Noob Game Plus

Ryan Rimmel

Copyright © 2021 Ryan Rimmel

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456

Cover design by: Alexandre Rito
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America

Dedicated to my tolerant wife, Sarah
I thought she was loving, but quarentine taught me differently

Thanks to the many objects in my office that I've started talking to due to the absence of human interaction.

Thanks to Alexandre Rito @ Podium for the great cover!

Thanks to the rest of the Podium crew, Victoria, Emily, and Johnathan... sorry about Chapter 29.  

Also, thanks to all of you who continue to read this.

Thanks to my loving wife, Sarah, who did not find the first sentence AT ALL amusing.  

Finally, thanks to Jessica M, Jonathan R and Shaun K.  You know what you did.  

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue - The Sanctum of the Sphinx

Chapter 1 - From Hero to Zero

Chapter 2 – The cold dark cell

Chapter 3 – The Great Escape

Chapter 4 – Peachy Princess

Chapter 5 – Into the Unknown

Chapter 6 – Hiding in the woods

Chapter 7 – Waiting in the woods

Chapter 8 – The Great Escape

Chapter 9 - An Impossible Pursuit

Chapter 10 - The Hills have eyes

Chapter 11 - The Perfect Plan

Chapter 12 – Drop Bears, they are real and terrifying

Chapter 13 – Riverfolk

Chapter 14 – Small Town Living

Chapter 15 – Unexpected Guests

Chapter 16 – On the Road Again

Chapter 17 – The Caravan

Chapter 18 – On the Road, For the First Time

Chapter 19 – Interesting day on the road

Chapter 20 – Once Again into the Breach

Chapter 21 – Room to Grow on the Open Road

Chapter 22 - Meeting of the Dark

Chapter 23 - Story Time

Chapter 24 - Recruitment

Chapter 25 - Union

Chapter 26 - Temples

Chapter 27 - How Exotic

Chapter 28 – Spiritual Disagreement in the Public Square

Chapter 29 – Samson and Jim

Chapter 30 – Aftermath

Chapter 31 – Buried Alive

Chapter 32 – The most terrifying of monsters

Chapter 33 – Rock Bottom

Chapter 34 – New Outlook on Life

Chapter 35 – Chamber of Secrets

Chapter 36 – The Bird is the Word

Chapter 37 – A Lesson in Physics

Chapter 38 – Return of the Curious Puppy

Chapter 39 – Bird in a Bind

Chapter 40 – Riding the Badger

Chapter 41 – The Battle for Aetna

Chapter 42 – A greater army

Chapter 43 – The March towards the Sisters

Chapter 44 – Undead Horde vs. the Army of the North

Chapter 45 - Doomed

Chapter 46 – Battle for the Four Sisters

Chapter 47 – ‘Second’ in Command

Chapter 48 – The Mighty Hero Stands Firm Against all Enemies

Chapter 49 – Progression toward the Goal

Chapter 50 – The Final Countdown

Chapter 51 – Onward goes the Hero

Chapter 52 - Preparations

Chapter 53 - The Badger, The Lich, and the Coffin

Chapter 54 - Never Give Up

Chapter 55 - Top Floor

Chapter 56 - Final Battle

Chapter 57 - Windfall No

Epilogue

From the Author

Other books by Ryan Rimmel

Noobtown Series:

Mayor of Noobtown  (Audio)

Village of Noobtown  (Audio)

Castle of the Noobs  (Audio)

Dungeons and Noobs  (Audio)

More Ryan Rimmel

Get alerted on new releases, promos, and more by following Ryan on Facebook or Patreon.  For those audiobook lovers, don’t miss Johnathan McClain’s incredible performance of Noob Game Plus here on Audible.

Prologue - The Sanctum of the Sphinx

There were few places on Ordinal more secure than the Sphinx’s lair.  She, of course, had spent centuries making sure of that.  Despite the hidden sanctuary being hers, and hers alone, for all that time, her love had finally returned to share it.  At least, parts of him had.  The Dark Overlord’s resurrection had come at a price.  He had immediately fought some sort of unholy abomination that was capable of going toe to toe with a Godling.  The price her lover paid to return to her had been steep. 

They were alone in her private chamber, but they were not alone in the lair.  From this safe haven, she’d run a shadow empire that had withstood the ages.  Her every waking moment had been spent preparing for her beloved’s reappearance. 

Presently, even the typical silence of the lair was noticeably in abeyance.  Between the piteous moans of her lover and the shrieks of her armorer, the place was downright noisy.  Her foolish armorer had lost a rare and exceedingly powerful Dagger of Slaying.  He was being tortured until the missing dagger was returned to her armory.  Then, whoever stole it would replace him, probably.  The Sphinx could be fickle at times.  She found it amusing. 

Right now, she was considering having the armorer executed, for the sounds of his screams were breaking her concentration.  Her favorite’s last missive was lost.  The letter appeared to have been intercepted by one of her plaything’s armies.  That was sloppy of Bashara.  However, the Wizard was unused to open warfare, and the letter was little more than an acknowledgment of her earlier plans.  Bashara’s indiscretions would obviously be forgiven, for the Sphinx could forgive almost anything for her favorite. 

Still, it was rare that the Sphinx was worried about anything or anyone, save Bashara.  Now, her worries were piling on top of each other. 

Rising on silken slippers, the Sphinx walked over to a cabinet and opened it, examining one of a dozen vials.  Some contained the rarest liquors in the world, while others held the rarest poisons.  She even had a dose of Elder Demon’s blood poison, leftover from the days of fighting beside her love.  What she’d had to do to get that poison still caused her stomach to curl, even centuries later. 

The Sphinx pushed all of that aside and found a small jug.  She sniffed it once, her Perks informing her that it contained only the usual brew.  She tossed back a swallow of the nasty stuff, a simple corn whiskey.  She occasionally liked to remember that she had once been a simple country Rogue.

She toasted to simple beginnings. 

Thinking over her last instructions to Bashara, the Sphinx considered that maybe she had been a bit too vague.  She had told her to find a dungeon under a castle and search it for the Dark Overlord.  She had known that he was in stasis somewhere and was determined to find him.  It had been centuries since the Sphinx had even the slightest hint of where her lover might be, though.  Bashara had agreed and quickly been dispatched again before much more discussion could be had.  Then, the Dark Overlord had fallen back into her life.  Wherever he had been hiding for all those long centuries was of the utmost curiosity to the Sphinx.  Unfortunately, the Dark Overlord was beyond speech at the moment. 

Looking up to a high point on the wall, she waved her hand.  A small section of brick vanished, revealing a painting.  A younger version of herself, one that she hardly recognized anymore, stared back at her.  The Sphinx smiled sadly, staring at Grebthar’s picture.  He was laughing next to a beautiful, innocent, stupid woman.  The youthful version of herself was so happy.  The Sphinx doubted she could even get her mouth to smile like that anymore. Insofar as she was concerned, the only negative aspect of the whole work of art was that the fucking badger was in it.  Even so, his passenger brought another smile to her lips. 

That badger had been the only sore spot in their entire relationship, but even she had to admit that Grebthar had a reason to keep him.  Godlings were strong against all Damage types but one, and his bond with the stupid badger allowed him to be resistant against that one weakness as well.  The only real shame in the arrangement was that she had been unable to find the spectacularly annoying ball of fur after the Dark Overlord finally kicked him to the curb. Currently, she was genuinely regretting forcing them apart.  Had Badgelor still been bonded with Grebthar, her lover would still be intact.  Without that bond, he had been vulnerable to Plasma attacks. 

Clearing her mind, the Sphinx looked fondly at the little girl in the painting for a moment, but that child was long dead.

Bashara, on the other hand, was busy searching for the Dark Overlord.  She had been doing so for ages, and the Sphinx had even dared to hope that she was getting close.  Bashara wasn’t going to find him, not now.  The Dark Overlord, or at least the pieces of him that were still attached, had teleported into the lair last night.  His wounds had been the work of someone who knew him.  That was the only possible explanation the Sphinx had been able to come up with.  Whoever had used Elder Demon’s blood poison, to eliminate his ability to use Void magic, and then hit him with a powerful Plasma blast had to have been intimately aware of his weakness.  There were only a few beings on all of Ordinal that could even perform such a feat.  She intended to kill every last one of them to ensure that she punished the animal responsible for the heinous act against Grebthar.

That was an issue, though.  Any being with that amount of power was going to actually require an expenditure of resources. The Sphinx took another swig from her jug and considered her options.  In any case, she had time.  The Dark Overlord was going to be in a magical healing chamber for weeks, if not longer.

The sound of flesh slamming into stone caused the Sphinx to drop the jug, as she broke apart into five perfect copies of herself.  Recovering from the rare startling, one of her images grabbed the jug and replaced it, while the rest materialized again in the heart of her sanctum.  She held twin daggers in each of her hands, neither fully manifesting itself in reality, as her shadowy form spotted the dissolving body of her beloved.  He had managed to crawl from the healing pod and collapse onto the floor.

It hurt her to look at him.  His divine body was partially disintegrating while the plasma chased him through death.  If he had not managed to get into the sanctum, he would have perished.  As a high level Chosen, the weight of his body was nothing to her.  She lifted him quickly, returning him to his healing cocoon.  Pain wracked his body.  He moaned again, as a particularly vicious spasm ran through him.  It inwardly burned the Sphinx for someone she loved so much to be in such pain. 

“Who did this to you?” she half-sobbed.  The notion of spending all the effort searching, only to have her beloved stolen away, was too much.  Even the Dark Overlord’s shard was dim. He must have resurrected himself just the day before.  From personal experience, she knew her lover was in agony from the Plasma wounds.  As she watched his Mana pool deplete, the Dark Overlord’s eyes opened. 

“Jim,” he hissed, his eyes unfocused from the pain. 

Instantly, the fear and worry on her face vanished.  She remembered Jim.  Bashara had mentioned him.  Bashara was supposed to have given more information in her next letter.  Jim was some podunk mayor in a burnt-out town somewhere in the Riverlands.  She could have a half-dozen assassins in his stupid village by morning.  She could. . .

“Curious puppy,” he moaned, falling unconscious. 

For three heartbeats, the Sphinx sat unmoving.  Jim the Curious Puppy was a fucking character from children’s books.  She thought back to discussions with Bashara and frowned.  It was just as likely that the fictional dog could have done this as the incompetent mayor Bashara had described.  Plasma was the most advanced type of magic.  There were only a handful of people who trusted themselves to use it in combat, and there was no way Mayor Jim of Podunk could do it.

The Plasma wasn’t even the most concerning thing, though.  The real issue was the poison.  You had to have an Elder Demon willingly give you its blood to make it.  No one on Ordinal had convinced the Elder Demons to part with any of theirs in centuries.  That left the Sphinx with one vial, despite her exhaustive efforts.  That could only mean that someone had either found or stolen a vial in preparation for killing her lover. 

Bashara’s letter was missing.

Windfall. When the name struck her, she had been close to dismissing Jim from her mind entirely.  Bashara had investigated and found nothing but low-level monsters.  The Sphinx knew Windfall was destroyed, yet Bashara had mentioned the mayor.  The deadliest woman on the planet considered her options. So many targets, so little time.

Realizing she had no more time for reflection, the Sphinx concentrated her magic, allowing the lair to wrap its true master in waves of healing shadow.  His wounds were so terrible; it would be a long time before he recovered.  If his mind was gone as well…

“Oh, mighty lord, I will do my best to keep you. . .safe,” she whispered into his ear, as the cocoon enveloped him.  Turning, she spotted a man clad in jet black armor kneeling in the doorway to her private chamber.  It was as far in as he legitimately dared to enter.  The Sphinx grinned at the tenacity of it all.  The man glared back at her with hate-filled eyes.

“I have completed the task, Mistress.”

Chapter 1 - From Hero to Zero

I had gone from the literal apex of power on Ordinal to a level zero nobody in a second.  I was having an odd day. Just a short while ago, I had been grievously injured during my battle with the Dark Overlord.  During our fight, from which I was still recovering, the Dark Overlord was hurt so severely that he couldn’t finish me off.  Instead, he’d thrown me through a Demon Door, which had reset all my levels back to nothing. 

<I need options, you unpopped zit,> I mentally shouted at my erstwhile demon.

<Give me a minute.  I’m thinking, Dum Dum,> came the reply.

It was going to be one of those days.  I was currently standing in the middle of the statue room, the place where it all began.  This place had been my first experience with Ordinal, the world I ended up on after my death.  I glanced back at the <admin console>, waiting for Shart to respond.

That was new.  I’d gained access to the Administration skill when Shart had been repairing me, after my first experience with having two different Mana networks.  Now, I was using it to talk to Shart, since Bashara had banished him to Limbo.  It had been a very strange day.

Grebthar was alive, his actual name was Charles, and, by the way, he was the Dark Overlord.  While I was still reeling from that revelation, he’d killed Jarra.  He’d killed her right after she’d achieved something grand.  The healer had just become a Cleric, an adventurer, like me.  Okay, not like me, exactly.  I had levels in multiple classes, but like me well enough. 

I had finally accepted my feelings for her, and that was why the Dark Overlord killed her.  He had done it just to be a dick.  Well, that was fine.  It was a day that ended in “y”, and those were all good days to kill Charles. 

Shart was thinking so I began looking around.  I was back in the statue room, where each statue represented a different class.  Some of the statues were dim now. They seemed to correspond to classes I’d already chosen.  I wondered what happened when you stepped through the Demon Door to Remort, but the obvious answer was that you came back here. 

Speaking of which, I brought up my menus.  Instantly, I was assailed by a prompt.

●   Thou hath Remorted, Congratulations!  Thou hath Remorted One Time.  Thou wilt need to achieve level 0 in 3 additional classes to verily ascend to thine next level.

That was my UnBound trait kicking off.  It let me ignore level restrictions when selecting options.  It was beneficial, but it did have its limits. 

“There,” yelled out Shart, blasting into my head hard enough that it should have deafened me.  However, in this room, I didn’t have Hit Points or even organs, for that matter.  There was nothing to damage.

“What did you do?” I replied, testing the new mental channel that Shart had forged inside my brain.

“I cheated, Dum Dum,” replied the demon.  “I linked through that <console> that I installed in your noggin.  Now, I have instant access to you whenever I need it.  Isn’t that great?”

“Is there any way for me to mute that?” I questioned.

“Ha,” laughed the demon darkly, “I think you’ve screwed up enough without cutting off your best source of support.”

I nodded.  Shart was annoying but very useful.  He was like some sort of in-game help menu that could use his wicked powers to assist me, as he saw fit.  He seldom saw fit in a decent manner, but he was a demon.  I was learning to live with that.

“So, should I stay here or go lower?” I asked.

“First off, you should access the Remort menu and pick your option,” stated Shart.  “Then, we can talk about the next steps.”

I nodded, bringing up my menus.  Glancing through them, I immediately noticed that Shart wasn’t hiding in plain sight anywhere on my menus.  I imagined my menus now looked like what ordinary people saw when they brought up their … inner head menus.  They looked like a web browser, actually, with too many tabs open and the music playing from somewhere you couldn’t close.  That still felt sort of weird, but not as odd as it used to.

The Remort tab was there now, and I opened it up.  The tab quickly filled out, a far more elaborate page than the rest of mine.  I glanced through it.  The options were flat out weird.

●   Pray tell, grand adventurer, thou hath advanced far into thine...

“Shart, what is going on here?” I asked, looking away from the menu into my mindscape.  I still missed the little red blood clot.  It was strange to not see him on any of my sheets or tabs.

“I can’t see anything,” replied the demon sheepishly.  “What’s wrong?”

“The page is written in badly formed archaic English,” I replied.

“Oh, that might be a problem,” said Shart. “No one has Remorted in a while.”

