cold steel, precious gems, and glittering gold.

As Hal set his shadow-aberration limbs into place, he looked at the Mimic realizing he couldn’t keep calling it that. If only for his own sanity. But he didn’t know how to address the issue.

“We need to give you a name,” Hal said to the Mimic, which was idly nibbling on his newly equipped [Leaping Boots].

Feelings of identity and persona were sent out but it became confusing to the creature as Hal kept mixing up what he thought of himself and imparting that muddled message to the Mimic.

Says a lot about me if I don’t know my own identity.

Switching tactics, Hal tried to go for the simplistic approach. A name. Every society and every language used names for things, even if they were able to communicate like the Mimic. It would still need a name for rock and stone.

Or so he thought.

The problem with sympathetic telepathy was the lack of required explanation. There didn’t need to be an agreed-upon word, sound, or image for a specific rock when you could simply send that precise image to the other person.

In a way, it made every item unique. And also deeply confusing. But the Mimic had imparted feelings of hunger and loneliness to him before. Perhaps there was another way to go about doing this.

Eventually, Hal managed to get through to the Mimic. It took him a collection of feelings, impressions, and imagery for the Mimic to fully understand. In the end, Hal wasn’t surprised that the thing had no name. It was what it was.

Just as every person has a unique fingerprint or timbre to their voice, mimics could tell each other apart by their sympathetic emanations. It had taken Hal quite some time to reach that conclusion but once he did, he latched onto it and pressed the confused treasure chest.

“How about, ‘Vorax’?” Hal asked.

The Mimic wasn’t thrilled about the name until Hal imparted its meaning. An image of a voracious, unending abyss where all manner of treasure and loot fell into its waiting, velvet-lined maw.

Though the word was foreign to the Mimic, it refused to associate with anything else from then on.

So much so, that when Hal looked at him again, his nameplate had changed.

[Vorax | Lv.5]

Hal reached out to Vorax and without waiting, his mimic friend jumped twice its height into Hal’s waiting arms. Using his reformed shadow and aberration Spliced limbs, Hal climbed his way back up to where he had left Ashera.

Ashera’s eyes lit up with wonder and curiosity when she saw Hal carrying the fine treasure chest in his arms. But when it opened its lid and a long spiked tongue rolled out like a panting dog’s, her scream of shock and surprise rang off the distant stones in the cavern.

Vorax, thinking that this was a fine time to make new friends, leaped from Hal’s arms and mimicked Ashera’s scream perfectly, while hopping and scooting across the floor to her.

It took Ashera several long minutes to calm down after that, and she still wouldn’t go near Vorax. Much to the mimic’s dismay. Hal had never seen nor heard the mimic… mimic somebody before.

It was uncanny.

Vorax scooted along beside Hal as they passed through the caverns, making progress in a generally upward direction. With his [Leaping Boots] it was much easier to keep pace with Ashera.

The mimic, it seemed, could adhere to anything and anyone it chose. Which made carrying it a non-issue whenever they approached an area too broken to traverse normally. Vorax would stick to his back, freeing Hal to hold Ashera in his arms.

A feat he never would have been able to accomplish when he first arrived on Aldim with a pitiful 1 STR. Now, he could hold the Sin Keeper without a hint of strain.

He hadn’t been able to claim that simple feat even back on Earth.

They entered into smaller chambers full of crumbling walls that were in the slow process of being worn down with thick trunk-like roots.

Using his instinctual sense from the Manaseed, he always chose the direction the roots were going whenever they came to a junction. So they had followed bridges and pathways of the things that spanned over empty black pits. Chasms filled with beautiful, glowing crystals, and crumbling ruins.

They even saw a few roaming monsters, some sleek black things that moved with preternatural grace, once or twice on a walkway too far away to be a threat.

The architecture looked familiar to the tunnels beneath the Coffin District, the ones filled with shadowy creatures and arcana dolls waiting to spring out at unsuspecting intruders. Only the constant presence of the roots threading in and out of the stone and the suspicious lack of opposition seemed out of place.

“We have to make camp soon,” Ashera said once they had gone for a while. Despite setting out in the morning, Hal felt the hours keenly in his stiff muscles and weary steps.

“I was about to suggest that,” Hal said. Since they hadn’t come across any other monster beside the happy hopping box mimic that followed them, Hal was excited to get some Levels.

They found a small side passage a short while later and found a pair of rooms off to the side. One was well on its way to caving in and the other, though small, seemed a perfect room to camp in.

Hal was about to offer one of his [Adventurer’s Kits] to Ashera, when she pulled out a lavish cooking pot suspended on a tripod, with a pile of glowing red orbs underneath. With a whispered word, the orbs ignited and brightened considerably with tongues of flames licking up their round glassy sides.

“You came prepared,” Hal said with a smirk. Vorax ambled about the room, sniffing at the rubble and bits of debris that had been left behind. Hal worried when Vorax would need to eat and what he was going to feed it now.

He had three pieces of unidentified gear from the Shoggoth, the [Bounding Boots] that had 7 Durability left, and not much else in the way of equipment that he thought Vorax would want to eat.

“Are you… sure about your new pet?” Ashera asked, taking out some food and adding it to the pot. The welcoming savory scent of stew began to fill the room, replacing the decades-old musty smell that pervaded the tunnels.

“He’s sweet,” Hal said, rooting through his inventory. “Vorax only eats treasure and equipment anyway.”

“Speaking of equipment, I found this on one of the shadow creatures. Perhaps you can use it?” Ashera handed him a [Length of Void Chain].

Hal took the chilled shadowy metal and wrapped it around his left wrist. The metal was cold but not uncomfortable. He smiled. “Thanks, Ashera.”

She shrugged. “I noticed you had a penchant for using the unconventional weapon and figured since you lost your old one, you might prefer a replacement.”

With a chuckle, Hal said, “I’m glad you didn’t give it to Vorax to eat.”

Ashera gave him a look. “That reminds me, what if your new friend becomes hungry when somebody is wearing a particularly juicy piece of armor?”

Hal shrugged. He didn’t think it likely but his interactions with Vorax so far were limited. And yet, he felt certain the mimic was trustworthy. There was something there that Hal trusted.

The smile Ashera gave him seemed odd. “Good. I was worried for a moment that perhaps you were not being objective and might have been enthralled. It is subtle magic and quite devious. But if the mimic had done so, you would have violently defended it.”

“Physically?” Hal asked, looking up from the [Unknown Codex] he held in his hand. He had been meaning to read it. Even if he couldn’t make heads or tails of the sigils, he might be able to learn something.

And gaining more Founder magic seemed like a good thing.

“Perhaps. There are various stages.”

“And you weren’t worried that I would attack you?”

“No.” This time, Ashera’s smile seemed a touch sinister. “I have not survived this long without knowing how to defend myself, Hal. I am not as weak as you might believe me to be.”

Hal immediately looked to her snowy white horns. They weren’t massive but he could envision her goring somebody with a brutally effective headbutt to the abdomen.

“Have you ever…” Hal began.

“Killed somebody with my horns?” Ashera finished for him, reaching a hand up to touch the smooth white horn. “A few times. They are not there for decoration.” Her fingertips trailed to the silver filigree toward the base where her white hair gathered around the horns. “But I do enjoy dressing them up. As most of my kind do.”

Hal was about to ask why but he stopped himself. It was a stupid question. Humans decorated their hair, nails, and everything in between. Why would it be odd that another race would decorate a unique part of their body?

There were probably cat people that shaved unique designs into their tails or painted them. It would only seem odd because he was a mundane human that lacked anything more.

They ate the delicious stew, the closest thing Hal had ever eaten to compare it to was gumbo.

You eat [Ashera’s Travel Stew].

+10% HP | +10% MP.

+5 STR.

Duration: 4hrs.

You gain the effect of Camping.

+225% HP Regeneration.

+225% SP Regeneration.

+225% MP Regeneration.

+100% Healing effects.

Duration: While Camping.

With the Camping buff active, it hardly took half an hour to recover his flagging SP. He made a mental note to camp more often in between fights if he could manage. And even said as much to Ashera.

“Oh, that would be a terrible idea,” she said calmly, spooning stew into her mouth. Once she finished the bite, she continued, “Monsters are attracted to campsites. Only through the use of special repellents - like the Rangers use - or having a large number of people might you temper their bloodlust.

“If we were to camp without finding a very defensible - and preferably out of the way location, like in this room - we would quickly find ourselves beset by all manner of beast. So while we could camp at every opportunity, we might be worse off for it.”

That gave Hal an idea.

He doubted he could put his idea to use with just the two of them. But in the future? It might prove valuable to go out with only one or two people in his party, camp in the middle of a forest and fight all the monsters that came calling.

It would be a lot more efficient than hunting for monsters. The downside was, he might attract too much attention. Or even the wrong monster family.

He took another bite of her stew, thanking Ashera for it and complimenting her cooking skills all at once. She blushed and demurred, as was her way but Hal could tell she was pleased he liked it.

While they ate, Hal pulled out the acid-eaten [Bounding Boots] and offered them to Vorax.

It felt wrong to eat while the mimic watched off to the side. Without the slightest hesitation, the mimic zoomed across the room and slurped up the suddenly floppy boots.

He hadn’t expected it to Level Up again but he was mildly disappointed all the same when golden sparks didn’t bounce from Vorax’s sturdy body. Hal reached out a hand and pet the curved top of the chest.

The wood felt smoother, almost polished now. So even if it hadn’t Leveled Up, it seemed a mimic was altered somehow with every item it ingested.

Hal was far from sure what Vorax was to him. A friend, yes, but a pet or a companion? He didn’t want to presume Vorax’s intelligence or his dependency. After all, it had existed for years without Hal.

As Elora would no doubt tell him, he didn’t need to go out adopting every monstrous creature he came across. That only made him want to do it even more. How much safer could a settlement be if it was also protected by friendly monsters?

They agreed - through much arguing on Hal’s part - that he would take the first watch that night.

While he sat and relaxed, Ashera crawled into her bedroll for a night’s rest. Hal cut his EXP surplus in half by getting 4 Levels in Beastborne.

If he wanted his baseline to be 10 stat points, he needed 20 points to spread between STR, DEX, AGI, and CHR. Of course, that put him at Level 9 Beastborne which annoyed his sensibilities.

It was a small annoyance, but he reminded himself that he had the EXP to use. So why not use it to have a more pleasing Level 10?

He did just that, placing the 5 points into MND. Looking over his Status, he was happy with his decision. This time, he focused just on the relevant changes. He didn’t need to see his affinities every time. Especially when he knew they hardly changed.

[Status]

Hal Williams

Level: 20

Discordant Stone: 6,616/55,000

Strain: 0/25

BP: 7/10

Classes

Novice: 10

Beastborne: 10

Resources

HP: 305/305

SP: 275/275

MP: 330/330

Attributes

STR: 10 (+5)

VIT: 20

DEX: 10 (+1)

AGI: 10 (+4)

INT: 22 (+1)

MND: 25

CHR: 10 (+3)

Regeneration

HP/hr: 46.9 (105.52 While Camping)

SP/hr: 48.1 (108.22 While Camping)

MP/hr: 71.6 (161.1 While Camping)

The difference of suddenly doubling most of his stats was night-and-day. His fingers were able to move with a grace they never possessed. His muscles strained against the fabric of his quilted armor.

Where the armor had fit perfectly before, now it was a little snug. Not uncomfortably so, he noted.

He also had a few notifications, most of them were the typical Level Up message, but upon hitting Level 10 Beastborne he got another perk point and a new trait.

It would seem that Classes gained perks every 5 Levels, while skills were every 10.

Beastborne reaches Level 10.

You learn the Arcana Killer trait.

Gives you an edge when fighting Arcana Family monsters, increasing damage dealt while decreasing damage taken. Adds a chance to Intimidate Arcana.

You have 1 Beastborne Perk point awaiting assignment.

Essence Tap 0/1

Increase Essence Gain by 25%. Increases chance of gaining Essence upon successful kill.

Essence Delve 0/1

Increase potency of Essence Powers and allow greater attunement when imbued with a specific Essence.

Deep Magic 1/3

Alters the Elemental and Monster properties of unassociated held weapons to include currently attuned Essence.

Lv1: Adds Elemental & Monster Properties to weaponry.

Lv2: Includes Weaponskills and Abilities.

Lv3: Includes Spells.

Monster Attunements Available

Aberration: 1

Goblin: 2

Hal selected the second Level of Deep Magic. Now that he had some solid downtime, he opened up his Monster Attunements and looked them over with a critical eye.

[Monster Attunements]

Aberration: 1

Amorphous Skin 0/1

Adapt the naturally amorphous nature of Aberration to suit your own needs. While using Amorphous Skin you have 25% resistance against blunt, force, and slashing damage.

Monstrous Resistance 0/1

Aberrations are remarkably adept at resisting magic, being creatures of undead corruption they possess the ability to shrug off some of the worst magic has to offer. While using Monstrous Resistance you have 15% Resistance to every element and its associated status effects.

Sturdy Hide 0/1

Unnatural life has given Aberrations the ability to take a hit and keep moving. Adapting their unique essence to your own will increase your HP by 15%.

Amphibious 0/1

The most iconic facet of an Aberration is their ability to adapt to any situation. While you utilize this Attunement you are able to breathe water as easily as air.

Goblin: 2

Kludge 0/3

Goblins are well known for their ability to make seemingly impossible things work. By attuning more deeply to their essence, you become able to bend the laws of reality slightly to make even the most ridiculous creation somehow work.

Lv.1: Crafted goods can be made with up to 25% non-standard parts and will function just as well as a properly made piece.

Lv.2: Crafted goods can be made with up to 50% non-standard parts and the resulting creation functions 10% better than its counterpart.

Lv.3: With enough Goblin-grit and blatant ignorance of physics, you too can create goblin architecture and mechanical feats of impossibility. Unlocks Goblin Synthesis.

Friends 0/1

Goblin-kin are among the friendliest of all monster races. While they may not take particularly well to humanoids, they are among the most sociable monsters. Attuning to Goblins on a deeper level will allow you to adopt that same level of affability that other monsters cannot resist. Goblinspeak optional.

With the quiet, almost peaceful camp, Hal found it easier to focus on the merits of each attunement.

The first thing that jumped out to him was the Amphibious trait. He never learned how to swim back home.

After a near-death incident where the on-duty lifeguard was more interested in picking up hot lonely moms than doing his job, Hal had never gone near water deeper than his knees.

It wouldn’t matter how poorly he swam if he could breathe underwater.

But the other three were so useful he couldn’t ignore them. As gross as Amorphous Skin sounded, having a flat quarter resistance to most types of damage was incredible.

While Sturdy Hide increased his HP by 15%, Amorphous Skin increased his effective HP by 25%. But only for physical damage.

He hadn’t encountered too much magical damage, yet the only attack that had actually killed him was magical.

The pain-soaked memory still gave him cold sweats when he thought about it.

Monstrous Resistance was pretty straightforward. While physical damage was painful, it was the magical damage that seemed to possess true power. The more damage and effects he could resist, the better in his opinion.

Thinking back to how he had resisted the Gibberer’s attack, it seemed resistances did more than provide a linear reduction in damage received.

He simply couldn’t risk taking Amorphous Skin, so he took Sturdy Hide instead. Ultimately, Monstrous Resistance had the same failings as Amorphous Skin. It only provided defense against a single type of damage.

Having a flat HP boost while Splicing aberration essence would make his recent VIT gains go even further. And would work no matter the damage type he received.

An invigorating rush of energy filled him, and Hal watched as his HP grew to 351 while still Splicing aberration and shadow.

He earmarked Monstrous Resistance for his next attunement, though.

As for goblin attunements… Hal had firsthand knowledge of how their ridiculous creations would work even when they really shouldn’t. The entirety of the goblin cave should have been impossible. He could have counted on one hand the number of nails he saw.

And yet, the whole thing still functioned surprisingly well. It held several hundreds of pounds worth of prisoners without falling in on itself.

Though he hadn’t gotten the chance to do any crafting yet, it was hard not to be interested in Goblin Synthesis. In either case, even if he went all-in on Kludge, he wouldn’t get access to Goblin Synthesis just yet.

So, he split the points between them, acquiring Friends and a single Level of Kludge.

By the time he was done, Hal still had enough time to peruse his [Unknown Codex]. It felt like worthless work since he still couldn’t discern any meanings from the sigils but he was committed to trying.

Every time they rested at a camp, Hal planned to take a couple of hours to study the book. Even if all he did was stare at the glittering sigils floating on the page.

Ashera woke up after some time and they switched places. Hal bedded down and as soon as his head hit the makeshift pillow, he was out.

The only reason Hal knew it was morning was because Ashera woke him up. They had more of [Ashera’s Travel Stew] and mostly ate in silence. Vorax had snuggled up to him in the bedroll and Hal kept one arm around the mimic as they ate, letting the monster have its beauty rest.

They broke camp shortly after, refreshed and ready to strike out again. Vorax scooted and hopped alongside them.

“You have changed a lot in a short time,” Ashera said once they had packed everything away and returned to the cramped, musty halls. “I know it’s… a delicate subject for many but I have never heard of your Class before. Could you tell me about it?”

“I don’t know much about it myself, but I’ll gladly share what I’ve learned so far.”

47

As Hal already knew, Ashera was an excellent listener. Even as Hal shared the aberration attunement he chose, she seemed unfazed by the gut-wrenching possibilities of those he didn’t.

“At least you picked something,” she said. “Whether or not it makes a physical change is irrelevant if you die looking handsome and young. Function over form, Hal.”

Hal tried to mumble some counter-argument but couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound lame and half-hearted. He knew she was right but the very thought of his skin turning into the dough consistency of that Gibberer grossed him out.

Out of danger and with the relative calm of walking down empty halls, broken only by the sound of their footsteps and Vorax’s scuffling, Hal was almost lulled into a false sense of security.

Hal kept Splicing shadow and aberration essence anyway. It appeared to cause no discernible strain on him and the benefits were manifold. Though for the most part, he stuck to walking on his own two feet.

The shadow-limbs were useful but they weren’t as fast, strong, or responsive as Hal’s physical body. So far he hadn’t seen anything that would increase that.

It was tempting to spend more EXP to see what more Beastborne had to offer. Already he felt many times stronger than he figured possible.

While he undoubtedly owed his surreal growth to his party and the Rangers for constantly protecting him, it felt good to be out from under the protective aegis of those so much more powerful than him.

He had no illusions that he’d walk back to Elora, Giel, and Mira on equal footing. But he wanted to be able to pitch in alongside them. He wanted to be useful.

He said as much to Ashera.

Her pale green eyes bored into his with a look of profound sadness. She bit her lip and looked away. “Oh, but Hal… you are useful. You have no idea how useful you truly are. Founders are rare. And those that we know of are corrupt and immoral, twisting their powers for selfish gain.” She raised a hand to her throat, still covered by her armor.

“You give people hope, and you will provide people with a safe place. A Sanctum from the Manastorms. A place of inclusion and community for all the people who have suffered all their lives under the oppressive regime of one Founder or another. A home.”

Hal took what she said and weathered it stoically. He did not refute her claims, though he had no idea whether they were true. It seemed Ashera didn’t understand.

They lapsed back into silence as they cautiously walked through the halls. At Hal’s insistence, they took any turn and pathway, no matter how tight the squeeze, so long as it followed the roots.

Eventually, after belly crawling beneath a pair of roots that had lifted up an ancient stone door, Hal found the words to express his frustration.

“Nobody goes into a world of magic and mayhem with the hopes of being a manager,” Hal said, dusting himself off and looking around the room. “They all want to be the sword-wielding hero. They want to come in and protect people with their own ingenuity and skill. Not be the person with a degree in civil engineering and their only desire or skill is to create the most efficient city.

“And yes,” Hal added, forestalling what he assumed was going to be a rebuttal. “I’m immensely grateful for all the help you’ve all given me. Without you, I would be dead. And without Elora, I would have been dead much sooner. I’m not ungrateful but you have to realize that I don’t want a sheltered existence. Even if it’s for my own good. What happens if you die because I’m not strong enough to help?”

It was Ashera’s turn to be quiet.

In the silent emptiness that flowed in, Vorax made a beeline toward the far end of the room.

The entire room smelled of faint vegetable rot. It was warmer than the others as well, with roots snaking back and forth all over the floor like a network engineer’s worst cabling nightmare.

Two of the three doors were broken or otherwise impassable with torso-thick roots choking the entryway and cracking the stone wall around it. Leaving the far door that the mimic was shuffling to with all speed as the only other possible exit.

“Nobody wants to see you hurt,” Ashera said. She reached out and gripped Hal’s wrist, tugging him to a halt in the middle of the room. “When you nearly died….” She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat and shook her head to deny the emotion that strangled her voice.

“I would have done anything to save you, Hal. Losing the Manaseed was worth it if you came back. I don’t care that Elora was angry about it. And it isn’t because you’re a Founder and are special. You’re a good person. You have no idea how rare that is.

“We can find another Manaseed. What Elora failed to understand is that we cannot find another Hal. She has never been very good with people. And after her father died….” Ashera shook her head. “Do not hold it against her. We have to stick together.”

Her hand dropped from his wrist. “I’ll do my best not to smother you with protection, though. It comes from a good place, Hal. I mean no disrespect. Already you are growing so much stronger and what you have told me about Beastborne… it nearly defies everything I was taught about the Classes.”

“How so?” Hal asked, continuing on through the gloom. “Wait, that’s weird. The Guild badges usually light up at least thirty feet….”

Ashera snapped out of whatever reply she had and looked around on alert. The area ahead of them was shrouded in darkness. Odd only because it wasn’t there a few moments ago.

Hal drew the [Goblinbane] and approached alongside Ashera. He sent his shadow-limbs probing the dark before him. The closer they moved to the far side of the room where Vorax had gone, the smaller their bubble of light became.

From out of the inky darkness they both saw purple glowing lines resolving into a complex, maze-like geometric pattern. At first, Hal thought it was an attack and nearly dived to the side but Ashera put a hand on his arm to still him.

“It is not dangerous,” she said in quiet tones. “I have seen this before.”

A few more steps brought them to the threshold of a door, every inch of the smooth black stone was carved with those glowing geometric lines. It was faintly reminiscent of the sigils in the codex.

Ashera put her hand onto the door, feeling the symbols. “The Founder had a door like this. Nobody was allowed inside. I do not think most people even got to see it.”

Vorax shuffled back and forth in front of the door, sensing something tasty on the other side. To him, the door was all that stood between the mimic and a mighty feast of delectable treasures.

Pointing at the mimic, Hal said, “He seems to think there’s a lot of treasure on the other side of the door.”

“Which probably means there is something guarding said treasure,” Ashera reasoned. She looked around. “Why is it dark around here? Founder Rinbast’s door did that too but I can’t fathom the reason.”

“Did you ever see him open it?” Hal asked, reaching his hand tentatively toward the glowing marks on the door. He thought to use the Rend sigil but something told him it wouldn’t do much good here.

“No, but sometimes I would see him walk into the gloom and not return. So he must have been able to open it somehow.”

Hal’s next thought was for the [Acid-Eaten Key] he had found on the Gibberer but with no discernible keyhole, he doubted it belonged.

Finally, and more out of frustration than anything, Hal banged on the door with his fist. He fully expected nothing to happen. Locked doors didn’t simply open on their own.

The geometric patterns began to move, twisting and dancing in a maddeningly complex rhythm that pulled Hal’s gaze ever inward until he thought he would go cross-eyed. His fist adhered to the door as if it were glued there.

The mark on his left arm pulsed with red-hot fire. Even though he wore his leather [Duelist’s Bracers], his golden mark shown through the leather. Just like when he used a Founder sigil. But this was different. Instead of glowing through the armor, the mark floated above it. Like a hologram.

Glowing purple lines on the door arranged themselves around his hand in a swirling arc. They stopped moving and the purple lines flashed green then winked out. His hand was released and the door simply… vanished.

48

Warily, Hal stepped into the room. The caustic fumes in the air burned his nostrils and made his eyes water. Through bleary, watery eyes, Hal tried to make sense of the strangeness before him.

Tall broken glass tubes lined the walls on either side of the stone room, looking far more modern than anything he’d seen on Aldim thus far. Half-formed, perfectly preserved bodies slumped in what remained of the congealing liquid inside the man-sized tubes.

Snaking over the smoothly polished stone floor were more roots. Each of the roots fed into the base of a glass tube. They didn’t run amok or grow where they weren’t wanted like the rest of the rooms.

Goosebumps pebbled Hal’s skin and he felt a keen desire to turn and run settle into his gut. The instinctual self he had awoken upon unlocking Beastborne came out of its previously sated rest and urged him to heed the advice.

This place is wrong.

The sensation of unnatural perversion settled upon him like a damp film of scum. It made him feel unclean to stay in the room and he quickly found three exits that led deeper within.

Ashera crouched over one of the bodies, looking at its barely recognizable face. It looked as if somebody had vaguely described humans to whoever created it.

The brow was too narrow, the chin too wide, and its eyes were so far apart that they were practically at the temples.

“This is… amazing,” Ashera said, her voice tinged with awe. If she felt any of the twisted perversion of all things natural that Hal felt, she didn’t show it.

Hal, concerned that it would come alive like so many horror movies, cautiously edged closer but something else caught his attention halfway there.

The room, for the most part, was open and rectangular with the walls littered with those disturbing tubes. He had thought the piles of black dust were the result of decades of settling and disuse, like much of the other tunnels. Only when Vorax saw the gleam of gold in one pile and began making a beeline for it did Hal realize he was wrong.

Taking a detour to the nearest pile, his long legs easily outpacing the mimic, Hal put away the [Goblinbane] and fell into a crouch to sort through it. His mark continued to glow, projecting a floating image of itself above his bracer.

That’s not good.

Vorax yielded to Hal’s claim on the gold and shuffled off to find something else of interest.

As soon as Hal had a good look at the strangely shaped gold, he understood what the piles were. The ashen remains of people. A faint tremor of disgust rippling through him, he dropped the gold tooth onto the floor.

He tried to wipe his hands on his acid-eaten clothes, but only managed to tear a new hole in his pants.

“Some kind of battle happened here,” Hal said, looking around and noticing where the piles of ash were in relation to the smashed tubes.

“How is that possible?” Ashera asked, straightening up and joining Hal. “Only a-” Her eyes locked on the golden Founder mark. “Your mark….”

No amount of covering his forearm stopped the projected image. His forearm felt hot beneath the bracer too, uncomfortably like he held his arm next to the glowing coals of a fire.

Ashera rolled her fingers through the mark, trying to grasp it, but it was immaterial. It didn’t shimmer or react at all. “That’s going to be quite a problem,” she pointed out.

“You think?” Hal asked with more bite than he intended. “Sorry. It’s just… this room has me on edge. I can deal with my mark later. Let’s try another room.”

“How will you be able to hide it?”

Hal pressed his forearm to his stomach, like when he had his arm in a sling after falling off his bike in 10th grade. The mark, forced against his torso vanished.

He assumed it was still projecting but since that space was occupied by his organs it didn’t show.

I hope this thing doesn’t let off radiation inside me, he thought with grim humor.

“The lie will be obvious if you ever need to defend yourself.”

They walked to the leftmost door, stepping over a few preserved bodies along the way. Hal dropped his arm, letting the symbol shine. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Unlike the door they had entered through, this door had no geometric markings. It was made of the same smooth, black polished stone as the rest of the room. It faintly threw back their blurred images and the light from their Guild badges.

But it was Hal’s mark that shone clear and true, reflected like the stone was a polished mirror. Okay, that’s odd. The door had a simple handle and when Hal tried it, the door pushed open smoothly and without issue.

The next room brought sweet relief to the caustic reek of the previous chamber. It was a complete opposite. Plantlife filled the room like a nature reserve.

If there was a ceiling, Hal couldn’t see it. Trees and various climbing plants stretched up into the gloom and vanished from sight. The walls were littered with crawling ivy of virulent purples and blues. Instead of a stone floor, they walked on soft earth.

Despite the change, Hal still felt that pervading sense of wrongness. The room only served to dampen it.

Hal turned and called Vorax back to him. The mimic was using his mimic-borne powers of vacuuming up valuables off in the corner. Hal was glad Vorax’s back was to him so he couldn’t see what Vorax was eating.

Alerted to Hal’s request, the mimic perked up and scuttled with all speed back to Hal’s side.

They walked along the path ahead. It snaked and twisted deeper into the room. “It’s not every day you find an indoor forest,” Hal said, twisting his gaze around to take in everything around him.

“To think that all of this was below Murkmire. And all the strange things we saw along the way!” Ashera shook her head in disbelief. “What could be the purpose of this place?”

The trails were punctuated every so often with a tall metal rod stuck into the earth with a glowing crystal affixed to its ten-foot-tall top. Not unlike a streetlamp, Hal noticed.

“My guess would be a private garden with rare ingredients,” Hal mused aloud. His voice was cut off by a distant growl from deeper within the woods. “Or a place to house some nasty pets,” he added, drawing free his [Goblinbane].

An act he soon regretted.

In the same instant that Hal pulled free the blade, a vine whipped out and snared his wrist. He had a half-second to realize his mistake before the vine yanked him into the darkness above the path.

Ashera’s shouting voice receded into the dark.

Hal flew through the trees, bumping into a few tall spindly trunks but for the most part, he zipped through the darkness. His shadow-limbs flew out in a vain attempt to slow him down but the vine was too strong.

Any grip they managed was soon torn away. The shadow-limbs simply were not strong enough.

Hal fought hard against the fear that welled up inside him. He hated heights and he could hardly think straight as the vine whipped him through the dark air. Higher and higher, deeper and deeper.

The vines had wrapped tightly around his right wrist, the one holding the [Goblinbane], making any attack against the vine too weak. He couldn’t get any force behind it.

But he had another trick up his sleeve. One that didn’t require a sword, or run the risk of blowing himself up with Bomb Toss.

Triggering Mana Investiture, Hal fed his mana into the vine. Since it was a living thing it instinctively fought against his intrusion.

Careful of the tree limbs that whipped and cut into his face, Hal poured his focus into the act of severing the vine. The moment he cut the vine, it snapped from the strain and he began to plummet.

His stomach dropped out and the scream he had tried so hard to hold back flew out as he hung in the air a heartbeat, still propelled forward by his previous momentum.

Hal swapped the [Goblinbane] to his left hand and tried in vain to reach out for the vague shadows of tree branches that whipped by him.

Another vine shot out, this one aimed at his left hand. An inch before it made contact, the vine bent at an awkward angle as if it hit an invisible field that just happened to be near his mark.

He was freefalling. With the darkness all around him, he could hardly tell which way was up. His worst nightmare made manifest.

All conscious thought and rational behavior flew from his mind.

With nothing to hold onto, Hal lashed out with all his shadow-limbs at once. He was pulled up into the air at least 50 feet and throughout it all, he hadn’t seen a ceiling or another wall.

Fearing the ground was fast-approaching, he awkwardly rammed the [Goblinbane] home into its sheath and groped out with his hands to the nearest trunk. Trying, desperately, to grab onto something. Anything.

Every branch snapped off in his hands. Tree limbs smacked his palms and numbed them with their bruising impact.

He crashed into the soft earth below, the air blasted out of his lungs but he managed to stay conscious. A solid 20% of his HP had fallen off from the bone-rattling impact.

Hal laid there a while, heedless of his vulnerability, feeling the comforting solid earth beneath him. He had survived. That height should have been fatal.

He doubted he could have survived the fall without his sharp increase to VIT. Looking back on it, he should be seriously wounded from the fall. It hurt, but he didn’t think anything was broken.

Rising to his feet, he was shaken and disoriented but whole. Hal gave a quick test of all his limbs, pleased to find that while sore they still worked. A growl echoed through the dark, closer this time.

<“Ashera, can you hear me?”> Hal asked, hoping against hope that the vine hadn’t pulled him too far.

<“Your… mimic is looking for you. I am following it, he seems to know where you went somehow. Stay put, okay?”> she replied.

<“There’s something nearby, watch yourselves.”> Hal warned.

< “The mimic can’t hear this, Hal.”>

<“Well… in case he can! Oh, and don’t pull out a weapon. I made that mistake.”>

<“Yes, we all saw.”>

<“‘We’?”>

<“Yes, Hal. Your mimic might not be able to hear our party link but he can - I assume - see you. He was following behind us. He saw it all. Looked absolutely embarrassed for you.”> she finished with a snicker.

Not bothering to reply to that, Hal pulled out the [Goblinbane] with his left hand, and rewrapped the void chain around his right wrist. Immediately a vine from somewhere up above whipped out and once more it was repelled by an unseen barrier around his arm.

At least you’re good for something other than esoteric magical symbols that I can’t make heads or tails of, he said to the mark.

The blade felt awkward and heavy in his left hand but as the growling sounded again, much closer this time, Hal readied himself for a fight.

He had no intention of backing down ever again.

The Guild badge’s light cast long stretching shadows between the trees, making it hard to distinguish shapes through the gloom and underbrush. He nearly missed the shifting of the wide-brimmed leaves off to his right.

Out came a pitch-black creature in the vague shape of a human. The growling came again but not from the creature that stalked toward Hal with malicious intent. Its legs and arms were thick and its entire body was covered in strange mottled skin.

Its appearance set Hal’s teeth on edge. His instincts told him to flee, that this was wrong but he pushed hard against it and stood his ground.

The creature stopped ten feet away from Hal.

Another one stepped out from the trees to his left, then his right. In seconds he was surrounded by 5 of the creatures. They formed a loose ring around him as more joined and stood guard.

Your Perception has risen to Level 12.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+24%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+60%).

You learn the Inspection trait.

By focusing on a monster, you are usually able to view its Level.

Watching them, they seemed vaguely orc-like. They were the right size, had pointed ears, but something was simply wrong with them.

It was the way they moved, he realized. Each of them moved like they were part of a larger whole. There was no speech. No looking and judging the distance of another. They simply knew where each other were without having to check.

Hal looked at one more closely, putting his new trait to work.

[Wortling | Lv.17]

Just a few Levels below me. That’s not too bad.

49

Hal raised the [Goblinbane] high in his left hand, letting the faintly glowing runes shine along its length. His Founder’s mark projected bright and clear. As one, each of the creatures turned in the direction of his upraised arm. Facing their blank, eyeless gaze upon the mark.

They hadn’t reacted like that before. None of them had so much as looked in any particular direction, they moved like puppets. It was unnerving.

Worse by far, was the incessant whispering he could hear but the words were just out of his ability to decipher.

The black-skinned creatures held a striking resemblance to the things in the glass tubes in the other room and Hal couldn’t help but wonder if these were where they had been set free.

Everything in this place felt twisted and wrong to him but there was one underlying thread throughout it all: the Founder.

It was the Founder’s mark that opened the door and it was the Founder’s mark now that seemed to draw the attention of the creatures.

Heat coursed through his veins and the whispering grew louder. He could make out words within the hushed voices.

Memories of sigils floated across his vision. While he hadn’t understood what they were or how to use them at the time, he did now.

Chains dangling off his wrist, Hal traced the sigils branded on his memories through the air. His fingers left trailing lines of light that hung in the air. Heeding the whispering words that filtered into his mind, Hal thrust his hand through the floating sigils, shattering them into sharp points of light.

His palm out, fingers crooked like he was ready to grasp, Hal felt the familiar surge of power spiral through his chest. It sang in his blood. As one, each of the fractured points of light rearranged into the angular sweeping sigils.

The mark shifted. It moved up his forearm until it rested just above the back of his palm. Golden lightning flew out in every direction, arcing around trees and through the tall grass. Each arc of golden lightning found its mark, striking each creature’s head.

The golden Founder symbol pulsed to life on their foreheads. Branding them.

In an instant, they were connected to him.

You learn Founder Sigil: Dominate.

By infusing your intent into the very weave of reality, you can now dominate creatures, shackling their will to your own.

The projected mark on his hand shimmered, the first time it reacted to anything since it began to take on its holographic form.

When it stilled a moment later, Hal felt his consciousness expand to include the 10 Wortlings surrounding him and 2 more that were lurking, hidden, in the trees.

There was another force. Angry and bewildered at what had happened. Something that controlled these creatures normally and had found itself beaten at its own game.

Hal could feel it beating on the edge of his concentration but found it surprisingly easy to ignore.

When Ashera burst out of the trees to his left, the sight before her must have clearly worried her. Without a thought for her own safety, she lunged forward at the nearest creature raising a hand above her head and conjuring a darkling orb of magic.

“No, wait!” Hal shouted, turning to her and putting his hands up in a warding gesture.

All 10 Wortlings raised their hands at the same time, in the same direction. Toward Ashera. The movement managed to block whatever Ashera had been trying to do and she was pushed off balance.

The wall of heavy creatures parted as Hal pushed through their ranks to help Ashera to her feet.

Vorax emerged from the underbrush a moment later, looking about curiously at the Wortlings. The mimic seemed to have an intimate sense of Hal and by extension, any threats to him, because the mimic scooted up to a Wortling without the slightest concern.

The mimic began knocking its lid against the Wortling’s ankle until Hal ordered the thing to pick it up. Through their sympathetic bond, Hal could feel Vorax’s appreciation and pleasure at having a personal servant.

“What is going on?” Ashera asked, eyes round and wide. “I thought they were going to kill you.”

“Me too,” Hal admitted. “But they stopped… it’s got something to do with the mark.”

Ashera looked at the creatures then back at Hal.

Heeding his mental commands, the Wortlings lined up in two rows of six. The two creatures lurking in the trees joined the end of their respective lines.

“That’s… eerie,” Ashera said. She stood by Hal’s side, watching the creatures stand there like wooden dolls. They didn’t sway or shift, or move at all like any living creature.

If not for the light of their Guild badges, Hal doubted he would have seen them at all. Though the mark they now bore on their foreheads made their dark, camouflage less effective.

Hal expected the furious Founder to appear any moment with the strength and power to bring down the entire mountain crashing atop their heads.

He realized that without intending, Hal had built up the Founder to mythical proportions without ever seeing his strength first-hand.

The constant barrage of off-handed hints by his companions at how powerful the Founders were, coupled with his own fears and nightmares made for a terrifying brew.

One that, if the Founders were at all smart, would be greatly magnified and filled with as many lies as truths. As effective as PR tactics are in the modern age, they would be infinitely more effective in an age such as Aldim’s.

Because, regardless of whether he thought the Founders might have inflated their own prowess, the end result was the same: He couldn’t know for sure.

That uncertainty kept him wary.

And yet, he couldn’t deny the thrill of it all. The mysteries that lurked behind every door tugged at him, despite the fear and oppressive nature of the place. The Shadow Crawlers came to mind and Hal wondered if he could use Dominate on them as well. He’d test it out as soon as he could.

Feeling quite safe with an honor guard of a dozen Wortlings, Hal put away the [Goblinbane] and set off once more with Ashera and Vorax. The silent, mottle-skinned creatures flanked them on either side.

* * *

The first creature they came across wandering the expansive wooded area was a strange plant that Hal sensed before it was even aware of their presence.

He had found that through the Wortlings his consciousness was expanded. Through them, he could sense the plantoid that lay in wait for wandering prey. Their heightened senses were his to command.

Dominate also allowed him to look at their stats and skills. They weren’t even truly alive, he discovered. They were plantoid puppets without the spark of consciousness or even some semblance of sentience.

They were, in all ways, husks. But he could think of a thousand uses for them that kept the gears in his head turning as they wove through the tall trees of this bizarre indoor forest.

The Wortlings were part of something more. A hivemind or some controlling influence, Hal wasn’t precisely sure.

Cut off from that intelligence, they would stand in place soaking up the mana in the air, sustaining themselves until called upon.

Examining them further displayed their basic stats and abilities.

[Wortling]

Lv.17

Resources

HP: 197

SP: 150

MP: 0

Resistances

Fire: -10

Water: 10

Lightning: 20

Earth: 30

Wind: 0

Ice: 0

Piercing: 50

Slashing: 0

Blunt: 0

Defensive Attributes

DEF: 15

MDEF: 0

Abilities

Ensnare

- Wortlings are capable of opening up their bodies to trap prey and creatures up to 3 times their size.

Root

- Send roots into the earth, recovering 10 HP per minute. If left rooted beyond their maximum HP, they will instead absorb temporary HP up to 4 times their maximum.

Mature

- Wortlings can evolve into more dangerous foes by Maturing. Maturation takes a minimum of 15 minutes, and up to a month. Wortlings grow in power, size, and capability as they mature, culminating in a full-grown Worttree if left undisturbed for a month.

Traits

Tiring Strikes

- A Wortling delivers its poison with each successful strike. A potent sleeping toxin courses through their opponent's veins, rendering them deeply fatigued until they lose consciousness.

Swarming

- Wortlings are capable of swarming with incredible efficiency, moving through and within each other’s space without hindrance.

Plantmind

- All Wortlings and their Worttree parent are capable of maintaining constant communication within 15 miles. If one is aware of a particular danger, all are made aware.

Woodsense

- Wortlings are automatically capable of sensing anything that resides within 60 feet of itself, so long as they both are in contact with vegetation.

Hal spent a lot of time pondering over those skills. It painted a very clear picture of a creature that was used to bring back living prey. Everything about it was tailor-made to the end of subduing and retrieving.

He didn’t want them attacking him, and in fact, he sent them a little farther away. Just in case.

Using their Woodsense Hal could feel the presence of the plantoid creature off to his left about 40 feet away. The distance was a little fuzzy but he knew precisely which direction it was in and he could point to it with unerring accuracy.

Thinking it would be a good time to see what the Wortlings were capable of, Hal sent four of them toward it.

Using monsters to fight monsters seems a little cheap, he thought with a faint smile.

They moved in disturbing unison.

To Hal, it felt like playing a summoner or a beastmaster in various games. He had full control over the creature and could command it as simply as he moved his own legs and arms.

Easier even, because it required no effort on his part beyond a thought.

Getting used to the Woodsense was the biggest hurdle. There was a general awareness of everything but there were no visual indicators. Like “talking” to Vorax, it was a new experience that required some acclimatization.

After a few false starts where a Wortling or two bumped into one of the tree trunks, Hal finally got the hang of it.

The four split off and surrounded the creature that had been alerted to their presence from their bumbling maneuvers. Instead of calling them off, Hal pressed the attack.

The creature was a Belladonna. Information he gleaned through his connection to the Wortlings. The monster wasted no time in striking out with its long whip-like vines.

One of the Wortlings was snared in those vines but the others rushed in from each remaining cardinal direction.

The Belladonna was hard-pressed to keep up with four creatures. It managed to tie up the second Wortling and made a feeble attempt at the third but it was at its limit.

Overwhelmed, the Belladonna had little resistance against the bite of Wortling’s black claws. Through his connection, Hal could feel the poisonous sleep toxin working its magic on the creature.

Though the Wortlings were not strong on their own, even in small numbers they were effective hunters. Each strike slowed and drowsed their prey, making it progressively easier to land further strikes and eventually subdue the creature.

Less than a minute after sending them after the creature, the Belladonna lay limp on the ground. Its vines loose enough that the Wortlings could slip free of their hold.

The urge was almost automatic to command the Wortlings to use Ensnare and bring back the creature. It was like something of their original master had leaked into his mind. Hal resisted the urge. The Belladonna was not dead, merely unconscious. And he had no intention of bringing it back alive.

50

Hal felt a tiny glimmer of guilt as he commanded the Wortlings to kill the defenseless creature. He knew that the Belladonna was not without its own toxins but the Wortlings were hearty creatures. They barely seemed affected by the poisonous defenses the Belladonna possessed.

Even still, it felt a little wrong.

Any misgivings he had were instantly wiped away, however, when he saw the familiar prompt.

Your [Wortling | Lv.17] defeats the [Belladonna].

You absorb 15 Planttrap Essence.

You gain 225 Experience Points.

You earn 22 Sparks.

You obtain:

- [Vial of Belladonna Sap]

- 5 [Lengths of Supple Vine]

“That’s rare,” said Ashera to his right. She must have seen the same prompt as him.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Hal began, “Are you able to see all the prompts I do, or is it separate?”

“It depends. There are a lot of variables at work, several skills provide greater insight but as a whole? No. I do not see your prompts. If you mean things like loot drops though? We each get our own loot pool so to speak. Why, did you get some sap too?”

Hal nodded.

“Even better,” Ashera grinned and reached into her pouch. She pulled free a small vial filled with swirling silvery fluid. Barely a thimble-full. “Belladonna Sap is very rare. It’s an expensive alchemical reagent used in a lot of high-end recipes. I happen to be decently skilled in Alchemy. I could show you some things, once we make camp again.”

There was always a new threat, a new danger, or a new crisis to have to deal with. Even though Hal knew things were tense and they were in dangerous territory, he felt strangely hopeful.

The thought of camping with Ashera, Vorax by his side, and the Wortlings forming a solid perimeter made him feel, perhaps foolishly, safe. They had spent the better part of the day wandering dusty barren tunnels. And at Hal’s insistence, they pressed on further into the strange nature reserve.

They didn’t even stop for lunch, something Hal’s stomach complained constantly about. They would need to rest soon, but with Ashera’s warning about camping fresh in his mind, Hal wanted to find the right spot first.

“I would like that, very much,” Hal said. He looked around at the dark space around them. This was no place to make a camp. The black bark of the trees made everything feel cramped despite the ten to twenty feet between each towering tree.

The nearest limbs were thirty or more feet up into the air and the ground was more often loamy and springy rather than grassy or knotted with roots. It made traversal easy. As if that was the intended design all along.

This whole place was like a nature reserve. The trees were a little too evenly spaced. There was underbrush but only in some places as if it were a recent thing. And Hal guessed that even the best-kept gardens sprouted weeds every so often.

Through the Wortlings, he could sense that the forest was widely varied. Though he lacked the requisite knowledge to understand a great deal of what he felt through the connection to the plant creatures, he understood basic things like clearings, rocky terrain, and the like.

It all felt staged. Planned.

Specific areas for this environment butted up against a buffer zone of basic forest. Hal sent the Wortlings out in a wide arc around them and soon found at least four distinct biomes at each cardinal direction.

To the north, the forest gave way to a rolling reek of bogs and swampland. To the south, the trees thinned and the ground became rocky, almost devoid of any vegetation.

Westward held a great abundance of running water, though the additional sensations through the Wortling were beyond what Hal was capable of translating. All he could discern was the water, but not the type or what it was like beyond that.

He felt something more but had no reference for the sensation. The closest his mind could grasp was a strangeness to the plant life there. Something unnatural but not altogether threatening.

There were also several blank spots in that direction as well. Areas the Wortling could not sense, like an impenetrable wall of darkness.

To their east, the trees were replaced by towering mushrooms. Fungus sprouted wherever it could find a hold and there was a great deal of activity. Creatures roamed the area constantly. Far more than any of the other regions.

Most interested in the rocky region to the south, Hal sent that Wortling deeper into the region. Within a few seconds, Hal was blinded to anything and everything from that Wortling. For a moment he scrambled, worrying that the connection was severed.

But that wasn’t it. The Wortling could sense nothing.

With a mental nudge, the Wortling retraced its steps. A few feet later, the creature’s senses returned. Hal was sure then that they weren’t out of range. If it had, he never would have been able to order it to return.

He doubted he had the same range as its original master and in either case, the creatures did not move fast enough to go that far so quickly.

Recalling all four, Hal pondered the mystery. The Wortling that had gone south had effectively stepped into a great blind spot. It could sense nothing but darkness ahead and when Hal had instructed it to continue it was enveloped by that same nothingness.

Recalling how Woodsense was worded, Hal reasoned that the rocky ground must have grown completely devoid of any plant matter. As Woodsense required vegetation within 60 feet, it stood to reason if there was no vegetation in that direction that the Wortling would be unable to see anything.

It could move but it was effectively blind, removing the possibility of avoiding a sheer cliff or sudden drop. Which meant Hal was blind if he ever intended on using the creatures to scout in that direction.

“We should camp soon,” Ashera mentioned, a few hours later. She idly moved her fingers around in the air. Hal recognized the motion as something he did when he was inspecting his inventory.

“We’re pushing late into the evening by now,” she continued, “and we have not found any leads on how to rejoin the greater whole of our party. Once exhaustion sets in, our regeneration effectively halts.

“And my stock of potions is dangerously low. Even a few scattered fights will be dangerous for us. We have been lucky so far to avoid any major fights but each hour tests our luck further, and I would prefer to minimize our risk. I cannot continue to rely on you to exhaust your HP to heal me.”

“All right,” Hal conceded. He was starting to get tired, only the new threat of danger all around kept him alert. “We’ll need a defensible place to make camp then. The woods are too exposed, even with the Wortlings – and I don’t know how long they’ll remain faithful – camping in a clearing would still be fairly dangerous.”

Even now as they stood in the middle of the dark forest, eight of his Wortlings flanking the group, he could feel the various creatures roaming out in the dark around them.

Hal struggled to decode the strange sensations of the Wortlings at times. He was unsure if the creature moving on a tree limb above them was a threat or something as simple as this world’s equivalent to a squirrel.

The constant awareness was draining.

Of the four areas, the west seemed most welcoming. He wanted nothing to do with swampy bogs, and the highly active mushroom region was ill-suited for a campsite.

And with his Wortlings being effectively blind to the south, he had no intention of venturing where his one advantage was taken away.

But running water sounded good to him. “There is water to the west, maybe we can find a place to camp over there?” Hal asked Ashera.

“I have been wanting to ask, how do you know that?” Ashera asked with open curiosity. The lack of suspicion made him feel he had been right to trust Ashera. She did not immediately cast doubt on what many would consider strange powers.

It was easy to forget that other people lacked the vital bit of information that Hal possessed. He was so used to it being the other way around that it still came as a surprise and a shock to him.

“When I Dominated the Wortlings-”

“Another Founder power?” Ashera cut in, an excited gleam to her normally somber pale green eyes.

Hal nodded. “When I did that, I gained access to all of their abilities. They’re little more than puppets. I can communicate with them over a fairly long distance, though I haven’t tested just how long.”

And he wasn’t interested in the very real risk of losing control of one. The ever-present threat that the Worttree – whatever horrific monstrosity that was – would reclaim its minion and then immediately retrace its steps to hunt Hal down was never far from his mind.

It’s what he would do.

“I sent them out to scout for us,” Hal continued. He noticed Ashera paying very close attention to him. “They can sort of ‘see’ if there’s plant life around them. It’s hard to explain. But of all the areas they searched, only the west seems viable for a camp. The running water should provide us with some natural defense while we rest for the night.”

51

“To an outside observer like myself,” Ashera said, “you seemed to be standing or walking very woodenly without any awareness of your surroundings. It was very… alarming.

“I worried something was wrong. Like you were going catatonic, but then I realized you were likely preoccupied. Perhaps with your stats or some other management that you chose to do in the middle of the forest. But your explanation makes worlds more sense.”

Ashera cast a rare, critical eye over Hal. “I do not mean to nitpick but you truly have poor Level Up etiquette.”

He didn’t know how to respond to any of that.

Though he could imagine that he would seem distant, he never expected that he would look so wooden while issuing commands to the Wortlings.

I guess my attention was fully focused on them and what they had discovered. Hal shook his head and brought himself back to the present. “What do you mean, ‘poor Level Up etiquette’?”

“Typically you do all your Leveling Up at the end of the day. Or, if you are especially tired, in the morning.” Ashera tapped a finger to her chin in thought. “Doing it in the middle of a field or when out with your friends is considered rude. Though, in your case, an exception can easily be made.”

“Because I’m new to all of this?”

“No,” she answered with a reassuring smile. “Because you are getting a great deal more Level Ups than most people would. And yes, partly because you are foreign to our world. Which is why I wanted to let you know, as a friend.

“Others may not be so understanding. Considering so many people will not know you are a Founder. An attribute I imagine you will wish to stay hidden for some time yet.” She looked to Hal as she spoke, and he nodded.

He definitely did not want any more people to find out. Not yet.

It was beyond lucky in his opinion that neither Mira nor Giel had tried to kill him on the spot. That they didn’t only deepened his trust in them. At any point, they could have opened a gap in their defenses while they were fighting in the street or in the tunnels, and Hal would have been easy to dispatch “accidentally.”

“I appreciate the advice,” he said sincerely as they threaded their way through the trees. “Is it abnormal to Level Up as much as I have?”

Ashera rounded a large tree to his right and appeared on the other side, her eyes wide. “Extremely. When I found you, you were the equivalent of a child. I mean no disrespect but a five-year-old likely could have beaten you upon your arrival. It is generally considered that teenagers are well into Level 5 and some beyond.

“Only those unlucky enough to be under the Founder’s thumb with no Letter of Vocation to their name - which allows them to pursue a Class - are still Novices by the time they reach adulthood. You have gained an incredible amount of Experience Points since I first laid eyes on you back in that prison.

“Since you saved me from a life of servitude and dark deeds,” Ashera corrected herself, dropping her gaze to the soft earth of the forest floor. Though whether in respect or how raw the memory still was, Hal wasn’t sure.

“We saved each other,” Hal said, trying to bolster her spirit. And, because he couldn’t resist he asked, “Was I really that weak?”

“Oh yes,” she said, lifting her eyes to meet his. She stared a long time into his brown eyes. It was one of the few times she didn’t immediately look away. Hal had the distinct impression she was peering into his soul. Looking at something he couldn’t even guess at.

Then she snapped out of it and averted her gaze once more. “We were all deeply impressed that you managed to survive so long. Being out in the wilds as you were – and among the Broken no less – should have spelled your immediate death.”

There was that name again.

He had never remembered to ask Elora about the “Broken” before. The people he had met were largely unfriendly and that first man had outrightly mugged him. Though, looking back he now understood the superhuman strength the man possessed was more accurately, Hal’s profound weakness.

If he truly had the physical stats of a child - or less even - even the most basic person on Aldim would seem superhuman to him. And they had.

“What are the Broken, exactly?”

“Oh, yes.” Ashera pressed her palms together. “You would not know. Of course.” It sounded like she had to remind herself. Which, Hal guessed, she probably needed to.

He couldn’t imagine all the minor cultural things that he would assume another person knew if they randomly appeared in Seattle.

“The Broken,” Ashera began, “are those that live to the east of Sanctum Fallwreath. They live in the wilds between the lands of the Fallmark – where Founder Rinbast rules – and the Direlands – where Founder Tristal rules.

“The Broken are those who tried to side with both Founders in secret and once found out were abandoned and left to fend for themselves. It is a lawless place. There is no protection from either Founder and instead, they use it as a buffer between their lands.”

Like a DMZ, Hal thought. Smart. As cruel as it seems it probably prevents all-out war. Considering his initial encounter with the Broken, Hal found himself fresh out of any sympathy for the people.

“How do they survive? If both Founders reject them, how do they get goods and materials? How are they protected against the Manastorms?” Hal asked, suddenly curious in the place.

“Nobody knows,” Ashera said. She ran her hand along the bark of a passing tree. “It is a land of rogues, killers, and shady merchants. I am sure there are hidden channels for contraband that manage to slip through the borders.

“Most of the Broken are there willingly, seeking to hide outside the realms of justice. I doubt the murderous people would bat an eye at smuggling.”

Ashera clearly noted Hal’s raised brow. Her eyes sparkled dangerously. “For all the terrible things they do, the Founders do enforce the law. It is better than the way the Broken live, but only just. At least under the Founder, you know who your enemy is.”

Hal wasn’t sure he agreed but Ashera made a compelling argument. “I guess it’s ‘better the devil you know’?”

“I have never heard the saying,” Ashera said. She was quiet a moment as she turned it over in her head. “But I like it. Yes, I would say it is very much like that. Better to know your enemy than to be surrounded by countless cutthroats and thieves, any one of which may decide they want what you have.”

Your Persuasion has risen to Level 4.

+1% Persuasion success (+4%).

+0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (+2.0%).

“Did I just… convince you to like that saying?” Hal asked.

“Yes, why? It is a good saying.”

Hal shook his head and smiled.

They continued to the north around a particularly dense cluster of trees that they would have had to squeeze through. It was a minor detour and Hal didn’t like the look of them. The Wortlings’ Woodsense didn’t alert him to any danger but he had begun to learn that he would do well to trust his own instincts.

Your Perception has risen to Level 13.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+26%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+75%).

With a gesture, though he could have easily done it with a mental thought as well, Hal brought up his skills window.

[Skills]

Survival

Stealth: 6

Darkvision: 3

Survival: 0

Perception: 13

Investigation: 7

Manatree: 0

Combat

Improvised: 4

Sword: 6

Parry: 2

Magic

Enfeebling: 6

Beast Magic: 6

Social

Leadership: 11

Persuasion: 4

Even though he had spent a good deal of time with the Rangers, his Survival was incredibly low. It was the only skill he had that was still at Level 0. Not counting Manatree, considering he recently unlocked it.

And he had no idea how to be a Manatree. He had no Manatree powers that he could use to increase it. The only thing he could do was continue to listen to the little voice he thought was the Manaseed’s imparted intuition.

Hal supposed his low Survival made some sense, given his past relationship with camping. He never camped without an RV. And that, he understood clearly even as a child, was not camping.

But he wished he could have an RV now. Complete with a/c, a generator for all his devices, and even if they couldn’t get a signal, plenty of stored movies, DVDs, or Blu-rays if he absolutely had to go without a computer.

Foolish daydreaming aside, Hal turned toward the west and immediately pulled up short. Ashera, who had been walking close by, nearly bumped into him. Vorax scuttled up from behind and, apparently oblivious, ran right into Hal’s calf.

“Ow! Hey, watch out, Vorax.”

The confused imagery the mimic sent back reminded Hal that Vorax didn’t understand what he said, aside from his name. Vorax perked up when he heard his name.

He liked his name very much. And he liked Hal saying his name even more.

Instead of a knee-jerk reaction, Hal sent a friendly inquiry to the creature. He wanted to know if it was hungry.

Vorax’s response was the same imagery that Hal had used when he explained to Vorax what his name meant. An insatiable black hole surrounded by a velvety purple lining.

Hal took that to mean it was always hungry but the lack of urgency to the mimic’s communication told him that it likely didn’t need to eat. Hal needed to find a way to differentiate between the two but resolved to leave that as a problem for future Hal.

He had enough problems to deal with at the moment.

“What is it?” Ashera asked.

Hal pointed. “This is west.”

Ashera gave him a curious look. “I am sorry. I do not follow.”

“A few weeks ago I couldn’t tell you west from east, even if I was using a compass,” Hal explained. “Now I suddenly know where each cardinal direction is like it’s tattooed on my brain.”

The Sin Keeper was silent a moment before she said, “It is a common trait in animals to understand the basic directions of the world. Perhaps, as you delve deeper into this beasthood of yours, you will gain small powers such as this?”

It still bothered Hal, but he had to admit he couldn’t find much of a flaw in Ashera’s logic. As they continued westward, with three Wortlings moving ahead of them – the one that had gone east to the mushrooms was still catching up to their rear – Hal wondered what other changes he might undergo.

* * *

Ashera helped Hal get a basic campsite set up. At Hal’s insistence, she directed rather than did any of the work herself. Under her tutelage, he got the campfire going, prepared the grounds, unfurled their bedrolls, and set up a basic cookpot on the fire once it got started in earnest.

Your Survival has risen to Level 1.

+5% Camping regeneration (205%).

+5% Flora & Fauna identification. (+5%).

+1% Well Rested bonus (+1%).

You have unlocked the Well Rested trait.

For most people, sleeping on the cold hard ground is uncomfortable. The ever-present threat of monsters keeps most people awake at night. But there is a peace to the wilderness, a natural order of things that you have managed to understand. While others toss and turn, you are able to find a deeper sleep.

Increased EXP and Skill EXP.

Increased HP, SP, and MP.

Increased HP, SP, and MP Regeneration.

Duration: Equal to time slept.

Hal’s head shot up at the notification. “Wait, I get a bonus for sleeping?” Hal asked in a strangled voice.

Ashera giggled. “I take it you just now Leveled your Survival?”

Sitting down beside the curling flames of the campfire, Hal nodded.

“A lot of people think that you need a safe, warm bed, and other nonsense to get a good night’s rest,” Ashera said, setting out ingredients for the night’s stew.

“The truth is,” she said, wagging a leek at him. “It is highly dependent upon your Survival Skill. Now that you have, I presume, unlocked the trait it will be with you forever. The bonus starts out small but it grows over time.

“Now if you rest in an inn or somewhere even more comfortable, you will gain the Well Rested Buff. Something many people go their whole lives and never get. You will find that the quality of your bedding and the relative safety of your sleeping quarters increases the bonus.”

“I guess I should be grateful you let me fumble about for an hour setting up our camp,” Hal said sheepishly.

Ashera waved away the thought. “It is my pleasure to watch you grow,” she said fondly, a small smile curving her lips. Her snow-white horns caught the light of the campfire and glowed a little as she bent her head to her preparations. “I have almost forgotten what that feels like.”

“What do you mean?”

“Watching somebody explore the world. The joy of discovery clearly stamped upon their features. That wide-eyed wonder about the new and unknown… it is invigorating being in your company. I thought I would never feel hopeful for another day again.

“And yet….” She motioned to the dark woods around them and the swift-flowing rivers that joined nearby. “Here I am, separated from the rest of the group, and still excited to see the next day. It is a feeling I never expected to have again. One I have you to thank for giving it back to me.”

She raised a hand to hold off Hal’s reply. “I do not mean when you saved my life from slavery. Of course, that will always be a debt I cannot repay. But I would be glad to live the rest of my life trying to do just that. No, I mean something more. More than my life, Hal, you have given me back my will to live.”

Your Leadership has risen to Level 12.

+1% Party damage (+12%).

+2% Leadership efficacy (+24%).

Hal didn’t know what to say to that. When a few moments passed and Ashera touched his shoulder lightly, he looked up to her smiling face. All he could do was smile in return.

Using the Wortlings, they had found a fork in a rushing river that provided ample borders on three sides. There they camped, at the narrowest portion of the V between the rivers. His Wortlings stood guard at the mouth of their campsite and two behind where the river split around their small section of land – just in case – while Ashera readied her stew.

It would have involved a good deal of backtracking as the rivers were practically impassable. As much as Hal trusted to his shadow-limbs before, after the humbling experience of being dragged through the air and then left to fall, he wasn’t about to risk being swept up in the frothing water.

The Wortlings didn’t have the same trouble, though, so he used them to ferry them across. By alternatively triggering Root, one leg at a time, they were able to anchor themselves to the river bed and cross.

Albeit slowly.

It was still faster than following along a rushing river to find a suitable crossing point.

I could get used to having these Wortlings around, Hal mused. It was a sentiment he felt reflected in Vorax. The little mimic enjoyed the company of other non-aggressive monsters.

It seemed to find a unique sense of enjoyment seeing Hal control them.

For quite some time while Ashera busied herself with the stew, Hal turned to the Wortlings trying to see what was around them through their Woodsense.

The rivers, unfortunately, were blankets of shadow but they could see beyond them. Which meant that they didn’t need a continuous line of vegetation, but merely any other vegetation within 60 feet.

Hal didn’t have any idea how long his Dominate would last and he wasn’t particularly interested in finding out. The System, for all its explanations, seemed particularly cagey about Founder Sigils.

So, as a precaution, Hal wove his fingers through the air again recasting Dominate. He noticed, with more than a little curiosity, that his mark once more slid to the back of his left hand as he cast.

Golden lightning arced out, startling Ashera who looked up from the stew to watch with a look of wide-eyed wonder she so loved to see on Hal. Watching her impression of his Founder magic at work, he had to agree with her sentiments. It was soothing to watch, it uplifted his spirit.

He felt the sigil take hold again, just as a wave of exhaustion hit him so hard he nearly passed out. Ashera was at his side in a second, a strong arm looped around him.

She gently set him to the ground, a worried look replacing her previous sense of wonder. “Hal, what’s wrong?”

But all Hal could do was stare at the notification.

Your Founder Sigil: Dominate has risen to Tier II.

Duration increased to 24hrs.

Lowered Experience Point cost.

Total Dominated targets increased to 25.

Hal’s heart nearly stopped at the second line.

Hold up. What did that just say?

52

A quick look at his Discordant Stone confirmed the prompt’s harrowing words as Hal explained what just happened to Ashera. The amount of EXP he expected to find was definitely less than the last time he looked. And that was after he killed the Belladonna.

He had been steadily gaining EXP since he had entered the Coffin District, so he couldn’t be sure but he had a sinking feeling that all Founder Sigils used EXP as their resource cost.

He felt a little sick just thinking about it.

Hal focused back on the task at hand, all the while he kept a keen eye on his Discordant Stone. The first – and most important – thing he wanted to know, was whether it was a constant drain of EXP or a single-use.

After staring at his EXP for the next several minutes, he saw no change. But instead of having over 6,000 EXP, he had a scant 1,720.

Casting Dominate twice had taken a serious chunk of his EXP.

Once he thought about it rationally though, even a couple thousand EXP was a good exchange for the sharp boost in power he received by dominating a dozen Wortlings.

He now had a veritable squadron at his beck and call.

Four of his Wortlings had made relatively short work of the poisonous Belladonna. With the majority of them moving in unison, he imagined it would be very doable to recoup and even have a net gain of EXP while using Dominate.

Rend was another story.

If that also cost EXP, as he suspected, then it became all the more costly to use. He needed to know, however, and resolved to test out Rend once he encountered an enemy.

Just once, though.

It would answer a lot of questions in one fell swoop. One of the most important, besides the question of its resource cost, was whether he could use it on another living creature. And if so, what would it do?

The description of the Sigil made it seem like it worked at the most magically fundamental level. He had no idea what the Weave was but he could guess based on the context clues easily enough.

Working the rough math backward in his head, Hal discovered that each use of Dominate cost somewhere around 2,500 EXP. And now it would cost less, though he wasn’t about to test how much.

That meant that each Wortling cost a little over 200 EXP each. For every Wortling he Dominated he would need to send them out to overwhelm and kill another monster to make up for the cost.

Seeing how quickly they took down their first monster, Hal was fairly confident in his ability to recover his lost EXP. And, barring that - they were looking for a way to find their friends still, not merely wandering about killing monsters for fun - he could likely keep up the cost of their upkeep by sending them out on forays.

Bending his mental focus back to the Wortlings’ Woodsense, he felt a dim awareness of water but to the Wortlings, it had the same shadowy, unknown appearance as a sudden cliff would have.

Hal moved the creatures about, probing at the theory by using their Woodsense and gauging their proximity to the water with his own eyes in the light of the Guild’s badge pinned to his breast.

Even though there was clearly vegetation of some kind in the water around him, the Wortlings could not sense it.

Maybe the water acts as a barrier.

Additionally, if Hal hopped on top of a rock, they could no longer sense him. It seemed obvious considering the way their Woodsense worked but it was still a glaring weakness.

Discovering their weaknesses was important. Both to fight with them more effectively and because he had, technically, stolen the Wortlings from another master.

He fully understood there was another creature in this place – perhaps several – that was deeply interested in reclaiming its stolen property.

When the time came that Hal had to fight these things, he needed to understand them inside and out. He could always resolve to simply kill the things or order them to do it to each other. But that felt unnecessarily wasteful.

Not to mention cruel.

They had no mind. No awareness of pain as far as he knew but it felt wrong to order them to kill each other. Just as it felt wrong to do the deed himself. While they were under his control, he felt as if they were also under his protection.

To kill them would pervert the very command he had over them.

There was nothing that said he couldn’t simply reassert his control over them by casting Dominate again. The only way he could see himself losing control of them was if their master came calling, or he somehow was unable to use Dominate again within a day’s time.

So while Ashera cooked dinner, Hal probed the weaknesses of the Wortlings and tested his theories. As he delved into the inner-workings of Woodsense Hal realized that it wasn’t like any other sense.

It did not constantly seem able to perceive the world around them like vision or hearing. It was closer to a ping every second. The farther out any particular entity was from the creature, the longer the delay.

To Hal, it was closer to echolocation. The Wortlings relied upon whatever signal they received from the vegetation around them. It wasn’t nearly as omniscient as he had first thought it to be.

He set four Wortlings to rush at him. It felt strange, like playing chess by yourself. Eventually, Hal got into it and the awareness that he was essentially fighting himself fell away.

Using the weakness inherent in the Woodsense, Hal frequently changed position in quick bursts. The Wortlings, however, were more than up for the challenge and they tagged him with a heavy mitt more often than not.

Obviously without the use of their sleep toxin. An effect, he was happy to learn, he could turn off with a command.

Though Hal assumed it was due in part to his sluggish, tired muscles, he switched up his strategy. He sent two Wortlings after himself again with orders to tag him with a heavy swat when they got close enough.

As soon as he saw them heading for him, he reversed direction. The results were eye-opening.

Fully expecting to be smacked to the floor with two heavy swats, Hal slipped between two of the Wortlings that he had reversed into. They turned around and chased him a moment later and did indeed knock him to the ground like an overzealous game of tag.

But when Hal got to his feet, he tried it again. And again.

With his increased AGI, DEX, and VIT, he actually stood a chance at evading them. Even better, when they did hit him, it didn’t cause any permanent damage.

He would have more than a few bruises to show for his trouble, but once he saw the new notification he figured it was well worth the effort.

You have unlocked Evasion (Level 0).

The best defense is the one where you never get hit in the first place. The art of Evasion takes precise timing and quick reflexes to keep ahead of an opponent’s constant barrage of attacks.

Hal found was that the Wortlings weren’t able to update his position fast enough. Not when he was so close to them. If he constantly moved in opposing directions up close, they had a difficult time hitting him.

Even as Hal upped the number of Wortlings to six, he still managed the upper hand more often than not. And when a giant black mitt came down, it was a glancing blow that he could easily roll with.

Their chief weakness was their inability to accurately predict where a target was going to be in between pulses of their Woodsense. If Hal was close enough and switched direction fast enough, the Wortlings failed to reconcile the change in time to react.

While Woodsense seemed to work faster the closer a target was, it was still had a blind spot within a small window. A window Hal - and any opponent smart or fast enough - could exploit if they moved fast enough in the opposite direction. The Wortlings would swing wide thinking their opponent was still coming at them only to hit empty air and leave themselves open to attack.

Even more interesting was the way they were able to sync up as one unit. The flaw, Hal found, was also related to Woodsense. Because the nearest Wortling had the fastest response to its Woodsense, all other Wortlings used the closest of their brethren as the signal for all.

Their connection, after all, was practically instantaneous.

That meant that Hal only had to fool the Wortling closest to him at any given time. He would make sure to use his newly gained knowledge to close gaps in his defenses by ensuring that he supplemented the Wortlings’ Woodsense with his own.

He had tried to split them up into groups, each using their own Woodsense independently and while it was possible, Hal had to keep managing them to the point that he couldn’t keep his own thoughts straight.

It simply was not worth the effort to sort through the constant barrage of confusing sensations. Worse, the more he tried to control them the stronger the sensation of being watched became. It made his skin itch.

He eventually chalked it up to fatigue and fraying nerves. But he didn’t try to control them again in that way, and the sensation didn’t return.

He never strayed far from the camp, so it took him no time at all to cross over to the blazing campfire – which he instructed the Wortlings to keep a safe distance from considering their weakness to fire – when Ashera stood up with two bowls of steaming stew in her hands.

She didn’t even have to call out before Hal was there, stomach rumbling in anticipation.

“After we rest, I will teach you some of the basics for Alchemy,” Ashera told him as Hal went for a second helping. “I could use the help in making some potions,” she elaborated.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Hal asked. “I know we need to sleep and eat but aren’t we trying to reunite the party?”

Ashera calmly folded her hands into her lap. “I need the help,” she said simply. “How much do you know about healing magic, Hal?”

“Not very much. Nothing, really except that I enjoy it better than the slow alternative.”

The lamora nodded. “Many people don’t understand the cost of healing magic. It is an incredibly costly spell and it is difficult to heal appropriately without knowing how somebody is hurt.

“Potions usually work better but they have toxicity issues if the user is not careful. However, potions when supplemented with healing magic, work fantastically well for the short term. There is, of course, the healing from Leveling Up but that is short-lived.

“Since most people use Discordant Stones to allot Experience, the healing effects of Leveling is halved after each use until it is functionally worthless. The truth is, Hal, we are one bad fight away from suffering mortal wounds. I feel honored that you place so much faith in my magic, but I know better.”

She looked so sad and worn all of a sudden. Ashera’s shoulders drooped for a moment before she straightened them and looked up at Hal. “I won’t get into the details, but healing magic is not a simple spell you cast and it makes you all right. The spell does not distinguish minor damage from major. It simply heals.

“If I don’t know specifically how a person is injured, then it is a guessing game at best. I can tell if a person is injured if I focus on them but not the exacts. It is also why actual Healers are so rare. It takes decades of medical study and knowledge as well as magical talent. You are unlikely to find a person who possesses both.”

“I’m sorry, Ashera,” Hal said. “I didn’t know. I thought it was like most other magic.”

“It is quite all right. Most people think like that and I do not blame them. But it is blatantly wrong and I did not want you to harbor any illusions as to what it could do. Even when I know how the damage was done, it still takes an exorbitant amount of mana to cast.

“I would not be able to live with myself if something happened to you Hal and I was powerless to stop it. With a small supply of potions, I can make sure we get out of here. Together. And you can bet once we rejoin with our friends, they will be in need of healing.”

“I understand,” Hal said. “Thank you for explaining it. I didn’t mean to come off as… criticizing.”

“You did not,” she said with a smile. “Your concerns were valid, if misguided. It is part of my task to make sure you understand how things work. If ever you have questions, please seek me out. I will never judge you for wanting to know more.”

Hal found he was the most relaxed around Ashera. Just the two of them together felt oddly intimate. But if Ashera sensed anything similar, she gave no outward sign. He could be himself around her and he knew she would accept him without judgment.

That was a hard trait to find in any person. Much less a friend like Ashera.

When the food was ready, they ate and talked about more pleasant things. Like what they would do once the settlement was built. What hobbies they wanted to pursue and what kind of house they would build.

The stew was delicious, as he had expected. It was similar to beef stroganoff with a mixture of creamy and sour tang that cut the richness of the meat. Hal had no idea how she had gotten the ingredients to stay so fresh when they were in her inventory this whole time. Ashera seemed confused when he asked.

“I took the food from my inventory,” she answered, giving him a strange look. Then it dawned on her and she apologized as she shook her head. “Oh. How could I have forgotten? You must not know much about how Expanded Space works! I am so sorry. I took it for granted that you knew because I noticed you had Expanded Space inventory as well.”

Ashera launched into a lengthy explanation about the reality-bending nature of Expanded Space.

Most notably, that unless otherwise fashioned, the inventory space was a lightless, airless void. And so, if the food was properly prepared it could last a very long time within any inventory of Expanded Space. Just like his.

You eat [Ashera’s Hearty Stew].

+15% HP | +10% SP.

+5 STR.

+10% HP Regeneration.

+10% MP Regeneration.

Duration: 6hrs.

You gain the effect of Camping.

+205% HP Regeneration.

+205% SP Regeneration.

+205% MP Regeneration.

+100% Healing effects.

Duration: While Camping.

Since he was the one to set up the campsite, it made sense that the Camping effect was weaker. A quick mental calculation told Hal that if each Level of Survival Skill gave an increase of 5% to the Camping Buff, then Ashera must only be at Level 5 Survival Skill.

Not too much higher than his own.

He also noted the different buffs this other recipe of Ashera’s gave in comparison to [Ashera’s Travel Stew]. Higher HP, it swapped SP for MP, with the addition of HP and MP regen bonuses.

Twice now she had made something for them to eat from her own stores.

She certainly hadn’t cooked much food for the Rangers when they traveled together and Hal wondered why that was. The most likely culprit was time and effort. They had, for the most part, been in full flight and subsisted of rations and simple fare.

A cooked meal would also probably – though Hal admitted he was guessing at this point – attract unwanted attention. Something that, given their defensible position and many sentries, neither had to truly worry about.

Vorax seemed to enjoy the dance of the flames. Hal wasn’t sure how the mimic could see but he could clearly sense the thing’s pleasure watching the crackling campfire.

Fatigue and weariness settled deep into Hal’s bones. He had barely finished his second helping when he noticed he was starting to nod off.

It had been a long day.

And so he wasn’t surprised when he awoke to Ashera gently shaking his shoulder. “Hal,” she said, her voice as soft as an evening breeze. “Get some rest.” She pointed at his bedroll. “I’ll take the first watch.”

Hal tried to send a command to the Wortlings to protect the camp and his group but he wasn’t sure whether or not that would work. And truthfully, he knew there was no way to confirm it had without the camp being attacked.

He crawled on his hands and knees into the bedroll and laid down.

The last thing Hal saw was Ashera sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, offering Vorax some of her stew.

Before he could tell her the mimic wouldn’t want any, darkness claimed him.

53

“He’s in Murkmire’s Arboretum,” Rinbast said aloud, staring into the silvery pool of water. His calloused fingers lovingly traced the runes etched into the rim of the ceramic bowl.

More than a day of constant searching finally paid off when that reject tapped into another ill-gotten Founder Sigil, showing himself to Rinbast. He still couldn’t figure out how he managed to evade him for so long.

He suspected Midarian’s influence in the matter. It would be just his way too. A dash of chaos thrown into a world that was just starting to become neat and orderly.

Alnafein stood off to the side, respectfully watchful but silent unless directly spoken to. How Rinbast missed good conversation.

Even Hirash, with his hawkish features and constant wheedling, would have been preferable to the silent guardian at his side. He loved Alnafein as a brother, they had come up in the world together but the man was boring.

And he took his task as Rinbast’s guardian entirely too seriously.

The Founder looked up to the glowing orb suspended in the center of the chamber. It provided even light to the circular, airy room. Tall arches let in the sweeping views of Fallwreath and the surrounding forest-covered hillsides.

His brown eyes burned as he looked out of the westernmost portal as if he could kill Hal with a glare from so far away. Even the Founders had their limits, however.

A quick series of gestures through the air and Rinbast had a message racing through the void toward Hirash and his Kinslayers, telling him of the boy’s new position.

How ironic, he thought. That not one, but two traitors would die in the same place.

A ping told Rinbast that one of his defenses had been tripped. He waved away the killing magic before it had a chance to gather, and turned to the dark form that stepped out of Alnafein’s shadow.

“You’ve been better,” said Ralst by way of greeting. The voluptuous dark elf sauntered into the room like she owned it and flashed a pearly grin at Rinbast. “I take it you finally found the kid?”

“I did. And you do know there is a door into these chambers, yes?” He motioned to the trap door leading to a set of spiral stairs below.

Ralst waved one coal-black hand at his words as if she could sweep them away. “Where?”

Rinbast knew she didn’t mean the entryway. It was better to let Ralst keep up with her antics. Such a stark contrast to her brother, Alnafein. Though, perhaps, it explained why Ralst couldn’t stand to be bored.

“My Arboretum in Murkmire,” Rinbast said, motioning to the pool before him.

She snorted, elegantly sidestepping the massive globe set into a polished wood hoop in the middle of the room. Rinbast watched her keen sky-blue eyes take note of the various points of light he had marked there.

Not much escaped her notice.

“How many are going to die in that deathtrap?” she asked, approaching the dais Rinbast stood on.

“Just the two,” Rinbast replied, avoiding the actual question just as she had his.

Ralst cozied up to the balustrade that curved around the far side of Rinbast’s scrying pool. She casually leaned against it, folding her arms atop the white stone and resting her chin atop them. “I suppose the hundreds of would-be rebels don’t count?”

“There are more important things at play than foolish notions of control.”

“It’s a little odd, isn’t it? I thought you and that…” She rolled her wrist, searching for the name that eluded her. Mostly because Rinbast had never told her the god’s name. When it was obvious Rinbast still wouldn’t supply a name, she clicked her tongue in annoyance and moved on. “God, or whatever they are, had a deal?”

Rinbast suppressed a groan, shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wondered when Ralst would connect the dots. “He’s dead.” No use in sugar-coating it. When he opened his eyes, Ralst stared openly at him. Her prominent canines on display as she smiled seductively. “And no, I’m still not telling you his name.”

She pouted. “Well, can you at least tell me how somebody kills a god?”

Rinbast suppressed a snort of laughter. Of course she would want to know that.

“The Mad Traveler.” He didn’t want to give the man the pleasure of saying his name aloud.

“Midarian!” Ralst said with a bright gleam in her eyes. Rinbast shut his eyes at the sound of the man’s name. A distant chuckle filtered through the void to the Founder’s ears. “What quarrel does Midarian have with a god from our world?”

“I’m not sure myself,” Rinbast admitted, though he had his suspicions.

For a god, Erastus was often reaching beyond his means. Humility was not one of his traits. One such incident, he recalled, had involved the Mad Traveler.

It had nearly proved disastrous for the god. A fact Midarian had apparently sought to rectify considering the swift and brutal death the Mad Traveler visited upon the overreaching god only recently.

To Ralst he said, “Who really knows with the Mad Traveler. He’s insane. What’s a god compared to somebody who literally lives within the Margins?”

“He’s not… coming after us, is he?” she asked, and despite her almost fangirlish excitement at hearing Midarian’s involvement, she looked over her shoulder warily.

Rinbast snorted a laugh at the image before him: The Creeping Death looking over her shoulder, afraid.

“No,” he told her, coming around the scrying pool. He didn’t want to be too far in case Hal made the mistake of tapping into his Founder powers again, so he stayed on the raised dais of stone that supported the wide pool of silver water. “We have… an arrangement.”

That was putting it lightly.

The truth would probably send Ralst fleeing back into the shadows. Something he didn’t want. He needed his friend by his side and focused on the task at hand once Hal was dealt with.

They couldn’t afford to be distracted at such a crucial juncture.

Hal’s death had already taken too long. A momentary setback he had told himself. A delay caused by an unfortunate incident. Midarian wouldn’t interfere directly with his plans.

Rinbast didn’t much like the thought of a proxy war with the Mad Traveler but it was better than the alternative. Midarian wouldn’t risk a direct contest of wills, unleashing his brand of “magic” would have disastrous consequences.

The destructive fallout of such an encounter would rip the realm down to its atoms. Rinbast had already pulled Aldim back from the brink once. He didn’t think he had it in him to do so again.

No doubt Erastus had rubbed Midarian the wrong way once – or would have in the future, there was no telling with that man - and Midarian being… well, Midarian, he exacted his revenge in brutal fashion.

A black hand was waving at him, trying to get his attention. “Yosk, where’d you go off to?”

Rinbast shrugged, glanced at the still water, then back at the dark elf. “I have a great deal on my mind.”

“Let me help, I’m bored and need something to do.” Ralst straightened up and sauntered over to one of the many tall stone bookshelves that lined the faceted, glittering walls between the arches. She pulled a book down and began to thumb through it.

Rinbast smiled at his precocious friend. They had been through so much together and it truly filled him with joy to see her still loyal to him after all these years. It only bolstered his belief that the sacrifices were worth it.

“I do have a matter you might be uniquely suited for, if you’ve a mind to help me out,” Rinbast said, placing his hands behind his back. There had been one thing he had seen in the void that had sincerely disturbed him.

Her sky-blue eyes looked up from the book, sparkling with a hint of adventure. “Tell me.”

“What do you know about the Reapers that come to collect the souls of the fallen?”

* * *

When Hal woke up, the feeling of being watched from the previous day returned for a split second before it vanished. When he opened his eyes he expected a face to be floating inches away, staring at him.

Instead, he saw Ashera in front of a low-burning fire. It seemed like she hadn’t slept at all. The change in the fire was the only thing that told Hal he had slept for any length of time.

You gain the effect of Well Rested.

+1% Experience Points gained.

+1% Skill Experience Points gained.

+1% HP | +1% SP | +1% MP.

+1% HP Regeneration.

+1% SP Regeneration.

+1% MP Regeneration.

Duration: 7hrs.

Hal’s eyes popped at the notification. While 1% wasn’t much on its own, it was the implication of the buff that truly had his interest piqued. The higher he could get it, the bigger the increase. And if it was tied to Survival Skill at all, he was seriously losing out by not having that Leveled.

Ashera pulled out a series of glass bowls and delicate-looking blown glass contraptions with funneled ends and spiraling tubes.

“Have you slept at all?” Hal asked her, crawling out his bedroll.

“Yes,” she smiled sheepishly back at him. “Your Wortlings did a fantastic job protecting the campsite. As you can see, we are both alive and healthy. With a full night of sleep behind us.”

He was a little surprised Ashera trusted the Wortlings - and by extension, him - so much. He gave a satisfied nod, happy that so long as they had the Wortlings, they might be able to get a decent night’s sleep. “Those look delicate.”

“This is dragonglass. You could try to cut it right now with your sword and it would not make a scratch. It is very sturdy.”

“And very expensive,” Hal guessed.

Ashera merely shrugged one shoulder and continued setting up the area by unrolling a bamboo mat on the grass to provide a level surface.

He had a good idea where she had gotten them from. In what little time Hal had spent fleeing for his life through the Founder’s keep in Fallwreath, he had seen a great many displays of wealth.

If he had that all on display, Hal could only imagine what riches he had behind locked doors. Doors, it seemed, that Ashera had access to.

As much as he wanted to ask her about the man that had effectively enslaved her, the last thing he wanted to do was open up old wounds.

Hal belatedly noticed the smell coming from the cookpot. He hardly minded having leftovers but he was worried about food poisoning.

When he asked Ashera about it, she explained the enchantments on the pot that kept the food edible for days after being made, so long as the lid stayed on.

Getting food poisoning was the last thing he wanted. He’d been a little less-than-cautious as of late. Mostly due to the constant strain of his situation but he wasn’t so far gone that he would willingly eat eight-hour-old food without a second thought.

They ate leftovers warmed over the glowing coals and Hal noticed – to his great surprise - that Vorax did, in fact, eat Ashera’s stew. The mimic slurped up the stew with a long purple tongue and then ate the bowl for dessert.

Hal reached over and patted the trunk’s smoothly polished top, sending his approval and fondness to the mimic. Though he doubted it was necessary. Vorax seemed more than capable of picking up on his emotions without him needing to specifically target the mimic.

But it seemed like a good idea regardless. He wanted Vorax to know he thought about him as a friend. And in truth, he worried about the mimic.

Ironic, considering that Vorax often worried about Hal in much the same way that Hal worried about the mimic. They both thought the other needed sheltering and protection from the world around them.

Hal got a kick out of that. Not that he doubted Vorax’s convictions but the cyclical nature of their worrying often made it hard to separate Hal’s feelings from the mimic’s.

Vorax’s long purple tongue rolled out of the cracked-open lid and licked along Hal’s arm. It spread a sweet-smelling slime across his clothing.

Not just sweet-smelling. But one of Hal’s favorite smells, one he thought he would never experience again; the scent of a Cinnabon in the mall and that strange smell that only Blockbusters used to have. It reminded him of better times.

No, not better, he realized. Simpler.

It was a gift, something Vorax wanted to give back to Hal. And as somewhat gross as it was to be licked by a mimic, it was a kind gesture.

“Before we begin,” Ashera said, “We’re going to need some simple reagents to craft. You up for a little supply hunting?”

Hal set the bowl he had scraped clean down and stood. Vorax wrapped his tongue around it and had a second helping of dessert. “Just tell me what we need.”

54

Halfway through the list of ingredients Ashera rattled off to him, Hal’s attention was stolen by a new prompt.

New Quest: Alchemical Ambitions.

Ashera has agreed to help you learn the basic fundamentals of Alchemy. But first, you’ll need some ingredients. Collect the requisite items and return to Ashera to begin your training.

Objectives

- Acquire the following items:
- 5 [Witherroot]
- 5 [Waterwheels]
- 5 [Vials of Tree Sap]
- 10 [Vials of Fresh Water]

Rewards

- Unlock Alchemy Skill.

- Unlock Foraging Skill.

- 500 Experience Points.

“Got all that?” Ashera asked. “Let’s go.”