“Why is that?” I asked, trying to read through the ‘thees’ and the ‘thous’ on the page and failing at it.

“I’m not entirely sure,” replied Shart.  “It was never really my department.  If a few monkeys die, who cares?”

“Wait a second, I talked to Charles!  He didn’t sound like this,” I said, thinking back to my conversations with the devil. 

“Duh, Dum Dum,” replied Shart.  “After Grebthar left, people continued to develop their language.  Eventually it ended up in this more formal dialect, so that’s how everyone talked for a few centuries.  Eventually, they got bored with it and switched back to a more archaic, less complicated, version of the language.”

I shook my head. At least they weren’t talking in valley girl or something. I could imagine it now.  “Like, fer sure, do you want to, like, totally Remort or some junk?”

Rolling my eyes, I continued trying to gauge what everything meant.  I heard a clicking noise in my mindscape and looked over toward the sound.  It was coming from the admin console Shart had built.  The demon had just moved it to the platform that made up my higher consciousness.  I would have complained, but there was no point.  Shart was going to do what Shart was going to do.  I was trying to kill Charles and getting into a fight about console placement wasn’t advancing that cause.

“Found it!” exclaimed Shart.  Suddenly, the page reformatted into modern English.  It wasn’t my actual spoken language, of course.  English was not the language of Ordinal.  I just interpreted everything into English.  What I verbalized wasn’t even a language I had ever spoken before.  It sounded like English to my ears, though, thanks to Ordinal’s magical linguistics. 

“Some sort of <admin> thing?” I asked.  The <system> ruled the physical laws of Ordinal.  As such, it had control over menus, gravity, and the like.  However, even this found a way to get even odder.  There were some skills that the <system> had decided no longer had a place on Ordinal, so it had deactivated them. 

●   Great news, Chosen, you have elected to Remort yourself.  You will now have access to the Remort menu.  Please select which class abilities you would like to lock into your Base Build from now on.

“Base Build?” I asked.

“When you go back to Remort as a 1st level character, you can gain some characteristics from each of your classes that you already possessed.  You get to use those even if you aren’t that class anymore,” said Shart.  “You do get to retain all your skills, though, but you might not be able to use all of them.”

“Makes sense,” I replied.

“Really?” asked Shart suspiciously.

“Fuck, no!  I just say, ‘Makes sense,’ when I’m not going to get a better explanation out of you.  It makes no sense whatsoever.  When I say, ‘Makes sense,’ what I really mean is, ‘I’m just going to muddle through it without your help,’” I thundered at him.

Shart became quiet.  After a moment, I heard the clicking again.  “You don’t need to be a dick about it.”

The Remort menus were pretty straightforward.  I had some abilities unlocked for all of my classes, with Woodsman having the most options.  I was level 15 there.  The Sorcerer class had the fewest choices, as I was only level 3 in that class. 

●   You are granted Woodsman’s Lore.  This perk will follow you to your next Remort!

●   You have an animal companion.  You may elect to maintain him or choose another perk from Woodsman!

●   You touched a Dungeon Core!  You gain the ability to choose one additional stat bump or perk!

●   Error, no level 30 abilities found!

●   Error, no level 60 abilities found!

●   Beast Lord Path abilities Badger’s Rage and Badger’s Toughness will be applied when you are within four leagues of your companion.  You may select one additional perk from your class list!

“You get something neat at level 30 and 60?” I asked Shart.

“Yes,” he replied meekly.  “Why did you yell at me?”

I inhaled sharply.  “The Dark Overlord just killed Jarra.  I’m still rather upset about that.  Not to mention the fact that I feel like I’m starting this world all over again.  It’s stressful.  This world is stressful, and sometimes I just need a straight, easy answer from you.”

“Oh, that’s very tragic.  I think I understand your feelings now,” replied Shart.  “Jarra was the one who shot arrows?”

“No,” I said, gritting my teeth.

“Was she the one with the mustache?” he asked.

“No.”

“The really big…” he started.

“No!  She was the pretty blond woman who just tried to help people, and I let her die.  I let her die because I was too stupid and trusting,” I growled.  “Now, I don’t get an option to choose for the level 30 or 60 ability?”

“Correct,” replied Shart quietly.  “It is probably because of UnBound.  You shouldn’t have even been able to Remort right now, but, because the <system> saw your total level was 60, you got to anyway.”

“Thank you,” I replied curtly.

I selected the option to keep Badgelor.  He was useful in a fight, and I didn’t fancy betraying him.  Badgelor had stalked Charles, who just so happened to be Grebthar, for centuries just to enact his revenge for betraying him.  I was going to do everything in my power to avoid being hunted by the furry little lunatic.  Plus, he was worth way more than one perk. 

That left me with two perks or a perk and a stat bump.  I took the bump, applying it to my Endurance.  I selected Improved Companion Bond with the other, which would grant me regeneration.  That had always been helpful in the past.

●   You were a Warrior!  You favored the Resistance perk, and that will stay with you.  Base Defense value of Resistance is now character level +5!

●   You were a Duelist!  You can maintain access to your Duelist tree or select a perk.

●   You touched a Dungeon Core!  You gain the ability to choose one additional stat bump or perk!

●   Path: No Warrior Path Found!

I skipped over the prompts that I was missing.  No sense in crying over spilled milk. 

The Resistance perk upgrading from my class level was going to be handy.  My Resistance had grown to match my Warrior level in my last build, which had rendered it less effective.  That had mainly been because I was leveling up in multiple classes instead of a single class, like everyone else. 

I also selected the Duelist talent, as it was far more useful than a single perk could possibly be.  With it, my sword was going to be much more helpful than it would be otherwise.  Finally, I selected Iron Will, remembering the agony of Ordinal without that perk.  It reduced the feeling of pain by 50%. Iron Will turned a sword wound to the gut into something painful rather than utterly incapacitating.

●   You were a Rogue!  You favored the Mobility perk, and that will stay with you!

●   You were an Adventurer!  You can maintain access to your Great Explorer talent or select a perk.

●   You touched a Dungeon Core!  You gain the ability to choose one additional stat bump or perk!

●   Path: No Rogue Path Found!

Adventurer was even easier.  Great Explorer was a massive no brainer, if only for the bonus experience it tended to give me.  Great Explorer also let me smell interesting things, like health potions and hidden doorways.  That was worth far more than a single perk.  Likewise, Mobility, or the ability to move my body in whatever means I decided, was also advantageous. 

Picking a perk was going to be trickier, though.  I’d made great use of my Poisoner perk, as well as my Shadow Walker perk.  Poisoner had made it much easier to make and use alchemical poisons.  Shadow Walker made sneaking around much more manageable because I could Shadow Meld.  Considering it for a moment, I decided to take Shadow Walker.  Many classes had similar perks, and I figured I was more likely to find a substitute for the Poisoner perk in one of the other classes, as no class seemed to focus on poisoning.  I considered that more likely than finding a Stealth perk outside of the Rogue class.

●   You were a Mage!  You favored the Hardened Barrier perk, and that will stay with you!

●   You were a Mage Knight!  You can maintain access to your Magical Sword Knight talent or select a perk.

●   You touched a Dungeon Core!  You gain the ability to choose one additional stat bump or perk!

●   Path: No Mage Path Found!

I selected Second School as my bonus perk without really thinking about it.  My ability to cast from two schools of magic had been critical in defeating Charles the last time we fought. 

I could choose any perk I had rather than having to start at the bottom of the tree.  The ability to cherry-pick my perks from anywhere on the list had some advantages.  Assuming I Remorted again, I could go as high up the perk tree as possible to choose which ones I took.  Hopefully, I’d find one that improved Plasma control. 

The thought of trying to maintain a barely controlled ball of Plasma directly in front of my person caused me to cringe.  I balled my hand into a fist unconsciously and noticed that my rings were absent.  I reached up to touch my amulet, assuming it was also gone.  However, my fingers ran across the cold metal of the necklace. 

“Shart, where is all my stuff?” I asked.

“You are wearing it, aren’t you?” responded the demon.

“Would I be asking if that were the case?” I countered dryly.

“Oh… that isn’t good,” responded Shart after a brief pause.  “I get a feed into your character sheet while you are in a Chamber of Souls.  Your stuff is gone.”

“The Ready room?” I asked.  At least that was what I had been calling it. 

“The room with all the statues? A Chamber of Souls?” stated Shart, who was busy concentrating. 

“Is it like the Requirements Room?” I asked. 

Shart inhaled.  “What stupid are you going to drop on me now?”

“It’s a room that only shows up when you need it,” I joked.

“Hardly, Dum Dum, it shows up for everyone whenever they Remort,” replied Shart, “What you just said is stupid.  Why would a room exist only when you need it?  You would have to build it first, and you’d have to know why you were building it in the first place.”

“Couldn’t it just be magic?”

Shart facepalmed.  “Magic doesn’t work like that!”

“Well, I mean, it’s magic,” I said.

“No, magic is careful study followed by careful preparation,” hissed the demon.  “Look, I’ll try to keep it simple for your meager intellect. The room is called the Chamber of Souls, you Dum Dum!”

“Okay, geeze” I said, trying to change the subject.  “I thought you said my equipment would stay with me.”

“It should have, unless it was destroyed or something,” said the demon.

“Could Plasma destroy magical items?” I asked, knowing the answer already.

“Certainly, but…” Shart trailed off.  “Oh, no.  You did the thing that almost killed Badgelor again, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did, but only to kill Charles,” I explained.  If that wasn’t a good use for all-destroying Plasma, I didn’t know what was. 

“It didn’t kill him, that’s for sure,” said Shart.

“Actually, I think it did,” I replied.  “Charles had to use a Resurrection perk after I hit him with it.  I think that Plasma might be his weakness!”

“Everything is weak against Plasma, except War Badgers,” groaned the demon, “Like, just for a fun example off the top of my head, all your magical items!  They got disintegrated, Dum Dum!  I’m surprised that the amulet is in one piece,” exclaimed Shart.  I tried to examine the necklace but got nothing. 

“Your skills, except <Administration>, are all locked out here.  You’ll have to check it out back on Ordinal,” said Shart.

●   You were a Sorcerer!  You favored Dragon Scales, and that will stay with you!

●   Subclass, you did not select a subclass!

●   You touched a Dungeon Core!  You gain the ability to choose one additional stat bump or perk!

●   Path: No Sorcerer Path Found!

Sorcerer, the class I’d taken the fewest levels in, gave me the fewest benefits.  I didn’t even have many perks that I considered useful.  They were all just steppingstones to higher tier perks that I never got to select.  I chose the stat bump and applied it to Willpower.

●   Congratulations, you will respawn on Ordinal with 2 stat bumps!  Enjoy your more powerful body!  You selected +1 Willpower and +1 Endurance. 

●   Select a Remort perk!

The options for Remort perks were highly limited.  None of them seemed to improve my abilities much.  Instead, they all appeared to be <system> related.  Several focused on removing penalties for experience, for example.  As I’d leveled up to Max Level in under a month, I didn’t see how those would be useful.  However, as I scanned the list, I found one I knew I had to take.

●   Alternative Identity: You have had multiple lives on Ordinal; now, you can have multiple names!  People you meet will know you by the newer name, and you can decide which name to make your permanent moniker.

“Oh, really?” I asked.  As much as I didn’t want to lose my chosen name, there were points when you had to acknowledge that its time had passed.  Maybe I’d choose Grebthar, just to piss off Charles.  Of course, Grebthar was going to bring its own set of problems, so that was probably a bad choice. 

I considered my options and decided it was time to retire ‘Jim’ and come back as someone new.  Someone who was less trusting.  Someone who was less of a pushover.  I would reinvent myself and kill Charles while doing it. 

“Well, you can finally choose a new name.  Just say out loud whatever you want,” Shart instructed me through our new connection. 

“I’ll have to think about it a bit,” I replied mentally, pushing it to the back of my mind. 

All that was left to do was choose a class.  All the classes I’d already leveled in, however minimally, were darkened.  I knew that meant I couldn’t pick them again, not even Sorcerer, in which I was only level 3.

“Any chance I’ll ever be able to go back into one of the classes I already picked?” I asked. 

“I’m checking your options,” stated Shart.  “I think I’ll have something for you eventually.”

“Meaning the next time I spawn?” I replied, looking around.  “Okay, I still have plenty of options for this time.”

There were seven classes left on this level.  If memory served, there were more powerful classes below.  However, something Charles had said tugged at the back of my mind.  A god required worshipers.  If he didn’t have them, he would perish in agony. 

“Shart, can I just choose a second-tier class?” I asked.  It would make sense to choose a class with more powerful skills and perks. 

“Maybe,” replied the demon, and I imagined him looking over my character sheet.  “I don’t recommend it, though.  You won’t be ready to start as a second-tier class until you hit max progression in at least three other complimentary classes.  You usually have to do some other stuff, too.”

“Other stuff?” I asked.

“Sky Pirate, for example,” stated Shart.  I missed the little ass hat pacing around in the background of my mind.  Wow, who would have thought it?  “You need a sky ship before becoming a Sky Pirate.  You don’t simply, magically get a nice boat.  You have to provide it, or the <system> will provide you one.  If the <system> provides one, it's going to be the worst boat ever.  You’ll be lucky if it floats, let alone flies.”

Sadly, that seemed entirely in line with how the <system> worked.  Much like anything else on Ordinal, the least costly option was always the first choice.  It also tended to be the worst choice, but you wouldn’t find that out until later.

“So, just get a new ship then,” I replied.

“You have to spend perks to do that,” answered the demon.  “Otherwise, you are attuned to your first ship.  So, you see, you can just become a Sky Pirate, but you would put yourself at a massive disadvantage by selecting it too early.  Plus, you don’t even know how to sail a sky ship.”

“Don’t second-tier classes grant skills?” I asked.

“Only rare skills.  Why would they need to hand out basic skills?” replied Shart.  “You should have picked those skills up when you hit Max Level in the earlier classes.”  I thought about Glorious Robert, who was a Warrior and an accomplished Sailor.  He wouldn’t need any new sailing skills. 

“And the only reason we are even talking about this is my UnBound trait,” I said.  That trait gave me options, but not all my options were wise to take.  If I truly wanted to kill Charles, I’d have to get way more prepared before thinking about second-tier stuff. 

“Yes, if you want to actually be successful in a second-tier class, you have to lay the groundwork when you Remort,” stated Shart.  “After you Remort the first time, you learn about second-tier classes.  Later, you can get quests to do what is necessary to take them.  Then, you just have to pick the right classes and complete the right quests.”

“So, what you are saying is that I could have picked something that would have totally screwed me,” I said finally. 

“Basically,” Shart confirmed.

“Is that why you destroyed the Godling statue?” I asked.

There was an uncomfortable pause.  “Well, yes.  Bringing you here wasn’t easy.  If you’d spawned as a Godling, you would have died within five minutes of arriving on Ordinal.  You would have lacked the required followers,” explained Shart.

“Even with Jim the Curious Puppy?” I asked, remembering my namesake.

“It doesn’t work like that. At BEST, you would have turned into a curious, foolish puppy.  Basically, exactly as you are now, but in the form of a tiny dog instead of a human,” explained Shart.  “It’s far more likely that you would have just died.  You didn’t think you were Jim the Curious Puppy, after all.”

I glanced at the statues.  They were in organized clusters.  If you knew for sure what you were looking for, it wouldn’t be challenging to find.  I headed for the set containing Mage, Sorcerer, and Wizard.  The Wizard was the only one I could select.  I placed my hand on it and felt an odd sensation, as if reality moved.  A massive map appeared before me, showing a dragon sleeping in a bunch of hills.

A male dragon sleeping in a bunch of hills.

A very male dragon, having a great dream, sleeping in a bunch of hills.

“Shart, the drawing here is kind of obscene,” I stated.

“That’s not a drawing; it's a map,” replied Shart.  “That’s the dragon, Zentarim.”

“That little pimple on the dragon’s… buddies is a school?” I asked.  I was squinting, trying to read the locations marked on the weird-ass, erect dragon map.

“No,” answered Shart, “It's a city, larger than Narwal, that the academy resides in.”

“Where is Windfall in comparison to that?” I questioned.  Shart expanded the map massively.  I whistled.  Now that I had a size comparison, I saw that my town must have been hundreds of leagues away.  At least hundreds of leagues away from the horny dragon.

“So, if I select the Wizard class, that’s where I would respawn?” I asked.

“Yes, it's the only academy training new Wizards at this time,” stated Shart.

“You’d think more places would want to have new adventurers,” I said, stepping away from the Wizard and walking toward the next cluster of statues.

“Most of the nations have entered into some stupid treaty to limit the number of new Chosen they promote,” stated Shart.  “The commoners don’t even know the tricks to becoming Chosen, like touching Dungeon Cores.”

“Zorlando knew,” I said.

“What did he know?  All he does is eat eggs,” replied Shart.

“That’s not Zorlando,” I groaned.  “That’s Sir Dalton.”

“Whatever.  When you have the dumb one and the stupid one, what difference do names make.  All your minions knew was that there was an old tale about a chance to become Chosen,” replied Shart.  “That’s what they were hoping for.”

“And it killed Jarra,” I said.

The next set of statues were wildly different from each other.  The martial statues all kind of stood around with weapons.  The divine statues looked holy.  The magical statues looked smart.  This group of statues just looked weird.

The first was wearing a loincloth, just a loincloth, and looked quite pleased with himself.  I checked out his face and groaned.  The statues all looked like me, and I didn’t really fancy seeing myself in a loincloth. 

“Barbarian,” I said to Shart and touched the statue.  I saw the map flash off to the west, heading over an entire ocean.  I pulled my hand back instantly.  I needed to respawn closer to Windfall.

The next statue was me dressed as a very proud hippy.  There were tree roots, bark, and flowers festively adorning my outfit.

“Let me guess, Druid?” I asked.

“You realize I can’t see anything, right?” replied Shart.

Sighing, I looked at the third statue.  Again, it was me, but in a robe and a headband.  “A Monk?” I wondered, raising my hand to it.  The map shifted far north of Windfall, in what appeared to be a massive city.  It was called Fillydelphia. 

“Is Philadelphia the capital of HarCharles’ kingdom?” I asked. as I searched the map. 

“Yes, Grebthar was quite fond of that name,” replied Shart, an odd, almost question in his response.  “You do not pronounce cities well.”

“I’ll just call it Filly from now on,” I replied.

“Everyone else does,” stated the demon.

I noticed something in with my <admin> senses, and asked, “Was there another choice here recently?”

Shart pondered that question for a moment, “Yes, there was a Monk’s school on the LOOK OUT! that trained students, but they only train elves.”

“Look out?” I asked.

“For what?” replied Shart.

“Why did you say LOOK OUT! like that?” I queried, “We had a story about a lookout on Earth, but no one said it like that.”

Shart pushed the map around and pointed right to where the other monk training spot had been, “It's here.”

“Right on the tip,” I stated, impressed. 

“Highest point on Ordinal,” stated Shart. 

Blocking that from my mind, I considered my options. 

The only functioning Monk school was in HarCharles’ kingdom.  That meant that Monk was absolutely out.  Checking Druid and Barbarian, I saw both appeared to spawn incredibly far from Windfall. 

Using all maps, I gathered the approximate dimensions of the continent we were on.  I also gained an appreciation for how Ordinal fit together.  The continent we were on was a massive donut, with an inner sea in the middle.  It looked like it had a bite taken out of the right side.  Windfall was on the northwestern section of the inner sea, with the kingdoms of HarCharles and TimSimons taking up large areas of the continent's north and south.

“Wait a second, I thought that was Falcon Crest,” I said gesturing uselessly towards the map.  “Why does it just say Falcon?”

“Falcon Crest is the older name for the place,” stated Shart, “Grebthar named it that but they’ve changed the name dozens of times since then.”

“Aren’t they concerned that it's named after a bird?” I asked.

“There is a bird called a falcon?” replied Shart. 

“Oh,” I said, my hopes for a soap opera dashed, “Wait, I called them Falcon Crest before.”

“And everyone thought you were an idiot, I mean, it's technically correct but is a really old timey way of saying it,” stated Shart. 

“What do you mean, technically correct?” I asked.

“The full name of the country is currently the Falcon’s Union of Crest and Kingdom, so falcon and crest are both in there,” said Shart, “I mean everyone knows what you’re talking about.  You just sound dumb.”

“And you never corrected me because I never asked,” I groaned.

“Yup,” replied Shart.  I facepalmed before going back to the map. 

What surprised me was that the nation of Falcon was nearly as large as either of the ruling kingdoms.  Falcon covered almost two-thirds of the inner sea.  Another exciting aspect was that, despite some heavily populated regions, the northern and southern kingdoms had vast empty stretches.

“I’d expect more people to be there,” I said.  I flipped between classes, allowing the massive map to shift around.

“Where?  Are you pointing at the map?  Because, again, I CAN’T SEE WHAT YOU ARE POINTING AT!”

I was pointing at my screen on a Zoom call.  “Oh, right, sorry.  The empty portions of the two kingdoms,” I answered.  “There are large areas that appear uninhabited.”   

“Is that an Earth thing?” asked Shart, clearing his throat.  “There are MONSTERS, you NIMROD.”  He fiddled with the map.  We could both see the map, but while I could just flip between the preset points, he could actually manipulate the map to show what he wanted to. Instantly, the chart expanded greatly, showing the whole continent at once.  All the areas controlled by humans were various shades of red.  All the regions controlled by different monsters were a host of other colors.  They occupied more than half the continent. 

I whistled.  “Wow, I assumed the humans would have isolated and destroyed the monsters.”

“Unlikely,” replied Shart.  “There are numerous events that cause monsters to spawn everywhere, and excess monsters leave the dungeons all the time.  Humans generally only bother to occupy the territory that’s most beneficial to them and leave the rest of it to the monsters.”

I had seen Earth humans keep rebuilding homes in flood plains and hurricane zones, so I wasn’t sure about Shart’s theory on beneficial territories.  However, I didn’t want to get into a prolonged discussion about it. 

“What’s left?” I asked, walking over to the three divine statues.  They were all wearing some sort of robes.  If pressed, I would describe them in terms of who wore it best.  The figure on the right wore his robes like a uniform.  The middle figure’s robes looked very well-used.  The figure on the left wore his robe like an afterthought, as was any form of personal grooming. 

“So, what are these three?” I asked, gesturing toward the statues.

“You want me to just guess at what you might be referring to?” asked the demon.  “I CAN’T-”

“See,” I finished.  “The statues look godly, I guess.  They are wearing robes.”

“The Divine Statues, sure.  A Paladin is a holy warrior who draws power from the gods to smite the infidels.  Clerics are the speakers of the god who leads everyone down the righteous path.  The last group, and the only fun ones, are the Zealots.  They harness their unbridled faith to change the world,” replied Shart.

Which, of course, meant that I wasn’t picking Zealot.  If that little dingleberry thought they were a good class, there was something wrong with them.  I was guessing batshit insanity. 

“Do any of them spawn close to Windfall?” I asked.

“Actually, the boring one does,” replied Shart.

“And, according to you, the boring one is the…”

“Cleric,” sighed Shart.

I reached out a hand, feeling the class information flow into me.  More importantly, I observed the map of where the class would spawn.  It showed a location a scant twenty leagues from Windfall.  I checked the Zealot and Paladin, just to be sure, but both of those spawned hundreds of leagues away from my village.  That made my choice pretty simple.  If and when I Remorted again, I’d have to arrange transportation first. 

Right before I made my choice, something occurred to me.  “If I can get us bonded again, won’t that complicate my time as a Cleric?” I asked. 

“Somewhat,” replied Shart.  “There are places that are not going to like the fact that you have a Demonic Bond, including any religious building that is Cathedral rank or higher.  It won’t matter much anymore.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“The <admin> console in your head,” stated Shart.  “If we are bonded, I can just hop into your noggin and mask the <signal>.  It's not like I can physically go into a church anyway.”   

“That’s convenient.  I take it that you building that console in my head would be looked down upon by the <admins>?” I asked.

“It would be bad for me,” stated Shart.  “I’d get a stern talking to.  They would absolutely give me a slap on the wrist.  It would be much worse for the fool that requested the console be installed into them, though.  Only a real moron would ask for that.  I suggest you avoid any attention from the <admins> at all.”

“Thanks,” I stated.  I had asked for the <admin> console when my levels had been capped.  It had been necessary at the time.  Shart had failed to warn me that there might be problems, though, because that was so far outside his nature it hurt.  “I thought I did a good job staying under their radar.” 

“Radar?  Wow.  That’s a silly word.  In any case, you thought wrong.  You were kicking out so many <errors> last time you were in this room that one nearly performed an <audit>,” said Shart.  “If that happened, you would not be here.  They would have deleted you.”

That would be bad, considering that what existed in this chamber amounted to my eternal soul.

I selected Cleric, feeling the class flow into me like it should have the first time I was here.  I could feel my stats increasing, and I received a small allotment of starting equipment.  No starting off buck naked this time.  One of the nearby gateways suddenly opened, and I was looking into a nice, well-lit room.  There was a large altar in front of it.  Outside, I could see a forest, with wisps of snow flying about.  However, in that room, it looked warm and toasty.

“Hey, so you know how you’ve been acting like you have all the time in the world here?” asked Shart.

I walked briskly toward the gate.  “Is that not the case anymore?” I asked.

“So, <Michael> may have discovered that something weird is going on,” replied Shart.

“Are you going to be able to find me when I get to the respawn point?” I asked. 

“I’ve got it,” Shart assured me.  “I can’t directly see out of your eyes, but I can track you through the <console>.  It’s going to be tricky, though.  I have located the spawn point for new Clerics in Falcon's Union.  When you step through, I’ll be able to offer you some assistance.”

“Well, jackass, I’ll see you on the other side,” I stated, heading through the gateway into the room.

●   You have selected the Cleric class!  Please choose two stat buffs for yourself at first level!

●   You have gained the skills: Religion, Light Armor, and Blunt Weapons. 

●   You already have skill with Light Armor.  Please choose another skill, or one will be chosen for you.

●   Your Hit Point total is increased by 10.  Your Mana is increased by 10. 

This spawn was looking better already.  It sure beat falling from the sky as a massive fireball.  I brought up my menus to see what was going on as I stepped out of the room.

When my foot hit the ground, the floor seemed to open up.  I plunged straight down, repeatedly bouncing off the walls.  Finally, I slammed, face-first, into the icy ground.  My staff and robes were gone.  I heard the trap door above me slam shut, long before I’d even fully settled into the me-shaped impression on the floor.

Growling, I stood up and marched toward a nearby door.  Of course, the door was locked.  Looking around, I realized I was in a prison cell.

“Feck me.”

Chapter 2 – The cold dark cell

●   Jim, Cleric 1

●   HP: 28/40

●   Stamina: 30

●   Mana: 40

●   Quest: Kill Charles, Sharable Quest.  You must slay Charles!  He is a blight upon this world.  Charles is a world boss.  This is a multi-stage quest. 

“This is a twenty-foot by ten-foot cell, Shart,” I growled.

“Holy crap, the room is full of feet!” exclaimed Shart.  He grew quiet for a long moment.  Finally, he continued, “Oh yeah, you use feet instead of logs, like an idiot.  Look, I’ve brought up the plans for the room you were supposed to spawn in.  There isn’t a trapdoor anywhere near there.  Why aren’t you in the room?”

“I fell through a trapdoor!  Check below the room,” I growled again.

“Do you think I’m stupid?  I already checked that.  There is a kitchen located directly below the room, and you aren’t there, either,” replied Shart.  “You don’t appear to be anywhere in that sliver of Falcon.”

“Wait, I’m not where I’m supposed to have spawned?” I asked.

“Crap,” grumbled Shart, “I’m looking for you now.  This might take a minute.  Why don’t you assign your stats and then see about getting out of that cell you claim to be stuck inside?  Try not to pine for the badger too much.  He would love being in a room full of severed feet.”  Shart snickered and promptly ignored me once more. 

That was decent advice.  At least, part of it was.  I had two stat bumps to assign, so I brought up my menus.

●   Jim, Cleric 1

●   Endurance: +1 (Above Average)

●   Willpower: +1 (Above Average)

All my other stats were at 0, or average.  I had chosen those two stats for a reason.  They gave the largest increases to my Hit Points, Stamina, and Mana.  My default stats were equal to a second level adventurer, and I still had stat bumps to assign.  I considered my options for a moment and then assigned one point to Spirit and another to Willpower. 

Spirit governed the interval it took for you to recover Hit Points, Stamina, and Mana, so it indirectly helped everything.  I increased my Willpower because I was a casting class.  It seemed the most useful option, due to it increasing my Mana pool.  I checked my stats to see what had changed. 

●   Jim, Cleric 1

●   HP: 29/40

●   Mana: 50

●   Endurance: +1 (Above Average)

●   Spirit: +1 (Above Average)

●   Willpower: +2 (Good)

I looked around the room.  It was cold and dark here.  There was just enough light coming through the metal bars to let me see all the walls in the room.  The corners remained cast in shadows.  What would have been helpful was some glass, but the tiny, barred window was wide open, its frame unreachable.  A small pile of snow had accumulated on the cell floor below.  The sound of a fluttering banner, some five logs outside the window, was a nice touch.  It let you know it was also windy, to go along with the cold.

Exhaling a long cloud of breath, I turned toward the door and tried to open it.  Unsurprisingly the door was locked up good and tight.  I didn’t have any tools with me to open it.  I instantly remembered the Crafting perk that would have allowed me to pick the lock without tools.  I also remembered how easily I’d dismissed it at the time. 

Well, I have other skills.

First, I tried hitting the door, hoping that I might just be strong enough to break it open.  I was confident that pre-Demon Door Jim could have managed it.  First level Cleric me couldn’t even hit the door hard enough to hurt my wrist. 

“Howdy Pilgrim,” called out a husky voice. 

“Hello.  I’m in a cell.  Can you let me out?” I replied.  It was best to try a straightforward approach.  She, and I was positive it was a she, laughed.

“If I could do that, do you think I’d be here?” she asked. 

“Well, I need to break out,” I replied.

“More power to you,” she said.  “If you do get out, be a dear and release me, as well.”

I growled, but further efforts to rouse her got no response.  I searched the room, hoping something would activate my Improvised Tools skill.  Then, I could find a lock pick.  That was how I discovered the bodies, well, the skeletons.  There were at least three of them, huddled in what appeared to be the warmest section of the room.

“Shart,” I hissed mentally, “There are three skeletons here.”

“Excellent,” replied the demon.

“No, not excellent!  People have died here,” I replied.

“Yes, that’s unfortunate. Those random, unnamed people will be missed by someone, I’m sure,” said Shart solemnly, before continuing, “but I can use the three skeletons to narrow the search criteria.”

“So, you are just looking for a cold prison cell that has me and three skeletons in it?” I asked dumbfounded.

“No, I WAS just looking for a cell with you in it.  Now, I can enhance the search criteria to include the skeletons.  Your amulet makes searching for you tricky with my current tools,” replied Shart.  He was in Limbo using substandard equipment, after all. 

“Should I take it off?” I asked.

“No, I want you to be hard to find,” replied the demon.  “Makes it less likely that other people will find you.”