An answering grin appeared on Hal’s face and he set off with Ashera and six of the Wortlings into the forest, away from the safety and warmth of the fire. He left the others behind to safeguard their camp for when they’d return to craft the potions.

* * *

It took them less than five minutes to find a cluster of creatures.

Using the Wortlings had made child’s play of the search. He wondered what he would do without them. And then he remembered they were not permanently bound to him.

Not unless he found a way to do so. And even if he did, there were problems that as well.

Even if he was able to walk out of here with them, he doubted they could walk freely in any town. Or that Vorax could for that matter.

At least with the mimic, he could hide or disguise him somehow. A dozen hulking Wortlings were impossible to smuggle anywhere. The lure to have a small army of creatures was intoxicating to Hal, who had grown up on RTS like Starcraft, Warcraft, Command & Conquer, and countless others.

It was the ultimate dream to direct forces with a mental command, divorced from the reality that their deaths were on your head. If they weren’t ever truly thinking, living creatures, then their deaths would not have the same weight.

But it wasn’t a creature that caught Hal by surprise. Whoops, he thought to himself. I have the list of items that Ashera needs, but I have no clue what a Witherroot or a Waterwheel is.

In his eagerness to test his newfound understanding of the Wortling’s strengths and weaknesses, Hal had forgotten to get so much as a description of the ingredients Ashera wanted.

He could have pondered the clues, decide that he needed to be near water for the eponymously named [Waterwheel], and taken his chances. But Hal wasn’t so proud that he would refuse to admit his ignorance.

“Ashera?” Hal asked hesitantly.

“You need a description of the plants?” she replied with a hint of mirth.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. There was no trace of judgment in her tone. No annoyance.

“Please.” He chuckled at his own foolishness.

“I wondered if you somehow had learned these things already,” she said with a grin. “It is good that I came along. Witherroot is found on and around tree saplings. Look for pale ashen bark with clusters of red vine.

“That vine is the Witherroot. If you cut it, a milky substance should leak out. If a green substance leaks out, that’s another plant. They look similar, so you will have to test them.”

“Is it poisonous?”

“No, they both smell quite nice as a matter of fact.”

“Well, that’s easier than I thought it would be. What else?”

“Waterwheels are found in rivers. They look like lilypads but they slowly spin. Be wary, they are not what they seem. The bulk of their mass is below the surface and they will pop out of the water, spraying an acidic secretion that blinds and bites at once.

“Then there is the Tree Sap. Contrary to the namesake, it is not from any tree. The Tree Sap we are looking for comes from a Treant. If we can, we should locate a Treant Sapling.

“They will not yield as much sap but they will be a lot easier to kill. Also, do not use fire on them. While weak to it, doing so burns off the sap we need. I hear from Elora that you are possessed of certain magicks that might do just that.”

Hal nodded. And it was good she warned him. Using Bomb Toss on trees seemed like a good way of dealing with them.

“Full-grown Treants are big, Hal. If they stand still you cannot tell them from any other tree but when they start moving you will feel the ground quake with their step. And finally, the water is just water. We can get that back at the camp, so we need not bother picking it up.”

“Thanks, Ashera. Did you want to split up and divide the list in half?” Hal asked.

“I would like to stay with you, if you do not mind.”

“Afraid I’ll die again?” he asked with a chortle.

“Something like that.” Though Ashera’s warm smile took some of the sting of the confirmation. “In reality, we will get the job done much faster together. And it would be foolish of me to send you - our one and only Founder - off on his own to face unknown threats in a foreign place.”

Hal arranged the Wortlings alongside them and headed toward the west, moving farther into the forest of tall trees. Monsters flanked them on either side, shadowing the curious group.

One of them held an item he needed. He could feel the quaking of the creature’s ponderous steps from here, identifying it as a Treant.

He had been moving toward the nearest river but with the Treant so near, Hal made a break toward it, sending his Wortlings out ahead of him to flank it.

The other predators he had sensed backed off as Hal closed in on the Treant. That was a warning sign if he ever saw one. Hal slowed and slid into a crouch, trying to be as quiet as possible and realizing it was probably all in vain.

If the Treant was anything like the Wortlings it likely had Woodsense too. But he couldn’t be sure, and so he hedged his stealthy approach by drawing [Goblinbane].

Hal couldn’t contain his grin. I’m sneaking up on a tree, how weird is that?

The ground shuddered and one of the Wortlings far off to the side simply winked out of existence. The rolling weight of darkness that failed to register on the Wortling’s Woodsense came into view a moment later, toppling small saplings and thick leafy underbrush.

A boulder as tall as Hal rolled to a stop a few feet to his right.

He broke to the left with Ashera, realizing the foolish nature of sneaking up on something with Woodsense. How would he even know a Treant from any other of the countless trees if it was standing still?

His best bet was to draw it out. Failing that, a hasty retreat.

Another Wortling vanished and Hal couldn’t contain the snarl that escaped his throat. Wherever the Treant was, it was still out of reach of his borrowed Woodsense.

“Ashera?” Hal asked.

“Yes, Hal?”

“Do Treants have Woodsense?” As usual, Hal was Splicing aberration-shadow.

“I would not doubt it, not that I have had the misfortune to encounter one until this moment.”

“Why didn’t you stop me from going after this then?” he asked. She had to have felt the quaking ground as well.

A glowing pool of orange light flashed at his feet and Hal dove to the side while Ashera danced to the side easily.

The ground splintered and spewed dirt in a shower over them both. Hal landed hard on his belly and he scrambled quickly to his feet. Hal pulled in the remaining Wortlings, hoping their converging Woodsense would illuminate the danger his eyes could not.

One of the Wortlings far to Hal’s left found the Treant and Hal made a beeline toward its location, always trying to keep a thick tree trunk between him and the creature. Hoping against hope that he wasn’t about to run into another Treant by doing so.

As he caught sight of Ashera again, he utilized Deep Magic to bring coiling shadow up the length of his blade.

“I thought you would enjoy the experience,” she said with a mischievous grin. “I am by your side, and you have many of your monsters with you as well. I did suggest finding Treant Saplings as you recall. I find that experience is ever the best tutor.”

Hal grumbled but didn’t refute her reasoning. Object lesson aside, now that he had a Treant in his sights he wasn’t about to let it go. Not after it took out two of his Wortlings.

He still hadn’t paid back the EXP he lost from them.

Woodsense told him that the towering ten-foot-wide tree on his left was different from the rest. As far as Hal could see, it was just another massive tree but he trusted the Wortling’s assessment and struck out at the motionless thing.

Ashera skidded to a stop, noticing what he was doing and joined in. Her mace shattered its thick bark and made a crater in the wood.

Without Woodsense he would have walked right by it. Good thing it worked on the Treant after all.

An axe would be nice, right about now.

His shadowy blade bit into the wood easier than it seemed it should have. A thick ichorous green sap flowed from the wound.

As soon as the Treant’s cover was blown, the thing shuddered and a thick series of branches high above Hal’s head came sweeping down and knocked both Ashera and Hal aside.

Air blasted from his lungs, Hal flew ten feet back and fetched up hard against another tree. Ashera managed to get to her feet first and came out swinging, distracting the Treant from the easier target.

The Treant’s slam had taken nearly 15% of Hal’s newly increased HP off with a single strike. He staggered to his feet, sending his Wortlings to swarm from the sides to help Ashera. Hal was beginning to have second thoughts about fighting the thing but forged on, eager to rise to the challenge.

Four Wortlings converged on the charging Treant and though their attacks seemed to hardly slow its pace, they distracted it long enough for Hal to get out of range of its second slam attack.

Or so he thought.

The Treant raised a knotted limb like it was going to strike Hal but instead, it gently rested the branch on the tree Hal had been near. Only when the second tree shuddered its branches and began to move did Hal realize the danger he was in.

No, no, no. Not fair!

Ordering the Wortlings to attack only the first Treant, Hal summoned forth the glowing spectral chains of Enchainment. They leashed around the roots of the waking Treant and pulled it back into place. Hal could already tell the spell wasn’t going to hold it for long.

As much as he wanted to use Bloodrake, he felt the need to be conservative. Enchainment, at a cost of 18 MP was less than half of Bloodrake’s 45.

The Wortlings attacks had little effect on the Treant’s thick bark hide, but they seemed to work exceptionally well wherever Ashera had cracked open its hard bark shell.

Hal dashed between the slamming tree limbs and struck out with the [Goblinbane]. Channeling Rending Steel, he carved a series of cross-hatched marks onto the bark in quick brutal succession.

As he thought, it didn’t do much to the monster. Its thick bark-like armor absorbed most of the damage but Hal took aim at one of the cratered wounds left by Ashera’s attack and struck again.

Hal’s next attack bit deeper into the Treant but it still was not enough. With his Enchainment spell likely to end soon, they needed to finish this quickly.

It was the perfect time to see what Rend could do, and more importantly how much it cost.

Keeping an eye on his current EXP, Hal hooked his fingers and lashed out with his free hand. The chain wrapped around his wrist dangled and rattled in the air.

The golden mark pulsed brighter, its floating projected image clear as day.

Hal’s hooked fingers were coated in a sheen of golden energy as the mark slid up his forearm and came to rest on the back of his left hand.

Hal winced, fully expecting to lose a few fingernails in the process if the magic didn’t work. The only thing he had used it on hadn’t been physical and he didn’t know what would happen when his hand met the rough bark.

The magic bit through the creature and thin golden cracks of light appeared all over its bark, lighting it up like the weirdest Christmas tree he’d ever seen.

You use Founder’s Sigil: Rend.

The [Treant | Lv.19] takes 55 points of damage.

Additional Effect: -50% DEF.

Bark splintered and fractured under the relatively minor blows of the Wortlings and the Treant was hard-pressed to keep them at bay. Without its superior defense shrugging off their biting toxic attacks, the large creature was at a loss.

Ashera waded in and each blow crunched not only the bark but the tender wood beneath, turning it into pulp.

Glancing at his EXP, he cringed. He had been right. Founder Sigils took EXP instead of MP or SP. Rend appeared to take 250 EXP. A hefty cost, but he couldn’t deny the effect. Maybe he could use sparks instead somehow.

Halving a powerful enemy’s DEF was worth the cost in the right situation. Such as right then, when two of the Wortlings Hal brought with him lay dead.

55

Even though the Treant was losing the battle, it managed to crush another of the Wortlings in its wild rage. They weren’t quite as fast as Hal and they were difficult to control while he was in the thick of things himself.

When a gnarled branch swung down on Hal’s head, he lifted his arms reflexively to block the coming blow, even though he should have known the futility of it.

The Wortling he had unconsciously summoned to his aid had no concept of futility or failure and it complied willingly. Standing nearly a head-and-a-half above Hal, the Wortling took the brunt of the attack, pushing its vestigial head down into its shoulders but somehow surviving the assault.

Uncharacteristically, Hal burst out laughing at the sight of the ridiculous near-headless Wortling. But his mirth was shortlived as he remembered where he was.

Hal swept to the side and swung the [Goblinbane] with both hands. The blade met little resistance as it carved through the gnarled branch and severed it neatly. The ground rumbled a moment later as the collective attacks spelled the inevitable end of the Treant.

It broke apart into a swirl of green leaves and smoke, siphoning into Hal. Infusing him with a large dose of treant essence. The most he ever received from something that wasn’t a boss - or whatever passed for a boss in this world.

Before Hal could celebrate, however, the second newly raised Treant broke free of its chains.

You defeat the [Treant | Lv. 19].

You gain 303 Experience Points (+1% Well Rested).

You earn 30 Sparks.

You absorb 50 Treant Essence.

You obtain:

- 10 [Vials of Tree Sap]
- 5 [Treant Seeds]
- 1 [Bag of Treant Cuttings]
- 2 [Silverleaf]

Trusting to his instincts, Hal dropped flat onto his belly and felt the rustle of wind blow over him as the second Treant swept its branch where he had just been a moment ago.

Your Evasion Skill has risen to Level 1.

+1% Evasion speed (+1%).

-1% Stamina cost (-1%).

The Wortlings, following Hal’s command, did likewise and when Hal got to his feet he found the remaining three were still alive and well.

Knowing the strength of the Treant, and worrying that the thing would wake another of its kind, Hal wasn’t about to risk another of his Wortlings.

Hand outstretched, fingers curled, Hal summoned forth the Dominate sigil. The Founder mark slid to the back of his left hand and golden lightning shot from the mark to the Treant.

It went rigid and for a moment Hal feared that he had somehow made an error. That he somehow reverted the Treant to a simple tree. But when it moved again and Hal felt it there in the back of his mind like a Wortling, he knew he had succeeded.

Taking a look at his EXP was slightly less comforting. If Rend was 250 EXP, then Dominate was several times more expensive.

He had just lost 770 EXP. That was far more EXP than it took to Dominate each Wortling. Maybe size or strength played a role?

I guess I better make this worth it then, Hal thought with a grin.

Ashera gave him a questioning look. “Did you…?”

Hal nodded, and just to show off a little, Hal had the Treant bend and lower one of its branches for Hal to walk upon. “Come on up,” Hal called to her.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Ashera asked, putting away her mace and wrapped her arms around herself as she looked warily at it.

“As safe as can be,” Hal assured her, sheathing his sword.

Another branch lowered, this one much closer to the ground and Hal had the remaining Wortlings climb aboard. Together with Ashera, Hal commanded the Treant to bend its branches to provide a stable seat high up on its shoulders.

From there, Hal could direct it to wreak havoc. Ashera sat tentatively beside him, gripping a small branch to steady herself. Each of the Treant’s lumbering steps was fairly jarring.

The Treant’s Woodsense was far superior to anything the Wortlings had. Despite its slow, lumbering motions it illuminated hiding monsters all over the place. Many of them were the same predators that had stalked Hal and Ashera when they first left the safety of their camp.

Hal looked to Ashera with a grin. “You ready for some wanton destruction?” he asked, raising a free hand he summoned Bomb Toss. With the Treant’s Woodsense guiding him, he lobbed it at a small unsuspecting shrub.

Another Bomb Toss followed in its wake and a third after that. Safe on his perch, Hal didn’t have to worry about reprisals. And if he needed to regenerate his MP, he could always wait patiently while the Treant dealt with the threat.

The shrub erupted into screeches as several spindly gnarled wooden creatures - like man-sized treants made of dry wood - burst from the protective shelter. They ran around as the fire continued to deal damage to them at an astonishing rate.

Hal made sure to keep the Treant well away from the growing conflagration. One of the creatures fell down dead, turning into a pile of ash.

You defeat the [Entin | Lv.18].

You gain 202 Experience Points (+1% Well Rested).

You earn 20 Sparks.

Ashera’s eyes lit up at the spectacle. More Entins died as they ran into sheltering members of their own kind in their desperate bid to flee the pursuing Treant and its firebombs.

If a single Entin gave 202 EXP, then he’d need to kill at least 4 to even the cost of the Treant. But considering he had a walking tower, Hal was interested in more than just covering the cost of the Treant.

He needed to balance the debt he created from Dominating the Wortlings. And the three that he lost to the first Treant.

For once, Hal was going to turn the tables on his enemies. No running and hiding, skulking about in the shadows. They still had a purpose here, and being separated from their friends Hal couldn’t afford to spend too much time destroying anything that came across their path.

But he could spend a little time.

Ashera joined in the fun shortly after. She touched Hal’s shoulder, healing his wounds a little and forming a black dart in her upraised hand. She sent it at one of the fleeing Entins, spearing it through and killing the thing instantly.

“Ashera?” Hal asked during a lull in the fighting.

“What is it, Hal?” she asked, tucking a strand of white hair behind one ear.

“Your abilities… they require you to heal somebody to function?”

“To a degree,” she confirmed. “It is a complex dance and as I said before, healing is difficult. But yes. Healing empowers my other… darker magic. Dramatically increasing its effectiveness and power. Why?”

“So if I was hurt… and you healed me constantly, you would be much stronger?”

“I suppose so.” Ashera gave him a concerned look. “Hal, I do not think I like where this is going.”

“Normally I would agree with you,” he said with a grin. “But up here, and with our big friend taking the hits for us… I could use my health to replenish his or even to bolster my own mana….”

Ashera nodded, understanding clear on her face. “And I would be beside you, healing you along the way while empowering my own spells. A unique confluence of events that normally wouldn’t be possible. Interesting. Very well, if you are okay with this then I will of course do my utmost to assist you.”

And so Hal used Assimilation to repair the damage to the Treant and to Stumpy, the Wortling with the pushed in head. Unfortunately, the recovered health did little for the Wortling’s physical state and he remained unique among his brethren.

The Treant, however, was noisy and their chaos was even noisier. While they wreaked havoc on the local monster population, many of the creatures were canny enough to avoid them.

And so Hal sent down the Wortlings to corral the monsters. Their scouting was almost unnecessary considering the massive range on the Treant’s Woodsense.

Hal pulled up the creature’s stats, curious how it compared to the Wortlings.

[Treant (Awakened Tree)]

Lv.22

Resources

HP: 885

SP: 250

MP: 300

Resistances

Fire: -30

Water: 20

Lightning: 10

Earth: 50

Wind: 0

Ice: 0

Piercing: 50

Slashing:-20

Blunt: 20

Defensive Properties

DEF: 255

MDEF: 10

Abilities

Slam

- Treants are capable of dealing considerable blunt damage by crashing their limbs into the enemy.

Hurl

- Throw a boulder or similar object with unerring accuracy up to a range of 180ft.

Stomp

- Bear down with all of your weight, knocking most creatures off their feet and dealing significant crushing damage.

Thrash

- Throw climbing creatures off your trunk or deal area damage with sweeping limbs.

Spells

Acorn Bomb

- Hurl an explosive acorn that detonates in a 10ft radius dealing piercing damage to those within range.

- Element: Earth.

- MP: 50

Leaf Storm

- Summon a whirlwind of bladed leaves that effect a 10ft radius.

- Element: Wind.

- MP: 50

Traits

Siege Creature

- As a massive creature, Treants deal triple damage to structures or structure-like entities such as other Treants, Rock Golems, and other such constructs.

False Form

- Remaining motionless, the Treant is utterly indistinguishable from any other tree.

Thirsty Roots

- Creatures slain within a 30ft radius are absorbed into the Treant’s roots, nourishing it and providing it with HP up to half of the EXP the creature provided.

Woodsense V

- Treants are naturally capable of detecting threats in a wide radius of up to 180ft, so long as both the creature and the Treant are in contact with vegetation.

“No wonder these things were hard to take down,” Hal muttered.

“How so?” Ashera asked.

And so Hal explained everything that he could see from the creature. Its stats were significantly higher than the Wortlings. The Treant’s defensive prowess was no joke. Rend was practically required to reduce its DEF to a point they could actually deal damage.

With Assimilation actively regenerating the creature, it was practically immortal. Hal and Ashera, perched atop its “shoulder” high up were impervious to practically all monsters that came at them.

Their ranged spellwork laid low one monster after the other and what they couldn’t kill the Treant easily could.

The Wortlings helped where they could, often luring or corralling monsters into the devastating path of the Treant. Out of the direct battle himself, Hal could efficiently direct them where they needed to go.

They kept it up for a long while until both Hal and Ashera’s MP had long-since run dry and he used Assimilation to fill them back up by tapping some of the Treant’s substantial resources.

In the end, they were limited not by their newfound power - which was great enough to topple even rival Treants who more often than not fled before them once a couple more were destroyed - but by a lack of monsters to fight.

Ashera laughed and placed a hand to her middle, shaking her head. “Oh…” She placed a hand on Hal’s arm. “Thank you, Hal. I needed that. It was very… cathartic.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” he said with a grin. “I’m going to let the Treant roam and destroy anything it sees. It’s too big to take it with us, unfortunately.” Hal placed a hand on the strong limb they were resting on. He let out a forlorn sigh. “At least I got some seeds and a cutting. Once we get a Sanctum that’ll be one of the first things I do.”

“I can see our new home will not want for stout protectors then,” Ashera said.

Instructing the Treant to let them down, Hal and Ashera stepped onto the churned earth from the latest battle. Ashera tapped Hal on the shoulder to get his attention and pointed. “You see those trees there?”

“I do, what about them?”

“The Witherroot is there,” she said, looking back at the Treant. “I know you did not require my help after all but if you would do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Keep the Treant nearby while you harvest. If you do that, I will feel comfortable heading back to the campsite and setting up for brewing some potions so we might make up for lost time.”

Hal rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry about that. I got a little carried away.”

The lamora placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I enjoyed it very much. Especially when that third Treant ate your chain. You really should have left well enough alone you know.”

“I figured I could get some progress on my Improvised Weaponry Skill.”

Ashera shook her head and gave a soft tinkling laugh once more. “Will you do that for me?”

“Of course, Ashera.”

56

True to his word, Hal kept the Treant with him but he forced a concession onto Ashera. He would keep the Treant by his side if she agreed to let Stumpy escort her back to the campfire.

He had set the other Wortlings back at camp to Root once he learned how useful the ability was. With their constant HP regeneration, he could draw on their HP to refuel his MP.

And so for most of the battles, the Wortlings had stayed nearby, Rooted to provide Hal and Ashera with plenty of HP to convert into MP. He couldn’t keep pulling from the Treant, they used so much MP that the towering creature would have long-since died if he kept that up.

With Ashera retreating into the distance, Hal looked over the notifications and prompts he had suppressed while they were on the warpath.

You learn Drill Branch.

Summon spiraling branches to pierce through the toughest hide and gore your opponents. By continuing to channel mana into the spell, you can continue the spell indefinitely. Partially ignores DEF.

School: Beast Magic.

Type: Physical (Piercing).

Family: Treant (Plantoid).

MP: 35

BP: 3

Strain: 2

Damage: 10

Your Bomb Toss has risen to Tier II.

+10% Damage.

+10% Burning duration.

Bomb Toss II

Throw a goblin-bomb at the enemy dealing Area of Effect (AOE) fire damage.

School: Beast Magic.

Type: Magical (Fire).

Family: Goblin (Beastmen).

MP: 40

BP: 2

Strain: 1

Damage: 16 (AOE).

Your Beast Magic has risen to Level 7.

+3% Beast Magic potency (+21%).

Your Assimilation has risen to Tier II.

Increased conversion rate.

Hal grinned at the two Wortlings beside him and the towering Treant. Apart from the skill increases, he made significant headway in repaying his debt for Dominating the Wortlings. Gained a handsome sum of sparks, and a fair amount of alchemical ingredients above and beyond what the Quest required.

True, he did lose 3 Wortlings, but the rest were hale and healthy. Even Stumpy with his disfigurement. For some reason, he felt a strange attachment to Stumpy more than any of the others.

His new Beast Magic spell looked awesome, and though he set it immediately, he wouldn’t be able to set any more spells unless he removed one or found a way to increase his Burden. He was now sitting at 10 out of 10.

As much as he wanted to try it out, there really wasn’t anything around. With a shrug, Hal focused on the two Rooted Wortlings. His recent gains in Assimilation had him curious as to just how efficient it was.

While he didn’t know the gains it made, with a little work he figured he could work out an approximate conversion rate. And that alone would be useful to know.

On a whim, Hal reached out to the distant half-dozen at camp. Unlike the two Wortlings nearby, he couldn’t feel their HP or SP.

“Ah well,” he muttered, “It was worth a try.”

A supply of resource batteries all Rooted in a safe – and distant - location while Hal ventured out, constantly tapping Assimilation to top himself off while he bottomed out his SP and MP was too good to be true.

But the two nearby he could use. In five minutes they would recover a total of 100 HP between them. With more Wortlings at his command, he could speed that up even more by siphoning just a bit from each.

On their own, they weren’t terribly strong.

Hal, watching his SP and MP, focused on Assimilation and drew a few points of the Wortling’s HP.

Assimilating their HP and SP, Hal fell within himself trying to keep all the numbers floating in his head.

After nearly ten minutes of testing and working things out, Hal’s HP and MP were nearly filled and he felt confident in his conclusions. It seemed the conversion rate was determined by what he was trying to recover.

Your Investigation has risen to Level 8.

+1% Investigation speed (+8%).

+2% Investigation success (+16%).

I’ll have to keep that in mind. Getting Investigation up while examining and exploring mechanics was a useful way to double-dip. He could learn more about the world while also gaining valuable skill.

HP was the costliest, obviously. For every point of HP he tried to restore, he’d only recover 0.55. Barely better than a 1 HP restored per 2 resources spent.

Wortlings under the effect of Root recovered 10 HP per minute. Which meant that, per Wortling, (and provided he could keep them within range) Hal could recover roughly 5.5 HP per minute.

With the two Wortlings at his side, he could recover 11 HP per minute if he constantly tapped them with Assimilation.

While 10 HP a minute didn’t seem like much, compared to his own regeneration it was simply staggering. A single Wortling using Root had an effective hourly HP regeneration of 600.

At his current tier of Assimilation, his effective hourly regeneration was over 700. And that was just for HP. The other resources weren’t quite as inefficient.

SP recovery was a lot better at a rough 75% conversion rate. He could recover 15 SP a minute by tapping both Wortlings. MP, strangely, was by far the best rate at 80%.

The testing confirmed his working theory that HP was in a league of its own. Every time he used Assimilation to recover his HP, it had cost an egregious amount of SP and MP.

Though it was strangely in line with what Ashera had explained to him about healing magic. It was difficult and expensive to recover HP through magical means.

If he had all his Wortlings with him – and at that moment he was hit by how profound a loss of three of them was – he’d be a veritable powerhouse. Practically unkillable even without a Treant mobile fortress by his side.

He had to temper his excitement, however, because he knew he didn’t have all of his Wortlings with him. Even as he used Assimilation to draw on the healing Wortlings beside him, he had to remind himself how vulnerable they would be sitting motionless like they were.

Any creature could come upon them and strike at them. Not that he expected it. They had cleared the area pretty handily up to the nearby river. But if there were monsters about, he doubted his ability to coordinate a guard, Root the rest, use Woodsense to scan for threats, respond appropriately, and use Assimilation all while fighting whatever was threatening him at the time.

The idea was sound but its execution would be more complicated than he thought he could handle at the moment. But two Wortling batteries? That he could handle.

Rather than waste anymore time, now that he had a good grasp on how Assimilation worked, Hal used the bulk of his regained EXP to hit Level 11 Beastborne.

Golden wind swirled around him and he received a pleasantly familiar prompt.

Beastborne reaches Level 11.

You have 5 unspent Attribute Points awaiting distribution.

Your HP, SP, and MP are fully restored.

Hal immediately put the 5 points into INT and then took a look at his stats. Even after so much struggle and sorrow, there was something awe-inspiring about looking at his status sheet.

Literally seeing the numerical representation of himself growing was an incredible feeling.

[Status]

Hal Williams

Level: 21

Discordant Stone: 2,306/55,000

Strain: 6/25

BP: 10/10

Classes

Beastborne: 11

Novice: 10

Resources

HP: 362/362

SP: 285/285

MP: 340/340

Attributes

STR: 10 (+5)

VIT: 20

DEX: 10 (+1)

AGI: 10 (+4)

INT: 27 (+1)

MND: 25

CHR: 10 (+3)

Regeneration

HP/hr: 47.9

SP/hr: 49.2

MP/hr: 72.6

He was actually starting to feel strong for once. There was enough EXP left over that he could use Dominate or Rend again if he needed to but it wasn’t enough that he was sitting on a potential Level Up.

Going from Level 11 Beastborne to Level 12 would take 5,500 EXP.

Hal let the Wortlings recover themselves back to full while those back at camp continued to bolster their HP beyond its maximum.

He set off shortly after toward the nearby river. With the Treant at his back, he commanded the Wortlings to flank him thirty feet to either side while scanning the trees for the telltale red vines and ashen bark Ashera had mentioned.

57

Hal soon caught the sight of the creeping vines Ashera had mentioned. They crawled up the side of a nearby tree in a weblike net. As he closed in and examined them, Hal was taken aback by the striking similarity to Twizzlers. Or, he supposed, Red Vines depending on where you grew up.

Delicately, he reached out and pried the thin creepers from the tree. Their twisted ridges were filled with a milky white substance. Ashera was right, whatever fluid they seeped did smell nice. It reminded him of cotton candy. The blue kind. Not pink.

Hal would go to his deathbed insisting there was a flavor difference between them that went beyond food coloring.

Some hills were worth dying on.

You gather 2 [Witherroot].

You gather 1 [Vial of Withersap].

Hal stared at the prompt and watched as the clump of bizarre candy-like vines vanished into his inventory. Reaching inside, he picked out a simple glass vial no larger than his thumb. Inside was some of that milky substance.

He knew, without needing to uncork the thing, that it would smell like blue cotton candy.

He looked back at his latest Quest after gathering the Witherroot from a few more trees.

One of them he had to throw out. It looked identical to the one he gathered, but a green oozing sap flowed out smelling pleasantly of green apple candy.

Quest Update: Alchemical Ambitions.

After laying waste to a fair portion of the region, you have managed to collect two of the items Ashera needs for her potions. Two more ingredients remain to be gathered. Rewards have been updated to reflect the subjugation of the surrounding area.

Objectives

- Acquire the following items:

- 5 [Witherroot] (Complete).

- 5 [Waterwheels].

- 5 [Vials of Tree Sap] (Complete).

- 10 [Vials of Fresh Water].

Rewards

- Unlock Alchemy Skill.

- Unlock Foraging Skill.

- 700 Experience Points.

- 100 Plantoid Essence.

So wanton violence does solve everything!

That the Quest saw fit to give him more for going on a killing spree was a little ridiculous but he wasn’t going to turn down more EXP or essence.

The babble of the nearby river was soothing. Though Hal could just make out the sheen of the moving water at the edge of the light provided by the Guild’s badge, he didn’t move any closer.

His Treant stomped after him and Hal had it stand as a sentry in case anything snuck up on him.

He still had to get the [Waterwheels]. And he kept in mind Ashera’s warning.

Considering the way water seemed to react with Woodsense, he didn’t think it was likely he would be able to use the Wortlings to find the [Waterwheels].

But that didn’t stop him from using them as batteries. With a quick look around and a scan with Woodsense for any enemies, Hal set both Wortlings to Root.

Staring at the glittering light thrown back on the moving water ahead, between the ashen trees covered in thick [Witherroot] vines, Hal wondered about what compelled him to go on such a violent spree.

It was more than the need for more EXP or essence. While he gained a great deal of the former, he barely got any worthwhile essence which seemed odd.

His recent rash of recklessness was weighing heavily on his mind. There was a part of himself, like a beast rattling around in a cage, that yearned to prove itself against every threat that crossed his path.

How long had it been affecting him? He was usually far more careful than he’d been. Skirting death so carelessly was not like him at all. And yet, he didn’t want to be so cautious that he had to prepare every last little thing before he would even think of engaging in a fight.

He had real power for once in his life. Something tangible and true. There was no denying the intoxicating effect of spellcasting or being superhuman. No matter how foolish he knew it to be, the thrill was addictive.

But how much of that was this fierce beast inside and how much was the result of growing confidence at his ever-increasing strength?

The instinctual part of himself that thrilled in combat and roared with unchecked aggression whenever a threat reared its head was not him. And to continue to let it control him would ultimately spell his death.

And yet, it seemed to lend me some strength. Or was that just in my head?

Without that unknown urging in the back of his mind for destruction and danger, he might have tempered his desires to Dominate the Treant. Instead, he might have chosen to fight it one-on-one for fear of losing more EXP.

Instead, by letting himself be driven by that insatiable beast, he wreaked untold death and devastation upon monsters that would have otherwise gleefully killed him if given the chance.

As if thinking about death summoned the specter, Hal nearly fell on his rear when the Reaper lifted through the ground a few feet ahead of him with a bored expression.

When their eyes locked, it was clear the Reaper hadn’t expected him either, because her golden eyes flew open and she rushed several feet away through the air. Right through one of Hal’s Wortlings as if it wasn’t even there.

Immediately put on the defensive, Hal looked around for the impending threat. The Reaper could only mean one thing; his death was imminent.

Perhaps the Reaper had seen his distress because she put out two pale blue-toned hands. “You have nothing to fear,” she said, though her voice had a watery and thin quality to it he hadn’t remembered before.

Not that he could recall her talking to him once he had grabbed her, pulling her away from that black abyss and whatever those robed figures had in store for her. Only his Premonition trait had alerted him to the danger.

Now, thinking back on that moment, Hal wondered if he had made the right decision. He had made a split-second decision and despite the Reaper’s attitude toward him, he didn’t feel it right that she should be ambushed.

He hadn’t expected that he would bring her to the land of the living. All he wanted to do was get her out of harm’s way. The fact that she was still here made him wonder if something was wrong.

“You’re not here to take me away?” he asked her, his right hand easing toward the [Goblinbane] at his hip.

“Do you really think you can hurt me with that piece of metal?” she asked, her words dripping with disdain. Hal noticed she didn’t make a move to come any closer.

Then he remembered the way she reacted when he touched her. She had become corporeal. Hal took two strides to close the distance between them and she lurched away toward the river at her back.

Her beautiful visage crumpled into a scowl. Golden eyes burned with indignation.

“If you’re not here as a warning of my impending death, what are you doing here?” he asked.

For a heartbeat, a flicker of doubt and worry crossed the Reaper’s face. Her bright eyes dim and uncertain.

The tension eased out of the air and Hal let go of the [Goblinbane’s] grip. “You don’t know,” he answered for her. “You’re not supposed to be here, are you?”

Like she was trying to ward off a chill, the Reaper crossed her arms over her black armor and shook her head. Her curtain of raven-black hair shimmered in the light of his Guild badge.

“Why are you afraid of getting near me?” Hal asked, taking another step forward.

Her resolve wavered but she ended up floating back in the end with a look of frustration. “I shouldn’t be here! This is the land of the living but I cannot get back.” She pointed an accusing finger. “Because of you.”

“When I pulled you out of that incoming attack?”

“I could have handled myself,” she insisted, fists balled tight. “Now I’m stuck here.”

Hal motioned to her. “You’re not really, are you?” Noting her ghostly appearance.

The Reaper stared at his hand as if it were a viper. “What are you doing here?” she asked, motioning to the area around them.

Figuring it probably wasn’t prudent to press a literal Reaper too far, Hal willingly let her lead the conversation away from his probing questions. “Potion supplies.” He motioned at the vines nearby.

“Just you and Ashera?” she asked.

Hal narrowed his gaze at her. “How do you know her name?”

The Reaper rolled her eyes. “I’m a Reaper.”

“Well,” Hal said, looking around and focusing on the Wortling’s Woodsense. Still no threats nearby, strangely. While they hadn’t been stalking him like before, there was almost always something out there. “If you want to join us, you’re welcome.”

The Reaper sniffed disdainfully, curling her lips at the invitation. “You couldn’t stop me if I decided to follow you. Nor if I decided to leave at a moment’s notice.”

Hal strode toward her, his eyes intent on the river beyond. “As you say. I’m only offering, you are more than free to do as you please. I would enjoy the company though,” he said over his shoulder as he passed the Reaper.

She floated at a constant distance from him, circling around and out of his path, wary at first and then with growing interest.

“You’re an odd one, Hal.”

That brought him up short. “Fair enough,” he admitted, turning on his heels to face her. “You got a name I could call you?”

Hal had meant it casually enough. She knew his name and apparently the names of his friends. Though he suspected she knew more than just Ashera’s name.

But the way the Reaper’s face contorted in a mixture of revulsion and fear sparked curiosity in him.

“Are you all right? I only asked for your name,” he explained, thinking that perhaps there was a cultural divide. “If you would rather, I could simply make up a name. I can’t very well keep thinking of you as Reaper.”

Her throat worked like she was choking. When Hal took a concerned step forward, she didn’t move away or break her gaze.

Something was definitely wrong.

Before Hal could begin to guess at her malady, she blurted out, “Nothricient!” As if she was compelled under torture to give up her name. Her golden eyes looked upon Hal with a mixture of fear and hatred. Confusion clear upon her face.

“Nothricient,” Hal said aloud, tasting the word. It had a nice ring to it. There was something sturdy and old about it that he liked.

As soon as he said the word, that thin golden tether appeared again. He only remembered seeing it once, immediately after he was resurrected. It reached out from Hal’s navel and stretched toward the Reaper, who promptly fled from it as if it were a monster. She dipped through the ground, came back up, danced among the trees, and even alighted upon the branches high above Hal.

Throughout it all, Hal was keenly aware of her presence and precisely where she was at any time even when he couldn’t see her. It wasn’t too dissimilar to the way he could sense the Wortlings.

Something was very different this time.

In a fit of worry, he checked his EXP to see if he somehow triggered Dominate on accident. He didn’t think it was possible, and his EXP confirmed it. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Eventually, despite her best efforts, the tether connected and drew her back to Hal. He had no idea what it was but he could tell Nothricient did. And it clearly disturbed her.

As the tether reeled in the Reaper, Hal felt his long-absent Ethereal Instability kick in again. It passed through him like a cold shiver and his hands were as ghostly as Nothricient’s had been.

When Hal looked through his hands at her, she was standing no more than five feet away. Not floating. Standing. For as ethereal as Hal had become, the Reaper had become just as corporeal.

Nothricient’s gold eyes bore into Hal’s brown, her voice barely a whisper. “What are you?”

58

“I don’t know what I am,” Hal said, just as surprised as the Reaper. The golden tether between them flashed and with a mental tug, Hal felt a wave of warmth wash out the coldness that settled into his bones.

When he looked down, they had switched states. Hal was solid once more, and Nothricient was once more translucent.

With a push, Hal could shunt whatever force it was that made him corporeal to the Reaper. And with a pull, he could take it back.

The applications were manifold. But it seemed horribly one-sided. He doubted the Reaper appreciated being forced to and from corporeality without her consent.

“I’m sorry,” Hal said sincerely. “I don’t know what… any of that was any more than you. Less, probably.”

Nothricient stared at Hal long enough for it to get awkward. She drifted forward until their noses practically touched. The hair on the back of Hal’s neck stood on end as she reached an ethereal hand toward him and poked his chest.

Her finger dove through the acid-eaten aketon he wore but stopped at his skin. They both looked at her finger then locked eyes. “Interesting,” she said, finally drifting back a respectable few feet.

Hal reached out toward the tether and passed a hand through it. He felt a soothing warmth. Like stretching his hand out into a beam of sunlight.

Seeing that Nothricient wasn’t going to elaborate further, Hal continued toward the river, his Wortlings Rooted a safe distance to the side still.

It wasn’t too hard to spot the lilypad-like things that idly spun clockwise in the middle of the river.

“You shouldn’t have been able to do that,” said the Reaper.

Hal took a few cautious steps back from the water’s edge, as a flash of light picked out a few slow-moving roots snaking out of the water. He wouldn’t have seen them if he didn’t know to look for them. “What do you mean?” he asked, keeping a sharp eye on the roots.

Your Perception has risen to Level 14.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+28%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+70%).

A few feet from the water’s edge they stopped, straining as if they had reached their limit. Hal judged the distance between himself and the creature. Close enough.

“Like binding me,” she said. Reaper or no, Nothricient certainly had a talent for responding at the worst possible time. Whenever his attention drifted from her and he tried to focus, she would reply.

She drifted up alongside him until they stood shoulder-to-shoulder. “Or force me to reveal my true name,” she continued. “None of that should be possible. You are no Necromancer, no Dark Knight nor Death Dealer. What little strangeness I felt in your soul hardly hinted at your capacity to bind a Reaper. How did you do it?”

Her words sounded like an accusation. As if he could simply tell her how he did it, and she could undo it. She acted like she had been tricked by a child.

“I don’t know how I did it,” Hal answered honestly, doing his best to keep his temper in check. The memory of the robed figures in the void launching an attack at Nothricient came to him, crystal clear. “When I grabbed you and pulled you away from the attack, my party must have revived me at the same time. Maybe you were brought with me in that same window?”

None of it made any sense to him. He hadn’t been sure he believed in an afterlife, it had all seemed so far in the future. Distant beyond thought.

But when it finally came for him, he didn’t find himself cowering from it as he thought he would. He had embraced it to save another’s life. Perhaps foolishly, but it was his life to give.

Eager to put the memories of his death behind him and finish his quest, Hal began casting his newly acquired Drill Branch. But he didn’t notice the roots that coiled like snakes to strike at him off to the sides until it was too late.

Halfway through the spellcasting, they struck.

Nothricient reached out to Hal and a shiver of cold rushed through him a hair’s breadth before three diving roots, pointed and twisted like drills in an odd mockery of his own fumbled spell, dove into his chest.

He expected a sharp burst of pain but he felt nothing.

Looking down, he understood. The Reaper, now corporeal, reached into the empty air beside her and a wicked black scythe appeared in her grasp.

She swept it down in a graceful arc, severing the roots cleanly. Three leaping strides brought the Reaper to the water and Hal felt the tether strain. He went along with it but found he couldn’t float through the air as she could.

His steps came sluggishly at first but they gained speed as the Reaper held her scythe above her head poised to strike. She brought it down, tracing a black line through the air and down into the floating disk. It warped and split the air with a dull pop.

The Waterwheel never stood a chance. It continued to spin in a clockwise rotation for a second before the imperceptible cut became clear and the two pieces split open.

Within the greater piece several smaller discs spilled out, Hal guessed that was what he was after.

Nothricient reaps the [Waterwheel Lily | Lv.18].

You obtain:

- 4 [Waterwheels]

- 1 [Living Root]

The lack of EXP and essence was strange, he supposed it was because Nothricient wasn’t technically in his party. But he felt it was something more than that. He doubted Reapers were common and he didn’t think it was precisely a Class that one could acquire.

Hal felt the warmth of corporeality steal over him again. The Reaper floated out of the water and to his side. “Do try to have a care,” she said. “You mortals are ever so fragile.”

He had no idea why she had saved him. He doubted the attack would have been fatal but he appreciated it all the same and told the Reaper as much.

She merely shrugged her dark armored shoulders.

The next Waterwheel Lily Hal came across he destroyed from afar with a combination of Drill Root and Bomb Toss. The thing never came close to hitting him.

As they turned back toward camp, Hal tapped Assimilation, restoring his MP from the Rooted Wortlings.

Hal instructed the Treant to go far and wide, creating as much havoc as possible and killing any monster - aside from his - that it came across. The lumbering giant stalked off, each step quaking the ground as it went.

It was too bad the gargantuan Treants weren’t able to fit through any of the exits to this place. There was something indescribable about sitting high on a Treant’s shoulder, raining death and destruction down on the monsters.

When Hal walked into the light of the campfire he found Ashera hadn’t been idle. She had several colored cloths rolled out around the edge of the fire with various herbs and ingredients strewn about. At their center, she had set up the alchemist vials of dragonglass she had shown him earlier.

Small ghost-blue flames danced from tiny disks situated beneath some of the bulbous glass containers, boiling the contents inside.

More of a shock to Hal was the group of Wortlings he left around the camp. Their black skin had hardened into rough bark-like armor and they had grown nearly two feet. They towered over him with oddly handsome angular faces. Their claws had grown into long curved daggers and their feet were firmly planted into the earth.

Ashera caught his curious glance. “Yes, they were quite a surprise when I returned. Do you have all the ingredients?”

“All but the water,” Hal said.

“I have seen to that.” She spread out ten faceted vials filled with water on to a maroon-colored cloth.

Hal emptied out the requested ingredients onto that same cloth.

Quest Complete: Alchemical Ambitions.

After a rocky start, you managed to acquire the requested ingredients and await your first lesson on the long road to becoming an Alchemist.

Objectives

- Acquire the following items:

- 5 [Witherroot] (Complete).

- 5 [Waterwheels] (Complete).

- 5 [Vials of Tree Sap] (Complete).

- 10 [Vials of Fresh Water] (Complete).

Rewards

- Unlock Alchemy Skill.

- Unlock Foraging Skill.

- 500 Experience Points.

- 100 Plantoid Essence.

The Plantoid Essence was a single allotment of 100 points that he was capable of allocating as he deemed fit.

Unlike the EXP he earned, it needed to be spent immediately. He couldn’t bank it until a later date. A glance over his shoulder showed the Reaper idling behind him about ten feet.

He thought back to when Nothricient had pulled him along. They had reached the end of the tether then. By Hal’s guess, the limit wasn’t more than fifteen to twenty feet.

He turned his attention back to the plantoid essence.

While he hadn’t fought a Planttrap himself, they hadn’t seen particularly strong. Treants on the other hand were devastatingly effective.

That alone made his choice for him. He dropped the entirety of the 100 plantoid essence into treant, bringing it up to 260.

He was only 40 more essence away from earning a new perk. A familiar notification greeted him as soon as he committed the essence.

[Monster Attunements]

Treant: 1

Barkskin 0/5

Cover your skin in a thick layer of regenerative bark.

Lv1: +5% Temporary HP (tHP), regenerates 1% per minute.

Lv2: +7.5% tHP, 2% per minute.

Lv3: 10% tHP, 3% per minute.

Lv4: 15% tHP, 5% per minute.

Lv5: 20% tHP, 9% per minute.

Rooted Stance 0/1

Draw upon the sturdiness of a Treant, increasing your resistance to movement effects by 50%.

Thorns 0/5

Every physical hit reflects a portion of the damage back at the attacker.

Lv1: 5% Reflect

Lv2: 7.5% Reflect

Lv3: 10% Reflect

Lv4: 15% Reflect

Lv5: 20% Reflect

Thorns sounded nice on paper, but without actual numbers, he wasn’t sure he wanted it. If he Leveled it up though, depending on how strong it was, he could see some good uses for it.

If it ended up being 1% of the damage dealt, it would be functionally useless. It wasn’t as if he could walk up to an incredibly strong monster, let it one-shot itself with an ultimate attack, and then respawn to claim his prize.

Not yet, anyway, he reminded himself.

Once he established a Manatree that might be a viable – if horribly cheesy – tactic. For now, even if it was 10% of the damage dealt, it wasn’t worth it.

Even though he now had enough HP that he wasn’t obliterated in a single hit, he still preferred not to get hit at all.

Rooted Stance looked good, a 50% buff to resistance to anything that moved him sounded awesome. But again, his deeper understanding of the mechanics made him question the use of it. If it only increased his current movement resistance, and if that was 2, it would increase it by 1 to 3 points.

If it was a flat increase, that would be different. In the end, it didn’t matter. Resistance to movement effects wasn’t nearly as powerful as adding tHP.

He opted to go with Barkskin. 5% tHP wasn’t very much but it regenerated over time and would give him some breathing room.

Hal tapped his Splice ability and channeled both shadow and treant essence to try out the new Barkskin trait. His skin became dry and craggy with deep striations that slowly raised over the next few minutes until it took on the appearance of rough bark.

And then it faded. He could still feel it but he no longer looked like a tree.

Oh man, that itches. His skin felt scratchy like he was wearing a bodysuit of rough, irritating wool. It wasn’t impossible to ignore but more than once he found himself scratching at his arm or leg to no avail.

What he found was surprising. Originally, he thought Barkskin regenerated 1% of its HP a minute. What it did instead was regenerate 1% of Hal’s HP a minute. And since the tHP was 5% of his total HP, it only took 5 minutes to fully regenerate his Barkskin.

Every minute he regenerated 3 tHP of his Barkskin’s total 15 HP. Of course, if he Spliced treant and aberration, it’d go up to 18. It had a nice synergy with aberration’s Sturdy Hide.

Before he could get even more sidetracked, Ashera’s voice brought him back to the present. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Ashera asked without looking up.

Hal froze, and though he knew she didn’t mean the Wortlings at his side, he found himself looking to them anyway. She couldn’t see the Reaper, could she?

When he didn’t answer her, Ashera turned her soft gaze toward him, then leaned to peer over his shoulder. Hal followed her gaze and saw the Reaper similarily shift uncomfortably.

She came forward with a black brow raised in Ashera’s direction. “You can see me?” Nothricient asked.

The way Ashera’s eyes tracked the Reaper answered the question.

Nothricient floated beside the fire and looked openly at Ashera. Hal didn’t miss the familiarity in the Reaper’s eyes but he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

The smile that quirked Ashera’s lips up was kind and genuine. “I’m Ashera,” she said. “But I expect you already knew that.”

“I did. You are not unknown to me.”

Ashera nodded, her pale hair and horns glinted in the firelight. Her eyes found Hal’s. “I want nothing more than to hear more about how this came to be but I honor my word above all. So, are you ready to learn some Alchemy, Hal?”

Hal sank into a cross-legged pose beside the Sin Keeper, adopting her posture. The Reaper wandered around, looking at the various ingredients but there seemed to be no recognition in her golden eyes.

“You are welcome to learn as well,” Ashera said, turning to include the Reaper.

Nothricient, surprised at the invitation, floated above Hal’s head and watched them both.

Ashera’s lips quirked into another smile.

“Okay, Hal. First of all, do you have Alchemists where you are from?”

“Not real ones at least,” Hal said.

“Woodworkers? Blacksmiths?”

Hal nodded.

“Good, so I am sure you are well aware of the various methods of crafting goods?”

“Not firsthand but well enough.”

Ashera tapped a long finger to her bottom lip, thinking. “The first thing you need is a recipe. Without one, you cannot do anything. You can try to discover a recipe but that is more often than not a waste of time and resources. Look here.”

From her inventory, Ashera pulled out a small scroll and handed it to Hal.

As soon as he took it, Hal unfurled the thin paper. At first, he was afraid he’d break it but it unrolled easily without tearing or cracking. He took in the symbols, drawings, and various scribbles. Surprised he could understand them.

The scroll flashed, rolled up, and snapped shut before his eyes could focus again. A prompt floated in front of the campfire.

You learn the recipe: [Health Potion].

CP: 10

Toxicity: 5

Effect: +100 HP.

Ingredients:

- 1 [Witherroot]
- 1 [Waterwheel]
- 1 [Vial of Tree Sap]
- 2 [Vials of Fresh Water]
- 10 [Sparks]

59

“Man,” Hal said, blinking rapidly. “I’ll never take that for granted.” From reading the scroll he learned not only what ingredients a [Health Potion] required but also how to make it.

He knew what temperature the water and witherroot needed to simmer at and for how long, how finely the root should be diced, and a host of other instructions.

The kind of understanding that would take days of studying and relentless practice.

Ashera bent down to the task of preparing the ingredients for the [Health Potion].

Without looking up, she said, “You should read the notification about Alchemy you just received.”

Hal was about to tell her he hadn’t seen any when he noticed the notification in the corner of his vision. How did I miss that?

You unlock Alchemy (Level 0).

Alchemy creates mighty medicines, potent poisons, and substances of supreme strength to imbibe or imbue renowned relics.

Crafting & Gathering Skills

Unique aspects of gathering and crafting that allow for the retrieval and creation of various goods. Crafting Skills utilize Crafting Points (CP) to perform work on a given recipe. Gathering Skills utilize Gathering Points (GP) to extract valuable resources from the world.

You unlock Foraging (Level 0).

The bounty of the land is ripe for the picking as a Forager. Whether it’s gathering wild resources found throughout the world or chopping down towering trees to extract valuable heartwood, Foraging allows you to gather the natural materials of the world.

Crafting was one of the things Hal loved most about games. Now, looking at the prospect of doing it by hand, he wasn’t sure if the allure still held up.

One of the reasons he liked it was because he didn’t actually have to go out in the wilds and pluck berries, mine ore, or chop down trees. Though he had to admit the allure of being able to gather his own materials was tempting. All the more because he still had that Improvised Crafting trait he hadn’t been able to explore yet.

And right then didn’t seem the best time to add in a [Vial of Slime Juice] into a precise alchemical recipe just to see if his trait would make it work.

Granted, they probably shouldn’t be crafting at all. It had been well over a day since the party was split up and so far they had seen no sign of the others.

Considering how massive the inside of Murkmire’s mountain was… Hal was beginning to lose hope. But Ashera said they needed potions to survive long enough to find them again. And if Hal could help and learn a valuable crafting skill, he was on board.

Nothricient was watching Ashera closely as she diced up the roots and dropped them into the first glass beaker. As they splashed into the boiling water, the clear liquid turned a violent, eye-wrenching purple.

Hal watched her work, amazed at the precision and speed at which she performed each of the necessary steps. She had a few alchemist sets going at the same time, one of them Hal knew was for him.

It was empty after all.

“How did you know I hadn’t read the prompt?” Hal asked, taking a free knife Ashera had set out and dicing up the [Witherroot] with ponderously slow, careful cuts. He knew what he needed to do and how to do it but still, his hands shook with a faint tremor as he worked. Too bad his 10 DEX wasn’t doing more good for his low Alchemy skill.

“You were not asking me questions,” she answered without taking her eyes off her work. “There is a lot to crafting and while I am far from a master, I was afforded a great deal of time to pursue Alchemy. And I would be glad if I could, in turn, use that knowledge to help you.”

“Well,” Hal said, carefully turning up the flame and adding two vials of [Fresh Water], “what is CP and GP? I know what they stand for but it didn’t make it abundantly clear.”

“CP and GP are both a generic representation of the work you can do in an hour. Did you notice the CP a Health Potion takes?” Ashera’s mixture had started to glow like a blacklight, signaling the next phase of the recipe.

“It takes 10 CP, is that a lot?”

“No,” Ashera said, “but then again you are not a very accomplished Alchemist so for you, yes. Thankfully, the [Novice Alchemist Sets] I have out reduces the CP cost. With the proper tools and setup, you can dramatically alter the amount of CP an item demands.

“Most of the time you require at least the basic tools. For example, you cannot perform alchemy without at least something to boil in. This is why a cauldron is often the symbol of Alchemy. The set you are using halves the CP cost for low-level potions.”

“So, in reality, this only needs 5 CP?”

“Exactly. It will still take you a couple of hours,” Ashera put in. “Even when you gain several Levels of Alchemy there is a minimum amount of time to make anything. You cannot instantly create an item. But, for instance, I can create a simple Health Potion in about a quarter of an hour with this setup.”

Looking between his sluggish, unsure movements, and over to Ashera’s confident swift and precise motions, Hal could see the gulf that divided them. She would be able to exhaust all of the ingredients they had procured – even the surplus – before he was finished with a single potion.

“Luckily, crafting allows people to work together. So you can assist me and still gain Experience toward your next Alchemy Level. I am already at the cap for this type of potion so I will not make it any faster but your help will also not slow me down, so there is no reason you should not help me after you add that root to your potion.”

While Hal worked with Ashera to create several [Health Potions], Ashera - in between guiding him and answering any other questions he had - created a few [Mana Potions] to aid in her healing.

CP and GP were both expressed per hour and they were unique to their respective skills. Hal’s Alchemy was at 2.63 CP/hr. Putting the creation of a single potion at just under 5 hours normally without the borrowed set he was using.

Ashera assured him that was normal and that he shouldn’t expect to make anything on his own until at least getting a few Levels.

To Hal’s dismay, neither sparks nor the EXP from his Discordant Stone could be used to enhance a crafting or gathering skill. The only thing that increased their Levels was hard work and study.

“When you are figuring out a new recipe or experimenting with new ingredients to an already known recipe, your CP no longer factors in,” Ashera explained.

“So it can take several times longer?” Hal asked, holding and swirling the flask away from his nose. The caustic fumes singed his nose hairs.

“Or much shorter,” Ashera added. “But you are also more likely to gain large amounts of Experience if you have an Epiphany. Which is a sort of-”

Hal chuckled. “I know what an epiphany is, Ashera. I assume by suddenly understanding a new way to make a recipe or a new ingredient to add, I can gain a burst of EXP similar to defeating a monster?”

Ashera’s eyes brightened and she nodded. “Very astute.”

Outfitted with several new potions, the two snuffed out the campfire and set off back the way they came. Hal was intent on finding a way back to the rest of the party, wherever they were now.

Returning to the chamber with those horrible creations seemed like their best chance. Ranging about in this freakish nature reserve wasn’t likely to yield any results.

They could wander about for days or weeks, and Hal bet they still wouldn’t see the other side of the reserve. He was certain their best bet was to try another of the doors in that disconcerting laboratory room.

The Reaper kept a lazy orbit around the group. On Hal’s suggestion, she used her keen sight to peer through the gloom where the Wortling’s Woodsense failed.

It didn’t take long for Ashera to bring up the topic of the Reaper, and how she came to be in Hal’s company. Hal recounted the tangled tale of their meeting in full. He was surprised when, after he finished with the tale, he received a notification.

Your Leadership has risen to Level 13.

+1% Party damage (+13%).

+2% Leadership efficacy (+26%).

They pressed through the forest, leaving the rivers behind and re-entering the region of towering black trees. Throughout it all, Hal only ever referred to the Reaper by her title or simply as Noth.

He felt that her full name was private. A careful glance in her direction showed the faintest nod of thanks for keeping her name to himself. At least, he thought it was a nod of thanks.

Rested up and with six stronger Wortlings added to his 3, the few creatures that rose to meet them were quickly put down with minimal losses. Unfortunately, one of the Wortlings - thankfully not Stumpy, who Hal had grown quite fond of and kept nearby at all times - was one of the “minimal losses.”

Between Ashera’s skill with her mace, and Hal’s near bottomless pool of Assimilation-driven MP, the few creatures foolish enough to cross their path fell swiftly.

Unlike Hal, Ashera could attack with impunity without ever incurring the strange vine lash that had taken Hal for a ride. He wasn’t sure why that was and when he asked, Ashera merely shrugged. She didn’t understand it any more than he did.

Hours later, well into the evening, they finally found their way back to the strange marker that Hal last remembered before he was taken for a ride in the sky.

It felt odd to Hal. The creatures they faced were much weaker than those that had first come after them. Everything that ventured out to cross their paths was no higher than Level 15. For the most part, the Wortlings tore apart any impending danger before it ever reached the group.

It felt staged. Opposition appearing only because it was expected but it was a show.

At first, Hal kept Vorax back from the fighting. But when a group of small scuttling creatures, like roots contorted into a spider’s body, slipped under the group’s defense, the mimic showed it was more than capable of defending itself.

While the small hand-sized creatures came at the group, a larger force pressed in from the north and east. Distracted, nobody noticed the Rootnids until it was too late.

They made a frantic, screeching keen that stole the strength from the group long enough that the tiny creatures could have shifted the tide of battle against them.

The Rootnids hadn’t expected Vorax.

Alone and unaffected aside from the Reaper, the mimic lashed out with half a dozen sticky purple filaments. Each one found a scuttling Rootnid. Opening his mouth, the mimic drew each of the vile creatures into its maw and snapped its chest lid atop them.

They were bothered no more.

The Wortlings, for whatever reason, didn’t trigger the distant whipping vines when they attacked. And neither did magic. But when Hal drew [Goblinbane] – careful to do so with his left hand – the vine shot out again and was once more repelled by the glowing barrier of the Founder’s mark.

Less than an hour later, they found themselves back in the room with the caustic nose-burning fumes and unsettling preserved bodies in their broken glass tubes.

The hairs on the back of Hal’s neck stood on end in this room and he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it. With the Wortlings by his side to compare, he noticed how different they were than the malformed creations that were unsettlingly immune to decay.

Just the other day, he thought they might be related. But with the two side-by-side, he couldn’t have been further from the truth.

The bodies troubled him beyond their gruesome, incomplete form. Idly, he wondered if he could Dominate them as he did the Wortlings.

He immediately dismissed the macabre thought, and as if fleeing from the possibility, turned down an aisle of shattered glass toward the nearest door. Without a look back, he passed into the next room.

It was shockingly cold. Filled with a maze of towering black obelisks etched with harsh runes that bent and twisted when Hal looked at them for too long. There was an omnipresent fog eddying around their ankles. The only light came from the glow of their Guild badges.

It was a tight fit with eight Wortlings. Made even worse because they were effectively blind ever since they left the forest. The first turn they came to, the Reaper tried to float through one of the tall tombstone-like obelisks and cried out, drawing both Hal and Ashera’s attention.

The Reaper stared nonplussed at the large chunk of angular obsidian. She raised one ethereal hand and pressed her palm flat against the stone. “I can’t pass through this,” she said, more to herself than either of them.

Ashera said nothing but she looked more worried than Hal had ever seen her.

The chill that crawled up Hal’s spine made his hand itch to hold the comforting grip of the [Goblinbane], but there wasn’t enough room to use it. Towering angular hunks of shiny black obsidian fenced them in on every side, with only a narrow path between them to navigate through the maze.

If he had to defend himself, it would be with magic. Not steel.

“Maybe we should go back,” Ashera said.

“Every place we go seems worse than the last. Do you really think that another door has anything better?” Hal asked, fighting hard to keep his mounting fear from creating a tremor in his voice.

Your Persuasion has risen to Level 5.

+1% Persuasion success (+5%).

+0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (+2.5%).

+5% Reputation gain (+5%).

-2% Reputation loss (-2%).

He didn’t even intend on persuading her. It was the simple, unvarnished truth. The next door probably would have been a pit into a Shoggoth den.

They walked on in silence. Each turn brought them back around in a winding path that was clearly designed to disorient and split up a larger force.

Even Nothricient seemed perturbed as she was forced to float behind Hal. She couldn’t get high enough over the blocks of stone, couldn’t squeeze between the half-foot gaps between, and the stones were just as solid to her as they were to Hal.

Once they reached the first crossroads, a tall thin spike marking the center, Hal’s nerves began to unravel. His feet were nearly rooted to the hard floor beneath the obscuring currents of fog. Hal fought hard not to turn tail and run.

He was so distracted by his internal battle that he didn’t notice Ashera had stopped only a few feet ahead of him. She stood in front of the spike, glittering runes carved all over its smooth surface.

Confused and more than a little concerned, Hal stepped up to Ashera’s side wondering what was wrong. She was staring at the ground as if she could see something.

As soon as Hal stepped alongside her, he understood.

The grayed out name of Elora flickered to life. Her HP was redlining.

<“Hal? Ashera, is that really you?”> her voice was raw with emotion.

60

“Bring it down!” Mira shouted from somewhere up above.

The Stone Golem had come alive with a rage that stole the breath from Elora. What was once a pile of unsuspecting gray rough-hewn stones assembled itself into the vague outline of a ten-foot-tall humanoid.

She barely managed to avoid the killing strike from the thing’s massive assembly of fist-sized stones that made up its arm.

Even that glancing blow launched her ten feet into the air as it rampaged toward the rest of her party. Mira had leaped into the air, predictably getting out of its range.

That would have been smart, had the golem not cast a slowing spell on her. A cube of rippling gel shot out of the creation’s arm and nailed the Dragoon dead center. Slowing her movements to such a degree that without any aid, she would be stuck for nearly an hour.

Or until the spell ran out.

Slowed, she hung thirty feet in the air, still gaining altitude with each second but at a fraction of her typical speed. In one casual enfeebling spell, the golem had the deadly Dragoon out of the fight.

Even if she eventually managed to resist the spell’s effect, the precious seconds that she was hanging uselessly out of range shifted the battle in favor of the hulking creation of stone.

Giel wasn’t quite as lucky.

He got his wide blade up in an awkward parry but the golem blasted the blade aside with a sidelong swipe. Its next attack took Giel straight in the stomach. The big lamora doubled over onto the fist, a spray of blood bursting from his lips in a harsh hacking cough.

Elora was up by then, nocking an arrow as she settled into a crouch and imbuing it with fire magic. Flames licked and swirled along the shaft’s length. She took a moment to get the creature in her sights and loosed the arrow.

Before the golem could get a follow-up strike on Giel, a flaming arrow blasted into the side of the thing’s head. As it turned to regard the threat, two more arrows - one of ice and one of wind - slammed into the thing, rocking it back onto its blocky heels.

And, most importantly, away from the wounded Giel.

Elora noted the impact of each arrow. Her keen eyes didn’t miss the way her wind arrow had scoured a deep groove across its many stones.

Now she had its full attention.

The Stone Golem thundered toward her with a speed that belied its half-ton weight. Made from an assortment of fist-sized stones, each etched with a rune that together gave the creature a simulacrum of life, a single golem was enough to take down double their number.

Lucky for Elora that her father had schooled her well on magical constructs. Arcana were the bane of more than one group of adventurers who had come ill-prepared to deal with such a beast.

The Ranger was up on her feet in a flash.

She cut a sharp route perpendicular to the charging behemoth. The worked stone floor trembled with each step of the ten-foot-tall creature. She fired one or two shots over her shoulder, more to keep the golem’s attention on her than to score any hits.

Each non-imbued arrow skipped harmlessly off its stony body as she had expected.

<“Only elemental and magical damage will harm it!”> she called to each of them. It was always a toss-up whether a golem could understand your language. The best precaution was simply not to find out. <“If you can find the runes etched onto each stone, break them or alter them and it will make the stone inert.”>

The other reason she used the party communication was that the golem’s thunderously heavy footfalls and her own labored breathing made anything other than party communication impossible to hear.

With plenty of room in the large chamber to maneuver, Elora felt confident she could keep the golem from landing a hit. Provided, of course, that the creature didn’t get a slowing spell on her.

She also knew that a single hit from the golem would likely spell her end. That single glancing blow took a tenth of her HP, dropping her to 462 HP.

Giel’s HP, as hefty as it seemed, had dropped a fifth from a single hit. The big man was still getting the wind into lungs that didn’t quite work.

With both her allies out of commission, Elora didn’t have many options but to keep cutting tighter and tighter turns to avoid the golem’s constant charges.

The golem lacked the Ranger’s agility but it more than matched her in raw speed. Elora’s only hope was to keep changing direction but that prevented her from landing anything more than a glancing blow.

Each wind-enhanced arrow cost her 12 MP. Hardly a drain compared to her considerable pool of 455. But when each arrow barely did more than chip at the rocky beast, she would need every arrow to find its mark if she wanted to destroy the magical runes etched onto each stone.

Something she couldn’t do while running for her life.

<“I don’t have any magic to tap,”> Giel said, finally regaining his composure. <“But I can imbue my blade with Fury.”>

From what Elora knew of Warriors, a Fury-enhanced strike would technically be magical but it would make Giel vulnerable. He was big and by far the slowest member of the party except for Hal. If he drew the golem’s full attention and Elora couldn’t convince it that she was a bigger threat, Giel wouldn’t last long.

Not while he was in an offensive Fury.

But it wasn’t like they had any better options.

<“Do it.”> Elora circled back around, bringing the golem hot on her heels. Only her superior agility and long bouts of training balance kept her on her feet as the golem’s weight shook the floor with every gaining step.

<“Wait until I pass.”> Elora poured all her effort into gaining a considerable lead on the golem as she sprinted past Giel. Skidding on her heels, she twisted around, a swirl of green wind encircling her drawn bow.

<“Any time you feel like contributing to the group, Mira, that would be great!”> Elora never took her eyes off the charging golem.

<“Yeah, thanks boss! I’ll get right on that, yesiree!”> Mira complained from high up above, still encased in the gelatinous spell.

The golem, predictably, recognized Elora as the prime threat. It paid the Warrior no more mind than it would a statue. Giel didn’t waste the opportunity. His Fury Gauge lit with orange flames. Curling orange-red mana swirled up his large sword and Giel gave a mighty sweeping cut with the blade.

Too late, the golem realized its mistake. It began to turn awkwardly mid-stride before Giel’s blade blasted the golem’s right leg into powder. Already off-balance, it crashed to the ground.

The burly Warrior was still in his initial strike as Elora let loose a Volley of wind arrows. They blasted into the struggling golem, each hit dug a small crater in its stone as the creature reoriented itself.

More than a few of its etched designs were ruined by the onslaught. Several stones dropped to the ground, suddenly inert.

As it rose to its newly reformed feet – taking several stones from elsewhere in its body during the process – the now eight-foot-tall construct turned to the nearest threat.

Giel was already moving. He followed through with a powerful overhand strike that carved into the golem’s back with a shockwave of Fury-laced mana. The thick stone floor cracked from the strength of that blow.

Wherever Giel attacked, dozens of the golem’s stones were smashed into rubble. But he couldn’t keep it up forever.

Giel was too close. He had overcommitted his last attack and the golem was recovering faster than he could.

Elora let loose an elvish curse and channeled wind and fire into her arrow, soaking the shaft with wind and infusing the fine metal tip with fire. She poured her mana in, watching Giel’s death rise up onto one knee, then the other.

Giel’s wide-eyed expression told her he knew his doom as completely as she did but could do nothing about it. He had expended every ounce of Fury for that last attack.

Any other creature would have been in too much pain to retaliate. But golems felt no pain. Physical damage was only an inconvenience.

<“Shut your eyes, Giel, and hold your breath!”> she called out in warning as she let fly her latest creation. A paper-thin barrier of unaspected mana separated the wind and fire mana, just enough to keep the arrow stable in flight.

Three more arrows of similar make leaped into the air behind the first.

Giel would be caught in the blast, but the resulting force should push the Warrior clear of the golem and remind the golem who its real target should be. She could only hope that the blast damage would be less than what the golem had in mind for him.

If only Taunt’s enmity effect would work on magical constructs, or else she would’ve used that Paladin ability instead. It was curious it worked on the Shadow Crawlers at all.

Right on cue, the first arrow cracked against the golem as it towered over Giel, ready to crush him into a fine paste. The impact caused the volatile elements to mix and then combust. The resulting rush of over-saturated wind and fire mana created an explosive ball of flame. Giel hardly moved more than a couple of feet from the resulting blast.

Elora winced when she saw the scorch marks running up the burly lamora’s arms.

More to her liking was the effect it had on the golem. It staggered back under the assault and nearly toppled. The three weaker arrows landed a second later, their explosive blasts pushed Giel farther away this time.

As she had intended, the golem forgot all about him.

Elora fired one final wind arrow at it and turned to cut across the room.

The golem had other ideas.

A syrupy cube of rippling mana appeared ahead of Elora. She prided herself on her speed and agility but it wasn’t enough. She crashed headlong into the slowing spell.

Her only advantage was stolen from her in an instant.

Everything slowed for the typically quick-footed Ranger. She watched as her arms and legs moved with a fraction of their normal swiftness. It was like trying to run in a dream, her mind screamed out its orders but her body refused to comply.

The golem bared down on her. She shut her eyes, bringing to her mind’s eye the smiling face of Ashera. If she was going to die, she wanted a friendly face to be the last thing she saw.

Pain drove the image out of her head and Elora’s eyes flew open as the golem knocked her from her feet with a sweep of its much smaller arm. Even smaller and weaker from losing so many of its stones, the Stone Golem packed a punch.

Elora went sailing through the air.

Her stunned mind clung tenaciously to consciousness. The golem would be on her again soon. She labored for breath. At least three of her ribs were crushed but she had been lucky. Her arm was unharmed.

Her mind screamed at her that something about this was important. Through the agony that wracked her lithe form, Elora began to sort it out.

As soon as the golem hit her, she was no longer slowed. “Some control spells are conditional,” her father had told her. “Often they require that the affected creature not be stricken, to do so breaks the bond of the spell. The pain gives just enough power to the afflicted to shrug off the spell’s effects. Have a care, Isila, when using such magicks.”

Hearing her father’s voice filled her with a sense of peace. Isila, he had called her, his “unbending flower” in his native dialect of elvish.

Through the haze of pain and her rapidly darkening vision, Elora sorted out a desperate plan. As she flew through the air, the Ranger nocked one final arrow.

She sighted the hazy form of Mira and let the arrow fly a fraction of a second before the air in her lungs was blown out from the bone-rattling impact against the stone wall.

Darkness closed in on her, narrowing her vision to a distant dark tunnel with the golem as its only focus.

The chamber resounded with a curse that she could hear even above the golem’s loud rush. Elora smiled through the blood that bubbled up into her mouth and spilled out onto her chin.

There was no need for the golem to attack her again but on it came. She recognized the signs of a punctured lung. It was an unfeeling, uncaring thing that would crush the life out of her before she drowned in her own blood.

Elora fought the blackness with every ounce of her considerable willpower. She accepted the pain. Let it wash over her. But she would not surrender her consciousness.

Never that.

Elora Othoril would walk to her death with eyes open and forward. But fate, it seemed, had other plans in mind.

The golem veered to the left ten feet out. Elora laid there, slumped against the stone wall like a doll with its strings cut, trying to figure out what was going on.

Forcing her eyes open, she began to sort out the strange images before her.

Mira was crouched upon the thing’s back. Her hands wrapped tight around her spear impaled into the golem’s back. She leaned heavily to the side, somehow managing to steer the thing away from Elora’s half-conscious form.

Elora’s gaze darkened again. Her eyes drifted shut as the pain began to ebb and all the strength bled out of her. The Ranger struggled to open her eyes again but couldn’t. Not even when a resounding crack, followed by a dull explosion sounded in the distance.

Chips and debris hit Elora from her side. They cut her exposed skin and gouged her hunting leathers but still, she could not open her eyes.

When she saw Ashera’s pale green eyes in the darkness of her mind, she knew peace.

Mira let out a whooping cheer and another rumbling explosion rocked the chamber, followed by Giel’s hearty bellow.

Pain, sudden and fierce, crashed into the Ranger like a battering ram. At first, she thought the end was near and braced herself.

Instead, a bright flare of ruddy light dazzled against her too-heavy eyelids. A bottle was pressed against her lips. She could barely taste the syrupy-sweet potion over the blood that filled her mouth.

61

The effect, as intended, was immediate. The potion brought her back from the brink. Elora’s flickering lifeforce was stabilized. While she was far from mended, consciousness – and with it, all the pain from her many wounds – came flooding back to her.

She grit her teeth against the pain. Fought through it.

Her mind tried to catch up and make sense of the scene unfolding around her.

Elora should have been killed. Crushed to death by a Stone Golem she had been too distracted to notice. Even if the now-dead golem hadn’t killed her, her punctured lung should have done the trick.

Giel crouched beside her, blood streaming from a wide gash in his forehead and dripping into his swollen eye. He had an empty potion bottle in his hand, with a wide, squat base like an ink jar. Marking it as a [Greater Health Potion].

That explains why I’m still alive.

Elora eyed the Warrior and gave him a curt nod of thanks. A grin spread across his friendly, battered face. [Greater Health Potions] were highly regulated goods. She shouldn’t have been surprised Giel had them.

Not after he shared the secrets of his past with them.

She had been mistrustful of the lamora from the start. But when he showed his family ties to the Founder Rebels, and after seeing the hoard of contraband he had hidden away….

There was no denying that he wanted to help. It was still hard to believe it was as simple as following an order his mother gave him, but ever since he saw Hal, the Tavernkeeper had been nothing but forthright.

Shaking her head, Elora tried to stand, but Giel laid one large mitt on her shoulder and kept her down. “Easy now, girl. Ya’ll took a right nasty spill, give the potion some time to work its magic will ya?”

The fight went out of her immediately. “All right. Thank you… Giel.” She forced the words out. The big lamora chuckled and in true Giel fashion, sat down next to her.

If Ashera was here, she’d tell me to stop being so ungrateful.

Ashera had seen more darkness, known more pain and misery than almost any living person. And still, the woman took it all in stride. She didn’t let it twist and darken her soul.

While she trusted Giel, her doubts about Mira were harder to dismiss. And they were consistently bolstered by the Dragoon’s battle prowess.

Elora shut her eyes and did a quick mental survey of her wounds. Nothing too serious, ribs that were bruised rather than broken.

Painful lacerations instead of worryingly deep cuts. And one hell of a concussion but nothing seemed broken. Just a lot of sprains, bruises, and several open wounds.

The potion brought her back. It didn’t cure all that ailed her. Not unless he had another [Greater Health Potion] in his bag. Not that she would have been surprised if he had.

In fact, Giel nudged her and offered another. Elora forced herself to turn it down. Not because of pride or mistrust. As a member - however distantly - of the Founder Rebels, Giel had her full confidence.

The only thing that concerned her was how well he seemed to know Hal. The keen-eyed Ranger didn’t miss how Giel knew the man when they walked up to his bar.

There was no reason for it that she knew. His story about a task given to him from his mother was impossible to fact check. But there was no mistaking that he recognized Hal. And since Hal only recently came to Aldim… something was off about that.

She had (secretly) tasked three of the Rangers to gather more information about Giel and his family. It wasn’t mistrust, but curiosity.

Despite the oddity, Elora did not doubt that Giel was genuine in his desire to help. But she was absolutely certain that he was holding something back about why he was helping.

And Elora needed to be sure. Of course, trapped down beneath Murkmire in ruined tunnels and strange storerooms meant she couldn’t get that information.

Giel pocketed the potion with a shrug and seeing Elora’s determined expression, got up and offered her his hand.

She accepted his aid. He pulled her to her feet easily and it was only his sturdiness that kept her on them. The room swayed as she stood up.

Mira, in typical gold elf fashion, was causing a racket and repeatedly defiling the Stone Golem’s corpse. That is to say, she was jabbing her spear and kicking at a pile of rocks.

“I’m okay,” Elora said to Giel, using one hand to brace herself against the wall. The big lamora let go but looked uneasily at her.

Alerted by the disturbance, Mira looked up from her poking. “Thought we lost you for a moment,” she said. Like Giel, Mira also sported a fair amount of superficial damage. Nothing some herbs and a long night’s rest wouldn’t cure, anyway.

Something they would need to go about setting up sooner rather than later. Her wounds would close up a lot faster with her Camping Buff active.

Using the wall as her guide, Elora made her way over to the golem’s corpse. Which, she supposed, had also become its cairn.

A quick look over her log informed her that it had awarded a hefty chunk of EXP. Not nearly on the level of the horrifying tumorous monster that inevitably separated the group, but 4,500 EXP was nothing to scoff at.

With what they gained in the tunnels getting to this room, it placed her within a few thousand of being able to hit Level 16 Ranger.

The loot was nothing special. At least not for Elora. Some [Pristine Mana Cores] that she could use when she tapped her MP, and an [Inscribed Rune] she couldn’t read. If Yesel were there, she would be able to read it.

Guess it’ll have to wait until we’re back with the Rangers.

Elora was used to the dangers of the wide world. She had seen the savage brutality of a Manastorm strip the skin from somebody unfortunate to be caught out in it without protection.

To her, dying one moment and then planning for the future the next was a matter of course. This was far from her first brush with the greedy clutches of death. While she didn’t court the Cold King, she certainly was no wallflower.

“We need to make camp,” she announced. “It’s late. We’ve been marching and fighting almost all day and we’re risking Exhaustion if we push on. We can camp in the corner over there and pile the golem’s stones in front of us.”

The Dragoon nodded her approval. She immediately began hauling as many stones as she could carry. Giel, however, looked at her nonplussed.

“Ya’ll mind explaining?” he asked.

Mira cut in before Elora could even open her mouth, “The golem was just a pile of rocks when we first came into the room, yah? So, we pile the rocks in front of our campsite and any creatures smart enough to understand what it is will leave it – and us – alone.”

Elora motioned to Mira, indicating her agreement.

“Well, all right then,” he said. “What can I do to lend a hand?”

Normally, Elora would have been insulted that somebody had suggested a Ranger needed help setting a simple campsite. But long days with Hal and his mix of ignorance and oddly refreshing desire to aid had tempered the fiery Ranger.

“Help Mira place the stones just over there,” Elora said, pointing to a spot on the floor ten yards from the corner that would be their campsite. “If you finish, rest by the fire.”

The big lamora nodded and scooped up dozens of the golem stones, lugging them over to where Mira had started her the pile.

In short order, they had the golem resituated, a campfire built, bedrolls laid out, and a meal going. The food was nothing fancy, a hearty [Root Stew] that would go a long way to helping them recover throughout the night.

Not to mention, as a Ranger, Elora’s Camping Buff was one of the best around. She could practically see their HP bars filling up. And that was no small feat.

You eat the [Root Stew].

+35% HP Regeneration.

+15% SP Regeneration.

Duration: 6hrs.

You gain the effect of Camping.

+340% HP Regeneration.

+340% SP Regeneration.

+340% MP Regeneration.

+170% Healing effects.

Duration: While Camping.

While they ate, Giel and Mira bantered about, occasionally trying to rope Elora in as well.

The Ranger stayed focused on her task. She rooted around in her herb bag, looking for the wide leaves, large pink flowers, and thick roots of [Falsifal]. She also pulled out a jar containing several desiccated, yet oily, leaves.

While Giel and Mira talked and ate, Elora set a pot of water among the coals of the fire and prepared three cups for tea. Alchemy was great, but among Elora’s most treasured skills she had learned at her father’s side was Foraging.

Utilized properly, natural ingredients could be made to heal almost any affliction. They could speed the mending of broken bones, torn flesh, savage burns, and even fugue states. It required only a deep knowledge of plants and their proper preparations.

Most of what could be Foraged was also very useful for Alchemy, but there was a lot that Elora could do with [Adder’s Tongue], [Agrimony], and [Falsifal] without the need to brew a potion. And that’s where Elora’s Herbalism skill came into play.

[Falsifal], for example, was found in the forests and plains. When the root was pulped, it was an effective cure against fresh burns, practically reversing the damage overnight. If instead, the roots were cut and the gelatinous insides were squeezed out and then added to a tea, it countered blood loss.

Many herbs did not directly add HP like a potion might, but Elora had learned the truth about Herbalism – a sub-skill of Foraging – just as her father had before her. By taking care of the most egregious hurts, the body would recover faster. Freed from dealing with burns and poisons, a person would recover their HP faster.

All without the need for potions or medicines that often had a cost. You couldn’t chug one potion after the other without risking several nasty side-effects.

Toxication was a very real threat. More than one brave fighter died thinking they could hold off a horde of beasts by swigging one potion after the other in a defiant stand.

As Elora was halfway through making their tea, she felt Mira and Giel’s eyes upon her.

“What’re you making there?” Mira asked, leaning her lithe body too close for comfort as she tried to peek into the cup.

“Falsifal tea,” Elora answered. “It’ll help us recover while we sleep.”

The Warrior and Dragoon looked at each other curiously, then at Elora. Something had shifted in their demeanor but she couldn’t fathom what it was.

There was a softening around their eyes. The wariness she usually expected when she offered herbal remedies melted away. In a cruel twist of fate, her Leadership was decent but her Charisma was quite poor.

It wasn’t uncommon that people would sometimes react quite violently to her orders. Even more so when she expected them to drink a tisane.

Discomfited, the Ranger bent back to her task. Boiling water poured, she produced a few crumbled leaves of [Ceran], a hardy shrub that grows in the northern reaches. While they didn’t need to ward off the cold – as was the tea’s primary benefit – Elora liked the slight citrusy tang of the brew.

It also masked the bitter flavor of the [Falsifal].

Cups handed out, Elora went back to preparing the [Adder’s Tongue], and the [Agrimony]. Each, when applied to a wound, sped up healing.

[Adder’s Tongue], named for its forked leaf appearance growing from a single stalk, was a powerful anti-septic. And if the wound was not infected, it healed in half the time.

[Agrimony], on the other hand, was ground into a poultice and applied to bruises. A single application would rid even the most severe bruises overnight. Most within a few hours.

In Elora’s experience, people preferred the easier option of potions. They were often flavored – sickly sweet to the Ranger’s palate – and most would imbibe them with little concern for their quality or age.

But when you tried grinding up well-prepared, but foul-smelling or tasting natural ingredients, everybody turned up their nose at it.

So, it came as a surprise to Elora when both Mira and Giel openly accepted the acrid-smelling bandages she had soaked in [Adder’s Tongue] and [Agrimony] respectively.

Neither uttered a word of complaint, even though Elora hadn’t bothered to mask the sharp bite of the [Agrimony].

Each of them took turns watching for three hours while the others slept. Rather, they should have. Instead, Mira and Giel simply failed to wake the Ranger for her shift.

In a group of three, a typical night would last about nine hours. Each member taking a three-hour-watch, and then resting for six. Mira and Giel had opted for a longer rest of ten hours, with the pair taking a five-hour-watch.

Elora slept through without stirring once.

When she awoke for her watch, Mira shook her head and tried to speak around a jaw-creaking yawn. “Sorry,” she said, once it was through. “But you looked so tired. We decided to let you sleep. How do you feel?”

She should have been furious. Not only had the two made a decision without including her, but they also set the group back by at least an hour if not more. An hour that Hal or Ashera might not have.

She should have been furious… but she was not. Warmth spread throughout her chest and she nodded her silent thanks. Her long rest, coupled with the benefits of Herbalism, brought each of them back to full fighting strength.

You gain the effect of Well Rested.

+2.4% Experience Points gained.

+2.4% Skill Experience Points gained.

+2.4% HP | +2.4% SP | +2.4% MP.

+2.4% HP Regeneration.

+2.4% SP Regeneration.

+2.4% MP Regeneration.

Duration: 10hrs.

Unable to suffer more time wasted, the Ranger broke camp quickly and set a hard march back into the tunnels. They ate dried rations and drank from waterskins as they went.

By her estimation, if they marched through breakfast they could make up for the lost time. If nothing stopped them or came to fight them, they might even gain some time back.

Too many “ifs” for the Ranger.

62

Elora’s finely-tuned senses told her that something was wrong. They had traveled for most of the day without meeting any opposition. Much to Mira’s disappointment.

It was one of the worst possible traps to fall into. And one that Elora personally knew killed more people than anything else. The carelessness that came from the lack of battle.

Some people snapped and saw monsters in the dark. Others grew lax and when danger came, they were unprepared. In both events, the outcome was disastrous. Not to mention how mentally exhausting it was to stay on guard so long.

The tunnels no longer held cunningly worked traps. Most of them were roughly hewn at best and in many places seemed to exit into naturally formed passages and caverns with glowing lichen.

Throughout it all, Elora sensed something following them. A presence that she couldn’t shake.

They walked in the light of their Guild badges. The interior of Murkmire’s mountain was surprisingly hollow. Almost as if it had been filled with something at one point and drained.

There was no rhyme or reason to the wild tunnels that snaked back and forth. The only thing Elora could tell for certain was that they were winding deeper toward the heart of the mountain.

If there was any hope of meeting up with Hal and Ashera, it would be by delving deeper into the mountain. The pair had fallen a great distance. Ashera should be leading Hal up in a bid to cross Elora’s path.

Expansive, lightless caverns stretched their gloom in every direction. In the distance, Elora could make out the rush of water and a strange burbling sound that she could not identify.

It definitely was not water.

“I lived here all my dang life,” Giel said in awe as they stepped onto a long and narrow leap of stone over a black chasm. Even though Elora and Mira had gone ahead to make sure it was safe, he edged his way with more care than was necessary. “And never could I have guessed that all this was below my feet.”

Elora agreed with the sentiment. At first, she wanted to blame the Founder. But something about the places they were traveling through now didn’t fit what she knew of Rinbast.

The deeper they went the older everything felt. Ancient and unknowable. She would not have been surprised to learn that these areas hadn’t tread upon in centuries.

Did the people of Murkmire have any idea what secrets lurked beneath their very feet?

As they passed along the narrow bridge of stone, Giel stopped abruptly. Already behind by several yards, the Warrior looked around deeply perturbed.

“What is it?” Elora asked, trying to reign in her temper.

“I can’t see where we came from,” he said.

That was obvious. They were in a large chamber, perhaps the largest yet. Where Elora stood she could see neither their exit nor the tunnel they entered from.

But there was something in Giel’s voice. A tremor that seemed out of place in such a deep baritone. “What is it?” Elora asked, pausing, and looking back.

“How ‘bout we go back the way we came?” he offered, eyes darting all about.

“Holy cow,” Mira said with a snorting laugh. “Are you afraid of the dark?”

“No, that’d be ridiculous!” Giel countered.

Elora watched him a bit longer. She was far from an expert on people, though. She preferred the wilds and the untamed lands to a person any day. Animals made far more sense to her than people. But she recognized the signs of fear easily enough. It was always the same, no matter the species.

“Heights,” Elora said at length.

Giel crossed his arms in front of his wide chest but didn’t bother to refute the claim.

“How can you be scared of heights!” Mira asked, throwing her arms wide. “You live on a friggin’ mountain, Giel.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s a big town. I don’t go out of the Gone Goose much and when I do it’s… to the same places. The buildings are tall y’know….”