As a Cleric, I said a small prayer to the skeletons.  As an adventurer, one who was currently freezing his nards off, I tried to root through their stuff.  At least one of them had fallen with his robe partially intact.  By partially, I mean there was enough there to at least cover my shame, and, in this cold, my shame was quite small.  That did not help much.

Biting the bullet, I sifted through the bones.  Unfortunately, even with my Improvised Tools, I didn’t see anything to turn into a lock pick of any variety.  I needed to think outside the box.  I had no weapons or equipment, and I was in danger of attack at any time.  I needed to use my class abilities or my skills.  It was just so cold.  If only I could start a fire, I would be warm enough to think.

“Damn it,” I muttered, bringing up my Flameology skill.

●   Flameology: Journeyman, Your skill with the magic of fire continues to burn!

One of the abilities of Flameology was the ability to generate light and heat by using Mana.  I usually only used the light part, but the heat part was sounding pretty attractive at the moment.  I concentrated on my mana network and started to move my Mana around, only to discover a problem. 

“Shart, what’s up with my Fire Core?” I thought.  You used your Cores to convert Mana into worked magic.  Right now, neither of my Cores appeared to be at all developed, meaning that I couldn’t use them to convert Mana into Fire magic. 

“Poor Dum Dum,” replied Shart, “You didn’t get a Path for your Mage, so it looks like you don’t have access to your magical Cores.”

“How does a Cleric cast spells then?” I grumbled.

“Prayer,” replied Shart.

I understood that, at least.  Different classes used magic differently and I had Clerical magic now.  I just hadn’t used any of it.  Maybe, just maybe, I’d get lucky.  I brought up my spell list. 

●   Jim, Cleric 1

●   Spells: Light, Mending, Heal Damage

I instinctively knew which prayers would activate the spells.  I was long past the point where having knowledge jammed into my mind bothered me. At least, that’s what I thought, until I discovered the verbiage of the prayers.

“Duz, the soap that Duz everything presents: Light,” I intoned.  Quite suddenly, a large glowing orb of light appeared, floating directly in front of me. 

“You figured out a prayer,” stated Shart.

“I am certain that was an old sales jingle for a soap opera,” I said.

“What’s a soap opera?” asked Shart.

Sighing, I prepared to cast Mending, which would bring two parts of an object together.  “Strong enough for the toughest jobs on Ordinal!”  I rolled my eyes as I Mended two skeleton bones together.  “Did Charles come up with all the Clerical Spells?”

“Just the most commonly used ones,” replied Shart.  “The Grebtharian religion is the dominant religion on Ordinal, after all.”

I wasn’t injured, so I didn’t want to use the Healing spell yet.  The other spells required almost no Mana, while the Healing spell was quite expensive at 30 points.  The Mending spell held some promise, though.  I could use Mending to combine several items and make a lock pick.  Unfortunately, there just weren’t enough small items lying about to accomplish very much. 

As an unusually cold blast of wind blew through my cell, a thought occurred to me.  I remembered a story about a man who had killed a bear with a frozen weapon.  I sighed, pulling aside my flap.

“What the hell are you doing?” yelled Shart, as my grunting filled our ears.

“Making a lock pick,” I replied.

“No, oh, that’s gross even for you, you stupid meat bag,” groaned the demon.  “I have a better idea, anyway.”

“Can you remotely open the door?” I asked, hopefully.  I wasn’t super interested in making a frozen brownie brick to use as a lock pick anyway.

“Nope, but it looks like I can activate your old class levels.  I just need to make some minor adjustments,” stated Shart. 

That sounded great, but Shart was notoriously unreliable in situations like this.  “How confident are you of this?”

“Very, let me just flick a switch here and…” began the demon.  Suddenly… nothing happened. 

“Should something have happened?” I asked. 

“I tried activating Duelist.  It looks like it did activate, but nothing happened,” stated Shart. 

“Is there an error message?” I responded, flexing my muscles in an attempt to see if I felt more buff.  I didn’t.

“Of course not!  I’m hacking the <system>,” said Shart.  “Let me try Mage Knight.”  Again, nothing seemed to happen.

“Well, that was disappointing,” I replied.

“Shut up, I’ve been working on this since you told me you were flung through the Demon Door and fully intended on fighting the Dark Overlord,” stated Shart.  “So much of my life wasted on your trivial nonsense.”

“You are immortal,” I commented, as I resumed my squat on the floor.  I was concerned I’d need to eat something first.  Then again, maybe doing your business on command was a Skill.  My uncle was able to fart on command.  Those two abilities had to be related. 

“I don’t see why it isn’t working, though,” replied Shart.  He grew quiet again for several minutes.  “I mean, they are staying activated.  You should have access.  Let me try Adventurer.”

<Click>

One moment, I was an average man, squatting next to skeletons in a freezing prison cell with his loincloth pulled to the side.  A man who was buried in the basement of some strange building.  The next moment, I was a man in searing agony in the exact same place.  My very body seemed to warp under my skin.  My skull slamming into the floor was something I hardly noticed, as pain tore through my being.  My bones seemed to shatter, my muscles shredded, and my spine felt like it was splitting in two.  Then, after what seemed like days, the pain ended.  I was just a man lying in a puddle of rapidly freezing drool.

“Jim, no, Jim!” shrieked Shart.

“You suck,” I hissed awkwardly, trying to get my face off the floor.  I was finding it impossible, as my cheek was frozen to the stone. 

“You’re alive,” cried the demon, as delighted as I’d ever heard him.

“That’s debatable.  What the hell happened?” I croaked, yanking my head free with a snap.  A sickly warm sensation followed, as blood ran down my cheek.  Looking at the floor, I realized I’d left a non-trivial amount of skin there.

●   You have taken 3 points of Damage. 

“I think I screwed up,” stated Shart hesitantly.  “I got you your levels, but, when they reactivated, you didn’t get any of the other level-up benefits.  You know, like the euphoria that fills you and allows you to ignore the pain of leveling up.”

“Why does everything on Ordinal cause pain?” I shrieked.  I gingerly felt my cheek and realized how badly I’d just ruined my face.

“Well, in this case, your body is being fundamentally altered,” explained Shart meekly.

I brought up my character sheet.

●   Jim, Cleric Level 1

●   Adventurer Level 14

●   HP: 29/190

●   Mana: 50/50

●   Stamina: 205/205

●   Strength: +0

●   Dexterity: +3 (increased by 3)

●   Endurance: +2 (increased by 1)

●   Spirit: +1

●   Willpower: +2

●   Charisma: +1 (increased by 1)

The pain I was in was due to a Health Crash.  Iron Will let me function, but that did not mean the sensation was pleasant.  I tried to curl up into a corner, but I was so cold that I was starting to suffer frostbite in my extremities. 

“You could use your Healing spell,” offered Shart.

“Okay, I’m Healing it,” I prayed,

●   You have cast Heal Damage: Base Healing: 10 points for 30 Mana.  Bonus healing: +4 Willpower, +2 Spirit, +5 Charisma.  Total Healing: 21 points. Cooldown: 1 Minute

Suddenly, I regained 21 Hit Points.  The bleeding from my face stopped.  When I touched the skin, it felt sort of like plastic, but my cheek was whole. Clerical healing was on a whole different level than healing potions.  Healing potions tended to have minor side effects.  You could also tell, even hours later, that you’d drank one.  With Clerical healing, I felt right as rain with no adverse side effects.  I was loving it.

I cast the spell again a minute later, and the pain level dropped to a reasonable amount.  Well, what I thought was a reasonable amount, considering I was at half-health.  Unfortunately, two castings of that spell in a row were all I could manage with my current reserve of magic unless I wanted to Mana Crash.  My lower stats were preventing me from recovering Mana very quickly.  At my current rate, I was recovering 2 points of Mana every five and a half seconds.  That meant that I was earning just a hair over 20 Mana a minute.  Not really, though.  Mathematically, I was recovering 20 Mana every fifty-five seconds. 

That was still much faster than my natural healing, which was currently only 2 points every seven hours.  Then again, I’d never been much for natural healing.  I’d almost always used various herbal remedies to heal faster.  Now, the need to use those was debatable if I could just magic myself whole.  I mean, I had a massive stock of healroot in my dimensional storage, if I could ever get to it.  With this, though, why would I bother?

I kept healing myself every minute and a half until I was at full health. 

“Why didn’t my Hit Points top off when I leveled up?  Was it because of your hack?” I asked.

“Yes, and I’m sorry,” groused Shart.  “I didn’t think it would happen that way, but, in my defense, I don’t think anyone has ever done that before.”

“Water under the bridge,” I said, stretching.  Now that I was at full health and with increased stats, as well as having access to all my Adventurer perks, things were looking up.”

“I’ll keep looking into it.  We can have you at your old fighting trim in no time,” assured Shart.

“What do you think you can manage?” I asked, considering my classes.  “Can you turn them on and off?  Maybe bypass that level 60 restriction?”

“Hmm,” thought Shart, while the sound of typing filled my ears, “I’m trying to work my magic for a workaround.  Right now, I can turn classes on; however, I am in Limbo.  My options are somewhat restricted through this connection.  If I get back onto Ordinal proper, I think I’ll be able to do more.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like turn classes on and off,” said Shart hopefully, “But, they are going to be locked in at whatever level you had them.  I don’t have the kind of access I’d need to remove levels from you.”

“If you can’t remove levels, could you add them,” I asked, now also hopeful.  It would suck if I was level 31 in Duelist and couldn’t activate a level 30 class at the same time.

“And mess with your character sheet?  Perish the thought,” said Shart chagrined.  “No, your character sheet is sacred.”

“But not my memories?” I asked.

“Why would they be?” replied the demon.

The <system> did not place the same level of sanctity on your memories as it did on your class abilities, it seemed. 

“But you don’t think you could raise my max level?” I asked.  That had started this whole issue.  All my active classes combined couldn’t exceed level 60.  That didn’t include classes I wasn’t using anymore, but I only got a sliver of their power, anyway. 

“It's hard coded into the system,” replied Shart with an air of long-suffering patience.

“I thought it was just a value on a sheet,” I stated. 

Shart was quiet for a very long moment and then a second, much longer moment.  “Well, shit.”

“Has this never come up before?” I asked.

“No,” said Shart, his mind still whirring, “At least, it hasn’t been an issue to anyone that mattered.  There must be a way to increase your Max Level, if I can just think it up.”

“Okay, then.  We have a plan. Hold off on activating any more classes for the time being,” I replied.  “If I can gain levels in these classes, I want to do that.  I want to get as many Paths as I possibly can.  That means, at most, four classes.”

“Oh, that’s smart,” said Shart.  “I wouldn’t try to turn on any more classes right now, anyway.  Not until I figure out why this isn’t working.  What do you want to do in the meantime?”

“Well, with Healing magic, I can deal with the frostbite,” I said, thinking about my options.  If I slept, the cold would likely kill me.  As long as I was awake, I would be able to manage this cell just fine.

“Did you die?” came the husky voice again.

“Nope, I had to use some Healing magic,” I replied.

“Oh, I thought the Cleric in there had died,” she replied.

“I’m fine,” I replied.

“Not you, the other guy,” she said.

I looked over at the picked over, frozen skeletons and swallowed hard.  Maybe I wasn’t going to survive the night, even if I was awake. It was too cold for their flesh to have rotted away.  Something must have eaten it.  Great.

Searching around the body, I found what might have been footprints.  I didn’t see where they would have come from, though. Looking up, I did see some deep scars in the wood that could have been claw marks. Maybe something dropped down on him?

I still needed the lock pick.  Without one, I would die in here.  I began inhaling deeply.  Adventurer came with Explorer’s Nose, which I already had, thanks to the Remort.  All of the talents of Explorer’s Nose combined to turn my nose into a practical radar dish for strange items.  Inhaling deeply again, I began searching for secrets. 

“Third brick to the left,” I said to myself as I walked over to the wall of the cell.  I carefully examined the bricks.  The mortar was fully intact, and there were no cracks or other deficits.  If my nose hadn’t been driving me crazy, I would have ignored the wall entirely.  However, with the sort of twitch I was experiencing, I knew something had to be behind that brick.  I scratched at the mortar but quickly realized I’d need a tool. 

Grabbing the bones of one of the dearly departed, I returned and started to chip away at the spot my nose told me to.  Within moments, I’d easily managed to extract a small fragment.  It was only the size of my fingernail, but it gave me hope.  I started smacking the brick with a femur.

“What are you doing?” came the husky voice again.

“Escaping,” I replied.

“Is that all?” she said with a resigned laugh.  “Seriously, if you get out of your cell, you have to help me out, too.”

“Sure,” I muttered, as I continued bashing the bone into the mortar.  I started pounding it relentlessly, going faster, then slower, as my Stamina started to wan.  After an incredibly hard smack, the femur snapped in half.  Despite all my efforts, I’d barely scratched the surface.  I brought the broken pieces of bone together, preparing to cast Mend on them.  Then, I realized I had a better option.

Within moments, I had Mended both parts of the bone to the brick, making a crude handle.  The Mend spell seemed to create a bond between objects that was a hybrid of materials used.  That effectively meant that my bone handle was as integrated into the stone as if it had always been part of it. 

Grabbing onto it, I pulled with all my inconsiderable strength.

●   Jim, Cleric Level 1

●   Strength: +0

I was used to being strong.  Currently, I was about as strong as your average paper pusher.  Not one of the tough ones, either, like the kind that carried massive reams of paper throughout the office.  No, I’m talking about the type of paper pusher that sat at one spot all day, shuffling a single sheet of paper back and forth until it was time to go.

I realized that was why my chiseling at the stone hadn’t worked.  I had been lovingly caressing the brick, not pounding it hard and fast as it needed.  The brick was a demanding mistress, and I wasn’t performing like she needed me to. No, I needed some way to get my back into the job.  I used several bones from my rapidly diminishing pile in an attempt to make a harness.  Unfortunately, the Mend spell didn’t seem to work very well if you were mending many pieces together and applying significant pressure to them.  Next, I considered using my One Punch perk to the wall.  After all, it did bonus Damage to objects.  Debating with myself, I decided that it was not a great choice.  I didn’t know what was behind the stone.  It could have been multiple vials of dangerous potions that I would smash with a fist

As I listened to the banner flap in the breeze, I realized I needed some sort of fabric material that I could make into a harness.

Nice banner.

A leg bone and an arm that still had its hand attached, for some reason, were quickly mended together.  Thankfully, my grabber proved long enough for me to reach out and snatch the flag.  Getting it off its pole and back into the cell was a bit more challenging, but, with my high Dexterity, it was nothing too serious.  Soon, I was looking at the banner as it fluttered in through my jail window. 

Attaching it to the nubs of several bones I’d stuck to the brick, I managed to get the cloth strung through tightly.  Then, I wrapped it around my shoulders and started walking forward.  For the briefest of moments, nothing happened.  I had just enough time to let my heart sink into my stomach before I heard a scraping sound.  Inch by inch, I dragged the brick out of the wall.  After what seemed like an eternity, it fell free and smashed to the ground. 

Looking into the fissure, I realized I shouldn’t have been worried about smashing it.  The only thing in there was a small metal box, rusted from age.  Opening it, I found a tarnished, rusty key.  I excitedly pulled it free, dropping the box.  Then, I tapped the key several times on the wall, clearing it of rust.

That act also caused the key’s bit to shatter, falling away into dust.  I glared at the dust particles and broken key, cursing my life.  I was just moving on to cursing the gods of Ordinal when my Improvised Tools skill kicked off.

●   You have found an item that can be used as a lock pick!

Chapter 3 – The Great Escape

“And finished,” I announced with a click, as the cell door swung wide open.  I stepped through the door and withdrew my ruined lock pick.  The broken key’s shaft was now beyond even being used as a lock pick.  I dropped it, and the metal tinged off the floor.

I was now in a long, straight hallway with several doors leading to the cells.  I closed my former cell’s door.  The ice-cold draft from in there was still causing me shivers.  The inner hallway was much warmer, comparatively.  It must have been above freezing, which was heaven compared to the frozen room I’d just left. 

“Any luck?” I thought to Shart.  He was still trying to lock down where I was on Ordinal.

“Not yet,” replied the demon.  “I’ve isolated it down to somewhere near where you were supposed to spawn.” 

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“I found some sort of blocker located where you should have spawned.  I can’t interact with it very well, but it doesn’t seem to be an <administrator> artifact.  Because of that, it can’t have pushed you very far from where you should have spawned.  I’m guessing you are in Falcon, but I don’t know exactly where.”

“So you mean somewhere near in the continental sense?” I asked, placing my hands in my armpits.  I’d seen Falcon on maps.  It wasn’t quite the United States' size, but it was close.  “Well, I’ll just poke around here then.”

“Certainly!  Do feel free to do stupid mortal stuff,” snarked Shart. 

“I’ve just left the cell, Shart.  Maybe I can find a nearby town or something that you can use as a reference point,” I stated.  This place made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.  Aside from the trapdoor I’d fallen through and the multiple skeletons, there was the fact that there were other prisoners present.  Speaking of which…

“You are out,” came the husky voice.  I heard movement on the other side of the hall.  A woman was standing just inside the cell.  She was a tallish brunette who looked disheveled.  I walked over to stand in the hallway next to her door.

“Yup!  I said I was getting out, and out I am,” I replied, looking inside her cell.  She had a fire, warm blankets, and a bed.  I would have stood here anyway, regardless of the company. Just the warmth from the door was a great relief. 

“Could you get me out?” she asked hesitantly, adding a hasty, “Please.”

I gestured toward the floor, “My lock pick fell apart right after I opened my cell door.  Nothing I could do for it.”  That wasn’t the half of it.  Standing next to her door, I could see her lock clearly. It was of Masterwork quality with maximum Durability.  Mine had been shoddy quality, with only a few points of Durability left.  I doubted I could have picked her lock with all my proper equipment and unlimited time. 

“There are guards upstairs.  One of them has a set of keys,” she said. 

“I was kind of trying to sneak out,” I replied, thinking.  My current operational plan was to escape, get established again, and kill Charles.  It was always a good time to kill Charles, and letting her out didn’t really help me with that.

She inhaled and stared at me.  “You will go upstairs and get the keys.  You will unlock this door and my shackles.”

●   You are the subject of a Word of Command.  Resistance check, Critical success.  The speaker does not know their command has failed.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied in seeming confusion.  Turning toward the stairwell, I vacated her presence. 

“That didn’t affect you at all,” said Shart.

“Nope, but now I’m curious as to why she has that skill, and why she’s locked up,” I replied mentally.  I carefully crept up the stairs.  “Plus, I didn’t feel like arguing.  If she thinks I’m doing her bidding, she isn’t going to make a bunch of noise and alert those guards.  I can just leave if it looks too dangerous.”

“She’s probably just a prisoner, like you,” stated Shart.  If I hadn’t known him as well as I did, I would have missed the slight hesitation in his voice.

“No, I couldn’t read her name tag.  It was being obfuscated somehow,” I said.

“So, an important prisoner?” asked Shart.

“Possibly.  There might be some information up here that I can use to confirm that,” I replied. 

“Crafty!  I like it,” replied the demon as I reached the top of the steps.  The door was propped half-open.  There was no one nearby, allowing me to sneak out into the main area without risk of detection.  The structure seemed to be some sort of large hunting lodge that doubled as a prison for wayward clerics, along with whatever the husky-speaking woman was.

There were four half-drunk, partially unconscious guards lying about the room.

“Sheesh, if they are going to make it this easy, I might as well help her,” I thought, following one guard as he rose and staggered into the kitchen.  The kitchen was a small, isolated room off the main hall.  There was a butcher’s block near the doorway, and a large serving hatch that connected the kitchen and the dining room.  The massive fireplace in the corner was a nice touch, I thought.  I grabbed a knife as I walked through the doorway and moved in behind the guard.  The butcher’s knife was hardly a weapon, but the drunk target was hardly a threat.

●   Guard: Level 12

●   HP: 140/140

●   Stamina: 140/140

●   Mana: 20/20

As the guard cut a slice of ham for his sandwich, I slid in behind him.  By the time he spread the mayo on his bread, I’d stood up, grabbed him by the neck, and drawn the dagger across his throat.  At least, that’s what I’d attempted to do.  As soon as the blade touched his neck, my grip slackened.  The weapon clattered to the floor, leaving both of us staring at my erstwhile weapon.

“Well, that shouldn’t have happened,” I stated casually. 

Then, he started screaming.

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good.  What the hell are you doing?” Shart mentally yelled at me.

“I thought you couldn’t see what I was doing,” I yelled.

“I can obviously hear you, Dum Dum,” replied Shart, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to slit his throat,” I cried back.  I shoved myself off the guard and flipped over the counter behind him.  I frantically looked for something else I could use to murder him.  There was a point in the not-too-distant past where that would have bothered Jim, but I wasn’t that Jim anymore.  I grabbed two more knives from the butcher’s block and tossed them, one at him and the other at the group of rapidly approaching guards.  Both pieces of cutlery flopped through the air like an anemic three-year-old had tossed them. 

“You are a Cleric!” screamed Shart.  “You can’t fight with edged weapons!  They cause wounds that bleed.”

That caused me to pause for a moment.  I was playing First Edition all over again.  The Cleric wasn’t able to fight with anything other than a Blunt Weapon.  The <system> obviously hadn’t seen what happened to someone when you bashed their skull in with a mace.  Then it hit me, Edged weapons would cause a Bleed effect and blunt weapons caused Stun effects.  On Ordinal, the Clerical prohibition on edged weapons was perfectly understandable. 

“Oh, feck me,” I yelled out, rolling past the confused guard and searching for something blunt and sturdy.

“It’s an Easterner,” yelled one of the guards.  Two more broke into the tiny kitchen and attempted to surround me.  I was flinging everything I could find that didn’t have a sharp edge on it.  Guess what?  Objects without sharp edges don’t do much Damage to anyone wearing armor.  Even these lackadaisical guards were still fully suited up in their leather.  I needed a blunt weapon.  I grabbed the nearby butcher’s block. 

“A butcher’s block is blunt, Dum Dum” mentioned Shart.

“This thing only weighs one pound and is flimsy,” I grunted looking for something more massive. 

“Try to take him alive,” yelled the second guard, stepping toward me.  I flipped through the serving hatch and got into the main room, only to run, face-first, into the largest of the guards.  He was level 16 and looked very upset with me.  He was also raising a truncheon to strike me.  My one saving grace was that he was surprised to see someone stupid enough to run right at him.  I front flipped over him, kicked him in the back of the knee, and grabbed the weapon out of his hand with my Quick Steal perk.  The truncheon promptly sailed right out of my hand, clattering to the floor next to the massive guard.  He picked it up, smirking nastily at me.

“The back edge is a sharp edge, you idiot,” he said.  “We use these for beating the clergy.”

Oh, that’s clever.  The massive guard drove the truncheon into my gut, causing me to double over.  A stun effect locked me down. 

“We can still use Blunt Weapon skills on the little beasties, though,” he stated, holding up the truncheon, while casually kicking my stunned form.

I realized the boot to my midsection didn’t do very much, due to my Resistance perk.  With me at level 15, my Defense was high enough that someone making an off-handed, well, off-footed, attack into my midsection was about as damaging as dropping a sheet of paper on me.  The guard also realized that, so he hit me with his truncheon again.  That did mostly Bludgeoning Damage, and my Resistance perk didn’t help very much against advanced Damage types.

Staggering back to my feet as the stun effect wore off, I used Fancy Footwork to avoid most of his next several strikes.  Two of the guards ran into the room, leaving only one in the kitchen.  I flipped through the serving hatch from the main room into the kitchen, snatched the ham, and landed next to the surprised fourth guard.  He stared at me for a moment.  I was surely the most nimble first-level Cleric he’d ever seen.  He snapped out of his shock and readied his weapon to strike me, so I smacked him in the face. 

●   Ham Strike: Damage 2.

I hit him with the ham like a club.  As far as bludgeoning weapons go, I couldn’t recommend a bone-in ham.  While the system considered the bone to be a one-handed bludgeoning weapon, the massive wad of spongy meat absorbed most of the impact.  Coupled with my anemic strength, that was enough to cause the “weapon” to splatter against his shoulder greasily.  My lack of edged weapons meant that the wounds I could make were superficial, greasy bruises. He chuckled, so I grabbed the ham in both hands and him again.

●   Powerful Ham Strike: Damage 6 (2 + 3 ranks of Powerful Blow), Secondary effect: target is moved 3 logs, Stun: target is stunned for 3 seconds. Note: Improvised Weaponry will suffer 20 points of Durability Damage if used for a Powerful Blow.  Your bone-in ham had 4 Durability and is now Broken. 

I had several ranks of the Powerful Blow skill for two-handed bludgeoning weapons.  That didn’t aid the weapon much; it was still just a ham with a bone in it.  It did send my target flying, though.  He sailed through the air like a kite about to crash into a telephone pole.  In and of itself, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but I knew how Powerful Blow worked.  I’d hit him in the only worthwhile direction in the whole kitchen.

●   Your target has landed in the fireplace and is engulfed in flames.  Your target will take 22 points of Damage per second until your target can escape. 

Even while stunned, you could scream.

“Yup, that is certainly not a very terrible wound,” I commented, as the grease splatter on the man’s face ignited, further adding to his misery.

“Oh, Really, you bastard,” one of the other guards yelled, running back into the kitchen.  I used that as an excuse to leap back into the main room, directly into the arms of the most massive and most irate guard.  I tried to struggle free, but, at my current strength level, I was like a small child trying to escape an enraged father.  One of the two guards now in the kitchen ran out, the other having become preoccupied with pulling their burning companion out of the fire.  The furious guard grabbed his truncheon and aimed at my midsection.

This was where, in the movies, I would perform some acrobatic maneuver and cause the oncoming man to hit his teammate.  This was not a movie.  I probably only weighed about 110 pounds, soaking wet, and the massive guard behind me knew how to hold someone steady.  The truncheon slammed into my midsection with a hearty thud.

●   You have taken 9 points of Bludgeoning Damage.  Mitigate has reduced that Damage to 5 Bludgeoning, 4 Damage.  Your Defense has reduced the 4 Damage to 0.  You take 5 Bludgeoning Damage. 

“Did his Health bar move?” asked the guard facing me, as he continued to beat on my stomach.

“I think so.  Try aiming for somewhere else,” grunted the gigantic guard holding me steady.  In my experience, “somewhere else” always meant the balls.  I drew up my legs and activated One Punch.  Thankfully, the perk counted any unarmed attack as a strike, so driving both feet into the guard was allowed. 

●   One Punch: Damage: 187 Stamina = 187 Damage.  Target is knocked back 18 logs.  You are being restrained.  You will suffer 1/2 knockback Damage.

What happened next was interesting, to say the least.  The guard who had been aiming for my two best friends took the hit square in the chest.  He promptly exploded into a fine red mist that splattered into the face of the third guard who had just popped out of the kitchen.  That guard had decided, by now, that his friend was well onto the path of being a gourmet meal.  Now, he was blinded by his other friend’s blood, which caused him to fall back into the kitchen. 

I went flying backward, still being held by the enormous guard.  He had no option but to come with me, unless he wanted to release his grip.  He didn’t have time to figure that out.  We arched across the room, slamming into the head of some sort of deer-like, taxidermized creature.  My Mitigate resisted the 12 points of Damage the horns caused, after the horns finished ripping through the largest guard’s chest.  That impact didn’t kill him, but a giant, gaping hole in the chest causes one heck of a Bleed condition on Ordinal.  He collapsed onto the floor in a gushing pile of blood. 

That left the last guard, who was frantically rubbing sticky red liquid out of his eyes.  He stumbled around the kitchen for a bit, screaming, before deciding it was time to run.  I let him.  He was covered in rapidly cooling blood, and it was below zero outside.  The fact that he was wearing leather armor, comfortable for a lodge but not a nighttime run in the freezing cold, was just the icing on the cake.  He wouldn’t make it one league in these temperatures. 

That was fortunate, because I’d blown my entire wad of Stamina.  I activated my Second Wind perk and recovered 75% of my bar.

It turned out that the guy I’d exploded had the key.  It was really lucky that I had my Great Explorer perk.  I’d managed to sniff out the only key in the building, even though the explosion flung it deep into the side of a stuffed koala.  I stood there, basking in the warmth and trying to figure out a way to clear finely misted blood out of my everywhere. 

“Are you going to leave or help the woman?” asked Shart, voicing my new moral quandary.

Instead of doing either, I cleaned my hands and made a sandwich. 

Chapter 4 – Peachy Princess

My sandwich was terrible.  I blamed the absence of any ham and the slight coating of blood all over the meal.  Mainly, it was the lack of ham. 

“I guess we should rescue her,” I said, after a long moment of reflection.  Old Jim would have saved her right off.  New Jim was a bit of an asshole.  Of course, Old Jim had let everyone down and gotten Jarra killed.  He was a simp and needed to go. 

Still, she was right here.  She might even be able to tell me where I was.

Marching down the stairs, I paused for a moment to study myself in a small sheet of polished metal.  The guards must have been using it for a mirror, but, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.  They were all a bunch of ugly-ass people.  Given that I was mostly naked, I spent a reasonable amount of time scraping myself off.  Finally, I was only a slightly sticky, smelly, off-shade of red.  I went back upstairs and stole some clothes from the guards’ coat closet, so I was wearing proper winter attire for heading outside.  In the lodge, I was broiling, but it was still better than being naked.

I knocked on the door, and the woman walked over to it.

“It sounds like he gave you some trouble.  Let me out of here, or I will make it worse,” she snarled.

“What?” I growled back at her.  At that moment, I realized that she had sent me off to die against the guards.  In hindsight, assuming I had died made much more sense than what actually happened. 

“You’re alive?” she replied, looking out the window at me.  Properly looking into the room, I noticed a small stream of blood dripping down from the ceiling.

“Of course, I’m alive!  I’m….” Wait, I’m not Jim.  I’d taken the option to choose another name.  I’d have to decide here, and I better make it good.  I would stick with it for at least the rest of this Remort. 

“O’Really,” she replied.  “I can see your name tag.  Are you an Easterner?”

I brought up my character sheet.  My name was listed as Jim there, but I had a new tab for Aliases.  That had precisely one listing. 

●   O’Really - Remort Alternative Name, current default name tag.  Would you like to switch to Jim?

“What the hell?” I thought to Shart.  “How did that happen?”

“I think the naming is voice-activated,” said Shart.  “What was the first thing you said out loud when you took the renaming perk?”

Oh, really?

I’d been so happy I could change my name.  Yet, I’d somehow picked something even stupider than Jim, if that was possible. 

The woman was still looking at me.  I remembered that I didn’t have menu time anymore, and I was having a long conversation in my head.  On Ordinal, that was considered rude. 

Feck it.

“Let’s go with that,” I said, praying that there wasn’t a children’s book featuring someone with a stupid catchphrase. 

“What is your name?” I asked, realizing that I still couldn’t see her name tag over her head.

“Julia,” she replied curtly, closing her mouth with a snap. 

“See, now we know each other’s names.  Isn’t that just peachy?” I said, moving to place the key on a shelf next to her cell. 

“Well, good.  Hey, aren't you going to let me out?” she asked.  She thought I was still under compulsion. 