“Please tell me you’re not going to entertain this course,” Mira said to Elora.

The Ranger held up a hand to her and looked back at Giel.

She had some skill in Leadership and knew well enough that forcing people past things like this could backfire. She didn’t know Giel well enough to make the judgment call.

Just as she was about to order they backtrack and find another way around, that creeping sensation that never seemed to relent struck.

It came as a doughy tidal wave of oily black flesh that rose from the depths and crashed into the bridge just behind Giel.

The flesh sagged and flopped over the surprisingly sturdy stone bridge. Their way back was severed as surely as if it had broken beneath the creature’s assault.

A series of mouths ripped open like torn sutures all along its inky blackness. Elora recognized it immediately as a much larger, angrier version of the creature that had nearly killed them all.

It was a Shoggoth. Not a Shoggoth Spore, but the creature from which the spore had budded.

“Run!” Elora commanded, and shaken from their stupor, her friends heeded the call.

Even Giel, frightened as he was, didn’t look back as they all made a mad dash forward. The stone beneath their feet rumbled and vibrated. Elora whipped her bow off her shoulder and fired a few stray arrows into the darkness.

The resulting multitudinous cry froze the blood in her veins and shook the very roots of the mountain. It hinted at a creature larger than she could comprehend.

Giel had stopped in his tracks and so had Mira. Elora recognized the magical force imbued in that cry. She could have left them. At one point, she would have. It was the wiser choice. But that person was her mother’s daughter.

The conniver. The ruthless, rootless wanderer.

In short, her mother.

The same woman who had sold her and Hal out as soon as she had the option. She was still surprised that her mother had bothered to heal him before doing it. A snarl ripped out of Elora’s throat and she pushed off the old selfish impulse.

Nocking an arrow, Elora cut a line across Giel’s forearm, drawing him out of the fear that rooted him. She twisted on the spot and let fly another arrow at the Dragoon. The fear released its grip on her as soon as the pain broke through and they were all running again.

Ropey strands of inky darkness emerged from the depths and crawled after them. More tentacles dangled down from the impossibly high ceiling. Elora feared that they were in the belly of a full-grown Shoggoth.

She hadn’t missed that the creature they had previously faced was nothing more than a spore. A trunk-thick tentacle crashed onto the stone bridge, sending spiderwebbed cracks across its surface.

Less than ten yards off, Elora’s fear was confirmed. Mature Shoggoth Tentacle floated in the air above the appendage.

In all her years, from all her studies, Elora had only heard rumors that some creatures were so impossibly massive that their limbs had their own pools of HP, SP, and MP.

Nothing she could do would slow it but the Ranger refused to give up without a fight. They continued their frantic rush, all the while Elora fired Radiant Burst arrows at the thing. They flared with bright flashes of light that were soon swallowed by more dark flesh.

Unlike the Shoggoth Spore, the Mature Shoggoth was aggressive to the extreme; but they managed to use its massive bulk against it. They were small and while the bridge made them an easy target, their smaller forms carried them faster than the bulky creature could rise from the depths. With so much mass, it was struggling to rise up ahead of them.

As soon as it managed to do so, they were dead.

A dark tunnel reared up ahead of them. Mira leaped the remaining distance to the rocky shelf and twisted about to face a tentacle that raised up from an oil-slick rock to her left.

The Dragoon parried the blow. Her boots ground against the stone and her heels hovered over the edge. Mira kept her nerve and returned the attack two-fold. Elora lent her strength to the Dragoon, firing a triple-shot of Radiant Burst into the tendril that emerged from the stone.

Flashes of bright light mixed with blue streaks of azure mana. It shouldn’t have been enough to topple the tentacle. But Elora didn’t question the win. She was desperate to get out of the chamber.

Mira turned and fled into the tunnel. Elora took three long strides until she understood the truth behind the Shoggoth’s sudden disinterest in them. Giel’s HP flashed and the bridge vibrated from another colossal impact.

Behind them, Giel had stopped to face the Mature Shoggoth.

In the Warrior’s illuminating Guild badge, the creature was beyond massive. It reared up, a wall of onyx flesh filled with countless bloodshot eyes as large as house doors. Its gibbering mouths ripped wide, ragged holes filled with gleaming ivory teeth.

Whip-thin appendages swayed about in the air. Each tipped with a series of hooked bony protrusions. Without warning, dozens of the cruel tentacles crashed down into the Warrior.

The bridge shuddered beneath the blows.

Giel parried and swept his greatsword across with as much skill as she had seen anybody wield such a massive blade. But there were too many. For every one that he fended, three more hooked pseudopods found their mark.

Elora was amazed that the Tavernkeeper had managed to stand against the attack. Red motes of defensive energy rolled around him but they weren’t enough. A collection of emptied, glittering crystalline vials littered the stone bridge at his feet.

His HP swayed one way then the other as he guzzled one potion after the next, heedless of the toxic effects from imbibing too many at once.

<“Go!”> Giel cried.

<“Wait, what’s the idiot doing now?”> Mira asked, as the situation became clear to her. <“Giel you get out of there right now!”>

He couldn’t even if he wanted to now, Elora realized. Giel’s distraction wouldn’t last long. With the way the Shoggoth seemed to squeeze into the tiniest cracks, the tunnel ahead was thin protection.

Giel, the suspiciously kind Tavernkeeper, had come to the same conclusion Elora did just then. He had understood before her what needed to be done if they were to have any chance of getting out.

With a twinge of guilt for thinking the hulking lamora was dim, Elora turned and fled.

She would not waste his sacrifice.

<“Thank you, Giel,”> Elora said, her voice raw with sudden fondness and loss.

She nearly collided with Mira as the Dragoon came out of the tunnel. Elora grabbed her arm and ran for all she was worth. The chamber behind them filled with the disjointed screams of a million mouths.

As the two women fled, Elora couldn’t pull her eyes away from the only proof of the man that remained. She stared at his name, his rapidly shrinking HP. Giel’s HP took one final nosedive.

Maybe it was because he wanted to spare their feelings or like so many other animals, he wanted to die alone. Whatever the reason, Elora felt like somebody had punched her in the gut when the prompt flashed across her vision with one final whispered message.

<“Ma, I did all I knew how. It’s up to Hal now, I reckon. I hope you’ll be proud of me.”>

Giel has left the Party.

They barely had enough time to register the meaning of his words before the Shoggoth reached into the tunnel after them. Tendrils snaked out from the porous stone around them. Countless oily tentacles squeezed out from cracks no wider than Elora’s pinky.

The tunnel forked ahead and as one, the pair broke to the left as the right passage collapsed. They ran with everything they had. With her long legs, Mira easily outpaced the Ranger.

Swirling wind wrapped around Elora’s ankles as she tapped her Windwalk ability. Her feet barely touched the stone floor. She paced herself, bringing her quickened stride in line with Mira’s.

She wasn’t going to lose another.

The Dragoon’s face was contorted into a tortured grimace. Tears streaked a beautiful tanned face better suited to laughter and smiles. They fell and glittered in the air, bright and beautiful. Jewels in the dark that were gone too soon.

Just like Giel.

But as a twisting tentacle appeared to split the narrow tunnel ahead of them, the grief turned to rage. Elora felt, more than heard, the snarl that ripped up through Mira’s throat.

The constant quaking and percussive force of the Shoggoth trying to collapse their tunnel was nearly deafening but Mira’s shout of denial rose above it.

Elora got there before the Dragoon. She sent a Radiant Blast into the tendril before the Dragoon took three long strides.

The tentacle split down the middle and like a toothless maw it bit down on the arrow mid-flight. The tendril retracted with blinding speed and the dull thump of the explosion told Elora that she had done what the Shoggoth couldn’t.

Elora realized the truth too late. The Shoggoth had tricked her. The ceiling ahead cracked and shifted precariously from the force of her arrow’s explosion.

The tunnel fractured around them and Elora poured on every ounce of speed she could get out of her Windwalk.

When she passed Mira, she slung her bow over her shoulder and gripped the Dragoon’s hand, once more dragging her along. If their escape was cut off they were as good as dead.

Better to risk being buried alive than to turn back and face the questing tentacles of that abomination.

They didn’t see the tentacle again as they stepped onto the shifting, disturbingly fluid cracked stone floor. A hundred oily feelers sprang from every crack and fissure in the rough stone of the tunnel.

It was squeezing into every space it could and widening the cracks. The tunnel wouldn’t last long.

Elora pulled on Mira’s hand with all her might and heaved her forward, shouting, “Jump!”

The Dragoon heeded her the only way she knew how. She Jumped. It wasn’t quite what Elora had in mind. Her arm was nearly jerked out of its socket as Mira rocketed down the tunnel at a blistering pace.

The feelers vanished into the stone a heartbeat later. The tunnel suddenly shifted. It split down the middle. Like a broken pipe with no support, the tunnel ahead tilted down at a dangerous angle, taking the floor out from beneath their feet.

Half a dozen tons of rock bounced and chased them on the descent, promising death.

63

Elora had all she could manage just keeping ahead of the encroaching thunderstorm of dust and debris. Sharp stones bounced and cut against her skin as effectively as any blade.

Mira was worse off.

The Dragoon had Jumped with her supernatural skill just as the tunnel had broken and tilted down. Her angle was all off and though she dragged Elora along, Mira hit the sloping ceiling first.

Her impact softened the blow for the Ranger, who managed to twist about and place her feet against the ceiling. In one smooth feat of exemplary acrobatics that nobody would ever witness, Elora scooped the unconscious Dragoon, sprang from the ceiling and sprang to the flood of rolling debris below.

Somehow, she managed to right herself and she hit the first chunk of shifting stone upright with Mira still in her arms.

She spared a single look at her, glad she was only unconscious. Not dead. Scales of her armor were fractured and many were missing entirely. Her spear was nowhere to be seen.

The dust of the collapse rolled past them just as Elora caught sight of the end. With her burden increased, the Ranger couldn’t hope to outrun the avalanche behind her.

So long as she carried Mira, she knew they would both be buried beneath tons of stone before they ever got near the exit.

There was only one option available to her.

Elora squeezed Mira tightly to herself and muttered the incantation to a spell she prayed would work. The shimmering shield of Redoubt appeared around her like a bubble. Elora tucked her feet and cradled Mira to her, glad she wasn’t awake for the intimate embrace.

With the shield rapidly draining her MP, they bounced down along with the tons of rock. The spell had no hope of sustaining itself if the full weight of the collapse came upon them.

Elora could only tuck herself into as tight a ball around Mira as possible and pray the shield would be propelled down and out of the tunnel ahead of the worst of the deadly debris.

Through the gloom of the dust swirling all around, Elora spotted the exit. At first, she didn’t understand what she was looking at.

Then it hit her and she cursed. She had hoped for another cavern, one that they could roll to the side or somehow get ahead of the collapsing tunnel.

Instead, the broken tunnel emptied out of a ragged hole on the verge of collapse itself and into a dark pool of what she desperately hoped was water. If it was another part of the Shoggoth… she didn’t want to think about what would happen.

Feet from the jagged exit the tunnel had broken open, the Redoubt shield vanished and pain struck the Ranger from every possible angle. The fractured opening bit into her shoulder like the fangs of a giant monster. Hot lines of agony stole her breath away and then she was launched into the air.

The shifting glitter of reflected light gave Elora enough of a warning to take one final gasp of breath before she barreled into the water. The force of the impact felt like being hit with a sledgehammer wrapped in sandpaper.

She fought against the urge to gasp in pain and with one arm looped around Mira’s middle, she kicked and swam as fast as she could, going deeper still.

Percussive impacts, dulled and muted by the cushion of water above her, told her that she narrowly avoided the avalanche that surely would have killed them both. She swam on with every ounce of strength she had.

But Elora wasn’t much of a swimmer. Her lungs burned like fire, forcing her to the surface sooner than she would have liked. It only occurred to her after breaking the surface that Mira couldn’t consciously hold her breath.

As she kicked her feet, propelling the pair farther away from the splashing rocks, Elora checked Mira for signs of life. She sighed in relief when she felt the elf breathing.

After they reached the dark, muddy shore, Elora collapsed. Her cheek against the sticky mud, panting and with a thousand injuries. The disturbed lake lazily lapped its dark waters over the pair but Elora was beyond caring.

The dark claimed its due, and Elora knew no more.

When she woke, everything hurt. Worse, was the Exhaustion Debuff she gained from passing out on the shore of a frigid lake. Her fingers oscillated between pain and numbness.

One look at the Dragoon nearby showed that she not only hadn’t woken up the entire night but also had a Level of Exhaustion. Neither of them would be passively regenerating their HP until their Exhaustion was gone.

Grumbling, Elora dragged herself to her feet and pulled the Dragoon with her. It took a very long time. Hours at least, where Elora kept dropping Mira’s arm as she dragged the lithe elf along the muddy ground.

Eventually, the mudflats that bordered the shore of the dark lake gave rise to cold, hard stone. But the cavern was still too large for Elora’s tastes to set up a fire.

Elora didn’t know how long they wandered about in that massive cavern. She went in and out of a fugue state, barely clinging to consciousness. It took her several long moments before she realized that the Ashera’s name had changed from gray to white.

Her voice was stolen by the sudden realization that Ashera was close enough that her party information was updated. Hal’s information flashed and updated as well a moment later.

The voice that came out felt strangled and harsh.

<“Hal? Ashera, is that really you?”>

<“Elora! Where are you?”> Ashera asked.

The Ranger looked around. It was the same rocky expanse of nothingness in all directions.

<“I... don’t know. I’m going to get a fire going so we don’t freeze. Are you both okay?”>

<“We are fine,”> Ashera said as soothingly as possible.

There was a long pause as Elora dragged Mira along in search of a level section of stone to set up the campfire. Once she found an area, she dropped the Dragoon’s arm and got to work.

With numb, fumbling fingers Elora dropped her [Firestone] more often than not. She cursed and picked it up half a dozen times until she gave up and laid it on the cavern floor.

<“Elora?”> Hal asked.

<“Yes, Hal?”> She struck the [Firestone] with her silvered dagger, sending flaming arcs of magic that ignited the assembled dried wood. It took Hal a while to find his voice.

She couldn’t be sure, but she imagined him searching for a way to ask her about Giel. It would suit her just fine if he never asked her.

She glanced at the party menu, keenly noting his absence. Once more she felt the weight of guilt in the pit of her stomach.

Elora had doubted his intentions, or at least his reasons. She even doubted his intelligence. But in the end, he was the only one to realize the true danger they were in.

And the only one willing to do what was necessary.

After a long pause, the question she dreaded finally came. <“Where is Giel?”> Hal’s voice held a tremor of emotion. He clearly thought something was wrong. The picture her newly appeared status would paint was a grim one.

For all his failings, Hal truly cared about those around him. She still didn’t understand how he did that. That blind faith and compassion would get him killed one day, Elora was sure of it. And yet, she was envious of his ability to connect with people so readily.

<“He’s dead.”> Best to rip the bandage off immediately. <“He held the bridge long enough for Mira and me to make our escape. We… woke something up. A fully mature Shoggoth. It was massive.”>

<“Heaven forfend,”> Ashera whispered in horror.

Hal’s weary sigh came loud and clear through their connection. <“I’m so sorry, Elora.”>

The fire caught and began to lick hungrily at the seasoned wood. There was no reason to bother with a stone ring.

The Ranger sat down, warmed her hands by the welcoming heat of the fire, and thought through the next moves she would need to make. Mira was still unconscious, her HP even lower than hers.

She dragged the elf closer to the fire.

An errant thought passed her by and she felt a stab of guilt for wondering how many potions Giel had taken to his grave.

Potions they sorely needed.

Even with the collapse, a creature of that size would find a way to get to her.

In fact, she was astonished it hadn’t destroyed the entire town of Murkmire. Then she thought better of it. They had found more than a few monsters down in the honeycombed network of tunnels in the mountain.

The Manatree’s protection must not reach down this far, she reasoned. Even still, it didn’t mean the Shoggoth couldn’t escape the bounds of Murkmire and emerge in the surrounding hills.

<“We are north and above you. Elora, how did you get below us?”> Ashera asked.

It was ironic that they somehow managed to fall below Hal and Ashera. If the tunnel hadn’t collapsed, would they have found a straight path to the pair?

There was no use in wondering about something that might have been.

Elora crawled to Mira and pulled her even closer to the warmth of the fire, chafing the elf’s goose pebbled arms. She held the tanned girl in her arms and gently rocked her back and forth in front of the soothing heat of the flames.

As much to warm the unconscious Dragoon as to get some much-needed comfort for herself.

<“Are you okay? Is Mira okay?”> Ashera asked when she didn’t reply to her last question.

A thin smile graced Elora’s lips. She knew Ashera didn’t mean physically. One look at their HP was enough to determine that they were emphatically not okay.

<“We’re… okay, all things considered. But without a potion, I don’t know how far we’ll get. So far nothing has attacked us. I don’t know how long that will hold. We’re camping in the middle of the cavern. I can’t even find a wall.”

Even when she took care of their many hurts, they would be days on the mend without magical aid. Several of the wounds they suffered would hamper their natural regeneration unless they were fixed. Her store of herbs would cut that, perhaps, in half but that was still more time than they had to regroup.

<“That’s… ironic,”> Hal said.

<“How so?”> Elora asked.

Hal explained how they were worried about being separated from the group and decided to get ingredients – which were not typically easy to come by – for a batch of new healing potions.

Potions, they had yet to use.

Elora agreed with him, the irony was thick indeed. Giel had chugged a small fortune’s worth of potions to buy them enough time to flee the Shoggoth.

While Ashera – a skilled healer - and Hal were sitting on a small trove of unused potions. All the while, Mira and Elora were redlining under 7% HP each.

Their HP bars flashed the customary red warning. A bright stretching line of ruddy light indicating the sliver of HP they had remaining, thus the name.

Ashera, in typical fashion, kept up a stream of dialogue to keep Elora’s mind off the reality in front of her. She couldn’t believe how much had happened so fast.

She didn’t know Giel very well - though she wished she did, now - but she still found herself muttering a prayer to the Wild Gods for the safety of his soul and to ease his passing.

I hope your mother looks on you with pride, Giel.

He deserved more than that and she swore that when she returned to Murkmire, she would do something befitting the lamora’s memory.

At the very least, she would go in and clear out that back room. The last thing that she wanted was to besmirch his good standing in Murkmire by having the authorities find a secret room filled with contraband and subversive documents.

They missed their rendezvous with the Rangers. Angram and Yesel weren’t known for their patience. She had given the two explicit instructions to dig in and make a more permanent encampment should they be gone more than a day.

It had definitely been longer than that, though Elora was fuzzy on just how long considering her recent injuries.

The Ranger bandaged and tended to their wounds as best she could. Poultices and salves were made, tea was brewed but for all her skill in Herbalism, Mira still remained unconscious.

A younger Elora would have left the Dragoon.

She was hiding something. Elora was sure of it. And now that she could no longer bring her considerable skill to bear, the woman was a hindrance. She should have left her. But she could not.

Not with Ashera’s voice in her ear. And not when she looked at her father’s ancestry so clear on Mira’s elegantly beautiful elvish features. High cheekbones, plump lips, long legs, and wide hips all wrapped around a bubbling personality that had the typically dour Ranger on the edge of laughter.

Being with the Rangers was nothing like being around Hal, Ashera, and Mira. The Rangers were self-sufficient. They assigned tasks to appropriate members, and then went about to achieve them separately or in small groups.

The Rangers, for as much as she enjoyed their company, were fiercely independent people. She hadn’t realized how much she longed for honest companionship until Hal crashed into her life.

For all his bumbling ways, he opened her eyes to the friends around her. Even the Rangers changed their icy demeanor after a few days around the man. She doubted he was even aware of his effect on others. On her.

Despite her best efforts to keep that emotional wall up, she cared for the wild elf. And she knew she would not leave her behind, no matter the gain. For once in her relatively lonely life, Elora did not consider what Mira would do if the situation was reversed.

Hal’s softness is rubbing off on me.

When she saw her Leadership go up a Level, she snorted in derision.

At least she stopped the bleeding. For a wonder, neither of them seemed to have any broken bones.

But Elora knew they were vulnerable where they were. Even if the Shoggoth didn’t come after them – and she was all but certain it would – many other creatures lurked in the dark.

And in their present state, Elora doubted they could put up much of a fight.

That is, she thought, if Mira ever wakes up.

64

Hal and Ashera looked at each other. Reflected in the Sin Keeper’s eyes was the same worry, fear, and sense of loss that Hal felt. They were so worried about themselves that they never stopped to think something worse would befall their friends.

That something would take one of them.

“We have to get to them,” Hal said, sounding more resolute than he felt. “Do you know where they are?”

Being in a party conferred certain benefits. Provided the members were within range, any member had a vague sense of where the others were. But as with many other things, Hal was beginning to learn that some skills went beyond stats.

While Hal could tell Elora was, oddly enough, below them, he could not tell which direction.

Ashera shut her eyes and focused. The swirling eddies of fog around their ankles danced gracefully as Hal looked from one silver-etched obelisk to the next. Finally, his eyes settled on the large black spike set into the center of the crossroads they were at.

Eight paths split off from this central point. Hal’s uncanny ability to tell direction told him, at a glance, that each path was a specific compass heading.

He trusted that Ashera would set them on the right course.

They were in a maze, or so it felt. Somehow they had to get down below to Elora. With the only entry being sealed by some sort of Founder magic, he doubted Elora could get in. If she had the strength left to find the door.

Assuming there was one.

A feat neither of them was sure the driven Ranger was currently capable of. With no allies besides the unconscious Mira – the only member of their party in a worse state than Elora – the Ranger’s chances didn’t look good.

They had to get to her.

“Southwest,” Ashera said into the gloom. “She fell a great distance.” Her pale green eyes reflected her distress. Hal nodded and they took the southward path to their left, weaving around the large spike of an obelisk.

What unnerved him most of all was Noth’s inability to pass through them. She could phase through anything, except Hal, but the obelisks were as solid to her as either of them.

He didn’t like the implications.

Vorax hopped along in their wake, occasionally sending mental images of dark things in the shadows to Hal. It took him a few moments to sort through the imagery. To understand that the mimic wasn’t showing him something real. Vorax was expressing his unease and worry.

The remaining eight Wortlings stumbled about every now and then. Hal needed to give strict commands regarding how and where they should move.

It was tedious and Hal almost wished he had left them back in the forest. Even if their erstwhile master reclaimed them, it wouldn’t be able to see them in these halls of stone.

But they functioned well enough as a rearguard. Hal wanted no surprises and constantly looking over his back would get tiring. Instead, he placed the weakest Wortlings at the back.

If one of them suddenly vanished, that would be all the warning he needed.

The obelisks created a snaking, foggy path that seemed to double back more than not. A few times Hal caught sight through gaps in the obelisks of shadows moving on the path they had just walked.

And he wondered if he was seeing the things Vorax was imparting to him, or if he was letting his own imagination run away with him. The problem with a sympathetic connection to a monster was it went both ways.

While Hal could block out the mimic, it took effort. And he was already expending a great deal of mental effort just to keep the Wortlings moving.

Every so often the party frames winked out as they skirted out of range. But as the maze straightened out and they headed due south, they breathed a sigh of relief to see Elora and Mira’s status return.

A sense of unease fell upon all of them until the path became a series of steps and they ascended out of the fog. They needed to go down, not up. But there was no other way out.

The stairs lifted into a narrow channel cut into the wall. It was just wide enough for the Wortlings. Before the rearguard entered the narrow hall, Hal turned around to get a look at the layout of the maze of obelisks.

The only light came from their Guild badges, but they had doubled back so often that they had not gone very far from the crossroad spike. He spotted it easily.

He wanted to understand what this place was used for. It felt important and yet he couldn’t figure it out. What purpose did a maze serve a Founder? Through the churning currents of fog below, several dark shapes followed in the party’s footsteps.

At first, Hal thought they were creatures coming after them but he later realized the truth. They were shadowy echoes of themselves. Even from such a distance, he could pick out the darkened silhouette of Ashera and himself with their train of Wortlings behind.

“What would have happened if they caught up to us?” Hal wondered aloud.

Ashera, one step below him and watching the same scene shook her head. “I would prefer not to find out.”

For some reason, Hal felt certain the shadows couldn’t leave the maze. And it was truly a maze, he saw.

As the fog leaked between the obelisks, it snaked and winded its way through the maze in a hundred different directions. Eventually losing itself to the darkness that made the maze appear infinite.

Perhaps sensing their fleeing targets, the shadow-selves hurried along the path the group walked. Ashera let out a gasp at the same time as Hal turned and hurried up the steps into the claustrophobic hall.

One, then another Wortling vanished from his awareness. They served their function as a rearguard, alerting him to the danger even on the stairs.

He said a silent prayer for Stumpy. Or he would have if a quick look over his shoulder didn’t show him the weird Wortling was still alive and well. Either subconsciously or through Vorax’s shuffling, Stumpy had gotten ahead of some of the other Wortlings.

Stumpy, somehow, lived.

There was no noise. No howls or gnashing teeth. Only disturbing silence.

It seems I was right to place the weakest Wortlings at the rear.

“Let’s not linger too close to the evil shadow-things,” Hal said, hurrying everybody – Wortlings included – deeper into the hallway with him.

The shadows, it seemed, were content with the two Wortlings they had taken. Even still, Hal tensed when he saw something wriggling through the many legs of the remaining Wortlings. He only relaxed once he made out the treasure chest shape of his companion.

Vorax shuffled through the several pairs of feet and came to Hal’s side, shaking slightly. Hal crouched down and pet the treasure chest’s lid, it seemed to soothe the poor mimic.

“It’s okay, I think we’re safe now,” Hal said, more to himself than to the mimic. “Why were you all the way back there?”

The mimic imparted his own curiosity at seeing something in the fog. When he went to look, he found it was all too real and fled.

Hal ordered one of the Wortlings to lift up Vorax and carry him. “Protect him with your life,” he instructed. In an ironic twist, Hal was fairly sure it was the same Wortling that had carried Vorax before.

That seemed to calm the concerned mimic.

Family. Safe. Vorax imparted to him.

It touched Hal’s heart.

The hallway had no ceiling, not that Hal could see at least. It felt like a massive slot, with impossibly high and narrow walls squeezing them in single-file.

No further pursuit came from their shadow-selves. But Hal knew that if they had to return to that maze – and he was fairly sure they would – the shadows would be waiting.

Now with two Wortlings at their command. Somehow, he doubted their purpose was to kill intruders. That would be too easy.

Faint outlines in the smooth, worked stone around them began to glitter. It caught the light from the badges and glimmered in the dark up ahead. Up close, the lines glowed with a facsimile of moonlight.

The lines chased themselves in intricate geometric patterns until they were swallowed by the abyss above.

Eventually, the silvered grooves formed outlines of doors with no handle. At the first one, Hal stopped and inspected it.

If there was a gap or a crack in the stone to indicate a door would swing open, he couldn’t find it. But he kept searching regardless and eventually, resorted to pushing on the thing.

The outline flashed with bright golden light at the same time as his mark pulsed. Without a whisper of sound, the door swung open onto a well-lit room.

Your Investigation has risen to Level 9.

+1% Investigation speed (+9%).

+2% Investigation success (+18%).

It was a bedroom. Everything was made from the same gray-blue stone that was polished until it gleamed. A chandelier of gold hung from the ceiling, its many dangling crystals gave off a warm glow.

Apart from the workmanship of the small boxy room, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Hal let Vorax down to see if the mimic could sniff out any treasure while he and Ashera searched the sparse room.

Aside from a bed stuffed into the corner and a small nightstand built into the wall, there was nothing of note.

That didn’t stop Vorax from gobbling up the soft mattress, sheets and all. The mimic burped and out flew a flurry of feathers from its velvet-lined mouth.

They searched room after room but aside from a buffet of mattresses for Vorax, they found nothing of worth. Halfway through, even the mimic’s monumental hunger was sated.

For mattresses at least.

Hal made a mental note to return with Mira and Elora. They could use a proper place to rest.

And while he didn’t want to linger any longer than was strictly necessary, having a backup plan was never without value. Nothing ever went as planned.

The cramped corridor, the marching monotony of carbon copy rooms, it all felt disturbingly like a hotel.

When they came to a crossroads containing more of the same layout in each direction, Hal began to wonder if they were still in a maze.

Hal hated hotels. There was something severely offputting about them. Their layout and even the smell bothered him. While the halls were cool and dry, they lacked that signature reek.

“Where to now?” Hal asked, prompting Ashera to shut her eyes again.

A moment later she opened them, looked at Hal, and shrugged. “Directly below us is my best guess but….”

“But we can’t dig through stone,” he finished for her.

From whatever silvery etchings were placed upon the stone, Noth found herself once more incapable of passing through. She floated on the faint golden tether like a kite twenty feet up and behind the group.

She didn’t try to talk to anybody, nor did she try the stone again.

Without a direction, Hal went straight. More doors greeted them but they didn’t bother to check them. They were wasting too much time already and Hal reasoned that if there was a door that was not a bedroom, it would look different.

A hundred or more doors later, Hal lost count around the 30th, they finally came to a T-junction.

In typical hotel fashion, a bank of wide double-doors of gleaming brassy metal greeted them. Ashera, having no context, looked at them curiously.

Hal, however, was more than a little disturbed.

As far as he understood, this world had no concept of elevators. And yet, here they were. Hal almost expected elevator buttons beside each pair of metal doors.

He found nothing. The doors were separated by a half-foot of polished stone. No markings, no buttons.

But as Hal stood there examining the area, the door ahead of him opened. The twin metal sheets slid into recesses in the walls to reveal a large circular room inside. Several times larger than should be possible with the other doors so close.

“Expanded Space,” Ashera breathed, stepping back to get a view.

Experimentally, Hal walked in front of the other doors. After a moment of standing, they opened one by one as well. The scene was similar. A large stone room at least thirty feet in diameter with a hole punched into the center.

Choosing a door at random, Hal entered the large cylindrical room and took it in. The imagery of what he assumed was a pantheon of unknown gods lined the curved walls.

The floor was filled with perfectly fitted stones that made ever-tightening circles. Each stone was engraved with a silvery glyph. At the center of the room was a ten-foot-wide hole. Looking up, Hal noticed another hole twenty feet above him and directly over the hole in the floor.

Everybody piled into the room and Noth, who had been fairly despondent and bored so far, attempted to dive through the hole in the center. Seeing the silver glyphs, she didn’t bother to go through the stone.

The faint golden tether slipped between and through the engraved stones, a fact Hal observed with more than a little curiosity. Before he could think about it any longer, the Reaper came back and floated before them.

“This is a means of conveyance,” she said, though her voice did not seem glad.

Hal looked to Ashera. He didn’t need to ask for the Sin Keeper to understand his intent.

After shutting her eyes again she nodded. “She’s still down there, westward now.”

Anxious, Hal stepped up to the hole and placed a hand over it, hoping he could feel something other than empty air. He wasn’t sure he had enough rope. And a quick survey of the room showed him that he had nowhere to tie it off anyway.

A faint rush of energy tingled his palm and he felt it supported. Hal let his arm go limp but it still hung in the air.

Just to be sure, Hal summoned thick shadow-aberration-limbs to brace himself around the hole in case whatever supported his arm couldn’t support his full weight.

His precaution was unnecessary.

As soon as he stepped into the empty air his entire body became weightless. He hung there, unsure of what to do. Only when he looked at his feet, to another hole awaiting him in the next room down, did he start to descend.

Each room appeared the same as the last, except the paintings around the edge of the room changed. Hal didn’t understand the significance and didn’t recognize the godly figures or their bloody battles.

They descended several “floors” until Ashera no longer sensed Elora below them.

“Stop,” she said. “She’s here.”

65

The “elevator” worked on a simple basis. Look down to go down, up to go up, and straight ahead to stop. Even Vorax, with no neck to speak of, could use it. The Wortlings came next, and only proved a problem to control when they finally stepped off the weightless magic.

Half a dozen feet tried moving at once, tumbling one creature into the next until they landed on the hard stone in a sprawl of thick bark-skinned limbs.

Ashera went to the doors as Hal cleaned up the mess of Wortlings. Without his explicit commands, they were blind. And without any soil, they could not take root, which severely lowered their utility.

He could still command them to fight. They would swing at whatever he told them to, so long as he could see it. And the Wortlings he still possessed were a different variety than when he had originally commandeered them.

Hal took a moment to look over their stats, wondering if their maturation meant anything meaningful.

[Wortling (Mature)]

Lv.18

Resources

HP: 584/221

SP: 177/177

MP: 50/50

Resistances

Fire: -20

Water: 20

Lightning: 30

Earth: 40

Wind: 0

Ice: 0

Piercing: 60

Slashing: 0

Blunt: 10

Defensive Properties

DEF: 25

MDEF: 5

Abilities

Vine Lash

- Lash out with barbed vines, binding the creature and causing damage for every second it remains bound.

Needleshot

- Emit hardened thorns up to a range of 60 feet. Grants Blindsense within 60 non-obstructed feet of an embedded thorn.

- MP: 5

Ensnare

- Wortlings are capable of opening up their bodies to trap prey and creatures up to three times their size.

Root

- Send roots into the earth, recovering 12 HP per minute. If left rooted beyond their HP, they will instead absorb temporary HP up to 4 times their maximum.

New Growth

- Mature Wortlings are capable of severing a limb, reducing their HP by 25%, and spawning a Dormant Wortling. A sapling that will grow to a simple Wortling within 24 hours of being planted. The limb regrows within an hour.

Mature

- Wortlings can evolve into more dangerous foes by Maturing. Maturation takes a minimum of 15 minutes, up to a month. Wortlings grow in power, size, and capability as they mature, culminating in a full-grown Worttree if left undisturbed for a month.

Traits

Splintering Wood

- A Mature Wortling is covered in thick, spiny bark. Attacking the bark with a melee hit creates vicious splinters that retaliate against the attacker, inflicting damage.

Tiring Strikes

- A Wortling delivers its poison with each successful strike. A potent sleeping toxin courses through their opponent's veins, rendering them deeply fatigued until they lose consciousness.

Swarming

- Wortlings are capable of swarming with incredible efficiency, moving through and within each other’s space without hindrance.

Plantmind

- All Wortlings and their Worttree parent are capable of maintaining constant communication within 15 miles. If one is aware of a particular danger, all are made aware.

Woodsense

- Wortlings are automatically capable of sensing anything that resides within 60 feet of itself, so long as they both are in contact with vegetation.

Hal’s mouth hung open at the difference. For some reason, he didn’t think much about the Wortlings he kept at the camp. When he gave them the command to Root he didn’t think the difference would be so massive.

But the time it took him to return to camp and summarily command them to stop had been long enough for them to change. The Level Up was a welcome surprise.

The small boost to their HP was nothing compared to the gargantuan stockpile of temp HP it had gained. And with its improved form, it would gain it even faster.

If he could find some dirt.

His original goal was to release them at some point because he didn’t think it would be possible to hide their obviously monstrous features.

But the Wortlings looked almost handsome. They were, however, nearly seven feet tall. Despite their more humanoid features, their skin was clearly rough bark. Neither of which would make them easy to conceal in a town.

But the New Growth ability would let him hedge his bets. As Ashera stood by the doors waiting for Hal to open them, he triggered the ability in two of the Wortlings.

Purely as a means of preservation.

They had become too important to Hal. If one of them was killed, at least he could make more. He envisioned a forest filled with Worttrees. If he raised them, would Dominate still be necessary to command them?

He glanced at Vorax, still held in the arms of a nearby Wortling, and wondered if other monsters could be tamed. There was no denying the instinctual connection he was beginning to develop toward other monsters.

Instead of being a predator, could he instead turn them into allies?

Hal stuffed the two, still-twitching limbs into his inventory. His train of thought was cut off suddenly as he took note of Ashera.

The doors opened for Ashera as readily as they did for Hal. It seemed to surprise Ashera as well, because she started and let out a small gasp before looking over her shoulder sheepishly at Hal.

Curious.

Were the doors in this area simply designed to permit any person? If the enchantments and materials required for creating the additional security were rare, it would make sense. You don’t need a lock on every door if only people with a key can get in to the entire complex.

And it was a complex, Hal began to realize. What he originally thought was perhaps a few rooms dedicated to some passing fancy of the Founder turned out to be much larger.

There were enough rooms on the level above to house hundreds of people. And they had only gone down one hallway.

The fact that it was all beneath Murkmire unsettled Hal. The organization of it all spoke of practice and iteration. He doubted this was the only one of its kind.

With one look back at the hole in the floor signifying more floors below them, Hal hurried to catch up to Ashera in the room beyond his.

Ashera stood there, dumbstruck.

The room was a squat box with massive faceted emeralds, eight feet high and half as wide, set into the corners of the room.

Strange glyphs and markings filled the room from wall to wall, like a graffiti artist had gone wild. The only surface untouched by those shining glyphs were the impossibly large gemstones and the two full bookshelves stuffed between them on the walls to the left and right.

Within each of the emeralds was a shadow that shifted and twitched. Hal was reminded of something sleeping. Perhaps forced into slumber they could not wake from.

There was nothing else in the room. No place to sit, nothing but the glyphs, the emeralds, bookshelves, and a door across the way.

Ashera stood two steps in, clearly afraid the shadows within the gems held guardians to ward off intruders. Beside her, Hal studied the room.

It was heavily warded, he could practically taste the mana in the air.

Hal took another step and the shadows shifted once more. Faint whispers he had almost forgotten about came back to him.

Failure, why do you bother us?

Noth zipped into the room, her raven-black wings fully extended, a look of fury stamped on her fair features.

Hal was more concerned with her than the shadows. “What’s wrong, Noth?”

The Reaper looked to the four crystals. “Foul magic,” she spat. “These are Void creatures, they should not exist on this plane. It is a perversion.”

Ashera looked at the emeralds. “Are they… aware?”

Noth gave a curt nod. “As aware as a creature that desires nothing but destruction and havoc can be.” She turned and drifted toward the nearest emerald. “Why do you call this one Failure?”

The shadow within the emerald shifted as if startled by this new creature. At first, Hal thought it wasn’t going to answer but then it gave a gleeful cackle. Reject. Failure. What else to call him?

“What do you mean?” Hal asked suddenly.

Ashera furrowed her brow at Hal. “They are speaking to you?”

Hal nodded and stared at each of the emeralds, waiting. So, only he and Noth could hear them.

A ball of tension knotted in his gut. The Founder had written just outside of the district a similar phrasing, “Failure #37. Lost Cause.”

All four shadows pressed against the interior of their respective gem like it was a thin pane of glass. Their forms roiled and shifted so fast through various faces that they were a constant blur of darkness.

The Founder’s Grand Plan. Failures, all. Number thirty-seven, the worst of all. Blood-traitor.

A cold sweat broke out on Hal’s brow. His Founder’s mark still glowed brightly, casting its many-lined geometric symbol into the air a few inches off his forearm. He stared at it, disquieted by what the creatures meant.

He bears the mark of the Failure, cackled one shadow.

He will bear it to his grave, snickered another.

What number is this one, we wonder? asked the third.

“Do not listen to their lies, Hal,” Noth said. “They twist the truth until it is unrecognizable.”

We cannot lie, not here, said the fourth, in the farthest corner on his left. Ask us what this place is, Failure.

Hal looked to Noth, then back to the emeralds. He stepped fully into the center of the room.

Despite Noth’s reservations, he was so hungry for knowledge that he couldn’t deny himself the possibility of answers. Even those so horribly warped that he might spend weeks untangling the knots.

This place made no sense to him. It was large enough to house a second secret city and only a Founder could get in. What was he planning?

What “Grand Plan” were they talking about? And how did he fit in with Rinbast and this plan?

There were so many questions and he had stumbled right into the one room he might actually get some answers.

And they didn’t have the time for him to entertain his curiosity.

As if to punctuate that point, Elora spoke up, <“I don’t mean to rush you two, but there’s something coming this way and it doesn’t look friendly. If you can’t get to me, then do me a favor, okay?”>

<“We are not far,”> Ashera said, her eyes wide and round. <“We will get to you,”> she promised.

<“Just in case, I want you to check on the Gone Goose when you get out if I can’t. Take my share of whatever money we get and if Giel has any surviving family, give it to them. I wanted to find a way to repay his sacrifice, a memorial o-or something but I’m no good with that. If you could… I would be grateful. The same goes for you, Hal.”>

Hal hung his head, his face hot with shame. He was so wrapped up in his own world that he barely acknowledged Giel’s death. It still felt so far away, like he expected the big lamora to walk into that door with a goofy grin on his face.

And throughout it all, he was going to stay in this room asking questions instead of saving his companions. His friends.

<“We’re coming, Elora. Hold on.”>

Without looking back, Hal ordered the Wortlings to follow.

As much as Hal wanted his answers, it would be a hollow victory if he lost anybody else. Giel’s loss hit him hard then as he marched out of the room and into a lit tunnel beyond.

The man had come at great risk to himself. Hal still didn’t understand how he seemed to recognize Hal. And while he would have preferred some more concrete answers, he never doubted that Giel wanted to help.

There was more to that story than met the eye, and he hoped that somehow he could get the full tale. Maybe… just maybe, Giel would miraculously be back at the Gone Goose when this was all over.

Everybody could have a great big laugh at their worry over him. And over a round of drinks, he could regale them with his tale of survival. In turn, they could explain what happened. How they completed the Coffin Contract.

Hal would even make sure the lamora got an even bigger, better tavern in the district once it was safe.

He didn’t deserve to die.

Hal’s essence-limbs rippled through the air behind him as he took off at a run. This close to Elora and Mira, even Hal could feel where the two were.

He rounded a sharp corner, his tendrils pushing against one wall and pulling at another. The Wortlings pounded tirelessly behind him.

“There should be a door up here,” Hal said as they approached another crossroad. “I can feel them just up ahead.”

Elora couldn’t have been more than twenty feet away from him. What he expected to find was another Founder-locked door.

His shock was complete when he turned down the corridor and found nothing but a blank wall of solid stone.

66

Mira was curled up against Elora, mumbling in her sleep. Elora pressed one hand to the bedroll they were sharing for warmth and leaned over the woman.

“Mira… wake up.” If Hal and Ashera were coming to meet them, then the least she could do is mirror their progress. Now that the pair were close enough, she had a general idea of their position and could move toward them.

With the noises echoing in the dark around her, they wouldn’t be safe at the campfire for long. At least their Exhaustion wore off from being warmed up. It would still take some time for the cold to creep back in.

But with drier clothes, they should have enough time to rejoin with Ashera and Hal.

If not for their need of the campfire’s warmth and slight regenerative properties - slight only because of how short their stay was - Elora never would have set a fire.

She knew well the dangers of putting down a campfire and the unwanted attention it would bring. But the choice had been between most assuredly dying, and being able to die with her bow in hand now that her fingers were no longer numb.

Elora gently shook the elf in her arms again.

Of course, that wasn’t enough to wake her up. The elf took quite a bit more convincing before she roused from her slumber.

She groaned and rubbed at her eyes. Due to their Exhaustion, their short stay at the campfire was barely restorative. And despite Elora’s Survival Skill, the hastily thrown together campsite was far less functional than normal.

But it was all her numb fingers could do.

Mira looked at Elora, then back at herself… and then finally realized they were sharing the same bedroll.

Elora looked sharply at her. “We were both freezing,” she explained. “And nobody else needs know of this.”

The normally jovial elf nodded her solemn agreement. “Thank you… Elora.”

“Up on your feet, we need to get going.” Without waiting for a response from the woozy and groggy Dragoon, Elora slipped out of the bedroll and helped Mira out.

Unfortunately for Mira, Elora’s “help” was little more than hauling her out of the bedroll so she could fold it up and put it in her inventory. The fire could stay burning until the wood turned to ash for all she cared.

Together, the two women hurried as fast as their tired and weakened legs could carry them. Mira’s left leg would hardly support her weight, forcing the much shorter Elora to help support her. But it soon became obvious that they were being followed. Hunted.

And it was gaining on them.

“My spear,” Mira groaned, when she realized far too late that they would be forced to make a stand before they ever got near to Ashera and Hal.

“It was lost in the collapse,” Elora said. “Forget about it, just keep moving.”

At the edges of the pools of light from their Guild badges, dark hulking shapes - Shadow Predators - flitted in and out at the edge of the light.

It won’t be long now, Elora thought grimly. With Mira’s leg, and her lack of a weapon… there was no way they could hold off the things around them.

She was hardly in a fit fighting state, what potions she had saved as emergency use had already been used to stabilize the poor elf. But she didn’t feel remorse for the action.

With those potions, Elora might have been strong enough to fight back. But against the countless sounds in the dark her sensitive ears picked up? She shook her head.

If Mira hadn’t died from her injuries without those potions, then she most assuredly would not have been awake. And they would have been caught hours ago.

It was a good thing they stayed at the fire as long as they did. Had they left sooner, neither of them would have possessed the stamina to keep going. As it was, they were running on fumes.

Mira suddenly stopped, and Elora feared that the woman had passed out on her. She tried to tug her along but Mira’s superior strength kept her grounded.

“No,” she said through cracked lips. “You go. I’ll hold them off.”

Elora tugged on her again, this time urgently. “Come on!” she cried out in frustration. “I am not losing another friend!”

A bit of the old Mira peeked through, like sunlight through darkened clouds. She smiled at Elora. “Aw, I knew you would like me eventually!”

“Yes, yes, and I will like you a whole lot more if you come along with me.”

Mira rested a gentle hand on Elora’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Elora. I’m not really going to die. I mean, to you I will be gone-”

“Spare me your Fenerheit Cycle garbage, you are not dying and as your party leader that is an order!”

The Dragoon looked back at her with sad violet eyes. “I would have liked to see what sort of Sanctum Hal could have made. I think you’ll like what he has in store,” she said, readying herself for a final fight.

“Fine, you want to be stubborn? I’ll show you stubborn.” Elora’s bow was damaged, but serviceable still. She pulled it out and nocked an arrow. “Then we go together.”

<“I don’t mean to rush you two,”> Elora said, <“but there’s something coming this way and it doesn’t look friendly. If you can’t get to me, then do me a favor, okay?”>

<“We are not far,”> Ashera said, her voice thick and husky. <“We will get to you.”>

Elora shook her head. No, you won’t. I’m so sorry, Ashera. I know this will be hardest on you. She thought she steeled herself for what was to come. But when she spoke again, her voice was as unsteady as a child’s.

<“Just in case, I want you to check on the Gone Goose when you get out if I can’t. Take my share of whatever money we get and if Giel has any surviving family, give it to them. I wanted to find a way to repay his sacrifice, a memorial o-or something but I’m no good with that. If you could… I would be grateful. The same goes for you, Hal.”>

<“We’re coming, Elora. Hold on.”> Hal said, his voice resolute and sure.

She found herself feeling sorry for the man. There was no way he could get to her. The shadowy monsters came on in a thick pack, smaller Shadow Crawlers flanking the bigger Shadow Predators.

Mira looked at Elora. “You weren’t joking, huh?”

As if to answer the elf, Elora let fly an arrow into one of the Shadow Crawlers that had gotten a little too close. The Shadow Predator looked over at its minion but hardly seemed to care.

“Have it your way,” Mira said. Instead of pulling out a backup weapon - as Elora suspected she would have - she raised her arms up. Elbows bent at a ninety-degree angle, her palms in front of her face.

Mira began to chant. Not a prayer, Elora realized but magic. It was the incantation to a spell. One, the Dragoon had never used before. Not even when she was most certainly going to die.

Her fingers worked in complex patterns, shifting and flowing in a complex dance. Elora had never seen its like before.

Green vines began to crack through the stone around them and rise up in complex triple helices. They wrapped around the shadow creatures, creating twisting cages for them and thick brambles that they had to crawl through.

Try as they might, they couldn’t simply phase through those thorny vines. Just as Elora was appreciating Mira’s spellwork, the Elf began to sag. The effort clearly took a lot out of her.

What MP she had vanished, and with it a considerable chunk of her HP as blood payment for the lack of MP. Elora hooked an arm around her and held her upright while she shouldered her bow.

Dipping her shoulder, Elora shifted the much heavier and longer woman in a shoulder carry. It was the only way she could hold onto her. “We’ll talk about your magic when you’re awake and well,” Elora promised the unconscious Dragoon… or whatever she was.

That certainly looked like Druidic magic. Magic that hadn’t been seen in Aldim for centuries.

Elora pushed those thoughts from her head, summoned Windwalk with the last of her MP and pressed on toward Hal and Ashera. They were getting close she could tell and maybe, just maybe, Mira’s spell had slowed their pursuit long enough to rejoin with the others.

Even then, Elora didn’t like their odds. Hal had some useful magic, but he was still a Novice. As strong as she knew Ashera was, Elora found herself hoping they had an exit strategy ready to go. Her heart lifted a little when she saw the dark tunnel ahead.

It didn’t provide much, but the tighter twisting tunnel beyond would at least even the odds in their favor. Only so many of the outnumbering creatures could get in at a time.

* * *

Shocked but undaunted, Hal strode up to the wall. He felt around it, looking for any hidden activator or seams that might hint at a doorway. He was certain Elora was just beyond the wall.

<“I’ve made it to a cramped tunnel now with Mira. She’s unconscious. I do not see a way to get to you. It’s just solid stone,”> Elora said, a thread of worry in her voice.

<“We’re on the other side of a wall, a dead end. Do you see a switch or anything?”> He knew there wouldn’t be but he had to hope.

This couldn’t be how it ended for Elora. He wouldn’t let it.

Hal didn’t like the expression on the Sin Keeper’s face as she came to join him. Noth floated imperiously above them, detached and aloof once more.

Even if he commanded all his Wortlings to try and dig through the smooth, worked stone he doubted they would make much progress.

Not in time, at least.

<“There’s nothing here.”> She sounded resigned. It was one of the only times Hal could remember when the Ranger’s fiery personality seemed doused.

He couldn’t stand to lose anybody else. He was a failure. He hadn’t kept his friends safe. Would Giel have been alive if he tried to climb out of the pit instead of press on? He didn’t even try.

And instead of joining his friends as soon as humanly possible, he screwed around in an underground nature reserve. Giel’s death was on his shoulders. He could have come to their aid sooner.

Even if he wasn’t strong enough to help, Ashera certainly was. If she was there, Giel would have survived. The guilt and the anger welled up inside his chest and yearned for release.

He feared he was about to add to that weight of guilt. Elora and Mira were just a few feet away. And he was powerless to help her.

As one group, the Wortlings took several steps back.

<“Move back from the wall,”> Hal said, a rare bit of steel creeping into his voice. One or another, he was getting through that wall.

He meant it only for Elora but realized that it would be prudent for Ashera as well.

The Sin Keeper backed up in line with the Wortlings. “What are you going to do, Hal?”

“Whatever it takes,” he said. “Noth, can you get through this wall?”

Like all the other walls, there were faint silver traceries all over the smooth walls. And just like the other walls, Noth was incapable of passing through them.

Though for Hal, she tried once more.

Hal expected the shake of her head, knew in his heart that the Founder would have protected against creatures phasing through the stone. But would he have protected the stone against brute force from the inside?

If this was meant to house an army of loyal subjects, there was still a chance he could get to Elora and Mira.

Hoping against hope that this would work, Hal summoned his latest spell, Drill Branch.

Corkscrewing branches formed a drill as wide at the base as he was tall, narrowing into a spiral tip a foot out. The spell levitated just ahead of him. He pressed its narrow tip to the stone and began to channel the spell, feeding it a constant stream of MP. The branches spun in a blurring clockwise rotation.

At first, the spell rebounded off the stone with a flash of light and a powerful wave of energy that forced Hal to skid back several feet. Hal nearly lost his concentration on the spell. A pair of Wortlings came up to brace his back and Hal pressed forward again.

As the spell’s anchor point, Hal leaned into the magic of the spinning drill with as much force as he could muster. The wall flashed and tried to reject the spell but with the aid of the Wortlings, Hal was able to keep the spell grinding away at the stone.

More of his Wortlings came to his aid, each of them bracing the other. And, in turn, bracing Hal and his spell.

His MP steadily drained. At the current rate, he could maintain the spell for nearly a minute. Any longer and he would have to begin pulling from the Wortlings.

He would sacrifice them all. Draining every last drop of their HP if it meant he could get to Elora and Mira in time.

Even with all his will bent toward the spell, the going was slow. His arms began to ache with the effort of keeping the spell tethered.

A fist-sized hole was all he had to show for his efforts so far.

With his MP nearly emptied, he used Assimilation to tap his SP. But that didn’t buy him much more time. And the effects were unpleasant.

With labored breath, Hal tapped one of the injured Wortlings. Steadily draining its SP and MP to replenish his MP.

As his SP recovered a little and he was able to think clearly, he realized even if he drained the two wounded Wortlings until they were no more, that would only grant him a couple of minutes extra.

Their SP and MP pools paled in comparison to their inflated temp HP but every little bit would help.

Hal still didn’t want to destroy one of the creatures. But if it came down to saving his friends or sacrificing every last Wortling, he would do it with a clear conscience. With the Wortling Saplings he now possessed, he could grow his own Worttree.

Not that his sole reasoning was pragmatic. It also felt wrong to abuse something under his control. But he knew, on a rational level at least, that they were unthinking and unfeeling creatures. Controlling them was no different than controlling a machine.

The seconds rolled by and he gained precious inches. His Wortlings continued to brace him as he moved forward, inch by inch.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his Strain bar filling up. What Strain he gained from fighting never seemed to linger for very long afterward.

And though Drill Branch claimed a Strain of 2, it didn’t seem to incur the cost every second. If it did, he would have capped out a long time ago. As it was, he was hovering around 12 Strain. Nearly half.

Another inch, and another point of Strain. Once it raised past 12, Hal felt something shift inside him, a faint twisting sensation.

Strain Affliction Lv.1 (Taxed).

You have taxed your body beyond normal limitations. Channeling Beast Magic has its costs and each use of the magic warps your body in new and unforeseen ways. Using Beast Magic beyond this point risks more than your health.

Beast Magic Efficacy +20% | Beast Magic Damage +20%.

MP Cost +10% | Strain Accumulation +15%.

The branches grew thicker and spun faster and faster. Sparks flew from the magical warding on the wall but debris and rock began to fall away at a steady rate. Hairline fractures spiderwebbed out from the point of the drilling and grew thicker, forming fissures.

Hal could feel the burst of strength coursing through his veins. It was frightening and euphoric all at once. He needed more.

Focusing on the weakest Wortling, he pulled its HP into his MP with Assimilation.

Ashera, catching on to what Hal was doing began casting Cure on the Wortlings that was beginning to look ragged and withered from his draining.

Her face lit up like she just discovered a new spell. “It worked!” she cried. Seeing that Hal was too preoccupied to respond, she added, “I did not know if curing a monster would do anything. Healing magic usually only works on humanoids. I have… never tried before admittedly.”

Propped up by her spells, Hal continued his drilling.

He grit his teeth as another prompt rolled by as his Strain hit 20 and he felt a surge of unbridled rage wash his vision in red. Virulent streams of blue and red-streaked mana rolled off his body, encircled his arms. Empowering his spell.

Strain Affliction Lv.2 (Savage).

Most mortals would have fallen at this point. Few Chimera Knights even reach this pinnacle of savagery. But a Beastborne thrives on the knife’s edge of destruction. It is there that they find both greatness and despair.

Beast Magic Efficacy +60% | Beast Magic Damage +60%.

Essence Tier +1.

Max HP +10% | Max MP +10%.

MP Cost +15% | Strain Accumulation +25%.

Essence Tier plus one? Hal wondered.

Pressing forward, Hal soon had his answer. While his shadow-limbs were certainly useful, they were relatively weak. They could hold him aloft, even holding Ashera at the same time. But they were not powerful in any way.

They certainly were not capable of digging into stone as hard as metal like that around him. But as he bent all of his will toward breaking through the wall and to his friends beyond, he noticed the Wortlings were no longer holding him.

At some point, he stopped giving them a mental command to brace him without realizing it.

Looking over his shoulder, he could see how they stood there like silent carved statues. His shadow-limbs, on the other hand, were anchored into the hardened stone walls and floor.

Hal commanded the creatures to begin digging through the collapsing rubble of the hole he was making. The wall was breaking. Cracking with massive fractures that loosed whole chunks of the silver-engraved stone.

Each time one piece fell, it was promptly cleared away. His control, however, was slipping. It took an increasingly greater amount of his attention to prevent the spell from going wild and destroying the nearby Wortlings.

It wanted to damage everything around it. The magic wanted to be free.

Even with Ashera’s metered healing, one of the Wortlings faltered for a moment and then crumbled to ash. It simply was not enough to keep them at full health. Not if she also expected to heal their friends on the other side of the wall.

A surge of green light washed over him. And then another shortly after as the second creature fell.

You absorb 45 Treant Essence.

You absorb 45 Treant Essence.

A snarl clawed its way out of his mouth. With a final roar of power, the wall cracked and split with a mighty clap that echoed in the air. Hal’s ears popped from the sudden rush of air as the two spaces equalized their pressure.

But he couldn’t let go of the spell. It pushed forward without his prompting and he wrestled for control. The Wortlings darted out of the way at his command. It took everything he had simply to reign in the spell.

<“I can see light!”> Elora said. <“By the gods, is Hal doing that?”>

Neither Ashera nor Hal seemed able to answer. The Sin Keeper looked with more than a little concern at Hal. The Reaper above watched with great interest, which swiftly turned to mounting horror.

He felt himself slipping. Falling into a dark pit within himself. His fingers clawed at the smooth sloped sides and the scene before him stretched farther and farther away.

The wall was breached. But he was still pushing the spell forward with explosive power.

Strain Affliction Lv.3 (Feral).

More Beast than Man, your magic has warped your mind until you no longer recognize friend from foe and your body is no longer your own to command.

Irreparable harm will befall you if you fail to reclaim your magic and your body. Once your Strain Affliction increases to Level 5, you will become a vile aberration. An unthinking, violent force more akin to natural disaster than any living thing.

Beast Magic Efficacy +150% | Beast Magic Damage +150%.

Essence Tier +1 | Beast Magic Tier +1.

Max HP +25% | Max MP +25%.

HP Regen: +25% | MP Regen +25%.

MP Cost -15% | Strain Accumulation +50%.

Unlocked Ability: Essence Siphon

Leech the essential life force of a creature, drawing out its Essence in its purest form.

Unlocked Ability: Diffusion

Expend Strain to empower attacks and spells.

New Quest: The Beast Within.

You have awoken a monster within that has claimed control of your mind, body, and soon, your soul. If you do not reassert control, you will change into an abomination the likes of which even a Shoggoth would fear. This is the first true test of any Beastborne. Reclaim yourself.

Objectives:

- Reclaim your mind and body before hitting Strain Affliction Lv.5.

Rewards:

- Maximum Strain Increase.

- Beast Magic Skill Increase.

Hal watched as the wild magic controlling his body ravaged the stone. The remainder of the drilling was done in seconds.

Ashera gasped as Hal let go of the spell and rushed into the hole, no longer in control of his own body. He could sense a predator about. Brown eyes turned a hellish red regarded Elora and the slumped form of Mira now covered in rock dust.

They were weak, near death. No sport there. It would be easy to kill them and therefore, not worth his time. Not now. There was bigger game afoot.

Hal’s shadow-limbs were no longer made of insubstantial wispy shade. They were darkness made material. Impassable and hard as steel.

Rolling coronas of red and blue Beast Magic essence rose off his body as he barreled down the tunnel. The [Goblinbane] cleared its sheath and he turned a deaf ear to the shouts of the friends he so desperately wanted to save.

He did save them, Hal realized, sitting in that mental prison. No more of his friends would die because of his weakness and mistakes.

But who would save him?

67

The Beast that now controlled Hal’s body could sense the predators ahead at the mouth of the winding tunnel. The wounded, half-dead women it passed were no threat. The Beast wanted nothing more than to test itself against the best predators.

To prove itself the stronger.

Sitting backseat to the thing driving his body, Hal understood that this was a part of him. Some dark reflection of who he was. It wasn’t a possession.

It was a coup.

He knew, too, that the hole he found himself in wasn’t real. It was a mental construct of some sort, likely the Beast’s. Simple, yet effective. There were no bars the twenty or so feet above him. And at all times Hal could tap into his body’s senses.

The only thing that he could not do, was control himself. But he did have ringside seats to the show the Beast was putting on.

Small concessions, Hal thought bitterly.

Bounding through the cavern, the Beast emerged from a bend and barreled straight into the waiting Shadow Predator.

The creature’s surprise was complete when it saw the red-glowing eyes and the red-and-blue streaked mana that rolled off the Beast’s frame. This was not the prey it thought it had cornered.

This was no prey at all.

With no regard to tactics, the Beast whipped the [Goblinbane] around and down into the Shadow Predator. The essence of shadow that the Beast was channeling changed wholly to aberration right before the blow struck. The blade’s edge sprouted serrated teeth like a shark’s and bit deeply into the Shadow Predator.

It looked like a larger version of the Shadow Crawlers that they first ran into in the Coffin District. Except this monster was larger, nearly dominating what space was left in the tunnel.

Like the Shadow Crawlers, the Shadow Predator had a similar slab of engraved stone where its face should have been. Along with the shadowy half-corporeal body, it looked like the mean older brother of the Shadow Crawlers.

The Beast placed two hands on the blade partially embedded in the creature. Rather than remove the blade and strike again, the Beast pressed harder into the attack.

With strength Hal knew his body didn’t normally possess, the Beast cleaved the Shadow Predator in two. The edges of its shadowy form wilted and curled in upon itself, more material than it should be.

Thick inky-black and red-veined tendrils whipped off the Beast and sank into what was left of the Shadow Predator. A feeling of utter superiority flooded through the Beast.

Every second the tendrils remained in the quickly dying creature, it withdrew more of the creature’s essence. Killing it in the most torturous way imaginable.

Everything that made the creature what it was, siphoned off to empower its killer.

Unable to see the prompts, Hal searched for some way to see if he was going to die. The Beast hardly cared if its body took damage, though that could be due to its superiority complex. After more effort than it should have taken, Hal was able to bring up his HUD.

His Strain was climbing. As he expected. The bar was already filled past his maximum of 25 Strain. It immediately began ticking up again, this time filled with a deep umber color that overlaid the already filled bar.

Four Shadow Crawlers appeared in the entrance, flanking the mouth of the tunnel. The Beast rushed out with the [Goblinbane], weaving a deadly dance and threw aside the withered, insubstantial remains of the Shadow Predator as it went.

The creatures fell back at the sudden assault.

Hal could hear their confused jeering, calling him “Failure,” and “Reject.” If the Beast could hear them, he paid them no mind.

Gleaming teeth bit down on one shadowy creature, two needle-tipped tentacles speared a pair of Shadow Crawlers and the spinning flash of Drill Branch gored the final Shadow Crawler.

The Beast tore through them. Ripped them to shreds and those that weren’t lucky enough to die immediately had their essence siphoned away.

As Hal’s Strain grew, so too did the Beast’s boldness.

Out from the wide dark expanse of the cavern, dozens of shadow creatures came on. Hal only realized belatedly that he shouldn’t be able to see into that inky darkness so easily. Definitely not as far as he could now.

Whether they sensed his injured companions or they were trailing Hal, it didn’t matter anymore. The Beast rushed into them, took them two or three at a time. Its vicious barbed tentacles, as cruel and effective as any blade of steel, gouged horrible rents in their shadowy flesh.

But the creatures were not entirely unthinking beasts. They understood that a few of them might die. And they accepted it. The Shadow Crawlers began to organize and surround the Beast.

For every creature that was slain, two more stepped forward to fill its place.

Hal felt an odd ambivalence at that moment. He didn’t want the Beast to die – because that meant he would die – but neither did he want it to come out the victor.

Suddenly, Hal’s Strain dropped dramatically. It was steadily climbing to 45 and in the blink of an eye, it dropped to 30. The umber bar that had nearly refilled half of his already maxed Strain vanished.

Things were dire indeed if the Beast was using its newly unlocked Diffusion ability to trade built-up Strain for greater power.

Unfortunately, that meant the Beast wasn’t quite as unthinking as Hal hoped. It understood the forces arrayed against it and reacted accordingly.

That didn’t bode well for Hal.

The Beast called forth Drill Branch and rather than using it to attack the creature in front of it, the Beast altered the spell.

The spiraling branches appeared above the Beast like an umbrella. They formed a protective spinning barrier around the Beast. The long twisting branches sprouted curved thorns as long as Hal’s forearm.

And as the Beast began to dash into the throng of gathered Shadow Crawlers, the modified Drill Branch became a gruesome blender.

Shadowy limbs were severed and went flying. Any creature too slow to get out of the way of the crazed Beast was shredded apart in seconds.

All it took was a single thorn to nick a creature. That wicked curved point drew the creature in ever-so-slightly. Then the next thorn struck, each one ripping and dragging the Shadow Crawlers to their demise.

Hal watched in amazement as the Beast wielded his limited repertoire of Beast Magic with unsurpassed skill. He altered spells on the fly – something Hal didn’t know he could do – and in doing so constantly kept the overwhelming enemy on the defensive.

Goblin Bomb Tosses turned into fiery columns that scorched the stone. The flash of light from Blinding Spit was so bright, it vaporized the nearest Shadow Crawlers.

Hal studied the way the Beast attacked. He learned more than he could have ever thought possible. The Beast switched its essences on the fly, often mid-swing, utilizing Splice in a way Hal never thought to. He didn’t even know it was possible.

Every time he altered his Splice it was slow and unwieldy. He had to focus for a few seconds for the changes to take effect. Not exactly conducive for battle.

While he could only utilize two essences at the same time, the Beast didn’t mix them as Hal did. It used aberration essence on its attacks – an apparent weakness of shadow – and used shadow essence to surround its body. At times, it swapped to treant essence. His skin hardened to steely bark moments before shadowy claws attacked.

Blows that should have crippled him, were instead shrugged off as minor injuries. And, looking at his HP, Hal agreed. Whenever the Beast swapped to treant essence, his HP bar became outlined in a spiky bark texture that gave off a faint green glow.

All too soon, there were no enemies for the Beast to vent its frustrations on. Dead bodies encircled the creature that had usurped control over Hal’s body. One by one they began to fade away in a puff of oily smoke, feeding into the Beast.

Hal’s greatest fear was realized then. The Beast needed to sate its bloodlust and with no obvious enemies around, it turned back to the tunnels.

Only then, did Hal attempt to reign in the Beast’s control with all of his willpower. He was stunned by the awesome display of power and he had held out a small hope that once the enemies were defeated, the Beast would be sated.

No such luck.

It was like trying to put a leash on a grizzly bear. No matter what Hal did, the Beast acted like he didn’t even exist.

For all he knew, it wasn’t even aware of him.

He wasn’t sure if the Beast could kill them and he didn’t want to find out. The results, no matter which way the fight went, would be devastating.

There would be no winners.

Hal tried to use the party communication but nothing happened. His fear redoubled when, through the Beast’s red-glowing eyes, he saw Ashera tending to both Mira and Elora.

It wasn’t much of a relief to see Mira’s eyes open and the weakened elf getting to her feet.

Ashera had pulled the pair onto her side of the breach. The Wortlings stood around, as useless as any other houseplant. The Beast paused a moment to regard Noth up above and just inside the broken entrance to the hall.

There was no golden tether between her and Hal anymore. The Reaper writhed in the air, pale hands clasped to the sides of her head as if a horrible sound assaulted her.

He reached out with Dominate, already knowing it would be fruitless, and tried to cast it on himself. With no hands to invoke the magic, nothing happened.

However, he felt a faint tremor. A tenuous thread that either the Beast overlooked or was incapable of controlling. While the two Founder Sigils may have remained under Hal’s control, without the use of his body they were worthless.

All except one.

The Wortlings were still dominated. Hal could feel them in the back of his mind. He was so caught up in his fear and awe that he nearly forgot about them.

With a mental command, one of the Wortlings twitched an arm. The beginning of a plan came to him then. But he needed time to pull it off. With the enhanced vision the Beast afforded him, he saw cracks in the cavern floor.

If he was lucky, the Wortlings may be able to use Root there. At least he hoped. And, with them anchored, he could force them to restrain the Beast while they continually regenerated their HP.

It was a long shot.

If Hal played his hand too soon, the Beast would spot the movement and cut them down. Though the remaining four had considerable HP, he doubted they stood much of a chance. Not against the Beast’s command of magic.

“Noth, can you hear me?” Hal reached out to the writhing Reaper. “Please say you can.”

The Beast disregarded the Reaper and moved toward Ashera. Hal wasn’t surprised that Ashera knew something was wrong. She placed a hand up and with the other, drew a series of symbols that left a faint trace of light in the air.

A wall of lilac energy sprang up between the Beast and Hal’s friends. “Hal, if you’re still in there, I need you to fight this.” She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. “Please, fight this. We are not your enemies. I do not want to hurt you.” The way her voice cracked tore at Hal’s heart.

Mira and Elora were, understandably, confused by what was going on.

“It hurts,” was all the Reaper replied.

The Beast pressed one bloodied hand to the barrier, testing it like a curious animal. Hal turned away from the display. He focused on Noth, on their connection.

As he imagined the golden tether, it began to form once more. Only, this time it was thin and pale. Like moonlight, with only the faintest yellow tinge.

“Don’t give up on me, Nothricient. I need you.”

He had no illusions that the Beast would eventually tear through Ashera’s barrier.

The Sin Keeper was buying him time. Avoiding the inevitable fight as long as she could. He silently thanked her as he bent all his will away from the Beast and to the tether to the Reaper.

“I can’t help you,” she said. “I am not meant to be on the material plane. Sever the tether and let me be consumed!” The Reaper flailed in the air, stretching the thin tether to its breaking point as she struggled to get away, consumed by pain.

Hal poured every ounce of his willpower into that nascent tether. It thickened but retained its glistening moonlit pallor. He pulled on it with all his might as if he were lassoing the moon itself.

It hurt him to see the normally imperious and stoic Reaper in so much agony. To think that he caused it.

Another weight for his already-pressed shoulders. But he would not let her die. If severing the tether would have saved her, if it hadn’t seemed like it would end her existence, he would have done it in a heartbeat.

He would have found another way to save his friends from the Beast. From the darkest part of himself.

As soon as the tether solidified, the Reaper came to her senses. She ceased her flailing and calmed immediately, floating down behind the Beast.

“Thank you, Hal, I… I do not know what came over me,” she said more sincere than he ever heard her before.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Hal said, “I need you to do something for me. And it’s not going to be easy.”

Hal turned his attention back to the Beast.

Like a rabid, caged animal, he was throwing everything Hal had at the barrier. And it was working. Ashera’s face was flushed with exertion and glistened with sweat. The barrier itself seemed thin and ready to break.

The bonds with his companions, his friends, made him strong. Together they were greater than the sum of their parts. He held to that faith. He may not have stood a chance against the Beast on his own. But together?

He almost pitied the Beast.

“Now,” Hal said, tugging with all his soul at the tether between Hal and the Reaper.

The effect was immediate.

The Beast swung a bone-spiked tentacle at the barrier, only to have it pass harmlessly through. Ashera flinched and shut her eyes but to her immense credit, she did not stop the spell.

Ashera, Vorax, Elora, and even Mira looked up with awe as the Beast was as insubstantial as mist. Noth’s black greaves touched down to the floor behind it. And for the first time, everybody witnessed her terrible glory as she spread her raven-black wings as wide as the hall would allow and brandished her scythe.

The tether strained, but Hal kept it together as Noth retreated through the breach and into the tunnel beyond. Unable to resist the pull and with no corporeal body to hold onto anything, the Beast was dragged away kicking and wailing wordlessly.

68

The tether between Noth and the Beast strained to the limit. It took everything Hal had to keep the moonlit cord from snapping. He reminded himself of the cost of his failure. Without the strange magic of the tether, the Beast would become corporeal once more and his friends would be in danger.

Together, Hal and Noth dragged the Beast back into the tunnel beyond the hall. It was a slow and painful march. Hal could feel the Beast’s considerable willpower strain against their attempts, and more than once it came close to breaking free.

Whenever he could manage, Hal sent a mental command to the Wortlings. There were only four left, but he hoped they would be enough. They had to be if there was any hope of stopping the Beast.

There wasn’t enough time to send anything complex, simple move commands were all Hal had the capacity for. Anything more and his concentration on maintaining the tether would be jeopardized.

As the cracked cavern floor came into view, and with the Beast distracted, Hal instructed the Wortlings into the wide cavern beyond the tunnels. One by one the Wortlings enacted their Root ability.

The ability said nothing about being unable to act while rooted. Hal could only hope his desperate plan would work. With each of the four positioned around the Beast, they successfully Rooted into the broken floor.

Hal breathed a sigh of relief, the ability worked. He was as ready as he ever would be.

“Okay, Noth, let him go.”

“Gladly,” Noth replied, her voice strained.

The Beast was free and corporeal all of a second before Hal was able to command all four Wortlings to Vine Lash him. But even that was enough that he was halfway to the tunnel mouth before the Wortlings reeled him back.

Hal surprisingly felt no pain as the barbed vines whipped around his body. Felt nothing at all as they dragged him back toward the four Wortlings at his command.

It did nothing to make Hal feel better. If anything, it illustrated just how far he had fallen. To not even feel the basic sensations of his body showed him how much control the Beast had assumed.

This has to work, Hal repeated in his head. It was a litany against the fear of what he would unleash upon his friends.

The Beast shifted from one essence to another, but Hal apparently had nothing at his disposal that was strong to plant-based creatures.

His skin shifted to hardened bark, lessening the bite of the Vine Lash. No longer having to control the tether, Hal could focus all of his effort on the Wortlings.

The Beast struggled and whipped its tentacles about in an attempt to reach the Wortlings but Hal was careful with their positioning. They were beyond the reach of his tentacles, but only just.

Even after studying the Beast so intently, he was surprised at just how far the creature could reach.

Vines snapped under the assault but the Beast could only get one or two at a time. Each time one vine was cut, another leaped out and encircled the usurper.

Hal was going to use Needleshot to give the Wortlings their Woodsense back when he realized an interesting effect of having them use Root.

While the Wortlings were rooted, they were considered trees. And as their roots ran under the stone, their Woodsense expanded to the limit of their root network.

A network that grew by the second.

So long as the Wortlings were rooted, they could sense. If one nearby Wortling was rooted, the others could use its Woodsense. Not exactly a ground-breaking discovery but Hal put it away in a back pocket for later. It was useful, just like knowing that the Wortlings could still act while rooted.

It would make them powerful, and terribly surprising, sentries.

But none of that would matter if the Beast took control of him then and there. He hoped if he knocked the Beast out, Hal would be able to reassume control.

Even now, he barely had the Beast at a standstill.

Noth, still tethered by a pale silvery cord, disappeared into the tunnels. She understood what Hal did. Without help, the Beast would eventually recover enough MP to cast a spell and break the hold or its Strain would rise enough to spell the end for Hal.

A stalemate wasn’t enough. He needed his friends.

But she couldn’t reach them. Not with the tether intact. Noth reached the same conclusion shortly after he did. “Release the tether, Hal…”

He almost did it, but he knew if he did and she couldn’t get back to him… no, he wouldn’t risk her like that. Instead, focusing on the tether he thinned it. Stretching it out and weakening it, giving Noth the slack she needed to reach the others.

With the fierce battle against the Shadow Crawlers and the Shadow Predators, Hal’s HP had taken quite a few hits. He knew, without a doubt, that if he was in the driver’s seat he would probably be dead if he attempted what the Beast did.

Instead, he was at 108 HP and dropping slowly but steadily.

As it was, even with the Feral Strain Affliction, his body couldn’t regenerate enough HP every minute to counter the continuous Vine Lash damage. The true danger was in his MP regeneration.

With the Beast having exhausted most of his MP – and Hal before that by utilizing Drill Branch to break through the wall to Elora and Mira beyond – his spells were out of reach.

For now.

Every minute that passed only aided the Beast. His Strain ticked up all on its own without any need to cast a spell that incurred more. As his Strain rose up to 35 - 15 points over his max - once more and his HP dipped to 95, Hal realized the awful truth.

His Strain was going to max out long before the Beast’s HP dropped low enough to render him unconscious. And even then, what proof did he have that the Strain would stop increasing?

It seemed to be increased by the way the Beast was tapping into his essence powers. Sharp bone-ridged tentacles whipped off the Beast’s body and lashed out at the vines and the Wortlings themselves.

Vines were severed by the saw-like ridges of bone but Hal was quick to replace them. The damage the Wortlings sustained was startling but not unmanageable. Every cut vine chipped away at the Wortling’s HP.

Every second the Beast remained in control it grew stronger, smarter. The sharp-ridged bones on its tentacles sliced through the vines with greater ease and though Hal could replace them, it was a constant struggle.

One he was beginning to lose.

Instinctively reaching into his innate Assimilation ability, Hal tried to shore up any Wortling that was damaged by the savage assault. The Beast was there, ripping what little control Hal managed away from him.

For a second, Hal felt the power ready to come to his call. He had taken a fraction of control back. It wasn’t enough. He could keep trying, activate Assimilate in the brief moments he could wrest control. But that would take time.

Time that the Beast knew Hal didn’t have.

Even as Hal was whittling away at its HP, the Beast’s Strain hit a new level. And a terrible wrenching pain twisted in Hal’s gut.

Strain Affliction Lv.4 (Primal).

The Beast has seized control and steadily marches toward its ultimate evolution. That of an utterly alien creature, divorced of its human moralities and emotions. As the Beast reaches ever deeper into its wellspring of corrupting power, it becomes more akin to an abomination from beyond the stars.

Unable to stem the tide of otherworldly corruption, there is little you can do now to prevent the ultimate corruption of power.

Beast Magic Efficacy +300% | Beast Magic Damage +300%.

Essence Tier +2 | Beast Magic Tier +2.

Max HP +50% | Max MP +50%.

HP Regen +65% | MP Regen +65%.

MP Cost -25% | Strain Accumulation +100%.

Unlocked Ability: The Dark Between

Summon otherworldly darkness from beyond the farthest stars in a 30ft cloud. All other creatures within take Corruption Damage and are Blinded, Muted, and Deafened. Only the Beast can see within the impossible darkness.

Unlocked Trait: Beyond the Veil

While within the corrupting shroud of The Dark Between, you gradually recover HP.

Quest Update: The Beast Within.

The abomination within you has reached its penultimate form. Time is running out. Each second the Beast gains more power and once it fully takes control its first act will be to track down every personal connection made and destroy them. Few, if any, Beastbornes have been able to turn back this tide of antediluvian power once unleashed.

Reclaim yourself. Or lose everything.

Objectives:

- Reclaim your mind and body before hitting Strain Lv.5.

Rewards:

- Maximum Strain Increase +.

- Beast Magic Skill Increase +.

- New Trait.

Hal quailed at the messages before him. He was partially amazed that they came through at all. Even as his heart dropped at reading the horribly demoralizing turn of events, the Beast acted.

A terrible ripping sound filled the cavern, echoing with disconcerting reverberations. Elora, Mira, Ashera, and even Vorax stormed out of the tunnels. All of their expressions were the same mix of horror and fear at what they saw.

Through the rip in the very fabric of reality, a cloud of frigid inky corruption flooded into the cavern. It smothered all light. All hope.

The Wortlings took incredible amounts of damage but worse was the Beast’s quickening HP regeneration. Hal had to continually Vine Lash because every few seconds the corruption would eat through the vine. It didn’t matter. The Beast now out-healed anything he could dish out while rooted.

Needleshot did negligible damage, though Hal felt he had to try. It was clearly a utility spell, after all.

As Hal sank deeper into despair, an unshakeable battle cry stole him from his thoughts. It wasn’t fierce Mira’s lilting tones, nor was it Elora’s melodic voice.

It was Ashera’s. Her normally calm and quiet demeanor shattered like a pane of glass, her wordless cry denied the devastating scene before her.

Hal watched her wade into the corrupting darkness without a moment’s hesitation. Noth floated in behind her, whispering into her ear. The Beast, with its MP regenerating faster than Hal originally anticipated, had a spell ready for the Sin Keeper.

The air warped and twisted as Drill Branch churned the air. Before it could hit the oblivious Ashera, two Wortlings leaped out. One onto the spell, the other hitting the Beast with a hefty dose of sleeping toxin.

The first broke apart on the spell before it could reach out to Ashera, and the second’s attacks broke the Beast’s concentration on the spell and it faded.

Ashera was safe for now.

But how much longer could he keep his friends safe? The sheer sides of the glassy rock that lined the circular pit of his mental imprisonment possessed no handholds. And Hal, no mountain climber, would have struggled even if it had been made of typical rock.

Without all four Wortlings leashing the Beast, it broke free of the remaining two. Hal grimaced and sent another Wortling toward the Beast. He needed to distract the Beast, to divert his attention from Ashera to give her an opening.

The Sin Keeper waded into the battle, whipping a spell of blazing light that collided into the Beast in a glancing blow. The explosive blast was swallowed by the cloud of corruption and Ashera had no way to know if it hit or not.

Staggered back onto his heel, the Beast was stunned long enough for the Wortlings to unleash a barrage of toxin-laced strikes. It was one of Hal’s last hopes, that the sleep toxin would knock out the thing that stole his body.

It shrugged off the toxins and in a flash the [Goblinbane] weaved about, hacking apart the Wortlings. Two needle-tipped tentacles jabbed into the badly wounded Wortlings, draining away the last of their life.

Ashera came in behind that last Wortling, moving so fast that the Beast didn’t have time to muster any sort of defense. She had a black mace that was practically invisible in the dim environment of the cloud and swung it in an upward arc.

It connected solidly with the Beast’s chin but Ashera couldn’t see the sharp-ridged tentacles that lashed out and around her. Her mouth opened and twisted in a mute scream. Blood splashed from the gruesome cuts on her side and back even as the Beast arced through the air from her hit.

His tentacles snapped back, fast as thought, and braced him. The eight appendages caught him before he ever crashed into the ground. They twisted and coiled, lifting him effortlessly to his feet.

Now it was the Beast’s turn.

69

Ashera was blind, mute, and deaf. Luckily, she didn’t need any of those senses to hear the Reaper’s guiding voice. Noth did not use any mortal means to communicate. And Ashera had long-since attuned to those emanations.

“He’s coming at you now, two tentacles on the left, one snaking around behind,” came Noth’s instructive voice.

Her assistance allowed Ashera to duck, weave, and slip past Hal’s initial assault. Like most monsters – and poor fighters - it spent its fury all at once and then backed away.

Hal was better than this, she had witnessed his growing prowess first hand.

But this was not Hal.

It wore his face and had his body but it was not him. Even if Noth hadn’t explained what was going on to Ashera – who then relayed it to Mira and Elora – she would have known the difference.

Ashera came in close under a swipe of the blade. She felt the air rush just above her horns and tightened the grip on her mace, [Stargiver]. So named for its apt concussive enchantment that, when triggered, dazed most creatures.

Her hand whipped across, aiming for his knee and at the same time enacting the devastating enchantment.

She could hear nothing, see nothing, but she felt the solid bone-rattling impact reverberate through the handle. Knew, without having to see that Hal’s knee would be shattered from the blow.

You’ve knocked him off his feet, he’s falling sideways in front of you. Blade, straight jab.

Trusting in Noth’s guidance, Ashera shifted her weight to her back foot and twisted to the side. Ashera transferred her mace from her right to left hand, dipping her leading shoulder. She continued the spin, coming in to connect solidly with an underhanded blow.

Another burst of concussive force tingled her palm.

You knocked him out of the cloud, to your left. He’s down. Wow, Ashera. You do know I can’t bring him back to life if you kill him, right?

Ashera nodded, her skin burned with the dark presence of the cloud and she was quick to exit it and breathe the relatively fresh air of the cavern.

She worried for Hal.

His very soul was being consumed by impenetrable darkness. Elora and Mira were still injured, Ashera did all she could and gave them each a few potions. But there were limits to how much she could heal and potions had their own drawbacks.

Healing was not such a simple art that anybody with a bit of MP could sling a spell and the person was cured.

In all her life, she had never seen anything so monstrous. But it wasn’t evil, of that she was certain. It would be hard for something purely evil to take root inside somebody like Hal.

He had no idea what power he had within him, and ironically the Sin Keeper knew it had nothing to do with his newfound Class. Nothing to do with being a Founder. In all likelihood, it was what Hal considered his main weakness: his naïve hope that he could make things better. Connecting people to a common cause.

The Beast inside him was doing all it could to smother that light.

And that, Ashera could not abide.

Elora and Mira, seeing Hal exit the cloud were on him in a second along with the lone remaining Wortling. It staggered out of the cloud, bits of its thick bark-like skin sloughing off with every step.

Now that Ashera could see, she winced at the way Hal’s face was twisted into a rictus of pain. She knew several of his ribs were now broken. One of his lungs may even be collapsed.

But it was a risk worth taking.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, it would be better to kill Hal than to allow him to transform into an abomination. It would be a kindness.

Mira leaped into the sky and came down a moment later, the blunt end of her spear jammed into Hal’s middle. His bizarre knife-ridged pseudopods came up a moment later and threw the Dragoon, bleeding from their touch, from his body.

They bent backward and pushed Hal to his feet. Ashera wracked her brain for a way to help him. Beating him would, at best, distract the thing inside him. Provided they didn’t let it get an upper hand.

Waves of blue and red mana rolled off in thick bands that arced and dissipated into the air. Ashera noted the stark change since she erected her barrier to ward him off.

Back then, hardly ten minutes ago, the uncontained mana waves were an even mix of blue and red. Now, it was almost entirely red. A few flickers of blue. Nothing more.

She hardly knew what that meant but she could take a guess. Hal was losing the fight for control.

A moment later, Noth confirmed her fears.

“He can’t hold the Beast back much longer. Before he changes, he asks that we put him down. He does not wish to become a monster.”

“It won’t come to that,” Ashera thought back to her. “Tell him not to give up.”

She would do it, but she did not need Hal to know that she would prefer that end over his transformation. He needed hope. Something to cling to.

But when she saw the state Hal was in, her faith faltered. Fear rose like bile in her throat and choked off the inspiring words she was about to call out to him.

Hal’s body was transforming into something horrific. His body was wrapped in pitch-black bubbling shadow. It roiled and separated from his body like blobs of melted wax in a glass of water. His eyes were glowing red pits of rage and bestial aggression.

The Beast snarled and rose to its feet, though the very act should have been wracked with so much agony as to make that impossible.

Black wings sprouted from its back, dripping oily shadow in a puddle around him. Red waves of mana rippled in the air between them.

Mira struggled to her feet, voicing what they were all thinking. “We’re too late.”

Ashera couldn’t believe it, didn’t allow herself to entertain the horrible thoughts. Even with the proof in front of her, she couldn’t lift a hand against him. And in the end, she knew she would fail him.

For all her brave words about doing what was right. That she would rather see him dead instead of turned into a monster… when it came down to actual doing it, she didn’t have the strength.

Not Hal, she silently prayed. Anybody else, please.

Her heart grew heavy. “Is there nothing you can do?”

Noth looked at her and hovered toward Hal. “No, even now our connection wanes. He gave up much of his strength to tether me again. And the Beast in control has all but locked me out.”

“But the Beast is Hal, right?” Ashera reasoned. “That means the Beast’s strength is Hal’s strength. Even if he doesn’t know it. The Beast can’t be stronger than Hal.”

“This is forbidden magic, Ashera,” Noth said, golden eyes leveled at the transforming Beast. “The rules you know do not apply.”

She looked to Elora, shock ran through her anew at the tears in the Ranger’s eyes. But Elora, so unlike herself, knew what she had to do.

Whatever her feelings were on the matter, she would carry out her duty. Elora nocked a silvery arrow. When Ashera recognized the deadly strength it held, her eyes went wide.

Before Ashera could stop her, Elora let fly the silver arrow. It cracked through the air like a lightning bolt, leaving a silver afterimage in its wake.

The Ranger was one of the fastest archers Ashera had ever seen. And so it startled her more than a little to see the Beast’s oily-black hand flash out and catch the arrow an inch from hitting its mark.

Of course, Elora was full of tricks. And the surprise was the Beast’s when the arrow exploded in a disorienting flash of sound and light.

“No!” Ashera cried.

* * *

Hal struggled against the Beast. Just as he thought the tables turned and Ashera was walking into a trap, she turned the attack on the Beast. What came was a sudden wave of such intense, nauseating pain that Hal nearly blacked out.

He didn’t miss the implications but neither did he want to tip his hand so soon. One chance. That was all he knew he would get. If he tried to reach for control too soon, the Beast would be put on guard.

His only hope was that his friends would batter the Beast to the point that it was so distracted by the battle that it failed to notice Hal until it was too late.

All he needed was a few seconds. Enough time to reach out to use Assimilation. As the Beast’s Strain steadily gained ground, time was against him.

Hal gave up his meager attempts to fight for control. He curled up into a ball of pain in the lonely pit somewhere in the deep dark recesses of his mind. It wasn’t hard to embrace the agonizing pain that wracked his body.

Again and again, Hal watched as the Beast struck out and failed to overwhelm the Sin Keeper despite the obvious advantages. That was when he noticed Noth.

Beautiful, ghostly Noth.

Immaterial and not of this plane of existence, magic didn’t seem to touch her. And so, unlike Ashera, she could see in the cloud of corrupting darkness. With her guidance, Ashera just barely managed to turn the tide against the Beast.

Much to Hal’s joy.

Unfortunately, his happiness was short-lived. As the Beast became increasingly focused on the troublesome Sin Keeper, it relinquished some of its defenses. The very fact that Hal could feel his own body again stood as a testament to that.

His knee was a bright star of blinding pain, and when Ashera batted him in the ribs, he did blackout for a moment.

When Hal came to, the Beast was rising to its feet. Despite the broken knee, ignoring the shattered ribs and his one lung that couldn’t get any air, it stood. Hal’s mind was awash in a sea of torment.

Part of Hal was impressed with the Beast. And though he secretly cheered for every pain, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

His HP was dipping into the red, his Strain was already 50 and was similarly flashing dangerously. If his Strain was already maxed out, why didn’t the quest fail?

More importantly, why wasn’t the Beast transforming?

Hal understood a moment later. The Beast was torn. With the pain clouding its mind, it could force Hal out and keep control while fighting, or it could reach for its final evolution.

The Beast could only do two simultaneously. And with the full force of his friends arrayed against the Beast, it was forced to decide which was the greater threat. Hal, or his companions that had beaten it to within an inch of death.

With bated breath, Hal waited. He kept impossibly still, understanding that his opportunity was coming up.

However, the Beast was no fool. It understood Hal’s mind, or perhaps it merely understood the weakness it would leave open. While the Beast dared not lower its guard against Mira, Elora, Vorax, and Ashera, it knew a way to protect itself from Hal.

A lid slid over the top of the pit Hal was stuck in. As soon as it shut off the light, Hal was alone.

Alone with his thoughts. Alone in the depths of impossible darkness to which there was no end.

He was cut off, completely and utterly from everything but the pain. Hal drifted in the dark, assured that he had failed before he ever had a chance.

He felt diminished, detached.

* * *

The Beast’s red-soaked vision took in the scene before it. The Sin Keeper was weak, she didn’t have the resolve to do what needed to be done. As soon as it was sure Hal was dealt with, the Beast could reach its pinnacle of power.

All it needed to do was reach out and attain its rightful godhood. Then it would shed its husk of a weak host and join its brethren among the dark spaces between the stars.

Where all Horrors belong.

The Ranger fired, just as the Beast knew she would. That one had a spine of starmetal. It would be a shame to kill her. The silver lightning streaked toward the Beast’s heart and it snatched the arrow out of the air.

It was already beyond such petty attacks.

Everything was going according to the Beast’s wishes. Just as it desired. Just as so many Beasts before it had taken over those who reached too greedily for power they could not control.

Yes, everything was going according to plan. Right until the silver arrow exploded.

70

Chaos.

That was the only word for it.

Just as Hal reached too far within his Beast Magic and awoke something terribly dreadful, so too did the Beast err akin to its progenitor.

In its complete belief of supremacy, it sought to destroy Hal, attain its Godhood, and fend off the attacks of his friends all at once.

Hal understood what the Beast failed to recognize.

Grasping for so much, the Beast was caught unawares when the silver-shaft exploded into a rain of biting metal, ringing sound, and blinding light.

In that instant, its grip weakened. The Beast had overextended.

So sure of its supremacy that even as it banished Hal to the darkest corners of his mind, it thought nothing of him or what reserves of will he might possess. It thought Hal a broken, pitiful wretch.

The Beast erred. And for the first time in its short life, it knew fear.

* * *

Adrift in darkness, mute or deaf it didn’t matter, Hal screamed into the void. Where before only his body was cut off, now everything was gone. No HUD, no Founder powers, no sensation at all.

He was completely untethered.

It wasn’t fair. He wouldn’t accept it. He knew few things ever worked out as they were supposed to but this was unacceptable.

All throughout his life he had been a doormat out of politeness, out of requirement and familial duties. “Don’t rock the boat, son.” They would say. “The nail that sticks out gets hammered,” his father was fond of saying. And by far the worst, “Keep your nose to the grindstone and work hard at the lot you are given.”

No more. Hal raged against the soundless void that enfolded him so uncaringly.

When a thin crack of light split the darkness ahead of him, he was ready. Eager even. He knew nothing of what was going on. The greater battle ahead seemed inconsequential to him now.

Hal wanted nothing more than to make the Beast pay. Even if it cost him his own life. He was ready when the sliver of light came. Hal reached out to the ragged edges of that light, tearing it wide open. He was surprised how far his reach suddenly was.

Out came Hal into the deepest recesses of the Beast, once separate, now bridged by a single lapse of concentration.

Before he even hit the ground, Hal tapped into his Assimilation and wrenched his HP away into the wounded Wortling standing stock-still off to the side. He grabbed onto that thread of his Founder's powers and held tight to it.

The Beast, through some means that Hal hardly cared to understand at that moment, had taken its HP from the brink of death to more than half.

Unrelenting, Hal’s rage refused to relinquish control as he drained away his own HP. If he died, at least he would die by his hand, on his terms. Not turned into some monstrosity.

“I would rather die, do you hear me?” he screamed, hands and knees on the hard formless floor somewhere within his mind.

Sensation came back to him and he needed a moment to reorient his senses to having a body, to feeling mostly whole.

The brightness dimmed, and Hal looked up into the red-glowing eyes of the Beast. Its body was shade made material. Wings stretched behind its back. The shadow had an oily quality to it. Not quite oily, Hal corrected. It looks like a lava lamp. Constantly melting and rising away from the heat.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Hal clutched tightly to his rage. Beyond the outrage and anger, he could feel the Beast attempting to wrest back control. So long as he held onto that anger, the Beast was powerless to stop him.

The Beast could control every other part of his body, all of his magic. But with Hal in control of his Assimilation, the Beast was at his mercy for once.

“You will die too,” the Beast said, its voice a deeper baritone than Hal’s. Though, perhaps unsurprisingly, not dissimilar.

Hal rose to his feet and stood before the creature. Featureless light spread out in every direction, obliterating any shadow but the roiling substance the Beast was made from.

“I don’t care,” Hal said with more conviction than he expected.

The Beast roared right in his face, but Hal remained steadfast. This was his life.

“Power beyond your reckoning is at hand. You could share in godhood. Surely that is better than your fleeting, miserable, anxiety-ridden life.” The Beast leaned in so close that Hal could feel the heat from its breath on his face. “I have seen inside your mind, Hal Williams. I am a part of you. I know the depths of your cowardice. You will relent.”

With a grin, Hal tightened his fist and twisted. The pain he knew would come failed to arrive but it didn’t matter. With that movement, Hal dropped his HP to 10.

Hal was beyond pain. He was free. From the pain, from the fear. His choice was already made. Death was preferable to enslavement. In his mind, he was already dead.

There was nothing the Beast could offer him. No power, no godhood. It controlled the vast majority of Hal’s mind and body but it could not prevent its own destruction.

It had no leverage.

Even if it had, the Beast was unsure whether this human would even be capable of accepting any deal it might offer.

The Beast had underestimated Hal.

They shared the same mind in that light-filled chamber where no shadows were cast. The Beast thought it understood Hal. It could not have foreseen the turn of events that brought it here.

It had been so close to godhood. To being something more.

Now it was stuck here, debasing itself to a mortal of all things.

The Beast could kill Hal, but to what end? The Beast, unlike Hal, wanted to live. It didn’t want to cease its existence and its survival instinct was not malfunctioning like Hal’s was.

They both knew there was only one way this was going to end without the utter destruction of them both. Assimilation, unlike most other forms of damage, would kill them the moment it dropped Hal to 0 HP. He would not be knocked out as was normal.

He would be dead.

The Beast was not stupid. It was, after all, a part of Hal. An echo of his darkest parts, amplified and twisted by uncontrolled magic, but it was still him.

They stared at each other, their thoughts circling around and around. Every attempt the Beast thought to foil Hal was met with the same end. Death.

Eventually, even the indomitable Beast gave up. Every plea, every fight, every threat fell upon deaf ears.

There was no need for words. They were each a part of the other, their mind was one. But Hal spoke them anyway, “We both know there’s only one way this ends, Beast.”

The Beast, knowing the futility of reasoning with Hal, did the only thing it could. It bent a knee and lowered its head, submitting.

A life joined to one as ruthless and firm in his convictions as Hal would not be so bad, it reasoned. Even though it knew there was no other choice. It would not die, its instincts refused to allow that to happen no matter the cost.

Hal understood the magnitude of the Beast’s gesture. Some small part of Hal’s mind screamed out that this was a trick. A last-ditch effort by the Beast to wrest control once more. The only option was death, just as Hal always knew it would be.

The Beast’s red-glowing eyes flashed up to stare wide-eyed and filled with fear at Hal. But Hal knew the Beast’s mind as he knew his own.

Reaching out his hand, Hal rested his palm on the Beast’s shadowy head. No more words were spoken between them as the Beast submitted to Hal’s will, chaining its considerable power to Hal.

At least until Hal overreached again and set it free.

Hal was willing to accept that concession. He knew the Beast’s mind now and how he might deal with it in the future.

Black veins crawled up Hal’s arm as the Beast diminished, absorbed by its new master. It would have plenty of time to ponder the meaning of strength. A newfound respect for Hal blossomed in the thing’s thoughts. In the end, the terrible loss was acceptable.

Before it vanished completely, the Beast imparted one final thought to Hal.

My name is Besal.

* * *

As Elora took another arrow from the quiver at her hip, Ashera tackled her. “No,” she cried again. “You’ll kill him!”

Elora’s gray-blue eyes, hard as ice, looked back at her though tears stained her cheeks. “I know.”

Mira, uncertain of what to do and wary of the Beast, stood on the sidelines using her a battered spear like a crutch. In the chaos, Vorax rushed up to Hal and waved its pseudopods in the air threateningly at the three companions, clearly defending Hal.

Teeth, gleaming silvery things as wide as Ashera’s palm, sprouted all along the edges of the treasure chest’s lid, forming a formidable mouth.

“Stop, just stop and look, will you!” Ashera released her grip on Elora and jabbed the air with her free hand.

Elora saw the same thing Ashera did.

The arrow’s explosion brought the Beast to its knees, its eyes shut in pain. Though Ashera believed it was the internal struggle, not the arrow, that caused it to fall silent.

But that wasn’t what held the Sin Keeper’s attention. It was the waves of rippling mana emanating from the black shadow-clad body.

What was once entirely ruby red began to fill with sapphire blue waves. Slowly, the red was displaced by the blue.

Though Ashera counted herself an optimist, she couldn’t suppress the spike of surprise – or the surge of joy that followed – when the Beast opened its eyes once more, revealing sapphire blue glowing eyes.

Every last trace of red vanished from his body.

Hal rose unsteadily to his feet. Ashera was certain it was now Hal in control, not the Beast. Only Vorax seemed to have known all along that Hal would prevail.

Still covered in the black oily shadow, Hal looked at his arm curiously as if it was somebody else’s. Ashera guessed it would feel like it was. Glowing light rippled out from the shadow covering his skin.

Brilliant light engulfed his fingertips, burning away the shadow in thick flakes of ash that rose up on unseen currents and vanished. The light turned Hal’s hand into a beacon that slowly crept up his arm and engulfed his entire body.

In one flash of brilliance, the shadow was burned from his body, leaving Hal just as he had been. Dark brown eyes replaced the Beast’s burning reds once more.

Ashera ran to Hal. His HP was in the single digits.

* * *

Somehow, he won. The coruscating light that engulfed his body faded, leaving unblemished skin behind.

Hal noticed Vorax then, waving his purple pseudopods in front of Hal. He sent soothing images to the mimic, calming the creature and turning it around to face him.

Hal dropped to a knee from the sudden weakness that stole over every inch of his body. He draped an arm over the mimic. Its vicious façade fell away instantly.

“I’m okay little buddy,” he whispered to Vorax. “I’m okay.”

The mimic imparted its own mental barrage of shoving golden gauntlets, gem-encrusted sallets, and mythril-engraved shields onto Hal’s plate; the mimic’s idea of a feast fit for a king.

Hal wasn’t sure whether the perceptive mimic wanted to reward him for winning his internal struggle, or it thought a feast would help bolster Hal’s 5 HP.

Before Hal could collapse, Ashera was there at his side, and surprisingly so was Elora. They gently laid him on the ground. Though Vorax allowed Elora close, he still seemed distrustful of the women and wouldn’t leave Hal’s side.

“Ease him back down,” Ashera commanded.

Hal shut his eyes and somebody slapped his face. “Keep those eyes open,” Elora said, her own were bloodshot and watery. Was she crying? “I need you to stay awake, Hal.”

He nodded, more in understanding than agreement.

Struggling against the strength that leeched out of his body with every passing second, Hal reached out to the Wortling to draw on its HP with Assimilation only to realize he couldn’t.

The Wortling was gone. It was no longer under his control.

71

“Where’s the Wortling?” Hal managed to ask as Ashera fed him a potion.

The Sin Keeper looked around but hardly seemed concerned.

“Just drink the potion,” Elora pleaded. Hal turned his weary gaze her way and she looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

It should have been completely immobile. Unless it was controlled by something else. Hal expected that the Dominate sigil would give him some warning. Maybe it would have if he hadn’t been entirely devoted to the task of killing himself.

A feat, ironically, he intended to do through the use of the Dominate sigil. The only explanation was that, during their merging, the connection was severed somehow. He was still dumbfounded that he was alive.

His friends saved him. And then somehow managed to ignore the very clear and present danger of his transformation, affording him the time to wrest control back from Besal. From the Beast.

He was still there. In the back of his mind, pacing. No longer an instinctive urging, Besal was apart from Hal. His own entity.

The feeling scared Hal more than a little.

“Is everything okay now?” Mira asked. She used her spear like a walking stick to make her way over, favoring her left leg. Her right had large gashes in the supple armor that were stained bright red.

Hal nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “For everything….” He wanted to say more. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Before he could get another word out, Ashera laid a hand on his shoulder. “Nobody blames you, Hal. If not for you, Mira and Elora might not have made it. There were well over a dozen of those creatures out there. I saw you fight them off. Or… I guess I saw the Beast fight them off.” She shrugged as if the difference was minimal and it strangely made Hal feel better. “Because of you, I was able to heal them. Combined with the Health Potions you helped me brew, I was able to bring them to a stable condition.”

“Yeah,” Mira said, leaning heavily on her spear shaft. “Thanks for that, Hal. I didn’t know you dabbled in the crafting arts but I’m certainly glad you did.”

Ashera looked over to Elora on the other side of Hal and nodded. Together they lifted the battered and bruised man to his feet and supported him as they walked back to the tunnel.

Vorax hovered - rather, he hopped and scooted his boxy frame around - about like a mother hen the entire way.

It felt odd not to command the Wortlings to flank them. In so short a time they had become like a second limb to him.

At least I have the two limbs that can be replanted, he thought. It was a consoling thought. Especially if he could ally himself with the creatures and not force his will upon them.

But that was for the future.

Back inside the tall worked stone hallway, Hal breathed a little easier. Until he noticed the crack. The tunnel he drilled created large splintering cracks in the stone of the halls. It ran in every direction in a radial spiral moving outward from the hole.

One, in particular, was nearly a handspan wide. It wrapped around the top of the hall and out of sight back the way they originally came.

Noth drifted above him like a guardian angel. “How many more times do you plan on cheating Death out of his due, Hal?”

Hal chuckled and barely had enough energy to shrug his shoulders. Ashera and Elora set him down so his back rested against the wall. The Sin Keeper eyed the Reaper and then bent back toward Hal.

She infused him with what was left of her own magic. It was enough to stabilize him, and with the sickly sweet [Health Potion] - notably tasting like blue cotton candy, from the [Witherroot] - he was in no danger of dying.

No more danger than usual, at least.

Mira took out another [Health Potion] and with a nod of approval from Ashera, downed it in one. “We’re going to need to rest, ya? Let’s see if I can’t find a more defensible position.” With that, the Dragoon limped off down the hall and out of sight.

In the end, Mira found a decent-sized room that they could camp in. It even had some cushioned seats they could throw on the floor.

Hal properly introduced Elora and Mira to Vorax. They were both clearly hesitant to approach the mimic, considering their last encounter with him was less-than-ideal.

But they accepted him after Hal explained that the mimic was sorry - he was not - and that Vorax was only trying to help Hal whom he considered as family. He added that Vorax would not do that again - he most definitely would - and if they didn’t accept the mimic with open arms, they did not look at him like an enemy.

Mira looked skeptically from the mimic to Hal. “That doesn’t seem like a very mimic thing to say,” she pointed out.

Hal turned to her and with his best Mira impression, he parroted her line from what felt like so long ago. “You don’t know.”

That drew a snort of laughter from the Dragoon who shrugged and let the matter drop.

Ashera made a small campfire, cooked a quick meal for everybody, and between downing potions to recover their HP, the group took care of their many hurts.

And for once, they relaxed.

Nothing was chasing them. They weren’t surrounded – strangely enough – by enemies trying to get them.

The talk inevitably turned to Giel and his sacrifice. And though the mood was somber, there was a sense of relief in the air. A feeling like they could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Though Hal worried things would get worse before they got better, he wisely kept his thoughts to himself. No use spoiling the mood.

They all toasted to Giel’s memory. What little stories they had of the hulking lamora they shared in remembrance. Elora remarked about the veritable treasure trove of potions Giel carried. And how, in the end, he drank them down at a dangerous pace to keep his HP up.

“Maybe he had enough to survive the battle,” Mira said hopefully. Though it was a nice thought, nobody believed it. Not after the description of the Mature Shoggoth that descended upon him.

And even if it hadn’t killed him, Giel would have likely succumbed to the toxic effects of downing so many potions back to back like that.

Given what he now understood of Strain Affliction, Hal was unsure of what to do. Losing himself to the Beast was inevitable. At some point, hopefully far in the future, he would overextend himself and slip.

The Fabled Class’s mechanics practically guaranteed it.

And so, everything he did that made him sturdier or stronger would also make Besal stronger when he took control. Heightened levels of Strain already increased his HP and MP, as well as their regeneration rates. It also lowered his MP cost at higher tiers which would only help Besal heighten the Strain Affliction.

It didn’t sit right with Hal, but he didn’t know any way around it. There was simply no solution. In the end, he couldn’t let fear rule his choices or stop him from progressing.

Looking at his Quests, he expected the completion of A Beast Within, but he didn’t understand how Scientific Endeavors was completed. He looked to the quests themselves, hoping for some illumination. He found several prompts that took him by surprise.

Quest Complete: The Beast Within.

Against all odds, you wrested control from the Beast named Besal. In asserting your control over the darkest aspects of yourself, you’ve attained a higher tolerance for the brutal magic of the Beastborne. Besal’s power still courses through your veins, a portion of the corrupting power he wielded is now imparted to you. Bear in mind this is merely the first trial of many to come. But for now, rest easy Beastborne.

Objectives:

- Reclaim your mind and body before hitting Strain Lv.5 (Complete).

Rewards:

- Maximum Strain Increase +.

- Beast Magic Skill Increase +.

- New Trait: Edge of Disaster.

- 1 Beast Magic Perk.

Quest Complete: Scientific Endeavors.

Upon fighting the Shadow Predators and Shadow Crawlers with shadow essence, you’ve learned that while similar essences increase status resistance, they mostly confuse monsters, and do not decrease damage dealt or taken. On the other hand, utilizing an opposing essence, such as your gamble of Humanity against Besal’s Horror, provides a uniquely combative experience.

Objectives

- Test the nature of channeling Monster Essence and its effects on monsters of similar nature and those of opposing nature (Complete).

Rewards

- All Attuned Essences +10.

Your Maximum Strain has increased by 25 points.

Your rate of Strain Accumulation has been reduced.

Your Beast Magic has risen to Level 7.

…

Your Beast Magic has risen to Level 10.

+3% Beast Magic potency ( +30%).

-2% MP cost (-4%).

You have 2 Beast Magic Perk point awaiting assignment.

Azure Fate 0/1

Embark upon the Azure Path, trading raw strength for greater control and efficiency.

Ruby Stars 0/1

Take your first step among the red-shifted stars of a dying universe, basking in the unfettered strength of the Elders.

New Trait: Edge of Disaster.

Every point of Strain acts as a point of Haste, increasing your movement and attack speed.

Language Unlocked: Deep Speech.

Nearly becoming an Eldritch Horror has left residual traces of the deep, corrupting influence on your mind. You are now able to understand the language of Eldritch Horrors and are resistant to the effects of their disconcerting speech.

Your [Duelist’s Bracers] are broken.

Your [Traveler’s Aketon] is broken.

Monster Attunements Available

Shadow: 2

Shadowy Presence 0/3

Become partially immaterial, making it difficult for physical attacks to land upon you. Chance increases in lower light.

Lv.1: -7% Chance attacks land. Effect increases up to double in complete darkness.

Lv.2: -9% Chance attacks land. Effect increases up to double in complete darkness.

Lv.3: -12% Chance attacks land. Effect increases up to double in complete darkness.

Shadetouched 0/1

Mold shadows to your body, increasing your DEF and MDEF by 15%.

Shadesight 0/1

Replaces and augments Darkvision, illuminating shadows in shining starlight and utter blackness in dim light.

Your Sword Skill has risen to Level 7.

Your Sword Skill has risen to Level 8.

+1% Sword damage (+8%).

-0.25% Sword durability loss (-2.0%).

Your Parry Skill has risen to Level 3.

Your Parry Skill has risen to Level 4.

+1% Parry success (+4%).

-1% Stamina cost (-4%).

Your Evasion Skill has risen to Level 2.

…

Your Evasion Skill has risen to Level 4.

+1% Evasion speed (+4%).

-1% Stamina cost (-4%).

Hal was overwhelmed with the prompts and the choices.

He looked at the rest of the perks he had left to pick, not to mention the rather ominous wording of Azure Fate and Ruby Stars. This was going to take some time.

Luckily, they were going to rest for the night. He had time.

72

With 2 shadow attunement points, his only real choice was which ability to pass on. Shadesight was a straight replacement of Darkvision. As far as he could tell, it was better in every way.

Darkvision had to be acclimatized. As Hal found out when they first entered the Coffin District, it was spoiled by bright light.

From the description, Shadesight didn’t appear to have those drawbacks. It illuminated the shadows and dark places instead of adapting the eye to it.

Considering all the dark places they had traveled lately and Hal’s deep-rooted concern of ambush and monsters popping out of the dark, Shadesight was a given.

That left only Shadetouched and Shadowy Presence. As with most other Monster Attunements, Shadowy Presence possessed several Levels or Tiers. Shadetouched seemed to be an outlier in that regard.

With only a single tier, it was sorely tempting. However, he also knew that with his broken gear his DEF and MDEF were suffering. And even if he bought a new set of gear once he got back to Murkmire – something he definitely planned on doing – 15% wasn’t all that much.

Shadowy Presence, on the other hand, would reduce the impact of DEF and MDEF. If he could avoid damage altogether, then Shadetouched became moot.

Of course, that also meant if he went too deeply into evasive measures that he’d be in for a world of pain if and when he ever did get hit.

Unlike Shadetouched, Shadowy Presence and Shadesight appeared to complement each other. Shadowy Presence worked better in lower light while Shadesight allowed Hal to see in no light and low light areas.

That synergy decided it for him. Hal attuned to both Shadowy Presence and Shadesight. While there weren’t many shadows in their well-lit room, Hal could see much better all the same.

Everything had a clearer, sharper focus as he Spliced shadow and treant essence.

It took time for his eyes to adjust to the strangeness of constant sight. At first, he thought there were no shadows. But slowly he came to realize the truth. The subtle shades of blue that overlaid the starlit corners and deeper places of the hall were shadows.

They only looked different but now that he knew what to look for, they were easy to spot. As for Shadowy Presence, he didn’t feel any different. The Barkskin was a few shades darker but he wasn’t rolling in wispy shadow.

And he definitely didn’t look anything like the Beast did. His skin was still his own, bark-like though it was. If he focused on it or waited long enough, the Barkskin took on an appearance no different than his usual skin.

Though he knew it covered his fingertips as well as everywhere else, there was no loss of sensation. He still marveled at that as he rolled his fingers about, examining them in greater detail.

It was a compulsion. He needed to be sure that everything was the same. After all, Besal had nearly taken full control of his body. He had changed the way it looked. What if he had webbed fingers or a sixth toe?

He shivered at the thought of extra appendages suddenly sprouting because of Besal’s corrupting nature. Essence-created appendages were one thing. They went away as soon as he willed it. An actual, physical new growth? Nope. He wanted none of that.

How many creatures did Ashera say the Beast killed? A dozen Shadow Crawlers? Where were the shadow-based spells? With the two points of Shadow Attunement, he would be over 300% affinity.

Shouldn’t that mean spells were relatively easy to come by?

He didn’t expect a spell every mob, but at least a rate of 10%. He didn’t even have a single shadow spell.

The only difference he could imagine was the Beast. He had been in control when all of those creatures were killed. That had to be it. While he clearly obtained the essence the Beast extracted from the creatures, it seemed gaining new spells was not possible with him in control.

Distantly, from the deepest reaches of his mind, he heard Besal chuckle.

Glancing around the small impromptu camp, Hal felt a level of camaraderie he never expected he would ever know. He let the warmth of those still with him wash over him and banish the thought of Besal.

Elora slept with her bandaged head on Ashera’s shoulder. Mira crossed her legs with her spear over her lap, eyes shut in meditation on Hal’s right. Ashera sat across the fire, her pale sea glass green eyes watching the dancing flames.

Hal draped an arm across Vorax. The mimic snuggled up against his side and for all the world looked like nothing more than a treasure chest. Noth sat in a pose similar to Mira directly above the fire, never feeling its warmth. She stood sentry for them all, stating she didn’t need rest.

“Would you like to feel the warmth of the fire?” Hal mentally asked Noth.

Noth, startled by his sudden question looked curiously at him. As if she had never considered it. She glanced at Hal’s party members in various states of relaxation. Seeing that nobody would likely see her aside from Ashera - who could already see her - she gave a coy nod.

Focusing on their renewed golden tether, and with a warning to Vorax about what he was doing, Hal pushed his corporeality to Noth as the Reaper alighted on Hal’s other side.

The Reaper shut her eyes, her pale blue-tinged skin seemed to warm ever so slightly. She sat beside Hal’s ethereal form, reaching her black-armored hands out feeling the warmth of the flames.

As she did, her gauntlets began to… drip like heated candle wax. They melted from her hands, as she practically had them shoved into the flames.

Her delicate pale hands rolled and flexed as they basked in the heat of the flames.

Now that he had time to focus on his own sensations, he found being ethereal… incredibly cold. He didn’t like it, but seeing the smile that spread unknowingly across Noth’s pretty face made Hal hold his tongue.

She deserved this. If he ever found a way to bring her that level of peace permanently, he would do it in a heartbeat.

New Quest: Dark Legacy.

Having a taste of Nothricient’s ethereal existence and seeing the exceedingly rare smile on her face at the simple pleasures of a warm campfire, you have taken it upon yourself to find a way to free her from this torment.

Without your tether binding her to the material plane, her existence would be short-lived and consist of untold agony. Discover a way to give her corporeality on Aldim.

Objectives

- Discover a method of making Nothricient permanently corporeal.

Rewards

- Variable.

That was a lot more open-ended than usual. He frowned and began to stroke his chin in thought, only realizing a moment later that he couldn’t. His fingers passed right through his face.

Reminded of his immaterial state, he couldn’t help but think of the shadowy creatures that offered him knowledge. Maybe he could find a way to make Noth whole.

Hal wanted to go back up to that room with the shadowy creatures in the man-sized emeralds.

They had answers for him, he was certain of it. Even if they twisted the truth, all it would take was time and a level head to unravel it.

Hal didn’t believe he would be an easy target for them. He wasn’t easily goaded into doing rash things – he did rash things fine enough on his own it seemed – and there was no great tragedy in his life that they could use to manipulate him.

He had no vendettas to settle, except maybe against the Founder. Even then, he was more than aware of how overmatched he was. Simply looking at this place they now rested in hammered that point home.

With the answers he could glean from those shadow creatures, he could find out what happened here and maybe undo the damage. What he needed was a way to complete the Coffin Contract.

Despite everything that he discovered, it still didn’t update any further. Which, he guessed, made sense since there were only two objectives remaining.

He needed to clear all the monsters from within the district, and as an additional objective, he had to discover the cause for the shadow creatures. While he could complete the former and finish the Contract, he personally wanted to know where those creatures came from.

And why they seemed to know him.

If he could at least find a way to destroy the monsters within the district, then the Contract would be fulfilled. The koblins would have a home, and they would have enough money to buy materials, tools, and equipment for a settlement.

If these people were anything like any other humans, they probably wouldn’t want the koblins in their city. The ruling nobility or merchant class would probably thank Hal and his group then do whatever they wanted with the district.

Even though Hal would own it, he didn’t underestimate the potential for the ruling class to try and undermine his good intentions. Especially if it got in the way of increasing their influence or wealth.

There were ways around that. A few hints at unknown dangers. The instability of the district, and a few rumors spread about it still being haunted would make it hard for them to find workers to rebuild. Much less to find tenants who would wish to live there after dark.

But the koblins, now they were a sturdy sort. Weird, no doubt, but sturdy. If Hal could plant the suggestion that the koblins would both keep the place safe and be model tenants, it might go a long way toward the koblins being left alone.

In the future, he wanted to take the koblins to his own settlement, when it wouldn’t be tantamount to leading them into a deathtrap. For the low-level koblins, the journey to the Shiverglades would be perilous. So would establishing a foothold as a settlement for that matter. Until then, they could establish a point of contact with Murkmire.

With any luck, the degree of separation between his settlement and the koblins would allow for backchannel trading between the two. Or at least provide Hal with some clout in Murkmire later on.

Owning an entire district had to have some benefit, right?

He planned to return one day. Not just to Murkmire but to the Founder’s secret complex below. There was much more he could learn.

Freeing Murkmire from the Founder’s control would be an added bonus.

Looking at the [Sending Stone] from the refugees in his inventory, Hal knew exactly how he could disseminate the rumors among the people of Murkmire. He wasn’t about to do all this work, lose a friend, die, and nearly be consumed by the Beast for simple human greed and xenophobia to defeat him.

All that was left was for him to do before going to bed was to assign his Beast Magic perks. The description of Azure Fate and Ruby Stars both seemed like they were mutually exclusive. And yet, he couldn’t find anything telling him that he could only choose one.

So far, nothing in this world was like that. A choice was a choice for that time only and it didn’t stop him from taking another path later on.

As much as he would appreciate the strength of Ruby Stars, he went with Azure Fate. Lack of control was the exact reason he nearly fell to Besal. He wanted to avoid that again at all costs.

A flash of sapphire-blue mana rippled across his translucent arms and brought Ashera and Noth’s focus to him. Hal grinned and shrugged as a new prompt rolled in.

Azure Fate Unlocked.

Spellshaping Unlocked.

Spellshaping

The chief trait of Azure Fate is empowerment by greater control and efficiency. With this trait, any spell from any discipline is capable of being controlled and shaped in a different manner than its original invocation describes.

A Firestorm spell that incinerates a 10ft radius is sloppy magic that can hurt friend and foe alike. Spellshaping allows that same spell to be molded, avoiding friends while annihilating foes.

You have 1 Beast Magic Perks awaiting assignment.

Azure Lore 0/1

Reach into the very depths of Beast Magic, forming a sympathetic bond with your adversary. By touching a monster, you are able to understand your quarry that much better. Its weaknesses and fears, its strengths, and most importantly what it’ll do before it does it. Defeating multiple enemies from the same Monster Family confers unique bonuses against that family.

Empty Vessel 0/1

Each Beastborne is unique. Those that follow the Azure path accept the risk of Strain but are not without the tools to handle the dangerous influx of corrupting magic. Once per day, you can focus on the way your body was before becoming a Beastborne. Holding that image, you purge all Strain from yourself, becoming an empty vessel once more.

Sheep’s Clothing 0/1

Utilizing the adaptive nature of Beast Magic, you are able to shroud yourself in the magical essence of a given monster. To most creatures, you appear as that type of monster and they will treat you as such.

Ruby Stars 0/1

Take your first step among the red-shifted stars of a dying universe, basking in the unfettered strength of the Elders.

The reappearance of Ruby Stars after selecting Azure Fate confirmed Hal’s suspicions. And he was glad that he didn’t lock himself out of an entire branch of benefits.

Each of the perks was beyond good. If this was any indication of the branching perks that he might see in other Classes and other skills, he was in for many long nights as he weighed his options.

He seemed to have a similar effect to Sheep’s Clothing applied whenever he channeled a specific essence through Splice. While the thought of walking amongst a bunch of monsters and being treated like one was interesting, he wasn’t alone.

And he sorely doubted that his friends would be given the same pass which took Sheep’s Clothing out from the running for now.

Ruby Stars was tempting but Empty Vessel and Azure Lore were too good to pass up. The former would be a single-use “get out of Beast-mode” free card. It would allow him to ramp up his Strain in a particularly difficult fight all while taking advantage of his new trait Edge of Disaster. And then just before losing control, he could dump all that Strain at once.

On the other hand, Azure Lore seemed to be similar to his Premonition trait. Wherein he could glean the next action that the monster would commit to before it moved.

Hal shook his head. Strain was too much of an issue to let Empty Vessel pass by. Even with its limited usage, it could save him from the colossal struggle he would undergo if he let his Strain build too fast.

He took Empty Vessel, expending the last of his Beast Magic Perks. When he was finished, he found his eyelids drooping. Feeling that a little rest couldn’t go awry, Hal closed his eyes. Hal was so tired that he barely realized he was ethereal anymore.

73

For the first time in what felt like years, Hal slept peacefully. Unbothered by strange dreams or nightmares.

When he awoke the next morning, Ashera was already in the middle of preparing their breakfast. She smiled at him, a look of immense relief on her fair features.

Only then did he realize he was corporeal once more. Noth had taken up her post, floating above the small campfire. She watched over the room impassively.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Hal wondered if he should spend more of his EXP or sparks. He had just enough EXP to hit the next Level of Beastborne, but aside from the 5 attribute points it would afford him, he likely wouldn’t get anything else.

And considering the potential gains of using Dominate on an approaching monster horde….

Hal shook his head. The scene of the Treant stomping out lesser predators was one bright spot of unrivaled joy and discovery. He managed to repay his EXP debt and it was great fun besides to ride on one of the higher branches and watch the behemoth wreak destruction.

All while Hal was able to reap the rewards.

He decided to keep a buffer of EXP. Not only because Oathforger was staggering close to full affinity, but because he thought he might need to use his Founder Sigils before long.

Before breakfast was ready, Hal looked over his skills to see which could benefit the most from an investment of sparks. Upon seeing his skills, he noticed how high his Leadership was.

And, since it increased damage for everybody in the party so long as he was the leader of the party, wouldn’t it make sense to check in and make sure the highest Leadership was still the party leader?

When he brought it up, he expected a series of shocked faces and surprised exclamations that he had managed to eclipse Elora’s Leadership skill. Instead, once they compared Levels, Hal was quickly handed the party leadership position.

Nobody seemed terribly surprised that his Leadership was higher. Perhaps it was a Founder thing. They were trying to groom him to be a leader after all.

With what Ashera had given him, plus his own large bounty from the Shoggoth not to mention the creatures the Treant killed, he had enough to make rapid improvements across the board.

Or he could dramatically improve a single skill.

The only question was, which route should he go?

As much as he was impressed with the Camping and Well Rested Buffs from Survival, he would soon have a glut of sparks to spend with the completion of the Coffin Contract.

For now, with Elora providing a stronger Camping Buff than he could ever attain with the sparks he had, it was better to focus on skills that would ensure the successful completion of the Contract.

To wit, combat skills.

The obvious choice was to increase Beast Magic further, but as he attempted to do so… it didn’t work.

Looking up from her cooking, Ashera noticed the look of consternation on his face. “Something troubling you?” she asked, pitching her voice low so as not to wake the others.

“I just tried using some of the sparks you gave me to increase my Beast Magic from ten to eleven but-”

“But it did not work,” Ashera guessed. “And your Beastborne is Level 10, is it not?”

Hal nodded.

“That would be it then,” she explained, stirring the creamy-looking morning meal. “You cannot increase your skills - through sparks at least - beyond your highest Leveled Class.”

“So if I have three Classes, and all of them are Level ten….”

“Then Level ten is the highest you can get by investing sparks,” Ashera finished for him. “Otherwise people would have Level fifty skills at Level one, provided they were wealthy enough.”

“What about naturally?” he asked.

“Beg pardon?”

“Am I able to gain a skill beyond the highest Leveled Class?”

“Of course,” Ashera said with a soft smile. “The limitation is only on sparks. For whatever reason, I am glad it works that way. Hard work should be rewarded, but being able to help friends - by giving them sparks to catch up - is equally important.”

Hal nodded, looking back over his skills and deciding what to do with this new information.

Armed with a better understanding, Hal decided to shore up his defenses. Considering his latest shadow essence attunement, he went with Evasion over Parry.

He had just enough sparks to cover raising Improvised Weaponry from Level 4 to 10 as well. And then he was almost completely out of sparks. He would have liked to get Enfeebling Magic or his Sword Skill up. Unfortunately, he already refused the extra bounty of sparks Ashera offered from the Shoggoth. But everything from the Treant’s rampage and the smaller sum gained since the Shoggoth, he accepted.

Even with the large sum awarded from the Contract, Hal still worried they might need more. Buying supplies for an entire settlement couldn’t be cheap. And when Ashera didn’t argue the point, he felt he had come quite close to the mark. He felt guilty enough spending over 20,000 sparks just to increase Evasion and Improvised Weaponry.

But, he reminded himself that getting 2 skills up to Level 10 was a massive improvement. And that if he died there would be no settlement, he had to be strong enough to survive to be able to spend those sparks, after all.

A shimmering feeling of euphoria filled him, washing away his doubts as the sparks evaporated and his skills climbed.

Your Evasion Skill has risen to Level 5.

…

Your Evasion Skill has risen to Level 10.

+1% Evasion speed (+10%).

-1% Stamina cost (-10%).

+2% Time decay (+4%).

You have 1 Evasion Skill Perk point awaiting assignment.

Patient Offense 0/1

Each successive evasion of an enemy’s attack increases the damage of your next attack by 10%. Resets if hit.

Leaf on the Wind 0/1

While wearing Light Armor, +10% Evasion chance. While Unarmored, +20% Evasion chance.

Light as a Feather 0/1

Reduce falling damage by half.

Your Improvised Weaponry Skill has risen to Level 5.

…

Your Improvised Weaponry Skill has risen to Level 10.

+2% Improvised Weapon damage (+20%).

+2% Improvised Weapon attack speed (+20%).

-5% Stamina cost (-10%).

You have 1 Improvised Weaponry Skill Perk point awaiting assignment.

Savagery 0/1

Attacks with Improvised Weapons deal 5% more damage with each successive hit up to 5 hits in a row. Attacking with a different weapon resets the enhancement.

Denting Blows 0/1

Attacks with blunt-based damage reduce the DEF of the target by 10% for 10 seconds.

Overrun 0/1

Increase attack speed by 15% when utilizing an Improvised Weapon and a One-Handed Weapon together.

Time decay? Hal furrowed his brow at that one. Most of the bonuses were pretty straightforward but that one had him scratching his head a little. With a shrug, he pressed on to the perks.

He stared at Leaf on the Wind. Too soon. Before he knew it, he was humming the Firefly theme song.

Leaf on the Wind was undoubtedly good, a straight 10% improvement worked well with Shadowy Presence. Though the wording was different, now that he thought about it.

Light as a Feather was something he would love to have, if only because he still hated heights. Even if he wasn’t as terrified of them as he was before. Strangely, falling off that rooftop in Fallwreath had helped him to overcome his fear.

There wasn’t much worse than getting an arrow in the thigh and falling off a multi-story building. When he had lived from that - and with such pitiful VIT at that - without any long-lasting injuries, it showed him that falling wasn’t quite so bad.

He wasn’t about to go leaping out of any windows but it did help to temper that spike of paralyzing dread he used to get.

That left Patient Offense as the last, and coincidentally, the likeliest candidate. Increasing damage with every evasion? What wasn’t to like about that?

He would make sure to get Leaf on the Wind at Level 20, the two would pair together nicely.

Turning his attention to his Improvised Weaponry perks, he saw two that stood out immediately. Savagery and Overrun. Denting Blows was nice and all, but he already had a much better - although significantly costlier - way of reducing enemy DEF.

Savagery would increase his damage with a chain. As soon as I find another one, he thought sourly. I seem to go through so many chains. I might as well get one made for me, specifically for fighting.

And while he liked the potential of having a 25% boost to his damage, Overrun boosted both weapons he favored. With the attack speed bonuses from Improvised Weaponry, he would be hitting almost a third faster with a chain. At the same time, increasing the speed he could wield his sword.

Selecting Overrun, Hal looked up to see his other two party members awakening. They ate breakfast together, but the mood was understandably somber. With most of their injuries healed, they were ready for the day.

Though none of them had absolutely wrecked and tattered armor like Hal. His [Traveler’s Aketon] was shot. [His Duelist’s Bracers] hung by a fraying thread. There are definite drawbacks to buying used armor, he thought.

Not that most people went through the sort of trials Hal did.

Judging from the whopping 21/200 durability of his [Leg Guards +1], the only piece of armor he would have by the end of the day would be his [Leaping Boots].

When he said as much, Elora perked up. “I nearly forgot, I have a Repair Kit if you want.” She fished out a palm-sized onyx hexagon and handed it over. “Here, just put this on your armor and it’ll do the rest.”

Hal did as she instructed. The hexagon shimmered and he had a prompt flash by, asking if he would like to repair his gear. He confirmed and the [Repair Kit] went to work.

It was slow at first. The hexagon opened and spawned a second black hexagon. Then, from each of the six sides, another hexagon spawned. They folded continually outward until each of the palm-sized things coated every inch of Hal’s clothing.

They were surprisingly pliable, a bit like plastic. The whole process took less time than it took to eat breakfast. And when it was done, all of his equipment was at 50% durability.

“It’s a one-time-use, and only restores equipment to half durability, I meant to give it to you sooner,” Elora said, now in the process of doing a series of stretches for the day.

“But we got split up and….” She shrugged. “Oh, that reminds me, I also got this. I tried to use it like you did but it didn’t work for me.” She wrapped the [Length of Void Chain] in a cloth and tossed it to him.

Hal grinned and set to wrapping it around his left wrist. “Thanks. I go through chains so fast. Treant ate my last one.” The cold was familiar, almost comforting.

“Excuse me?”

“A Treant ate my last chain.”

Elora looked to Ashera who nodded. “Of course, that was before he took control of the behemoth and caused it to savage its fellows. It was good fun. If ever you get the chance to ride upon a Treant’s shoulders, I would highly recommend it.”

The Ranger’s mouth hung open at the simple, understated way Ashera said such a ridiculous sentence.

“All right,” Ashera said, getting her things in order again. “Ready when you are, Hal.”

It took him by surprise when each of them, except for Mira, looked to Hal for guidance. “Let’s go back up to the room with the shadow creatures bound in emeralds,” he said. “I need some answers.”

Mira looked at everybody else, then Hal. Her eyes were wide and bright. “Are we just not going to talk about him turning into a monster and nearly killing everybody?”

Hal forced himself to look her in the eye and square his shoulders. “It’s related to my Class, Beastborne.”

“Never heard of it,” Mira said, folding her arms across her chest. “Sounds fake.”

A quirk of Hal’s brow reigned in the Dragoon’s protest and she unfolded her arms, patting the air between them. “I’m just kidding! No reason to whip out your fleshy bone blades again. That hurt.”

“Sorry, I….” Hal shook his head. He really meant it. He turned to look at each of them in turn. “For all of it. The long and short of it is that Beastborne has a rather deceptive downside to using Beast Magic.

“Every time I enact a spell, it places a certain amount of Strain on my body. If that Strain gets too high, I lose control. The magic, or a manifestation of myself that the magic brings to life, takes over.

“When I used Drill Branch to break through to the tunnel where you two were, I pushed myself too far and hit a level of Strain my body couldn’t cope with. The Beast took over then. I could see everything that was going on but was powerless to do anything.

“I thought I could wrestle control back but it was much harder than I initially thought. I nearly failed completely and from the prompts I was getting, I would have turned into something horrific.”

“I knew it wasn’t you,” Elora said. All eyes turned to her. She hunched her shoulders and glared back like a cat backed into a corner. “You wouldn’t try to hurt us.”

“Elora is right,” Ashera chimed in, putting an arm over the Ranger’s slender shoulders and making her blush. “I could tell you were still in there but no longer in control.”

Noth had clearly told Ashera what was going on. Had she kept the source of the knowledge to herself? Hal guessed in the heat of the moment explaining that she could see a Reaper that none of the others could see would lead to more questions than answers.

Mira threw her arms up into the air. “Well, I sure couldn’t! How do we know this won’t happen again?” She was about to poke Hal in the chest but thought better of it and instead merely pointed. That slight hesitation hurt more than her words. She was afraid of him.

At the very least she was wary of provoking him. Neither of which sat well with Hal.

“How many more times are you going to hulk out like that, huh?” she continued.

Hal was about to answer but her use of the phrase “hulk out” brought him up short. That wasn’t a common phrase. Not here. It was back on Earth, however. And judging by the curious glances Ashera and Elora shot the Dragoon, they didn’t get the reference.

Only further confusing the Beastborne.

He shook his head and answered, “I didn’t know at what level of Strain I would lose control. Now I do. While it doesn’t stop me from pushing past that point, I’m not going to willingly do it unless there’s a good reason.”

“And I would say rescuing the pair of you was a good reason,” Ashera added. “Without such… unconventional means, the both of you would have been beset upon by many monsters. And while the method was perhaps unorthodox, nobody is permanently harmed. And nobody died. I would call that a win.”

The Dragoon laced her fingers behind her head. She rolled her shoulders in a shrug. “I guess you’ve got a point.” Mira looked over Hal closer, dropping her arms and leaning into his personal space. “Beastborne, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Still sounds fake.”

“It’s still not.”

“You sure?”

Hal rolled his eyes. “Positive.”

After a long moment of her violet eyes boring into Hal’s, she nodded to herself. “Okay.”

That was it. The matter was settled for the Dragoon.

The rest of the party eyed each other and looked to Mira’s back as she peered out into the hallway. None of them fully understood her motivations. And after her little outburst, Hal wondered if there was more to her than met the eye.

Could there be more people like him on Aldim? People who were pulled from a life on Earth? Now wasn’t the time to probe the woman’s past but it definitely painted her in a different light.

She was very clearly an elf, there was no doubting that. Which seemed impossible if she came from Earth. Why wouldn’t she be a human still? It wasn’t like there were elves back home. And he didn’t get any choice as to what race he was. He was brought over as himself.

So many questions.

Together again, they struck out toward the elevators.

The worrying cracks widened into foot-wide segments as they walked, revealing the black stone behind the silver-carved walls. It seemed the structural damage Hal caused by drilling into the wall was more extensive than he thought.

The damage only became more apparent as they neared the metallic doors outside the elevator rooms. The doors hung askew within the broken stone framing. No longer functioning, the doors wouldn’t budge an inch no matter how hard they tried.

All but one set of doors were completely caved in.

Each of them had to squeeze through the gap to enter. Vorax barely fit, he was a decent-sized treasure chest by that point and didn’t seem capable of sucking in his boxy frame.

With Hal pushing from behind, and both Elora and Mira pulling from the other side, they managed to get the mimic through. Vorax, to his credit, didn’t complain. Though he clearly didn’t like anybody but Hal touching him.

The damage looked much worse from the outside. Looking around the room, there were only a few hairline fractures in the carved murals on the stone walls. The doors had taken the brunt of the damage.

Hal was met with a choice. Press on deeper into the bowels of this place, or ascend and return to the room of shadows and emeralds. The answers he so deeply needed.

A smile on his face, Hal stepped into the magical drifting light and tilted his head back, lifting his gaze. He ascended through the hole in the ceiling and continued to rise, counting the floors as he went. With a brief explanation from Ashera, Mira and Elora followed suit.

They were finally going to get some answers.

74

“We knew you would return,” croaked the familiar shadowy voice.

“Answers you once sought, you seek again,” whispered another shadow. Their voices were barely distinguishable but he felt a connection to them now. A thin thread that told him which speaker this was.

It must be my increased affinity to shadow, he thought to himself. Using the extra-sensory input channeling the essence gave him, he could tell what his ears struggled to differentiate on his first visit.

“Pray, forgive us our earlier indiscretions,” said a softer shadow-voice. “We thought you were another. Our children trapped in this plane of torturous existence know not the difference and we were… similarly fooled. We see your heart now. See the stain on it that speaks to a difference we had not noticed before.”

Their voices hit him as soon as he stepped back into that low-ceilinged room. Nothing had changed since he came through here last.

The eight-foot-tall emeralds, each filled with a shadowy creature, were still wedged into the corners. As were the dark wooden bookshelves that filled the spaces between the emeralds on the left and right-hand walls.

“We should not be here,” Noth warned as she came in, gliding unseen ahead of the others. “It is-”

“I know, Noth. I feel it too, but they have answers but we need some answers. You have seen how massive this place is. How many floors did we pass coming back up to this room? How many more are there still?

“We are blind. If their answers can stop one more person getting hurt, it will be worth it,” Hal said, he didn’t want to be there any more than she did. The place felt wrong. The air tingled.

The Reaper shot Hal a worried look but said no more.

“What’d we miss?” asked Mira, stepping into the room and looking at Hal. Her wide violet eyes found the emeralds and whistled appreciatively.

Elora followed behind, her eyes scanned the room. If she thought the emeralds were remarkable in any way, she didn’t show it.

Motioning to the emeralds, Hal said, “These creatures are imprisoned here, by the Founder most likely, and they claim to have answers.”

Mira raised a brow. “Ask them what the winning lottery numbers are.”

Hal ignored that.

“We seek the same ends, Usurper,” said one shadow.

“Our goals align,” said another.

“You wish to know what this place is? We shall tell you. You wish to break Rinbast’s hold on this place? This too, we shall tell you how to do. All threads converge on but a single point,” said another.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Hal replied.

“It’s really weird that you’re talking to yourself,” Mira pointed out. When a few pairs of eyes turned her way she mimed zipping her mouth shut.

“As we said, our goals align. You wish to reclaim this lost place? To revitalize the Manatree’s withered roots? Doing so will free us. Send us back to the plane we belong. This place… it is a prison. We wish to be here no more than you.”

“Who trapped you here?” Hal asked, though it was obvious enough.

“This, you already know. Rinbast trapped us here long ago, then used our power to pull more of our children from the Shadesholm to quell an uprising of his own making. Our children you have already met, they confuse you for another.”

Hal looked to Noth. The Reaper’s earlier wariness was gone, replaced by a look of concern and confusion. Hal wasn’t sure whether or not he believed them but if their aims were one and the same, he should at least hear them out.

If Rinbast was using these shadows to increase his own power, then that meant the shadows - who clearly did not want to be here - were prisoners. And that meant they had a common enemy in Rinbast.

He could work with that.

Freeing the shadows back to their home realm would rob Rinbast of another weapon. That was all the motivation he needed.

A shadow pressed two six-fingered hands against the inside of the emerald it was trapped within like it was no more than a thin pane of glass. “We speak the truth only,” it insisted, taking Hal’s thoughtfulness for doubt.

Hal relayed what the shadows told him to the group.

“Then they know how we can complete the Contract,” Mira said. “If it means we can get out of here sooner instead of wandering this murder complex, I say we take them up on the offer. I mean, how often are we going to get this chance?”

“She’s right,” Elora said with a frown. “Our list of allies is short, but not if we need to free them first.”

“We do not ask to be freed outright,” a shadow spoke, pressing its twisting form of shifting smoke to the emerald’s interior. “Your act of restoring the Manatree will destroy us and all of our children, sending us back whence we came. You need only weaken the wards of this room.”

“And how do I do that?” Hal asked.

“Damage them, how you do this matters not. Our prisons are impervious to anything you have access to. We cannot break free without the Manatree’s power to cleanse extraplanar entities such as ourselves,” said one shadow.

Another, this one on Hal’s left, took up the explanation, “And this room is shielded to the Manatree’s effects unless you weaken the wards.”

“How can we be sure they speak the truth?” Ashera asked, tapping a finger to her bottom lip. “None of us can hear them save yourself, so ask them a question only you would know the answer to. Something that would be difficult to know.”

Elora stepped forward. “Where is Hal from?” asked the Ranger, addressing the shadowy creature. She looked to the rest. “Hal has not spoken much about his home, even to us. I only heard its name once but I recall it keenly for it is a strange name. Let us see if these shadows truly know anything.”

“An interesting question, do you approve?”

Hal nodded. “Answer it.”

“Your name is Hal Williams, and you are from Seattle in a region known as Washington set within the country called America.”

Their words unsettled him a little but he kept the emotion from his face, forced his voice to be level and cool. “Anybody could know tha-“

“We are not finished,” said one of the shadows.

“You were summoned by a god,” answered yet another.

“But the summoning failed. His death was the result of a man whose name you do not know, but we do. The man with the glowing eyes and a red hood stricken with stardust. Ask any being old enough if they know who Midarian is and watch as they pale in fear. This gift of future amusement, we give to you. Not so much a parlor trick now, is it?”

Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t keep the look of shock from his face. His friends saw it and every gaze turned his way. Vorax shuffled up to his ankle and hopped about defensively, keeping Hal at its back as it circled him with tiny hops.

Soothing images and sensations were sent back to the mimic. “I’m okay, Vorax.” To the others, he said, “They’re telling the truth. At least, they know who I am and how I came here.”

“And, what did they say?” Mira asked, shifting her weight to her left leg.

“The truth,” Hal said. He had no reason to hide it, and so he told them what the shadows had said.

Hal didn’t miss the way Mira’s eyes lit up. She was quick to recover and from then on made sure to look anywhere but at Hal.

“You still have not asked us the question we originally offered,” added the shadow with its six-fingered hands pressed to the inside of the emerald. “Ask us what this place is.”

“Why do I need to ask you?” Hal voiced aloud.

“We are bound by magic most powerful, its wording is… very specific. We may provide answers only when questioned, nothing more. An insurance policy, by a man that had seen too much horror to leave a loophole for the likes of us.”

They were disturbingly forthcoming. It didn’t sit well with Hal. It was too easy. Mira wandered over to one of the bookshelves and took one of the tomes into her hand while Hal relayed the shadow’s words.

Lightning danced along the Dragoon’s body as soon as she opened the book, driving her across the room in a flash of light and a thunderous clap. She slammed against the opposite wall, also filled with tomes, causing the protective magic to fire again.

Mira let out a scream as she arced over their heads, grazing the ceiling. Disoriented with the sudden danger of his new friend and the rush of adrenaline in his veins, Hal propelled himself off the floor with shadow-treant-limbs black as night.

The force of the Dragoon colliding with Hal’s open arms toppled him to the ground. They skidded across the polished floor until Hal fetched up against the bookshelf. Fearing that he only made matters worse, Hal pushed Mira forward hoping to separate her from the protective magic and scrambled after her.

Seconds later he realized, as did everybody else, that no defensive magic assaulted him like it had Mira.

Hal looked to the shining mark floating off his arm.

“Thanks,” Mira said through chattering teeth. Her fauxhawk now vaguely resembled a copper-colored dandelion, every hair standing on end. Subtle currents of electricity arced across her body as she struggled to her feet.

A thump echoed in the stillness of the room following the excitement. Hal looked over his shoulder at the book that fell free from the shelf he crashed into. It was opened. Hal crawled over to it, recognizing the rolling letters of a language he knew well, and some of the strange words he knew even better.

The words were not typical English. They were a cipher. Something he cooked up as a lonely kid trying to distract himself from the fact that he was too shy to socialize with other kids his age.

He never showed anybody the key. And as the years progressed he would occasionally touch it up, improve it in ways. While he recognized the patterns, showing him that the basis of this cipher was indeed his own, it had at some point diverged from the tweaks he was familiar with.

Only one in every three words – at best – could be understood. But the significance of it stole the warmth from his blood.

Without thinking he reached out and took down another book. Then another. A dozen books, all taken at random, and each of them contained the same cipher.

Hal fell back onto the seat of his pants and let the latest book fall from his numb fingertips. There was no mistaking it. This was his cipher but grown from what he remembered. Advanced in ways he could only begin to discern.

That alone disturbed him. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if he had time he could decipher the words written within. Some of the alterations he even recognized as half-baked ideas he once toyed with but were now brought to their full conclusion.

“What is this place?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“The Great Shelter. One of many scattered across Aldim in preparation for a calamity that even Rinbast could not hope to combat. The last hope for a broken and battered world,” a soft, almost kind shadow voice told him.

75

“Is that why you want to leave?” Hal asked. “Because of this calamity?”

“No, we seek to return to Shadesholm. This realm is not ours. We care not for its troubles. We see into your heart, Hal. Though you share much with Rinbast, you are different. We beseech you to free us. It will cost you nothing you were not already willing to spend.”

“But first I must deface the wardings,” Hal said.

“Correct. With their protections weakened, once you restore the Manatree’s strength, its influence will seep into this room and return us to our home.”

“What’s all this about wardings now?” Mira asked, trying in vain to smooth her hair. A few arcs of electricity zapped from strand to strand.

“They need me to damage the glyphs in this room or else the Manatree won’t be able to reach in here and send them back,” Hal explained, motioning to the silver-etched lines all around the room.

“How do we know that wouldn’t set them free?” Elora asked. “This could all be a trick.”

Hal didn’t think so. The shadows were correct about one thing, their goals were aligned. Hal wanted to get the Manatree covering this area again and complete the Coffin Contract. The shadows wanted the Manatree up and running again in order to be sent home.

They would gain nothing if Hal failed and so they had every reason to be as honest and helpful as possible. But he couldn’t help agreeing with Elora. All of this could be a con to get him to destroy the wardings. If their prison was destroyed and they were able to get out, it wouldn’t matter what they told him.

He wouldn’t live long enough to find out whether they were telling the truth or not.

“You seem to know a great deal about Rinbast,” Hal said.

“Regrettably, one comes to know their captor quite well over many decades.”

“I will do as you ask, but I need you to answer a question first.”

“Then ask,” said one shadow.

“What is another minute more when already we have been away from our beloved home for what feels like eons?” asked another.

Hal licked his lips nervously and looked back at Elora and Ashera. They had lost a Manaseed to save his life. If these things knew enough about Rinbast, and the man was arrogant enough to believe they would never divulge his secrets… maybe there was another Manaseed somewhere.

One that he could acquire.

“Before I help free you, if you would like to see Rinbast truly hurt, I need to know where I can find another Manaseed. One out of Rinbast’s control,” Hal said.

Your Persuasion has risen to Level 6.

+1% Persuasion success (+6%).

+0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (+3.0%).

The shadows were silent for a long time. When they spoke, their voices were as one. “Know you who we are?”

Hal shook his head.

“We are Shadow Sages. Our knowledge is not of this realm, and Rinbast was always too canny to let much slip. But we know of which you seek. That of which even Rinbast could not prise from our minds.

“An ancient city, Mornheim is its name. Long lost and thought destroyed, it exists still as a memory of itself. Touch your hand to our prison and we will give you the knowledge of its location and how to gain entry.”

“What’d they say?” Elora asked, her eyes wide with hope at seeing Hal’s expression.

“They say there’s a Manaseed we could get,” Hal answered as he walked over to a shadow-filled emerald. “We might actually be able to make a Sanctum.”

Just as Ashera was about to ask what Hal was doing, he pressed his palm to the cold emerald. A shadowy hand pressed against the other side.

It was over in an instant. Hal’s body went rigid and then sagged. He nearly stumbled but his DEX, at over twice that of a normal human’s, compensated and he managed to keep his feet under him.

He knew where to go. It was a bit hazy and indistinct but it was to the west far into strange purple and blue crystalline lands. He saw the cliff he would need to reach and he knew too how to pass beyond its protections.

“Hal…?” Ashera asked, her mace in one hand. “Are you well?”

Straightening, he turned to her and smiled. “Better than ever. I know where we can find a Manaseed.”

“We did as you asked,” they prompted.

Hal nodded. “Tell me where I can find the Manatree and fix Rinbast’s mess and I will see you and your children are returned to your home.”

Shadow Sage Reputation: +2,000 (Enemy of my Enemy).

While the Shadow Sages do not fully trust you, they recognize the value in what you seek to do. That you are the enemy of Rinbast, their captor, they are all the more willing to aid you as much as they can.

“Wait,” Noth said. Hal was surprised when Ashera didn’t react to Noth’s voice. She could always hear her before. “I would ask you a question.”

“So the Dark Sister finally sees the truth. Very well, ask the question that burns your tongue,” said one of the Shadow Sages.

“Ever since I came to this plane, I… noticed something was off. With Hal. I feel a similar echo in the air distant and yet familiar. Your own words echo my concerns. You said you mistook him for another. Why?”

Noth gave Hal a curious look, as if he was a puzzle she was hoping to figure out.

“You speak of the Founder’s Grand Plan. An army of selves, failures one and all. This one, we thought, was just another of his minions,” a Shadow Sage explained.

“How is that possible?” Noth asked before Hal could. His mouth still hung open, agape at the implications.

“Many worlds exist, as you well know, Dark Sister. With deific aid, Rinbast sought to pervert the natural order. He stole versions of himself from different realms. To the common observer, they would appear as an army of selves.

“A hope that was summarily dashed when Rinbast overextended himself. And ultimately put an end to by this one’s benefactor murdering the god Rinbast had been using. Our children lack the higher functions we possess and could not tell the difference between Hal and another of Rinbast’s ‘brothers’,” explained another Shadow Sage.

Noth turned to Hal with an uncharacteristic look of sympathy stamped on her features. “Hal… I’m sorry.”

The blood drained from his face as he stared at one of the Shadow Sages.

“Perhaps the timeline you and Rinbast share is more alike than others, perhaps it is not. It matters little,” said one Shadow Sage. “That which we have seen shows us a man apart. You and Rinbast may share an origin but it is clear you possess a nobler heart. Your origins do not define you. Only your actions.”

With those words of wisdom, the Shadow Sages fell quiet again to let Hal process what he just heard.

“Hal?” Mira asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He jumped at the touch, so deep in thought already and Mira started. “You look pale as a ghost, is the location of the Manaseed that bad?”

Right, they didn’t hear Noth. Hal glanced at Ashera, who looked concerned but no more aware of what was just said than any of the others. He breathed a sigh of relief. He looked to Noth, and the Reaper gave a subtle shake of her head to the silent question. She would not expose him.

He explained where the Manaseed was but left out the rest. He wasn’t sure they could handle it. The truth of Rinbast somehow made sense to Hal. Looking back he saw the various hints, the doors that only opened because of him.

When somebody tells you that you’re an alternate timeline of a tyrannical ruler, you would expect to feel pretty lost. But Hal didn’t. He knew who he was. And even if Rinbast and he shared a past and DNA, he was no more Rinbast than Hal was his twelve-year-old self.

Decades of experiences differentiated them, most of which Rinbast had upon Aldim, stacking the deck in his favor. Which seemed ridiculous at first, but if he could pull versions of himself from different timelines, then would it be that odd that Rinbast took Hal from a different point in time?

His head hurt as he tried to keep it all straight.

It wasn’t that he doubted his friends cared for him but some truths were too big. No matter how dedicated or altruistic they were, this was a truth he painfully realized he could never reveal. How could they ever look at him the same again if he revealed to them that he was the very agent of their oppression and misery?

They hated Rinbast with every fiber of their being. How could they not hate him as well?

Each of them – himself included – would find it hard not to wonder what path took Rinbast from Hal’s current one to that of a tyrannical killer. Was Hal walking that same path? There was no way to know without asking the man himself and Hal, more than ever before, wanted to be as far away as he could from him.

His soul felt weighted and dark. Noth’s golden eyes watched him but she said nothing. But then he remembered something. And he couldn’t help himself. If Rinbast brought Hal over, why did he want to kill him?

“Is Rinbast just killing every potential Founder?” Hal asked. There was something seriously wrong with Rinbast if he kept killing versions of himself.

But he kept that to himself.

“No, that’s ridiculous. Killing every potential Founder would be outside any single Founder’s reach,” Elora said. “Rinbast rules Fallmark, the region we’re in now. The world is a big place and many other Founders exist outside of Fallmark. The Broken Lands, where I found you? That borders between the Fallmark and the Direlands, ruled by Founder Tristal. And there are many more beside her.”

“But everybody uses ‘Founder’ as if he’s the only one,” Hal pointed out.

Mira chuckled. “It’s just a title, dude. Like King or Queen. People often just use the title because there’s only one in their area. It’s… what’s the word...”

Her eyes went dull and listless for a second before they sparked back to life. She snapped her fingers sharply and pointed at Hal. “Ubiquitous! Anyway, everybody knows who the King is so you don’t need to keep saying King John, you just say ‘the King’ and everybody groks you.”

The more Mira talked, the more Hal had trouble seeing her as a native of this realm. He highly doubted the words “dude” and “grok” were common vernacular in Aldim. Then again, there were orcs here, and “grok” was definitely an orc-sounding word. But he doubted it had the same meaning.

Was she letting her guard down, or was he reading too much into things?

“If I were a Founder,” Mira continued, “I’d have a special group of warriors tasked with finding and bringing such a person to me. That way I could meet them and help them out. Get them set up somewhere else instead of all this killing and fighting business. The world is so much nicer with friends,” Mira said with a shrug of her narrow shoulders. Her hair still stood ridiculously on end and as Hal’s eyes crept up to it, she scowled and frantically tried to smooth the hair back down.

76

“Rinbast is methodical,” Ashera said, “I would not be surprised to learn that he had a system in place specifically to deal with appearances of….” She motioned to Hal.

Hal shook his head and turned to the nearest emerald. “Where is the Manatree and how can I get to it?”

“Just because you possess the answer does not mean you have the means to act upon it,” warned the gentler sage. “Walk this path carefully, for it is narrow and there is no room upon it for your companions.”

“Seek out the lowest levels of this place. Where even the Founder feared to tread. Therein you will find a Vault, that which houses the most valuable and dangerous of all things the Founder discovered here. The reason he first erected this place, though its purpose was soon replaced with dreams of conquest.

“Dreams which were not his own,” snickered another. “Powerful are the suggestions of the Elders.”

“Your answer lies behind the Vault. Within you will find the same answers your predecessor did. We hope you will fare better than he.”

Guild Contract Updated: The Coffin Contract.

You have discovered more than enough to cause riots in the streets. If the Shadow Sages are to be trusted, all the answers will be found within the Vault. Proceed to the Vault with all haste.

Objectives

- Gain entry to the Coffin District (Complete).

- Clear all monsters from within the district itself.

- Additional objectives available.

- Discover the cause for the shadow creatures.

- Gain entry into the Vault.

Rewards

- Guild Rank Increase (Variable).

- District Ownership Rights.

- 20,000 Sparks (Per party member).

- Additional rewards available.

- Experience Points (Variable).

- Murkmire Reputation (Variable).

- +1 Guild Rank.

For a brief moment, Hal looked around the room and was shocked at what he saw. The shadows within the emeralds shifted about, six-fingered hands pressed against the faceted towering gems. But it wasn’t the shadows that drew his attention.

It was his friends.

Mira was still trying to coax her hair down. Ashera watched Hal with the same level of concern that Noth did, and Elora was giving Vorax a curious look-over.

Hal smiled at Elora and Vorax.

There hadn’t been much time to explain Vorax, and he had been glad beyond belief that nobody was hurt by a misunderstanding upon their first meeting. He could only imagine that Ashera did the explaining for him while he was under the thrall of Besal.

After they camped for that night, Hal fielded more than a few questions about the curious monster. Thankfully, none of them seemed overly bothered by his inclusion. In a short time, the adorable little mimic endeared himself to the entire group.

“I know where to go,” Hal said.

As he explained where they had to go, Elora’s face predictably darkened when he reached the warning that only he would be able to walk that path.

She turned around to the nearest emerald. “That’s unacceptable. I’m not splitting up again. Tell him another way.” Elora turned back to Hal, her blue-gray eyes bright and angry. “Are they telling you?”

Hal shook his head.

The Ranger turned to each of the emeralds, a pleading look in her eyes. “We stand stronger as one,” she explained. “There has to be another way.”

“Her heart is good but our answer remains,” came the unexpected rasping voice.

“There is no other way,” answered another.

“I’m sorry, Elora,” Hal said. “There is no other way.”

“You will uphold your end of the bargain?” one of the Shadow Sages reminded him. Its voice was almost pleading.

After everything they gave him, Hal wasn’t about to double-cross them. But he was still wary. Everything they said would be hard - almost impossible, really - to confirm without leaving this place.

“We have everything we need though, yes?” Ashera asked.

“We do,” Hal confirmed.

She looked at the rest of them and nodded. “Then leave the room, please.”

“What, why?”

“I will destroy the warding,” Ashera said, lifting up her mace. “It should be more than up for the task. I do not need to break through the stones, only deface the glyphs, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“Then leave and I will see it done,” she said. “If these creatures suddenly come out, I would not see you risking yourself unduly. If, as I hope, they are telling the truth… then we waste only a few minutes.”

Hal looked around and found the rest of his friends nodding along in agreement.

“She is a canny one,” one of the Shadow Sages said with a hint of laughter.

“Trust, but verify,” snickered another.

“You will see the veracity of our words. We thank you for setting our children free.”

Everybody left the room, piling back into the “elevator” room to wait for Ashera. It was a tense few minutes as everybody held their breath, waiting for something to go wrong.

Hal had Dominate at the ready. If anything other than Ashera came out of there, he was going to be ready.

There were quiet rumbling noises that made it through the doors to the room but for the most part, it was eerily silent.

As the notification rolled across Hal’s view, he knew Ashera had done it and that the Shadow Sages had been true to their word.

Shadow Sage Reputation: +3,000 (Shadow-Friend).

You have honored your word. With Ashera’s help, you have utterly destroyed the warding that would have prevented the Manatree from destroying the Shadow Sages, preventing them from returning to their realm of Shadesholm.

Few creatures interact with the shadowy beings, fewer still manage to aid them in a way that places them in debt. While you may think that the exchange was even, the Shadow Sages view things differently. Your actions have indebted the Shadow Sages to you and your lack of desire to take advantage of this has altered their view of you for the better.

As a Shadow-Friend, the Shadow Sages will do what they can to aid and assist you as they would one of their own. The creatures from Shadesholm have long memories. Your acts have earned you allies beyond your comprehension.

Ashera walked through the door, clearly drained from the efforts. Behind her, Hal could make out the marred and heavily damaged stone. The sensation of mana-rich air was so strong it was almost suffocating.

Whatever magic had been kept in those glyphs was flooding out of them at an alarming rate. Before Hal could suggest they get going, Elora stepped up and with one smooth motion took out her bow and nocked it.

With an arrow pointing right at Ashera’s heart, she said something in a lilting tongue that Hal didn’t know. Tired and sweaty, Ashera hardly seemed surprised by the turn.

In fact, she sported a small smirk and calmly replied in turn. Elora relaxed the draw on her bow and in an instant had it put back over her shoulder. She charged at the larger lamora and wrapped her arms tightly around the woman.

Ashera smiled wearily and returned Elora’s tight embrace. Even going so far as to lift the smaller woman off the ground slightly.

“Everything okay?” Hal asked.

Ashera nodded. “We have a code phrase, to make sure in situations such as these that we are who we say we are. In fact, it would be a good idea for each of us to have one.”

“Mine is Apple Butts,” Mira said. “I’m calling dibs right now.”

“You act as if anybody else would want ‘Apple Butts,’” Hal said.

“You’re just mad you didn’t come up with it first,” Mira said, sticking out her chin.

“How about we go and discuss our code words on the way down,” Hal offered. “We’re going all the way to the bottom.”

77

“This seems like a trap,” Mira said halfway down the worked tunnel, its many glyphs glittered maliciously in the light of their Guild badges. The very air felt hostile, hot and humid instead of cool and dry. Hal looked over his shoulder at her. She put up her hands in surrender. “I’m not saying we turn back. Just felt like somebody should say it.”

Hal couldn’t help but chuckle. The mounting tension they all felt eased at the Dragoon’s easygoing attitude.

They came to a blind turn in the hall and stopped. None of them knew what to make of the new development that lay ahead. Gone was the vaguely ominous air.

In its place was an oppressive sense of dread.

Like a cancerous tumor, the stone bulged and rolled over the worked segments in a way that should have been impossible. Even without Shadesight, without their Guild badges, or Darkvision, the crystals that erupted from the bulbous stone would have provided a steady – if unnerving – blood-red light down the long winding tunnel.

The tunnel was filled with dozens of mummified remains. Half of them wore armor, the other half looked to be simple miners. And all of them seemed to have been down here a long, long time.

Several of the corpses were half-covered in stone. Many sported growths of the red crystal.

Tentatively, they tested the stone. Making sure it wasn’t alive or somehow amorphous. When it seemed safe, Hal stepped out in front. Intent on leading them down the ominous tunnel.

Not wanting to let the opportunity pass him by, Hal tried to loot the nearest corpse. As soon as he drew near, the crystal growing on the thing’s chest shimmered and he received a nasty shock that would have taken off more than a tenth of his HP.

Luckily, Barkskin absorbed just under half of the damage. It still hurt though.

The stone visibly grew, reclaiming more of the corpse. It bulged and rolled forward, up and over the corpse forcing Hal to take two steps back.

Seeing Hal loot a body, Vorax took it upon himself to help his friend and did the same. But where Hal was repelled by the crystalline growths, the Mimic was free to feast to his heart’s content.

“They’re all yours, Vorax,” Hal said to the mimic, not keen on repeating his shock.

“Stay clear of the crystals, got it,” Mira said, having watched Hal.

The mimic cleaned up the corpses easily enough, ridding them of whatever possessions they once had. They were about to continue on when Vorax made a strange burping sound.

Hal turned just in time to see the mimic spew handfuls of glittering crystalline chips – sparks – onto the ground. It reminded Hal of a slot machine when it hits the jackpot. Vorax imparted the sensation of eating something displeasing, his immediate instinct was to regurgitate the foul items.

Items that Hal clearly coveted. The mimic immediately showed Hal an image of a small blue velvet lined box filled with strange bits. Metallic plates, screws, rivets, and of course sparks.

With one long sweep of its thick purple tongue, the mimic reclaimed the sparks, mentally assuring Hal they were safe.

Unable to help himself, Hal did his best to show his gratitude and pride at the mimic’s continuing ability to learn. He fell into an easy crouch when Vorax came by and patted his glossy, well-polished treasure-chest-shaped body.

“He can eat sparks?” Mira asked, aghast.

“Apparently,” Hal answered with a shrug. “He eats treasure, not people. He’s the cool kind of mimic, not the gross one.”

Before Hal could press on, Vorax hopped ahead. Every so often a spiked tongue would lash out and nab a crystal growing out from the wall. A crystal that would have surely zapped one of them.

Narrow tunnels with rippling stone and dangerous glowing red crystalline growths made the going uneasy. All the more because Hal worried about Vorax’s safety as the mimic insisted on being at the head of the group.

No amount of mental prodding would dissuade the helpful mimic who continued to gobble up crystals, its tongue lashing out and ripping them easily from the strange cancerous stone as it passed.

Every blind turn felt like an ambush waiting to happen. Each time they were forced to squeeze past a particularly narrow section, they felt as if the walls would suddenly constrict and crush them.

There was a malevolence to the place. Something deeper than the Founder. Older.

Despite the slow going, it only took them half an hour to reach a fork in the tunnels. “More of a trident than a fork, really,” Mira said, looking at the three tunnels that split off in different directions.

More than ever before, Hal felt a pull down the middle tunnel. He was certain that the Vault was just up ahead. The tunnel was tighter than the others, with bulging smooth stone and sharp jagged crystals giving the approximation of a grinning, toothy maw.

Mira stepped up to the right. “The air gets a little colder down here.”

Elora took point on the left tunnel. “Hotter down here. This seems to be where the humidity is coming from.”

Hal took three steps down the short tunnel ahead, staring hard at the thick jagged crystals that sprouted like broken, blood-stained teeth from blackened gums.

A faint tickling in the back of his mind was the only hint he had that this was not like the other crystalline growths.

Vorax bounced up to the grinning mouth of crystals and lashed out with his long purple tongue. And though the mimic tried his best to eat the disgusting things his tongue couldn’t find any purchase to rip them out.

Try as he might, the mimic could not widen the gap. He sent a wave of apology to Hal, who was quick to reassure Vorax. It wasn’t his fault. They would find another way.

It was a door, one that would not yield to Vorax’s appetite. They needed something else to pass through. Even if they weren’t capable of emitting a painful jolt, the crystals were too sharp and too close to pass through without being shredded.

Hal turned about, thinking. He knew the Vault was down here and he intended to get inside and be done with this whole Coffin Contract once and for all.

“We’ll go down the left path,” Hal said pointing down the tunnel that curved out of sight a few feet in.

“We could just leave,” Mira countered, leaning against the tunnel from which a cooler air wafted into the small chamber. Hal noticed she held her spear differently. Almost like she expected to use it like a crutch. It was then that he realized the spear wasn’t as opulent as he remembered.

It looked old and worn. Just like her expression. She was scared, though she tried to hide it by acting nonchalant.

“We need to clear the monsters from the Coffin District,” Hal said, trying to put as much of his Leadership skill into his voice as he could. “And this is the path to do it. I won’t let Giel’s sacrifice be in vain. Our survival isn’t enough to justify that price.”

Hal needed to see this through.

For Giel. For the koblins. For his own Sanctum. Maybe the man he used to be would have taken the easy way out and just left. But he wasn’t that person anymore.

A change came over Mira and she stepped away from the wall. She stood a little straighter and nodded. “You’re right.”

If he went through the same trials and tribulations as Rinbast, would he end up the same as him?

Hal shook his head to clear it.

“So, either we have a boss fight or something probably gross and sticky,” Mira said. “If there are a bunch of florking eggs on the ground I am not going in. I’m not getting face hugged. At least not without a drink or two in me.”

Again, her use of vernacular drew Hal’s attention.

The elf looked over at him and quirked a brow. Almost like she was challenging him. A merry light danced in her violet eyes.

Hal struck off down the humid tunnel, the others following behind. The crystals they found down the left tunnel were strange and dull. Hal passed his hand over one, and receiving no shock, told Vorax to stay back.

Tunnel walls glistened with the moisture-laden air. After only a few steps they struggled to breathe the thick air. It felt like somebody pressed a hot, wet cloth over Hal’s face.

Snaking back on itself countless times, the group spent more time doubling back than moving forward. Every turn brought more heat and humidity until steam filled the cramped tunnel.

They emerged into a shrouded chamber covered in thick gouts of steam. Only Hal’s Shadesight proved impervious to the glare the Guild badges cast on the shifting clouds of steam.

“If I wanted a sauna,” Mira said, vainly trying to fan herself, “I would have gone to a bathhouse. At least there I would get an eyeful of something pleasing. I don’t see anything here, can we go?”

The Dragoon was partially right. In the shroud of steam, there seemed to be nothing. An omnipresent bubbling echoed around them, telling them they were in a spacious chamber.

Hal could see what the Dragoon could not.

With his Shadesight, Hal could pierce through the shroud of steam. They stood on a shelf of stone, slick with water that pooled in places, that stuck out barely two feet above the boiling lake that filled the chamber, stretching beyond his vision.

Seated at the center on a stone island – one Hal noticed was devoid of any tumorous growths or crystals – stood a pure-white obelisk that shimmered and warped the air around it like a heat mirage.

Hal did his best to explain what he saw, much to the interest of those around him.

“Can you see a symbol on it?” Ashera asked, coming forward and gripping Hal’s frayed aketon, ripping it further without realizing. She tried to peer through the shifting clouds but couldn’t.

“I’ve never seen you this interested in something,” Hal said quietly enough that only the Sin Keeper could hear him.

“Because I have only ever heard of these objects in academic tomes. If this is truly what I think it is, then we are in the presence of something older than even the Founders. Older than the gods themselves, perhaps.”

It was hard to make out with the constant shifting of the obelisk but eventually, Hal was able to find the symbol. “A curling ball of lines, kind of looks like a stylized ball of fire.”

“A Flame Totem,” Ashera and Elora said at once. There was no mistaking the reverent tone they shared.

78

Hal looked at the pair of them. “What is a ‘Flame Totem’?”

“Nobody really knows,” Ashera answered. She gripped his sleeve so tightly in her excitement as she once again attempted to peer through the clouds of steam that it ripped a little more and she suddenly noticed what she was doing. “Sorry.”

Hal looked at it then to Ashera’s sheepish smile. He sighed and brushed off the apology. “It still has enough durability. Go on.”

There is supposedly a Primordial Totem for each of the elements. They channel raw elemental magic. If this is the Flame Totem then the steam makes sense, though I thought they no longer worked. Supposedly if you touch it, you can receive a boon. Do you see any way to get to it?”

Hal peered over the edge, his face instantly drenched in the cloud of steam. “Aside from wading through boiling water? No.” He pulled back and had to blink his eyes several times to clear them.

Once again, he was pleased to have increased his VIT. Hal could remember getting scalded while boiling pasta and that was nothing like this. Yet, when he leaned over into the surge of heat he only felt mild discomfort.

“Maybe I could jump it?” Mira wondered aloud.

“Not unless you can leap over fifty feet and are immune to being boiled,” Hal said. “I’ll go.” Remembering how he carried Ashera soon after acquiring Beastborne, he turned to the Sin Keeper. She seemed the most excited about the obelisk after all, how much better would it be if she could see it up close? “Care to join me?”

If it was possible for the pale-skinned woman to get any paler, she probably would have then and there. Ashera looked at the boiling water then back at Hal. She nodded enthusiastically and Hal lifted her up into his arms.

Summoning his shadow-treant-limbs, Hal probed the depths of the water and found it surprisingly shallow. He would need to be careful but his essence created limbs should be long enough to lift them clear of the harmful water.

Hal pressed on, several times he maneuvered around a deep trough or sudden depression in the stone beneath the boiling water. The whole time he was thoroughly miserable, hotter than he’d ever been, and barely able to breathe the soupy air.

But he wasn’t taking any damage. And neither was Ashera, he noticed.

He made it to the stone island but found no relief. Setting foot onto the dry, hot stone, Hal was thankful for his new boots. His older ones would have likely disintegrated by now. Even through the sturdy insulation of his [Leaping Boots], Hal could feel the intense heat of the stone.

Ashera unwound her arms from his neck and stood in awe of the Flame Totem.

The white obelisk loomed ahead of them, drawing their eye skyward. It was as large as any oak tree Hal had ever seen. The air warped and twisted around it in a perpetual heat haze.

Each step closer ratcheted the heat up until Hal’s HP finally began to dip with every passing second. His skin burned and he had to back away before he even got within arm’s reach.

But not Ashera’s. The pale-skinned lamora waltzed right up to it, wincing only briefly as what little of her exposed skin reddened like a bad sunburn. She touched the white metal with her palm. Hal felt the surge of power ripple through her and spread outward.

As Ashera walked carelessly back, her face which was flushed and sweating just a moment ago was cool and pale. Not a drop of sweat marred her grinning visage. “You try it, Hal. It gets hot but it is okay once you touch it. I got a powerful fire resistance trait from it.”

“It burned me bad enough to drop my HP,” Hal remarked.

The Sin Keeper struck a pensive pose, watching Hal and then shifting her gaze to the obelisk.

Noth floated nearby, untethered by such mortal concerns as heat. With a thought, she swooped ahead of Hal and up to the obelisk. “So many things out of place,” she mused. “So much wrongness. This is ancient. Older than this mountain. It should have long ago ceased to function.”

“Clearly it still works.” Hal motioned to Ashera. “Native fire resistance would be real nice to have.” Not needing Monstrous Resistance would be a boon, and when he did use it any fire damage he received should be even less.

Tentatively, Hal stretched a shadow-treant-limb to the obelisk. As soon as it got within a handspan, it disintegrated and Hal felt a deep twisting pain in his gut.

He nearly collapsed from the sudden spasm of pain. The howl of agony, however, was not his voice. It was Besal’s.

Ashera was there in a heartbeat, hands on his shoulders. “What happened?”

Hal struggled to lift a hand and ward her off. She took two steps back but kept a wary eye on him.

“Do not go near it!” cried the Beast. And despite Hal’s attempts to get further elaboration, Besal said nothing more.

Regaining his composure, Hal looked at the obelisk again with newfound respect as he remade the shadow-treant-limb but noticed it was weaker and paler than before.

“You must touch it if you want the boon.” Noth finally said, stating the obvious.

Hal barked a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, sure. And get my hand melted to the metal? Even the Beast doesn’t want me going near it.” He looked to Ashera. “At least one of us got something out of this.”

He turned to leave and Noth floated into his way, her golden eyes aflame. “And why do you think that is? This is a representation of the primordial power of flame. Fire purges corruption. It cleanses. You feel pain because you are corrupted. Look at Ashera. It hurt her but did not cause lasting damage because she does not suffer from the corrupting effects of your Class.

“But the corruption is nascent yet, this may be your only chance to get near a Flame Totem. Were you more deeply attuned to your Class it would kill you but not yet. Touch it and receive its boon.”

Ashera watched but added nothing to the conversation. Hal doubted she would. She was a mediator and wouldn’t likely weigh in unless it was important. And while a buff that seemed to permanently reduce his damage to fire was good, the Sin Keeper could also hear Noth’s words.

She knew firsthand the strength of that corrupting influence within Hal. Ashera had fought the Beast when it seized control of his body. She understood this was Hal’s decision to make.

When Noth noticed that Hal still made no move toward the obelisk she stared hard at Hal. “Is it the Beast or Hal that determines your path?”

That brought a glare from not just Hal, but Ashera as well. Hal squared his shoulders and pressed forward, more to prove that he was still in control than anything else.

The heat cranked up once more but Hal noticed it wasn’t quite as intense. His essence-limbs burned away. The leather and cloth of his armor began to smoke. His skin felt like it was bubbling but he reached his hand forward anyway. He was in control. Not the Beast.

Perhaps that wasn’t such a wise decision.

Pain lanced through his hand and for a split-second he feared the worst. That the skin on his palm had melted to the obelisk. The Beast howled in agony.