I used the key and unlocked the door, allowing the woman to step into the main hallway.  I tried to do a quick Lore on her, but her handcuffs seemed to be blocking that ability.  She held out her wrists, and I undid the cuffs that were there.  She took a moment to flex her fingers before grinning at me.  She grabbed her hair and lifted it off her neck, revealing a collar. 

“Will you do the honors?” she asked.  I was considering saying no, but the idea of a woman in a slave collar was unappealing to me.  I was more of a slave bikini, cinnamon-bun hair sort of guy.  I brought the key up to the lock, but it didn’t fit. 

“This key doesn’t go to this lock,” I said, fiddling with it for another few seconds.

“They must have different keys.  One of the other guards has to have it,” she said, her cheer momentarily broken. 

“I checked the building to find this key.  There weren’t any other keys anywhere,” I replied calmly. 

She inhaled sharply before turning back toward me.  I could see the wheels spinning in her mind as she determined her next course of action.  “Did any of the guards escape?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied, guessing how this was going to go.

“I require you to go chase down that guard and bring me back the key,” she said.

●   You are the subject of a Word of Command.  Resistance check. Successful. 

“No,” I replied.

“You can resist me?” she asked, her eyes widening before taking a step back.  “The cuffs are off.  I should be more powerful now than the first time we spoke.”

“You mean the first time you used your Word of Command?  I resisted it then, too,” I smugly stated. 

“Well, O’Really, you are just full of surprises,” she said, coming back on base like she hadn’t just tried to mind control me.  “You seem pretty capable for a level 2 Cleric.  Maybe we could come to an arrangement?”  She smiled prettily at me. 

“I don’t know if you have anything that I want,” I said after a moment.  Julia frowned.

“I’m a freaking princess!  I have something you want!  Just name it,” she snapped back, placing her hands on her shapely hips.

“You are a princess?” I replied doubtfully.

“No, they just take random people and dump them far up into the mountains in hunting lodges with anti-scrying wards on them,” she said.

“See, that’s why I can’t find this place,” said Shart.  “Just going to modulate the filters…”

“I’m here.  I don’t think I fit the princess mold,” I said.

“You are a Cleric!  You spawned here and were left to die.  You’d be, like, the second one I’ve seen since I’ve been here,” she said, brushing past me and glancing into my cell.  She promptly hugged herself and shivered.  “You are the only one that lasted the night, though.”

“So, you don’t care if people die in these cells,” I said.  She rounded on me.

“Of course, I care, but there wasn’t much I could do about it,” she grumped.  The princess rubbed her wrists for a moment before reaching up and touching the collar.  It shocked her, and she pulled her hand back with a whimper.

“Why are you in here?” I asked, as she started stomping up the stairs.  I followed her; she had one of those kinds of backs. 

“Because my aunt and uncle are fighting for the throne.  Whoever wins will need a princess of the royal line to legitimize their claim.” 

“So, it’s royal politics, then?” I questioned.  She looked around the room we were about to enter.  Her eyes widened, first at the large man sprawled on the floor with the massive wound in his chest, and then at the gory splatter that filled the room.  She turned to face me, drawing her hand up to form some sort of arcane, divine symbol.

“Yes, royal politics,” she answered in a clipped fashion.  “What happened up here?”

“I had a sandwich.”

“I disagree,” she retorted, as a large lump of intestines fell from the ceiling.

“It wasn’t a very good sandwich,” I explained.

“You killed all the guards,” she said, stepping into the kitchen.  She very promptly stepped right back out. 

“All but the one that escaped.  How is the one that got burned to death in the fireplace?  Crispy?” I guessed.

“You could have warned me,” she hissed, visibly attempting to gather control over herself.  “Excuse me; I’m not used to second-level clerics who can clear a room full of 12th level guards.”

“I was only first level when I did it,” I said.  “You know, if that helps.” 

“Oh, that makes perfect sense,” she smiled sarcastically.  I thought I could hear her little inner voice screaming.  She started pacing the main room.  Due to the exploded guy, it was covered in a fine mist of particles.  Each step she took became a bit stiffer.  Finally, she looked like she was about to lose it. 

“Do you want a sandwich?” I asked.

“NO, I DO NOT want a sandwich,” she yelled, before visibly regaining control of herself.  “I would like to find the guard who escaped.  I want to get the key to my collar.  I wish to remove it.”

“I could help you with that,” I replied, “for a price.”

“I already told you I’d give you anything,” she spat back.  “What do you want?  Please, just tell me!  I’ll be happy to offer it to you!”

“Where are we?”

Chapter 5 – Into the Unknown

Once the princess finished screaming, she explained that we were outside Angwin, a small town in the northern part of Falcon.  Specifically, we were on Howell Mountain, just north of Angwin. 

“Just north is a bit of an exaggeration,” stated Shart.  “I found you, by the way.”

“Great, how far away is Windfall?” I asked the demon. 

“You aren’t going to like it,” stated Shart.  He had lost the ability to project images into my mind.  Instead, he was forced to figure out how to articulate things that were best shown with pictures.  “It’s more than a hundred leagues from the Vineyards.”

“The Vineyards?” I asked. 

“There are several smaller cities that have merged to make up the de facto capital of Falcon.  Collectively, they are called the Vineyards,” stated Shart.  “That was where you were supposed to spawn.  Windfall is twenty leagues west of that.”

That meant I was a good distance away from Windfall.  I shrugged.  A little over one hundred leagues would take a bit to cross, but it wasn’t anything unmanageable. “Well, at least we have a path now.”

“Yeah, so, the entire northern part of Falcon is a series of mountains and valleys, unless you can get to the inner sea,” continued Shart.

“You’re saying I’m not going to be walking in a straight line there?” I guessed.

“Nope, call it a 140-league journey to the vinelands, give or take,” stated Shart. 

“160 leagues to Windfall,” I stated.  “The only reason I care about the Vineyards is that it’s a spot between here and home.”

“Good point,” stated Shart. 

Then, there was blessed silence, as Shart began doing whatever it was that a demon watching over his friend from Limbo should do.  I searched for Julia, finding her quickly enough.  She had stepped out from one of the side rooms, wearing a warm looking parka over her outfit.  I raided the kitchen, finding a hunk of cheese that I squirreled away in a backpack, of which I had also pilfered.  The princess stood nearby and tried to be patient.  By the time I’d filled the entire pack, she looked ready to burst.

“Are you going to help me find that last guard or not?” she asked testily.  Before putting on the parka, she’d spent several minutes looking for the other key.  Once she had decided I was right about it not being here, she’d rushed off to get changed.

“I said I would,” I replied.

“Well, it’s just, I didn’t really pay you very much,” she said.  “I mean, it's not hard to find out where we are.  There was a map in the front room.”

“Okay,” I replied and started toward the door that the guard had fled through.

“Unless…” stated Julia, as she started walking behind me.  She looked almost like a child that was wearing her big brother’s coat.  “Unless you already knew where we were.  Were you just testing me, to see if I was honest?”

I said nothing and activated my Tracking skill.  I didn’t think it would be all that challenging to find the guard.  The snow was fresh and, aside from some wind blowing a few wisps of fluffy, white powder, the night was clear.  That meant that the man’s tracks, combined with his trail of blood, were straightforward to follow.  I trudged through his footfalls, Julia trailing behind me. 

I had been wrong about the cell being cold.  Away from the stone hearths that provided heat to the main hall, the night grew extremely cold, extremely quickly.  A blast of frigid air seemed to carve straight through my coat, causing me to pause.  There was no way that the guard had survived wearing less than we were. 

I was about to suggest that the guard was, most likely, a frozen popsicle, but a quick glance at Julia stopped me.  The princess didn’t appear to be cold at all.  She looked at me with blissful serenity.  I watched her loosening her coat slightly, so that it wasn’t uncomfortable around her waist. 

“Can you cast that spell on me?” I asked.

“Sure,” she replied, whispering, “Great fires of London!”

●   Julia has cast “Resist Cold” upon you.  You can automatically resist this spell; however, you will gain no benefits from the spell should you do so.  Resist Cold will allow you to feel comfortable in temperatures up to -40 degrees.  Would you like to resist this spell?  <Yes/No>  

No way in hell I was going to resist Julia’s spell on me.  I was already checking my character sheet to verify my gender.  I selected “No.”  Instantly, the cold didn’t seem to bother me.  It felt like a balmy spring day.  Well, maybe a fall day, but it was still far more comfortable than it had been moments before. 

“So, you’re a Cleric?” I asked.  I’d tried Lore again, but the collar, not the cuffs, seemed to be blocking it.

“Hardly,” she retorted.  “I’m a Zealot.  I’d never survive bowing and scraping to some god.  You poor clerical types, you have to spend all that time on your knees.” 

“It’s not that bad,” I said, groaning inwardly.  I had been considering the spawn location more than the class itself when I decided to choose Cleric.  I should have done more investigation, because each class had its own requirements.  Having to pray to a god seemed a bit more complicated than the other classes, though. 

“You are low-level, give it time,” she admonished.  “When you spend your whole life being what other people need you to be, it gets old quick.”

I considered that and remembered what she had said earlier about legitimizing someone’s claim.  “Your aunt and uncle need you to legitimize their claim to the throne.  How would that work?”

She rolled her eyes.  “I’d have to marry one of them.  I’m definitely not looking forward to it, either.  My uncle is too old, and my aunt is too difficult to deal with.”

I kept walking.  If a woman’s most significant problem with marrying her aunt or uncle wasn’t that they were her aunt and uncle, I didn’t want to think about it.  She chuckled and walked past me.  She further increased her pace as we grew closer to some trees.  At the base of the first large tree, the guard’s tracks ended.

“The tracks just vanish,” she said, looking around but finding nothing.  The princess climbed onto a pile of snow at the base of the tree, but a higher vantage point still showed nothing.  “Can you track him?”

“From here, no,” I replied, climbing up next to her.  She swore in a very unladylike fashion. 

“Fuck a Phoenix, I need to get this collar off,” she said.  She slid down the pile of powder before adding, “It's blocking half my powers!”

“What will you do if I find him?” I asked, picking some berries off a nearby bush.  She started brushing snow off her coat.

“You wouldn’t believe me,” she replied.

“Try me,” I responded, tossing a frozen berry into my mouth.  Julia didn’t say anything, but I caught the smirk.  The berries were mildly poisonous, which I’d noted before I started picking them.  However, with my Poisoner perk and Mitigate, I avoided the more squirty of the problems they caused.  They were the right kind of tart, I determined. 

“Fine, I’m going to travel into the Vineyards to check on something,” she said, frowning at me.  “It’s something high-level.  You wouldn’t understand.”

“I need to go to the Vineyards,” I casually mentioned.

“You can come with me, if you find the guard,” she responded.

I reached into the pile of snow at the base of the tree and pulled.  With my limited strength, it took two good yanks, but the head of the frozen guard eventually popped out.  The rest of him followed, as I dragged his corpse out of the snowbank and plopped him down next to Julia.  I hadn’t expected much of a reaction.  All I got was a deep inhale from her royal highness.

“So, he was walking into the woods, and the snow from the tree fell on him.  Then, he froze to death,” she said.

“I’d say he was already about two-thirds of the way to freezing to death by the time he got here, based on his stride,” I replied. 

Julia got down on her knees and began rummaging through his pockets.  I exhaled loudly and turned back toward the lodge.  While the lodge was well out of eyesight, the Phoenix Moon's fading ethereal light was still making the night reasonably bright.  I could see a single plume of black smoke from the direction of our former captivity.  The lodge was burning.

“Hey, I think we might have a problem,” I stated.

“Hush, I’m still looking for the key,” she replied.

I felt the world slow for an instant, but I recognized what was happening and let my body respond.  An arrow whizzed past me, slamming into the tree.

“Hey, those two men are shooting arrows at us,” I said. 

A second arrow whizzed toward me.  I used my favorite trick to catch it, just as it flew to impale me.  That wasn’t my best decision.  Even at this distance, the arrow carried significant force.  Without my usual strength, it seemed destined to crash into my chest.  Fortunately, I was standing on some slippery snow.  The power of the arrow pushed me several feet, until I was right next to Julia.

Julia looked at me while snatching the arrow from my hand.  “That’s one of my aunt’s soldier’s arrows.”

I looked back at the two men.  I guessed two men, at any rate.  I suppose a better term would be “two individuals wearing bulky coats, so you couldn’t tell what the hell gender they were.”  On Ordinal, gender didn’t matter that much, anyway.  Only one of them had a bow; the other was carrying a walking stick.  They were on the last ridge we’d walked over, which was still pretty far away.  The shot the soldier made would have been impressive, even for SueLeeta. 

Scratch that, I don’t think SueLeeta can even fire from that range.

“We need to go,” yelled Julia, standing and running into the woods.  A volley of arrows followed us. 

Chapter 6 – Hiding in the woods

“I’m pretty sure the one with a bow is a Woodsman,” I yelled, as we ran into the tree line.  The long-range pelting of arrows ceased.  Even on Ordinal, an arrow had a flight path that was locked in once you shot it.  If there was some sort of homing arrow perk, I hadn’t found it.  Luckily, neither had Mr. Archer. 

“I thought you said your aunt needed you to legitimize her claim on the throne,” I barked, as we slid down a snow-covered slope and started running down another hill.

“Well, I don’t really get along with her.  I’m guessing that if her trusted men found me dead in a lodge controlled by my uncle, it would probably help her cause just as much,” replied Julia. 

Despite all the running we were doing, I was beginning to get cold.  Very cold, in fact.  Julia finally took a moment between gulping in breaths of air to freshen her spell on me.  “Sorry, it only lasts about fifteen minutes,” she choked out.  If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn I saw a twinkle in her eye.  I couldn’t bail on her out here; it was too freaking cold, and I didn’t have any shelter handy. 

Clever girl.

Two more arrows whizzed past me, causing my Fancy Footwork skill to kick on.  Trying to outrun a Woodsman in the forest was next to impossible, but no one told that to Julia.  She immediately scrambled down an icy path.  I followed her.  She slipped about a quarter of the way down and started tumbling down the hill.  I was able to stay on my feet, thanks to my Mobility perk, as well as my Hiking skill.  Unfortunately, that meant that the Woodsman had an easier target.

“Hey, you fucking ass,” yelled the Woodsman, as a hatchet flew past my head and slammed into a nearby tree.  I turned around just in time to see a second hatchet swinging toward my midsection, an enraged Woodsman wielding it.

●   Phillip Geary Hollister, Woodsman Level 35

●   HP: 420/420

●   Stamina: 122/440

●   MP: 20/20

I used Fancy Footwork and inched away from the blade currently slashing at me.  The Woodsman’s eyes bugged out at that, and he swung twice more.  I continued rushing down the slope, him close on my heels.  The attack was coming down to my Mobility versus his Elven Steps, as he continued swinging at me.  Each swing took a decent chunk out of my Stamina pool, due to the difference in our levels.  Thankfully, it was less than I remembered.  I guessed the difference was due to my skills being higher than his. 

The Remort hadn’t reduced any of my skills, and Fancy Footwork was at Talented after the dungeon.  With its combination of Dodge and Footwork coming into play, combined with Mobility, I wasn’t missing a step down the stony path.  Phillip the Woodsman didn’t have that advantage.  Every time he swung at me and missed, it took him several paces to regain his balance for another strike.

Thinking back to my Woodsman days, I realized what he was using wasn’t Elven Steps at all.  There had been several similar Woodsman perks for different environments.  He probably had some sort of Ice Hare steps or something that let him keep his footing on icy terrain.  As he missed twice more and kept to his feet, I became quite confident that he had a perk helping to keep his feet firmly planted. 

“Howdy, pilgrim,” he said, swinging his hatchet at my head.  I dodged.

“Hello, and who might you be?” I replied. 