Flames curled in long white-hot tongues up Hal’s right arm, burning the sleeve to ash. He watched as the passing of the flames left a dark shadow in their wake. His hand released and the heat of the island vanished. It felt no warmer than the steam after a hot shower.

Hal marveled at the fiery markings that curled and coiled up his arm to the shoulder. There was something in his palm, practically stuck to it. A hexagonal chip of the same metal as the obelisk.

You receive Blessing of the Flame.

+25% Permanent Fire Resistance.

-25% Permanent Water Resistance.

Partial Immunity to fire.

Resistance to Corruption.

You obtain a [Fragment of Flame].

There was a glyph on the center of the chip that shifted and rearranged itself like the flickering of a flame whenever Hal looked at it for more than a second.

“You didn’t die,” Noth pointed out with a smirk.

Ashera came up to him and stood by the obelisk with him. She glanced at his arm. “I wonder if I have a mark like that under my cuirass.” The lamora smiled more than he had ever seen her before. “Maybe we match!”

“That would be cool,” Hal said with a grin, noticing how the heat from the obelisk seemed to vanish.

And then he chanced to look at it and found that it wasn’t his newfound resistance that was the cause. The obelisk was turning dull and gray. The heat haze vanished.

It took Hal longer than he would have liked to leave the small stone island with Ashera in tow. Not for any discomfort but because his essence-limbs kept turning to ash whenever he summoned them.

They were hardly strong enough to bear his weight, much less the pair of them together.

By the time he set out across the lake, it was barely simmering and the obelisk behind them had turned cold and black like onyx.

After several long minutes of struggling, Hal finally managed the crossing. The only sweat that clung to his brow was that of the sheer concentration it took to keep his essence powers from disintegrating once more.

“My turn next!” Mira shouted as soon as Hal’s boots touched the stone.

Hal’s face paled as he set Ashera down and stared dumbfoundedly at the Dragoon. He didn’t know how to tell her that the obelisk was inert now.

The elf kept a straight face long enough that Hal opened his mouth a few times, trying to figure out how he could break the news to her. He felt bad that he had taken it without asking.

“I’m sorry,” Mira said, wiping away a tear. “Your face. It was priceless. My awesome Dragoon powers already make me nearly immune to flames.” She motioned to Elora. “Maybe the Ranger would like some fire protection?”

Elora took one look at Hal, then at the distant black obelisk. “No. Not that it would work if we tried.”

Mira looked at it then at Hal and Ashera. “You broke it.”

Shaking his head, Hal released his essence-limbs. As soon as he did, he felt better. They were never that difficult to maintain before.

He wasn’t even sure he could summon the shadow-limbs or anything essence-based at the moment.

It was more than a little worrying.

Ashera looked back at Hal, and he was thankful for the distraction. “Did it speak to you?”

His brow furrowed. “No, did it talk to you?”

The Sin Keeper shook her head. “Some legends say that the primordial elementals sometimes speak through such totems to chosen heroes. They imbue them with great strength and set them with the task of righting the balance. I guess neither of us is ‘chosen hero’ material.”

Hal chuckled and pressed on, back through the winding tunnel that would lead them back to the intersection. “More’s the pity.”

Ashera gently swatted his arm. “Do not say that, Hal. The world could always use more heroes.”

Every crystal that Hal passed shattered into dust as they backtracked to the central chamber. If any crystal wasn’t already powder by the time Ashera stepped near it, they were after she passed. It was an interesting byproduct of their new gift.

Nothing was going to stand in their way now.

79

Hal went down the middle path with Ashera while Elora and Mira – despite what she said about her resistance to fire - took a moment to recover from the sweltering, suffocating humidity.

The largest crystals cracked and blasted to dust in their presence. An eager Vorax lapped up the dust they left behind, staining his purple tongue red like an overeager child dumping a packet of kool-aid mix into their mouth.

The ominous vertical mouth of crystals resisted breaking at first but when Ashera joined Hal, their combined presence proved too great. The overlapping crystals shattered. The sound of breaking glass filled the tunnel as the cancerous stone rolled back like some great spasming intestine.

His [Fragment of Flame] cooled rapidly in his palm while the stone shifted as if some vital strength was draining from it.

The path ahead was clear, the tunnel widened so the two of them could walk abreast comfortably. It was straight enough to see a segment of a worked stone hallway in the distance.

“What… did you two just do?” Elora asked, giving Hal then Ashera a firm once-over with her blue-gray eyes.

“Noth said that the primordial flames had the capacity to cleanse corruption.” He held up the chip, flat on his opened palm. “I got this from the obelisk, it cools down every time the crystals are destroyed.”

He was surprised at how well it worked.

And he was happy that holding the hexagonal fragment didn’t kill him on the spot considering the corrupting nature of Beastborne. The pain he felt earlier was gone.

Briefly, he wondered if the Beast was gone. Was he was free of Besal, cleansed of that corruption? Doubtful. Hal wasn’t that lucky.

Serves him right, Hal thought. Payback sucks, doesn’t it Besal?

Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.

“Do you mind?” Elora asked. Hal shook his head and she plucked the thing from his hand, looking it over.

After a while, Elora shrugged and handed it off to Ashera. The Sin Keeper looked up at him and produced an identical chip from her left palm. Each of them looked over the strange things, their identical glyphs shifting to each of their eyes.

“Two is better than one, I guess,” Mira said, leaning over to look at them.

Ashera handed Hal’s chip back to him. “Do you think it’s this chip or our interaction with the obelisk?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. My best guess is somewhere in between. Some interaction of the obelisk and the gift it bestowed us.”

With the strange chips in hand, they had no trouble reaching the small square room at the end of the hall. Its walls were worked in a similar manner to the rest of the Founder’s complex.

But what drew all their attention was the massive vault door that took up the entire rear wall.

It was unlike anything Hal had ever seen. And from the way each of his friends stood beside him, staring at the strange thing, he guessed he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Filled with gears, cogs, sprockets, chains, and hydraulic struts of bright gold, the entire door was a never-ending series of moving parts.

“What the heck is that?” Mira asked, getting so close Hal was afraid one of the gears would gouge her.

“It’s the Vault, clearly,” Elora said. “Only Rinbast would make something so ridiculous.” She turned to Hal. “The answer to clearing the Coffin District is in there, right?”

“That’s what the shadows said,” Hal replied.

The Ranger stepped back, taking Mira away and motioned for Hal to go on.

Every so often the gears and chains would move, rearranging into a different shape. Beneath them, a heavy door of dull black metal could be seen.

Standing in front of it, Hal felt himself being drawn into the pattern. Deeper and deeper it went as his gaze unfocused from each individual piece and the pattern consumed him.

In the moving patterns, he saw vague hints calling back to the doodles he used to draw when he should’ve been paying attention back in college. The chains pulled taut to reveal geometric designs and he began to guess their shape before they fully formed.

The Founder’s mark on his forearm burned so fiercely that he let out a shout. It felt like somebody pressed a white-hot branding iron to his skin.

If his friends heard, they didn’t react or move to help him. And as he looked about at each of their faces his breath hitched in his throat. They were frozen. Not a one moved or blinked.

Time stood still for them.

The gears and chains rattled and clanked, rearranging themselves once more. Like a curtain of machinery, they rolled back revealing that black door again.

Hal looked about for the Reaper, finally finding her near the ceiling. He shouldn’t have been surprised she was unaffected. “Can you get through?” Hal asked.

In answer, the Reaper drifted forward and pressed her gauntleted hand to the black metal beneath the chains and machinery.

Emblazoned on the wall was a larger-than-life replica of his mark. At its center was a golden handprint. As thick as he could be sometimes, even Hal could guess what the door wanted.

He placed his hand upon the print, unsurprised when it was a perfect match.

The golden Founder mark flared and then, for the first time ever, it guttered and went dark. In that instant, he felt a swooping sensation in his stomach like the drop in a rollercoaster. He understood then what was needed to open the door.

Cold washed through him as his HP halved, then halved again and again until he was left in the double-digits.

A payment of blood was required to gain entry.

It was over before Hal could regret his decision. The wall vanished in the blink of an eye and he staggered forward into darkness. Weak and off-balance, Hal fell to his hands and knees.

The [Fragment of Flame] dropped from his right hand and skittered across the floor. He reached for it weakly and put it away into his inventory for safe-keeping.

It’s a good thing I can bolster my HP at will, he thought.

Smirking to himself, he used Assimilation to recover his HP up to half by taking a large chunk out of SP and a quarter out of his more considerable MP. As he did, he felt a pang of loss for the Wortlings. He was glad the missing Wortling didn’t end up hunting them down.

And in even better spirits knowing that he could plant two of them at a later date.

Getting to his feet, he looked over his shoulder at the familiar black door now lacking the customary gears and chains. His friends were on the other side of the door.

A quick glance around the room showed no immediate threats. Hal turned back to the door searching for a way out. He saw a single gold handle so heavily etched with runes that it looked like a fingerprint and guessed its purpose easily enough.

He reached out for it, worried about those he left behind. The whole point of getting the party back together wasn’t to leave them behind again.

“Hal,” Noth called, freezing his hand an inch from the handle.

“You’re here,” he said, as much a question as a statement. He stared at the Reaper’s slender form. She was corporeal, and so was he. It felt stupid but he had to ask the obvious question. “Am I dead?”

This was one of the few times both of them seemed to exist on the same plane of existence. Ever since his resurrection, their bond was one of corporeal and ethereal.

“No,” she said, pacing the room. Her dark metal greaves echoed harshly off the stone walls. “This is something else. I don’t think your friends are even aware of your absence.”

Hal looked back over his shoulder then gave the strange room a once-over. Strange only because it seemed more at home on Earth than Aldim. It looked like a high-end apartment, but so much was broken or shattered. It was absolutely trashed.

Chairs were smashed to flinders. Bookshelves fit into the stone recesses along the walls were nothing more than blackened husks. Several walls sported blast marks. The floor glittered with broken glass.

The room was flooded with light from several globules of pale amber light suspended high above their heads every ten feet. As Hal walked the room, the placement of the chairs, the remnants of tables, and the large amount of bookshelves painted a picture in his mind’s eye.

“I think this was a study or personal library of some sort,” Hal said as he crouched by what seemed to be the remnants of a display case.

In that pile of shattered glass and dark polished wood, his eye caught something. More than his eye, he felt a strong magical presence from his Perception. Careful not to cut himself, Hal shifted the refuse around to reveal the edge of a heavily folded map.

You obtain a (Legendary) [Explorer’s Map].

You have received your first Legendary quality item. Items of Legendary quality are impossible to fully destroy without specific rites and rituals. They also bind to their owner making them impossible to trade or sell once used.

You have unlocked Exploration (Level 0).

The Exploration skill allows you to discern differences in the environment and keep track of your position on your Explorer’s Map. The higher your Exploration skill, the more detailed and accurate your map will become.

At low Levels the map will be vague and inaccurate, often with little more than the area’s name. As your skill progresses, the detail becomes greater and your position relative to your surroundings becomes clear.

Before Hal could tuck it away, the [Explorer’s Map] vanished with a shimmer of blue light. Thinking about it made it reappear in his hands already unfolded.

It vaguely reminded him of the Marauder’s Map, in that it was designed with lines of ink and altogether looked confusing to read. He couldn’t get a good sense of scale or proportion and expected that he wouldn’t.

Not with his current Level 0 Exploration skill at least.

The longer he stared at the map the more detailed it became until a pair of footprints appeared that he suspected were his own. The skill never said anything about being able to see other people’s positions.

He looked up and focused on the room, the dimensions of it, and as he did the map reflected his thoughts. The inked walls became straighter and the proportions were reined in.

Your Exploration has risen to Level 1.

+10% Faster drawing speed (+10%).

+3% Discoverable range (+3%).

Eventually, the name of the room unfurled like a rolled out banner.

The Infernal Study

80

“I was right,” Hal said, folding up the map after making sure no further revelations were forthcoming.

Inspecting a pile of ash, Noth looked up at him curiously. “About?”

Hal stood up, the map vanished into blue particles as he willed it away. “This room is called ‘The Infernal Study,’ whatever that means. It’s a study.”

The Reaper looked around at the trashed room then back at Hal. “Strange you were able to find anything worth salvaging.” She moved off toward the far wall, an unadorned section of smooth stone that stood out only because it lacked damage.

A pale glow within a charred bookshelf on his right caught his attention as he went to join the Reaper, his Perception picking up something else he would have missed.

Really useful having good Perception.

Among a pile of burned books was a single tome, charred around the edges but intact. Hal took it but then felt around the rough and blackened remains of the shelf on a hunch.

Something about the shelf felt off to him. He used to like building false bottoms and secret hiding places – a byproduct of having nosey parents, just like his fascination with cryptography. If this was Rinbast’s study, what were the odds that he had the same inclinations?

After a decent search of the surrounding shelves, his fingers felt a small catch. Not sure if I feel better or worse for guessing this would be here. When he flipped the catch, a plume of ash puffed into Hal’s face, blinding him. He coughed heavily, wiping his face with the tattered remains of his single sleeve.

But it wasn’t a trap as he initially feared. He spat out the ash and blinked hard.

When he regained his vision, Hal found a small cubby in the back of the shelf holding a single heavily carved brass cube. He grabbed it but had to reach in with both hands because its weight was many times higher than such a small fist-sized item should have been.

Your Perception has risen to Level 15.

+2% Perception highlight chance (+30%).

+5% Awareness of magical items (+75%).

+10% Danger sense (+30%).

Your Investigation has risen to Level 10.

+1% Investigation speed (+10%).

+2% Investigation success (+20%).

+5% Point of interest highlight chance (+10%).

You have 1 Investigation Perk point awaiting assignment.

You obtain a [Void Coffer].

You obtain an [Alth’rasi Codex].

Now wasn’t the time to go perusing his perks, so Hal left it for later.

Seeing no way to open the cube, Hal pocketed it and opened the book. He flipped through a few of the weathered pages.

The script was cramped and used up every possible inch of the paper, like the worst set of crib notes he’d ever seen. The symbols hurt his head to look at and he immediately remembered where he saw their like before. The fog-strewn maze.

Those black tombstones that blocked their way, the same ones Nothricient couldn’t pass through came to mind. They had the same symbols that hurt to look at for any length of time.

This was the second codex he found. And he knew they bore a striking similarity to one another. But his latest find seemed different, vaguely familiar as if Rinbast had tried to imitate the sigils in the [Unknown Codex].

He shook the thoughts from his head, focusing on Noth instead.

“What’ve you found?” Hal asked the Reaper, joining her at the wall.

Focused on the strangely unblemished wall, she barely seemed to hear the question. Hal couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something. All this protection for a study? And then no protections in place for the items of value inside?

It didn’t add up. The only thing standing out was the wall ahead of them.

He was about to Mana Investiture to see if he could break through the wall but the Reaper was well ahead of him.

Noth whipped out her black scythe and slashed in a cross against the wall. Hal braced himself, expecting a loud cacophonous racket of the metal grating against stone.

But there was no noise.

A hush descended on the chamber as the far wall rippled and wavered like the image of the reflected sky when a pebble is tossed into a still pond. The illusion faded and revealed a blank wall, with an ancient stone archway set into it.

A heavy tapestry hung over the archway. The repeating pattern of the Founder’s mark was picked out in shining gold thread atop the black cloth.

Noth reached out to brush it aside but couldn’t budge the cloth. She tried again, dismissing her scythe as she yanked on a fold with both hands.

It might as well have been solid metal for all it moved.

Seeing the symbol made Hal wonder. His mark hadn’t returned. He was so used to seeing the projection of golden light that he wondered if the mark was still there. A part of him hoped it was gone for good.

Hal stripped the broken bracer off his left arm. He looked at his mark. Black ink, nothing more.

“Help me with this, Hal,” Noth said, still trying to pull the tapestry aside.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to help much anymore,” he said, reaching out with his left arm to show her the dull plain mark. It was nothing more than a tattoo.

When he touched the curtain, it moved as easily as any heavy cloth might. Noth shot him a superior look. The shimmering marks on the cloth vanished, draining their golden magic back into his Founder mark. By the time the cloth was moved aside - barely a few seconds - Hal’s mark was glowing once more. Though it was no longer lifted off his skin.

Noth stood aside, deferring to Hal. “I am just a witness,” she said.

Hal swallowed past the lump in his throat and passed through the archway. The temperature dipped precipitously. His breath came out in thick white puffs.

For once, he wished his vision was limited by the light of the Guild badge he still wore. With his Shadesight, Hal could make out everything before him. And the sight chilled his blood.

The room he stood within was spacious and wide. Exactly thirty-seven steps descended down to a strip of ancient stone that he knew was thirty-seven paces wide before another equal set of stairs rose to a massive gate that dominated the wall it was set within.

As he stood there, the room began to shift and groan like a sleeping giant roused from its hibernation. Another step sprouted from the stone at his feet, making for thirty-eight steps. The strip of pitted stone at the bottom grew slightly, and the stairs going up to a black stone gate gained another step as well.

Standing there, Hal could only stare. The room just grew before his eyes.

Most of the far gate was blocked from sight by long, twisting roots that stretched down from some high space up above to dip into a circular shallow pool of oil.

He knew without a doubt that those were the roots of the Manatree. And he felt a pang of sympathy for the thing. It was in pain. Infected. The Manaseed bound to his soul cried out for him to set things right.

Hal was assaulted by the wrongness of the place. He felt like he stood on the precipice of some great bottomless pit. Every instinct told him to turn around and flee this place.

That first step was the hardest.

He took each step carefully, absolutely sure that any moment something dark and terrible was going to rush out and attack him.

Nothing did.

The Reaper came behind him, her armored steps even lighter than Hal’s leather boots. Each step brought a shiver through Hal’s spine. Every step past the first was more damaged, pitted by some unknown darkness that permeated the frigid air.

While the most recently sprouted step looked brand new, the deeper he descended the more the stone crumbled. It reminded him like aged and decrepit tombstones.

The Founder’s Fear

Your Exploration has risen to Level 2.

+10% Faster drawing speed (+10%).

+3% Discoverable range (+3%).

You are afflicted with Old One’s Blight.

The aura of being so close to an antediluvian gate is corrupting the very air you breathe. Being a Beastborne, you feed on this unnatural corruption, allowing it to strengthen you while it slowly inflicts Strain upon you.

HP, SP, and MP +20%.

HP, SP, and MP recovery +50%.

Strain Accumulation +50%.

Hal’s vision was drawn from the Manatree roots to the massive gate that took up the entire rear of the cavernous chamber. A grotesque abomination of a creature was carved in bas-relief on the gate like some sort of religious icon.

Mind-bending symbols were carved larger than life encircling the creature’s squid-like head. It had six fingers raised in a holy gesture and wore intricate robes. The unsightly creature made Hal sick to look at.

But it was Noth’s discovery that truly terrified him. The Reaper came around the stone-ringed pool of oil and froze. “Hal.”

The tone of her voice snapped Hal’s attention from the monstrous carving. She was standing a few yards away. He thought she was looking at the pool but as he came to join her, he saw the truth of it.

It was a body lying beside the stone pool. He couldn’t understand why she was frozen, staring at the corpse.

Not until he came around the curving edge of the stone and saw the man’s face.

His face.

“It’s you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hal’s heart pounded in his chest.

Noth crouched down, studying his face. “He’s preserved,” she said, turning his cold lifeless cheek one way then the other.

A pale glint of light reflected on his brow. He wore some kind of jeweled circlet. The gold was heavily tarnished by age but the pale gem still shone brightly in the reflection of his Guild badge.

“Is he dead?” Hal asked, unable to tear his eyes away. The man had Hal’s face but everything else about him was so very unlike Hal. This man had fairly ornate plate armor, cunningly worked to fit his muscular frame.

A frame Hal certainly did not have despite his increased STR and VIT.

He was everything most guys wanted to be. His features were more chiseled, sculpted in a way Hal’s weren’t. Even with the opulent armor, it was obvious how built he was.

“Yes, but….” Noth trailed off without seeming to notice.

“But what?”

“But his soul hasn’t moved on. It’s… here.” She held a hand over his left arm and with surprising ease she removed the gauntlet, revealing a muscular forearm bearing the same mark as Hal’s. The only difference was at the heart of the mark was a tatooed number: #37.

“His soul is still… in the mark?” Is that what the Shadow Sages meant when they asked if he had a number?

“Yes.” The implications disturbed him. Would his own soul be trapped when he died?

Noth looked up and read his expression. “This was voluntarily done,” she assured him.

“But why?”

“That is the question.” Noth stood up and backed away.

“Ever the Witness?” he asked, noting the way she was distancing herself.

“I should not be corporeal,” she told him, more than a little trepidation in her voice. “Something is very wrong here.”

Hal motioned to his… self? His brother? Knowing what the shadows told him, this wasn’t technically a clone, but himself from an alternate timeline.

Maybe one where Al Gore had been president. Or one where Steve Jobs didn’t die from cancer. The possibilities were infinite. Maybe in this Hal’s timeline, he actually finished college. “You think?”

“Aside from that.”

Hal crouched by the man’s side, eyes misted for some reason he couldn’t pinpoint. This was him. Or at least a version of him. Did he die here, alone, and without any comfort?

More than anything else, that was one of Hal’s greatest fears. Dying alone and scared. He reached a hand out to touch the golden mark on the dead man’s arm. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Don’t be,” said a voice not unlike his own but with a deeper, richer timbre.

81

Hal’s heart stuttered in his chest and he fell back, scrambling on all fours to put some distance between him and the specter of the dead man that suddenly stood before him.

Ethereal and fuzzy at the edges, he looked to Hal. His form shifted at the edges like a wind was constantly blowing, trying to dissolve him. He gave Hal a kindly smile.

“This must freak you out, huh?” asked the other Hal. There was mirth in his eyes and oddly, a sense of relief too. Was he pleased to see another Hal? He hardly seemed surprised.

Hal nodded, getting to his feet slowly, never taking his eyes off the ethereal specter.

The ghost looked down at his own hands, seeing through them to the body below. “I always wondered what it’d be like to be a force ghost or one of the wraiths from Tolkien,” he said with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “First thing’s first, let’s get the naming scheme out of the way, you can just call me Thirty-seven. What number are you?”

Hal looked at his own mark, expecting to find a number there. “I-I don’t know.” He held out his forearm. “I have no number.”

Thirty-seven’s eyes widened. “Well, that’s interesting. You haven’t met Rinbast then, I take it?”

Hal shook his head.

“Lucky you.”

Noth angled her head, watching Thirty-seven. The ghost turned to regard her. “Things keep getting more interesting,” he said. “Are you here to bring me to my final rest?” The tone of his voice told Hal others had tried.

The Reaper shook her head. “I am here as a Witness until I can return to my domain. Already I have tampered too much in the affai-”

Thirty-seven raised his hand to stop her. “Got it, not important. We’ve got Hal-business to talk about.” He made a shooing gesture. To Hal’s amazement, the Reaper shrugged and walked all the way to the rough wall at the side, out of earshot.

“You’ve got to teach me how to do that,” Hal said.

“It comes with time,” Thirty-seven said. “That, and Leadership. You have that yet?”

Hal nodded.

“Good, it’s one of the better skills once you Level it a bit. Level twenty gives you an extra party member if you’re the leader.” He shook his head. “Sorry, getting off track here.”

“Off track of… what?” Hal dared to ask.

Thirty-seven motioned to his corpse. “I’d like to spare you the same fate. If you’ve got a second.” Seeing no interruption from Hal, he continued, “First, how much do you know about what happened here?”

“Not much, I’ve hardly been here a few weeks,” Hal answered.

That brought Thirty-seven up short. “In… Murkmire?”

“Aldim.”

“What Level are you? Why are you here? Scratch that. How are you still alive?”

And so, Hal told him all that he could remember from his first arrival to that moment, giving him the cliff notes as it were.

Up to and including his Contract to free the Coffin District – a name Thirty-seven didn’t recognize until Hal explained it – and re-establish the protection of the Manatree so the koblins might have a home. However temporary it may be.

“Gods be good, you really got screwed in some ways, but avoiding Rinbast probably makes up for all that.” He scrubbed a hand over his scruffy face. He still wore a ghostly version of his armor but it didn’t look ridiculous on him as it would on Hal. He looked like a proper knight, strong and just. Nothing like Hal’s younger, untried features, for all that they shared a face.

Standing beside the ghostly version of himself, Hal couldn’t help but see the differences. The man wore expensive, ornate armor.

Meanwhile, Hal wore tattered clothes that were barely holding on. If not for Elora’s [Repair Kit], he’d be practically naked. He doubted Thirty-seven’s armor needed repair after all these years even. Despite the age, it still looked new.

All he could do was shrug.

“So you know the Founder labeled this a failure,” Thirty-seven began again. “And you’ve guessed decently that there was a riot, a revolt to be exact. But you’re wrong about the Shadow Crawlers and other shadow creatures. They weren’t the enemy. Well, scratch that. They were at first when the Founder sent them against us.

“It started peacefully enough. Murkmire was a profitable and revolutionary town fast on its way to becoming a mecca for innovation and trade. The Founder originally wanted to encourage that. I came at his behest as I had the highest Leadership, Charisma, and had taken the Paladin Class, making me the obvious choice for diplomacy for the burgeoning town.”

He paused, staring at Hal pensively. “I don’t really want to monologue this, I’m sure as a new arrival you get that all the time. How about I show you?”

Hal raised a brow and looked at Thirty-seven skeptically. “How?”

Thirty-seven reached out a hand. “Grab my hand and I will walk you through my memories. So that you might let the blunders of your brother fill your plate.”

As wary as Hal knew he should be, it was nearly impossible not to trust him on an instinctual level. Thirty-seven had the same mannerisms, the same way of talking, as he did. Trust came naturally and so Hal hardly hesitated as he clasped the man’s hand.

Everything twisted and shifted, the world folded in on itself as darkness collapsed upon them.

They stood in an opulent room of bright tapestries. Thirty-seven’s corporeal body was dressed in a finely cut uniform of high-rank, judging by the embroidery, and stood with his back to the room.

The very picture of a leader.

The ghost of Thirty-seven stepped up beside the man’s memory of himself. He turned back to Hal. “They can’t see us or hear us. This is nothing more than a memory of things as they were. I’ve never been a great storyteller.” He motioned to the room. “Hopefully this makes up for that.”

“You said you were sent here… by Rinbast? You worked for him?” Hal couldn’t hide the incredulous tone that crept into his voice.

“Ah… yeah. That.” Thirty-seven rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Not much of a choice you see. The world is a harsh place. Other Founders aren’t too happy about Rinbast’s… extracurriculars.

“He told me the truth of what he was doing, gave me the choice to go out on my own, or accept his guidance. You’ve been out there, how long do you think you would have survived if you hadn’t been picked up by your friends? How did you even learn the language?”

“Not long,” Hal admitted. “Probably would have died the second or third night I arrived. As for the language… I had help. I get your point.”

Thirty-seven nodded. “It wasn’t a hard decision to make. I wish I could say it was, that I saw some evil glimmer of the man he would become but I didn’t. I saw my own face, a little older and wiser, but still recognizable. Still my own.”

Hal motioned to the man at the window as the wide double doors to the room banged open and another Hal came into the room wearing bright silvery armor.

“That’s Thirty-five.”

Hal just shook his head.

Thirty-five walked up to Thirty-seven. Just thinking those words as the scene unfolded made Hal snicker like a twelve-year-old. It felt like the poor setup to an even worse numbers joke like why seven was afraid of nine.

“The Great Road is progressing apace,” Thirty-five said with a casual air. “We’ll have a protected trade route between Murkmire and the capitol in no time. The people won’t fear Manastorms or raids anymore once it is completed.”

Thirty-seven nodded. “Good. Tell the Founder that everything is proceeding fine here. The Manatree is healthy and growing nicely. The dwarves have found a new rich vein to tap but I am worried about the increasing number of beastmen sightings to the southern woods.”

“I’ll send a detachment of men to go check it out,” Thirty-five said. “Might even go myself after I stop off at the Gone Goose to see Millie.”

“How is Tormand’s wife, and the little one?” Thirty-seven asked, his eyes brightening.

“She’s fine, the calf’s a big one,” Thirty-five said with a chuckle. “Already looks like he’ll be bigger than Tormand. I saw her on the way here actually.

“She doesn’t have the little tike to blame anymore about the babe’s making her eat more than two full-grown lamora men combined. As if she couldn’t always clear a feast on her own.”

“Sounds about right, tell her if she ever wants to stop being a Tavern Keeper and wants some Levels in City Councillor, the job offer’s still open.”

Thirty-five snorted. “You know she loves that place.”

“Worth a shot. She’s got too fine a head on her shoulders to be wasting it serving drinks and providing entertainment.”

“I’ll make sure she gets the message,” Thirty-five gave a mock salute and left through the same doors he entered.

“I know that tavern,” Hal said. “Giel ran it when I came to Murkmire….”

Thirty-seven’s ghost looked at him in shock. “Abegielamanonalos? How is he?”

In Hal’s explanation, he glossed over meeting Giel and Mira, only stating that two people joined his party. There was too much to say to include every little twist and turn of his story. Even as short as it was.

So, Hal told him the story of Giel in full. As he did, Thirty-seven waved his hand and the scene froze, letting Hal tell the story without interruption.

When he was done Thirty-seven’s jaw was clenched tight. “It seems he became a fine young man all the same. Tormand would’ve been proud to know his son died a warrior’s death.”

With another wave of his arm, the memory of Thirty-seven shifted.

They stood in council chambers, all rich wood and high-backed chairs. As before, the ghost of Thirty-seven and Hal appeared near the memory of Thirty-seven. He looked older, closer to the man that stood beside him in ghostly form.

“Over the years the Founder had great plans, all to the betterment of those around him. As ridiculous as it sounds, at one point or another there were dozens of different Hal’s running around doing one thing or another,” Thirty-seven said.

He motioned to the somber attitude of the room. “That was before the Manastorms grew worse. Nobody knows why or how it happened, but the Manastorms have begun to strike the Fallmark region in a rolling cascade of death and violence.”

The council, consisting of various races of both genders, seemed to huddle in that large room as if the man at the center of their table could protect them from the thunderous booms outside that shook the walls.

“We must not give in to panic,” the memory of Thirty-seven said. “The Manatree is mature enough to fend off the Manastorms and I will stay with it to assure its health. The City Guard have all the walls manned and we remain ever vigilant. This storm will pass like all the others.”

“But those affected by the Manastorms are coming in greater number,” said an older orc with thinning gray hair at his temples. “If we keep admitting them in, our stores will run dry. We were not meant to house so many. I vote we bar the gates to all who seek entry.”

Several other hands shot up around the table. Thirty-seven’s did not and those he turned his dark stare on lowered their hands until only a few men and women remained.

“We can ration,” the memory of Thirty-seven said confidently. “You can do without fine roasted turkey and roast beast for a little while Almon. One of your ‘dinners’ would be enough to fill the bellies of fifty commoners. I will not see people starve while another’s table is full of finery.”

Hal watched the same scene play out again and again in rapid succession. Each time Thirty-seven spoke with greater and greater command. The look of hopelessness was replaced by one of eager anticipation.

“In time,” Thirty-seven said, placing an ethereal hand on Hal’s shoulder. “With the destruction of the Great Road and the isolation of Murkmire from the Founder, things began to change for the better. Nearly two years of hardships to be overcome.” Thirty-seven shook his head sadly. “And in one day, Rinbast nearly tore it all down.”

82

Hal watched as the memory rippled, revealing Thirty-seven at a desk reading a rumpled letter. “He can’t be serious,” he said, looking up to the messenger.

The man, wearing worn chainmail armor beneath a leather jerkin, shrugged his large shoulders. “Times have been hard all over. Murkmire fared better than many fledgling towns. Their Manasaplings failed them and they were wiped off the map.”

“But this will starve the city!” Thirty-seven banged his fist on the desk, jarring and jolting the various items on it. The messenger wasn’t the least bit concerned. “Murkmire has grown considerably since the Manastorms cut everybody off. Demanding half of our food and supplies will cripple us. I will go to Fallwreath and speak to Rinbast myself.”

The messenger raised a black-gloved hand. “The Founder is not seeing anybody. You have been away for a long time. There were many attempts on the Founder’s life. Many of your brethren lay dead in his defense or at the hands of some cultists who thought killing the marked would end the Manastorm threat.”

“Then surely he would like to see one of his own,” Thirty-seven countered.

But the messenger merely shook his shaggy head back and forth. “Many of those attempts came from your kind. You have guided Murkmire well and on that merit alone you are granted more station than any of your fellows. Pay the tithe and be thankful.”

The ghost of Thirty-seven walked between the memory of himself and the messenger, motioning toward the latter. “How I hated this man.” He turned to Hal. “You have to understand. Rinbast wasn’t always the way you know him. He used to be a force for good. I don’t know what happened in the intervening years and never had the opportunity to learn but clearly, his heart darkened in ways I could not fathom.

“This scene was played out again and again. At first, I relented, trusting and hoping that Rinbast knew best. He was supposed to be the greatest of us. But I was wrong.”

Thirty-seven waved a hand and scenes of dirty, huddled forms in the street materialized around them. Waifs ran barefoot on dirty cobblestone streets. Grimy hands outstretched for aid as new, rich merchants rolled into town.

Throughout them, Thirty-seven walked in a shrouded tattered cloak. Observing what Rinbast was doing to his city. “This was not right. We had warm places with dry beds and hot meals for these people. One by one those on the city council were replaced by the new merchants that came into town. The rules shifted to their benefit, granting them greater power and control.

“Before I knew it, I became a figurehead. A hero that was too valuable to replace but one that they feared to trust with the power to make a difference.”

Every memory showed Thirty-seven in a progressively greater state of duress. Bags under his eyes, a tightness to his face from constant grimacing. The scenes of the council chambers shifted out of Thirty-seven’s favor. Now his stares fell over fat, opulent creatures that cared only to increase their hoard.

“I was too trusting,” he told Hal. “This is my greatest shame. That I allowed this to happen. By the time I fought back, I was vestigial. So I reached out to the former friends and councilmen that once guided Murkmire. Most of them were gone. Their homes were taken by newer, wealthier residents.

“Unable to enact change and fearing what would happen if I made the dangerous trek to Fallwreath on my own, I stayed and sought allies wherever I could.”

His memories swirled, revealing darkened meeting rooms in the backs of taverns. One in particular looked familiar. It was the same room Giel had shown him hidden away in the Gone Goose.

There was a woman there with bright red hair and a kind face, a large pair of horns curled out of her hair. And beside her, tugging on her tunic was a young Giel. All curly red locks and smiles.

Hal saw more than a few interactions between Thirty-seven and young Giel. When Thirty-seven caught Hal’s curious look he chuckled. “We were friends,” he explained. “Nothing more.”

“Tormand died defending the town. I made sure that neither Millie nor Giel wanted for nothing. I loved them as my own family.” Thirty-seven looked away, the curving scar on his face stood out starkly on his ethereal features suddenly.

More meetings. Dank waterways lit by candlelight and filled with a wide tapestry of people. The huddled faces were dirty and careworn but their eyes shone with that same light Hal saw in Elora’s eyes. The light of hope and coming change.

Thirty-seven’s ghost appeared at Hal’s side, walking down a brightly lit street packed with men and women of all races in rich and colorful clothes. “Among the ten Rings of Murkmire, the Cloud Ring was the most important. It was the entertainment area where all the merchants went to spend their coin and plot how to further their own fortunes at the expense of the commoners.”

Hal could see where he was going. “You wanted to make a statement,” Hal said, noting the several dark shadows within the sidestreets and alleyways.

Thirty-seven nodded. “Originally, the Cloud Ring was a place for the well-off citizens to enjoy traveling troupes and various theatres but it also had parks and open gardens areas for all people.

The merchants quickly put a stop to that and raised temples to their debauchery and greed. Gambling halls where the poor could play rigged games to go further into debt replaced green parks.

“My original intent was to scare the nobles by organizing a demonstration. A protest.” Thirty-seven motioned to the rising chorus of voices ahead. Dozens of commoners filled the streets with signs demanding everything from clean water to fair wages. Everything Murkmire once had.

“I underestimated how deep their corruption went. How strongly the demands of Rinbast changed the rules in Murkmire. With such a crippling tithe, the merchants took it upon themselves to bring in food and supplies. Binding people to their will by threatening to stop putting food on their table.

“A man will do a lot of terrible things in the name of protecting their family, Hal. Never forget that. Even good men and women. I misunderstood this. It was a painful lesson I was fated to repeat again and again. My constant optimism defeated by the dark realities of the world that had changed around me.”

The merchants jeered and shouted back but soon were outnumbered by the common rabble. They fled as only cowards would and returned not with more merchants but with an armed guard.

With brutal efficiency, the guards broke up the protest while at the same time crippling and maiming many of the protestors. The scene was a classic example of an authoritarian regime cracking down on its citizenry.

The next memory of a different protest went better, armed and ready for the attack the protestors battled the guards. Thirty-seven was there at their head and more than a few of the guards hesitated or threw down their weapons at the sight of that gleaming armor.

But Hal could see where this was going. Every fight escalated things and each memory that materialized around Hal and Thirty-seven illustrated that point clearly.

He had a hard time believing the man could be so dense. Each protest achieved little to nothing but to make the merchants angrier and less tolerant. Soon there was fighting in the streets and though Thirty-seven could heal and rally his people, the merchants had the whole of the City Guard at their beck and call.

Things turned nasty, quickly.

If Thirty-seven had taken more drastic, immediate measures he might have staved off the worst. But he only escalated in response at first. And just like with his dealings on the council, by the time he realized his error it was too late.

The Founder had come to Murkmire and not to talk. While Thirty-seven lacked any memory of the actual doings of the Founder, his memory of the Manatree being sabotaged was bright and clear.

With the resistance having taken the Cloud Ring’s Gilded District for themselves, the Founder retaliated by fencing them in with more soldiers than they had ever seen. Unable to break out of the district but with plenty of supplies, Thirty-seven and his large band of rebels hardly seemed worried.

Not until the Founder took away the Manatree’s protection. The entirety of Murkmire was open to the devastating destruction of a nearby Manastorm and the invasion of foul beasts that would normally be repelled by the Manatree’s protection.

People died. Strange illnesses spread throughout the districts. But rather than back down, Thirty-seven fought harder.

Again, he was too late.

The pitched battles became bloody and terrible but throughout it all, the rebels had more grit than the Founder anticipated. But, as Hal witnessed through Thirty-seven’s memories, the Founder was not one for half-measures.

He ripped open a swirling void of darkness in the middle of the conflict. And from it, poured hundreds of foul shadow creatures. Pandemonium broke out as people on both sides of the conflict were cut down.

The memory of Thirty-seven worked with several mages to close the rift but the damage was already done.

“I thought Murkmire would burn to the ground,” Thirty-seven said at Hal’s side as they watched the swirling rift close up. “It seemed like Rinbast was willing to destroy everything just to make an example. I tried to speak to him. To send messengers but he killed them and sent back devious traps in my animated letters. I do not know what darkness took root in his heart but this was not the man I once knew.

“Watch,” Thirty-seven said, pointing. Hal followed his direction to a high building far out of the Gilded District – now named the Coffin District.

A blurring wave of mana rippled through every Ring of Murkmire. The familiar safety of the Manatree’s presence returned, flooding back into Murkmire except for the Gilded District.

It rolled around the ruined businesses and torn-up streets, leaving the shadows penned in with the rebels. The presence of guards doubled at any and every exit.

Hal noticed each of the shadows looked different. They lacked the chains and the strange stone masks that were bound to their heads.

He brought out one such [Strange Mask] he received as a drop from one of the creatures and showed it to Thirty-seven. “When I encountered them, they all wore these.”

The ghostly form of Thirty-seven looked at it and smiled. “Rinbast underestimated us. Not by much, though. Plenty of shadows were destroyed but more, by far, were chained. In the years since I was trained by Rinbast, I picked up a great many skills.

“One of them was Runic Inscription, the streets were rife with broken chunks of stone and my protective Paladin spells could keep the shadows at bay long enough to place the inscribed stones onto them. Binding them to my will.”

“So you placed all those masks onto the shadows?”

“I had help, but yes. They served as valuable guards. While they couldn’t leave the Gilded District, neither could Rinbast’s people charge in. We were at a stalemate. And if Rinbast opened another rift, I could bind those creatures as well.”

Hal furrowed his brow. “Why didn’t you just Dominate them?”

Thirty-seven looked at him incredulously. “What is that?”

“It’s a Founder’s Sigil, it lets you control creatures.”

“That’s not like any Founder’s Sigil I know. I thought Rinbast found most of the sigils,” Thirty-seven looked curiously at Hal a moment. “How did you learn it?”

Hal shrugged. “It just came to me, in the same way when I used Rend.”

“I have never heard of that either,” Thirty-seven muttered, deep in thought.

“I figured all of you would have a host of that kind of magic,” Hal said. “They seemed basic.”

Thirty-seven shook his head. “That’s not how Founder Sigils work. Once one is discovered all others of that bloodline are restricted from that Sigil’s use. Normally that would keep a family from all having the same Sigils but seeing as we are technically family….” He shrugged his large shoulders.

Hal let that sink in, a grin blossoming on his face. “I’m the only one who can Dominate other creatures?”

“Any Sigil you gain is unique to you… until you die,” he conceded. “I had a Balesian Codex that Millie smuggled for me just before things got really bad. If you could find it, it would help you gain new Founder Sigils.”

“Do you mean this?” Hal asked, taking out the [Unknown Codex].

“Yes! Where did you…” Thirty-seven’s face fell. “Giel… I should have known he wouldn’t forget. That boy had a mind like a steel trap. What you hold in your hands is an ancient Balesian Codex. It predates… just about everything.

“I don’t know the particulars, I only knew that Rinbast was after them. And that if you study it, you can gain new Founder Sigils. Unless they’re gone, I managed to learn 3 Sigils from the pages that have a crease in the corner.”

Hal flipped the pages until he found what Thirty-seven was talking about. “I see it.” The page was filled with glittering Sigils. According to Thirty-seven, that meant that each of them were ripe for the taking. “This has just become my most important object.”

When he looked back at the book, he mentally noted the pages Thirty-seven suggested to him and put it away. The [Unknown Codex] had updated itself to reflect its true name, becoming a [Balesian Codex].

“You don’t know the half of it,” Thirty-seven said with a grin. “If you can, study it every night. Each Sigil you learn is one more weapon you remove from Rinbast’s arsenal.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Seeing how strong Dominate was… it’s honestly a relief to know that nobody else has it,” Hal said, further explaining the feats he managed with it so far.

Thirty-seven could only shake his head in wonder.

83

“If I had Dominate at my disposal, things would have swiftly changed,” Thirty-seven said. “But as they were, I held my own fairly well. To think that such a terrifying Sigil exists….” His ghostly form shivered. “The thought of what Rinbast would do with the power of that Sigil unnerves me. He would have crushed us all or worse, enslaved us.”

Watching the memory of Thirty-seven fight, veiled in holy light as he rescued those around him, was awe-inspiring. Thirty-seven was powerful and built like a tank. He saved people from certain doom and brought them back from the brink of death.

He was literally a knight in shining armor.

With the shadows at their backs, Thirty-seven’s rebels could strike and retreat knowing that the guards wouldn’t dare cross the Manatree’s barrier and tempt the savage shadows that could appear from anywhere.

The Founder was losing, or so it seemed.

What guards he could bring in were too far away from Murkmire to arrive with any speed. And those that he pressed into service were just as likely to run through the barrier, hands raised in surrender to bolster Thirty-seven’s cause.

Desertion was one of the greatest tools that the proud Paladin used to great effect. “With the threat of the shadows turned against Rinbast by my own hand, his soldiers couldn’t do much to those fleeing through the barrier. If they chased them, they were just as likely to be ripped apart as to catch the deserter. A gamble most wouldn’t take.”

And so the rebels grew while Rinbast’s soldiers dwindled.

With a great sigh, the memory shifted again to the dark of night. Thirty-seven hung his head. “If you learn anything from this, Hal, understand that Rinbast is not to be trifled with. He will capitalize on your weaknesses, especially your hope and your mercy. You must learn to act swiftly and with full force. That was my greatest mistake; thinking he could be reasoned with.

“I never intended to topple Rinbast. If I had, I truly think I stood a good chance of succeeding. But I still remembered the kindly man that helped me. The man that wanted a bright future for this land. That man was dead and I confused him for the one currently wearing his face like a mask.”

Hal saw it clearly in each of the memories. Thirty-seven had a force equal if not outnumbering Rinbast’s.

If Thirty-seven broke out and toppled the Founder and the merchants that plagued the city, Murkmire might be a haven of freedom. Hal might have come to know a world much different than the one he found himself in.

It was that failure to act, that willingness to give Rinbast a way out, to possibly compromise, that ultimately doomed Thirty-seven.

“It came in the middle of the night,” Thirty-seven said softly, bringing Hal from his thoughts.

Around them, the memory of Murkmire groaned and shuddered like the mountain was going to crumble beneath their feet. The streets bucked and cracked, buildings collapsed, windows shattered.

“We thought he was going to bring the mountain down upon us, bury the whole of Murkmire and erase it from existence.” Thirty-seven looked up into the night sky. “Maybe that would have been preferable to the evil he unleashed.”

His memories flickered and reformed, showing grisly scenes of loved ones and life-long friends dead by each other’s hand. Rampaging, rambling soldiers cutting down their own friends. The next one was just as horrible as the last.

“I do not know what the Founder tried to do precisely, only the effect. This thing could inhabit a person’s body with nothing more than a touch. No man nor woman could resist its all-consuming evil.

“It goes by the name Shae’kathoth. It leaped from person to person, killing and rampaging. Growing in strength and knowledge as it stripped all thought from those it controlled. There was no way to tell friend from foe or where it might strike next before it was too late.”

Thirty-seven shook his head mournfully. “I realized then that I should have struck out against Rinbast sooner and I nearly committed to doing just that. And in doing so, almost doomed us all.”

Thirty-seven’s memory shifted to a place Hal remembered. The barracks beneath Murkmire, the countless rooms that could have held an army comfortably. Thirty-seven stalked the blood-stained footprints of a killer.

He caught the culprit, a young girl no older than sixteen or seventeen with a bloodied dagger in her hand and coal-black eyes with no pupils or whites. Hal and the ghost of Thirty-seven trailed behind a few feet.

“Had I broken through and forced the fighting into the streets of Murkmire, the monster would have gotten free. Murkmire would be a ghost town. It would have consumed every living thing in its path and left only piles of ash.” Thirty-seven motioned to the scene.

The memory of Thirty-seven tried to reason with the girl, to speak to it but the creature stretched its mouth unnaturally wide and lunged at the Paladin. A shield slam and a sword thrust – purely on reflex – doomed the creature. It staggered back and the girl’s body turned to a pile of ash.

Shadow made material stood in her place, fuzzy and indistinct but in the vague shape of a tall and disturbingly thin man with arms far too long to be human.

“Looks a little like Slenderman,” Hal remarked.

Thirty-seven looked at him. “You know, that bothered me for the longest time. I knew he looked familiar but couldn’t place it. You start to forget pop culture like that after a while here.” He rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “I realized then that Shae’kathoth was the bigger threat.”

The memory of Thirty-seven lashed out but Shae’kathoth was too quick. Its long and slender arms whipped out to attack but the Paladin bashed one aside and used his shining blade to push the other harmlessly wide.

They fought in the tunnels for a long while. Holy blasts of mana rocking the ground, breaking the hardened stone with its deep warding grooves. It was clear that the creature was too powerful to be put down easily.

With Thirty-seven’s armor, the creature had a difficult time making contact with his skin. Something that Thirty-seven was keen to prevent at all costs. It was that wary style of fighting that made Shae’kathoth so difficult an enemy.

“I might have killed it,” Thirty-seven said, watching the fight with Hal. His memory chased it down a corner and the thing ran headlong into an older woman, immediately consuming her and taking her form. “But at what cost? And how likely would it be that a single misstep would cause it to flee through the Manatree’s barrier and beyond? A single mistake, the slightest touch on my skin and it would take my body and my powers for its own.”

Hal saw the logic but still balked at where he was going with it. “But they trusted you. They were following you, hoping you would lead them through the conflict.”

Thirty-seven wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

A wave of his hand brought them back to reality, to the chill fetid air and Thirty-seven’s corpse. “The freedom of the few was worth less than the lives of the many. And so, I doomed the rebellion to seal Shae’kathoth within the roots of the Manatree you see before you.”

Hal followed his gaze to the dark, oil-slick roots that steadily dripped the unctuous mixture into the pool below. The Manaseed within him trembled at the sight.

To Hal, it looked sickly but through his connection to the Manaseed, he was aware of just how profane and grisly the scene was.

“Nobody knows, do they?” Thirty-seven asked, “About what really happened, I mean. If any of the rebels managed to make it out, I don’t doubt that they were given the choice of backing Rinbast’s tale or dying. If they were even let out.”

“I don’t know for sure,” Hal said. “People talk about it like it’s some horrible ghost story, a tragedy that happened but not some failed revolution. It was a terrible event. One that Rinbast swooped in and fixed but not before a great many lives were lost.

“He erected a powerful barrier and ordered the mason’s guild to seal up the entire district, which is how it got its new name, the Coffin District. If it’s any consolation, Giel remembered. I wouldn’t be here without him.”

“I’m glad I could tell at least one person,” Thirty-seven said, looking suddenly more indistinct.

“How did you seal Shae’kathoth?”

“One of my Founder Sigil’s was Seal. Fairly self-explanatory. I freed the woman whose body it had taken and used Barrier to jail the thing until I could drag it to the roots of the Manatree, far from any prying eyes.” Thirty-seven looked up at the roots. “Each of those Sigils you will find in the pages I pointed out.”

“At first, I thought to bind it within myself and die down at the deepest levels of this place. It would serve Rinbast right if he came here only to find that thing waiting for him.

“But in the end, I feared what would happen. That it would take control of me and do horrible, unspeakable things with the strength I commanded. And finding what I assumed was Shae’kathoth’s entry into this world-” He motioned to the huge black gate. “It felt fitting to bind him here.”

“Right on the doorstep, nice touch,” Hal said.

“I thought it would be poetic.”

“How….” Hal started to say but Thirty-seven understood what he wanted to ask and raised a hand to stop him.

“I guess the story wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t tell you how I died. Have you ever tried to use a Founder Sigil without the Experience to fund it?” Thirty-seven asked him.

Hal shook his head. He always had some EXP and after he found out that they used it, he wasn’t crazy enough to try without a buffer.

“If you continue to channel a Founder Sigil without the Experience, it will kill you. But the interesting thing? It will continue to work after your death.” He motioned to his body and the roots nearby.

“It would seem the soul contains a great deal of strength comparable to that of Experience. The magic still holds Shae’kathoth at bay but-”

“It’s consuming you,” Hal finished for him. “Just how much Experience is a soul like yours worth? Eventually, it has to run out. It’s already been twenty years.”

Thirty-seven whistled. “That long huh? You’re right, though. I don’t know how much longer the Sigil will continue to run. Maybe a year, maybe weeks. Or it could be another decade for all I know. But eventually, it will fail.”

The ethereal man gave him a knowing, pained look. “Now the torch passes to you, brother. It is time for you to make a choice.”

84

“Why me?” Hal asked before he could stop the words.

Thirty-seven shrugged and looked around. “In all this time no other of our kin have come here. I would have willingly given this burden to one of them but you are the only one to show. And so, I’m afraid, it must fall to you.”

Hal looked at the pool of oil then back at Thirty-seven. “How can I defeat it? I’m nowhere near as strong as you. And even you admitted you couldn’t be sure you would defeat it before it escaped and did something worse.”

“You’re right,” the ghost said. “I have used every ounce of my strength to reduce Shae’kathoth but even still, it is a powerful being.” As if the punctuate his point, the pool of oil bubbled ominously. “You could leave me here, I would not begrudge you that. I might keep Shae’kathoth caged for a number of years yet. But eventually….”

“It’ll break free,” Hal said again.

“And when it does, it will have a powerful host at its beck and call.”

It was disturbingly similar to the Beast taking control and breaking free of Hal’s control.

“But without Shae’kathoth’s removal, the Manatree will never fully heal. Your goal to restore the Manatree’s protection is impossible while the tree bears the festering boil,” Thirty-seven said. “The Manatree is a force of good, no matter how Rinbast has warped it. It will heal the wound in time. There may even be a way to speed its recovery but I do not know it.”

Hal pinched the bridge of his nose, digesting everything Thirty-seven told him. “So, what you’re saying is I can release you from holding Shae’kathoth but then I’ll have to either take your place or find a way to kill it. Otherwise… everything I set out to do here is for nothing.

“The Manatree cannot be healed without Shae’kathoth’s death which means even if I find a way to kill every monster here, more will come without the protection of the Manatree. That about right?”

Thirty-seven gave him a curt nod. “Unfortunately.”

“And even if I were to leave,” Hal said, swinging his arm wide to accentuate his point. “It wouldn’t matter. Eventually, that thing will break free, and then it’s out anyway. And then… what happens to you? Your soul?”

The look Thirty-seven gave him spoke volumes.

Hal clenched his jaw. Would he be so calm in Thirty-seven’s situation? The man wasn’t talking about his life – which he already willingly sacrificed – but his very soul.

Even if the ghost of Thirty-seven didn’t prove there was a heaven or hell, it surely meant there was an existence of some kind after death. And Thirty-seven was once again willing to throw it away.

Hal scowled, feeling a wave of irrational anger building in his chest. “Why? What does it matter if these people die? All the people you knew died thinking you were a coward at best and at worst a traitor.

“Nobody even speaks of you, you were erased! Why do you care what happens to these people? You could go on to whatever is beyond this life and leave these people to their own troubles. You owe them nothing.”

If he didn’t understand the man as he understood himself, the smile Thirty-seven gave him would have felt patronizing. “You know I can’t do that. Just like we couldn’t let Simon Lassiter and his group of bullies abuse that poor puppy they found at the railroad tracks.”

The memory flashed bright and painful in his mind, forcing Hal to do an emotional 180. His anger guttered out and was replaced by cold sorrow. “That happened to you too?”

Thirty-seven nodded. “I don’t think Rinbast brought anybody over that was too different from him. And that was a turning point in our lives.” He held his arms out wide, palms upturned.

“Each of us learned a valuable lesson that day,” Thirty-seven continued. “Some of us were incensed by the injustice of it, and fought harder.” He lifted his left hand up. “Others let it shade their vision in cynicism. The world was cruel and there was nothing they could do.” He lifted his right hand.

“Those like you and me,” Thirty-seven said with a warm smile. “It made us stronger. We stood up for the little guy even after the beating we got. It turned us into the men we would become.”

Hal’s answering smile was forced but Thirty-seven, looking into his own past, didn’t notice.

That wasn’t how Hal remembered it.

Sure, he had saved the puppy from getting its tail cut off and worse by the little psychopaths but he was badly beaten for it. And then every day after school he would have to sprint home or face another beating.

The bullying itself continued for years in one form or another even after he learned how to defend himself.

Nobody stood up for him then. He had done the right thing, so why didn’t anybody do the right thing for him?

He did indeed learn a valuable lesson that day. One that shaped him into the man he was. But it was not the man Thirty-seven was. Hal could guess easily enough that there was one other Hal that had his same experience.

Great, Rinbast and I share a friggin’ villain origin story, Hal thought sourly, trying to use sarcasm to deflect the gut-wrenching realization that he was closer to Rinbast than this knightly hero that stood before him.

The man he wished he could be, if only a little less optimistic and gullible.

Thirty-seven looked back to the oily pool. “In the end, I chose the safety of the many over the freedom of the few. Maybe I was wrong.” He rolled his large shoulders in another shrug. “I doubt I will ever know. The world is dark enough as it is without another evil in it and I stand by my decision.”

What would Rinbast do? For that matter, what would Hal have done if he never met Elora, Ashera, Giel, or Mira? If Yesel hadn’t talked to him those nights by the campfire, or Altres hadn’t included Hal in his friendly teasing?

He would run. With death being permanent and without a Manatree of his own to prevent it, he would have fled.

But that very same Hal wouldn’t have risked his life to help Ashera break free of her servitude or save Mira, he reminded himself. Those acts proved he was different than the Founder, didn’t it?

Different than the man he thought he was.

“The choice is yours,” Thirty-seven said. “Shae’kathoth will be weakened when first released. But even weakened he will be formidable. It will be your best chance to destroy him, however.”

Hal looked over at Noth. She looked bored as usual but kept her gaze elsewhere. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t ask either of them for help deciding.

This was his decision.

There were so many reasons not to do it. Good, solid reasons. He could go get that Manaseed, create a Sanctum, and come back once he was stronger and wouldn’t die.

Lots of reasons to put it off. It was the smart call. “How do I release Shae’kathoth?”

Idiot. Hal wasn’t sure if that was Besal or himself.

Thirty-seven didn’t bother to ask if he was sure or to dissuade him. If he had, Hal was fairly certain he would have lost the nerve. He pulled the [Goblinbane] from its sheath. Golden runes lit up along its edge.

“Is that your weapon?” Thirty-seven asked.

“Only one I got.”

The man motioned to his corpse. “You might as well loot me, it’s not doing me any good. I doubt the armor or shield is much use to you but I have some Chains of Binding and my blade, Brilliance is yours to command.”

Hal bent to the task as Thirty-seven explained what he had learned of Shae’kathoth in his battle with the creature and the subsequent years as its jailer.

You obtain:

- [Brilliance]
- [Aevista]
- [Chain of Binding]
- [Valiant Coronet]
- [Valiant Surcoat]
- [Valiant Gauntlets]
- [Valiant Breeches]
- [Valiant Leggings]
- [Valiant Cape]
- [Valiant Collar]
- [Valiant Earring]
- [Valiant Baudrier]
- [Bomb Ring]
- [Lunette Ring]
- [Creed Earring]
- 4,500 [Sparks]

Hal’s eyes bulged at all of the loot Thirty-seven had on him. So much in fact that Hal didn’t know if he would have space for it all. He was already at 30 out of 45 slots. Luckily, sparks didn’t take up any slots but that still meant with all of this loot he was.

Looking at the [Chain of Binding], it seemed to be an actual item used for binding powerful creatures for a short time. He swapped his [Length of Void Chain] for it since the [Chain of Binding] was a solid upgrade. Its damage was nearly the same, but it possessed an interesting binding enchantment. One he could enact at will.

Thirty-seven was right about the armor. All of it was not only heavy armor but Paladin-restricted. Most of the gear was far beyond his Level. The [Bomb Ring] was Level 32 and like most of the gear, was built for a tank, not somebody like Hal.

Only the [Lunette Ring] and [Brilliance] were low enough for Hal to equip anytime soon and both were still well above his Level. The [Lunette Ring] was Level 28 and [Brilliance] was Level 30.

It felt like a cruel joke, all this great gear in front of him and he couldn’t wear a single piece of it. The greatest loss of all was [Brilliance].

It was a masterfully crafted sword - even Hal could see that - with quillions shaped into windswept feathery wings. A large ruby was set in the pommel and a sapphire was set in the center of the crossguard.

Its blade was straight and double-edged unlike the single-edge of Hal’s falchion. And down the flat of the blade was a strip of golden metal that ran from the hilt to the tip.

Hal tried to lift it but could barely keep the tip of the blade level. He cut it through the air like a child playing with a sword much too big and heavy. Each swing took a chunk of his already depleted SP. It was inelegant and clumsy. While he could technically wield it, even though he didn’t meet the Level requirement, there was no way he would be able to put it to good use.

“That’s a one-handed sword,” Thirty-seven said with a bit of mirth, noting Hal’s struggle.

Hal shot a glare back his way. “I can read. But I can’t lift it otherwise.” He put it away into his inventory and pulled out [Goblinbane], noticing how much lighter and comfortable it felt in his hand. He twirled the blade by rolling his wrist, eager to show Thirty-seven that he could handle a sword.

The ghost watched him momentarily. “At least I know they’ll be of some use to you when you Level Up a bit. Better than having them rot down here.”

85

“Wait,” Hal said, holding up a hand. What Thirty-seven said about Leveling Up gave him an idea. With the sparks he just received, Hal had more than enough to raise his Enfeebling Magic to Level 10.

Considering how effective it was on the Shoggoth, getting it to Level 10 seemed prudent.

Thirty-seven’s ghost looked at him curiously for a moment then nodded. “Take all the time you need to prepare yourself,” he said.

Hal thought back to just a couple of days ago or so when he was surprised at getting 100 free sparks. How quickly that had worn off after he began to tally how much money a small town might need to sustain itself. The supplies alone would be astronomical.

And that didn’t even come close to the added “tax” he was sure to pay considering his need for not only secrecy but also the black market sources they would need to go through.

He sincerely doubted that any legitimate supplier would have the items he’d need without asking for some sort of writ or whatever stood for a sanctioned order in this world.

While Hal’s group could likely harvest the local resources, there were some things that they would need in bulk if they had any hope of creating a decent settlement. Steel tools, firebricks, mortar, and a host of other items that the local region might not even possess.

This wasn’t a game where he could make wooden axes and picks to mine stone, then upgrade those items to stone to mine iron ore, and so on until he was finally able to make a decent tool.

And even if he could do that – as ridiculous as it would be – why bother when he could have proper tools from the outset?

All of that required money, sparks specifically. Unfortunately, he had no frame of reference as to the value of a single spark. A single steel axe might be 20 sparks, or it could be 100.

While that may not be a lot for a single item, every item was going to be like that. That difference of 50 sparks would quickly add up when they were dealing with dozens upon dozens of items. Every spark he spent now was a gamble against the future.

A future I might not experience if I don’t spend enough sparks in order to strengthen myself for this fight.

It was the most annoying conundrum. Just like holding onto a potion past when you obviously need it because, “what if there’s an even worse boss later in the game that I’ll need this at?” And then you just end up beating the game with thirty unused potions.

If this wasn’t the equivalent of a boss fight, Hal didn’t know what was. He would strike a balance and upgrade Enfeebling but nothing else. Unlike Thirty-seven, he wasn’t exactly afraid of Shae’kathoth touching him. He had a feeling that the body-stealing creature wouldn’t be welcomed by the Beast.

Despite that, it was a theory Hal wasn’t keen on testing. The potential loss, if he was wrong, was too great to risk it. It was like leaping out of a plane without making sure what he grabbed was a parachute. And increasing his Enfeebling would let him use both Enchainment and Bloodrake at a higher efficacy.

Investing the sparks gave him a rush of euphoria typically associated with skill Level Ups. His notifications rolled past.

Your Enfeebling Magic has risen to Level 7.

…

Your Enfeebling Magic has risen to Level 10.

+1% Enfeebling success (+10%).

+2% Enfeebling duration (+20%).

+5% Enfeebling magic resistance (+10%).

You have 1 Enfeebling Perk awaiting assignment.

Nemesis 0/1

Deal 15% extra damage to the last creature you’ve enfeebled.

Dream Thief 0/1

Take the dreams of the sleeping, empowering your next enfeebling spell by 50%.

Shatter 0/3

Enfeebling spells apply a 10% MDEF reduction.

Lv1: 10% MDEF reduction.

Lv2: 15% MDEF reduction.

Lv3: 25% MDEF reduction.

Dream Thief did nothing for him, he had no spells that put somebody to sleep. Nemesis was tempting but so was Shatter. The former would do more damage if the description wasn’t misleading.

But Shatter would deal more damage overall if he was in a party with other magic users. While Nemesis wasn’t constrained to only magic, it had a single Level.

He could either choose to boost his own damage or increase everybody’s magic damage.

How many more bosses and battles might he have in his future? How many more times might his friends need his help? If he had been able to weaken the Shoggoth to magic with Enchainment and Bloodrake, maybe the battle would have gone differently.

Hal looked up at Thirty-seven, he stood patiently with arms crossed over his chest. Hal wanted to ask him what he thought but he knew the answer before the words formed in his mind.

Thirty-seven was a Paladin. He’d choose the perk that helped the most people. He would choose Shatter. And if Hal wanted to separate himself from Rinbast, he knew that was the right choice as well. Especially since his first reaction was to take Nemesis.

He took Shatter, feeling the effect wash over him and knowing with iron-clad certainty that each spell would weaken his foe magically. With Level 10 Enfeebling Magic, Hal also had a better grip on how to utilize his spells better.

Increasing skill was more than raw damage or the perks they gained, it was like downloading more information about the subject directly into his brain. A single Level allowed him to operate the skill with a higher degree of familiarity and awareness that numbers simply couldn’t convey.

The methods of his magic were clearer to him and he could already look back over the Shoggoth fight and see where he had improperly used his spells. Most importantly, he understood how he was able to summon Bloodrake and channel into the spell to rip the Shoggoth apart.

There was no way he could do that now. That was largely due to the empowering nature of the Elysian Surge he was under. But, he understood the underlying mechanics. And that was important.

While he lacked the power to rip Shae’kathoth in half, he could alter the spell and tie up one limb or another and move it around like a doll’s. Though the MP cost would be significantly higher.

Strain was going to be a problem though. Despite the increased HP, MP, and SP the Old One’s Blight effect gave him, the Strain increase was monumental. He already had 3 points of Strain and he hadn’t done anything yet.

Hal summoned the [Chain of Binding], wrapping it around his left wrist and gripping the chain. He nodded. “I’m ready.”

Thirty-seven took a step toward Hal, still wearing his armor even if his body was in a simple shirt and breeches. He placed a hand on Hal’s shoulder and squeezed. Hal felt the comforting gesture and nodded at the man. “Remember what I said. Do not let him touch you. He will be weak when he first awakens. Strike hard.”

“I hope you have a well-deserved rest,” Hal said. “Thank you, Hal.”

The spectral figure smiled back at him and shut his eyes. “It’ll feel good to finally rest…” Thirty-seven’s face became calm and restful. He exhaled. His body thinned and grew indistinct. An unseen wind swept over him and carried his spirit away. His body crumbled to dust.

Some of Thirty-seven’s ethereal form seeped into Hal’s shoulder, filling his resources to full and wiping away the small amount of Strain he already accumulated. He felt refreshed and ready.

Thanks, man.

Seeing Thirty-seven leave this plane of existence, Noth drifted over. She floated a foot off the ground, her wings outstretched.

Hal tore his eyes away from the pile of dust that was Thirty-seven’s body to look at the Reaper. “I know you want to stay off to the side and all but I wanted to warn you about what I’m about to face. I don’t know how much you heard about what Thirty-seven and I spoke of-”

“Nothing,” she interrupted. A raised eyebrow was the only sign that Hal had offended her. “I do not eavesdrop. I was asked to leave and I did.”

“Well, then you need to know that Shae’kathoth is an abomination that takes control of people’s bodies. Thirty-seven explained that a single touch, skin-to-skin contact is enough for it to fully corrupt and take over a person’s body.”

Hal shrugged. “I don’t know how much of that affects you, but I figured even if you didn’t help me you deserved to know. Now that you’re….” He motioned to her.

“Corporeal,” she finished for him.

“Yeah.”

Hal turned about in a slow circle, looking for any sign of Shae’kathoth’s appearance. The [Chain of Binding] had a unique property that allowed it to bind creatures to itself, making it easier to chain them up with it. Hal had other uses in mind for it.

As Hal turned about, Noth rose through the air high above. Shadesight painted her in hues of blue amid the rough cavern’s ceiling nearly a hundred feet up.

With Thirty-seven’s final gift of healing Hal and reducing his Strain down to 0, he double-checked to make sure the area effect was still active, bringing it up again.

You are afflicted with Old One’s Blight.

The aura of being so close to an antediluvian gate is corrupting the very air you breathe. Being a Beastborne, you feed on this unnatural corruption, allowing it to strengthen you while it slowly inflicts Strain upon you.

HP, SP, and MP +20%.

HP, SP, and MP recovery +50%.

Strain Accumulation +50%.

Maybe there was a benefit to not being a knight in shining armor after all.

It was unlikely that Thirty-seven or one of his kind would be receiving any buff from such an ominously named area effect. Only a Beastborne could turn something corrupting into a source of power.

The well of oil bubbled and splashed to his left. He took a careful step back as the tarry substance sloshed over the side and puddled on the floor. The black goo rippled and surged until the pool was emptied. A towering eight-foot-tall creature of incredibly thin proportions stood before Hal.

Its face was featureless and perfectly smooth save for a too-wide grin that showed rows of shark-like teeth.

Shae’kathoth looked to the pile of ash nearby, dripping oily residue the entire time. Its voice was thick and bubbly. “You have robbed me of my ticket out of here.” Its head twisted to the side unnervingly. “I suppose I will just have to take yours instead.”

Hal lashed his chain against the ground, cracking the already weakened stone. Chips went flying. “Come and get it Shay-ka-thot.”

He briefly wondered if the abomination would even get the reference. In the end, it didn’t seem to matter. Its face twisted in rage at the mere hint of mockery. It didn’t need to understand the insult to know it had been insulted in the first place.

“That is not my name!” Shae’kathoth screeched. It lunged at him with too-long arms that ended in sharpened, oily talons. “I will teach you respect before I consume your soul and wear your meat like a garment!”

He couldn’t believe how easy it was to rile the thing up.

Hal lunged back, glad for the movement buff on his [Leaping Boots], narrowly avoiding a swipe meant for his neck. His armor wouldn’t do much against those wicked talons. And if Thirty-seven was right, a single touch would corrupt him.

That wasn’t much of a concern for Hal. He tapped shadow and treant essence. But instead of making multiple shadowy limbs, he took a cue from Besal’s use of essence.

He wreathed his body in the dark immaterial substance. The cool grasp of the shadows darkened his Barkskin and he found his limbs moving faster than they normally would. Almost like an exosuit.

Every movement was quicker and stronger than it should have been. Without witnessing Besal’s use of essence, Hal would have kept to his shadow-limbs. This was so much better.

It was a vague mockery of Shadetouched. He tapped his Guild badge, dousing the room into utter darkness. Shadesight made it easy to see with varying hues of blue. In pitch darkness Hal’s Shadowy Presence kicked in, making him even harder to hit.

The edges of his shadow-limned body became blurred and indistinct like the very shadows he fought within. Another lunging strike from the off-balanced creature struck nothing but air as Hal hopped back.

With a smirk, Hal noticed a small symbol in the corner of his vision. A small counter he intuitively understood to be Patient Offense’s boost. Having dodged two attacks now, the counter read 2.

Hal quickstepped to the side, avoiding a long-limbed swipe and whipped his chain out. The tip graced the side of Shae’kathoth’s head but that was enough for the binding magic to trigger. Hal tightened his grip and yanked with all his might.

Unbalanced, the towering rail-thin creature was pulled toward him as Hal conjured Drill Branch in the space between. Shae’kathoth was pulled right into the spinning branches that whirred and hummed. He released the chain’s binding effect as Shae’kathoth neared the point of his spell.

Hal rushed forward, using the devastating spell to bull Shae’kathoth toward the far wall, tearing the creature up along the way. He realized it was risky, but it was one of his best spells to deal damage and keep the creature at bay.

More to the point, if Shae’kathoth was really as strong as Thirty-seven suggested, then Hal’s best course of action would be to overwhelm him while it was still waking up from its long imprisonment.

Oily blood splattered across the room. Hal warped the size of Drill Branch to create a makeshift shield so none of the stuff would rain upon him. The gore hit the spell and was flung far and wide, sizzling as it splashed against the stones.

You cast Drill Branch.

[Shae’kathoth] takes 71 points of damage.

Patient Offense’s effect wears off.

[Shae’kathoth] takes 52 points of damage.

[Shae’kathoth] takes 41 points of damage.

[Shae’kathoth] takes 47 points of damage.

Shae’kathoth let loose a horrible screeching wail and Hal staggered back, momentarily stunned. He dropped the spell, no longer able to concentrate.

Hal lashed behind him with his left arm. As soon as the chain cracked against the stone he triggered its binding effect, simultaneously pulling with his arm and pushing with his legs as hard as he could.

The creature’s lanky claws swept through the air. Mere inches from Hal’s retreating form. Hal overshot the mark and tugged hard on the chain to halt his momentum, then with a thought he released the binding enchantment.

This chain is great.

Hal looked to the side, noticing Noth was making her way above and behind Shae’kathoth. He was about to ask if she was going to continue being a witness or actually help him but the question seemed moot.

If she was going to help him, bringing attention to her wasn’t going to do the Reaper any favors. And if she wasn’t intending on helping him, he doubted there was anything he could say to change her mind.

Shae’kathoth lashed out with his disturbingly long arms. They stretched like black taffy. Two swipes came at opposing angles. Hal ducked under one and used his [Chain of Binding] to lash the stone and pull himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the next attack.

So far he was able to stay ahead of the creature. He may even be able to defeat him on his own. Edge of Disaster was making each of his attacks and movements faster with each point of Strain he incurred. And Patient Offense was giving his spells some much-needed power so long as he managed to meter his attacks.

With Edge of Disaster, the shadows wrapped along his limbs, and the flat 10% boost of his [Leaping Boots], Hal was moving faster than ever before.

Faster even than the Beast.

As his familiarity with his essence-enhanced exosuit grew, so too did his speed and prowess. There was a fluidity to his motion that belied his meager 14 points of AGI.

Using his shadow essence as he did had a bit of a learning curve. He had to match the mental commands of both his limbs and the essence simultaneously. If he sprang from his legs and then pushed with his essence a moment later, the effect was greatly diminished.

And as his essence “muscles” were so much weaker than his actual body, if he pushed with those first, he might not get out of the way in time. It was a delicate dance but one he was quickly learning the steps to.

Each dodge came easier than the last, Shae’kathoth was fast but Hal was faster and as he lobbed out a Bomb Toss that consumed the creature in a brilliant conflagration, he became even faster.

He taunted the creature with every breath. Baiting Shae’kathoth to recklessness as he unleashed one wild attack after the other trying to hit the quick Beastborne.

All to no avail.

Hal egged him on with everything from childish insults to crass name-calling. Shae’kathoth went into a blind rage, long sweeping arms tried to catch Hal mid-hop but always he was able to lash his chain to the stones and pull himself out of danger.

The [Chain of Binding] allowed Hal to almost immediately arrest his momentum and shift it to a direction that was impossible for Shae’kathoth to predict. And all the while, Hal’s Patient Offense was racking up the points.

When Hal hit Shae’kathoth again, it was in for a world of hurt. And Hal knew just the spell to use.

86

Shae’kathoth swung his clawed hand in a downward strike, Hal lashed behind himself to the stone steps meaning to pull himself harmlessly out of the way. As soon as he heard the familiar metallic clink of metal on stone, he enacted the magic that would bind the chain to the stone as if it were fused.

Unfortunately, the stone steps near the bottom of the room where they fought were pitted and weakened from the corrupting air. Hal soon discovered his mistake when his shadow-enhanced tug only succeeded in bringing a fist-sized chunk of stone sailing his way.

The chain bound itself to the stone just fine but that stone was weak and it only took one tug to break free a section of the step. Hal hastily scrambled to the side. Shae’kathoth’s claws swept so close to Hal’s face he could feel the breeze across his cheek.

Hal’s chain came in over Shae’kathoth’s strike and nearly slammed the creature square in the face. With a frantic tug, Hal pulled the chain back. Much to the confusion of Shae’kathoth.

His Patient Offense had stacked up to a ridiculous 14 points. He didn’t want to waste the attack on a weak chain strike.

As Hal pulled back on the chain, he conjured Goblin Rush. By far his strongest spell, though it only worked close range. Right where he was at the moment.

Determined to turn a mistake into a success, Hal’s magic lunged forward in the frantic shadowy swipes of a goblin’s mad rushing attack. Each swipe of the magical echo bit deeply into Shae’kathoth, splattering its oily essence across the battle arena.

Hal’s eyes bugged out at the damage the first Goblin Rush did. A whopping 316 points of damage racked up on the abomination as all those stacks of Patient Offense were let loose in a single spell.

Shae’kathoth was looking more than a little ragged already. And a good thing too, because Hal was already feeling the twisting sensation of his rising Strain.

Not willing to let up, Hal spat out a black gobbet of Blinding Spit, followed by two more Goblin Rushes, each hitting the lanky monstrosity after the flashy explosion that blinded it. Shae’kathoth swung its arms wide like reaping scythes, harvesting nothing but air.

Strain Affliction Lv.1 (Taxed).

You have taxed your body beyond normal limitations. Channeling Beast Magic has its costs and each use of the magic warps your body in new and unforeseen ways. Using Beast Magic beyond this point risks more than your health.

Beast Magic Efficacy +20% | Beast Magic Damage +20%

MP Cost +10% | Strain Accumulation +15%

Noth twirled her scythe in the air and came down with a devastating slice, splitting Shae’kathoth’s weakened form right down the middle. It wobbled awkwardly for a moment before collapsing into two halves.

Hal stared at the body nonplussed. Was it really that easy?

He remained on guard though.

“Stay back, Noth,” he warned. This was the time when the villain would usually feign death then leap up at the last moment to throw some wild hail mary that would succeed only because the hero was stupid enough to relax and congratulate themselves.

Noth rose back up into the air, out of reach, her scythe held at the ready.

When it seemed neither of them would fall for the ploy, the two halves inched across the floor and with ropy, tarry tendrils, pulled themselves back together. Noth was on it in a heartbeat, sweeping her black scythe across the creature’s middle, severing it in half again.

Hal held out his hand toward the creature. He might not have the strength to rip Shae’kathoth in half like he did the Shoggoth… but if Shae’kathoth was already ripped in half, well that was another story.

Barbed spectral chains rose up like hellish torture devices. One set of chains pulled the lump of tarry darkness to the right, and another summoned set pulled it to the left. The chains tightened and bit into Shae’kathoth as Noth floated above, waiting patiently for her opportunity to attack.

Hal was blowing through his bolstered MP but Shae’kathoth was taking a beating it probably never expected to be on the receiving end of. He still had 178 MP to use, and he was only at the first Level of Strain Affliction. With the one-sided fight, Hal began to doubt Thirty-seven’s claims of Shae’kathoth’s powers.

That quickly changed as a long oily appendage lanced out from between the biting chains. Straight at Noth. The Reaper parried with her scythe but Shae’kathoth anticipated her reaction. It wrapped around the black metal weapon and tugged.

“Don’t let it touch you!” Hal cried out, already tightening the barbed chains, hoping to hurt it enough that it would let go.

No such luck.

While she was distracted, the other half of Shae’kathoth reached out with stretching limbs. One grabbed her armored shin, but the other hit her bare cheek.

That tiny slap should have been inconsequential. There was no power behind the blow, but that wasn’t the point of it.

Time seemed to stand still.

Hal stared at the scene wondering what he could possibly do. Would Shae’kathoth be able to take control of a Reaper made material?

Black veins crawled up Noth’s cheek. It took less than a second but that was all the time Shae’kathoth needed. In an instant, the oily mass of the creature was drawn out of its barbed prisons and into the Reaper.

Noth screamed and fell to the ground in a heap.

Hal stood, dismissing the spells and lifting his sword, ready for whatever might come.

The Reaper’s eyes opened, her golden gaze settling on Hal. A wave of relief washed over him until he noticed the darkness gathering at the edges of her eyes. It came on slowly, like droplets of ink in a glass of water. Swirls of dark threaded through the whites of her eyes, until there was nothing but darkness.

“Fight it, Noth!” Hal shouted to her.

“I can’t,” she said in a voice so quiet Hal barely heard her.

The golden irises slowly faded as the darkness claimed her. She rose to her full height, no longer Noth. Shae’kathoth laughed, warping Noth’s voice into something bubbly and wrong.

“This body will do,” Shae’kathoth said, flexing Noth’s fingers and giving her scythe a few awkward practice swings.

Hal wasn’t sure what to do. And Shae’kathoth had no intention of giving him the time to come up with a strategy.

Using Noth’s body, Shae’kathoth lunged forward at Hal. He backpedaled up a few sets of stairs trying to gain the high ground. A great swipe of her scythe ripped a long tear in his tattered aketon and just barely scratched him as he hopped up two more steps, avoiding a more dangerous cut.

[Shae’kathoth-Noth] hits you for 0 points of damage.

Your Barkskin absorbs 7 points of damage.

Shae’kathoth came on again, unwilling to let up for even a second. Hal sent another Blinding Spit at the creature but received a gash on his left arm as payment for the casting.

You cast Blinding Spit.

[Shae’kathoth-Noth] takes 44 points of damage.

Additional Effect: Blindness, Enmity Up.

[Shae’kathoth-Noth] hits you for 37 points of damage.

Additional Effect: Reaping Sickness (Halted Regeneration).

Your Barkskin absorbs 7 points of damage.

Your Barkskin effect fades.

Hal winced at the wound. In one strike his enhanced regeneration was completely nullified. It didn’t trigger on the first strike and that could only be because Barkskin had prevented him from taking any damage.

Already Barkskin was showing its worth. Pairing it with an evasive build would mean what little he did get hit wouldn’t hurt much.

If he could avoid getting hit for a few minutes, it would regenerate to full. But he somehow doubted the fight would last that long.

In Noth’s body, Shae’kathoth was several times faster and stronger. Every second it grew more familiar with Noth’s particular makeup and her skillset. Hal didn’t know if the Reaper had any magic and at that moment, he sincerely hoped all Noth had at her disposal was that wicked scythe.

As Shae’kathoth stopped chasing Hal and spread its arm’s wide, Hal knew he was about to see Noth’s spells up close and personal.

[Shae’kathoth-Noth] begins casting Call of the Grave.

Hal stepped back. What the heck is “Call of the Grave?”

His question was answered a moment later. A large glowing pool of orange light illuminated the center of the chamber, triggering Hal’s Premonition.

A deep black pit of impenetrable shadow formed at the center of the room between Hal and Shae’kathoth. Long shadowy limbs slowly reached out toward Hal. Every step felt laborious and his movements were sluggish.

[Shae’kathoth-Noth] casts Call of the Grave.

You suffer the effect of Slow.

Worse of all, Shae’kathoth was no longer casting.

Oh, that’s not fair. Noth has a spell she doesn’t need to actively channel?

Shae’kathoth charged with renewed vigor. Left, right, left went the slashing scythe. Hal was hit by each as his improved speed was negated by Call of the Grave. Each of Shae’kathoth’s strikes was more devastating than the last. Even though the reaching shadowy hands hadn’t caught him, their slowing effect was potent.

[Shae’kathoth-Noth] hits you for 49 points of damage.

Additional Effect: Reaping Sickness II (+15% Damage Taken)

[Shae’kathoth-Noth] hits you for 57 points of damage.

Additional Effect: Reaping Sickness III (+25% Damage Taken)

[Shae’kathoth-Noth] hits you for 63 points of damage.

Additional Effect: Reaping Sickness IV (+35% Damage Taken)

He couldn’t take many more hits like that. In a short burst, he was already down about half of his HP. Once again he was glad to have invested in VIT.

Hal snapped out with the chain, connecting solidly with the scythe. He set his feet and wrenched on the chain with all his shadow-infused muscles could bring to bear.

The scythe flew from Noth’s possessed fingers. Shae’kathoth let loose a terrible wail that Noth’s voice could never have made.

[Shae’kathoth-Noth] uses Disconcerting Wail.

You are Stunned.

Caught mid-tug, Hal’s muscles seized up and refused to heed his frantic commands. The scythe arced through the air above Hal’s head and clanged several feet behind him, still attached to the chain.

87

Stunned as he was, he was powerless to stop Shae’kathoth from killing him. But the creature hardly regarded him as a threat at that point. “I think I will take this body for my own,” Shae’kathoth said, warping Noth’s voice. “It bested you easily and I am so curious to find out what a Reaper can do.”

The grasping hands of Shae’kathoth’s spell finally reached Hal at the moment the creature stepped past Hal and picked up the scythe.

As soon as he had control of his muscles again, Hal jerked on the chain, yanking the sharp cutting blade of the scythe up and across Shae’kathoth’s stolen body. The blade squealed and made a horrendous cry as the black metal blade met her dark cuirass and threw out bright sparks.

The scythe flew toward Hal and he barely managed to lean out of its way. He couldn’t move his feet and the shadowy hands were slowly dragging him toward the black swirling pit in the middle of the room.

He did not want to know what would happen when he reached it.

Hal knelt down and slapped his chained hand to the floor. “Why don’t you take a better body, you Slenderman reject!”

Spectral barbed chains sprang up lashing across the body of Noth, pulling taut, and holding Shae’kathoth in place. He hesitated a moment, unwilling to actually wound Noth much further.

“Do it! I would rather be destroyed than let this… vile plague masquerade as me!” Noth’s voice rang out in Hal’s head. He took only a moment to realize how similar it was to when the Beast took over his own body.

And then it hit him.

The solution was right there in front of him. Hal released the scythe and whipped the chain out ahead of him, calling upon its magic to bind to the stone floor. It pulled taut as the shadows dragged Hal inexorably toward the dark pit.

He could force Shae’kathoth’s hand at the same time as he escaped whatever horrors awaited him in that pit. His left arm ached from the strain but he didn’t dare loosen his grip.

As he released his palm from the ground to whip his chain forward, Shae’kathoth broke free of his spell and marched with a snarl toward Hal. If his goal was to enrage the body-stealing creature, he had succeeded.

It didn’t matter what awaited him in the pit less than a foot behind him. Shae’kathoth would get to him first.

Shutting his eyes, Hal focused on the tether that existed between him and Noth. It was strained, less substantial, but nowhere near as weak as when the Beast had taken control.

Good. I can use that.

Hal focused all the willpower he could bring to bear on that tether, strengthening it. With a silent prayer to any god that was listening, Hal forced every ounce of his corporeal form into that tether.

Nothing happened. He was about to try again when a wave of blinding pain assaulted his arm.

Hal howled in agony as his arm popped out of its socket from the constant pull of Noth’s spell. Through sheer tenacity, he managed to keep his focus on the task at hand.

The chain wrapped around his wrist was speckled in blood as it bit into his skin. Before his arm could be entirely ripped away, Hal’s body shifted from corporeal to ethereal, mere inches from Shae’kathoth’s reaching grasp.

You take 19 points of damage.

You suffer the effect of Ethereal Instability.

Confusion crossed Noth’s face. Shae’kathoth twisted his host’s features into a grotesque parody of emotion. Everything was exaggerated and bizarre.

Since he was no longer tethered to the physical plane, the shadowy hands from Call of the Grave had nothing to grasp onto. The spell faded without a target. At the same time, Hal’s weapons clattered to the ground. Whatever kept Noth’s scythe with her didn’t appear to be part of shifting between the two states.

Shae’kathoth lunged forward, a gauntleted hand dove right through Hal’s incorporeal form. Confusion gave way to rage. It was harder to stay ethereal than before. His own corporeality had nowhere to go without Noth taking his corporeal form. He could feel the tether strain against what he did.

Fearing what it would do to the tether if Hal persisted, he dove to the side becoming corporeal once more. He hit the ground with a gut-wrenching roll, reaching for his weapons. He just barely managed to scoop up both chain and blade.

His dislocated left arm sent waves of nauseating pain that made it hard to think. The arm was useless on its own. Only through using his shadow-infused essence could he move it. And even then it was awkward and sluggish.

Not to mention agonizing.

Seeing Shae’kathoth coming at him, Hal twisted, sending [Goblinbane] down in a sharp arc that Shae’kathoth easily avoided.

But the strike wasn’t meant to hit Shae’kathoth.

As Hal struck out with his sword, he forced his left hand to whip the [Chain of Binding] forward. Focused on the blade, Shae’kathoth didn’t notice the chains until it was too late. A hearty clink told Hal he made a connection with Noth’s sturdy black armor and in that instant, he enacted the chain’s enchantment to hold fast.

Triggering Deep Magic, shadows spread from his hand to lick up along the edge of [Goblinbane]. His treant essence gave the blade’s metal a rough, textured look. Hal didn’t know if Shae’kathoth was weak to arcana or plantoid but he was willing to bet that either monster property would hurt the creature more than a steel blade.

Setting his feet, Hal yanked on the chain. He nearly blacked out from the pain but the shadow-laced tug sent the unbalanced Shae’kathoth stumbling forward. Right onto the thrusting [Goblinbane]. Hal grimaced as he angled the blade slightly, seeing a seam in the armor at the last second.

I would want the same thing. I did want the same thing, he reminded himself. Not too long ago Hal had been on the receiving end of an ally’s punishment, similarly consumed by an evil entity. And he understood Noth’s desire to be destroyed rather than let a monster walk around in her skin.

He could give her that much. Though it pained him to have to do it, that he could not make good on his vow to see her whole. The least he could do is make sure she did not turn into an abomination.

The blade slid in through a thin gap in the armor just above the hip. Hal twisted the blade and placed a boot onto Shae’kathoth’s stunned body, kicking with all his might.

You take 13 points of damage.

Weakness Exploited!

Savage Critical!

[Shae’kathoth-Noth] takes 189 points of damage!

Shae’kathoth went staggering away but Hal didn’t release it from the chain’s hold, he summoned Bomb Toss and shaped the spell to explode in a fiery fan in front of himself. At the same time, he pulled the monster masquerading as the Reaper back in again for another vicious strike.

Another wave of agony assaulted him and if not for the blade driven deep into the body of the Reaper’s possessed form, Hal would have fallen over.

Recalling the way her armor reacted to the heat of the campfire, Hal was unsurprised to find her armor melted off her body leaving her nearly naked. And the Reaper’s pale blue-toned skin was no obstacle to the [Goblinbane].

Exploiting that weakness in Noth’s armor, Hal leaned on the blade as much for support as to drive it deeper. He sent the blade up so that it shot out the woman’s back. Her black eyes went wide and blood bubbled on her lips.

Hal withdrew the [Goblinbane], watching with dismay as a thick stream of blood flowed from the wound. He twisted on his heels and looped the chain in his left hand around the crossguard on his right. He pulled with all his might on the chain, yanking Shae’kathoth off its feet and over Hal’s head.

He released the binding hold of the chain as Shae’kathoth slammed hard into the stone floor. A wave of dizziness assaulted him and Hal collapsed to one knee, banging it against the stone floor painfully.

A wave of white pain washed out his vision for a moment. He growled through it and focused on Noth’s downed form.

“I have no idea how strong your body is Noth, are you… okay?”

“I can’t tell,” Noth replied, her voice was as weak as her body looked. “But I think Shae’kathoth is able to empower my body. Be wary… if he gains access to further spells and abilities, he could be more dangerous than you can imagine. Finish it, Hal. Before he gains too much control.”

Hal touched the floor with his palm. The chains made a loud rattling sound, drawing the groggy Shae’kathoth’s attention. Spectral chains, simple but thick and sturdy snugged themselves around Shae’kathoth’s stolen form, pulling it tightly to the floor.

He understood then, why Ashera hadn’t killed him. Though she clearly had the Beast beat during their fight. As much as he wanted to give Noth the peace she wanted… he couldn’t do it. And that’s when another plan came to him.

One that he had wanted to avoid at all costs. But it was the only way if they both were to survive.

“Give it up,” Hal said, walking over to Noth’s scythe and kicking it farther away.

“Never,” Shae’kathoth rasped through bloodied lips.

I hope I’m right about this.

He felt sure of his plan but it was still a massive risk. One that he might not normally have the conviction to pull off on its own. But with Noth’s life threatened, he found the steel within himself to see it done. For all the Reaper’s sour moods, she consistently chose to help him despite her recent protestations that she was just a “witness.”

“You backed the wrong horse,” Hal taunted, gritting his teeth through the pain. He must not let Shae’kathoth know how badly he was wounded. He had to bait him into thinking Hal was the superior host. “You can’t even beat me in that form, but if you had my body….” Hal let the notion hang in the air.

The binding chains were so tight Shae’kathoth couldn’t get Noth’s head to move an inch. But Hal could feel Shae’kathoth’s interest. “Then once you defeat this shell, I will claim your body. You are a boy compared to the man whose body I wanted but I can mold you into my own image easily enough.”

Hal barked a dry, humorless laugh. “Can you take over dead bodies? Yeah, I didn’t think so. So here’s the deal-”

“Hal, what are you doing? Kill it!”

The fact that Noth was still in there, still able to talk to him had to mean something. If he could only get Shae’kathoth to leave her body, she might still be able to reclaim it.

Based on what Thirty-seven told him, the people Shae’kathoth took possession of were wiped of any vestiges of their personality. He had to believe this was different. That Noth was different. She wasn’t human, after all.

“You leave Noth’s body – now – and I won’t kill your current host or your future host.” Hal spread his arms wide, masking the pain of the motion with a big tooth-cracking smile. “I’m pretty awesome and I’m just getting started. Think of the possibilities. How strong you’ll be. But if you want to continue fighting….” Hal shrugged and dropped his arms to his sides, fighting against the wave of nausea from his dislocated arm.

“You would willingly give your body to me?” Shae’kathoth asked, clearly suspicious. Hal grinned a bit wider when he saw the notification.

Your Persuasion has risen to Level 7.

+1% Persuasion success (+7%).

+0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (+3.5%).

“If you leave her immediately with no further harm. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.” Hal clenched his jaw. His knuckles stood out stark and white as he gripped the handle of his blade and the chains as hard as he could.

He’d only get one shot at this. If he was fast, he could cut the creature down when it was vulnerable between hosts. The alternative was a last resort he wasn’t sure would work.

If this goes south, Besal we might be getting a guest. Hopefully, you give him the warm reception you gave me.

“Very well,” Shae’kathoth rasped.

The oily thing shot out of Noth’s mouth faster than Hal could have expected. He lashed out with [Goblinbane] and whipped the chain around to stave off the creature but it was too simply too fast. The pain of moving his dislocated arm was too great and it fell short, leaving Hal exposed.

Hal felt the frigid oily touch of Shae’kathoth and everything went dark.

88

Hal had been here before. This eternal darkness was the same place Besal had placed him when he proved too troublesome for the Beast.

It scared him more than he wanted to admit that Shae’kathoth was able to push him out so easily. A distant bestial roar echoed in the dark and Hal grinned.

Too bad for Shae’kathoth that Hal wasn’t the only one in here.

Cracks of light appeared in the dark, letting in streams of white light. Hal’s dark prison shattered and he tucked his shoulder as he fell to the solid white floor. Rolling to absorb the impact, Hal popped up to his feet with a smug grin on his face. Unlike his physical body, inside his mind, he was whole and unharmed.

“Oh,” he said, stepping toward the dark forms of Besal and Shae’kathoth. They were staring each other down like two apex predators. “Did I forget to mention that I have a roommate?”

“Base trickery!” Shae’kathoth screamed. Its long lanky form lashed out and Besal batted aside the limb with a sickening crack. Shae’kathoth’s scream of rage turned to one of agony as its limb bent at an angle it wasn’t meant to.

Hal looked at Besal. The Beast looked back and gave a subtle nod. They were in agreement over this. They had a foe in common here.

Focusing his thoughts, Hal summoned a shadowy simulacrum not of [Goblinbane] but that of Thirty-seven’s [Brilliance] to his hand. Hal couldn’t hide his grin when Shae’kathoth started at its sight. He clearly remembered it.

Good. Hal wanted the last thing Shae’kathoth saw to be Thirty-seven’s sword. To know that the man Shae’kathoth thought it had beaten would have his revenge.

Likewise, Besal sprouted long curving talons on his hands. His skin blackened, oily black wings swept up and out from his back. His ruby-red eyes glowed with unbridled rage.

For once, Shae’kathoth was afraid.

In this place, within himself, Hal could sense its emotions and thoughts as easily as his own. There were no barriers here.

The eternal creature knew fear, knew its death was imminent. It had existed for millennia uncontested, growing stronger and stronger. Nothing had resisted its corrupting touch, not the holiest of holy nor the lowest of low. But this creature that stood split before him, this abomination terrified Shae’kathoth.

If Shae’kathoth had been at his full power, he might have stood a chance against one of them. But as the Beast lashed out with powerful rending claws, and Hal swept in from behind with a sidelong cut, Shae’kathoth was reminded that it was not fighting one, but two.

Even still, Shae’kathoth was more powerful than Hal could have imagined. His blade cleaved through spine and oily sinew, only for it to reknit a moment later.

Besal lunged at Shae’kathoth, gripped the creature in his powerful clawed hands, and ripped him in half, sending each piece flying in a different direction.

With their thoughts so in tune with one another, the pair split off to their respective halves, hacking and clawing with reckless abandon.

The twin halves were not defenseless, however.

They lashed out with their own biting attacks. Shae’kathoth’s head split open and clamped upon Hal’s torso. Hal screamed as he felt the needle-sharp teeth dig into him and scrape across his ribs.

With a thought, he forced black shadowy spikes to leap off his body and likewise impale Shae’kathoth from the inside.

He was unceremoniously spat out, tumbling to the pale floor. As the pair fought the halved forms of Shae’kathoth, the light continued to dim in the area. A sign that they were not able to so easily overpower the invader.

The fight dragged on but for every blow Shae’kathoth delivered, it received three in kind. Eventually, even the sturdy eldritch form of Shae’kathoth could not hold out under the continued assault.

Heavy oily clumps of fleshy substance splattered to the floor with every great sweeping cleave of Hal’s sword. Every rending strike of Besal’s claws left gaps in the fiend’s body. It could not heal fast enough before the next attack descended upon it.

The diminished forms of Shae’kathoth grew smaller and thinner with each attack. Shae’kathoth’s attacks no longer stung, they didn’t even get past the defenses of his tormentors.

“You are not welcome here,” Besal snarled, batting the tiny form of Shae’kathoth to Hal.

“Thirty-seven may not have been able to kill you,” Hal said, stepping back and allowing the two halves of Shae’kathoth to recombine.

Hal stalked forward, his dripping blade held to the side ready to strike. Dark shadowy chains dragged across the floor from his left hand. “He may have feared what would happen if you escaped during the fight. I harbor no such fears. You cannot hope to escape your judgment this time.”

Shae’kathoth had toppled empires. Subjugated aberrant horrors the likes of which would turn most mortal minds to jelly if they so much as gazed upon their terrible visage. But in the end, it only took one man and his inner demon to destroy the fiend utterly.

It raised a thin arm in feeble defense. “I can offer you greater power than this shade of an abomination can! And you can stay in control. I will be subservient to you, you have my word!”

Hal raised his sword to strike then paused for no reason other than to give the wretched thing a sense of hope. Shae’kathoth began to rise just as Hal delivered his answer in a sharply angled cleaving strike that sliced through its arm and severed the thing’s head from its shoulders.

The remains of the creature turned to a brackish sludge that pooled at Hal’s feet. It seeped onto Hal’s boot and up into his form. He started for a moment but then realized it wasn’t attacking him. There was no maliciousness in the sludge. Whatever part of Shae’kathoth that was its soul or controlling power was gone.

This was raw power. Corrupting power, Hal began to realize as the familiar sensation of his rising Strain made itself known but power all the same. And in the absence of its previous host, it latched onto the nearest thing.

Hal shut his eyes and forced himself from that place, back into his body in the real world.

He reeled from the sudden shift. The darkness of the room was complete and if not for the prompt that appeared in his vision he would have feared he was back in that lightless jail once more.

Being shoved back into that place – even for a moment – had the same effect as before. Any magic Hal was sustaining was wiped away. The agony he expected was gone, a quick glance showed his HP was regenerating. Absorbing Shae’kathoth was quickly knitting the worst of his wounds while it ramped up his Strain.

Strain Affliction Lv.2 (Savage).

Most mortals would have fallen at this point. Few Chimera Knights even reach this pinnacle of savagery. But a Beastborne thrives on the knife’s edge of destruction. It is there that they find both greatness and despair.

Beast Magic Efficacy +60% | Beast Magic Damage +60%.

Essence Tier +1.

Max HP +10% | Max MP +10%.

MP Cost +15% | Strain Accumulation +25%.

Hal’s Strain was climbing fast as the corrupting influence of Shae’kathoth’s power took its toll. With the area’s corrupting influence paired with his second tier of Strain, he was at a whopping +75% Strain accumulation rate.

He could hear Besal’s victorious laugh. Even though they had just worked together to defeat a common enemy, the Beast would never stop trying to assume control.

It was in its very nature.

Hal’s answering laugh cut Besal’s short. He was no longer so weak he didn’t have the tools to deal with his mounting Strain.

Hal steeled his mind and focused on the distant memory of how things were before he became a Beastborne, triggering Empty Vessel.

With a sweeping sense of relief, Hal’s steadily growing Strain vanished. And so too did Besal’s impending victory. There was no sense of shame or recrimination. Hal expected no less of the Beast and the Beast made no apologies. Not overtly anyway.

You understand, I had to try, Besal said.

And you know I couldn’t let you, Hal replied.

A grudging sense of respect grew between the two. Besal would keep Hal on his toes even if he was ultimately his enemy and sought to effectively kill Hal. While Hal had grown in strength and cunning enough to thwart the Beast, providing the entity with a proper rival.

Hal used Splice and waved away the prompts that began to flood his vision, saving them for later perusal. He tapped shadow and treant essence, bringing back his Shadesight as he swept the room looking for any further threats.

His eyes immediately clamped onto Noth’s slumped form.

He didn’t know how long he was in his own mind battling Shae’kathoth but judging by the alarming pool of Noth’s blood, it hadn’t been a short bout. He hurried to the Reaper.

Please be okay.

“Noth!” Hal skidded to a halt, nearly slipping on the Reaper’s blood. He dropped to his knees at her side, his panic at her ashen face nearly overwhelmed him.

He shut his eyes, focusing on his bond with her. The tether was still there, if only just. He didn’t know if that counted as Sympathy or not and in either case he was too stubborn not to try.

Using Assimilation, Hal focused on healing Noth.

Hal turned Noth over onto her back and cradled her cold, limp form in his lap. He tilted her head up and stared into the beautifully peaceful face, trying to funnel more and more of his MP and SP into her.

Nothing happened.

The Reaper remained cold and motionless.

Guilt wracked Hal. He had done this to her, even if she asked for it he should have been able to find a better way. He should have taken Shae’kathoth into himself right away and hoped that the Beast would fight the newcomer rather than fuse with it and become an even greater monstrosity as was his secret fear.

He felt through the bond that tethered them but no matter how hard he tried or wished it, he could not trigger Assimilation to heal her. And, ironic as it was, he apparently did lack Sympathy with her. Or else… she was already too far gone.

No, he wouldn’t accept that.

Hal cradled the Reaper in his arms, lifting her as he got a foot beneath himself and stood up. There was nothing more for him here. He wished he could permanently seal that florking gate.

Florking language filter. Can’t say flork. Can’t say bench or shirt or ash. Everybody looks at me like I’m a florking idiot whenever I say shirt like that. It’s even in my own thoughts!

Turning, Hal caught sight of the Manatree’s roots. They were no longer dark and twisted things but thick and pulsing with life. Faint wisps of dancing blue light, flickering like fireflies, hung in the air around it.

As Hal approached, his Strain stopped slowly ticking up and any associated buffs with the Old One’s Blight area effect vanished. The stone pool of fetid oil was replaced by clear shimmering water.

The pool was large enough for a single person. Purely on instinct, Hal lifted Noth over the lip, and being mindful of the roots, slipped her into the glittering pool of water.

I’m sorry, Noth.

Her blood seeped out and clouded the water like red ink and Hal watched with amazement as the blood simply vanished. “Please work,” Hal whispered. He still held Noth, careful not to let her head go beneath the water because the pool was surprisingly deep if not very wide.

Area Effect: Blessing of the Manatree

HP, SP, MP Recovery +200%.

Strain -100%.

Let it be enough.

Noth stirred. Just a twitch at first and then suddenly she began to thrash wildly.

Hal held on as tightly as he could, pressing the Reaper’s back against the curving interior wall of the pool to hold her steady. Her heavy lids flew open, revealing the golden eyes Hal was hoping to see.

“Noth, Noth! It’s okay. Calm down, you’re okay!”

In a moment of blind panic, she clawed at Hal drawing bright lines of blood across his cheek. Hal held on despite the pain. Eventually, she calmed as she realized where she was and that she was no longer in danger.

89

Quest Complete: Dark Legacy.

Beyond all possibility, you have managed to not only save Nothricient’s life but to grant her a permanent mortal shell on Aldim. She may not realize the gift you have given her but in time, she might come to understand what you have done for her.

Objectives

- Discover a method of making Nothricient permanently corporeal. (Complete).

Rewards

- Variable.

- Sympathy: Nothricient.

- Reaper Reputation.

Reaper Reputation: +5,000 (Wary Friendship).

Few are the souls that manage to endear themselves to the Reapers, those shepherds of lost souls. You have managed it by going above and beyond to help one of their sisters. They are watching, even if you do not notice them. At times, they may deign to show themselves and offer a bit of advice.

Hidden Class Quest Completed: Oaths Forged.

By staying true to your vow, you have shown you possess what it takes to become an Oathforger. Oaths are not created lightly and they are not made purely for their accolades. You have stayed true to these tenets, keeping your vow hidden and yet pursuing it doggedly.

Objectives

- Obtain Sympathy with two people (Complete).

- Learn Empathy and use it with one person (Complete).

- Forge a bond with an initially hostile entity (Complete).

Reward

- Fabled Class Unlocked: Oathforger

You have unlocked Oathforger.

No man is an island. This, the most basic tenet of an Oathforger, you have learned and taken to heart. In the ages before the Founders brought sanctioned order to the world, this responsibility fell to the ancient Oathforgers. Their Oaths held insurmountable power to break and reforge the bonds of the natural order for the better of all. With an Oath, they could inspire the cowardly to action, give succor to the wounded, and even loosen the iron-cold grip of Death itself.

Oathforger reaches Level 1.

You have 5 unspent Attribute Points awaiting distribution.

You learn Oath.

The beating heart of the Oathforgers, an Oath is a solemn vow that exists between the Oathforger and a given entity. Be it the natural order of the elements themselves, a powerful king, or a lowly beggar. Many Oaths will be presented to you by fulfilling specific conditions. Others can be created willingly between yourself and other parties. Oaths are sacred above all else and though they provide access to great power, like all things in life they are fragile.

Breaking an Oath once temporarily restricts that Oath from being enacted, limiting any spells, perks, and powers associated with the Oath. Breaking the same Oath a second time permanently destroys it. If three Oaths are broken over the lifetime of an Oathforger, they have proven themselves incapable of bearing the burden of its powers and they are an Oathforger no more.

Fabled Class Trait: Regal Bearing.

+35% Base Charisma.

+25% Base Persuasion, Intimidation, and Deception Success.

Oath of the Brightking Unlocked.

You give hope to those around you, and they, in turn, bolster your resolve to carry on. Those bound to you by this Oath perceive you as the leader you could be, the ruler that all goodly people yearn for. The kindly king those of dark intent fear.

Oath of the Brightking Boons.

[Self]

+5 Leadership.

+5 CHR.

Spell: Warding

Shield an ally with layers of protective runes, providing them with 5 layers of 10 Resistance to a specific entity.

MP Cost: 50

[Allies]

HP +5% | SP +5% | MP +5%

Oath of the Brightking Axioms.

Never intentionally harm an ally.

Protect an incapacitated ally above all else.

Do you wish to undertake the Oath of the Brightking?

That was a lot to parse.

Two Quests completed, and a new Fabled Class? Despite the weariness of the battle, he was more than happy to accept such an Oath, though. It was one he already held close to his heart. He would have to see if Ashera knew anything about Oathforgers.

Oath of the Brightking accepted.

By staying true to your Oath, it will grow in scope and potency. Each Tier will bring new boons to both yourself and your allies but it will also require new axioms.

A flash of white light rippled out from Hal and bathed Noth, clearly affecting her with the Oath. Her eyes widened suddenly and she looked at him in a new light. “Hal?” Noth asked, awareness returning to her. “What… happened?”

“What do you remember last?”

The Reaper’s eyes focused and she scrambled to get out of the pool in a panic, like a cat that just realized it was soaking in water. Noth burst out of the pool and landed awkwardly on the stone in a heap. And very naked.

Every drip of the water onto the pitted stone beneath her feet revitalized it, bringing a measure of former glory and strength back to the inanimate material. Noth’s armor was gone, revealing creamy, toned skin. No hint of the lifeless blue skin she used to have.

“What did you do!” Noth bellowed accusingly.

Hal was taken aback, he struggled to meet her eye and to look away at the same time. “I saved you, did you want to die that badly? Can Reapers even die?”

She opened her mouth but bit back the retort. “I was dying?” The memory seemed to come back to her. “Before, I would have laughed at how ridiculous that notion was. A Reaper, dying. But since being tethered to you, forced to exist on this….” She motioned vaguely, disdainfully. “I would have said that was impossible too. The truth is, I do not know.”

Wary of another outburst, Hal went to her side, removing his [Simple Cloak] and draping it across her bare shoulders. She looked curiously at it, then him. Her nudity didn’t seem to register or even bother her.

Hal tried to give her a comforting smile. But Hal couldn’t get the image of her out of his head, not her beauty but the wounds that should at least left a scar. There was no sign of any damage whatsoever.

And he realized that he felt likewise.

Just dipping his hands into the pool to hold Noth had healed him completely. Even the wounds Noth clawed on his face were gone.

The memory of pain and the sickening sound as his shoulder popped out of the socket made him nauseous.

He gave a gentle roll of his left shoulder, amazed at how well it moved. As if it was never injured.

Staying in the proximity of the Manatree’s roots gave him a measure of peace he hadn’t known since his arrival.

“Are you okay?” Hal asked, noting the new shine to her eyes.

A few tears gathered and fell down her cheeks. “No, I’m not fine! Look at me! I’m crying, Hal!”

He furrowed his brow. “You nearly died, that’s not so abnorm-”

Noth made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat.

“You don’t get it,” she said. “You bathed me in the Manatree’s waters.” She paused a moment to let that settle in.

When Hal didn’t make the connection, she threw up her arms in frustration, upsetting the robe and giving Hal an eyeful as it slipped from her shoulders to puddle on the floor around her feet.

She scowled at him, but it had nothing to do with her recurrent state of undress. “How you can do so many things right without having any idea is beyond frustrating.”

“Enlighten me,” Hal said with a faint smile, trying to sidle up to her and put the cloak back around her shoulders. He was used to Noth’s bluster but more than that he was happy she was alive. He had finally found a way to give her the peace he had secretly sought.

He felt bad enough about Giel. But to be so directly linked to Noth’s death would have been a heavy burden he wasn’t ready to bear.

The Reaper took a steadying breath and shut her eyes. “The Manatree is a thing of this world, by putting me into its waters you healed me.

“But the Manatree does not distinguish one soul from another. It did not know that I was not of this plane and so when it healed me… the mana that flooded into me bound me to this plane.”

“Are you saying you’re mortal now?” Hal asked, hopeful.

The Reaper nodded, her shoulders slumped. “I was hoping that I would be able to find a way to return to my plane of existence. Either you would die and I could take you back or….” She heaved her shoulders in a profound sigh. “Now I have all these emotions running around inside of me. How do you people even think with so many feelings?”

Willing to risk getting his hand bitten off or worse, Hal placed a comforting hand on Noth’s shoulder. “We get by, but we often make poor decisions because of them. They’re not so bad though, emotions can make you happy too. They can help you to see the brighter side of life.”

Noth scoffed. “They blind you to the reality that your existence is little more than an eyeblink. Insignificant.”

“That doesn’t mean our lives aren’t worth living,” Hal countered. “What does it matter how long or short we live? Every day we make a choice to live, to do something with our lives. Even if that choice is as insignificant as bringing a smile to a stranger’s face.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Noth asked. She turned incredulous. “How can you be so sanguine about an utterly useless existence?”

“Like I said,” Hal said, removing his hand from her shoulder and getting to his feet. He offered that same hand to Noth to help her up. “How long or short we live is irrelevant. If I lived a thousand years but did nothing more than watch the universe dance through its motions, that doesn’t make my life more valuable than somebody who lives ten, twenty, even a hundred years.

“It is the quality of a life, not the quantity of its years, that makes it worth living. I would rather live a shorter life filled with adventure, friends, and wonder, than an impossibly long dull life.”

Noth didn’t say anything as she took his hand and let Hal pull her to her feet. She said nothing at all as she worked her jaw and fought hard against the tears shining in her eyes.

She turned on her heels and went to retrieve her scythe. Noth stood over its dark form, worry plainly etched on her face. Tentatively, she lowered herself down and grasped the weapon. She breathed an audible sigh of relief when it didn’t reject her.

With a flourish, she lifted the weapon and spun it through the air. “At least it still knows its master,” she said softly. Noth sniffed loudly and turned back to Hal. “My middle hurts.” She rested a hand right over her stomach. “But I see no wound.”

Hal bit back his first kneejerk reply. “Does it feel like a rumbling, grumbling sort of pain?”

The Reaper nodded, as wide-eyed and intrigued at this new development as a child.

“You’re hungry.”

“Nonsense,” she said with a dismissive gesture. “I do not eat.”

“You were never mortal before.”

“Perhaps I will abstain. I have heard mortals die if they do not eat. It cannot be that painful. If I die then my soul will be claimed by one of my sisters. Then I can explain to them what happened and they will restore me to my proper role. Everything will be as it should be.”

Hal rather doubted it would be anywhere near as simple and straightforward as that but he kept his mouth shut and took out one of his boxes of [Rations]. “Here,” he said, holding it out to her.

Noth turned her nose up at it. “I do not want it.”

Hal tried to press it into her hands but she refused to take it. With a grumble, Hal turned back to the Manatree and put it on the stone lip of the pool. “It’s here if you want it.”

Safe in the knowledge that Noth was okay, he dismissed her from his thoughts and examined the Manatree. He looked down into the glimmering pool of pristine water that clearly reflected the thickening roots above it.

With no idea what he was doing, Hal placed his palm against one of the roots.

Hal shut his eyes and concentrated, calling out to the Manaseed within his soul. While the Manatree looked healthier, he could feel that it was still wounded. He wanted to heal it, to call upon it so it could once again blanket Murkmire in its protection.

The very act of reaching for it unlocked something deep within Hal’s Manaseed. He felt a connection to the Manatree, strong and pure. Felt its pain as his pain. Festering boils of corruption still feasted on the roots of the Manatree, withering its protection deep in the mountain it once kept free of such abominations.

He surrendered his own strength to the Manatree. While similar, it wasn’t the same as using Assimilation. The Manatree didn’t take a single point of HP, SP, or MP.

It took something else, something intangible.

Hal could feel the Manatree grow and blossom as if it were an extension of himself. It shrugged off the parasites feasting on its roots. It surged with new growth as the countless wounds healed and it drew mana from deep within the mountain at Hal’s command.

With a burst of azure light, the Manatree’s roots turned pale white and the room was bathed in dancing firefly-sized motes of deep blue.

A deep peace settled over the room.

The motes of blue danced in front of the looming, profane gate as it began to calcify. Stone grew over the door, not tumorous black bulging stone, but a light gray stone natural to the mountain of Murkmire.

A few moments later, all that remained to hint that a gate had even been there were thirty-eight steps leading up to a blank wall of stone.

Through his connection to the Manatree he could sense it sending out waves of rippling mana. Any monster that the field of growing mana touched turned to glowing motes of light.

Hundreds of monsters were vaporized in an instant. And something larger… much larger than anything Hal had ever seen before, squatting in the deepest bowels of the mountain was obliterated.

Fearing for Vorax’s life and those of any other goodly monsters that might exist, he tried to talk to the Manatree, to let it know not to hurt them.

Its answer was not unlike Vorax’s. A series of feelings and imagery but on a scale far surpassing anything he ever felt before. It was like being hit by a tidal wave, only a few of the impressions stuck in his mind.

Pure. Goodness. Heart-friends.

The Manatree - any Manatree it seemed - was a force of good. And any creature from this plane, no matter how monstrous, would suffer no harm if they held the spark of goodness in them.

It was immensely comforting.

Your Manatree Skill has risen to Level 1.

+3% Manatree Spell Potency (+3%).

You unlock Manashield.

A remnant of the Manatree’s own power to repel the worst of the Manastorms, this ability affords you a portion of a Manatree’s protections against an oncoming Manastorm. It is not powerful enough to repel monsters but it will weaken them.

Casting Time: 10 minutes.

Duration: 8 hours.

Radius: 20ft.

Applies Area Effect: Manatree’s Wrath.

All creatures within the effective radius of the Manashield move 10% slower and have their DEF and MDEF reduced by 10%.

[Manasapling: Murkmire] gains 97,340 Experience.

[Manasapling: Murkmire] attains Level 205.

[Manasapling: Murkmire] evolves into [Manatree: Murkmire].

[Manatree: Murkmire] has 47 Perk Points awaiting distribution.

You lack sufficient Manatree Skill to access this information.

You are not the Guardian of this Manatree.

An itching sensation brought Hal’s attention to his Founder’s mark. In the center of the middlemost triangle grew an imprint of a blossoming Manatree. It glowed with pale moonlight, in sharp contrast to the bright gold of the mark.

A smile lit his face. The Manaseed within him glowed with pride.

90

“How do you put up with it?” Noth asked, coming up alongside him.

Hal pulled his eyes from the moonlit mark of the Manatree and looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“That… thumping in your chest. And the way your body is pushing and pulling air and that-” Noth’s voice began to fade and she took a big painful-looking gulp of air that made Hal wince in sympathy. “You always need so much air to talk! Why are your bodies such heaps of trash?”

Hal leaned against the stone pool and chuckled. “Okay, first of all, that’s your heartbeat. If you stop thinking about it you’ll eventually stop noticing it. Same goes for your breathing. If you stop focusing on it so much it’ll do it on its own.”

“I don’t like it,” Noth said poutily.

“Unfortunately, you’re stuck with it.”

She eyed Hal suspiciously as if he was hiding some secret to being mortal. “It’s so hard to think with all these emotions rattling around. My mind feels fuzzy and murky.

“I feel better when I’m standing near…” She glanced at him, then immediately shifted her gaze to the Manatree roots when she saw he was watching her. “The Manatree. I used to like the feeling of isolation, now I hate it. It’s cold and lonely.” Noth glared at Hal. “I didn’t get lonely before.”

Hal doubted that but he kept it to himself. “I’m sorry the transition is so hard for you Noth,” he said sincerely.

He could only imagine how hard it would be to go from a being that likely never needed to sleep, eat, breathe, or have emotions to being human. Heck, if she hates eating she’ll really hate what happens after she eats or drinks anything.

The Reaper eyed him, unsure if he was being serious. The emotions on her face were so pure and plain to see that it was almost unfair. Hal could practically read her thoughts.

“Do Reapers… Level Up?” Hal asked tentatively. He wasn’t even sure how much she knew about Classes and the world at large.

“I know of Levels, but I am not well versed in their mechanics. Such things are beneath-” She stopped herself, her cheeks blushed. “Such things were beneath me. I suppose I shall have to learn. You’re pretty ignorant about these things, perhaps we can learn together.”

Hal watched the blush of embarrassment with more than passing curiosity. He remembered when the Reaper’s skin had been so pale, almost corpse-blue. Now that she was alive, she had an actual complexion that wasn’t frozen in time.

“I’d like that,” Hal said, ignoring the slight. “I’m usually the one that has to keep asking questions and its often frustrating.”

“Oh, I will not ask questions,” Noth corrected. “You will ask questions for me and I will learn from the answers given.”

Hal chuckled and began to take off his tattered aketon, sliding it off one shoulder then the next after he unbuckled his belt. She stared at him uncomprehendingly. “I am not sure how I feel about what I am seeing,” she said baldly.

That brought another chuckle out of him. He held out the red quilted jacket to her. “You can wear this and then tie the cloak around your waist. I’m sorry, but it’s the best I’ve got. With any luck, one of the others will have clothes you can wear.”

He walked around the stone pool until his back was to Noth. He slid down into a sitting position, resting his head against the cool stones of the pool.

He pitched his voice so she could hear him on the other side of the pool, “You should check your prompts. Just think about accessing your menu and it should display. Give it a try but you might want to sit first. It can be a little disorienting.”

Hal brought up his previously withheld notifications. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Noth inch her way toward him. The [Traveler’s Aketon] and the [Simple Cloak] fashioned into a skirt looked a little odd but at least she was clothed. Slowly, like a skittish alley cat, she sidled up to him and sat down next to him.

He could see Noth’s mouth working as she read her prompts under her breath.

You defeat [Shae’kathoth].

You gain 15,000 Experience Points.

You earn 15,000 sparks.

You absorb 300 Eldritch Essence.

You absorb an Eldritch Soul: Shae’kathoth.

Unlocked Soul Absorption.

Certain unique creatures possess inordinately robust abilities and boast knowledge far beyond their kin. These entities, once defeated, can have their specific essence absorbed, providing unique boons and abilities found only within that creature. Due to the nature of these souls, only one can be set at any given time. And a full day must pass before another soul can be set in its place.

Eldritch Soul: Shae’kathoth.

Dominate: +100% Duration, +100% Dominated Targets.

Beast Magic Spell: Shifting Mask.

Take on the appearance of another, altering every aspect of your body, including clothes and items.

School: Beast Magic.

Type: Magical (Dark).

Family: Eldritch (Soul of Shae’kathoth).

MP: 200

BP: 5

Strain: 10

Duration: 1 hour.

Beast Magic Spell: Soul Drain.

By touching an opponent, you are capable of draining their resources and stats. The more types you drain the less potent the spell becomes and there is a higher chance for resists. Drained stats and resources are removed from the afflicted and temporarily added to you.

School: Beast Magic.

Type: Magical (Dark).

Family: Eldritch (Soul of Shae’kathoth).

MP: 120

BP: 5

Strain: 7

Duration: 1 hour.

Your Beast Magic has risen to Level 11.

…

Your Beast Magic has risen to Level 13.

+3% Beast Magic potency (+39%).

Your Enfeebling Magic has risen to Level 11.

Your Enfeebling Magic has risen to Level 12.

+1% Enfeebling success (+12%).

+2% Enfeebling duration (+24%).

Your Sword Skill has risen to Level 9.

+1% Sword damage (+9%).

-0.25% Sword durability loss (-2.25%).

Your Evasion Skill has risen to Level 11.

+1% Evasion speed (+11%).

-1% Stamina cost (-11%).

Your Improvised Weaponry Skill has risen to Level 11.

Your Improvised Weaponry Skill has risen to Level 12.

+2% Improvised Weapon damage (+24%).

+2% Improvised Weapon attack speed (+24%).

Monster Attunements Available.

Eldritch: 2

Hidden Quest Completed: Peace for the Fallen.

You have put your fallen brother’s soul to rest, freeing him from decades of service as a jailer to Shae’kathoth. By defeating the Eldritch menace you not only gave Thirty-seven’s sacrifice meaning but managed to avert the impending disaster that would befall Murkmire.

Objectives

- Release Thirty-seven’s soul from servitude (Complete).

- Destroy Shae’kathoth before it can break free (Complete).

Rewards

- Trait: Stalwart Soul.

- 4,500 Experience Points.

- Murkmire Hero.

Stalwart Soul

For the purposes of overcoming resistance to negative status effects, all attributes are considered double their actual value.

Murkmire Hero

Though the common citizenry of Murkmire may not know the particulars of what you did, an oppressive pall has been lifted from Murkmire. As a result, all Reputation gains are doubled and Reputation losses are halved.

Soul Absorption made him feel uncomfortable. He felt reasonably sure it wasn’t actually a creature’s soul but it was odd all the same. It did, however, provide a powerful incentive – as if he needed any more – to go out and hunt rare or uniquely powerful monsters.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about having that thing’s soul in him. Though technically, it wasn’t Shae’kathoth’s soul, only its residual power. As the description said, it was little more than essence. Without form or intention.

Unsurprisingly, Shae’kathoth didn’t have any items on him. But the bounty in both sparks and EXP was massive.

While it went against his instincts, Hal decided not to spend all of his EXP and instead create a large buffer. Not for Founder Sigils - though he planned to take Thirty-seven’s advice and try to learn more in the days and weeks of travel in his future - but for the healing factor.

After they turned in the Contract and had all the supplies they needed, Hal meant to head west for the Manaseed. From there, he assumed they would go to the Shiverglades.

And healing while out in the wilds would likely be difficult or costly. Having a bank of EXP to do a full heal once per day would be useful.

However, he only wanted about 10,000 EXP as a buffer. Stockpiling the EXP at the cost of progress wasn’t what he was after. Committing his EXP, however, proved problematic. A prompt flashed when he tried to put EXP into Oathforger.

Cannot allocate Experience Points to Oathforger. All Classes (barring the first Class after Novice) can only attain Experience Points from Discordant Stones after they have been unlocked. All Experience Points gained prior are invalid for the new Class.

Figures, he grumped. But there was nothing for it. He would have to keep that in mind for later. Good thing he didn’t hoard his EXP hoping to dump it all and get Oathforger to Level 10 in an instant.

Instead, Hal took Beastborne to lucky Level 13. The cost was a little more, but Beastborne was his main Class and he felt it would likely always be.

Beastborne reaches Level 12.

Beastborne reaches Level 13.

You have 15 unspent Attribute Points awaiting assignment.

You learn Clear Mind.

Sacrifice a third of your HP, SP, and MP to reduce Strain to 0.

Limit once per day.

With his 15 points to spend, Hal pushed his MND to 30. Considering the boosts Oathforger had to CHR based actions and skills, he put the rest into CHR bringing it up to a base of 20.

[Status]

Hal Williams

Level: 24

Discordant Stone: 11,681/55,000

Strain: 0/50

BP: 10/10

Classes

Beastborne: 13

Novice: 10

Oathforger: 1

Resources

HP: 345/345

SP: 315/315

MP: 395/395

Attributes

STR: 10 (+5)

VIT: 20

DEX: 10 (+1)

AGI: 10 (+4)

INT: 27 (+1)

MND: 30

CHR: 20 (+10)

Regeneration

HP/hr: 51.1

SP/hr: 52.4

MP/hr: 92.4

Resistances

Fire: 25

Ice: 0

Wind: 0

Earth: 0

Lightning: 0

Water: -25

Light: 0

Dark: 0

Defensive Properties

DEF: 34

MDEF: 15

Insulation: 28

That was a significant boost to his CHR. Regal Bearing was pretty nice, he couldn’t wait to see how it worked in practice. With his higher CHR, it would make interacting with people a lot nicer and smoother.

Hal glanced toward Noth. Despite the deluge of prompts Hal received, she still wasn’t done with her own. He went about setting Shae’kathoth’s soul and felt more than a little uncomfortable during the process.

In the end, he didn’t feel different aside from his awareness of the new spells at his disposal. Maybe in some small way, Hal could use the eldritch abomination’s powers for good, making up for the horror it once spread.

Shifting Mask would be especially useful.

With what he knew of Rinbast now, and that the man likely would be looking for him, he would need to be more careful. He could walk around any city without worry beyond the hourly duration.

Once his MND was high enough, he could probably natively regenerate enough MP to keep the spell up indefinitely.

Provided he could find a place to recast it away from prying eyes.

Soul Drain was just as useful if not darker.

Considering the enfeebling perk Dream Thief, Hal could see a potential synergy there. That potential, however, depended entirely on whether or not Dream Thief was specific to enfeebling magic spells or any spell that had an enfeebling effect – like Soul Drain.

Getting a 50% boost to its power would be useful. Finding somebody that was already asleep and near a battle he’d need the spell for seemed unlikely, however.

Stalwart Soul seemed something that Thirty-seven would have had. Even if Hal wasn’t a tank, being more resistant to negative statuses was always welcome. It would help bridge the gap when he wasn’t using Monstrous Resistance. And when he was, it made him even more likely to resist nasty effects.

I could have used it against that pain in the butt slow effect that nearly got me killed. Would have been nice then.

It was amazing how much his skills had grown from a single battle. Since Noth was still preoccupied, he brought up his attunements, wondering what eldritch offered.

He was more than a little curious how it differed from aberration, considering a Shoggoth was - as far as he knew - often lumped into the same category of horrors as the other Lovecraftian abominations.

[Monster Attunements]

Eldritch: 2

Fear Killer 0/5

Every attack has a 10% chance to inflict the Fear status affliction. Any creature under the effect of Fear takes 15% more damage from you.

Lv1: 10% Chance | 15% Damage Increase

Lv2: 15% Chance | 20% Damage Increase

Lv3: 20% Chance | 25% Damage Increase

Lv4: 25% Chance | 30% Damage Increase

Lv5: 35% Chance | 50% Damage Increase

Elder Prowess 0/5

Eldritch creatures are deeply attuned to the ebb and flow of mana, making them unparalleled practitioners of the darkest magicks. All magic is 10% more potent.

Lv1: +10% Magic Potency

Lv2: +20% Magic Potency

Lv3: +30% Magic Potency

Lv4: +40% Magic Potency

Lv5: +50% Magic Potency

While Eldritch only had two essence attunements to choose from, both were really quite good. Fear Killer had a great deal of potential on its own purely for the chance to inflict a status effect without a spell or ability.

But as he delved deeper into casting and Beast Magic, overlooking Elder Prowess would be foolish. A straight improvement to the potency of all his spells was not something he could pass up. The wording meant it would apply to healing spells as well as buffs and utility spells.

Eventually having a 50% bonus to all magic potency was just flat-out broken. Not that he expected to reach that strength anytime soon. He doubted eldritch creatures were common. And as much as Thirty-seven had weakened Shae’kathoth, Hal still nearly died.

Looking over at Noth, Hal felt a pang of guilt. He wasn’t the only one who nearly died.

He could always specifically go out of his way to hunt eldritch creatures - assuming it was even an option - if he wanted to take Fear Killer at a later date. If he was only taking into account the damage increase, Elder Prowess would still win out.

At a 10% chance, the averaged out damage increase of Fear Killer was 1.5%. Even at its highest Level, it was considerably weaker. But together they would provide a massive boost to his damage.

Hal put both of his attunement points into Elder Prowess, increasing all of his magic while Splicing eldritch essence by a whopping 20%. He quickly swapped treant for eldritch, now channeling both shadow and eldritch at once.

The curling shadows that rolled off his body became red-tinged at the frayed edges like a wound torn in space. Ruby-red sparks of electricity arced soundlessly in the air around him and red blinking motes of spiteful mana flowed across his body.

He was strangely entranced by the otherworldliness of it all. It took him several moments to shake off the effect.

Hal got to his feet and found Noth looking up at him expectantly.

“Are we going?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Hal said, taking one last look around the place. He reached a hand down to her. “Finally.”

91

As a mimic, Vorax was used to watching and copying. It was, after all, one of his most basic instincts. But after a while, the mimic began to worry. The people Hal called his family – and by extension, Vorax’s family – had yet to move.

If they were mimics, that would be considered normal. Healthy even. But these people were not mimics. They breathed and shifted. If they only knew how loud they were, how much they moved to the acute senses of a mimic, they would be appalled.

Even the stealthy one with the golden hair that kept looking at him fondly was as loud as a sack of heavy metal armor falling down the stairs.

Yet here they were, unmoving as any statue. The empathetic bond between Vorax and Hal helped the mimic understand concepts and ideas beyond what the mimic had experienced.

Naming was one such concept. Seeing and hearing was another. For a mimic, the two were one. But as it spent more time with Hal, it began to differentiate the two.

Unlike most creatures, mimics didn’t need to look at anything in particular to see. Like most of its arcana-class brethren, a mimic had magical sight that relied on a type of “magical mist” for lack of a better description.

Provided there was some connection between one area and the next, the mimic could see uninterrupted for around 60 feet.

But the vault ahead of Vorax was completely sealed off. As soon as Hal touched it, the mimic lost all sight of its best friend. And so the mimic began to worry.

It rattled its lid and bumped into ankles, all to no avail. It opened wide its lid and showed the wondrous glittering trinkets and baubles that humans were so entranced by – a love Vorax shared – but none of them would come out of their stupor.

Even the floating death angel was gone.

Vorax was smarter than most mimics, the basic fleshgorgers. Treasuregorgers, on the other hand, were refined and thoughtful creatures. The aristocracy of the mimic monster hierarchy. Vorax, as a mixed-breed was an omnigorger. His diet consisted mostly of loot, but he could eat anything in a pinch.

At any point, he could have eaten one of these people that were now frozen in front of him. Held in check by some unknown magic. But he considered them family and as the ungainly relations that would be looked down upon everywhere by monster-kind, it was Vorax’s duty to make sure they were kept safe.

And so the mimic hopped about behind the group, rattling its lid, and sweeping its long purple spiked tongue about in the air to scare off any potential predators. Of which the mimic detected many.

They came on anxiously and slowly at first. Twisted creatures that bore no resemblance to anything Vorax ever encountered. Though Hal communicated with Vorax, he was akin to an infant, a tiny jewel box of a mimic in Vorax’s mind, most monsters communicated at a much higher level.

For the human, Vorax dumbed its communication to images and emotions that he thought Hal would understand.

The rapid-fire exchange that happened as the twisted dark creatures approached sensing an easy meal was unlike anything a non-monster –and thus an impaired being that should be pitied – would ever know.

Vorax and the creatures held a conversation that took all of a few seconds but within that discussion were philosophical debates about killing people. Particularly those that couldn’t fight back.

Pro-person was a pretty risky stance to take as a monster.

Until just recently, Vorax would have sided with the twisted things called vorclars. But he had seen Hal’s genuine concern up close.

When Vorax was at his weakest from weeks of starvation and about to be murdered by a hated aberration he had the misfortune of running into, it was Hal who saved him.

A person. And even stranger, one that was able to converse with him – albeit on a simple level – with the oddest desire to protect and help Vorax.

It challenged all of Vorax’s worldviews.

Over time he came to see the same potential in the people Hal traveled with. And though Vorax understood Hal was not a monster, even though at times he wore the guise of one, he didn’t hold that failing against him.

For monsters, killing people was a moral imperative.

People were cruel and evil, they destroyed the world. They caused the Manastorms that brought truly foul creations into the world and disturbed the natural order. They built houses instead of living in caves.

They sat on chairs. And ate at tables. Disgusting.

On and on the debate went (though it really only took seconds) and though Vorax was sure he could eventually win them over, he noticed one of them phasing through the wall to his left, coming out near Ashera. The one with the horns that smelled like dreary rain on a dark night.

Vorax could not let such blatant trickery – and poorly executed at that – go by unpunished. As an omnigorger, he looked like the more prestigious treasuregorger – which may have made these creatures bolder than was wise – but he had all the biting teeth and strength of a fleshgorger. Those ravenous boxes that devoured monster and human alike.

With Hal’s help, Vorax had grown strong on expensive treasures and items. These creatures were nothing to him.

A purple pseudopod whipped out from the gleaming chest and latched onto the creature just exiting the stone wall. The sticky appendage struck the twisted form of the creature and Vorax yanked it away from his vulnerable friends.

Three more pseudopods sprang to life and lashed out at the underhanded invaders. Two of them leaped aside, but Vorax snared one of them and drew both it and the one at the wall into his waiting maw.

If the vorclars were scared, they didn’t show it. With a few hefty bites, the mimic dispatched the two creatures easily and turned to face down the remaining two vorclars.

They made the mistake of turning and fleeing. Any proper monster would never show its back to another they just threatened.

Examples had to be made after all.

Rather than lash out with tentacles or teeth, Vorax summoned its innate extradimensional powers to form a sphere of nothingness in its gut. The mimic spat it back out, encased in a thin layer of its own mana; so that when the shimmering orb of nothingness landed between the fleeing creatures, the thin sheen of mana popped like a soap bubble.

Any mimic worth its salt is capable of creating extradimensional pockets. Most creatures feared a mimic’s teeth or tentacles, or something else equally as scary.

Few truly understood the devastating force of releasing a small extradimensional pocket and then letting it collapse upon itself. The sudden shift in the pressure of the collapsing nothingness created a powerful shockwave that could rip most creatures to ribbons.

The poor vorclars noticed the orb too late. As it popped, their twisted forms were shredded and painted across the walls of the cavern.

Never one to let a good meal go to waste, Vorax ambled up to the abstract art it had made on the walls, took a moment to appreciate its work, and then lapped up the remains.

Plop. Plorp, plop, came a sound down the tunnel and Vorax’s mood instantly brightened. It recognized that springy, goopy sound anywhere. He had been silently calling to the thing for days now. All but sure the little pink blob was forever lost.

A small pink slime exited from the wall nearby and began to happily return to Vorax, its master.

Slimes, by the large, were stupid (but lovable) things. More animal than monster, they didn’t have brains in the traditional sense but were not mindless. Though they were undeniably adorable, they had a tendency to eat and devour everything they came into contact with.

This was a particular issue with treasuregorger mimics as slimes would sometimes eat their food. And you never wanted food that was in a slime.

In his youth, Vorax had befriended a small pink runty slime. This slime, in particular, was smarter than most. It took well to commands and thoughts imparted to it.

It was a joyous reunion. Vorax had plenty of metal and items it didn’t want, items that a slime would gleefully digest for him. If more mimics were smart, they too would have a slime for a pet.

Vorax thought the little bugger lost when the great schism sent his old home tumbling into the dark depths. The slime bounced all around the mimic and then was invited inside.

To the casual observer, it may have looked like the mimic ate the slime. Not so. The slime preferred to live inside Vorax’s extensive network of extradimensional pockets it referred to as its stomach.

Just in time too. A second later a powerful welling of mana burst out in an azure wave. Vorax instinctively knew this would kill him, or at least harm him in some way but he had no defenses against it.

He was surprised when the azure wave of energy washed over him without so much as a tickle. Strange.

All of the many monsters it could detect in the distance were, however, suddenly gone. The mimic understood that it had been spared, likely as a result of Hal. That most curious of humans.

Seeing this as a golden opportunity to devour more loot, the humble mimic hurried off down the tunnel and veered left.

Vorax gained another Level from the loot he picked up along that barren stretch of tunnel. When he returned to the vault, he watched with much joy as Hal stepped out of the door like it was no more a barrier to him than air.

His eyes fell upon Vorax and the mimic excitedly hopped over to his most favorite person in all the realms.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Hal said to the mimic.

Vorax imparted his pleasure at seeing Hal and pressed his polished wooden body into the man. His steel bandings were replaced with silver now and though most wouldn’t have noticed, Hal did.

“You got stronger I see,” he said with a laugh.

At that moment, the Dark One that followed Hal around emerged from the vault and all of Vorax’s extended family seemed to wake from their stasis. The Dark One, Hal referred to as Noth, looked around with red-rimmed eyes.

Vorax could smell the change in the woman though he didn’t fully understand the particulars, nor did he care to. All Vorax knew was that his family had grown by two members that day.

92

Even without any monsters to fight and nothing else blocking their way, it took them just over half the day to exit the winding tunnels that coiled upon themselves within the mountain stronghold.

Hal had his suspicions that Vorax had already scouted ahead and cleared the way a bit. The mimic was entirely too pleased with itself. And it was more than a couple of Levels higher than he remembered.

There were a few tense moments when Hal and Noth first came out of the Vault. For the rest of his party time had seemingly stopped. So when Noth and Hal emerged, they immediately thought she was an enemy.

Some quick talking on Hal’s part diffused the situation, and Noth was added to the party shortly thereafter. Between Ashera, Elora, and Mira they managed to find serviceable clothing for the erstwhile Reaper.

While they wandered the tunnels, Hal and Noth told of the battle within the Vault and all the relevant parts that transpired. The delicate nature of what Thirty-seven and Hal were, not to mention their relationship to Rinbast was kept secret.

This made for some… creative storytelling as Hal was vehemently opposed to omitting Thirty-seven’s sacrifice and all the good he did. Instead, Hal gave him the name of Alquist and merely glossed over the true nature of the man and where he came from.

To Hal, that didn’t matter. What did matter was what Alquist did with his life and the immense good he tried to enact.

He felt more than a little guilty when he got Level in Persuasion, and he felt a lot worse when he gained several Levels in an entirely new skill: Deception.

Your Persuasion has risen to Level 8.

+1% Persuasion success (+8%).

+0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (+4.0%).

You have unlocked Deception (Level 0).

The favorite skill of dark elves and conniving merchants alike, Deception affords you the ability to weave your own truth. The dark elves have a saying, “when all around you is a web of lies, the truth is what you choose to make.” Those skilled in Deception are able to make their own realities and furthermore, convince others of their veracity.

Your Deception has risen to Level 1.

…

Your Deception has risen to Level 4.

+1% Deception success (+4%).

+0.5% Deception awareness (+2.0%).

-0.5% Reputation loss (-2.0%).

They came to yet another Founder’s door.

“What do you think is beyond the door?” Ashera asked.

Hal looked over his shoulder at them. “Either there’s going to be a dozen guards trying to break down the door and kill us, or we’ll be smack in the middle of a - hopefully empty now that the Manatree is working - horrific monster’s nest.”

With those pleasant thoughts, Hal pressed his palm to the insignia and opened the door.

They all stepped into the lightless interior. Hal swept the room with his eyes, just as surprised as the rest of his party when he discovered nothing. No threats. No guards or monsters or some horrible abomination waiting to get the jump on them now that their grueling journey was almost at an end.

Nothing. It was an empty room, a little worse for wear. Roots dangled all over the ceiling and the walls had large cracks in them but it had the feeling of old damage, so they didn’t fear a sudden collapse.

One by one, they filtered out into the room and squeezed past the roots clogging the doorway to the hallway beyond. It didn’t take them long to realize they were not in the Coffin District anymore. Old tunnels crisscrossed ahead of them like some sort of prohibition-era smuggling network.

They were so eager to quit the dark confines of the mountain that they skipped making camp again and pressed for many more hours. It wasn’t much of a surprise to any of them when they finally emerged from the oppressive lightless tunnels to see stars in the sky.

Each of them took deep lungfuls of fresh air, reveling in the chill breeze and the openness before them. They were partway up the northern foothills leading to the low rounded mountain that was Murkmire.

Hal gasped, seeing the open sky for the first time without any obscuring clouds. A deep gleaming orange-red blade of light arced high above and cut the sky into two neat sections.

“Beautiful, is it not?” Ashera said, following his eyes. “The bandlight is very pretty this time of year. In the winter it turns blue-silver.”

A distant purple moon hung in the night sky and near it a closer pale red that orbited it. A third moon hung in the sky, large as a harvest moon and just as familiar as the one back on Earth. For some reason seeing that comforted him.

He knew it wasn’t Earth’s moon. That was impossible. But seeing the similarity felt like a little piece of home.

Unfortunately, they were all so happy to finally be out of the dark tunnels that they entirely forgot about where they were. And in the few moments they took for themselves, they were surrounded by a band of individuals that clearly did not take well to their smuggler tunnels being used.

A young man approached wearing dark ruffled clothes, a dark cloth pulled up over his nose and mouth like an old western bandit. A bandolier gleamed with half a dozen throwing daggers across his chest. “What’ve we here?” he asked in a strong rolling accent.

With his Shadesight lighting the scene, Hal could see over a dozen similarly black-clad folk coming around the low lying hills around them. What stood out most to him, however, was how short they all were.

Elora began to step forward but Hal barred her with an outstretched arm and took her place. He was tired, weary, and absolutely done with people protecting him or fighting his battles for him.

“These your tunnels?” he asked the man that spoke.

“Might’n be,” he hedged.

Hal shook his head. “Get your leader then,” he snapped. “I don’t have time to deal with underlings.”

If they had to fight, they would fight, but he was so tired of there being yet another obstacle that his patience was worn thin.

The man’s blue eyes shot open and he began to say something but another similarly clad individual walked out of the group and put a hand on the man’s shoulder.

This man was older with a darker complexion and the most striking pair of burnished bronze eyes Hal had ever seen.

He chuckled good-naturedly. “Ye seem to have us at a bit of a… shall we say, disadvantage. We ain’t a group of knives ready to stab an’ poke each of ye as some might be doin’. But yer not fer knowin’ that when ye came outta that tunnel. And friend, I’m mighty particular about who shares me tunnels.”

Hal nodded. This was the man he wanted to talk to.

He looked at the man and realized a few things. What he took to be a trick of perspective from looking down on the group was, in fact, no trick at all. The broad-chested man was somewhere between four and five feet tall. His stout frame and thick accent made Hal realize what he was.

As much as Hal wanted to act like a diplomat and leader, he blurted out, “You’re a dwarf.”

That appeared to be the wrong thing to say. Several weapons were drawn by the men and women forming a half-circle at the base of the hillside. The fiery bandlight gleamed across their finely crafted weapons.

“Careful, friend,” said the bronze-eyed man. “If ye know what’s good fer ye.”

Hal raised a hand. “I mean no disrespect. Where I come from dwarves are renowned for their skill with hammer, chisel, pick, and anvil. Expert miners, impeccable smiths of the finest weaponry, armor, and jewelry known across the realms.” Hal paused for added effect and looked over each of them in turn. “Are you ashamed of your heritage then?”

Where did that come from? Elora and even Ashera turned to look at Hal like he was somebody else. He rarely had such a way with words. He returned their looks with a shrug, assuming Oathforger had something to do with it.

That brought a great many grumbling voices, thick and bassy as if the mountain itself was offended.

“Things ain’t quite the way as yer home ‘round ‘ere,” said their leader. He shrugged and pulled off the dust mask, revealing a close shaved bronze beard.

Impressive all the same but nothing like the long-bearded dwarves he expected. The man tilted his chin up and dared Hal to make fun of his beard.

Hal knew better.

“That’s a shame,” Hal said. He was sincere too. Not that it hurt to win them over a little. “As you can probably tell, I’m fairly new to the area. And lost. Why aren’t you taking up residence in Murkmire? I’m sure they accept dwarves readily enough.”

Hal’s memory felt sharper than ever. He recalled small guild symbols in each of the shops and smithies they passed. While there were dwarves in the city, he couldn’t directly recall many of them being craftsmen.

The dwarf bristled and crossed his thick arms over his chest. “I’m hearin’ a lot o’ talk and not a lot ‘o explainin’ why yer folk were in me tunnels.”

He thought he had the measure of them well enough. These were either dwarven merchants or craftsmen and they were using the tunnels – which must lead into Murkmire somewhere in that maze – to smuggle in their goods.

The problem was evident. Hal and his group were either rivals that wanted to use the same tunnels, or they were citizens that had seen too much and would report them the instant they could.

In either case, they were quickly headed toward conflict. And Hal wasn’t keen on fighting a dozen or more sturdy dwarves. Not to mention it seemed like such a waste.

They would need a show of faith. Something that would clearly mark Hal as an outlaw like them. Even then, this was likely to devolve into a battle.

If he showed them his mark, either they would take him seriously or they would kill him. In either event, the outcome wasn’t much worse than their current odds.

Hal took a few steps forward and held up his left arm. He pulled back the sleeve and angled his forearm so everybody could clearly see the glowing gold and moonlit mark on it. He stopped about five paces from the leader and lowered his arm so he could inspect it closer. “I think we may have more in common than you think,” Hal said.

“By the stones,” the dwarf muttered, peering a little too intently at the mark. He licked a thick finger and pressed it - none too gently - against Hal’s forearm, smearing damp soot all over the mark. “Ye weren’t foolin’.” His bronze eyes looked up at Hal, then drifted back to Hal’s friends. “Ye found this one here, did ye?”

Elora nodded, coming up alongside Hal. “He’s real.”

That seemed good enough for the dwarf.

He put two fingers to his mouth, blew a shrill whistle and the rest of the dwarves that had been sneaking up on them under cover of shifting color-blending cloaks revealed themselves. What Hal had first thought as a dozen opponents quickly swelled to three times that many.

They lowered their weapons, holstering them and going about their business over the crest of the hills to either side. “Ye got some heavy stones to go flashin’ that mark around like that ye know?” The dwarf leader stepped up and clapped Hal on the back, guiding him down to a small campsite along the base of a hill. “Name’s Durvin Bouldergut, and this here’s me Clan. Ye got a name boy?”

“Hal.”

Your Leadership has risen to Level 14(19).

+1% Party damage (+19%).

+2% Leadership efficacy (+38%).

Your Persuasion has risen to Level 9.

+1% Persuasion success (+9%).

+0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (+4.5%).

Durvin thumped him on the chest, “We got ourselves a lot to talk about. Stay the night, rest up. Ye’ll be safe with Clan Bouldergut watchin’ yer back or I’m a bearded gnome!”

93

Noth had taken it upon herself to act as Hal’s bodyguard. All the way back to Clan Bouldergut’s camp she stayed close to Hal, like a second shadow.

The camp was unlike anything Hal expected.

North of Murkmire, many of the hills were more than half as large as the old mountain the Sanctuary rested upon. Rather than a ramshackle camp with a fire going and tents, Hal found several large grassy humps tightly clustered halfway up a large hill.

Or a small mountain. It was hard to tell.

From the distance, it looked like a necklace of browning grass. As Hal came closer he realized what they were: Barrows. Their entrances faced inward so that as Hal climbed the hillside, he couldn’t see any campsite at first.

Only once they passed through one of the narrow gaps between the barrows did Hal see the large gathering of dwarves. Many low fires burned inside the squat round barrows and several of the dwarves were geared in more typical attire. Heavy mail shirts, thick plate armor, and many axes.

Durvin slapped Hal on the back, nearly toppling him to the ground in front of the entire Bouldergut Clan. “Welcome to me Clan’s home away from home.” He pointed to a mound of grass with a stone-cut doorway and several figures inside the brightly lit chamber. “Have a seat at me table, yer all guests o’ mine tonight!”

The boisterous dwarf struck off to go explain the strange newcomers to some of the onlookers, leaving Hal alone with his party.

“Are you sure that was wise?” Noth asked before any of the others could get close enough to hear.

“It was the only choice I had. From what Alquist showed me… there’s a lot more hate for the Founder and the people he put in power than would meet the eye. It’s all there, simmering under the surface. They’re all looking for somebody to make things right.”

The Reaper looked him up and down. “And are you the one to do that?”

Hal opened his mouth to answer but shut it as the others arrived. He later realized that he didn’t have an answer.

“Ballsy move,” Mira said, slapping Hal on the shoulder. “Never thought I’d be sharing a table with a dwarf, let alone be invited to one.”

“Racism?” Hal asked.

The elf crumpled her brow in confusion. “What? No! They’re just super insular and rarely leave the mountains. There’s a few in Murkmire but they’re an entirely different breed. The sort that go out and sell the wares of their clan but don’t ‘belong’ to the clan itself. If that makes sense.”

“No,” Hal said. “Not really.”

“You’ll see what I mean.” Mira patted him on the shoulder again and left to go talk to a pair of dwarves that barely came up to her navel.

Hal turned his questioning gaze to Elora.

She looked around the camp, her keen eyes marking their number and how many guards they had posted. Elora gave a curt nod of respect. “Let’s go see what they want. If they didn’t kill us because you’re a Founder, maybe we’ve found some allies.”

For once the Ranger had a hint of a smile on her usually dour features. It looked good on her.

Each of them looked worse for wear. They all sported severe damage to their armor and much of their clothing was burned, ripped, torn, or otherwise soiled.

Durvin poked his head out from the brightly lit barrow. “Come on, what’re ye waitin’ fer another gul’ durned invitation?” The dwarf stomped back inside.

After a look at each of his party members, Hal followed him into the mound.

The air was filled with the wondrous scents of roasted meat, smoked ham, savory stews, and freshly baked bread. Hal’s mouth watered the instant his nose picked up the familiar and delicious scents.

There were several tables filled with a feast fit for three times the number of burly dwarves seated there. A quick count gave Hal roughly five dozen of the sturdy folk and many more were outside.

Being the clan’s leader, Hal expected Durvin to seat himself at an elevated table or one that was better set than the rest. If anything, his table boasted more nicks and deep cut notches than the others.

The bronze-bearded dwarf raised a hand to signal them over to the empty seats on either side of him.

“Thanks,” Hal said, taking a seat and looking at the dozens of platters filled with food. None of it was fancy or dressed up. But that didn’t matter to Hal. The food was delicious and was one of the best things he tasted since arriving on Aldim.

Even better than Ashera’s cooking, he realized. Not that he would ever tell her.

It was the dwarven equivalent of a barbecue cookout. Roasted meats slathered in rich smoky sauces, paired with hearty root vegetables that were similar to potatoes, but had a crunch to them even though they were cooked and sliced.

And of course, there was beer, or as Durvin put it, “dwarven holy water.” Which was mandatory to drink as a toast at the start of the meal and another at the end.

The brew was foamy and rich, one whiff of it nearly burned Hal’s nose hairs down to the roots. The thought had crossed his mind that maybe they would poison him. But they had Hal outnumbered at least ten to one. There were easier ways to kill or subdue him if they wanted.

Besides, Hal felt he had a good read on Durvin Bouldergut. The man didn’t seem like the sort to poison anybody. He was just as boisterous and loud as Hal hoped. The dwarf was remarkably blunt with his honesty.

At first, Noth resisted the urge to eat. But even Hal could see the way she looked longingly at the slabs of ribs coated in a thick red sauce. She managed to abstain from eating all day even when offered some food as they marched but nobody could convince her to take a bite.

When it came to risking offense to Clan Bouldergut or continuing her hunger strike, Noth broke down for the ‘good of the group’ she said. She took a tentative sip and then drained the metal tankard in one long draw.

That, more than anything, made the rowdy dwarves cheer and hoot. They slapped the table in a raucous cheer. And before Noth knew it, she was getting food shoveled onto her plate.

Her resistance crumbled. Perhaps it was the alcohol that hit her so fast on an empty stomach, or maybe it was the undoubtedly scrumptious food.

In either case, she ate enough and with such vigor that even the dwarves stood up and took notice. Nobody mocked her lack of decorum. Nobody cared. Oddly enough, Noth seemed to fit in well among the dwarves.

By the end of the meal and their second “holy water,” Noth’s face was flushed and she swayed where she sat as if listening to a haunting melody nobody else could.

“Noth,” Hal said, trying to get her attention. It took him a few more tries before her drifting gaze found his. “It’s a little late but I should probably warn you about eating and particularly about drinking-”

Ashera, seated beside the Reaper, raised a hand to forestall him. “I’ll take care of it, Hal. I do believe you and our esteemed host have matters to discuss.”

With that, Ashera gently put her hands on Noth’s shoulders and guided her out of the dome with her thanks and compliments to the chefs. She began to whisper quietly into Noth’s ear as they left the mound.

But Noth, quite drunk by that point, was not so subtle about her reply. “I’ll do what in a few hours?!”

Hal watched as even Ashera’s calm features twisted into horror and she blushed fiercely, leading the Reaper even farther away.

Durvin looked to Hal for an explanation but he could only shrug. “It’s a long story. You said we had a lot to talk about, what did you have in mind?”

“Ye look a lot like a feller I used ter know,” Durvin said, eyeing Hal sharply. “Had grand plans fer Murkmire, he did.”

The dwarf didn’t miss the glance Hal made toward Elora and Mira at the table. He picked up on it and slammed a thick palm onto the table, rattling the stoneware plates and metal tankards. “But what I want ter know is what ye got planned, boy. Yer a bit young to be leading don’t ye think?”

Hal bowed his head, grateful for the change in subject. He didn’t miss the steely-eyed look that promised the two would have a private conversation later. “Would you prefer things stay the same way? What good dwarf skulks about at night and hides their beards behind dust mask bandanas?”

That struck a nerve.

Several nearby dwarves stopped cold and a hush rippled across the tables. Hal realized he had likely insulted the dwarves but he also didn’t think that Durvin would appreciate stepping around the issue.

If he was serious about forming a Sanctum, he would need as many supporters as possible. And that meant offering Clan Bouldergut a place in his Sanctum, so long as they didn’t pose any threat to his vision.

And he doubted they would.

Durvin hooted and slapped the table again. Several dwarves saw this coming and had the foresight to lift full tankards of ale off the table beforehand. “The stones on this one! Ye talk like a dwarf boy!

“That’s high praise. Ye marked us clearly enough. All this skulkin’ an’ stabbin’ ain’t fer a dwarf. But we gotta get our goods into the town one way or another! It’s our livelihood, boy! I ain’t seen another way without bendin’ a knee to them corrupt troll-kissing greedaloxes!”

Hal’s brows shot up at the mention of a greedalox. He stuffed that away for later. How exactly a dwarf came to know a goblin – or was it koblin? – word for the height of greed, Hal could only guess. But he intended to ask later.

“What if I could offer you a better way?”

94

“Big words, boy,” Durvin said. He took a long draw on his tankard then wiped the foam from his beard with the back of his hand. “Keep talkin’ though.”

Hal looked around. He’d never seen a barrow personally but he read about them long ago. Several games featured them pretty heavily – as did many books – so he had a good idea how far the dwarves must have fallen to be using them as a camp.

A lot of work was done to keep them relatively liveable. They were a far cry from a proper campsite or even a ramshackle town. No doubt they were more comfortable here than outside but how comfortable could you be sleeping atop the buried bones of the dead?

“What do you do when the Manastorms come?” Hal asked.

“We high tail it into the tunnels ‘neath Murkmire. Not far in is protected by the Manatree and we’re safe enough fer a time. Got a couple o’ rooms to serve as caches when a Manastorm comes on in a rush,” Durvin said.

“Would they turn you away at the gates?” Elora asked, clearly disturbed by the thought.

The dwarf shook his head. His long bronzed hair bounced with the motion. “I don’t think the dogs would do that, no. But the time it would take… we’re far from the gates.” He shrugged his large shoulders and then gave Elora a deeper look. “Ye got the look about ye lass. Ye seen a ‘storm or two I reckon.”

Elora gave a nod.

“Then ye be knowin’ it ain’t that easy. They come on in a flash sometimes, yer either quick or yer dead.”

“So you stay out here?” Hal asked, trying to understand a little more.

“Sometimes,” Durvin hedged. “We come down from the Anvil up north where we make the durned stuff we’re tryin’ to sell. Few months outta the year us lucky sods get to ferry the goods to Murkmire. Sell at a steep discount to some shady little knives-” He spit to the side, showing how he felt about them. “-then haul our coin back home.

“Ain’t no safe haven closer to us than Murkmire. So what ye got that can beat that, boy? I hear a lotto questions, but not much in the way of answerin’. So tell me plainly: What ye got for me and mine?”

Hal nodded, that was fair. He wondered as much but he didn’t know for sure. The barrows didn’t quite have a lived-in look to them. They were dressed up as much as they could for comfort but they were a camouflage first and foremost.

“It’s unlikely that the council of Murkmire or Rinbast for that matter would look too kindly on you perched right outside the door, sneaking in and selling contraband,” Hal ventured.

He raised his hand to forestall the angry outburst he saw building in their dwarven host. “I am not threatening you, merely making an observation. You are, simply put, not welcome in Murkmire. At least not without debasing yourselves in a way unbecoming of a dwarf.”

Several beards bounced as Hal spoked, many of the dwarves in the nearby tables had stopped talking and were nodding along with him. It was strangely effortless to grab their attention. And all the while he managed not to stick his foot into his mouth.

Your Leadership has risen to Level 15(20).

+1% Party damage (+20%).

+2% Leadership efficacy (+40%).

Your Persuasion has risen to Level 10.

+1% Persuasion success (+10%).

+0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (+5.0%).

+5% Reputation gain (+10%).

-2% Reputation loss (-4%).

You have 1 Persuasion Perk point awaiting assignment.

Now most definitely was not the time, so Hal mentally dismissed the notification.

“I would offer you something better,” Hal continued. “An offer that I extend to each of the clans back at your home.”

Mira leaned in, a curious light in her violet eyes. “How do you survive without a Manatree? Up in the mountains I mean.”

Durvin leaned back and crossed his thickset arms over his stout chest. His heavy boots thudded onto the table and his chair rocked back onto two legs. “Heh. Lass, ye ever seen a ‘storm ‘neath the mountain? There’s yer answer.” He turned to Hal. “Mighty big of ye to be offerin’ nothin’ but fancy words. Now I won’t be hearin’ another word until you tell me just what ye be offerin’.”

Leaning forward onto his elbows, Hal hoped that the dwarves in this world were as hungry for a challenge and eager to create as those he read about. If not, his whole plan might backfire.

He took a steadying breath and looked into those burnished bronze eyes. “How would you like to build a Sanctum from the ground up?”

What little murmuring there was died down immediately. Durvin’s feet slipped off the table and the dwarf’s chair slammed back down with a bone-rattling shake.

He gave Hal the most wide-eyed hungry stare the man had ever seen in his life. There it is.

Relief washed over Hal. For a moment he thought he made a grave error. To anybody who didn’t live for the thrill of creation as dwarves seemed to, Hal’s question might have come off as incredibly arrogant. Downright insulting to some.

But to the mind of a dwarf, he hoped that creating a brand new Sanctum was enough of a monumental task. Something that would stand as a testament to their stonework for ages, a task that they would gladly spend years toiling to make perfect.

He knew it was manipulating them. Knew it and didn’t much care. Especially considering the effect the simple question had on them. Considering the good they would be doing and the gain the clan would get as one of the first citizens of the Sanctum.

When he envisioned a Sanctum being built, he expected timber and thatch houses going up around a small sapling of a Manatree. Humble beginnings that would likely take longer than a lifetime to build into a proper city.

But after meeting the dwarves he began to wonder if he was dreaming too small.

What if, with the dwarves' help, he could build something truly wondrous? Something worthy of dwarven craftsmanship.

He dared to hope.

It took Durvin a long moment to collect himself and put on a proper face. But he knew he had let the mask slip. “Ye come here, into me own home, eat me food and sit at me table and then have the stones to offer work? Boy, give me one reason not to kill ye dead right where ye stand.”

Hal saw through the bluster, the brave front that hid the hunger in the dwarf’s eyes. He grinned back at the dwarf and without missing a beat, said, “Because you’ll never get another opportunity to make your mark on the world like this.” He motioned vaguely to the north. “Your halls of stone deep within your mountains are no doubt glorious. But how many people see their splendor?

“How long would such works last out in the wilds where the Manastorms wreak havoc? But a Sanctum is protected. It would stand as a monument to your skill… but if you’re telling me Clan Bouldergut isn’t up to the task then I can accept that.”

He just couldn’t resist twisting the knife into their pride.

“By Dagdamora boy!” Durvin bellowed, hopping to his feet and bouncing around spewing insults. “Ye cantankerous, anvil-dropping, thumb-bashing, lantern-lugging, milk-drinking, durned tool-snatching cave troll!” His face grew redder with each insult. The dwarf came around to Hal’s chair so fast that he didn’t even have time to react.

Durvin yanked Hal from his seat and pulled him into a rib-cracking hug, then yanked the much taller man down to eye level and planted a wet kiss on his forehead. “Ye know how to press me buttons better than if’n ye were me own kin!”

Once released, Hal fell back onto the seat of his pants and stared in disbelief at the dwarf. He only caught one out of every three of the insults but Hal got the gist of it. “So….” Hal began but as soon as he spoke up Durvin turned a bone-melting glare his way.

“Ye got yerself a deal, boy! By Dagdamora yer a mad one! Ain’t nobody with less hairs on their chin than me ever spoke a word to me face like ye did.” He reached over and pulled Hal up onto his feet. “Ye got yerself a deal!”

The bronze-haired dwarf leaped onto the table in a single bound – no small feat for such a compact frame – and bellowed to the room. “More holy water! We got ourselves a Quest lads and lasses!”

Clan Bouldergut Reputation: +5,500 (Beardless Dwarf).

In a very short period of time, you’ve managed to endear yourself to the patron and leader of the Bouldergut Clan. Provided you can back up your wild claims, you have made significant inroads with the dwarven clan. They will help and aid you where they can, though know they think of you as a child of their kind. That is no small feat as few outsiders are given such an honor.

Dwarves rushed about filling tankards and handing them out. Large towering casks of “holy water” were brought in, tapped, and summarily drained throughout the night.

Hal drank more than even his freshman year at college and after the third tankard found the foul brew to be quite pleasant with a clean citrusy finish. Mira was the first to retire. Which meant she fell face-first onto the table in the middle of a rousing retelling of how they fought the Shoggoth Spore.

Each time she told it the thing got larger and larger. Hal’s brave feat of rescuing her and laying down his own life in the process became more flamboyant and heroic with each retelling.

Elora drank as much, if not more than Hal but seemed to tolerate it better by far. She was quiet for most of the night until her fifth tankard. Then she became the most pleasant company anybody could ask for.

She sang, quipped jokes, and generally was a joy to be around.

The Ranger’s flushed cheeks and beet-red ears were a sight to see. Ashera returned later in the night but only to fetch Elora and take her away to get some sleep.

Late into the night Hal and Durvin – and many of the other dwarves as well, names that Hal couldn’t keep straight by that point – talked and joked and took turns insulting each other until finally, Hal hit his limit.

He was still semi-conscious when his forehead smacked into the table.

“Easy with the boy there lads,” Durvin’s voice floated in the dark. “Take ‘im to the lasses so he can rest his head. Mind that he don’t puke on ye!” The last thing Hal remembered was hearing Durvin’s deep rumbling laugh.

95

Hal awoke the next morning to the sound of hushed voices. He was resting on something soft, though quite scratchy. Pieces of straw poked through the bedding he was resting upon, ruining any chances of him being able to get back to sleep.

Getting up, he realized where he was for the first time.

Hanging cloth dividers created a rudimentary room where Hal was alone with his straw pallet and not much else. Pushing aside the curtain that served as a door, Hal found several more “rooms” set up in similar fashion encircling a common area in the center.

Each member of his party was already gathered around the low-burning cookfire. It looked like breakfast was just getting started. Noth, having gotten over her fear of eating, was staring hungrily into the cast iron skillet of sizzling bacon.

“He’s up,” Mira said. Her voice felt like a hammer taken to his skull.

You suffer the effect of Hungover.

-25% HP Regeneration.

-25% MP Regeneration.

+20% Damage Taken.

-5 AGI | -5 DEX | -10 CHR.

-7 Perception | -10 Leadership | -10 Persuasion.

Sounds about right, he thought.

“Not so loud,” he muttered, one hand pressed to his head. Even the light of the cookfire – dim though it was – hurt his eyes. “Too much holy water.”

“No such thing, boy!” Durvin roared, coming into the smaller barrow that housed the group. If Mira’s voice was a hammer, Durvin’s was a jackhammer. “Ye got a long way to go afore ye go toe-to-toe with a dwarf in a drink-off! By the end o’ the night, I could hardly understand a word ye said. Now’s the time to be hearin’ more about this bright idea o’ yers.”

Hal immediately turned around and tried to go back to bed. It was too early, though judging by the light coming in through the arched entryway it was well past midday, and Durvin was far too loud.

Mira was at his side in a wink and he didn’t possess the strength to shrug her off. Not that having a hangover made any difference. The Dragoon could overpower him on his best day if he wasn’t using Splice to channel essence. And even then, he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d fare against the woman.

Forced to take a seat on a log fashioned into a bench across from Durvin, Hal tried to remind himself he was talking to an important man. A man who likely could snap his spine in half without much effort.

Without Hal’s hefty CHR and Leadership bonuses, he was at a severe disadvantage. The glint in Durvin’s bronze eyes suggested the dwarf had set this all up on purpose.

Crafty bugger, he thought with a wry grin. The dwarven leader was smarter than he looked. That was good.

Hal ran a tongue over his fuzzy feeling teeth, his gaze unfocused as he tried to look around for something to drink to rinse the horrible taste from his mouth.

Ashera pressed a tankard into his hands. When Hal looked at it suspiciously, she gave him a coy smile. “It’s just water.”

Muttering a word of thanks, Hal drained it in one go. He could barely taste anything but even with his lack of functioning tastebuds, Hal could tell it was not ordinary water. There was something tannic in it that had a bite.

You drink: [Revitalizing Remedy].

You gain the effect of Minor Restoration.

You no longer suffer from Hungover.

Keenly aware that Durvin was watching him intently, Hal half-lidded his eyes and did his best to mimic the fatigue and general malaise from just a few seconds ago.

Whatever Ashera put in this, she could make a mint selling back on Earth. Heck, people could probably use it here too.

Hal cleared his throat a few times, as he imitated trying to focus his eyes on Durvin. “What more is there?” he asked.

The dwarf gave him a once over and nodded, buying the act it would seem. He was only fully convinced once he received the notification.

Your Deception has risen to Level 5.

+1% Deception success (+4%).

+0.5% Deception awareness (+2.5%).

-0.5% Reputation loss (-2.5%).

+1.5% Deception success for each person you have told the same lie to (+1.5%).

Of course there would be more to talk about. The Clan Leader had agreed to the broad strokes but without any particulars, nothing would get done.

There was still the matter of the koblins, getting supplies, and Murkmire’s Coffin District to settle but once that was done there would be nothing holding him here anymore.

The dwarves and his group would need somewhere to live while working on the Sanctum. They’d need a Manaseed. Which they didn’t have – though Hal did have a lead on one – and they would presumably need some sort of recompense for their work. And likely a dozen more different specifics Hal couldn’t think of.

Hal didn’t need to fake the headache he felt coming on as he pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

The tired, weary look he gave Durvin set the older dwarf back a bit. He cleared his throat and when he spoke it was far gentler than Hal expected. “Me clan makes a pittance on these items. But the clans back at the Anvil rely on this trade. One of many, don’t ye doubt, but valuable all the same. Ye get what I mean boy?”

He was about to answer when he realized it was a test. Had he still been hungover the suggestion would have been entirely lost on him. Hal would have to make an offer that was – monetarily at least – as good or better than what they got from their trade with Murkmire.

As he didn’t have any idea about the economy of such actions, the confused look he gave Durvin wasn’t faked.

The dwarf slapped his knee and Hal put on a wincing expression. “Not so loud,” he said softly.

“Humans,” Durvin said with a snort. “Can’t handle yerselves. What I’m saying is, unless ye can gift us with somethin’ that we can take back to the Anvil, I can’t bring me whole clan just like that.” He snapped his thick fingers to accentuate the point.

“At best I could send a few o’ me more hearty adventurous folk. A half-dozen, perhaps. But they won’t be much help when ye be needing to make a home.”

Hal thought about it for a moment. He had a fair amount of sparks on him at the moment and plenty of items he hadn’t yet been able to sell or trade for. In fact, his inventory was practically overflowing.

Maybe there was a way he could fill the dwarves’ coffers while simultaneously dealing with his inventory bloat and his severely damaged gear.

“I’ve got an idea,” Hal said.

“Oh, another one?” Durvin asked. “Go on then, spill it.”

“How much do you make on each sale through your intermediaries and after you’ve paid off the City Guard, and whoever else you bribe?”

Durvin’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m not fer likin’ where this is leadin’.”

“Just bear with me. You make a fraction of what they’re actually worth, right?”

“Still make a decent profit,” Durvin countered. “But maybe ye got yerself a point. What of it?”

Hal looked around at each of his party members. No one was untouched by the countless fighting. Most of them sported large gaps in their armor if their armor worked at all.

Each of them was heavily torn up and Hal could guess that the repairs alone would likely cost as much as a new set of gear.

Not to mention the Coffin Contract paid very well.

At 20,000 sparks per party member, they had a collective 100,000 to their names. Add to that what Hal, Elora, and Ashera possessed and he suspected they were at least half again as wealthy.

And that didn’t even begin to touch on selling the loot they acquired or the sparks Vorax-

Hal started and looked around frantically for Vorax. He hadn’t explained the mimic to the dwarves and he doubted the sturdy folk took well to surprises.

Once again, it was Ashera that had arranged for everything. She gave him a soft smile, a gentle touch, and subtly directed his attention toward several sacks. Stuffed among much of their things was Vorax. He looked like nothing more than a promising treasure chest.

Good.

“What if we traded with your clan?” Hal asked, composing himself once more. “Each of us has a hefty amount of sparks to spend and we’ve got plenty of loot from our recent adventure. I’m sure between the trade and money we can offer at least an equivalence to what you’d get from Murkmire.

“If not more. And besides, imagine what rich veins of untapped ore you might find in the mountains near our newfound Sanctum.”

That last bit made Durvin’s eyes grow wide with wonder. He covered it up quickly. “That’s another thing,” he said. “Ye haven’t told me where ye plan on this newfangled Sanctum bein’ placed. We can’t march off without knowing where we’re headed!”

With a look at each of his friends, he leveled a steady gaze at the dwarf. “The Shiverglades.”

This time the older dwarf couldn’t hide his shock. His mouth hung open for a long moment. “Ye daft, boy. The Shiverglades is death itself!”

“So I’ve heard,” Hal said, putting on his most confident face. “Is the courage of the dwarves not all that I’ve heard?”

“Oh ye a keen one,” Durvin spat. “Dangling the carrot with one hand and proddin’ with that stick o’ yers with the other! I got half a mind to show ye where ye can shove that stick if’n ye ain’t careful.”

Your Leadership has risen to Level 16(21).

+1% Party damage (+21%).

+2% Leadership efficacy (+42%).

Your Persuasion has risen to Level 11.

+1% Persuasion success (+11%).

+0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (+5.5%).

Hal smiled at the blustering dwarf. With his CHR, Persuasion, and Leadership restored, he felt confident in his ability to bring Durvin around. To show him the untapped potential of a land untamed.

96

They talked for a long while, breakfast was served and still, they talked.

The surly dwarf had made many harrowing treks in his long life. He understood that a great number of supplies would be needed to make the dangerous trip if the majority of Clan Bouldergut was going with Hal to the Shiverglades.

As Hal feared, it was going to be costly. Very costly.

More than half of what the dwarves made went into traveling expenses. With so many mouths to feed and without skilled hunters to bring in food, they had to load up with countless supplies.

So many supplies necessitated the need for large wagons and beasts of burden – many of which didn’t make the trek for any number of reasons – and the list went on.

“Luggin’ that many folk around is slow business,” Durvin said. “Once there was a Great Road that was bein’ built. Folk said it’d be a new golden age. Merchants only worryin’ themselves with bandits and the like, not deadly ‘storms they can’t outrun. And ye know, the further west ye go the worse the Manastorms get.”

“I have a solution for that,” Hal said.

The dwarf gave him one good look and spat to the side. “Always with the solutions, ye got yerself more secrets than bloody Mornhammar! Well, out with it. If I’m to be yer partner in this – I ain’t subservient to any soul – I’ll have no secrets atween us.”

Fair enough, Hal thought.

Clan Bouldergut would no doubt be a massive gain for his burgeoning Sanctum. Instead of huts made of twigs and straw, he saw towering stone buildings with elegant facades. Strong, thick gates of worked stone that swung effortlessly on cunning dwarven-made hinges.

And so Hal laid it all out for Durvin. His powers, the Manashield he could conjure and the path they would have to take to a crystalline land to the west in order to gain the Manaseed they’d need.

Seeing Durvin’s rightfully skeptical look after proclaiming he can stop Manastorms, Hal even went so far as to give a display of Manashield.

Brilliant prismatic light spilled out of Hal’s hand, raised to the heavens, and a large dome - much larger than the barrow they were in - was erected.

“To think,” Durvin mused, rubbing at his short beard. “I nearly let ‘em cut ye down! Things’ve been too wrong for too long lately I say. By Dumaduin! If’n ye got a mind to make some changes fer the better, then Clan Bouldergut will stand with ye.” He snorted. “Anvil’s been gettin’ a bit too crowded for me tastes anyhow.”

He grasped Hal’s forearm and they shook.

Clan Bouldergut Reputation: +2,200 (Dwarf-Friend).

The Bouldergut Clan now sees you as a friend of not just themselves, but the race as a whole. You are to be afforded every courtesy and aid they can give within reason. Dwarves consider you as extended family and will go out of their way to invite you out to drink and carouse.

“If yer really able to stop a Manastorm in its tracks, well… we can travel much cheaper and lighter then! We usually pay a few mage-types to do some o’ their mage-y stuff. Mostly that’s predictin’ where the Manastorm will be at so we can try to move around it.