“I might be the guy who is going to tear off your head and fuck the hole,” he screamed, swinging again and missing.

“The hole in my head, or the hole in my neck?” I asked, truly curious. 

“What difference does it make?” Phillip shrieked.  He swung again.  “You will be dead, and I’ll be defiling your corpse.”

“Well, it makes a difference to me.  I just want to know if you are more of a neck guy or a head guy.” I said. 

“Oh, Really?  You look more of a one pump chump to me,” he smirked.  “But if you must know, I’ll violate both holes, just for you.”

“Dude, you have anger issues,” I replied.

“This fight sounds awesome.  I wish I could see what was going on,” sighed Shart.

“Kind of boring, actually,” I said.  Both of us blasted past Julia.  She had grabbed a hold of a root that my Hiking had, naturally, let me avoid.  Phillip avoided it, as well, and moved to strike again.  It was then that I finally saw what I needed.  When he moved in for his strike, instead of just avoiding it, I moved my backside into position.  As he missed, I hip thrust into him.

●   Unarmed Strike: Hip Thrust Damage 0.  Target must make a balance check.

●   Phillip fails balance check.

Phillip stumbled.  On the straight track we had been running on, his flailing wouldn’t have mattered much.  He could have regained his footing, and his perk would have done the work for him.  However, we weren’t on a straight track anymore.  Where Julia had grabbed the root to stop her rapid descent, the path shifted directions.  I was able to keep running down it.  Phillip was not.  He floundered exactly one pace, before careening, face-first, into a small tree.  A loud thwack filled the air, but Phillip didn’t stop there.  The tree he hit wasn’t that thick, and he simply smashed through it.  I saw him fly into the woods before I heard a second, much louder, thwack.  Glancing around with my Improvised Tool skill, I quickly formed a plan.

Fighting a bit of nausea, I grabbed the large stick I would need to prepare my plan.  Julia ran down to me shortly after I had finished the first part.  Her clothing was torn, but she looked fine.  One glance told me that she’d used a healing spell on herself.  Her skin had that same plastic appearance, kind of like a child’s doll, that my cheek had had for a short time after I’d cast a healing spell on myself. 

“We don’t have time for this!  He will be out of there as soon as he finds his healing potions,” she said. 

“If he has any,” I responded, tucking away the one potion I’d managed to steal with my Quick Steal perk. 

“He’s not an idiot.  He’ll have several,” she stated.  Natch.  We continued quickly down the trail.

Chapter 7 – Waiting in the woods

Sometime later, Phillip Foxworth Moses shakily rose to his feet.  Once he had finally come to a rest, he had been at the base of an overturned tree trunk.  He considered himself fortunate.  Just two inches to the right, and he would have been impaled on one of the dead tree’s sharp, menacing limbs.  His thick leather armor had narrowly deflected the tree’s prickly roots.  Had he not pushed himself at the last moment, he would have been seriously wounded, instead of just badly banged up.  A second level Cleric had done this to him. 

The Woodsman struggled for a moment to get his temper in check, but it was difficult.  He had done this to himself.  That Cleric had simply been lucky; he was totally outclassed.  He had just managed to bump into Phillip at the wrong moment.  If Phillip had been focused and in control, that would not have happened. That idiot Cleric wasn’t even what upset him, not really. 

Phillip was just blowing off anger from the real source of his constant misery.  It had taken nearly a week to get up the mountain to that lodge, only to discover that the Princess had left just before they got there.  It boggles the mind. 

“Did the little Cleric beat you up?  Walk it off, Phillip.  We have work to do,” said Su-Kar in that particularly annoying, singsong voice she loved to use on him.  She adjusted her fine robe and higher quality coat as she walked over to him.  They were out in the middle of the forest on a job from the boss, and Su-Kar had spent considerable time getting properly dolled up in the height of fashion before they came here. 

When Phillip first met her, Su-Kar’s beauty had overwhelmed him.  She was possibly the single most beautiful woman that he had personally ever laid eyes on.  Her perfect skin, green sapphire eyes and long black hair complimented her exquisite figure.  The fact that she was a massively condescending, terrible bitch had taken literally minutes to overpower her beauty in his mind.  Now, he gagged whenever he saw her. If the boss had not made them work together, Phillip would have fled at the first available opportunity.  He dearly hoped that when he could eventually leave her, Su-Kar’s cooling body would be in a ditch somewhere.

“He didn’t seem like a low-level Cleric.  His Footwork skill was at least Journeyman tier,” grumbled Phillip, standing back up.  He had wanted a simple Cleric to accompany him on this journey.  Instead, he’d gotten a Sorcerer who only looked at his faults.

“Or this could be another example of how incompetent you are,” she smiled.  Phillip couldn’t kill her now.  His Hit Points were barely 75%, and he was out of health potions.  He had already used one, and he must have, like an idiot, forgotten to pack a second.  Plus, if the boss found out Su-Kar died suspiciously, she would have words with him. 

At least Su-Kar wasn’t useless in the woods, which was a surprise.  After all, she had found him.  For a moment, Phillip wondered about that before realizing she must have put a tracking spell on him without his permission.  She would be able to follow him effortlessly without displaying any real, non-magical skills. 

“Let’s get back on the trail.  I’ll find those two; then, we can torture that little Cleric,” Phillip said, gesturing to the path his tumble had created.  Su-Kar rolled her endless sapphire eyes; eyes that Phillip would have just loved to gouge out of her head. She began walking on his newly formed trail.  Groaning, Phillip yelled, “I’m supposed to be guiding you in the woods.”

“Your guidance has been found lacking.  Besides, we are only going to kill the Cleric,” she said, stomping up the path he’d formed.  “Tisk tisk, you have to remain professional, even in these trying times.”

Su-Kar emerged from the hillside and into an old creek bed they had run down.  Phillip felt the thud more than he heard it.  Instantly, Phillip’s Trap Finding kicked on, as he spotted the spent tripwire.  He spotted the tripwire, but no trap.

“Su-Kar, be careful,” Phillip called belatedly.

Su-Kar just gurgled.  A moment later, she dropped to her knees, clutching her groin in pain.  Unfortunately, she landed on the second tripwire.  That trap engaged, swinging a heavy tree branch with an even heavier stone directly into her face.  Her head snapped back, knocking her into the snow in a spray of teeth and blood. 

Using his Trap Making skill, Phillip spotted the second line as well.  The first was a classic Ball Breaker trap.  Although, in this case, Beaver Buster would have been a more accurate name, he supposed.  It was a case of two traps built together to maximize their effectiveness.  Both traps had been hidden well, placed right where he was most likely to reenter the trail.  He hadn’t even seen the secondary trap, which would have either been at about sternum or face level, depending on the target’s height.  That little Cleric was impressive. The well-made trap would have certainly crushed his boys.  The Cleric had even shaped the rocks to make them cause Bludgeoning Damage and coated them with something.  Su-Kar groaned, her Hit Points reduced by nearly a quarter from the two attacks. 

Phillip traced his fingers on the nearly frozen goo and carefully tasted it.  He quickly spit out the Frostberry pulp, a tart, but mildly poisonous, berry.  So, the Cleric had some skill in Alchemy.  He had condensed the pulp to enhance the Frostberry’s secondary properties.  Phillip could feel his intestines growling just from his brief taste.  It seemed that Su-Kar had gotten a mouthful of the stuff.  Best to not be here when that effect kicked off. 

“Walk it off, Su-Kar.  We have work to do.  I’m going to head down this trail.”

Chapter 8 – The Great Escape

“This is the spot,” I declared.  Julia sighed with relief. 

“Finally!  We’ve been walking single file for ages now, with you and that blasted stick getting snow all over me,” she said.  I glanced over at her and shrugged.  We had chosen to traverse rocky ground to make our tracks harder to find.  It was very uneven and walking in it with this much snow blowing around was hard work.  More so for me, because I had this long stick with me.  I’d been hitting every tree branch with any snow on it for the last mile or so.  Our tracks must be nearly obliterated by now.  “Are you sure they aren’t right behind us?”

“Uh, well, I think they are closer than we’d like,” I replied. 

“Define ‘closer’,” the princess ordered.

Thinking to Shart, “How close are they?”

The demon replied, “The Woodsman discovered you were leaving traps.  He knows how to deal with them effectively enough.”

“So…,”

“Move it or lose it, Dum Dum,” 

As I looked around for inspiration, Shart continued, “The Sorcerer is back up, too.  She may have detected my scrying.  I have to be very circumspect with her.”

“How likely is that?” I asked.

“That she figured out she was being watched?” responded the demon.  “Oh, I’d say about a 100% chance. That she can track it back to me in Limbo?  That’s about a zero percent chance.  No one in Limbo pays attention to you lame, boring mortals unless we absolutely have to.”

I pointed toward the nearby cliff.  “I have a plan, and it will throw them off our trail.”

“O’Really?  So, we are done mutilating corpses?” asked Julia. 

“One deer corpse mutilation is enough,” I agreed.  I had a pair of deer hooves in my pack, harvested for this very occasion.  I found the clearest spot in the woods and affixed the hooves to the bottoms of my boots with Mend.  I didn’t know how long my deception would last, though, based on what I was about to do.

“The Answer is Blowing in the Wind,” intoned Julia.  A blast of wind shot forth from her hand, back up the trail.  The spell was her significant contribution to this stage of the plan.  The Tracking skill required tracks to work.  With us walking, single file, on hard rock, coupled with me knocking down all the snow I could for a mile or more, our tracks were very dubious at this point.  Blasting the tracks away with the wind would make them extra hard to find.

“You don’t have time to go much further,” stated Shart.  My declaration of this spot was far more to do with Shart’s belief that this was the spot than my own.  “He’s getting closer.  You are only going to have thirty seconds or so before he spots you.”

I nodded.  Julia leapt onto my back.  Thankfully, she wasn’t the kind of princess who minded jumping strange men. 

Looking to the left, I examined the cliff face and the secondary patch of rocky ground over the crevice.  Then, I engaged my Flash Steps perk.  It was a movement perk that let me cross five logs of distance at a single pace. To me, it felt like stretching my leg really far. It looked much more impressive to anyone else, as I blipped away from one spot to the next in a flash.  That only covered the first step of the process, though.  I went from the center of the path to the cliff's edge in one swift motion, leaving no tracks. 

The next part was Shart’s suggestion.  I’d never been much into pole vaulting.

I jammed my stick into the ground and prayed my Journeyman Jumping skill would manage it.  It did, mostly.  Jumping massive distances on Ordinal wasn’t usually all that tricky.  Doing so with my current Stamina budget, as well as carrying a passenger, was.  The stick allowed me to vault, which lowered the Stamina cost to something I could just barely afford.  With my trusty dual-purpose stick, I would have the range to manage landing on my feet.  Hopefully.

That was important, because I needed to cleanly land on the other side without having to scramble up the cliff face.  I needed to leave no obvious appearances of someone tearing up the cliff.  Doing that would point to our new destination like a big fecking arrow.  As we sailed through the air, Julia worked on the secondary issue. 

In short, I’d thrown most of my Stamina into the jump.  That didn’t leave me anything left for the landing portion of this plan.  I had a perk called Second Wind, but it was still on cooldown from the fight at the lodge.  As amazing as that perk was, its cooldown of four hours was a significant problem.  Fortunately, Julia knew a spell that restored Stamina.  It didn’t do very much, and it also had a cooldown, but we were depending on it being enough.  Julia had to wait until I was mid-flight to cast it and then hope it worked before we landed.

We were partially successful.  I landed hard, my legs wobbling badly from the strain.  Julia’s spell had restored a trifling 12 Stamina by the time we landed.  At least the spot I’d chosen was flat.  I managed to hobble my way forward for a half dozen paces before I felt one of my deer hooves crack off.  By then, we were at the wood line.  We stumbled in, just past the first trees, and collapsed into a bush.  We began slinking away before the Woodsman could find the end of our trail.

Unfortunately, the Woodsman landed in the clearing a moment later, staring directly at the bush we were hiding in.  Julia froze for an instant.  As she began to open her mouth to cast a spell, I put my hand over her lips to shush her.  The Woodsman stared at our bush for a second, then turned to face the clearing we’d just left. 

He leapt back down, and we crawled away as silently as we could.

Chapter 9 - An Impossible Pursuit

Over an hour later, Su-Kar seethed as she finally made it to the clearing.  Seeing her oaf of a partner impatiently stomping around did not help her mood.  Walking hurt.  Everything hurt.  The first trap had bruised her pelvis, along with crushing a very sensitive spot.  Healing potions did quite a bit, but she had a lingering injury that would require a healer to fully recover from. 

Even worse, she had to put her entire nice outfit into dimensional storage, after her explosive blowout.  She was now wearing a ‘fresh’ outfit that she hated.  She had very nearly frozen to death while changing into her new clothes, and the very act made bile come up in her throat.  It was last year's fashion.  If Phillip recognized that she was wearing old clothes, she would have to kill him then and there.  When she found that Cleric, she was going to kill him properly.  Maybe Phillip had the right idea about torturing him first.

Su-Kar hated assignments that involved working with the dolt, and he had once again failed.  He’d lost the target, along with whoever she had found to aid her in her flight.  “Wher sss sshee?”  She instantly regretted speaking.  The second trap had struck her dead in the face.  Several teeth had been knocked free.  Her nose had also been crushed, along with the accompanying need to soil herself for three solid minutes.  Now, everything she tried to say sounded uncultured.

Phillip was too angry to even snort at her appearance.  She’d always assumed that Phillip’s temper would be the death of him.  If only she could do something to hurry that along.  Alas, she imagined the boss would be vexed with her.  “Remember that deer corpse?”

She turned to look at him, surprised by the non-sequitur.  He had to bite back a cruel laugh, so she turned away.  Finally, she nodded, grateful that she wasn’t required to speak.  Someone had hastily mutilated a deer corpse, not that she had cared.  However, the great pinhead had finally found his clue.

He gestured toward a clearing.  “He used some trick to not leave tracks.  He jumped to the opposite side with the hooves on his feet.  I found the strange deer tracks on the other side.  They entered into a bush and became the tracks of two people.”

“No traaappss,” she sputtered, before noticing that Phillip was also wearing a different suit of armor.  His face looked hollow.  Su-Kar smirked, only to realize how ridiculous she must look.  The realization wiped the look right off her face. 

“I think he’s a Remort,” stated Phillip.

“You thhink that he’sss a Remort?  Whhat, id he come to protect the princess or sssomething?” she sputtered disgustedly, hating each word.  “He’s disssguisssed, you fool.”

Phillip frowned while Su-Kar thought.  Their two targets were Princess Julia, who was at least a known entity, and O’Really, some Easterner who showed up in her logs as a low-level Cleric.  O’Really could either be a fabled Remort, the stuff of legends, or a higher level Chosen who had taken the Disguise skill.

Phillip, the twat waffle, had decided on the far less likely scenario; the Cleric was a Remort.  That was stupid for a very straightforward reason.  Your level still determined the highest rank of a skill you could use.  A Remorted Level 2 Cleric would not be able to access multiple Journeyman or higher-level skills.  That meant that the target was at least 15th level, the minimum to use a Journeyman skill.  That would lead any sane person to the conclusion that the Cleric was using the Disguise skill to pretend to be a level 2 Cleric.  In reality, he was a higher level Chosen. 

The Disguise skill let you show a host of incorrect information on your character sheet, like your level, skills, and even your class, if you were sufficiently skilled at it.  O’Really was probably level 30 and reasonably skilled, not a Remort like her prat of a partner thought. 