“If we get stuck in one we got some shells we assemble and crawl under but they be heavy and not friendly to carry around if’n ye lookin’ fer speed.”

“Mages willing to make those treks are also very expensive,” Ashera said. “And the barriers they can erect are temporary at best. They last one or two strikes and then another needs to be erected and maintained.”

“Aye, the lass has the right of it.”

In the end, Durvin agreed to trade with them. Even going so far as to offer them the same rate they gave those on the black market within Murkmire. As Hal pointed out to the leader, even if they charged those prices they no longer had to pay bribes or for people to forge documents on their behalf.

They also wouldn’t need to make a trip into Murkmire in the first place.

There was still much to discuss. The logistics of moving such a large clan of dwarves was no small feat. Even with the Rangers helming the hunting and gathering for food, it would be a large procession. And as the one leading it, Hal was the one that would have to make the decisions.

He could go with just the Rangers and a small troupe from Clan Bouldergut but then they would have to return at some point for the bulk of the dwarves.

They could take everybody but then suffer being slowed down by so many people who couldn’t match the long measured strides of the Rangers.

Or he could go for a third option, one where he brought a large portion of dwarves but not so many that they drastically slowed him down.

Once Durvin left to arrange for their wares to be shown, Hal took out his [Explorer’s Map]. Now that they were out of Murkmire, the map showed large swaths of the Fallmark Region.

Sanctum-Fallwreath was there up on the far right of the map and several of the other Sanctums he heard about. If the map was remotely to scale, Hal could make a decent estimate as to the time it would take to reach the Shiverglades.

Traveling from Fallwreath through the woods and being delayed a day or two by the goblin cave, it took them weeks to reach Murkmire. And that was largely because of the children and sickly koblins they had in tow.

Accounting for the detour to that absolutely terrifying purple-pink hued crystalline section of the map, Hal figured it’d take them at least the same amount of time if they were going at an equal pace.

Unfortunately, the map was rather unhelpful in finding out where to set up a Sanctum. If they didn’t have to press far into the Shiverglades, then even with things going completely off the rails two days into the journey, they would likely make it to the Shiverglades within the month. Two at the outside.

Rolling up the map, he looked up to find the rest of his party watching him. “What?”

“When I first met you,” Mira said, leaning forward to peer intently at Hal. “I thought to myself, ‘no way this dude survives a single hour, let alone his first fight’ and now I’m watching you browbeat and cajole a friggin’ dwarf clan leader on his home turf. Haggle a dwarf down to a reasonable price and gain an ally all without getting somebody’s head cut off. I mean, what the heck. Who are you?”

“I told you he’d make a fine leader,” Ashera said to Elora.

The Ranger eyed Hal and a soft smile perked up the edges of her lips. “He’s come a long way. But we’re going to need to be careful. In fact, it might be best if you didn’t go into town at all. Who knows if Rinbast is looking for you.”

Grinning, Hal said, “I got a plan for that. I figure Durvin’s going to be a while uncrating all the goods for us to look over. I’ll go into town with a few people. Don’t worry, I can disguise myself.

“We’ll hand in the Coffin Contract, get paid, look in on the Gone Goose, and set up the area for the koblins. Meanwhile, one of you can go find the Rangers and explain what’s happened. I’m sure they’re worried.”

“I’ll go,” Elora said. “I can get there quickly.”

“That’s nice and all,” Mira said, getting up and stretching. “But there’s no way we’re all going to be able to leave. Not until we’ve made an oath or a pact of some kind with Clan Bouldergut.

“That they’re willing to trade at all speaks volumes for their regard for us - for you. But I doubt they’re going to let us all walk out with promises of going to get more money. That’s got to be the oldest trick in the book.

“Money, which I might add, we sorely need for supplies and-” Mira paused, seeing the strange look everybody was giving her. “What?”

“You’re coming?” Hal asked. He couldn’t help but smile. As much as he liked Mira’s company, she did seem a little scatterbrained. The sort of person that wouldn’t stick around for very long.

Add to that the reality of what Hal was trying to do – form a competing Sanctum right in Rinbast’s backyard – and the outlook of anybody tagging along with Hal was decidedly murky at best.

“Of course!” She looked positively incensed that they hadn’t considered she would stay. “Why would I leave you guys? You’re like family now. Nuh-uh. There’s no way you’re getting rid of me that easily. I want in on this Founder bull you got going on. Do you have any idea what kind of awesome gamble this is?”

Elora and Ashera nodded, Hal just shrugged. He had an inkling.

“Okay,” Mira said, pacing back and forth. “If you manage to create a Sanctum then that effectively makes us the founding members, yeah?”

“Seems reasonable,” Hal said.

“Elves aren’t allowed positions of high power. In fact, most races besides humans and a few rare instances of other races aren’t allowed to be anything higher than an assistant to a councilor.

“Now take it a step further. People are sick of Rinbast’s oppression. Once word gets out that there’s a safe haven for people who feel rejected or marginalized, your population is going to boom.”

Hal stood up and walked to the archway as Mira talked. He glanced out into the main central area of the camp. It was a hive of activity, dwarves bustled about unloading one crate after the other.

“Where are you going with this, Mira?” he asked, turning back to her.

“We’re going to need somebody to shepherd these poor souls to and from areas under Rinbast’s control. Normal citizens, especially craftsmen and tradesmen aren’t going to be able to make the trip. Heck, one of us might not be able to make it. What I’m saying is, we’re going to need an underground railroad.

“A path marked out and safeguarded along the way for those that know where to look and have a proper guide. I’ve walked the breadth of the Murkmire region all the way down to Withermere and even up to Amberhearth. I know the wilds, probably as well as Elora if not better. Let me come with you and I will bring you people who can’t get there by themselves.

“You’re going to need a population of people who can make things and those with a wellspring knowledge to make their home in this new Sanctum you’re cooking up. The people you need the most – academics, physicians, mages, crafters – are all going to be too weak to make the journey themselves. Besides, every person you take away from Rinbast hurts him at least as much as it helps us. Nobody wants a city full of meatheads who only know how to fight, Hal.”

Hal had thought of that very thing. Getting people to the Sanctum would be hard. He brushed away the clear reference to American history in light of what Mira was offering, it wasn’t worth the prickly questions. “If you want the job, you got it.”

Your Leadership has risen to Level 17(22).

+1% Party damage (+22%).

+2% Leadership efficacy (+44%).

97

It took them only a few minutes to divide up the tasks.

Mira, due to her higher rank in the Adventurer’s Guild and better knowledge of both Murkmire and the Guild would accompany Hal to turn in the Coffin Contract. Noth would come along and get herself registered as a new adventurer.

Elora would go to the Rangers and Ashera was to stay with the dwarves and help with preparations for the journey ahead.

“What’re ye fer?” Durvin bellowed as he marched into the barrow serving as their room. “Ye planning on high-tailing it outta here without so much as a ‘by yer leave?’ eh?”

Hal stood up and walked over to the dwarf. “On the contrary, I was hoping you’d come with us.”

That took the dwarf by surprise. He rocked back on his heels, bronze eyes wide.

“There are a few pieces of business we need to take care of in Murkmire proper,” Hal explained. “A good chunk of the money we’ll be getting will come from there and we have a couple of personal issues to attend to. We thought it might look bad if we just up and left so instead I’d welcome you and any of your clan that would like to come along.”

Durvin eyed Hal suspiciously. “How do ye know we ain’t fugitives and not allowed inside?”

Hal shrugged. “Based on everything you told me, I have no reason to think you’re anything but marginalized and treated unjustly.”

“And if’n we were murderers and thieves?” the old dwarf continued.

“Then I’d have to ask the particulars because I will not have wanton violence and theft in my Sanctum.”

Durvin snorted. “Dagdamora, boy. I’ll go with ye. Don’t think any other needs to be goin’ to keep ye lot in check. Besides, they got enough to keep ‘em busy here. Ye ready to go now?”

“Let me disguise myself and I’ll be ready to go,” Hal said.

Thankfully he had been too out of sorts to set any Beast Magic spells early in the day, and that was for the best because Shifting Mask cost half of his 10 Burden to set.

It meant that any day he planned on disguising himself, would be a day he would be severely hampered in combat.

The dwarf eyed him once more. “Go on then, can’t very well keep an eye on ye if I don’t know what ye’ll look like, can I?”

Hal chuckled. “Fair enough, Durvin.”

Concentrating, Hal reached to the new spell given to him by Shae’kathoth’s soul. It was a little different than using a normal spell. The knowledge was strangely within himself and yet removed.

Like a book on loan.

His skin rippled and his whole body felt as if it had been splashed with cold water. Seeing Durvin, he focused on the strong jawline and began to mentally shape the face of the man he would become.

It took him nearly ten minutes. It was his first time after all.

He made himself into a dwarf, though a tall one at nearly five feet. His beard was thick and black, coming to rest on his stout belly. Complete with bright shining silvery-blue eyes and a ruddy bulbous nose that fit his dour expression.

If not for the stark difference in hair color and beard length, he could have been Durvin’s brother. Or at least his cousin.

Hal flexed his thick fingers. They looked muscular but they weren’t. He felt no additional strength coursing through his veins and when he closed his thick fingers into a fist, it felt nearly the same as when he was a human.

To all the world, he was a dwarf. But a quick look at his stats showed that he was still Hal. He was still a Beastborne and still had its fell magic within him.

Durvin, and everybody else in the room, stared at Hal with open wonder. He was covered up in a heavy set of bronze plate mail with an open-faced helm. “How do I look?” he asked, and the whole room burst out laughing.

“Ye look the part, but ye suren don’t sound it!” Durvin bellowed. “Stay by me side and do as I say.”

As Hal, Durvin, Elora, Noth and Mira made the roundabout trek around the eastern side of Murkmire, Durvin gave Hal a basic rundown on dwarvish speech. It took him at least half the walk to get his voice sufficiently low and angry enough to make the dwarf satisfied.

“Nothin’ we can do about yer silly accent,” he said. “But ye look enough like one o’ them lily-livered Steeltoes that are always tryin’ to be more human. Sure they won’t mind if ye call yerself one o’ their clan.”

“Can do,” Hal growled. It felt weird pushing his voice that low. He had to push his voice up from his gut and it felt strange every time.

Since he had a few spare moments, Hal opened up the Persuasion perk menu, curious what it had for him. Only to find that there was no perk waiting for him.

Suddenly recalling that in the rush of everything that happened he also never set his Investigation perk. When he looked, he found that he had already chosen a perk.

He groaned, not because the perks were bad but because he had apparently selected them while drunk the night before.

“What’s the matter?” Mira asked.

“I accidentally left a perk for a while and last night-”

“You drunk-perked,” Mira said, nodding. Even Durvin bobbed his head in agreement.

“Happens to the best o’ us, boy.”

The perk he apparently chose was Friendly, granting him a 20% Persuasion success against “non-aggressive entities.” Could be worse, he thought. With Oathforger’s Regal Bearing, and his growing Persuasion skill, he would soon be even smoother than Altres.

He hoped the red-skinned Bard was okay. Hopefully, he was keeping the koblins company as he seemed to so enjoy. It was a shame the tiefling didn’t want to come along. Hal had no doubt that the man could have brightened everybody’s mood down in the Coffin District.

His Investigation perk was Treasure Hunter. While investigating, it increased the chance for higher rarity loot and Quest originating items by 15%.

As they closed in on the southern side, Elora broke off to go meet the Rangers, leaving just the three of them to walk up to the wide-open gates of Murkmire. The guards gave them a quick glance but either didn’t recognize any of them or didn’t care.

Once again the sheer size of the town – which felt like a severe misnomer to Hal – assaulted him. Level upon level of ringed walkways climbed up the side of the mountain up to its very peak.

Elegant towers glittered in the late day sun. The lowest level of Murkmire was bustling with activity. Hal saw Qalmor in his elegant plate armor walk past with a sour expression on his face. He made a beeline for the guards at the gate.

Hal nearly waved to him, the man had been fair if a little surly when he met him at first. But the way his eyes slid over the three of them reminded Hal that the man wouldn’t know any of them.

He had originally wanted Elora and Ashera to be elsewhere since by now word of their exploits may have hit Murkmire. Ashera’s desertion - or whatever it was, she was particularly cagey about it - would be known and Elora’s own mother had sold her out.

This was the best group for the task.

His first idea of merely slightly changing his features – namely his eyes and his mark – might have gotten him recognized still. And having the blustery dwarven leader along only helped to strengthen the illusion that he was just another dwarf.

They arrived at the Adventurer’s Guild and Hal found it much as it had been before. People sat and ate in the large eatery at the center of the Guild. Several groups were checking the posted board for quests and contracts, and even a few friendly games of cards were going on.

Several people, Hal noted, were looking with great curiosity at the missing Coffin Contract. There was a low buzz of talk about it still being gone, something that simply did not happen.

Most people took it, failed to get in, and abandoned the contract.

Hal pointed Noth toward the same counter he signed up at just a few days ago, stationed by what looked like the same attendant too. Noth split off from the group but took her time making her way to the counter. Was he imagining things, or did the Reaper seem… nervous?

With a shake of his head, Hal strode forward with Durvin hot on his heels to the nearest free agent behind a counter. He cleared his throat and grumbled, “Got meself a contract to turn in.”

The young man at the counter gave him a sour look, like Hal was something he just scraped off his shoe and it was talking to him.

Mira came up and leaned on the counter. The sight of her eased the young man’s expression instantly. “Oh, Mira! I didn’t know you were back so soon. Are you with these… gentlemen?”

She flashed a winsome smile. “Sure am. We just finished a little contract. Listen, Sammie I’m going to need a favor from you. When we turn in the contract you need to be cool okay? Can you be cool, Sammie?”

The thin man raked a hand through his curly red hair and tried in vain to lean casually on the counter like Mira was. “I can be cool.” He nearly slipped in the process.

“Because me and my friends here,” she thumbed to the two dwarves at her side. “We want some discretion, you understand. Adoring fans can wait, we’re tired and we want to finish this contract and spend our money, ya got it?”

“Of course, of course!” Sammie began, but when he saw Mira’s accusing glare he cleared his throat and refused to make eye contact with any of them. “Totally. Like… it’s cool man, whatever.”

“Good.” Mira nodded to Hal.

Hal took out the Coffin Contract and gave it one last look over. As their adventure had progressed it morphed and changed as all Quests seemed to do.

When it became obvious it was more than a simple extermination Quest, it began to add new rewards. He wondered if more Contracts were like this. Seemingly straightforward at first but then they mutated into something much grander. With rewards befitting the unforeseen changes.

Guild Contract Completed: The Coffin Contract.

You have come to understand the truth behind the Coffin District and its bloodied history. Not only have you freed the soul of the man responsible for so much prosperity but you simultaneously rid the world of an evil that few - through your combined efforts - will ever know of. While the bards may not sing to the praise of your heroism, they will rest easier.

Objective

- Gain entry to the Coffin District (Complete).

- Clear all monsters from within the district itself (Complete).

- Additional objectives available.

- Discover the cause for the shadow creatures (Complete).

- Gain entry into the Vault (Complete).

- Revitalize the Manatree to prevent further incursions (Complete).

- Defeat Shae’kathoth (Complete).

Rewards

- Guild Rank Increase (Variable).

- District Ownership Rights.

- 20,000 sparks (Per party member).

- Additional rewards available.

- Experience Points (Variable).

- Murkmire Reputation (Variable).

- +2 Guild Rank.

- Adventurer’s Guild Reputation (Variable).

- 5,000 sparks.

Hal handed over the scroll.

Sammie snorted and barely looked at it as he took out a large rubber stamp. His hand shook as he took a second glance at it. The young man’s mouth opened into a large O and he dropped the stamp to the table.

“Dammit, Sammie!” Mira cursed under her breath.

If the man heard her he made no sign. “I-I… this is real? I thought they were just… this… I need to get my supervisor.” With the contract in hand, Sammie ran into the back, knocking over a few other well-dressed Adventurer Guild agents behind the other counters.

Durvin looked over to Hal. “Ye got the boy spooked something fierce,” he said with a chuckle.

Hal had a bad feeling but he couldn’t fathom why. He felt the urge to use Splice to tap shadow and eldritch essence but stopped himself. It wasn’t necessary, not here. And yet he couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong.

A young man wearing opulent robes of crimson and gold stepped up from the back. He had a handsome and kind face with a hawkish nose but cold, hard icy-blue eyes. “You three completed the Coffin Contract?”

Hal nodded. “What’s it to ye?” he growled.

Before either of them could move a muscle, several dark-clad forms appeared behind them. Hal didn’t see where they came from. Alarm bells rang in his head. Even Besal was roused.

“I’ll need you to come with us, then,” said the man in velvety smooth tones.

The black cowls of the dark-clad men and women were pulled low to hide their face. But as Hal turned around to regard them, his heart stuttered. Even without his Shadesight, he could recognize the familiar – if scarred – features of most of them. It was his face. And six sets of dead brown eyes.

98

They were ushered into the hallways behind the counters, much to the complaints of the nearby agents.

Herded into a small cramped room, they were seated at a tiny table. The contract was placed on the table by the lean man who was clearly a mage.

The six darkly cloaked figures left the room. But Hal could feel them outside. As much as he tried to ignore them, their very presence felt like whispers in his mind.

“Now, I believe introductions are in order,” said the man. He rolled his fingers and a ball of light appeared in the air, even though the room was well lit with a pair of sconces filled with glowing crystals. “My name is Hirash. Archmage to the Founder. I carry out His will in seeking enemies of the public.”

Hal did well to mask his fear with the open contempt fitting of a dwarf. He felt a little better when he saw the same reaction from Durvin out of the corner of his eye.

“Is that so? We look like ‘enemy o’ the people’ to yerself then?” Durvin asked. His voice was ice-cold.

“Not at all, this is just… a friendly chat. We have reason to believe an agent of malign intentions has infiltrated the Adventurer’s Guild and undertaken this ‘Coffin Contract’ in order to harm Murkmire.

“Of course, the Founder would never let such a thing come to pass but we must make sure such rumors are unwarranted. How else would we be able to keep the peace if we ignored such talk?”

“Kindly show me your forearms.” His voice was excited as if he knew he was on the right track. Hal kept his smile under wraps. With Shifting Mask, the first thing he would have done was get rid of his mark. It was too easy to identify him.

As a dwarf looking nothing like Hal – assuming Rinbast gave his description out that is – not having a Founder’s mark would be nothing special.

They all laid their elbows onto the table, palms facing up. Durvin had to remove his leather bracers and Mira some of her scarred armor but they managed it easily enough.

Hirash leaned over each of their arms, twisting each this way and that as if he could see the mark if only it was at the right angle. He whispered under his breath and drew symbols in the air with his fingers. The air filled with magical energy but no marks became visible.

Hal’s alteration was no simple illusion. If Hirash knew the true nature of Shifting Mask, he might be able to dispel it but Hal kept to his hope that the man was too cocky to assume he made a mistake.

Hirash scoffed, spoke a few quiet words, and waved one hand through the air. Hal felt an overwhelming wave of affection wash over him. And then it was gone.

[Hirash] casts Charm.

Stalwart Soul activation!

You resist the effect of Charm.

To his side, Hal watched as Durvin shook off the same effect. He openly snarled at Hirash. Mira likewise seemed to resist it at first and then she turned violet doe eyes on Hirash like he was some dreamy model.

Oh no.

Hal looked to Mira, unsure of what to do. If he used any sort of magic, would Hirash know it? He had no clue what an Archmage was or how powerful the man might be. Worse, those things just outside might be able to detect something he did.

Hal was glad he didn’t use essence that day. If those things were what he thought – namely, Beastbornes or at least Chimera Knights – then they would have felt the essence on him that would mark him as more than a simple dwarf.

As it was, Hal could feel the cold dread of their essence auras through the wall. It made him break out in a cold sweat. Any moment he expected Hirash or one of the cowled figures to come in and expose his magic.

He could only hope that as part of its origin with Shae’kathoth’s soul, it was outside the purview of either group’s detection. Hal certainly never knew such things existed until he defeated the abomination.

But none of that mattered if Mira flat-out told Hirash that Hal was right there in front of him.

Hirash twisted his thin mouth into a grimace. “Dwarves,” he muttered under his breath. “But look at you my dear, what was your name again?” He was all smiles when he looked at her.

Mira beamed. “Oh, it’s Mira, sir. Mira Lavilieur.”

“Ain’t this a fine keg in a commode,” Durvin grumbled. Like Hal, he was watching the proceedings with a sharp, troubled eye. They didn’t have much choice but to watch and hope for an opening.

“Such a lovely name,” he cooed. “Now, were you one of the party members that undertook this contract?” He motioned to the scroll. To Hal, it clearly listed each of the party members. Why couldn’t Hirash read it?

“Ye can’t read the durned thing yerself?” Durvin rumbled.

The Archmage cast him a withering glare. “The Founder and the Adventuring Guild are… not seeing eye-to-eye at the moment.” He turned back to Mira, smiling. “A minor issue that will be smoothed out in time. Now, my question?”

“Yeah, I was part of the group,” she said breezily. “Saw ‘em pick it up and everything too. Thought they were going to die the first time they stepped into the Coffin District – if they even made it that far. Told ‘em all about the contract and its history. They were greenhorns, newbies y’know?”

Hirash nodded paternally.

“So’s I said to myself, ‘Mira, ya gotta help ‘em out. They’re going to go into that dang place no matter what, you better make sure they don’t die doing it.’ And so I took them over to Rondo’s.

“You know Rondo? No? Oh, I gotta show you. Excellent little gnome. Very nice man. Love him to bits. Treats me like a second daughter. Absolute gentleman too. Has this funny little-”

Hirash cleared his throat. “I don’t care about the gnome. Tell me about the party you helped.”

Mira was usually talkative but this was something else. Hal risked a look her way and though her expression was absolutely enraptured, her face was covered in a heavy sheen of sweat.

Was she trying to resist his Charm even after it succeeded?

“What’s the big deal getting the girl all worked up for!” Hal shouted. He banged a fist onto the table and was promptly joined by Durvin’s pounding fist as well. “You haven’t asked us a durned thing!”

Hirash turned a critical eye toward Hal and his less-than-common vernacular, for a dwarf at least.

“All them magey types are the same,” Durvin snorted. “Always wagglin’ them little fingers and twitchin’ their little beady eyes back and forth like they see more’n the rest o’ us!”

“Silence!” Hirash screeched, his thin reedy voice grew strained and he spread his hands out wide, evoking another spell.

[Hirash] casts Silence.

Stalwart Soul activation!

You resist the effect of Silence.

This time, only Hal seemed able to resist. But he saw with a wide grin that he and Durvin had gotten Hirash so worked up that he cast the spell on all of them in an attempt to shut them up.

Unfortunately for him, he also got Mira. And that action seemed to wipe any effect his previous Charm had on her. She glared at him with open hostility and though her mouth moved in its usual rapid-fire pace, no sound came out.

Hal wasn’t a great lip-reader but the girl was clearly swearing up a storm.

He turned to Hirash and leaned back into his chair, lacing his thick fingers behind his head.

Just then the door burst open and a beautiful older woman in the Adventurer’s Guild uniform marched into the room with two young men in ornate plate armor at her side. Each of them proudly displaying the Guild’s shield crest.

“Just what in the void is the meaning of this Hirash?” she bellowed, marching up to the thin man. “Each of these people are members of the Adventurer’s Guild in good standing and as such you have no jurisdiction here!”

She turned to the three of them. With silver hair, kind jade green eyes, and curling ivory horns she could have been Ashera’s mother. The woman held herself with an effortless stately air. A wave of her hand made the air sparkle with magical energy, dispelling Hirash’s magic.

“-gonna get it right in there up to the elbow you pig-fu-” Mira stopped herself miming an unsettling motion with her forearm as her voice came back. She cleared her throat, colored a little, and had the good grace to look away. “Sorry Matron Madrasil.”

“It’s quite all right, child,” she said kindly. “You have every right to be angry.”

“Maddy, c’mon,” Hirash wheedled.

The Matron reached forward and grabbed a fistful of the mage’s robes and lifted him easily off the floor with one hand. “If I ever catch you interrogating my Guildmates again, I will personally see to it that you are excommunicated from every city and township the Guild resides in. Try me, Hirash. I dare you.”

With that threat, she dropped him and jabbed a pale arm to the door. “Leave. And take those things with you.”

Unable to muster so much as a glare, the Archmage lifted his head high and marched out as if it were his decision all along.

A familiar face peeked in from the door. The kindly Adventurer’s Guild attendant that had first introduced Hal to the Guild. The same one that was signing up Noth. “Everything okay Matron?” she asked.

“Yes, yes dear. Thank you for getting me. Please shut the door.” Matron Madrasil pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a deep shaky sigh.

When the Matron opened her eyes, she turned her penetrating gaze on each of them. For a long moment she stared at Hal and he had the worrying feeling she could see through the illusion. But she said nothing.

“Now,” she said. “Are any of you hurt? Did he harm you in any way?”

Each of them shook their heads.

“Good.” Noticing the scroll on the table, she picked it up and read it. “I see now. No wonder he was so interested in you three. Rather, you two.” She pointed at Hal and Mira. “Gabriel, I would like you to inquire about Sammie’s activities of late – discreetly, please – and get back to me. Hirash should not have been allowed to commandeer a room, let along kidnap three Guild members.”

One of the young men in plate mail saluted and left the room.

“As Matron of the Adventurer’s Guild, I would like to formally apologize for the way you were treated. Being a Guildmate is supposed to afford certain protections.

“Protections that I am afraid to say were not enforced as they should have been. You do not answer to the Founder while you are within our walls, this is sovereign ground as much as Rinbast would see it otherwise.”

She let out a low whistle. “Quite the accomplishment, clearing the Coffin District like that. What happened to your original member, Giel?”

“He’s… dead miss,” Hal said.

“I’m sorry to hear that, he was a Tavernkeep wasn’t he? Strange name… Wild Goose or something right?” she asked.

“The Gone Goose, Matron,” the lone soldier said.

“Yes, thank you.” She looked at the Hal. “I don’t get out very much these days. Guild matters take up most of my time. As per Guild bylaws, Giel’s share of the reward will be held in a trust until such time as his next of kin can be located.

“In the event that is impossible, it will follow the desires of his will if there is such. And, in the event neither of those options are discovered, it will be evenly split among the remaining party members.”

“Now, seeing as you have changed party members after the contract’s completion, we cannot award anything to the newcomer but the rest of your original party are all to be awarded the sum of twenty-thousand sparks each. Progress two ranks within the Guild, gain some considerable Experience, Reputation, and I see you’ve earned yet another five thousand sparks.

“All of that, and ownership rights to the Coffin District. Wow. I have to say, it isn’t every day that somebody completes a contract like this. I also heard through the grapevine that the one the rights go to, Hal… which one of you is Hal?”

Hal in dwarven disguise raised his hand. “That’ll be me.”

Once again her piercing gaze fell upon him, her lips twitched into a slight frown for a moment then it was gone. “Very well. Your Guild badge is genuine at least. You wish to remain anonymous outside of the Guild, yes?”

“That’s right, Matron.”

“Very well, I will place a seal on this Contract. To any member that is not of the Guild and proven their allegiance, your names will be illegible and when spoken they will hear something else. That is, unfortunately, the best I can do.

“Even then, you must understand, you are likely going to gain a great deal of fame for this. This has been a black stain on Murkmire - and the Adventurer’s Guild by extension - for many years. Thank you for completing this, and my condolences for losing a member of your party. I know it isn’t easy.”

“That being said, before the day is through the ownership will be transferred to you and the Watch will be notified of the changes. As a personal favor to me, I will have them - and a small detachment of Guild Guards - continue to watch over the district for the next month.

“That way we can assure you have time to set up buyers or move people in as you see fit. After, of course, the initial inspections are completed. We have to confirm the district is safe, of course. But I foresee no problems on that end.”

With a wave of her hand, the Contract sparkled and burst into gold-and-silver confetti. “Congratulations again.”

99

Your Adventurer’s Guild Rank has risen to Apprentice.

You have unlocked Titles.

Titles are awarded based on meritorious actions and apply a permanent buff based on the deeds you have done. Titles can be hidden but discerning individuals may be able to find ways to see your titles. In addition to applying permanent buffs, Titles also provide fame & infamy (depending on the Title) and can affect your standing with various groups.

You have unlocked Guild Mail.

Guild Mail allows you to correspond with any other affiliated Guild Member, even those of lower Rank, through any of the sanctioned crystalline junctions scattered about the world.

Cost: 5 sparks.

You have unlocked Adventurer’s Guild Points.

Awarded to Guild Members for upstanding work and for spreading the good intentions of the Guild, Adventurer’s Guild Points are a unique form of currency that is hard to come by. It cannot be bought, traded, sold, or otherwise received except through deeds thoroughly vetted by the Adventurer’s Guild Council. Adventurer’s Guild Points can be utilized to provide an array of boons from legendary items to rare services.

You earn 25,000 sparks.

You gain 5,000 Experience.

You gain 10 Adventurer’s Guild Points.

Murkmire Reputation: +16,500 (Fabled Hero).

Among the highest honors for any person in the realm, the title of Fabled Hero is not bestowed lightly. No silver-tongued Bard, nor countless donations of wealth can attain this reputation. Only through deeds that the Worldshard itself views as sufficiently monumental can one be granted the reputation of Fabled Hero. For saving Murkmire - and the world at large - from the threat of Shae’kathoth at great personal risk, you have been awarded an honor among honors.

Any Murkmire citizen in good standing will go above and beyond to aid you and cater to your every whim so long as it does not run counter to the heroic nature you have gained in the eyes of the people. The people of Murkmire will gladly extol your deeds and your good name to all they come across, gradually increasing your fame (and in some cases, infamy) to other groups of people.

Adventurer’s Guild Reputation: +3,300 (Acclaimed Adventurer).

Having undertaken a massive Contract that nobody thought possible to complete, much less by a new adventurer, your fame among the Guild has risen considerably. Those of sufficient Rank will know of your deeds and they will be whispered throughout the ranks.

You now possess Ownership of the “Coffin District.”

New Title: Coffin Closer.

Awarded for successful completion of the Coffin Contract.

Less likely to be attacked by undead your Level or lower.

Dramatically increases the aggressiveness of undead more than 10 Levels above you.

The Matron looked toward Hal then to Mira. “I wish I could offer more than apologies but I am very busy and this most recent matter has made me all the busier. I’ll leave the door open and permit you a few moments to collect yourselves. On my word, while you are within these halls you will be protected.”

She headed toward the door, opened by her guard but then stopped. She tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully. Matron Madrasil looked over the trio. “Do you have lodgings within the town itself? No? Excellent. Then as a way of a proper apology, I will gift you the Dragon Suite for your use whenever you are in town.” With a nod, the Matron swept out of the room, her shining knightly guard hot on her heels.

Mira wiped the sweat from her brow and slumped in her chair. “Wow.”

“What’s a Dragon Suite?” Hal asked.

“It’s a prestigious set of rooms reserved for adventurers of particular note. You can’t rent it, it must be awarded or given from the Adventurer’s Guild Council or I guess, the Matron,” Mira said. “I get how close we were to something truly awful happening but dang. That’s one heck of an apology.”

“Smart too,” Durvin said, pushing away from the table and hopping out of his chair. “The Matron can’t very well go ‘round lettin’ her adventurers get beat on by the Founder. Under her own roof no less! And if that sniveling milk-drinking caster really has it out fer us then they’ll descend on us as soon as we ain’t under her protection.”

“I see,” Hal said, catching on. “So by giving us a permanent room here, it makes it harder for them to harass us and lets her save a little face as well.” Looking down, Hal noticed his Guild Badge had changed to a blue shield with silver trim.

Mira’s and Durvin’s, on the other hand, were now silver shields with shimmering green metal trim.

The Dragoon caught him looking and followed his gaze. “Yeah, Journeyman Rank baby! Looks like Durvin and I are the same Rank. Man, that really boosted us up didn’t it? I’ve never seen anybody jump more than a full rank and then it usually takes more than a month of work.” She shook her head. “To think you’ve barely been an Initiate for less than a week!”

“Look again lassy,” Durvin said, tapping the shield he had pinned to the leathers on his shoulder.

Mira leaned over and Hal turned to get a better look too. The dwarf’s badge was the same color as Mira’s but it also had two golden stars arching over the top of the shield’s face.

“No fair! You were already a Journeyman? Man!” She leaped to her feet and paced anxiously around the room. “Now I’m the second-highest ranked in the group?” She eyed Durvin. “Unless you don’t think you’ll be spending much time with us?” she asked hopefully.

“Yer stuck with me,” he said with a wide grin. “But don’t ye worry yerself! I’ll let ye do most o’ the work. What’s the fancy word the humans use fer getting’ one o’ the lesser rank to do work fer ye?” Durvin snapped his thick fingers as the word came to him. “Delegate. I’ll delegate to ye seeing as I’m yer superior.”

Hal doubted Durvin really cared much about his rank within the Guild but it was clear how much it mattered to Mira and the keen dwarf was fast to rub it in.

“So I’ve unlocked Titles, Adventurer’s Guild Points, and Guild Mail? Mind walking me through those?” Hal asked Mira.

“Let’s go check out our new digs and I’ll explain everything on the way. How about that?” Mira countered.

With a shrug, Hal accepted and they left the room one by one. There was an attendant waiting for them. The older gentleman quietly guided them out into the main room of the Adventurer’s Guild where they met up with an anxious-looking Noth.

On the way, Mira gave him a quick rundown on everything he unlocked. Titles were pretty obvious, they were rare rewards for doing something unique or difficult.

Up to 5 titles could be set at once, with a single title of his choosing being displayed. As the notification said, he could also choose to hide it but it might not work against discerning individuals.

The Guild Points was just an Adventurer’s Guild specific currency. Mira assured him that 10 points was a lot. And Guild Mail was a simple way to communicate over long distances. Provided he could find another sanctioned mailbox.

He doubted there would be one along the way to the Shiverglades. But maybe if he could get one built, it would facilitate communication over long distances.

“Are you okay?” Noth asked as soon as they came out from the back. “I saw those things surround you – they just appeared out of nowhere – and as soon as I caught on, I told the attendant who was signing me up about it. She stormed off immediately, did she get help?”

Mira looped an arm with Noth’s, their armor made a rustling sound as Mira’s scales brushed against Noth’s borrowed leather garb. “Everything’s fine, we’ve got some new lodgings that we’re going to check out. We’ll talk there.”

Noth took a look around the now-crowded room and understood what Mira was doing. Hal saw it too. Countless faces were watching them as they emerged from the back room.

Immediately, Hal turned around and went to the nearest free counter. “Hi, the Matron mentioned something about a room?”

The dark-skinned orc behind the counter nodded her braided head and placed the silvery key on the glass countertop. “Yes, sir. Here you are.”

Hal had to reach his thick dwarven arms to the limit in order to get it but he finally managed it with a polite nudge from the attendant. She winked at Hal when their eyes met and Hal hurried back to the group.

Mira led them up a set of stairs toward the back of the room. While she did, Hal looked over the key. It was heavy and vaguely in the shape of a dragon’s maw, with a sapphire the size of Hal’s thumbnail set into the handle of the key.

The Dragon Suite was located up five flights of stairs, which Hal found particularly challenging due to his new dwarven form. It was a simple landing instead of a full-fledged floor. The door held a silver plaque etched into the shape of a roaring dragon.

As soon as the key was placed near the door, it pulled out of Hal’s hand and clicked into the lock. There was a flash of blue light and the key vanished.

You have attuned to the Dragon Suite.

The door will open for you and any individual (up to 10 at once) that you designate.

That’ll be useful. Hal assigned his current party plus Durvin, Angram, Altres, and Yesel.

Hal opened the door, to reveal a spacious common area with an attached lounge and kitchen that split off into six distinct rooms. Mira rushed ahead to take it all in, followed quickly by Hal, Durvin, and Noth.

The space was well-decorated, in sharp contrast to the simple accouterments of their lodgings from their first night in Murkmire. This was a definitive step up.

And if Hal wasn’t planning on making his own home already, he would have deeply considered using the Dragon Suite as his base of operations. It had everything he would need.

He didn’t spend much time looking around but the common room alone could have fit several of their old rooms comfortably. Couches and soft cushioned steps reminded him of one of those 1970’s “conversation pits,” it made for a cozy central discussion and lounging area.

Even if he wasn’t going to use it immediately, having it on hand was probably more valuable than he could know. Any agents that he might want to send into Murkmire would be able to open this door and have a safe house of sorts.

It was perfect.

Durvin never moved past the foyer. “Too durned high,” he muttered.

While Noth and Mira were busy exploring, Hal took the ten minutes to cast Shifting Mask again. This time, he turned himself into a lean elf that resembled his own build with striking green eyes instead of his easily recognized brown.

“Smart,” Durvin said, off to the side. “They might’n be looking fer a dwarf but as an elf ye’ll blend right in.”

“That was my thought,” Hal said.

Mira and Noth came back into the room then. For some reason, only Mira seemed surprised by Hal’s appearance. “Hal?” she asked after a moment.

He nodded.

“What’re you doing?” Mira asked, coming up closer to inspect his new guise.

“The lad’s going back out into the town and by me guess, he ain’t welcomin’ us along,” said Durvin.

It took Durvin saying it aloud for Hal to realize that was his plan.

There would be no use in changing his appearance if he was going to continue walking with the same group. If Hirash was watching the Guild, he’d be looking for any one of them.

Alone as a non-descript elf, Hal stood a much better chance of moving about Murkmire unimpeded. “I won’t be gone long,” Hal said.

The elf rolled her eyes. “Don’t take long, okay?”

Hal went to the door and looked over his shoulder. “Be back before you know it.”

100

Hal found the blunt-faced barracks of the Watch easily enough. There seemed to be more activity inside than usual as he approached the officer on duty behind the circular desk. “Hi, I was told to come down and speak to Captain Qalmor?”

The Coffin District was clear, providing a place for the koblins, which meant that Qalmor could no longer bar them entry into Murkmire. As the new owner of the Coffin District, if he gave the koblins residences, wouldn’t that make them citizens?

And therefore Captain Qalmor would have to allow them entry.

“Name?” the guard asked without looking up.

Hal grinned. “Koblin Dan.” He couldn’t very well give his name out but he was fairly sure Qalmor would remember his run-in with the koblins well enough to be curious.

“Take a seat,” the guard instructed. “Captain’s very busy, he’ll see ya when there’s time.” He got up from behind the desk and walked into a back room.

The only way he could think to complete the Quest, Rest for the Weary, was to meet Qalmor face-to-face. He hoped he had the measure of the Captain.

The man was gone barely five minutes when Qalmor himself came out and looked around the room. His eyes skimmed right over the guards to Hal’s elven form and then the three other occupants, a man, a bulky orc, and a halfling girl.

The guards formed a protective barrier between the two groups but not to protect the little halfling girl. She kept hurling vicious insults at the two much larger men, each sporting several cuts and bruises.

Qalmor spoke quietly to the guard, who then pointed at Hal.

Taking his cue, Hal stood and walked over.

“Are you… Koblin Dan?” Qalmor asked.

“Yessir, you said you wanted to speak to me after I completed that Quest you gave me.”

The Captain’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. “Very well, come into the back. We’ll discuss it in my office.”

Qalmor guided Hal through the cramped halls into a small chamber with a desk stacked high with paperwork. The Captain shut the door behind Hal and locked the door.

The Captain sat down, but not behind the desk. He chose one of the two seats facing the desk normally reserved for guests. Qalmor rubbed his temples. He looked careworn. “I’m not sure what kind of game you’re playing at, but honestly I don’t have the time or energy to care. Out with whatever… this-” He gestured vaguely at Hal. “-is all about so we can be done with it. What is your real name, to start with?”

“Try not to be alarmed,” Hal said. “I thought it was best not to directly be seen around you.” Rather than drop the spell completely, Hal was able to shift it, revealing his face so the captain would recognize him but keeping the rest of his body the same. All without having to cast the spell again.

The fatigue was washed right out of Qalmor at the sight of Hal. “By the Gods,” he muttered. “You do realize you’ve ruffled quite a few feathers.” He shook his head. “Of course you do, why else would you disguise yourself? What do you want from me?”

“I finished the Quest,” Hal said.

Qalmor’s eyes unfocused. He must have gotten a similar prompt to Hal confirming that he found a place for the koblins after all.

Quest Completed: Rest for the Weary.

What started as a simple desire to see the kindly koblins safe has become a long and winding journey where new friends were found, others lost and evils were unearthed. You were up to the challenge, however, and never waivered in your attempts to seek asylum for your diminutive friends.

Objectives

- Question local innkeepers (Complete).

- Find out more about the abandoned district (Complete).

- Investigate the “Coffin Contract” at the Adventurer’s Guild (Complete).

- Find a place for the koblins to rest within the safety of Murkmire’s protection.

- Alternative: Complete the “Coffin Contract” and provide the koblins with homes within your newly obtained district (Provides additional rewards) (Complete).

- Report to Captain Qalmor (Complete).

Rewards

- Murkmire Reputation (Variable).

- Koblin Reputation (Variable).

- Experience Points (Variable).

- Founder of Fallwreath Reputation (Variable).

Murkmire Reputation: +1,100 (Fabled Hero).

Koblin Reputation: +5,000 (Brightsight).

Your very presence inspires and brings joy to the koblins. You are loved and revered as a deity given flesh to most koblins. All their secrets are yours to acquire and koblins will not only do nearly anything you ask but will seek your guidance as well.

You gain 3,500 Experience Points.

Founder Loyalists Reputation: -5,000 (Malcontent).

Those loyal to the Founder of Fallwreath will not sit idly by and allow you to besmirch all they have managed to swindle and steal from the less fortunate. Your ownership of the Coffin District is an affront to them. And allowing “undesirables” to live within the walls of their fair town, while perfectly legal, is a slap in their face.

Founder Loyalists will actively seek to unmask the identity of the owner and do all in their power to make life difficult for you if they succeed in finding you out.

“Well, I’ll be a karak’s tailfeather,” Qalmor muttered.

Seriously, Hal thought, looking at the rewards.

“I take it I can trust your word that you won’t bar the koblin’s entry now?” Hal asked.

Being in the middle of a barracks was making him nervous. He wanted to get the koblins situated and get out of Murkmire before the Archmage found some way to detect him.

“More problems,” the Captain grumbled. He stood, eyeing Hal. “By my word I am honor-bound to see it through. Nevermind that I didn’t think you could pull off such a ridiculous Quest.”

“And you’ll not hurt the koblins or let people push them out?” Hal pressed.

“You have my word that I will personally see to it that they are left in peace.” He gave Hal a hard look. “So long as they themselves respect our laws and are peaceful in turn, they will have no trouble from the guard.

“But if I were you, I’d watch my own back. Son, you’ve really kicked the anthill. I don’t know who you are… and honestly, I don’t want to know. The less I do, the better I’ll sleep. I don’t know if what they’re saying about you is true but we’ve orders to arrest any man matching your description on sight.”

Hal watched him for a tense moment but the Captain simply sunk back into his chair. “From all that I’ve witnessed,” Qalmor continued, “you and yours have done nothing but followed the letter of the law and been upstanding guests. So I won’t outright arrest you, but I can’t say the same for the rest of the rank and file.”

“I’ve done nothing to hurt anybody or break any laws that I know of,” Hal said. “Unless existing is a crime. But since you’ve been fair with me, I figured I would repay the favor and keep this meeting discrete as possible.”

Qalmor snorted and scraped a hand over his stubbled face. A far different man looked back at him than the clean-shaven one from several days ago. “You call waltzing into the barracks discrete?”

Hal flashed a sheepish grin and shrugged. “If you’ll give me ten or so minutes, I’ll change back to my disguise and be out of your hair. So long as the koblins are allowed to live peacefully, I see no reason for me to stay and watch over them. I’ll be gone before first light.”

“You wouldn’t be daft enough to threaten me, now would you?”

“Never,” Hal said with a faint smirk. “Only stating the obvious. If it were my choice I’d already be gone. But I made a vow. Since you’ll be looking in on the koblins to make sure nothing happens, my business in Murkmire is nearly at an end. If you weren’t able to assure me that the koblins would be safe then I’d feel obliged to stick around.” Hal shrugged. “But I trust you.”

“As much as I don’t want to, the feeling is mutual,” Qalmor said, rising once more to his feet to shake Hal’s hand. “I don’t know what kind of mess you’ve gotten yourself into but if you’re leaving tomorrow then I see no reason anybody else needs to know of this conversation.”

“Murkmire would be in far better hands with more people like yourself at the helm,” Hal said. He shut his eyes and concentrated once more to disguise himself as the same elf from earlier.

The guard shook his head ruefully. “Forgive me if I don’t take the word of a wanted fugitive as gospel. I appreciate the sentiment, however.”

Hal received a notification that belied the Captain’s words.

Murkmire Watch Reputation: +2,000 (Wary Friendship).

You have impressed the Captain of the Watch and as such many of his men and women under his command will look more favorably upon you. They are likely to provide slight preferential treatment and many will forget they saw you if you pass them in the street, should there be any orders to look for you.

Bear in mind that their friendship has its limits. They will not countermand a direct order and the more severe the charges against you the more likely they will be to act upon those orders.

With a laugh, Hal turned to the door and looked over his shoulder at Qalmor, his disguise as an elf completed.“Do you mind?”

The Captain reached into his pocket and produced an iron key. He unlocked the door and guided Hal straight out to the busy street. Carts and wagons creaked as they rolled by. The sun was setting and merchants were busy calling out last-minute sales while others closed up their shops for the day.

Just as some were closing up, there were many more that were opening for the night.

I’d like to come back someday when I can walk the streets openly, Hal thought as he made his way back to the Adventurer’s Guild.

Altogether, it hadn’t taken him very long to complete his errand. He made it back to the Adventurer’s Guild in record time. But on his way there he couldn’t help but notice several pairs of eyes on the Guild’s entrance.

Whatever he felt about using Shae’kathoth’s soul for its magic, he was glad to have it then. Without breaking stride, Hal headed into the Guild and straight to the stairs that would lead him to his rooms.

As he opened the door to the Dragon Suite, his mood rebounded considerably as he wondered what ridiculous names the koblins might call their new home. Maybe he should let them rename the district?

Durvin hadn’t moved from his spot in the foyer except to grab a comfortable chair to sit in to pass the time. “Ye back already?” he said, hopping up. “Good, it’s past time we get a move on! Ye got yer coin now, and don’t ye forget I was there when it was passed out! I’m knowin’ what ye got to spend so don’t try and stiff me, boy!”

Hal shut the door behind him, the sound of Durvin’s voice brought Mira and Noth from some room deeper in. “Don’t worry, Durvin,” Hal said. “I have no intention of staying any longer than necessary in town.

“If you don’t mind, I could use one of your clansmen to come into town before we leave to buy any necessary supplies. I’d rather not do it myself considering….”

“Ye mean considerin’ the durned Founder’s got a bee up his bum about ye comin’ to usurp him?” Durvin chuckled. “I can get me lads to do that easily enough. Gonna need a lot more supplies than just transportation, ain’t we?”

“Are we leaving?” Mira asked. “I’d like to swing by Rondo’s shop real quick, even if it’s just to say goodbye. He was always so nice to me!”

“I would like to see this tiny gnome,” Noth said, pulling Hal up short.

He couldn’t help but smile. Hal had been more than a little worried about Noth. She hadn’t shown much interest in anything besides eating, drinking, and sleeping. It was good to see her care about something more.

“Meet us back at Clan Bouldergut’s camp, and please be careful,” Hal said. He looked to Durvin. “Ready to meet the rest of the people you’ll be traveling with?”

The dwarf shook his head. “They can’t be any crazier than ye are, boy.”

101

“Why is it you wish to see this man?” Noth asked, as Mira led her out of a side passage from the Adventurer’s Guild.

“He’s a good friend,” Mira said with a fond smile at the first memory of coming to Murkmire and finding Rondo’s shop.

The little grumpy gnome tossed her out of the shop on her oversized and pointed ear. But, like all people she met and liked, Mira eventually wore him down.

She didn’t know what she was going to do when she got there, but with the busy nature of Murkmire, she had time to sort it out before they got to his shop.

As much as she enjoyed the chaos of the city, she was looking forward to getting out into the wider world. Joining up with Hal’s group was a godsend, one she wasn’t likely to squander.

What she needed, more than anything was experience. Not just the capital E version that the people on Aldim used to empower themselves but actual experience in this new life.

A young woman bumped into her and jostled Mira from her thoughts. Her fingers instinctively began to curl into the beginnings of a spell and she had to stop herself. Nope, you don’t do that anymore. Not here. It was hard though. And Aldim recognized her innate gift with magic, granting her a facsimile of it.

With any luck, Elora would think it was simple druidic magic and let it go at that. It was one of her favorite things about Aldim. There were so many good explanations for things already baked into the Worldshard. She could cherry-pick the ones she preferred and nobody would be any wiser.

Except for Hal, maybe.

She didn’t think he came from Brookmoors. Definitely didn’t have the look. And she prided herself on knowing everybody who came onto those hallowed grounds. He could have been an Archivist, but she doubted it.

Weaving through the crowd, Mira finally got to Rondo’s shop. She could see the man bustling about as the last customers of the day filtered out of the shop with their purchases.

She smiled fondly, Noth at her side looking curiously into the windows.

Mira knew she should be more careful about her use of slang around Hal. At the same time, it felt good. And even though Hal never broached the subject, she knew he understood.

For some reason, that made all the difference. Just one person understanding her native language’s idioms and phrases made her feel less homesick.

Steeling herself, Mira opened the door and strolled right in.

“I’m sorry, shop’s closing,” Rondo began to say without ever looking up. “If you know what you want right now, I’ll complete the order but if you’re another looky-loo- Oh! Mira! Hmph. Have you brought me another wayward Adventurer?”

Mira couldn’t help but smile. “You know you love helping them out! But no, I’m here on personal business.”

Rondo snorted, his thick mustache bristling. The gnome ambled over to the main door and locked it, flipping the little sign over to read “Closed” and then doing the same with the back door Hal and Mira had come through days ago.

“Well,” he said, turning to look over his shoulder at her as he rearranged his stock. “What’s this personal business then? I would appreciate getting some sleep tonight, dear.”

Now that she was here, she didn’t know how to proceed. Mira rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. Charisma - here or back home - was never one of her strong suits. She had a forceful personality and she knew it.

She loved it, in fact.

Had plenty of friends who loved her as well but here things were… different. She couldn’t curse for one. She wondered how long it would take Hal to notice that he wasn’t able to swear.

Swearing was at least half of her vocabulary and it had taken a very long time to stop. People looked at you weird when all you ever said were things like, “holy flork,” and “eat my grass.”

With a shake of her head, realizing she was rambling in her own head to distract from what she wanted to do, Mira hopped onto the counter. A few shirts padded her bottom, shirts Rondo would undoubtedly have to refold to put on display.

“Out with it girl, I’m not a young gnome anymore,” he said, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he went about his shop.

Of all the people she had ever met, she trusted Rondo the most. Not enough with her secret, never that. The Worldshard was always watching and listening. Thoughts, thankfully, were safe but she didn’t want to cut her vacation short.

“How would you like to set up the premier marketplace in a brand new Sanctum? One that’s about to be filled with adventurers of all colors and creeds? We’re not talking penny-ante stuff.” She motioned to the shop.

Rondo, predictably, began to splutter and get very, very red. It was always adorable to watch. It didn’t start at his cheeks, nor his ears, nor his nose as it did with some people. When Rondo got really mad, it was the bald pate on top of his head that gleamed like a hot stovetop.

“Girl, you got a pair on you that makes me doubt your fair features sometimes!” he blustered. “What do you mean, coming into my shop and disparaging my good name?”

Noth was wandering the place, looking at this or that with her arms crossed behind her back. The picture of a perfect window shopper.

“I don’t mean anything by it, you know my tongue wags about sometimes,” Mira said making a poo-pooing gesture by flapping her free hand Rondo’s way. “But you know you could do better. You’ve got a keen eye and a long storied history of adventuring. Who better to make an emporium?”

He snorted, blowing out his white mustache. “Been hitting the drink a little early today?” he asked. Mira, being the proper lady made a rude gesture and stuck out her tongue at him. At least those hadn’t been replaced. “Very mature. Even if there was a new Sanctum - and there isn’t, I would have heard - I couldn’t just up and leave.”

“Why not?” Noth asked, studying a small ruby with a black mote at its center. She turned to Rondo. “From browsing your wares I can see you have an eye for merchandise, even if much of it is in ill-repair. What could you do if you were able to direct more than just the leavings of others?”

The gnome’s bushy eyebrows climbed high on his wrinkled forehead. That was one of the first times Mira ever saw Rondo without a quip at the ready. He was speechless.

For good reason. Noth didn’t speak all the time, not at all like Mira. They couldn’t have been more opposite. But the way she urged him on while subtly criticizing his wares and in the same breath complimenting him was… well, it was hard enough for Mira to know how she should react! Let alone the thoughts swirling around in poor Rondo’s head.

“You listen here,” he said, wagging a finger Noth’s way. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am. Maybe my shop doesn’t contain the best brands or the newest styles but it serves a function. One I am proud to serve. And no fool’s dream of another Sanctum - what ridiculous nonsense! - is going to change my mind.”

Mira hopped off the counter and stood before Rondo. She crouched - though she knew he hated it - so she could look him in the eye. It wasn’t her fault she was so tall. She didn’t ask to be an elf. It just… sorta happened.

Worldshards could be weird. Things got lost in translation from one to the other.

“Listen, Rondo,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “I happen to know that there is a new Founder in town. And by the way your eyes just widened a little, I’ll say you’ve heard the whisperings. The Watch is looking for somebody. Somebody, I dare say you already can guess at.

“Well, I’m here to tell you that the whispering is true. This new Founder is looking to set up shop far away from here. No, I won’t tell you where. I’m not that stupid. I know your shop is warded from prying eyes and ears but still.” She shrugged. “Can never be too careful.”

Rondo went very still. He watched her with his characteristic intensity. Faster than even Mira could move - which was considerable - Rondo snapped his hand out and grabbed her by the ear like a wayward child.

“You listen here, girl,” he growled. “If anybody else ever heard you say that, you would be clapped in an iron collar and sent to the Rift. Do you want that? No? Good. Then listen for once to an old gnome and shut your mouth.

“You’ve always had a knack for stepping on toes, but these people are beyond your league. Do not get involved in any pursuits of glory. Even if you were telling the truth, and there is a new Founder… there’s no way to say he wouldn’t turn out to be just like them. And even if not, he’s going to be dead in a week.”

When Rondo let go, Mira rose to full height and rubbed her sore ear. Elf ears were a lot more sensitive to touch than she thought. It still smarted even though Rondo wasn’t trying to hurt her.

“I understand,” she snapped. “I’ve seen this one first-hand. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen him do! He’s already escaped Rinbast - yeah I said it, Rinbast, he doesn’t deserve the honorific - twice now. And no worse for wear.

“Come on Rondo! Look at this place. You’re forced to sell at barely above what you make and largely because you refuse to fleece new adventurer’s but where does that leave you? How much do you pay in rent for this place?”

His grumbling reply was answer enough.

“Imagine being the Quartermaster to a new Founder. Heck, imagine being the premier merchant for a brand-new Sanctum. Somewhere safe that Rinbast couldn’t strike at without great cost. I’m giving you the hard sell because I know you want to come. I know you hate what Murkmire has become.

“How many times have you told me how you miss what this place used to be? You came here because you heard the stories of its fairness and open-mindedness. Tell me, Rondo, how has that turned out for you so far? How many permits have you submitted for a shop in a better area?”

That made the gnome grumble and grow even redder.

“He wants to come,” Noth said. “But he will not see reason.”

Mira nodded, folding her arms over her breasts. “You’ve worked hard to get where you are and even though I’m not a merchant, I can see that it’s not remotely where you should be. I’m giving you the option for a fresh start in a place that will value your talents. Don’t be a smidgeon mucker.”

Mira paused at that. That was a neat little twist on her words, at least it rhymed. Clearly not remotely what she was trying to say but… what could you do?

“I am not being a-a smidgeon mucker!” Rondo said, flailing his arms about animatedly.

“I doubt you understand the term ‘sunk cost fallacy’ here but it really applies. Who cares how long you’ve worked here! Abandon it and come with me! Stop being so small-minded!”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

Any progress her wheedling might have earned was gone in an eyeblink. Furious, Rondo took out a rolled-up bill of sale he had in one hand and began batting at Mira’s legs. “Get out! Go! You’re lucky I don’t report you to the Watch you insolent little-”

Mira, fast on her feet, was already quick for the door realizing she once again stuck her foot in her mouth. When Rondo suddenly stopped, she turned around more curious than concerned.

There was Rondo, slumped on the ground at Noth’s feet. Her scythe poised above his head, the wicked black blade pointed - thankfully - away from the small, unconscious gnome.

At her look of surprise, Noth shrugged her shoulders. “What?” She motioned to the man. “He wanted to come, he was being foolish. We will take him and he will thank you for the opportunity.”

Mira put a hand to her forehead and sighed. “I’ll get the rope.”

102

After the trials of the past few days, the rise and fall of the hilly countryside surrounding Murkmire was a leisurely stroll to Hal. Together with Durvin at his side, the pair crossed the miles of undulating grassy land and found themselves in the dark of the forests south of the Sanctuary.

The Dolcrest Woods

Your Exploration has risen to Level 3.

+10% Faster drawing speed (+30%).

+3% Discoverable range (+9%).

Once alone, the two leaders lapsed into a companionable silence. Each of them lost within themselves. Hal found the typically surly dwarf amazingly good company. It was nice to have some time with his own thoughts. To try and make sense of everything that happened.

After that last use of Shifting Mask, Hal didn’t have enough MP to refresh it. Luckily the pair were well away from Murkmire by then and pushing deeper into the forest.

Any prying eyes would more than likely be the Rangers. A thought that comforted Hal as the spell finally faded, returning him to his tattered and worn façade.

Stepping over a rotten log, the path he had taken days before came back to him unbidden. Back then - nearly a week ago - he never would have considered himself a leader. Now the title rested upon his shoulders with a sense of familiarity. It still didn’t feel comfortable but he wasn’t sure it ever would.

Maybe that was what being a leader meant. An ever-present sense of discomfort.

As they climbed higher into the dolcrest woods at the foothills of the southern mountains, Hal felt the bite of the chill deep beneath the sheltering canopy of the forest. The night was coming on in full and the temperature kept dropping, the pair tapped their Guild badges to ward off the dark but the badges did little against the cold.

“Ye look like ye could use a hit from me flask, boy.” The dwarf pulled out a battered silver hip flask that looked like it had once been used to stop an axe blow. He handed it over.

“Thanks.” Hal unscrewed the cap and held his breath as he took a swig.

Just as he thought, it burned the taste right out of his mouth. It was like swallowing fire, except it somehow managed to get worse even after he passed it back to Durvin.

When Hal coughed, he expected flames to shoot out of his mouth.

You drink [Durvin’s Brew].

+25 Insulation.

+20 Ice Resist.

-10% Max HP.

Duration: 2hrs.

“That’s the good stuff,” Durvin said with a smile. He took a swig himself and put the flask away. “Ye tolerate the stuff better than most o’ yer weak kin.”

Unable to find his voice amid the burning sensation that threatened to consume him, Hal merely nodded.

The drink worked though.

Hal was so busy worrying that he was about to combust into flames that all thought of the cold was pushed from his mind.

A bird whistle caught Hal’s attention and he put out an arm. “They’ve found us,” Hal said. But even as he did, he drew out [Goblinbane].

Durvin looked at him with one raised brow. But the canny dwarf understood Hal’s caution and held his hands out in front of him. A gleaming silvery axe appeared in his muscular hands. The pair slowly turned until they were back-to-back.

“Strange friends ye got,” Durvin remarked.

Hal shrugged, Splicing aberration and eldritch. A ruby heat haze surrounded him. “I’m not about to let my guard down this close to the finish line.”

“Aye, that’s fair enough.”

Another bird call answered the first. In the distance, Hal heard more calls in response and he lowered the blade’s tip to the ground just a little.

Hal expected to be surrounded but only a lone figure came down from the trees to greet them. Hal recognized the lean man with ruby-red eyes glinting in the light of their Guild badges.

“I was told you’d be harder to find,” Angram said jovially. He held out his arms, wrapped in form-fitting hunting leathers. “But here you were walking like two beacons, and that’s to say nothing of the racket you were making!”

Angram chuckled and when Hal came forward to greet him, he wrapped Hal in a tight hug. Angram dropped his voice to whisper into Hal’s ear, “You are being followed. Don’t look behind, we’re going to lead them into an ambush.” Angram pulled Hal back and held him out at arm’s length, examining him. “You look like you’ve a tale to tell. Are you well?”

Hal was surprised at the sincerity in the elf’s voice. Not to mention the fact that they were being followed. There wasn’t much room to hide in the sloping countryside. He had to wonder when they started following him.

“It’s… been a long couple of days,” Hal said truthfully. He sheathed his sword and motioned to Durvin Bouldergut. “This is Durvin, leader of the Bouldergut Clan.”

The lean elf put up a gloved hand to stop him. “Elora’s back at camp. She’s already told us what’s going on.” He turned to Durvin and extended a hand. “Glad to have the sturdy support of such a reputable clan from Anvil. My name’s Angram Masaeil.”

“Masaeil?” Durvin asked, eyes bright with recognition.

Angram waved it away. “Black sheep of the family, I’m afraid,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. He turned on his heels and began to march off.

The pair followed and now that Hal knew somebody was following him, he could see the signs of it. Even with his relatively decent Perception at 15, it was hard for him to catch them. Whoever was leading them was accomplished in both Stealth and Survival to be able to hide so easily within the woods.

As they walked Angram kept up a steady stream of chatter. “We had to move camp once we realized you were still gone after a day. Just in case a Manastorm swept this way – not that we’ve heard of any recently.

“Still, precautions never hurt anybody and we took refuge in some of the larger hillside caves. I dare say your strange-talking friends have worked themselves up into quite a fuss over your absence. Altres has been working double-time to keep them distracted and entertained.”

“Yeah?” Hal asked.

Durvin shook his head. “Still can’t believe ye took in a goblin clan.”

“Koblins,” Angram and Hal corrected him at once. They shared a brief laugh until the Ranger put up a hand to stop them.

“This is good enough,” Angram said.

“What’re ye fer?” Durvin asked suspiciously.

Angram lifted his voice up to echo into the darkness beyond their Guild badges. The trees here were thick and wide, but the underbrush was rather minimal making any hiding spots rather obvious. “We know you’re following our friends. Might as well come out and be done with it. We’ll bring you no closer to our camp. Either turn back now or make yourself known.”

A tense silence filled the dark forest.

Durvin summoned his wicked silvery axe again and slapped the flat of the bladed head into his palm with a loud smack. “Shoulda told me we were bein’ followed,” he grumbled.

Hal loosed the [Goblinbane] from its sheath and lowered his voice in reply, “Then we wouldn’t have had such a nice spot for an ambush. And you would have insisted on running off after them, or am I wrong?”

“Alright, boy, I get yer meanin’. Don’t like bein’ kept in the dark is all.”

“Noted,” Hal said.

As they spoke a lean figure stepped out from behind a tree on their left, a curved sword pointed at the back of her neck. A Ranger winked back at the group behind the hostage, though Hal couldn’t bring the man’s name to mind.

One by one the Rangers flushed out their stalkers with sword, dagger, or bow. There was no battle and it was over in just a few seconds. Seven people in all, corralled into a tight knot facing Hal, Durvin, and Angram.

Hal stepped forward, keeping his [Goblinbane] at the ready but lowered and off to the side so he didn’t seem quite so threatening. Hal caught Angram’s surprised look out of the corner of his eye.

What anger Hal had vanished when he saw the sunken eyes and dirty faces looking back at him. They held no weapons that Hal could tell and their clothes were barely better than his.

One person in particular, a young woman with virulent red hair at the center of the group, drew Hal’s attention. She kept her head down and did her best to keep her eyes averted. Despite that, Hal could feel something from her. A strange energy in the air that centered on her.

Two older men with grimacing faces stepped to the side as Hal drew near. His feet moved on their own accord until he realized he was in the middle of this ragtag group of people. They were from all walks of life. Young and old, strong and weak, but all of them had a look of desperation.

Hal was more intrigued than upset and maybe he should have been warier but he couldn’t muster the energy. There was no way such a group of rabble should have been able to sneak up on him. Even though his Perception wasn’t the best in the world he was willing to bet Durvin’s wasn’t.

“Why were you following me?” he asked the girl with the long dirty red hair. The answers would come from her, he knew.

She didn’t shy away from the question. Barely five-foot-five, the slight creature wore a tattered cloak so dirtied with age and use that there was no way of telling what its true color was.

Pulling the hood back, she lifted her gaze to Hal’s. The most crystalline blue eyes Hal had ever seen looked back at him, but that wasn’t what stole his breath away. It was the strange trio of matching diamond-shaped crystals embedded in her forehead, the exact same color as her eyes. The one in the center was larger than those to either side.

She tried to wipe a smudge on her cheek to make herself more presentable. Each of the Rangers gasped and stepped back. They immediately sheathed any weapons they had out.

Hal looked at Durvin and Angram behind him, both of their mouths were agape.

“What am I missing?” Hal asked.

“She’s a bleedin’ Oracle,” Durvin said reverently.

103

“What’s an Oracle?” Hal asked.

Durvin snickered. “Somebody rarer than ye are, boy.”

“My name is Luda,” said the small girl. “I’m sorry for not announcing myself earlier but your dwarven friend is right. I am an Oracle. I can see by your expression that you don’t know what that means.” She gave Hal a pleased smile as if she appreciated his lack of reverence.

“The specifics aren’t important,” she continued. “But I can see mana and therein manipulate it. I’ve lost everything I once had. I say this not because I desire your pity but because I want you to understand I have no ties. I would humbly ask that you take me and these fine people into your protection.”

Hal took a step back suspiciously. “Who am I to you?” Even with his disguise gone, it was dark in the forest and hard to see. Not to mention he was careful about his mark and made sure his bracer still covered it. He was glad it stopped projecting before fighting Shae’kathoth.

Gladder yet that it didn’t decide to randomly start again.

Luda looked at Hal. “You are an unbound Founder. Rare and without agenda. Except, perhaps, to establish yourself. I think we can help each other. My gifts, humble as they are, will be at your disposal should you accept us under your aegis.”

With a sigh, Hal rammed the [Goblinbane] back into its sheath. “We’re going to be leaving soon,” he said baldly. “There won’t be much protection to go around. It’ll be a deadly and dangerous journey. I cannot guarantee anybody’s safety.”

Tilting her head, Luda watched him with a slight curve to her red lips. “Any protection you might offer is more than I could expect elsewhere. I accept your conditions.”

Hal didn’t mean that as an offer. He was trying to dissuade the girl.

She went ahead ignoring him though. She looked at those that followed her and each of them nodded eagerly. “It would seem we are in agreement. These kind people are not fighters but they are skilled in other ways that I am sure a burgeoning leader such as yourself could find a use for.”

When Hal took a moment to look at the Rangers assembled, each of them looked to Hal with… hope? Expectation? He could see the answer to their plea was already a foregone conclusion.

The Rangers that had protected and sheltered him, kept him fed, and alive wanted this. For some reason, they trusted the Oracle and her group.

Without the context necessary they were just another group of refugees that he felt were better off in Murkmire with the koblins.

“What if I said I had a safe place in Murkmire for you,” he offered. “Where you needn’t threaten your lives by taking a journey that is fraught with peril? Would you prefer to stay then?”

Luda shook her head, several of her people shuffled nervously. “I would still ask to accompany you. If you stay in Murkmire… I would stay. If you go, I would go.”

It was clear that the Rangers already accepted her, and so he would need to as well. He would have Vorax keep an eye on them. A refugee group, desperately needing his aid at this time? It was too coincidental.

“As long as you understand the risks,” he said. “Is this everybody?” Hal motioned to the group.

“Yes. We once numbered nine but we were attacked.”

Hal turned to Angram. The elf had regained his composure and stood with his palms resting atop the pommels of the blades belted at his waist. “Well, lead on then.”

Just what he needed. Refugees. The whole reason he had gone through the trouble to provide a place for the koblins was that the journey would be deadly. And now he was supposed to protect a child with magical sight and six other non-combatants.

With his back to them, Hal dismissed them from his mind and followed Angram deeper into the woods.

The Rangers’ new camp was nestled amid a series of caves that dotted the sloping base of the southern mountains. The koblins painted intricate designs all over the entrances to three of the caves.

Angram slowed and fell into step beside Hal. He chuckled. “They made themselves at home fairly quickly. We tried to tell them to keep a low profile but I don’t think they understand the concept.”

Hal was about to respond when a shrill cry echoed down from the caves ahead. Out from the center cavern spilled dozens of koblins all hooting and hollering. Birds scattered into the dark sky, startled from their roosts by the racket.

They had barely broken the cover of the forest but the mask-wearing koblins were out in force. Hal didn’t doubt that if he had a hostile army at his back the koblins would be no less excited to see him.

“I’ll never understand them,” he muttered. Angram clapped him on the back and motioned to the nearby Rangers.

Durvin stood by Hal’s side, dumbfounded. “Ye got the durned things whipped up just by yer sight.” The canny dwarf eyed Hal. “Do ye know how many leaders would kill for such loyalty?”

Hal shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

He snorted. “Sure it ain’t.”

Luda came up on his other side. “Their hearts are so full of joy at your return.”

Hal nearly jumped out of his skin. He didn’t hear the girl approach at all. “Somebody needs to put a bell on you.”

She let out a soft tinkling laugh. “I apologize, I am used to needing a measure of stealth. By now it’s practically second nature.”

Hal waved away the apology. “Go with Angram and see if you can’t get a decent meal and something better to wear.”

“As you wish.”

When Hal looked back in her direction she was gone.

The koblins descended upon him then and lifted Hal off his feet. They cheered and hollered, even managing to sweep Durvin kicking and gnashing his teeth up into the air beside Hal.

“Kobbie-savior is back!”

“No-see in many clock-ticks!”

“Muchly tongue-flaps we must have!”

On it went as they carried the duo up into the largest cave. And there they stayed as every koblin had to see Hal. It was at least a couple of hours before Hal could settle the excitable koblins enough to explain what he had been doing. And his plan for their safety.

As expected, they loudly voiced their disagreement. Each of them, all hundred-plus of them, wanted to come along.

Hal tried to explain it to them.

They outnumbered Durvin’s clan nearly three-to-one but the dwarves were hardy folk used to the dangers of traveling. Most of the koblins had never left the cave that had turned into their prison.

He reassured them that it was only temporary. As soon as the Sanctum was founded, he would personally return to retrieve them. He would never leave them behind.

More than anything, that seemed to appease their fears and worries.

To their credit, when it was obvious that Hal wouldn’t budge on the issue they begrudgingly accepted his decree. All except for three koblins. Buffrix, Lurklox, and Jabkix wouldn’t allow Hal to dissuade them.

The three were quick to point out that they were all capable fighters. Now that they had time to rest and recover they vowed they wouldn’t be a burden anymore. And so Hal eventually accepted their decision instead of drag out the issue further.

Lootlox, the smallest koblin of all, tried to argue but Hal would not change his mind. She was so small and precious, he couldn’t bear to see her hurt. He tried to explain it but she just crossed her little arms and pointedly looked away from Hal.

“Yer friends got a nice eye for caves,” Durvin said once Hal found a moment to sit down. The dwarf pressed a bowl of stew into his hands. “Don’t carry the load all on yer own, boy. Leadin’s at least half as much about knowing who’s got a good head on their shoulders.

“Ye think I manage our coffers as well as the crafting and sale o’ everything?” The bronze-bearded dwarf wagged his short beard. “Ye gotta learn to rely on others to handle things sometimes. Else yer gonna be too busy runnin’ about doin’ errands fer every durned fool who asks to properly lead yer folk anywhere.”

Hal gave him an appraising look. “You’re right.” Hal figured they’d lapse back into quiet as they ate but Durvin seemed to have other ideas.

“But yer thinking it’s easy to say but not so easy to do, aye?”

“More or less,” Hal admitted.

“If yer serious about bein’ a proper leader, then the first thing ye gotta learn is to have faith in the people that put their faith in ye, boy.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

The dwarf put the bowl to his lips and slurped up the remains of the stew. He dropped it to the side with a clatter and pointed at Hal. “Then follow this, lad. I look around and I see hope when yer folk look upon ye. I see faith, Hal. But yer so unsure of yerself that ye ignore it.

“Ye shoulder each tiny problem as if ye were nothin’ more than an average adventurer. Are ye nothin’ more than an errand boy?”

Hal shook his head, cupping the bowl in both hands and staring into the murky contents as if they might reveal an answer.

“I don’t know ye, lad. But me gut’s tellin’ me ye got a good heart in that scrawny chest o’ yers. It’s a common mistake o’ new leadership to take the burden o’ all onto their shoulders as if having advisors, generals, and them that ye rely on is some sign o’ weakness!” Durvin shook his head.

The surly dwarf let Hal think on that as he ate. Durvin popped up onto his feet and trundled off deeper into the cavern to talk to one of the Rangers. Hal didn’t know what he was talking about but by the way he was gesturing madly, it was something that had the dwarf worked up.

Which didn’t necessarily narrow down the topic of conversation.

Altres appeared, and his ruby-skinned visage put a cork in the dwarf’s surly demeanor. But it was his smooth-talking and kindly mannerisms that kept Durvin appeased.

As he ate, Hal looked around the cave.

In short order, the Rangers and the koblins together had made the damp cave into a decent base. It was amazing that the Rangers managed to find anywhere that could naturally hold so many koblins. Hal was sure that their numbers somehow grew because now the official count – as far as the Rangers could tell – was somewhere north of 200 koblins.

All about him the caves were a hive of activity. Koblins, Rangers, and one angry dwarf were moving about getting ready to head out in the morning to Clan Bouldergut’s camp. Hal was so tired he didn’t even bother to argue when it was brought up that they couldn’t possibly make it back to the dwarven camp that night.

They had too many people to move. And since they had no idea when Hal, Elora, and Ashera would return, the Rangers had dug in for the long haul. It would all take time to break down and get moving. And none of them were keen on traveling in the dead of night.

Hal couldn’t blame them. Even from the interior of the caves, he could sometimes make out a disconcerting wail echoing from the forest below.

Maybe it would be better to wait until tomorrow.

Hal had a lot to think about after what Durvin said to him. He finished his stew and he sat and he watched and he thought.

104

Hal spent most of the night thinking. And for a wonder, he was left largely alone. He spoke to Durvin, Altres, and Elora once or twice before bedding down for the night. And then it was only to confirm their plans to move out in the morning.

Without death breathing down his neck or a new crisis to deal with, Hal found it easier to relax for once. He knew there was a lot he didn’t understand about being a leader. A lot the canny older dwarf could help him with if Hal let him.

Was Durvin right? Did he really lack faith in those around him so much that he felt the need to do it all himself?

He wasn’t a lone adventurer out for himself. His goal – now that he actually took time to look inward – wasn’t to be the strongest or most powerful creature in the world.

It was to set up a safe haven for all peoples who felt marginalized. To give a home to the koblins, the refugees, and the people that were driven out of their homes because their only crime was to speak out against injustice and thuggish autocrats.

That was his goal. Not to return home to Seattle, to a life that meant nothing to him anymore. Here he had friends, people he loved and cherished that stood by him even when every sane person would have abandoned him.

Maybe he didn’t have faith in those around him like Durvin suggested. He could fix that. He could fix all of it.

The very next morning Hal set out with the Rangers shepherding the koblins along. There was nothing they could do about the spontaneous silly songs the koblins made up and began to sing.

They drew nearly every nasty beast for miles around and significantly slowed their progress. Hal suspected it was on purpose. But eventually, the group made it out of the dolcrest woods and into the rolling hills south of Murkmire.

There, Hal donned his elven disguise. Even though he explained his intentions before they set out over breakfast that morning, the looks he got after Shifting Mask took hold were ones of shock and concern.

Distant Murkmire rose up like a many-tiered cake around the mountain it called home. Hal could see the tall iron-bound gates from here and he felt a pang of guilt knowing that the koblins would rather come with him than be sequestered in there.

But he also knew they would be far safer within the walls of Murkmire. Most of them he had learned were barely Level 2. A small handful somehow managed to stumble upon Classes but the majority lacked any actual skills beyond crafting and gathering.

Useful, and he assured them many times throughout the journey that they would be welcomed in his Sanctum. A place where they could ply their trades freely.

For now, they needed to be protected and numbering over 220 – and Hal was certain their numbers were somehow growing now – they were simply too many to protect at once. So they would stay within the Sanctuary for now.

Qalmor would watch over them and all that was left was for Hal to pick a few leaders and give them a couple of rules to live by. Durvin was right. He couldn’t do it all himself. He would have to trust in those he picked to lead the koblins in his absence.

The next step of his plan was to structure his own people so that it wasn’t always up to himself, while at the same time he wasn’t relying on a few people to guide him. What he needed to do was delegate responsibilities to people best suited for the job.

With that in mind, they started on the final stretch toward Murkmire. Throughout it all the koblins rallied around him, eager to talk to him and be near because they knew all-too-soon he would be gone again.

“Buffrix,” Hal called to the koblin mender with the white leather mask.

“Hal-savior wishes to trade tongue-flaps?” Buffrix asked as he pushed through the crowding koblins.

Though he didn’t understand the intricate – and always shifting – social structure of the koblins, he knew well enough that they prized craftsmanship above all else.

Combat was seen as an oddity to the small things. If he wanted his representatives to be taken seriously for their own merit and not just because he appointed them, Hal needed to choose the best crafters and gatherers in the tribe.

He instantly thought of two he had experiences with but he needed to be certain. “Could you find Sparkspox, Prowlox, and Slyrix for me?”

Buffrix saluted, his one green ear flopped to the side as he did so with such gusto that he knocked himself in the head. Buffrix’s green lensed mask glinted in the morning light as he went bobbing about the koblins, looking for the three.

How he knew who was who when every one of them now wore a mask, Hal couldn’t begin to guess.

Eventually, Buffrix enlisted the aid of a few more koblins and was able to track down Sparkspox, Prowlox, and Slyrix.

Hal repeated his plan once they were walking beside him. He felt it was important enough that it bore reminding the koblins that he was not abandoning them and would return for them. He would bring each and every one of them that still wanted to leave Murkmire to his new Sanctum.

Sparkspox, Prowlox, and Slyrix were to act as his appointed leaders while he was gone. “I’ll need each of you to work together to make sure the koblins are taken care of and settling in well.

“The people may not be kind to you but I want you to be on your best behavior. Each of you has the right to live there. Let no one tell you otherwise. There will be a man, a Captain of the City Watch named Qalmor that will look in on you. Tell him I’ve appointed you three as the representatives of the koblins.”

Hal continued to lay out his plan for them. To find a niche they could fill in with their crafting and gathering so they could eat and be safe. There was no need to worry about lodgings since the entire Coffin District was now theirs.

The most important tenet that he impressed upon them was that they should never fight. Defend and retreat but never retaliate. The last thing he wanted was some sort of race war going on in his absence.

Each of the koblins – two girls and one boy if Hal understood their naming scheme right – nodded along and hung on his every word. It was more than a little uncomfortable for Hal. He had forgotten how strangely devoted they were.

No matter how uncomfortable it made him feel, he would use it. If their devotion made them behave and stay safe then he would gladly take advantage of that tool provided.

He wasn’t sure if that was what Durvin meant but he was willing to bet he was not far off the mark. It would do no good trying to change the koblins.

By the time they reached the gates, Hal had to reapply his Shifting Mask again. A simple enough affair now that he was used to casting it. So long as the spell didn’t wear off and he wanted the same disguise, he could cast it without dropping it.

To anybody watching him, nothing would change.

The three koblins had their orders. But even as they stood like an approaching army at the gates of Murkmire, none of the koblins made a move.

Hal looked at the faint shimmer in the air indicating the full strength of the Manatree’s shielding. It felt welcoming. And though he knew the Manatree only struck at those monsters of evil hearts, he still worried. He could not help it.

Would the koblins be repelled by the shield? Or even worse, would they be killed? Was he inadvertently asking them to march to their deaths?

Hal motioned for Buffrix. “Can you see the Manatree’s barrier?”

The koblin nodded. “Buffrix eye-peek bright-sphere from life-tree. Life-tree bright-sphere hurt no-belongers. Kobbies belong. But… only one way to eye-peek!”

Before Hal could stop him, the little koblin sprinted toward the open gates with its guards looking on nervously. Hal spotted Qalmor among them, speaking to each of them. Their eyes met and the Captain gave the familiar elven form of Hal a nod.

Trust him, Hal reminded himself. Hal had touched the Manatree and felt its essence within the depths of Murkmire. He felt certain that it would not harm the kind-hearted koblins.

With his long strides, Hal could have caught Buffrix and stopped him but to do so would have been treating him like a child. And even with Qalmor at the gate, the other guards would see it. It would set a precedent for treating them that Hal did not want. They deserved respect, not to be treated like wayward children or worse.

Buffrix barreled through the barrier without so much as the slightest resistance. He turned around and hopped up and down, excitedly waving his mittened hands in the air for the other koblins to come through.

They did, albeit reluctantly. The whole procession took so long that Hal worried his Shifting Mask disguise would drop. Each of the koblins felt it was absolutely essential that they hug or touch Hal in some way as they left.

Finally, it was Sparkspox, Prowlox, and Slyrix’s turn. They went last, ensuring that any stragglers were wrangled up and no koblin was missing. Three times now Lootlox had tried to stay behind with Hal.

“Be safe,” Hal told them. “And be good.”

Each of them gave him a goofy salute much like Buffrix did and they marched off. But not before they got a good five-second-long hug in each. To which Hal gladly reciprocated. Lootlox ran up to him then, her façade of petulance breaking down into full-on neediness.

The littlest koblin hugged him and Hal lifted her up into the air to give her a proper hug. “You’re my little spy among the koblins,” he whispered to her. “You’ll make sure they stay good, won’t you Lootlox?”

Lootlox let out a stream of unintelligible words in her excitement and when Hal set her down she bounced and skipped back to the group.

It was amazing how quickly the weird little creatures endeared themselves to him.

To his surprise, Altres followed after them.

“You’re staying?” Hal asked. He didn’t mean to sound incredulous but he was a little surprised. Even after what he heard about how Altres had become attached to the little ones.

The tiefling grinned, showing pearly white fangs and spread his arms wide. “What can I say, I’m a lover, not a fighter.” He came up to Hal and gave him an unexpectedly tight embrace. “I’ll keep the little tikes in line,” he said afterward. “Don’t get me wrong, I trust you’ll get to where you’re going but somebody has to manage your interests here. I can’t very well let an entire district go unused.”

Hal nodded along. It made sense. He would miss Altres though.

He was glad he already added Altres to the list of people who could use the Dragon Suite, and he told the tiefling just that. At the very mention of the Dragon Suite, the tiefling’s eyes widened. He let out a low whistle. “I know you were coming up in the world, but wow. I’ll see that it gets used properly!”

With a final hearty handshake farewell, the two parted ways.

The guard kept them at the gate while his three representatives arranged the koblins in five orderly lines. Qalmor gave one last look in Hal’s direction as the three koblins approached him and then the Captain was leading the koblins into the city.

“Let’s go,” Hal said. More than a few of the hardy Rangers had misty eyes at the departure of the koblins.

Even Durvin, who Hal thought would hate the creatures purely on the merit of their race, made a loud sniffle after they had gone. “Durned pollen,” he grumbled loudly so that everybody could hear the excuse.

105

The dwarves welcomed them with a hearty lunch when they returned to Clan Bouldergut’s camp. Mira joined them as the groups introduced each other over the meal but Noth and Ashera were strangely absent.

Durvin split off to go see if the wares were ready as soon as they came into the camp proper. Before he left he gifted Hal with a set of clothes that weren’t filthy. Grateful for the change, Hal found somewhere private and swapped to the new outfit.

A simple heavy-duty shirt which left his forearms bare and a sturdy set of slacks replaced the worn and tattered gear he had been wearing for practically a week straight by that point. Hal strapped on his sword belt and with the others grabbed some food from the mess hall.

“Where were you guys?” Mira asked. There was a wild light to her eyes. More than there normally was, at least. “You told us to meet you back here.”

Hal scooped up the roast’s remains with a heel of crusty bread. Around his mouthful of food, he said, “We got held up. It took us nearly six hours to get from the camp to the gates with all the koblins.”

“Singing most of the way,” Angram added across from Hal with a nod toward the three koblins eating at the next table over. They were welcomed with opened arms by Durvin’s kindly bearded folk. While Buffrix, Lurklox, and Jabkix weren’t exactly singing anymore, they were humming the same tune.

Hal conceded the point with a nod the elf’s way. “There was no way we’d make the journey safely in the dead of night. It also gave the Rangers plenty of time to break down the camp and be ready to move.”

“I thought maybe we’d be leaving this morning, is all,” Mira said, her eyes darted around. She flicked her violet gaze to Hal’s mostly finished meal. “You’re done eating, right? Good.” Without waiting for Hal’s reply, she yanked him off the bench and hauled him out of the converted barrow the dwarves used for a mess hall.

“Mira, what the heck’s going on?” Hal asked, shrugging off her grip and following the lanky elf’s quick pace. Once she ducked into their mildly private quarters, Hal understood.

There he found Ashera pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. Across from her was Noth looking mildly confused. Which was nothing compared to the confused and terrified expression of the gagged gnome bound to a chair between the two women.

With those bushy white mutton chops and that bald pate, Hal easily recognized Rondo.

At least now he knew why Noth and Ashera weren’t around.

“So,” Mira said, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I may have kidnapped Rondo.”

“Mira… why?” He looked at Noth. “Did you help her do this?”

Shamelessly she nodded. Ashera groaned.

“How do you fit into all this?” he asked the Sin Keeper.

“I don’t,” she answered. “Not really. I came back into our rooms to grab something – and to check on Vorax – then I heard the muffled screams.” Ashera motioned to Rondo.

Hal came forward and knelt in front of the chair Rondo was tied to. “I’m going to take the gag off now,” Hal said. “Try not to scream. All right?”

The little gnome frantically nodded then went very still when Hal undid the knot behind the man’s head. He went about untying him from the chair and stepped back. “T-thank you,” he said in a shaky voice.

“Could somebody explain how anybody thought this was a good idea?” Hal asked. It felt like he was chaperoning a bunch of kids.

“Well, Noth and I thought it would-” She stopped when Rondo raised a tiny beringed hand.

“Allow me,” he said, fishing around in his vest pocket for a pair of pince-nez glasses and fixing them onto his large nose. He cleared his throat and chafed his wrists. “These two ladies came into my shop and as I have an old friendship with Mira, we struck up a pleasant conversation. Eventually, she suggested that I come with her and a group of people to forge off into the unknown.

“I politely declined and told her that my adventuring days were behind me. Now, Mira has always been impulsive. For all the years I’ve known her that has been her one steadfast trait. So it came as a very great surprise when it was not her, but her quiet friend that promptly conked me atop my noggin.”

Rondo glared over at Noth who blushed and tried to hide the embarrassment with a scowl.

“When I came to,” Rondo continued. “I was in a small dark place. I feared for my life, thinking maybe I was buried somewhere in a coffin – always a great fear of mine y’know – and after enough screaming and banging Ashera over there came to my rescue.

“Which caused a great hullaballoo when Mira came back into the room bringing tall dark and psychotic with her. I was still bound and gagged so, Mira, in her infinite wisdom saw fit to bind me to a chair and try to explain why I was kidnapped from my home and place of business.”

Rondo’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the glowing mark on Hal’s exposed forearm. In the rush of everything that happened, he didn’t think he would have to hide it. Not surrounded by the dwarves as he was and in the middle of eating.

“As I said, Mira is impulsive but sweet. She tried to convince me to stay even though she very well knew that what she had done was wrong.”

“I told him we had a Founder!” Mira blurted out as if she could somehow steal the coming reveal from Rondo and make it less painful.

Hal hung his head. “You didn’t.”

“She did,” Rondo said. He motioned to Hal’s mark. “And to be quite frank, until I saw the mark on your own arm for myself I didn’t quite believe her.” The little gnome swallowed hard. “And now I realize I am at your mercy, good sir. I know well enough what Rinbast does to anybody found with that mark. And I know precisely how dangerous I am now that I have this knowledge.”

Hal raised a brow at him. “You’re awfully calm for knowing so much.”

Rondo merely spread his arms wide and shrugged. “I am an old gnome with many years of adventuring under my belt. It was always my fondest wish to retire as an instructor or merchant that would help out the next generation of adventurers.

“Where I saw greed as the motivation for many others, mine was borne out of a desire to help. I am a practical man, sir-”

Hal put up a hand to stop him. “Call me Hal.”

The gnome bobbed his head. “As I was saying, Hal. I am a practical man. To leave me here without knowing my loyalties is to point a knife at your back. I know what you are now and I have heard the rumblings of a search for one such as you. With a misplaced word I could have those who seek you out hot on your trail.”

“Are you threatening me?” Hal asked, keeping his voice as calm and level as possible.

“No, merely pointing out the situation as it stands.” Though he spoke without a tremor in his voice, he was practically drenched in sweat. Beads of moisture glistened on the bald crown of his head, showing Hal just how frightened he was.

“The other option is you take me with you but then I’m a prisoner and you must bind me, feed me, keep watch over me, it is an exhausting process that I do not doubt you would wish to avoid.”

“There is always a third option,” Hal said. He didn’t mean for it to come across as threatening but the way Rondo shrunk away from him nearly made Hal laugh out loud.

You have unlocked Intimidation (Level 0).

While others would convince, you take a more direct approach. And by putting the fear of the Gods into an otherwise stalwart soul, you have embarked upon the ignoble art of getting your way by more direct means. Intimidation also allows you to quickly turn a combat situation in your favor by pacifying would-be assailants.

Your Intimidation has risen to Level 1.

+1% Intimidation success (+1%).

+1.25% Pacification chance (+1.25%).

“Y-yes there is. But I beg of you to consider a fourth option. A better option for all of us!” Rondo squeaked. When Hal didn’t say anything, he continued on.

“Murkmire has changed. The Guild used to be powerful. But every year the council makes subtle changes to the laws that weaken the Guild’s strength in the region. Fewer and fewer adventurer’s come through my doors and through the doors of the Guild.

“I can read the signs as well as anybody else. Each year I pay more in taxes and see less of these so-called improvements the council touts. The guard balloons in manpower and pay while the contracts for adventurers dry up. What I propose is you take me back into town - well-guarded of course! – and allow me to pack my things, close up shop and join you.

“I may not be able to swing a sword as well as I could in my younger days but I’ll be useful in other ways-”

Once more, Hal raised a hand to stop him. “Why the sudden change of heart? By your own admission, you just got through telling me that Mira tried to recruit you to come with us. And you turned her down.”

Taking a kerchief from his vest pocket the little gnome dabbed at his face and wiped his bald spot. “Well, yes. You have me there. But as I said, I am a practical man. And-”

“And the fear of death has caused you to rethink your priorities,” Hal finished for him. He sighed and shook his head. This was not how he wanted to do things.

Nobody should be coerced out of fear for their life to join him.

“No.” Hal said the word with such force that Rondo backpedaled into the chair and jumped when it made a loud scraping sound on the stone floor.

“A sword at somebody’s neck only works so long as that sword remains there,” Hal said. “I will not force you to come with us under that circumstance. We will make a final return to Murkmire later today. Once we do, you will be brought back to your home. What you choose to do after that is none of my concern, provided you tell nobody about us. I apologize for the rash actions of my companions. But I will not have you with us out of fear for your life.”

Hal motioned out the door to the mess hall. “There’s food if you’re hungry. Mira will stay with you and make sure nothing else happens until we’re ready to go. Isn’t that right, Mira?”

The Dragoon was at Rondo’s side in a flash, nodding her head exuberantly.

Your Intimidation has risen to Level 2.

+1% Intimidation success (+2%).

+1.25% Pacification chance (+2.50%).

Hal tried not to groan aloud. He was annoyed, not trying to be intimidating.

“B-but!” Rondo started to say.

Mira put a hand on Rondo’s shoulder and shook her head. “Let’s go get something to eat, huh?” As she guided the gnome out Mira shot an apologetic glance his way.

Hal was already walking up to Noth. Her icy façade crumbled the moment Hal looked to Ashera and said, “I need to speak to Noth. Alone.”

106

“What were you thinking Nothricient?”

Hearing her full name made the Reaper flinch. “I don’t know!” she cried. Her arms flung out. “I don’t understand any of these social rules you people have!

“She wanted him to come with us and I could see he wanted to go. He just needed an excuse, so I knocked him out and took him. Mira could have stopped me, you know.

“She could have put him back and tried to explain things. I doubt he would have called the guard on us. Besides, it all turned out okay in the end! I was only trying to help,” she finished the last sentence in a whisper.

Hal rubbed his temples and groaned. “No, Noth. It did not turn out okay.”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said, Noth. But now I have to worry about being tracked down by Rinbast or that Archmage and whatever else is gunning for me. You do know I’m not immortal right? If you killed me I would be dead. There’s no Manaseed to revive me this time, even if it did work a second time.”

“Then just kill the gnome.”

“That would be the easier way out,” Hal agreed. “But it is not something I’m willing to do. I will not take one single step down that dark path if I can avoid it.” He dropped his voice so only Noth could hear, just in case anybody may be listening in. “You know what I am. Who I am. Maybe he also thought that wrapping up a loose end would be preferable.

“After all, if I manage to create a Sanctum that makes the world a better place and helps people and those like the koblins who are simply misunderstood, the ends justify the means, right?

“What’s one old gnome who has already seen the best years of his life compared to the freedom and lives of countless other people who have it worse off?”

Noth’s frown turned into one of sorrowful sympathy. “And so you will not do the pragmatic thing because you fear it will darken your soul. You fear turning into him.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, never,” she finally said at length.

“Stay here,” Hal said. “I mean literally, do not leave this room until we leave for Murkmire. I don’t want Rondo to be even more terrified than he already is. If he doesn’t immediately go for the council or the Watch once he’s back at his shop I’ll be surprised.”

Hal was halfway out the door when he heard her call his name. He looked back at her, standing exactly in the same spot he told her to.

He was about to tell her that he wasn’t being literal when she took a few tentative steps forward. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was only trying to help. I thought he would be useful to you. I am sorry.”

He dragged a hand down his face, suddenly very tired. “It’s all right, Noth. I know you didn’t mean to cause a problem. But please try to be a little more careful?”

She nodded with a look of relief on her fair features.

It’s not right to punish her or be mad at her for not understanding how people function. Even normal people have trouble understanding how to properly act in accordance with local customs and laws.

“I’m going to finally get some replacement equipment for all of us and see what supplies Durvin has for the journey ahead. Did you want to come with me?”

“I thought you wanted me to stay away from Rondo?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Is this a test?”

Hal shook his head. “No test. You didn’t know any better, now you do. Besides, we’re not going to be anywhere near Rondo so that still holds true.”

“Then yes, I would like to wear something that is not from the skin of an animal.”

Your Leadership has risen to Level 18(23).

+1% Party damage (+23%).

+2% Leadership efficacy (+46%).

Your Persuasion has risen to Level 12.

+1% Persuasion success (+12%).

+0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (+6.0%).

Together the pair went to find Durvin who was looking over a large barrow stacked with opened crates and housing many guards in fine armor and weapons. “So ye finally remembered me!” the fiery dwarf barked upon seeing Hal.

“You’re very hard to forget, Durvin,” Hal said with a grin. “Now, show me what you’ve got to offer. Something in the light armor category, nothing too heavy for me.”

Durvin looked him up and down. “Ye mean like a fancy-pants caster type? Might as well wear the garb I already gave ye!”

Hal chuckled at the obvious disdain. “Not exactly. I’m looking for as much armor as you can give me while keeping nimble. Got anything in mind?”

“Might’n have what yer looking fer. Come here and have a gander.” Durvin called him over to a long table with all manner of armor laid out across it.

Being dwarven-made, the items were in every shape and fashion of metal that was possible. From chain metal shirts so supple that they flowed through Hal’s hand like water to heavy interlocking plates of metal that Hal couldn’t even lift to put on.

The defense on the items was far and away better than anything he was used to. Durvin had everything for nearly any major Class. Seeing it all, Hal started to think on a grander scope than his specific armaments.

A militia would need weapons, armor, munitions, and supplies. Guards to keep the peace would need them as well. This wasn’t just outfitting himself and his party anymore.

“How much for the lot?” Hal asked.

Durvin looked up at him curiously. “Ye can’t wear it all, boy.”

“I don’t plan on it.”

“Ah,” Durvin said, nodding along. “Now yer thinkin’ like a leader! Takes a different view o’ things, don’t it?” The bronze-bearded dwarf rubbed his hands together looking over everything and then stuck two fingers into his mouth and blew a loud, shrill whistle.

A moment later, a bald-headed dwarf with a long white beard tied into five thick braids set with large metal ornaments came into the room. “Ye called, me-”

Durvin waved away the rest of whatever the man was about to say. “No time fer pleasantries, Ferras! Ye got the bills from the various clans?”

“Of course,” the older dwarf replied. He had a refined accent compared to Durvin and now that he was up close, Hal could see a tiny set of spectacles perched on his long pointed nose.

“If we were to sell all the wares at our usual price, how much would that run us?”

Ferras looked at Hal, then back at Durvin.

“They’re the ones’re buyin’ the durned things! O’ course I don’t mind if they hear. I ain’t a sneak,” Durvin bellowed to the unasked question.

The two of them were developing an understanding. Durvin knew what it meant to lead and Hal could see the way the other dwarves looked up to their leader. Even when he was forced to do some very undwarf-like things, Hal never saw their faith in him waiver.

Hal found himself wanting to help him and he didn’t doubt that the dwarf was warming to him as well. Together they could do a lot more than either could apart. And from what Hal could piece together, Bouldergut wasn’t the highest on the totem pole back in their home of Anvil.

This new Sanctum provided both of them with an opportunity to prove their worth and make something truly great. Just looking at the excellent craftsmanship of the armors Durvin laid out was enough to convince Hal that they would create a city unrivaled in beauty and strength.

All he had to do was get them there.

“About forty-two thousand sparks,” Ferras said after taking out a few sheets from his robe and looking them over. “But that’d be for all o’ it. A year’s worth.”

Hal looked at Durvin. “We’ll take it all.”

Ferras practically swooned but Durvin caught him and steered him over to a chair. “Put a durned lid on it!” he growled at the older man. “Ye see what I’m dealin’ with here?” he said to Hal, motioning to the older dwarf. “Now ye knowin’ the truth o’ the matter. How many dwarves do ye need?”

The older dwarf swallowed hard and regained his composure. “Seven. I know precisely who, if ye’ll allow me?”

“Go on then,” Durvin said. “Take yer pick.”

Ferras hopped out of the chair so fast Hal thought he was going to pitch forward and fall on his face. Instead, he hurried out of the room faster than he’d ever seen a dwarf move.

Durvin eyed Hal up and down then motioned to the various crates. “They’re all yers. Once ye pay o’ course.”

Noth looked at the pair. “I do not understand.”

“What don’t ye get, lass?”

“You are forming a partnership, yes?” Noth peeked at some of the heavier breastplates at the table. She walked to one and picked it up, one that Hal hadn’t been able to even with his increased STR.

“What of it?” Durvin asked.

“If you both are forming a mutually beneficial pact, why does he need to pay for these items?” Noth set down the breastplate with an appreciative nod. “These items will strengthen both of your aims. It seems… odd to charge money for it. Money that may – as I am to understand – be used for supplies that a town might need.”

Durvin stroked his short beard thoughtfully. “People can’t be goin’ about tradin’ chickens and pretty rocks, lass. Ye got to have an economy o’ some kind or else ye got nothin’ and sparks be a good form o’ payment.”

“That is not what I-” Noth began, but Durvin raised a hand to forestall her.

“I know, lass, I know,” he said. “What I mean is, we can’t be givin’ this away. Ye got the right of it, it would be better if’n I could just give it all away to the boy here and be done with it. Dagdamora knows he could put it to some good use. But that ain’t the point.”

“Then what is the point?” Noth asked, hands on her hips.

“The point, lass, is to have an economy ye got to have circulation o’ goods and coin. The boy will get use o’ the goods. And with the coin yer givin’ us we’ll spend it on goods yer lot no doubt has to trade. That is how an economy be born.

“And it goes without sayin’, a fair bit o’ this stuff ain’t ours. If’n I gave it all away, that would be theft. And I ain’t no durned thief!”

107

“So, you will trade items back and forth for sparks. Ultimately moving the money around so that functionally, the difference is practically the same as if you were to give the items to Hal?” Noth asked after another lengthy explanation.

“Ye go the right o’ it. Moving the money around is necessary,” Durvin said as if he was explaining that air or water was necessary for life. “Ye stop the flow and just like yer blood, the thing dies.

“It may be slow but it’ll die all the same. Seen it time and time again with them durned human nobles always hoarding their money and taxin’ their people more. Ain’t no movin’ money soon and they wonder why the kingdom collapses!”

Noth shrugged. “Perhaps it is a mortal thing I will understand in time.” She eyed the breastplate she had picked up earlier. “So that means that all of these items are now Hal’s property?”

“Once he pays,” Durvin agreed.

“Then I should like this piece of armor,” she said.

“Go on then,” Hal said, motioning for her to take it. “I’ll return with the money.”

Hal was halfway across the camp when he heard Durvin’s loud yell. “Don’t ye be changin’ right in front of me girl! Get yerself behind that screen!”

I really should find a way to give her some basic lessons on decorum and how to conduct herself. It must be so odd to suddenly be moral, to feel emotions after so many countless years of never needing to worry about any of that. Heck, she didn’t even need to worry about gravity before.

Hal returned to their rooms and walked right up to Vorax, imparting a friendly greeting and inquiring how the mimic had been. He couldn’t keep pretending the mimic was anything but a very nice chest for long. But there had been enough surprises and upheavals for a little while.

Once they were on the road, he’d tell Durvin.

Vorax seemed to come out of a stupor, though Hal quickly understood that wasn’t the right word. Mimics slept over long periods of inactivity, sometimes decades at a time, which Vorax imparted to him through a series of images and sensations that Hal had to translate.

“Sleeping,” Hal said with a chuckle. “You were sleeping, got it. I’m sorry for waking you buddy, but could you give me those sparks you found earlier? I promise you can go back to your beauty rest after.”

Always eager to please, Vorax coughed out a small velvet pouch. It hit the ground with a muffled clink. Hal didn’t question where the mimic got the pouch from and considering he was going to immediately give it to Durvin, he didn’t much care.

“Thanks, Vorax.” He pet the mimic’s lid and marched out of the room to find Ashera and Elora.

“Where have you been?” Elora asked him when he approached. They were still in the mess hall, even though lunch was long over. Elora, Mira, and Ashera were sitting at a table with the old gnome and talking like they were all old friends.

“Dealing with Durvin,” Hal answered. “I’ve arranged for the sale of his entire stock. Most of it is armaments but I spotted some tools in there too. The quality is unlike anything we’re going to be able to get in town so I offered to buy the whole thing. Only….”

“Only you don’t have enough,” Rondo chimed in. “You know, I would be happy to chip in.”

Hal shook his head. He did have enough money to cover the costs himself. But there was more to buy than the wares of the dwarves. They still needed supplies for the trip and for the settlement once they arrived.

Even if he covered everything right now, he would still need to go around pooling money for the supplies. Better to get it over with now.

“I’m not taking your money,” Hal said. Why was this so hard? Shouldn’t the gnome want to go back home? “This isn’t a ransom. But no, with the earnings from the Coffin Contract we could easily afford it. I was suggesting that we pool our resources to buy this and the supplies we’ll need.”

Mira turned around, kicking her legs out over the bench to face Hal. “How much is the total for Durvin’s wares?”

“Forty-two grand,” Hal said.

Each of their eyes widened in shock. All except Rondo who seemed to have a decent measure on what dwarven-made goods likely cost.

“We could split it four ways, each of us paying about ten thousand,” Mira offered. “That’d barely touch our gains from the Contract, not to mention the loot from the Shoggoth and everything else. If it helps the cause I’d empty out my entire purse.”

Both Ashera and Elora nodded their agreement, and once again for reasons Hal didn’t understand, so too did the gnome.

“Not to mention we have a lot of loot to get rid of,” Mira continued. “I bet we could get that down by a fair margin if we pooled everything the dwarves might want to buy.”

What they needed was a pooled coffer or treasury. He idly wondered if Vorax would like to be his treasurer.

That put a grin on his face.

“Let’s all go visit Durvin then,” Mira said, rising to stand beside Hal. “Get this all sorted out quick-like. Head back into town to pick up Rondo’s things….”

Rondo was aggressively trying to signal for Mira to shut up.

Hal looked to one, then the other. “He’s not coming with us. We’ve got enough non-combatants as it is.” He looked around the half-empty mess hall. “Which reminds me, where is Luda and her half-dozen?”

“They’re with Yesel,” Elora said.

He was honestly surprised – and relieved – that the young girl had left him alone. “Rondo stays here,” Hal reiterated.

The gnome put a hand over his heart. “As you wish. I won’t move from this spot!”

Hal didn’t know what to make of the gnome and his sudden turn-around. It worried him more than a little that it was Stockholm syndrome. Though he hadn’t been held captive nearly long enough, had he?

Shaking his head, Hal led them all back to Durvin where each of them pitched in to complete the sale. That left Hal with a sizeable amount left and his inventory was still full of loot and other items he didn’t need.

Ashera, Elora, Mira, and Hal all took an empty table for themselves and emptied their inventories out to sort through what they wanted to keep and what they wanted to sell.

Once Hal emptied out his gobbiecoins, Durvin’s eyes went wide. “Don’t see much o’ these anymore,” he said lifting a [Gold Gobbiecoin] up and biting it. “Real gold too. I’ll be durned.”

“What worth are they with sparks as the main currency?” Hal asked.

“Well, not all folk enjoy the simplicity o’ sparks. There be some people who like to collect as well. Weird folk. Typically though? Goin’ rate is one Bronze Gobbiecoin to one spark. Ten bronze to a silver, ten silver to a gold, ten gold to a platinum, though I ain’t seein’ any platinum here.”

Hal shook his head. “I don’t have any.”

Durvin shifted the coins around counting them out. “The coins alone are worth a bit over three thousand.”

Out of a weird sense of sentimentality, Hal kept a single bronze coin and pushed the rest to the side of his “sell” pile. Along with it, he put a host of other items.

Hal kept the important piece, the codices, all of Thirty-seven’s gear, and anything else he thought of as more valuable to keep than to sell.

“Ye got yerself a lot o’ unidentified things here. I got the Identify skill if’n ye want me to have a gander,” Durvin said, already beginning to examine the pair of [Unidentified Boots].

When all was said and done Hal earned 2,000 more sparks than he spent and gained a new piece of gear from Durvin identifying the three pieces of loot.

Of the three, only the [Shaper’s Coat] was any use. He would have taken the [Caster’s Boots] as well but he preferred his [Leaping Boots], so he offered those to Ashera who gladly took them.

The third piece of unidentified equipment turned into a pair of heavily armored boots that nobody wanted. Hal was about to sell those too until he saw the glint in Durvin’s eyes and instead gave them to the man as a gift.

Hal added the [Adventurer’s Kits] to the growing pile of items for his Sanctum, keeping a single for himself since the items within were so useful. Durvin took his axe to the two locked chests from the goblin cave, revealing a sizeable assortment of jewels that dazzled the bronze-eyed dwarf.

Durvin motioned to Noth. “This be how an economy is birthed.” He sighed contentedly and wiped the mist from his eyes. “It’s a beautiful thing to see.”

Among them, only Durvin and Ashera had the Appraisal ability which allowed them to have a fairly accurate estimate of an item’s worth.

“How did you get that ability?” Hal asked.

“Ye’ll get it from buyin’ an’ sellin’ a lot or dealing with expensive items. Part o’ the Mercantile skill.”

Which appeared a moment later almost as if Durvin summoned the prompt.

You unlocked Mercantile (Level 0).

Trade is the lifeblood of all civilized nations. More important than land, deadlier than any war, trading can make or break a nation.

Your Mercantile has risen to Level 1.

+1% Sale price over buyer’s skill (+1%).

-0.5% Purchase price over seller’s skill (-0.5%).

Durvin chuckled. “Looks like ye just got it. Well, out with it boy!”

Hal furrowed his brow. “Yeah, I did.”

“Faster’n most I seen.”

“So to determine the price of something it compares my Mercantile Skill against somebody else’s?”

“Ye got the gist of it,” Durvin answered, sifting through the piles of bought loot. Another few dwarves were packing the things up into crates to ship back with Ferras when he made his trek back to Anvil.

Each of them – aside from Durvin – had also taken the time to sort through the wide assortment of items Hal purchased in bulk from Clan Bouldergut. They all sported brand-new equipment that gave the rush of progression and that unique thrill of anticipation that came with wanting to test out a new piece of gear in battle.

Hal strapped his silvery bracers on, feeling the comfortable weight of them on his forearms and once more hiding his Founder’s mark. “One last stop to make before we leave,” Hal said.

“The Gone Goose?” Elora asked.

“Yeah,” Hal answered, a somber mood coming over the group. “The Gone Goose.”

108

Hal left instructions with Durvin to give to a separate group of dwarves that would go into town and buy all the supplies they would need. With Hal’s purse given over for the purchase of said supplies, the dwarven leader didn’t feel the need to accompany the group back into Murkmire.

If anything, the sparks Hal gave over to Durvin - collected from Ashera, Mira, and Elora amounting to roughly 100,000 - were enough that if anybody should be concerned it would be Hal.

That was everything they had between them. Aside from what Hal spent on himself, that was all their earnings from the Contract and the various battles beneath Murkmire. If they had needed it, he could have sold a plot or a building in the Coffin District but that would come at significant risk.

He didn’t want anybody finding out who the owner was if he could avoid it. At least not until he had a stable base. Considering his new reputation of Malcontent with the Loyalists, he wasn’t keen on taking any chances.

Durvin already had black market contacts and having the dwarves purchase the supplies needed for their new Sanctum seemed the smart play here. Nobody would bat an eye at the industrious race buying up large amounts of tools and building supplies.

And without any relation to Hal - unlike the Rangers - suspicion should be averted and the dwarves would only have to deal with many tons of building materials instead of worrying about an ambush or double-cross.

Any more than they already did, of course. It was a black market deal, after all.

It was almost dusk by the time Hal’s party made it into Murkmire before the gate closed for the night. Each person was more thoroughly inspected upon entry. Hal once more used his elven guise with bright green eyes and long black hair tied back into a loose ponytail.

He felt comfortable in it. The façade was close enough to his actual features without being so similar that he might be mistaken for his human self. At the same time, he had a similar build and height that he didn’t feel disoriented just walking around.

Hal and Noth walked through the front gates together while Mira, Ashera, Rondo, and Elora tagged along with the dwarven group through the secret tunnels beneath Murkmire.

Considering the added scrutiny at the gate, Hal figured the extra precaution was worth it. The two groups joined up soon after and the six made their way back to the Gone Goose while they kept the tiny gnome in the middle of their group.

“I’m not going to run,” Rondo squeaked. “Really, this is all quite unnecessary!”

“Hush,” Mira said. “You heard the boss. We’re going to check in on the Gone Goose, then the koblins, then we’ll drop you off at your shop. No harm, no foul.”

“Say that to the lump on my head,” Rondo said with a chuckle.

“I… am sorry for acting so rashly,” Noth said, staring at her boots.

“Ah, it’s all right,” Rondo said. “I get it, you were trying to help Mira out. She always did inspire quite a lot of loyalty. I accept your apology.”

“You’re still not coming with us,” Hal said. That drew a grumble from the gnome. “And I don’t want you helping him either, Mira.”

“Yes, dad.”

They marched up the emptying streets as night took hold of the Sanctuary. Taverns began to fill up, light spilling out of them on every corner. The sounds and sights of people getting out of work to blow off steam or just enjoy a good time filtered out into the street.

Hal saw more of the Murkmire Watch patrolling the streets, moving along the unfortunate people sleeping in the gutters and forcing them into alleyways and out of sight.

It reminded him of the refugees. And as they climbed through each of the Rings of Murkmire, Hal used his [Sending Stone] to talk to Leis, the woman who had given him the thing in the first place.

He told her them about the koblins and where they were staying. He offered them the same deal as the koblins. If they wanted, they could have homes in the Coffin District. Provided they were okay with living alongside koblins, all they would have to say to them is that Hal sent them.

The children already loved the koblins, many of them had been asking about the strange creatures ever since the kids were reunited with the survivors from their village.

When he told them that he would be leaving for a while, he feared they would ask to be taken with him. But the only question that was asked was, “Is it dangerous?” and when he said yes, that was the end of it.

If everything went to plan, he’d be back in a couple of months – sooner if he could - to offer the refugees and the koblins a new home.

A better home.

If everything goes to plan, he reminded himself. Which, he knew intimately, that it would not in all likelihood. Nothing ever did.

Nobody was surprised when they reached the Gone Goose and found its lights off. The door was shut and a hastily painted wooden sign hung in the window saying, “Gone Adventurin’”.

“He’s really gone,” Elora said. “I don’t know… what I expected. That we’d come across him still polishing glasses with the Gone Goose filled with patrons? He died. I know he died and still….”

Ashera put an arm around her and pulled her close, smoothing Elora’s blonde hair. “It’s only normal to wish for the best. But Hal did say the Matron would track down any living kin and make sure the money from the contract went to them.”

“Maybe just a quick peek?” Mira asked.

Hal looked at Elora. “Can you get us in quickly and quietly? At the very least we should get rid of the contraband in that back room.”

Elora took a shaky breath and steeled herself, scrubbing a half-gloved hand over her face. “Hal’s right. It’s not like being a Tavernkeeper was likely to run in his family. Or that he’d have a twin brother with the same desire to run a tavern that would just show up. We need to get rid of the evidence and make sure any officials looking into the place find nothing to harm Giel’s good name.”

“Yes,” Mira said with an odd light in her eyes, “that would be totally weird. A twin brother that looked exactly like him and even wanted to go adventuring like he did.”

It sounded like a few of the Dungeons and Dragons campaigns Hal used to play in. Looking at it from an objective standpoint, a lot of campaigns had an overabundance of twins with the same Classes and skills.

“That was childishly easy,” said Elora. Before Hal realized what was going on, the door was opened and everybody was filing inside the dark interior.

They walked within the quiet place like they were in a mausoleum. It felt so wrong. There should be music. Laughter. Cheers ringing in the rafters, drinks being toasted.

It was such a stark contrast to the last time he was here.

Mira looked around. “I’ve only been here once or twice… always liked it though.” She placed a hand on Rondo’s shoulder and guided him over to a chair out of sight of the windows. “Let’s park it over here. I have a feeling they have some personal business to attend to.”

With a nod of thanks, Hal hurried up to the second floor to the bar and the hidden room behind it.

It took them hours to box everything up and remove any trace of subversive doctrines or rebellious paraphernalia. Hal’s Shifting Mask dropped and he kept it off. No use in wasting MP.

Noth didn’t know Giel, she knew him even less than Mira. But she helped them without complaint or concern for herself.

They divided what they could up amongst their inventories, with the agreement that they would leave any non-incriminating personal effects with the Adventurer’s Guild.

The rest they would put in a chest back at camp and decide what to do with later. Nobody had the heart to flat-out throw anything away. And besides, Giel had a surprising amount of useful items. Many of which were in small, ornate coffers. Though no equipment that they could find.

Once the room was cleared out, they came out of the back to find Rondo and Mira drinking and carrying a low conversation around a lone candle in the back of the tavern.

“I’ll go check upstairs,” Hal said.

Elora followed him while Ashera and Noth went to join the others. Together they searched for Giel’s private rooms. Once found, Elora opened it and even disarmed a small trap.

As soon as the door was open, they slipped inside. Elora went to the closet door checking it for traps while Hal went immediately to the nightstand. The room was well-kept. The sheets pulled tight onto the large four-poster bed and an air of lived-in comfort filled the cold room.

But the nightstand held a picture that tugged at Hal. He lifted it and immediately slipped the strange photo out from the back. Just as he placed it into the drawer Elora came over.

“Nothing in the closet, what’d you find?” she asked, looking around him at the opened drawer.

“Nothing,” Hal said, slipping the photo into his pocket as he shut the drawer.

Elora looked at him curiously, then shrugged. “All right, keep looking. This is the least we could do for him.”

Your Deception has risen to Level 6.

+1% Deception success (+6%).

+0.5% Deception awareness (+3.0%).

-0.5% Reputation loss (-3.0%).

Hal nodded, feeling worse for the prompt that he saw pop up. “He was our friend.”

“Thank you for doing this, Hal,” she said. In a rare display of tenderness, she placed a hand gently on his arm. “I know we’re risking a lot coming back into Murkmire… but this is important to me.”

“I wanted to help. This is the right thing to do.”

Together they scoured the rest of the room but found nothing of note. At least, nothing that would suggest Giel was anything more than an upstanding Tavernkeeper.

Elora went to the door, looking back at Hal. “You need a moment?”

“I’ll be down in a second,” he said softly.

The Ranger gave him a comforting smile that made him feel a little guilty and then slipped away noiselessly out into the hall. He needed a moment, but not for the reason she thought.

Alone, he took out the photograph. Standing next to the window he stared at six smiling faces all cheering and waving at the camera. It was like one of those old sepia-toned photos from the wild west. Except the people in it were moving around, waving and strangely alive.

Like the photograph captured a tiny slice of their vital energies. This wasn’t a simple looping video or a GIF, it was something much more. Thirty-seven stared back at him waving and sometimes ruffling young Giel’s hair.

Little Giel clung to his mother or sometimes was passed to his father who looked like a smaller version of the man Giel would grow to be. Tormand, he thought his name was.

On the other side of Thirty-seven was a beautiful woman who he instantly recognized as a younger Matron Madrasil. And barely in the shot, almost always trying to hide behind her mother’s skirt… was Ashera.

He was sure of it. The photo was old but lovingly cared for from the lack of damage. He wondered when it was taken but when he flipped it over to the back, he didn’t find any dates. Only a note scribbled, “The New Dawn. L7-R8-L9-R4.”

When he flipped the photo back over, the child form of Ashera was gone. Matron Madrasil, obviously her mother, was shaking her head. Her shoulders bobbed with silent laughter as she walked off the photo and disappeared.

A moment later she had little Ashera up in her arms as she walked back into frame to stand beside Thirty-seven. There was a familiarity there, a longing in the way the pair looked at each other that made Hal feel more than a little uneasy.

He put the photo away, deciding he couldn’t throw it away. It was weird seeing his own face on Thirty-seven smiling and laughing, waving at the camera. He had so many questions.

When Hal came down the steps ten minutes later, he had donned his elven disguise once more.

They left soon after. The group wove through the streets as the nighttime crowds began to clog the avenues leading up to the Cloud Ring, where the Coffin District and the koblins were at.

A pair of guards were posted at the entrance to the district, and right beside each of them were two koblins imitating them as best as they could. It melted Hal’s heart. Even the stoic guards seemed to have a slight grin.

Koblins had a way of doing that.

But it wasn’t enough for Hal. Thirty-seven’s memories of the corruption within Murkmire and his own experiences made him worry for the kind-hearted koblins.

He needed to be sure. There was no way he would be able to leave them in Murkmire without personally looking in on them to make sure they were settling in okay and that Qalmor was true to his word.

Hal barely made it within fifty feet of the entrance before the two koblins shouted with glee, startling the two guardsmen. They sprinted on their little bandy legs toward him.

Hal sank to a knee to get on their level and greeted them. Thankfully, none of them called him by his name and after a short but fervent greeting, they promptly dragged him toward the entrance.

If Hal ever had any thoughts of sneaking in, they were completely abandoned now. The rest followed behind, each trying not to laugh at the scene. Hal imagined it looked like two exuberant children pulling their idolized big brother along to show them something they were proud of.

And they indeed had a lot to be proud of.

The koblins were barely in Murkmire for half a day when Hal came back but the changes they made already were unbelievable. He barely recognized the Coffin District.

As he was escorted in, Hal saw several homes and businesses were already cleared out. Tall poles festooned with nets of glowing stones served as makeshift street lamps.

Every koblin was busy doing something. Some were cleaning, others were repairing with tiny hammers, nails, or using a trowel and mortar to repair cracks in the stone structures.

Where did they get tools?

The entire district felt alive in a way Hal never expected to see it. The koblin guards pointed out what each of the buildings was being used for.

It warmed Hal’s heart to see a couple of refugees already among the koblins and more than a couple of the Murkmire Watch patrolling the streets. Each person Hal saw had a look of astonishment on their face. Hal couldn’t begin to imagine the progress they’d make with the rundown district in a week, let alone a month.

Though he hoped they wouldn’t be here much longer than that. Unlike before, the koblins did not mob him. They cheerily waved or came up to show him what they were working on but immediately went back to work.

Sparkspox was in one of the first buildings, a general store that they cleared out and placed crudely fashioned tables out of rotted planking scavenged from nearby buildings. On the tables were several hastily scribbled architectural drawings.

From her table, Sparkspox was instructing a group of koblins on what building they were to renovate next for use as a communal home. Rather than entertaining the koblins as Hal assumed Altres would prefer, the tiefling staggered out of a back room carrying a very heavy set of crates.

Unfortunately, he had no time to talk aside from a simple - and fond - greeting, before Sparkspox told him where to take the materials.

Already little accents were placed to make the district and its few cleared buildings more like homes. The koblins were good at that.

“Thank you,” Hal said to the two guards as they escorted him out. Sparkspox gave him an exuberant wave but she was so busy she immediately went back to work. “I guess I was worried for nothing. You’re all so busy.”

He felt a warmth swell in his chest. A sense of pride that the koblins were doing so well. He had been so needlessly worried that they were all shivering and holed up in a broken-down shack without any idea what to do.

This was better than he could have ever hoped for.

Every koblin seemed to know their place and what they were supposed to do. It was rather amazing to watch them rush around talking and sometimes singing their silly koblins songs as they worked.

Even Hal’s arrival did little more than pause their tasks for the time it took to greet him before they resumed their work.

Hal had never seen them so single-minded.

“Psshkosh,” the koblin on his left said as they guided him back toward the exit. “Hal-savior furrow-brows muchly for nothing! Kobbies make Hal-savior heart-swell.”

“Heart-swell?” Elora asked at his side.

The other koblin looked up at her. “Psshkooh… is like ‘proud’!”

“I already am,” he said with a smile. “Thank you for escorting me inside. You’re both doing an excellent job guarding.”

With that, they left for Rondo’s shop. The whole time the gnome had been silently shaking his head in wonder. “Amazing,” he muttered. For once at a loss for words.

Hal walked taller and prouder on their way through Murkmire. A massive weight was lifted from his shoulders. He felt confident there was nothing to worry about now. Despite how well the koblins were doing, Hal felt reassured that he was right to trust Qalmor.

Maybe he’d like a promotion, he idly wondered. His Sanctum could use a man that managed to stay honorable and fair in a place like Murkmire.

When he saw the koblins again, it would be to take them to a new home. A place he hoped would deserve their kind little hearts.

“Did you see that koblin with the stick pretending it was a spear like that guard had?” Mira cooed. “Nobody ever told me they were so adorable!” She gripped the purple and gold-hem of Hal’s [Shaper’s Coat] sleeve and shook him. “They’re so precious, we must protect them at all costs!”

They swung by Rondo’s shop on the way out of town, bidding goodbye to the gnome while Hal watched to make sure somebody didn’t try to sneak him into a sack and smuggle him back to camp.

He had no idea why the gnome suddenly wanted to join them so badly or why Ashera or Elora seemed keen on helping. Noth and Mira were suspiciously quiet about the whole affair. Maybe he was being irrational about the whole thing and Rondo really did have good intentions.

In the end, he didn’t quite know how he felt on the matter anymore.

If the gnome had asked him once more to come along, he might have said yes. Perhaps it was the effect the koblins had on him, the optimism and friendliness they evoked in others was infectious.

But Rondo didn’t and the little gnome merely said his goodbyes and slipped inside his shop looking a bit forlorn.

Trusting to Elora’s keen sense of direction, they backtracked to the smuggling tunnels the rest of them had used to get into Murkmire.

When they returned to the Bouldergut camp, the industrious dwarves were already packing up everything onto large wooden wagons shaped like little houses. They even had a pair of windows on each side and a sloped shingled roof.

Hal expected to find horses or oxen that would pull the carts. What he saw instead were large intelligent-looking birds with a variety of plumage from yellow to black. Their large, slightly scooped beaks gave them the appearance of a coy smile.

“What… are those?” Hal asked.

“Karaks,” Elora answered. “Though I’ve never been this close to one before.” She moved in hesitantly to a red feathered karak. It regarded her curiously at first but when she gingerly bowed to it, the bird returned the gesture and then disregarded her entirely.

Elora approached it and gently brushed her hand over its thick feathers. “They’re so soft!” She sounded like a little girl with so much wonder and joy in her voice.

I bet she would’ve been really into horses on Earth, Hal thought. There was always one person that was deeply into horses in every group.

“Aye,” Durvin said, patting one of the karaks on the leg since he couldn’t reach up to the six-foot-high rump of the bird. “Sturdy creatures. Can haul more than any other beast that don’t bite ya back. And smart as a whip too, bet they even understand what we’re talkin’ about right now!”

One of them was watching Hal, almost as if it were daring him to doubt Durvin’s claim. Hal decided to keep his mouth shut just in case the creature could understand him.

They were about to embark on a long journey with the birds. He didn’t want to get on their bad side.

“That’s amazing,” he said, looking over the creatures. “Do we really need so many wagons though?”

Durvin raised a bronze brow at him. “Ye thinkin’ about walking the whole durned way? I ain’t got yer legs, boy! A dwarf can get up to good speed once we get movin’ but there ain’t no need fer it if ye got some karaks! They’ll make the journey in half the time, even pullin’ all us along.”

Hal was beginning to understand. Not once did the financially conscientious dwarf mention anything about how much it cost to get them though. That made Hal more than a little worried.

“How much did they cost?” Hal asked, suddenly doubting the wisdom in giving Durvin their entire purse to get the list of supplies they had agreed upon.

“Well, about that,” Durvin said, looking at the birds with pride. “Think of ‘em as an investment.”

“If they survive the trip.”

“Well o’ course! A karak is twice as likely to survive the trip as a horse or a common beast. They’ll keep for years to come! Dagdamora, boy, yer as bad as Ferras with yer pursestrings! I got yer durned supplies, didn’t I? Ye wanna be ranging the wilds for months or do ye want to get this done with quick-like?”

Hal pinched the bridge of his nose. “How much were they, Durvin?”

“Sandstone! Fine, boy. Ye wanna know so bad? They were five thousand.”

“Each?”

“O’ course, each! They’re fine animals. Finest around.” Durvin’s voice dropped to a mumble but Hal could still hear it. “Always wanted a karak of me own.”

With ten wagons, each pulled by a single karak that sent them back 50,000 sparks. That was nearly half of what he gave Durvin for all of the supplies. And he didn’t mention how much the very opulent looking wagons cost either.

The only thing that gave Hal a bit of comfort was that Durvin said he did get the supplies. That was the important thing. If they didn’t have any sparks leftover that was okay.

We could always make a detour to a monster’s nest to make some more.

109

With their list of contacts, the dwarves were able to get every last item on Hal’s list. They even added a few things he didn’t even think of. Hal was right though, they hardly had two sparks to rub together when the final tally came in.

But it turned out that the Boulderguts had chipped in a considerable amount for the wagons as well.

In the end, Hal realized it didn’t matter. They had everything they set out for. All the supplies that the rebels had stockpiled were gone, but they were replaced with over five dozen sturdy dwarves and likely better tools and materials.

They were in an even better position to start a Sanctum than if they had come to Murkmire and left with the supplies immediately. Hal was much stronger after the Contract as well. And all it took was a rough week of setbacks and the loss of a new friend.

He couldn’t get the image of the photo out of his mind. Thirty-seven was Hal’s age in that image. If Giel remembered him, he would have known that Hal was the spitting image of the man. It was little wonder that he kept staring at him.

How come he never said anything? He somehow felt worse for Giel’s loss because of that photo. Did the lamora trust Hal because he looked like Thirty-seven? There were so many questions and nobody to answer them.

In typical dwarven fashion, their last meal at the Bouldergut camp was a feast. Roast beef, ribs slathered in smoky red sauce, thick cuts of flame-kissed steak with roasted potatoes and melted butter. And, of course, no feast was complete without dwarven “holy water.”

Every tankard overflowed that night.

Durvin would often laugh and nudge Hal a little too hard in the ribs, saying, “Drink up, boy! We’ll make the trek even faster if’n we lighten the load by downin’ all these kegs o’ holy water!”

And so they drank, and feasted, and had one final night of frivolity and celebration before the dangerous journey would begin the next morning.

They toasted to Giel. To Alquist. To the Rangers, the dwarves, the koblins, and of course each other. By the time they were done, there wasn’t a blade of grass for a mile around that wasn’t recognized or honored in one toast or another

Everything was a blur to Hal. He couldn’t ever remember a time he felt so free, so optimistic about the future. Surrounded by good friends, and embarking on a quest to make a home in Aldim, Hal could not have been more hopeful.

That night he slept without a care in the world. And if the morning came too soon and too loud for his taste, he suffered it all with a smile because he knew the truth of it all.

This was his family. Mingled races and different creeds but one family.

“Up we go,” Hal said as he hoisted Vorax up into the rear of their wagon. “You’ll be safe here to take a nice long nap. Won’t be much need for walking.”

The mimic imparted its trust in Hal and that it rather liked being stacked with the various crates. It felt cozy to the creature. Not too much different than a soft bed and a thick comforter was to Hal. It was so early it was still dark out. Everybody agreed it would be best to be gone before the sun rose. Just in case.

“You have befriended a mimic,” Luda said from behind him. “You are full of surprises.”

Hal’s heart skipped a beat and he turned around to regard the girl who seemed to just appear wherever she pleased.

She was dressed in clean, presentable clothes and wore a white wide-brimmed sun hat. Though the colors and designs of everything but her hat were obviously dwarven with their somber colors and geometric patterns.

Luda blushed. “I apologize. I did not mean to startle you. And I will say nothing about the mimic. He has a kind soul, and I can tell he poses no threat to us.”

Hal cocked an eyebrow at that.

It wasn’t like he didn’t already know Vorax wasn’t a typical monster but it still felt good to have another’s opinion echo his own. “It’s all right, Luda. What can I do for you? It hadn’t escaped my notice that while we’ve been preparing to leave you’ve been keeping your distance.”

“Just so,” she said with a nod. “I could sense how much this meant to you and I did not wish to be an extra burden. Now that things appear to be in motion, I wondered if I could trouble you with a simple request?”

Hal leaned against the back of the wagon. “Let’s hear it.”

“I would appreciate it if I could stay with your group. While we ride and during resting. I am not asking to accompany you beyond the safety of the caravan but I would… feel better if I was in the company of those you trusted most.”

“Did something happen?” Hal asked, coming away from the wagon. “Did somebody say or do something threatening or suspicious?”

“No, no,” Luda said, shaking her long red curls. “Nothing like that. I have nothing against the dwarves. It is only a personal request. And I will do my utmost to contribute and stay out of your way if that is your wish.”

Hal looked over his shoulder at their wagon. They were marvels of engineering with six metal-rimmed wagon wheels and flooring that pulled up to reveal a large cargo space.

Practically an apartment on wheels, each wagon had fold-down beds along the walls, separated into two main rooms. One for sleeping and a common area for eating with a bolted-down table.

Hal’s group wouldn’t be too badly pressed for space. The wagons were huge after all. Even crammed together in one wagon, they could ride most of the way which would still be faster than any other method. “Of course you can stay with us,” Hal answered.

Luda closed the few feet between them and practically tackled him around the middle in a tight hug. As light and small as she was, the force of her sudden impact still moved Hal a few inches along the slick dewy grass.

Hal placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “I know I’ve been busy lately but if you ever need to talk….”

Luda quickly released her grip, brushed the moisture from her bright crystalline-blue eyes, and nodded. “I’d like that. It… can be lonely sometimes.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Hal said, trying to give her a reassuring smile.

He didn’t know much about her past. Truthfully, he was too busy lately to spare a thought for the poor girl. But the way everybody treated her, like she was this holy relic that the slightest breeze might break, must be isolating. She was still just a young girl, couldn’t be older than fourteen or fifteen.

“Are we… friends?” she asked with such uncertainty that it could have broken even the hardest dwarven heart in two.

“Of course we are,” Hal said as if that was obvious. “I wouldn’t let somebody who wasn’t my friend ride with me on a road trip.”

“What’s a road trip?”

Hal chuckled. “Never mind, just an old saying from my home. Go put your things into the wagon.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder at it. “This’ll be your home for the next month.”

As Hal went to finish packing, he imparted a request to Vorax. Watch her for me, will you? Let me know if she tries to do something suspicious or if somebody tries to hurt her.

Vorax was confused by the duality of the statement at first but eventually, the mimic understood what Hal wanted.

The rest of the packing went by in a stream of tiny problems and various last-minute issues that nobody thought of. Ten of the Bouldergut Clan were not coming along, nine of them ended up volunteering to go with Ferras back to Anvil.

Those ten would return to Murkmire and wait with more of their trusted and willing clansmen until Durvin and Hal swung back to pick them up after the Sanctum was underway. That brought the total number of the Bouldergut Clan that would be accompanying Hal to nearly six dozen.

Each wagon could comfortably sit half a dozen people, ten if they crammed people in and a dozen if a couple of people didn’t mind sleeping on the floor.

With Luda and her half dozen joining Hal’s group, there wasn’t much room to go around in all the wagons but it was manageable.

They were making their way down the hillside an hour or two before dawn. Durvin was right about one thing, the karaks were remarkably strong and sure creatures. Each of the wagons when fully loaded with people and supplies had to weigh an astronomical amount. And each was pulled by a single karak.

The birds took it all in stride. Their complicated harnesses that jingled every so often seemed more at risk to snap under all that tension than the creatures did. In the end, they had no trouble making a slow snaking path down the hill.

Once the caravan got underway, the karaks picked up speed. Sooner than Hal would have liked, the sight of Murkmire began to fade into the distance.

He felt a strange pang of loss. Not only for the koblins and Altres but also for Rondo and the somehow familiar sight of the town. For Qalmor and the Adventurer’s Guild.

And of course, for Giel.

Through Thirty-seven’s dream walking Hal had come to know Murkmire like a second home. Streets he never personally visited he could map out and walk in his mind’s eye.

So as the weathered mountain Sanctuary of Murkmire began to grow hazy and indistinct, Hal opened the rear door of the wagon and sat to watch it disappear. It felt important.

Throughout the initial hours of their journey, everybody was on high alert for something to go wrong. Whether Qalmor let something slip, or the koblins or Rondo, there were simply too many possibilities for things to go wrong.

“I guess you were right, Mira,” Hal said to the elf standing beside him as he watched the rolling hills around Murkmire fade into the distance as well. A few hours and they would put Murkmire far behind them.

“Yeah of course I was.” She nudged his hip with her ankle. “Scoot.” Mira sat down beside him and watched the dark countryside roll along with him. “Right about what though?”

“Rondo,” Hal said, motioning to the clear view of grassland with the occasional copse of trees. “If he betrayed us, I’m pretty sure we’d be followed if not outrightly attacked by now.”

“Of course I didn’t betray you!” came a muffled voice from below the floorboards.

“Pssskosh, cease tongue-flaps tiny one! The Hal-savior will hear!”

“Oh, no.” Hal looked at Mira. The elf’s eyes were far too wide and innocent not to have played a role in this. “No. No, no, no, no.” Hal lifted his voice to call to the driver up front. “Stop the wagon!”

Seeing their wagon slow then stop, the other wagons halted alongside it forming a protective ring. Hal waved them on, assuring them nothing was wrong. But they all waited and watched just to be sure.

Hal pulled up the boards to find a small cushioned nook in the cargo space between two large barrels and a crate right next to Vorax. You too? Hal imparted to the mimic.

To which Vorax replied that it had followed Hal’s instruction.

Nothing was suspicious about Luda and nobody tried to hurt her. Koblins acting… koblin-y was not such an odd thing and the mimic didn’t presume to understand the people-races so it didn’t judge Rondo’s attempt to stowaway.

Successful attempt, Hal reminded himself.

Four koblins had stowed away with the gnome and they looked up from the dark confines at him. If Hal could see their faces, he knew they would have the same sheepish grin the gnome had.

“For flork’s sake.” Hal sighed and pinched his nose.

They could turn back but what would be the point? Like as not, more koblins would find a way to sneak aboard.

“Mira?” Hal asked the gnome.

He shook his head. Hal’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

The gnome raised a shaky finger and pointed directly at the Reaper.

Noth looked anywhere but at Hal.

With one final sigh, Hal said, “All right, get out of there. Is there anybody else stowing away? No? That’s some kind of miracle then.” Hal motioned vaguely at the wagon’s cozy interior. “Might as well make yourselves at home.”

Less than ten minutes later they were on the move again with five more members. Hal couldn’t stay mad though, not with their latest stowaway, Lootlox, clinging to his arm and squealing with joy. If this was the only problem that cropped up along the journey, he’d happily accept the stowaways and count his lucky stars.

The sky began to lighten as Hal took his seat once more at the rear of the wagon’s open door. This time, Ashera came to join him. She smiled at him and together they watched the sun crest the distant eastern horizon.

It was glorious. The shades of purples and blues in the sky were swept away like curtains of fog to reveal gleaming golds, riveting reds, and radiant oranges.

The band high above their heads shifted through each of the colors and took on the appearance of a slowly fading rainbow consisting of only reds, blues, oranges, and purples.

The colors were more vivid than anything he ever experienced on Earth.

“One last sunrise, huh?” Hal said with a smirk at Ashera. He couldn't help but remember thinking way back to when he was imprisoned that it wouldn't be so bad to see one last sunrise.

The Sin Keeper smiled warmly back at him. “I did say they were beautiful, did I not?”

He knew, deep in his soul, that this would be the first of many sunrises to come.

Afterword

Thank you so much for reading Beastborne: Mark of the Founder! This is the first book (of many) in the Beastborne series. As my first novel in the LitRPG genre, I’m very touched that you read all the way through.

I hope that, with your support, I’ll be able to continue writing novels like this for a very long time. If you enjoyed reading Beastborne, please leave a review and rating to let others know what you thought!

As a new indie author, it helps me immensely and is one more step along the road to becoming a full-time author.

Beastborne started its life as a web serial and as a result, the book is ridiculously long. In my eyes that just means more value for you, the reader!

I’ve adapted a lot of my most beloved inspirations to shape Beastborne into what it is. There’s a bit of Final Fantasy’s Blue Mage mixed in with Bloodborne, Dungeons & Dragons, Lovecraftian horror, and a host of other little things that I hope makes it as enjoyable to read as it was to design and write!

Hal’s adventures don’t stop here though! I’ve already written nearly another 100 chapters over on my Patreon for the second book of Beastborne.

Not only that, but 5 new chapters are posted to Patreon every week. I have no plans on stopping there, and with your help, I would like to write stories like these for many, many years to come.

About the Author

My name is James T. Callum and I’m not going to talk to you in the third person or make it seem like I’ve got some publisher or editor who has a bio on me.

This is just me, talking to you, the reader. I’m no different than you, I love reading and gaming just the same as everybody else.

In fact, I’ve loved reading for as long as I could remember. From the very first fantasy book I read, Wizard of Earthsea, I was hooked.

For just as long I’ve also been an avid gamer and DND player (as well as other tabletop RPGs). Chrono Trigger, Final Fantasy, Illusion of Gaia, and on through the years as stories and graphics became better and better.

You’ll be able to find hints of inspiration from all sorts of RPGs and video games in my works. From the Final Fantasy series to Warcraft, Age of Empires to Anno, and games like Dark Souls and Bloodborne. Because who doesn’t love a little cosmic horror thrown in for fun?

These games (and countless others) have inspired me ever since I was a kid, and they continue to serve as my muse now that I’m much older.

Writing has always been my greatest aspiration and with your help, I hope to make it a full-time job. At the time of this writing, I still work a day job like most people. It is only thanks to Patreon that I was able to dedicate some of my spare time to writing.

So, if you’d like to provide direct support and help me achieve my goal of writing full-time (so I can write even more stories for you awesome people!) you can hop on over to my Patreon page where you’ll find tons of content.

Patrons get access to advanced chapters of upcoming books, special discord roles and discussion channels, early releases of books before anyone else, maps, cover reveals, voting, and a lot more.

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You can always find the latest information on my website about new books coming up, sales, and more: https://www.jamestcallum.com

And if you spot a typo or error, shoot me an email at: typos@jamestcallum.com, and I will get it fixed and re-uploaded ASAP. I aim to provide the best possible reading experience and as soon as I find an error I fix it. Once it’s fixed and updated, your reading device should update automatically with the improved version.

I'm always available to talk, connect with readers, fellow authors, and lovable book nerds:

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Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I have to thank (once again) my wife. She has sat through my complaining, my brainstorming, my ups and downs, and everything in between with unfailing grace. Without her, I never would have started writing let alone began any of the stories I now have.

Secondly, my Patrons. You guys rock. I love each and every one of you nerds! None of this would be possible without the help and support of the best Patrons around, first and foremost, Sevitar, and Mattirro.

Additional special thanks to: Alex Rhone, Antonios Theodorakakis, Austin Gibbs, Chioke Nelson, Clayton Jones, Colin Ford, Da Uncle, Daniel, David Peers, Deamonicbob, Dominic Pernicone, Jessy Pierre-Louis, Joachim Janssen, Jørn Håvard Eikenes, Josh Torrey, Junior, Justin J. Sewell, Leaored, Matthew Davis, Matthew Parikka, ModernHART, Patrick C., Rintaun, Samuel Kelly, Steven McNeeley, Vladimir Sanches, and Wesley Fan.

And of course, a loving THANK YOU to you, the reader. I would not be able to do this without you, and it is my most heartfelt wish to keep bringing you stories for many years to come!

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Hal’s Final Stats

Hal Williams

Level: 24

Discordant Stone: 20,181/55,000

Strain: 0/50

BP: 10/10

Classes

Beastborne: 13

Novice: 10

Oathforger: 1

Resources

HP: 345/345

SP: 305/305

MP: 420/420

Attributes

STR: 10 (+4)

VIT: 20

DEX: 10 (+2)

AGI: 10 (+2)

INT: 27 (+7)

MND: 30 (+5)

CHR: 20 (+12)

Regeneration

HP/hr: 51.1

SP/hr: 49.3

MP/hr: 102.7

Resistances

Fire: 25

Ice: 0

Wind: 0

Earth: 0

Lightning: 0

Water: -25

Light: 0

Dark: 0

Defensive Properties

DEF: 51

MDEF: 42

Insulation: 35

Monster Affinity

Beastmen

Goblin: 300%

Arcana

Shadow: 325%

Doll: 105%

Mimic: 95%

Undead

Aberration: 265%

Plantoid

Treant: 285%

Planttrap: 15%

Outsider

Eldritch: 300%

Class Affinity

Warrior: 95%

Thief: 90%

Survival Skills

Stealth: 6

Darkvision: 3

Survival: 1

Perception: 15

Investigation: 10

Manatree: 1

Combat Skills

Improvised Weaponry: 12

Sword: 9

Parry: 4

Evasion: 11

Magic Skills

Enfeebling: 12

Beast Magic: 13

Crafting Skills

Alchemy: 0

Foraging: 0

Social Skills

Leadership: 18 (+5)

Persuasion: 12

Exploration: 2

Deception: 5

Mercantile: 1

Intimidation: 2

Dramatis Personae

Abegielamanonalos "Giel" Blackspire

Tavernkeeper of the “Gone Goose” and the son of a renowned rebel. He joins Hal’s group because of Hal’s striking resemblance to Thirty-seven and because his mother entrusted him with the Balesian Codex to give to a Thirty-seven’s protégé.

Alnafein

The silent protector of the Fallwreath Founder. Little else is known aside from his taciturn nature compared to his sister. Member of the rarely seen Drow race.

Altres

Tiefling bard that Hal initial rescues from a slow death of starvation while being utterly ignored in a dark hole. Seeing his fate reversed by Hal has given Altres a new lease on life. Rather than turn it around and go straight, he has chosen to double-down on being an agent of subterfuge and subversion except now he works to lift Hal up while he tears down Rinbast.

Angram Masaeil

An elven Ranger of no small skill, Angram describes himself as the “black sheep” of the Masaeil family. Despite this, he has proven time and time again to be a stalwart ally and friend to both Hal and his fellow Rangers.

Anvidol

One of the elven Rangers, only seen in passing.

Ashera

Quiet and reserved, Ashera was “enslaved” until being freed by Hal. Her motivations seem clearly driven to assist Hal in his endeavors, to be a confidant and friend, and to repay the debt for freeing her from her old life.

Buffrix Eargone

A koblin healer (Kobbiemage) and de facto leader of the koblin clan that Hal and Elora rescue. Buffrix, as his surname suggests, is missing an ear. He is, however, unfailingly loyal to Hal and will do everything in his power to help the man who he sees as a savior of his people.

Durvin Bouldergut

Dwarven patron of Clan Bouldergut. Durvin is loud, brash, and outspoken. Three qualities dwarves love best. He has no fondness of skulking about in the shadows or underhanded deals, both of which he was forced to do in order to survive thanks to the Loyalist’s influence in Murkmire. Despite his boisterous attitude, he has become quite fond of Hal and his band of misfits. Going so far as to throw his clan’s lot in with them.

Eindor

Another Ranger, soft-spoken and kind but rarely seen.

Elora Othoril

Half-elven Ranger who first finds and rescues Hal. Owing to her capability and skill Hal survived when he should have died. It is thanks to her that Hal makes it to Murkmire at all and though she is loathe to show it, she is immensely proud of Hal’s progress and will stand by him through thick and thin.

Ferras Bouldergut

Clan Bouldergut’s treasurer, an older dwarf that has seen the Clan through many hardships.

Gibberox Heftyhand

Skilled crafter of the much larger koblin clan now residing in Murkmire’s Coffin District.

Gretilda

Elora’s human mother, minor alchemist and herbalist. She and Elora have never seen eye-to-eye and since the death of Elora’s beloved father, their animosity has only grown until Gretilda violates Elora’s trust.

Hal Williams

Mid-twenties man from Earth that has the misfortune of being pulled through a portal to another world at the behest of a tyrannical Founder. Though he originally carries much of the baggage of his past with him, over time and with the help of his new allies, he overcomes his limitations to strive for something greater.

His hope for creating a Sanctum is a lofty one but with his newfound powers and increasing allies he is more capable of achieving his goals than he realizes.

(Hal Entry #2) Besal “The Beast”

As a result of becoming a Beastborne, the Beast was formed. Hal considers him the darkness of his soul, though whether that is true or not is debatable. Clearly, Besal sees himself as something apart from Hal, yet there is no mistaking their shared lineage. After his defeat by Hal, they have struck an uneasy balance. Though it is clear Besal still yearns to be free.

Hirash

Archmage of Fallmark, the hawkish man is exceptionally skilled in the magical arts. His loyalty to Rinbast is second only to his own arrogance in his magical prowess.

Jabkix Pigeonpecs

Fisticuffs koblin that enjoys - and is surprisingly skilled in - brawling. One of Hal’s original supporters.

Leis

Leader of the Windstrom refugees. Pledges her aid to Hal in whatever way they can. In recognition of their plight, Hal offers the Windstrom refugees a home within the Coffin District.

Lootlox Bangpots

Lootmage koblin of staggeringly small stature. She has a fondness for Hal that borders on fangirlish. Her Cling skill is nearly 20, despite her single-digit Level.

Luda

An Oracle with unknown powers. She seeks out Hal in order to request asylum. The weight of her position sits uncomfortably on her small shoulders. She has a preternatural ability to sneak up on Hal and startle him, among many others.

Lurklox Dhalmelneck

Thief koblin with a penchant for “lock-tricking.”

Matron Madrasil

Matron of the Adventurer’s Guild. She seems to have a connection to Thirty-seven, and Giel’s parents. Bears a striking resemblance to her supposed daughter, Ashera.

Mattias

One of the young boys Hal and Elora rescued from the goblin cave. Missing child of the Windstrom refugees.

Midarian

Unknown man(?) that wields considerable power and magic. Newly minted God-slayer and somewhat of a supporter of Hal. Known as a World Traveler and also for meddling in affairs of world-ending proportions. Not much is known about him other than many people in power fear his interference. And he enjoys having tea-time with a magical otter.

Millie Blackspire

Giel’s mother. Not much is known about her other than her rebellious activities and support of Thirty-seven against the Founder.

Mira Lavilieur

A willowy gold elf that has an unquenchable zest for life and a keen love of pushing people’s buttons. Like Hal, she doesn’t natively come from Aldim and it is one of her chief joys to constantly drop Earth-specific phrases and memes in order to goad him. Originally pursuing her own agenda, she was eventually won over to Hal’s side and has since become a staunch ally and supporter of Hal’s vision for a new Sanctum.

Myla

Another elven Ranger rarely seen.

Nothricient

Once a Reaper, now turned mortal, Noth once seemed to desire nothing but an end to her mortal existence and a return to her previous station. However, something changed and she has become quite enamored with mortal emotions, food, and the people around her. Despite no longer being tethered to Hal, she tends to stay even closer to him for other reasons.

Prowlox Bandylegs

Considered a skilled crafter, Prowlox is one of the few koblins Hal left in charge of the koblins in Murkmire.

Qalmor

Captain of the Murkmire Watch. Somewhat strict, but honorable considering his profession and how easily a person can be swayed by moneyed interests. He comes to have a grudging respect for Hal, going so far as to “forget” their meeting despite orders to detain a man of his bearing.

Quibbles

Pink slime pet of Vorax. He missed Vorax so much he traveled through miles of rock and squeezed through the tiniest crevices all in search of his master.

Ralst

A drow assassin with the uncanny ability to move through shadows. As the sister of Alnafein, she is quite the polar opposite of her brother and abhors boredom or quiet. She has earned the name “Creeping Death” for herself.

Rinbast

The Founder of Fallmark and Hal’s primary adversary. It was through his request that Hal was pulled from his world to Aldim.

Rondo

Gnomish shopkeep and retired adventurer. Despite being knocked out and kidnapped, he stows away with Hal and his caravan along with some koblins.

Slyrix Quickfingers

Koblin weaver. Really good at making shadow puppets.

Sparkspox Sweatbrow

One of the leaders left in charge of the Koblins in Hal’s absence. She has taken over as the main orchestrater.

Stumpy

A deformed Wortling that had its vestigial head pushed into its chest. Hal had an odd fondness for the thing despite the fact that it was an unthinking and unaware creature.

Thirty-Seven

A version of Hal from another timeline that Rinbast pulled over to Aldim long ago. He once held faith in Rinbast until something changed. Has unknown ties to Matron Madrasil, whom Hal assumes is Ashera’s mother, and Giel’s parents.

Tilda

Waifish girl that Hal rescued from the goblin cave. She is one of the few people who have seen Hal’s Founder mark.

Tormand Blackspire

Giel’s father, died during the defense of Murkmire when the Sanctuary was cut off from the outside world due to ravaging Manastorms.

Vorax

Omnigorger mimic that is saved by Hal and quickly bonds with him. Though he is smarter than Hal realizes, he has a deep love for the man even though he isn’t a monster. Vorax’s appetite is unyielding but he thankfully prefers treasure. The more expensive and rare, the better. Having recently reacquired his pet, Quibbles, Vorax is happier than he’s ever been.

Yesel

Elven Ranger who helps Hal see Aldim as a potential home.

Bestiary

Belladonna

Plantoid creature with poisonous vine-like whip appendages.

Broken

The men and women who live outside the law and protection of the Founders. They hold to no faith, no known laws, and are often belligerent to outsiders.

Doll

Magical creations that are a facsimile of Golems though dramatically weaker. Cannot be made of heavy material such as metal or stone, often constructed of clay, wood, or hollowed-out material.

Entin

Knotty, gnarled tree-like creatures that stand roughly 6 to 7 feet tall with long claw-like branch appendages. As ambush predators, they prefer to cluster up and hide until they find prey.

Gibberer

A many-mouthed creature that is capable of driving many people mad with its multitudinous mouths and cackling.

Goblin

Not to be confused with a koblin, goblins are diminutive creatures that are often unpredictable but will choose trade over warfare most of the time. One of the few beastmen races that has regular dealings with non-monsters. Maskless goblins have no tribe and are considered excommunicated from goblin society as a whole. Viewing a goblin without its mask is a grave taboo.

Gnoll

Hyena-men, gnolls are typically dumb and overtly aggressive. They live in small packs and are often too disorganized to form larger more effective clans like other beastmen.

Golem

Magical constructs whose method of creation has long-since been forgotten or hidden. Often the result of creation magicks gone awry, Golems follow a set of recognized patterns given to them by their creator or during creation.

Karak

A bird-like race of creatures that possess cunning and intellect similar to most of the higher races. They are capable of carrying immense burdens and are able to travel at high speeds.

Koblin

Not to be confused with goblins, koblins share many of the same traits as their ill-tempered brethren. A key difference - lost on most people - is that koblins are covered in a fine velvety layer of green fur unlike the leathery green skin of a goblin. Like goblins, their masks are important to them and they never leave the comfort of their homes without them. Unlike goblins, they do regularly take their masks off but only among those they trust.

Manatree

While far removed from the usual creatures on Aldim, a Manatree is a powerful entity that is more aware than an unthinking plant. Capable of immense power, Manatrees are beholden to their Founders - the only known people who can plant them and tether their lifeforce to one, becoming functionally immortal - though their main function is to shield large areas against the effects of a Manastorm. Contrary to popular belief, they do not strictly kill all monsters that touch their generated barrier.

Mature Shoggoth

A creature beyond scope and compare. A single Mature Shoggoth is a nightmare made manifest. Its corrupting influence portends an ill-fate for the star it is seen upon. Shoggoths are not naturally occurring.

Mimic

A creature of arcana, Mimics are sentient and sapient creations of wild magicks long-forgotten. There exist three variants of mimic-kind: treasuregorger, fleshgorger, and omnigorger.

Treasuregorgers eat solely material goods, gaining EXP from eating them based on their value and rarity.

Fleshgorgers are a brutish and thankfully rare species that has been on the decline thanks to their warlike ways and low intelligence. Few fleshgorgers survive to adulthood as they eat everything (or try to) that crosses their path.

Omnigorgers are a rare breed owing to its unlikely parentage. Rare is the fleshgorger that is smart enough to entice a treasuregorger. Their rarity allows them to masquerade as either treasuregorger or fleshgorger and to subsist off either diet.

Scourge

Tainted creatures that exist in the Broken Lands. They often have chimeric characteristics due to the corrupting and mutagenic nature of Manastorms.

Shadow Crawler

Shadow creatures that hail from Shadesholm. Bound by Thirty-seven’s work, they wander about in search of a way home and are extremely aggressive. Destroying such a creature gives it the respite it so dearly craves and sends it back to its home plane.

Shadow Predator

The larger brother of the Shadow Crawler, the Shadow Predator is stronger, smarter, and tougher. And just like it’s little brother, it is bound to this plane and forced to protect the Coffin District long after it needed it.

Shadow Sage

The progenitors of the shadow creatures that plague the Coffin District, they exist on an entirely different level. Imprisoned by Rinbast, only four Shadow Sages are currently known. Their knowledge and power are unknown but they hold great love for their own kind.

Shoggoth Spore

A budding spore from a mature shoggoth. In time, it will grow to maturity and begin the cycle of budding and regeneration (provided there is enough food) over again until there is nothing left.

Shoggoth Sporeling

Premature budding of a shoggoth spore. Though weak, they are numerous and capable of overwhelming even prepared parties of adventurers.

Slime

Simple monsters that are more akin to domesticated animals than actual monsters. Often found as pets of other, more evolved monsters.

Rootnids

Plantoid creatures shaped like spiders out of roots, they have paralyzing toxins in their bites and swarm potential prey.

Treant

Towering tree-like creatures that can awaken other trees to a treant-like state for a temporary period of time. Full-grown treants are physically hardy but weak to fire and magic.

Treant Sapling

Young treants are significantly weaker but make up for with significantly faster movement and a whip-like sapling atop their head that they use to great effect.

Vorclars

Little is known about these strange monsters except that they lurk in cavern systems and are capable of phasing through solid matter.

Shae'kathoth

An Elder being of immense power that once toppled entire civilizations with its insidious ability to consume a host from the inside out, walking about as that person then leaping to the next host with a single touch. Due to Thirty-seven’s imprisonment over the long years, Shae’kathoth weakened considerably.

Waterwheel

Ambush predator that lies in wait in bodies of water and rivers, using roots to pierce and drag prey underwater.

Wortling

The creations of a Worttree, their sole purpose is to capture prey and return it to the Worttree to feed it. They have no sentience and are controlled by the Worttree like puppets.

Worttree

Known but never seen, Worttrees are the creators of Wortlings. When a Wortling uses its “root” ability, it will slowly grow into a Worttree if left alone for a full month.

Skill List

[Survival Skills]

Darkvision

Level 3

+6% Visual range in dim light.

+3% Visual range in no light.

Through time spent in the dark, lightless depths, you have adapted your sight to be able to peel back the veil of darkness.

Investigation

Level 10

+10% Investigation speed.

+20% Investigation success.

+10% Point of interest highlight chance.

By analyzing your surroundings and using inductive reasoning, you are able to piece together evidence into a plausible conclusion, locate hidden items, traps, and make connections others would miss. Heavily influenced by INT.

Investigation Perks

Treasure Hunter 1/3

While investigating, increases the chance of discovering higher rarity loot and acquiring quest originating items.

Lv1: 15%

Manatree

Level 1

+3% Manatree Spell Potency.

The manipulation and ability to commune with a Manatree is a valuable skill that few have the capability to learn. By sharing a piece of yourself with the semi-sentient creation, you are able to influence its use of power. And in turn, the Manatree is able to provide you with the means to defend yourself against the dreaded Manastorms.

Perception

Level 15

+30% Perception highlight chance.

+75% Awareness of magical items.

+30% Danger sense.

As a measure of your general awareness, Perception allows you to pick out details of your environment that most others might miss. Higher Levels of Perception will highlight useful items or those of special significance.

Perception Traits

Inspection

By focusing on a monster, you are usually able to view its Level.

Perception Perks

Premonition

Gain the ability to see outlines and indicators where powerful attacks are about to land moments before they hit.

Stealth

Level 6

+6% Stealth success.

+6% Stealth speed.

-6% SP drain.

Slow, measured movements and a preference for shadowy nooks have helped you take the first steps along the path of a true sneak. By moving with purpose and focusing on staying out of sight you can dramatically reduce the ability for others to detect your presence. Sneaking reduces your speed and drains Stamina.

Survival

Level 1

+205% Camping regeneration.

+5% Flora & Fauna identification.

+1% Well Rested bonus.

Survival abilities allow you to not only live off the land but to thrive. Survival determines your ability to hunt for game, distinguish poisonous food from edible, and to make camp effectively.

[Combat Skills]

Evasion

Level 11

+11% Evasion speed.

-11% Stamina cost.

+4% Time decay.

The best defense is the one where you never get hit in the first place. The art of Evasion takes precise timing and quick reflexes to keep ahead of an opponent’s constant barrage of attacks.

Evasion Perks

Patient Offense

Each successive evasion of an enemy’s attack increases the damage of your next attack by 10%. Resets if hit.

Improvised Weaponry

Level 12

+24% Improvised Weapon damage.

+24% Improvised Weapon attack speed.

-10% Stamina cost.

Realizing that anything can be a weapon if you put your mind to it, you’ve taken the first step toward the ultimate goal of beating your enemy with the body of another enemy. Unlocks the Improvised Crafting trait.

Improvised Weaponry Perks

Overrun

Increase attack speed by 15% when utilizing an Improvised Weapon and a One-Handed Weapon together.

Improvised Weaponry Traits

Improvised Crafting

Improvised Crafting allows you to outfit any item with atypical ingredients, gaining the ability to swap out one ingredient for a similar type, resulting in a different finished product.

Parry

Level 4

+4% Parry success.

-4% Stamina cost.

Avoiding harm during a fight while remaining effective is a difficult balance to strike. Some wear heavy armor and strap on large shields to create a bulwark against which many foes struggle to penetrate. Others prefer to use their weapons to their full benefit by parrying and defending against deadly strikes.

Sword

Level 9

+9% Sword damage.

-2.25% Sword durability loss.

+5% Sword armor penetration.

The weapon of choice for would-be heroes and highway bandits alike. Under Angram’s watchful gaze you have taken the first steps to ensure that you consistently stick your enemies with the pointy end first.

Sword Weaponskills

Rending Steel

Assault your enemies with five unrelenting strikes. Weave destruction upon your enemies, finding gaps in their armor and where no gaps exist, creating them.

Additional Effect: Lowers DEF.

Damage: 10

SP Cost: 25

[Magic Skills]

Beast Magic

Level 13

+39% Beast Magic potency.

-2% MP Cost.

A unique form of magic known only to those following in the footsteps of Chimera Knights and the fabled Beastborne. Beast Magic allows the wielder to tap into the ferocious power of fell monstrous magics previously exclusive to monsters.

Wielding Beast Magic comes with a price, however, non-monster bodies were not meant to wield such devastating magic and will experience hazardous side-effects if the wielder is not careful to manage their Strain levels.

Beast Magic Perks

Azure Lore

Reach into the very depths of Beast Magic, forming a sympathetic bond with your adversary. By touching a monster, you are able to understand your quarry that much better. Its weaknesses and fears, its strengths, and most importantly what it’ll do before it does it. Defeating multiple enemies from the same Monster Family confers unique bonuses against that family.

Empty Vessel

Each Beastborne is unique. Those that follow the Azure path accept the risk of Strain but are not without the tools to handle the dangerous influx of corrupting magic. Once per day, you focus on the way your body was before becoming a Beastborne. Holding that image, you purge all Strain from yourself, becoming an empty vessel once more.

Enfeebling

Level 12

+12% Enfeebling success.

+24% Enfeebling duration.

+10% Enfeebling magic resistance.

When defeating your enemies isn’t enough, Enfeebling Magic is there to cut the strongest enemies down to size and to make the weak grovel in fear. Enfeebling focuses on crippling opponents in as many ways as there are seconds in a day.

Enfeebling Perks

Shatter 1/3

Enfeebling spells apply a 10% MDEF reduction.

Lv1: 10% MDEF reduction.

[Crafting Skills]

Alchemy

Level 0

Alchemy creates mighty medicines, potent poisons, and substances of supreme strength to imbibe or imbue renowned relics.

Foraging

Level 0

The bounty of the land is ripe for the picking as a Forager. Whether it’s gathering wild resources found throughout the world or chopping down towering trees to extract valuable heartwood, Foraging allows you to gather the natural materials of the world.

[Social Skills]

Deception

Level 5

+5% Deception success.

+2.5% Deception awareness.

-2.5% Reputation loss.

+1.5% Deception success for each person you have told the same lie to.

The favorite skill of dark elves and conniving merchants alike, Deception affords you the ability to weave your own truth. The dark elves have a saying, “when all around you is a web of lies, the truth is what you choose to make.” Those skilled in Deception are able to make their own realities and furthermore, convince others of their veracity.

Exploration

Level 2

+20% Faster drawing speed.

+6% Discoverable range.

The Exploration skill allows you to discern differences in the environment and keep track of your position on your Explorer’s Map. The higher your Exploration skill, the more detailed and accurate your map will become.

At low Levels the map will be vague and inaccurate, often with little more than the area’s name. As your skill progresses, the detail becomes greater and your position relative to your surroundings becomes clear.

Intimidation

Level 2

+2% Intimidation success.

+2.50% Pacification chance.

While others would convince, you take a more direct approach. Threats are only threats if you don’t make good on them. And by putting the fear of the Gods into an otherwise stalwart soul, you have embarked upon the ignoble art of getting your way by more direct means.

Leadership

Level 18 (+5)

+23% Party damage.

+46% Leadership efficacy.

Some are born to follow, others to lead. Whether intentionally or not, you have shown ambition and a willingness to direct people and walk alongside them toward a shared goal.

Leadership Perks

Party Tactics

When fighting with a party, each member of your party gains an additional 2% bonus to damage, defense, and healing per member within your party communication range.

Persuasion

Level 12

+12% Persuasion success.

+6.0% Antagonistic persuasion success.

+10% Reputation gain.

-4% Reputation loss.

All civilizations are founded on the principles of compromise. You have taken the first steps along the road of making sure that others compromise more than you.

Persuasion Perks

Friendly 1/3

Through long hours of persuading people to see your side of things you have picked up how to appear friendly to many races and cultures even if you don't speak the language.

Lv1: +20% Persuasion success against non-aggressive entities.

Mercantile

Level 1

+1% Sale price over buyer’s skill.

-0.5% Purchase price over seller’s skill.

Trade is the lifeblood of all civilized nations. More important than land, deadlier than any war, trading can make or break a nation.

[Languages]

Common

Deep Speech

Spells & Abilities

Beastborne

Even among the lost order of Chimera Knights, there was a whisper and a rumor of something greater. A form of Beast Magic given physical form on the most fundamental levels. Many Chimera Knights died pursuing their desires to attain the title of Beastborne. Wielders of the most powerful Beast Magic, the Beastborne walk the razor’s edge between their humanity and becoming another terror that stalks the stars.

Arcana Killer

Gives you an edge when fighting Arcana Family monsters, increasing damage dealt while decreasing damage taken. Adds a chance to Intimidate Arcana.

Beast Killer

Gives you an edge when fighting Beast Family monsters, increasing damage dealt while decreasing damage taken. Adds a chance to Intimidate Beasts.

Clear Mind

Sacrifice a third of your HP, SP, and MP to reduce Strain to 0.

Limit once per day.

Deep Magic

Alters the Elemental and Monster properties of unassociated held weapons to include currently attuned Essence.

Lv1: Adds Elemental & Monster Properties to weaponry.

Edge of Disaster

Every point of Strain acts as a point of Haste, increasing your movement and attack speed.

Regenerative Prowess

+25% HP, SP, and MP Regeneration.

Splice

The core of what it means to be a Beastborne is their capacity to take the essences they’ve acquired and mix them into an entirely new form, never before seen. Monster Attunements are only active while Splicing the given Monster Family.

Essences: 2

Beast Magic

Blinding Spit

Eject a gob of chemically unstable ooze that explodes into a blinding flash upon impact.

Additional Effects: Blind, Enmity Up

School: Beast Magic

Type: Magical (Dark)

Family: Aberration (Undead)

MP: 50

BP: 2

Strain: 2

Damage: 8

Bomb Toss II

Throw a goblin-bomb at the enemy dealing Area of Effect (AOE) fire damage.

School: Beast Magic.

Type: Magical (Fire).

Family: Goblin (Beastmen).

MP: 40

BP: 2

Strain: 1

Damage: 16 (AOE).

Drill Branch

Summon spiraling branches to pierce through the toughest hide and gore your opponents. By continuing to channel mana into the spell, you can continue the spell indefinitely. Partially ignores DEF.

School: Beast Magic.

Type: Physical (Piercing).

Family: Treant (Plantoid).

MP: 35

BP: 3

Strain: 2

Damage: 10

Empty Vessel

Each Beastborne is unique. Those that follow the Azure path accept the risk of Strain but are not without the tools to handle the dangerous influx of corrupting magic. Once per day, you focus on the way your body was before becoming a Beastborne. Holding that image, you purge all Strain from yourself, becoming an empty vessel once more.

Goblin Rush

Lunge forward, launching a frantic series of critical attacks.

School: Beast Magic

Type: Physical (Slashing)

Family: Goblin (Beastmen)

MP: 35

BP: 3

Strain: 2

Damage: 25

Shifting Mask

Take on the appearance of another, altering every aspect of your body, including clothes and items.

School: Beast Magic.

Type: Magical (Dark).

Family: Eldritch (Soul of Shae’kathoth).

MP: 200

BP: 5

Strain: 10

Duration: 1 hour.

Soul Absorption

Certain unique creatures possess inordinately robust abilities and boast knowledge far beyond their kin. These entities, once defeated, can have their specific essence absorbed, providing unique boons and abilities found only within that creature. Due to the nature of these souls, only one can be set at any given time. And a full day must pass before another soul can be set in its place.

Soul Drain

By touching an opponent, you are capable of draining their resources and stats. The more types you drain the less potent the spell becomes and there is a higher chance for resists. Drained stats and resources are removed from the afflicted and temporarily added to you.

School: Beast Magic.

Type: Magical (Dark).

Family: Eldritch (Soul of Shae’kathoth).

MP: 120

BP: 5

Strain: 7

Duration: 1 hour.

Spellshaping

The chief trait of Azure Fate is the empowerment by greater control and efficiency. With this trait, any spell from any discipline is capable of being controlled and shaped in a different manner than its original invocation describes. A Firestorm spell that incinerates a 10ft radius is sloppy magic that can hurt friend and foe alike. Spellshaping allows that same spell to be molded, avoiding friends while annihilating foes.

Enfeebling

Bloodrake II

Binds target(s) with bladed, spiked spectral chains, rooting them to the spot and inflicting heavy Bleed damage. Damage inflicted upon them does not break the spell. Must be touching the same surface as the creature stands upon.

School: Enfeebling

MP: 45

Damage: 3

Bleed Damage: 6

Range: 12.5ft Radius

Enchainment III

Binds target(s) with spectral chains, rooting them to the spot. Any damage inflicted upon them once bound breaks the chains. Must be touching the same surface as the creature stands upon.

School: Enfeebling

MP: 18

Range: 12.5ft Radius

Founder Sigils

Dominate II

By infusing your will onto the very weave of reality, you can now dominate creatures, taking their semi-sentience for your own.

Cost: Unknown (Variable?).

Limit: 25

Rend

By focusing on the weave that makes all things, you can now channel the Sigil of Unmaking and rip the weave at its most basic level.

Cost: 250 EXP

Innate

Assimilation II

By redirecting the flow of vital energies, you are able to convert one resource (HP, MP, SP) for another at a reduced rate.

Resource Output Conversion

HP: 55%

SP: 75%

MP: 80%

Empathy

Allows Hal to share buffs with anybody he possesses Sympathy with.

Mana Investiture II

By focusing your Mana on a given object, you are capable of investing your Mana into the object to store, dominate, destroy, or alter its composition.

MP Cost: Variable.

Casting Time: Instant.

Recast: Instant.

Stalwart Soul

For the purposes of overcoming resistance to negative status effects, all attributes are considered double their actual value.

Item-Based

Blessing of the Flame

+25% Fire Resistance.

-25% Water Resistance.

Partial Immunity to Fire.

Resistance to Corruption.

Explorer's Map

Auto-updating Legendary Quality map.

Manatree

Manashield

A remnant of the Manatree’s own power to repel the worst of the Manastorms, this ability affords you a portion of a Manatree’s protections against an oncoming Manastorm. It is not powerful enough to repel monsters but it will weaken them.

Casting Time: 10 minutes.

Duration: 8 hours.

Radius: 20ft.

Applies Area Effect: Manatree’s Wrath.

All creatures within the effective radius of the Manashield move 10% slower and have their DEF and MDEF reduced by 10%.

Monster Attunements

Aberration

Sturdy Hide

Unnatural life has given Aberrations the ability to take a hit and keep moving. Adapting their unique Essence to your own will increase your HP by 15%.

Eldritch

Elder Prowess

Eldritch creatures are deeply attuned to the ebb and flow of mana, making them unparalleled practitioners of the darkest magicks. All magic is 10% more potent.

Lv1: +10% Magic Potency

Lv2: +20% Magic Potency

Goblin

Friends

Goblin-kin are among the friendliest of all monster races. While the may not take particularly well to humanoids, they are among the most sociable monsters. Attuning to Goblins on a deeper level will allow you to adopt that same level of affability that other monsters cannot resist. Goblinspeak optional.

Kludge

Goblins are well known for their ability to make seemingly impossible things work. By attuning more deeply to their essence, you become able to bend the laws of reality slightly to make even the most ridiculous creation somehow work.

Lv.1: Crafted goods can be made with up to 25% non-standard parts and will function just as well as a properly made piece.

Shadow

Shadowy Presence

Become partially immaterial, making it difficult for physical attacks to land upon you. Chance increases in lower light.

Lv.1: -7% Chance attacks land. Effect increases up to double in complete darkness.

Shadesight

Replaces and augments Darkvision, illuminating shadows in shining starlight and utter blackness in dim light.

Treant

Barkskin

Cover your skin in a thick layer of regenerative bark.

Lv1: +5% Temporary HP (tHP), regenerates 1% per minute.

Oathforger

No man is an island. This, the most basic tenet of an Oathforger, you have learned and taken to heart. In the ages before the Founders brought sanctioned order to the world, this responsibility fell to the ancient Oathforgers. Their Oaths held insurmountable power to break and reforge the bonds of the natural order for the better of all. With an Oath, they could inspire the cowardly to action, give succor to the wounded, and even loosen the iron-cold grip of Death itself.

Regal Bearing

+35% Base Charisma.

+25% Base Persuasion, Intimidation, and Deception Success.

Oath

The beating heart of the Oathforgers, an Oath is a solemn vow that exists between the Oathforger and a given entity. Be it the natural order of the elements themselves, a powerful king, or a lowly beggar. Many Oaths will be presented to you by fulfilling specific conditions. Others can be created willingly between yourself and other parties. Oaths are sacred above all else and though they provide access to great power, like all things in life they are fragile.

Breaking an Oath once temporarily restricts that Oath from being enacted, limiting any spells, perks, and powers associated with the Oath. Breaking the same Oath a second time permanently destroys it. If three Oaths are broken over the lifetime of an Oathforger, they have proven themselves incapable of bearing the burden of its powers and they are an Oathforger no more.

Oath of the Brightking

You give hope to those around you, and they, in turn, bolster your resolve to carry on. Those bound to you by this Oath perceive you as the leader you could be, the ruler that all goodly people yearn for. The kindly king those of dark intent fear.

Oath of the Brightking Boons

[Self]

+5 Leadership.

+5 CHR.

[Allies]

HP +5% | SP +5% | MP +5%

Oath of the Brightking Axioms

Never intentionally harm an ally.

Protect an incapacitated ally above all else.

Warding

Shield an ally with layered protective runes. Each layer provides a stacking 10 Resistance to a given entity, resulting in a total of 50 Resistance against the first hit from that entity.

Each layer of protective runes vanishes from a single attack of the specified entity. Attacks from other creatures do not affect the spell. Additional casts refresh the effect.

School: Oath

MP: 50

Range: 100ft

Stealth

Sneak Attack II

While sneaking, attacking an unaware enemy will incur bonus damage influenced by your DEX and Stealth skill.

Sneak Attack damage: 312.5%

Titles

Coffin Closer

Awarded for successful completion of the Coffin Contract.

Less likely to be attacked by undead your Level or lower.

Dramatically increases the aggressiveness of undead more than 10 Levels above you.