But they had escaped hours ago, and the Trap Making skill of O’Really was quite irritating.  Su-Kar didn’t mind Phillip wandering into a large number of traps and possibly shitting himself to death. She did mind wandering into them herself, though.  She also very much minded that doing so wouldn’t accomplish their objective.  The boss would be very upset, and that could have deadly consequences for Su-Kar.  Fortunately, she had other ideas.  The princess had gone off the easy paths down the mountain.  That plan held two complications.  It was far more dangerous than the regular way, and, once you did get down, there were only a few places to come out, due to the mountain’s geography.

Waving to Phillip, she gestured down the trail.  Hopefully, she could find someone to resolve her immediate problem.

Chapter 10 - The Hills have eyes

“There are leagues left to go,” I said, looking down at Julia.  She had just sat down for the twentieth time or so. 

“I’m exhausted,” she groaned.  “I’m hitting the limit of what my magic can do.  Not all of us have the Hiking skill, you know.”  Exhausted was a condition one earned if you spent too much of your time with a significant amount of Stamina depleted.  My normal pace didn’t bother me at all, but, for Julia to keep up, she had to expend a considerable amount of Stamina.  Now, her Stamina recovery was significantly reduced.  She was having massive issues keeping up a pace that would prevent the Woodsman from quickly catching us. 

“Shart, is there anywhere we can safely rest?” I asked my former shoulder demon.  Shart grumbled.

“Probably, but I think the temperatures have warmed enough now.  You can ditch her,” stated Shart.  We had been traveling down the mountain for several hours.  Julia’s all too frequent stops had originally been handy; they let me place a few more traps on our tracks.  Unfortunately, none of those traps had triggered recently.  Either the duo had stopped chasing us, or they had figured out how to bypass my traps without triggering them.  Neither was preferable. 

“I’m not going to ditch her.  At least, not yet,” I said.  While she wasn’t currently helping me in my quests to get back to Windfall and kill the Dark Overlord, there was still a chance she might be useful.  I could have traveled down the mountain without her Resist Cold spell now, but I wasn’t sure it was quite safe yet.  That might have been Old Jim talking, though.  He was a pushover that got people he cared about killed.

Still, she was nearing the end of her utility to me and O’Really could dispense with that sort of unhelpful person.  On the other hand, Julia was a princess.  Protecting her on her journey to the Vineyards, the place that I was headed anyway, might be beneficial to me. 

Julia was watching me carefully and seemed to understand her predicament.  She was slowing me down. I didn’t need her nearly as much as she needed me now.  I could see the decision flash across her face.  She was about to offer me something very personal to get what she wanted.  On Ordinal, a young woman had options that she might not have had on Earth.  Suddenly, I got a prompt.

●   Help Julia find a place to rest: Quest reward: 1000 XP.  Julia requires a place to rest.  Find her a safe place and protect her.

Feck, I could use 1000XP. 

I could have turned down sex, money, and things, but not experience.  I needed that to defeat the Dark Overlord.  Ordinal had a fairly straightforward experience system.  Each new level cost 1000 XP times your next level.  I was currently a level 3 Cleric.  A thousand XP was a fourth of the experience I needed to get to level 4.  I needed a place to level up anyway.  Cleric wasn’t my only class.

“Fine!  If you need to level up, there is a cave nearby that you could use,” grumbled Shart, offering the directions.  It only took a few minutes to reach the cave.  It was dry, empty, and well hidden; my favorite three requirements for a place to hide.  I strung a few traps, while Julia enchanted the place for warmth.  That was a bit of a misnomer.  All she did was make sure that it didn’t get too abjectly cold, but beggars can’t be choosers.  The main issue was that we couldn’t light a fire.  The smoke might alert the Woodsman, who might be tracking us.  I had figured for a long cold night. 

“Is your name actually Julia?” I asked.  I was used to everyone having longer names so Julia was refreshing. 

“Of course not!  My name is Julia Angela Claudia Carrington Ewing Gioberti Napa Ewing,” she said, grinning.  “That is quite a mouthful, though.  I typically follow the old ways and just use my first name.”

“Ewing is in your name twice?” I asked.

“Yes, it's a prominent name from two sides of my family.  Each ran their own show, so to speak,” she said.  “Do you have a first name?”

“Not really,” I said, trying to keep Jim out of it.

“Not O’Really?” she asked, as if tasting the name.  “Sounds made up.”

“It's been my name for as long as I’ve been here on Ordinal,” I said.

“If you insist.  If I were you, I’d pick a better fake name,” she chuckled.  “I suppose I am just going to call you O’Really, then.  Are you from out east?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I groaned, continuing to string traps. 

She snorted and walked over to the middle of the room.  I tossed her a chunk of the deer I’d field dressed.  “Do you expect me to eat this raw?” she asked, disgust in her voice.

“I expect you to cook it,” I said.

“I’m a princess. Princesses don’t cook,” she stated.

“I guess princesses go hungry, then,” I replied, holding up my own hunk of frozen deer and licking it.  “Yum, deer popsicle.”  In my mind, I heard Shart gagging. 

Julie grumbled before snatching my dinner from my hands and walking back to the center of the room.  “This isn’t going to taste good.”

“Not raw is good enough,” I said.  Her shoulders slumped.  With no fire, she could only prepare the food with magic.  She muttered a few creative prayers, and one of the nearby stones suddenly grew hot enough to cook meat on.  She tossed our dinner on the rock, watching it with the growing fascination of a child. 

“I’ve never actually cooked anything before,” she said finally.  “This is kind of fun.  I suppose it’s a bit like camping.”  When she wasn’t being a princess, Julia was almost tolerable.  When she noticed me watching her, she instantly dropped her smile. 

I had prompts to deal with anyway.

●   Level up, Cleric 2.

●   Level up, Cleric 3.

●   You have gained two perks!

●   Your Hit Point total has increased by 20.  Your current Hit Points are 210/210

●   Your Mana total has increased by 20.  Your current Mana is 70/70

●   You have learned new spells!

●   You have learned Endure Elements!

●   You have learned Smite!

Ordinal capped your experience at a maximum of one level per encounter.  That meant I’d gained two levels in two separate encounters.  The first level had been during the fight in the lodge.  The second was when my trap had incapacitated one of the two adventurers that were following us.  I was going to need to come up with some other sources of experience soon. 

I checked my new spells.  Endure Elements was a lower-level version of Resist Cold.  It was the multipurpose version of that spell, designed to handle all environments.  However, as a jack of all trades, it was a master of none.  Like me.  The spell would have been ineffective at higher altitudes where the wind was freezing.  Smite was a new Damage type, Holy.  It allowed me to charge an object with Holy magic and direct it into a target physically.  In practical terms, that meant hit something with a weapon while shouting a prayer.  Hopefully, this new Damage would expand my combat options, considering how ineffective my hand-to-hand strikes had been in general since the Remort. 

That left me with two perks to select and some decisions to make.  What did I want to get out of my Cleric build?  Magical healing was useful, but I had to factor that against my mission to kill Charles.  Did I want to focus on healing or branch out and see what other options a Cleric provided.  Cycling through my choices, I found two perks that I thought would be useful.

●   Self-Renewal: Whenever you cast a spell, you recover Hit Points based on the Mana expended and magical type used. 

●   Empowered Healing: Your Charisma bonus is doubled when factoring in Healing magic.  You can activate Healing magic without verbal action.

Self-Renewal was obviously useful.  Whenever I cast a spell, it would allow me to recover Hit Points, including spells that I cast upon myself to regain Hit Points.  Empowered Healing was less useful on its face, but I had come to realize that Charisma was more beneficial than I’d initially thought.  My level 4 buff was going there.  That meant that next level, my Heal Damage spell would increase from 26 points to 36 points.  The ability to cast any healing spell without having to say the ridiculous prayers was just icing on the cake, as far as I was concerned.

I cast Endure Elements on myself.

●   You have been affected by Endure Elements.  Target: Self.  Your comfortable temperature range has expanded by 13 degrees.  Base 5, +1 Spirit, +2 Willpower, +5 Charisma. 

Of course, Ordinal used something similar to Celsius.  That meant that 22 degrees was the optimum comfort point.  You could manage temperatures around 15 degrees either up or down without suffering terrible penalties.  However, going beyond 15 degrees in either direction started to cause status effects.  You could compensate for that, to an extent, by wearing proper gear.  For example, in my heavy winter coat, I could go down to -15 degrees without further penalty. The coat itself typically caused other penalties, but my Hiking skill allowed me to ignore those.  With the coat an active Endure Elements spell, I could go all the way down to -28 degrees, which was about -18 in Fahrenheit back in America. 

Julia’s Resist Cold, on the other hand, was significantly better.  It expanded my comfort zone in colder temperatures all the way down to -40 degrees, period.  I could have been wearing shorts and a tee-shirt, and I’d feel just as comfortable as if I was wearing a hefty coat. 

The top of the mountain had been considerably colder than -30 degrees.  If I’d been trying to survive on Endure Elements there, I would have eventually frozen to death.  I wasn’t sure how Heal Damage would have impacted that.  Perhaps I could have done some combination of Heal Damage and Endure Elements to survive, but it would hardly have been comfortable. 

“Shart, what are my weapon options?” I asked after a moment.

“Maces, clubs, staves,” replied the demon.  “You know, the usual stuff.”

“I don’t understand why they have hang ups on edged weapons,” I said.

“Do you ever get tired of saying that?” the demon asked.

“Saying what?” I questioned.  “The gods' choices of weapons make no sense.”

“No, not that, Dum Dum.  I was referring to your near constant use of the phrase ‘I don’t understand’,” Shart responded.  “You use it a lot.  Don’t you find it tiring?  I find it tiring.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed loudly.  Julia spared a quick glance in my direction before turning her attention back to our meal.

Shart also sighed before saying, “The gods decided no edged weapons as one of their requirements for Clerics, so no edged weapons are one of the requirements for Clerics,” stated Shart, “It turns out gods can do things like that.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just make myself a top-quality club, then.”  I began pulling out my knife as I headed toward the entrance of the cavern.  Stepping outside, I found a decent chunk of wood and brought it back into the cave.  Even at the lower altitude, and with my coat and Endure Elements active, it still felt colder than when I’d been running with Resist Cold. 

Julia had stood when I stepped outside.  She returned to her seat once I returned with my small log.  “Did you hear something?” she asked.

“No, I was just searching for something I could use to make a club,” I responded, brandishing the log and my knife.  Now that I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone with it, my knife worked perfectly.  I knew that I could eat a good steak dinner with the knife, just as long as I didn’t cause a Bleed effect. 

“Don’t you want a staff? I’m kind of unarmed here and I know I miss having one.” asked Julia, repositioning herself.  She had removed her coat and had the deer meat sizzling on the rocks.  Dinner smelled about done. 

“I’ve always been more of a hit until it squishes into a small pile of goo sort of guy,” I said.  “Do you want me to make you a staff?”

She tapped on her collar, “I am unable to wield anything until I get this off.”

Taking the knife, I brought up my Initiate rank Carpentry skill and examined my weapon options.  They were very limited, based on my available resources.  The image that came to mind was that of a pretty basic caveman club.  Well, I wasn’t going to be caught dead using something so primitive.  I continued weighing my options, rotating the mental image of the club in my mind.  I could change a blueprint slightly, just as long as I didn’t change the item's purpose.  I lengthened the club and adjusted the taper and knob until I had it just the way I wanted it.

●   You have crafted a Baseball Bat +1.  Damage 2-7.  Bludgeoning.  Special Flag: Bonus to powerful Blow, + 1-3 Damage per rank.  Durability 80/80

I spun the weapon around in my hand, slapping it against my palm several times.  It felt good.  I noticed Julia staring at it, then at my dinner.  She had plated it on a rather flat piece of wood and set it next to me while I had been crafting.  Placing the bat aside, I thanked her and began eating.  The meat was slightly cold, despite the warmth of the room.  I thought it best not to mention that fact. 

The deer meat was tough and none too tasty, but that was all that one could expect from a chef that didn’t have any cooking skills.  I couldn’t have done any better. I’d always had someone to make my food in Windfall, so I’d never worked on those types of skills.  I hadn’t even considered taking cooking skills when EstherSasha was the town’s lone cook.  Now, I was regretting it slightly.

“So, you are an Easterner,” she said after a moment, walking over to my new weapon.  She picked it up and experimentally swung it a few times.  She swung it like a weapon and not a sports implement.  That was the nice thing about bats.  They were just the right size and shape to do some real damage, but no one used them like that on Earth.  On Ordinal, well, I could crack a skull with that quite easily.

“Just because I made a club?” I asked.

“Just because you made a baseball bat,” she retorted.  “No one plays that game anymore, except for out east.  I think it’s mostly only played on the Isles.”  She handed me back my weapon.  She looked longingly at where the food had been prepared, but we had eaten all of the deer meat. 

Reaching into my pack, I broke off a chunk of cheese and handed it to Julia.  She frowned, “If you had this why did you have me cook?”

I shrugged.  Julia rolled her eyes.  I’d given her the meat because I had it.  Anything we could do to stretch out our food supplies was worthwhile. 

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” I asked.

“We are going to head to Angwin. It's a logging town,” stated Julia confidently.

She was using the royal “we,” but I didn’t have a better direction to go.  Then again, “You realize that’s the first place those two people chasing us will go, right?”

Julia’s eyes went wide.  She hadn’t considered that.  “We can sneak into the town.”

“Not to burst your bubble, but you don’t look like the sneaky type,” I replied.

“I have the Disguise skill,” she responded with bravado.  “I will just change my appearance and name, and no one will know the difference.”

“We could just avoid the town,” I suggested.  That seemed less complicated.

“O’Really, the only trail down the mountain starts in Angwin.  Unless you plan on jumping off the mountain, we have to go through the town.  They are constantly on the lookout for illegal lumberjacks,” she said.  “I doubt either of us could sneak past their sentries.”

“They have sentries?” I asked.  I didn’t really employ sentries around Windfall.

“Of course,” grated Julia.  “There are monsters and lumber thieves.  It's not like this town has a barrier or anything else to protect them.”

Windfall’s barrier did change how we protected the town. 

I was confident that the sentries would spot her.  I was pretty sure I could sneak by them if I needed to.  Of course, that would leave Julia to the tender mercies of those two adventurers.  I was trying to define who O’Really was in my head, and I realized he was the kind of guy who would just move toward his goal.  I just needed to get back to Windfall.

“Well, if you can get into town by yourself…” I began.  She stiffened, so I stopped.

“I could use your help,” she said.  “You seem quite handy, despite your lower level and lack of a Disguise skill.”

“Sorry, that’s a skill I never learned,” I said and started fiddling with the bat again.  Taking my knife, I began to peel off a few stray bits of material. 

“So, even though you are a Remort, you didn’t learn Disguise?” she asked.

“No,” I answered distractedly.  In my mind, I heard Shart scream, “Idiot!”  Instantly, I knew I’d fucked up.  She had very good timing.  Julia’s smile widened.

“So, you are a Remort,” she said excitedly and with confidence.  “I knew it!  You have to help me!”

I frowned, standing up and walking to the other side of the cave.  I could claim I misspoke, but Julia probably had the Sense Motive skill.  She might very well see through my lie.  She had the kind of face that made you not want to lie to her.  Mainly because, if she caught you, there would be consequences.  I decided to stick with the truth, for now.  “I don’t have to do anything.  I have my mission.”

“My mission is more important,” she argued, looking at the opening to the cave for a long moment.  I was about to reply, but she continued.  “I think the Dark Overlord might have awakened.”

The Dark Overlord sleeps in his Tomb of Shadow. 

Darkness wreathed a smiling man whose body spoke of endless misery.

A flash of golden hair, descending into nothingness. 

I shook my head as Shart screamed, “Don’t tell her what you know about the Dark Overlord, you nitwit!  She’s just guessing!  A few of the signs are there, but she’d need a major divination artifact to figure it out.”

I wasn’t going to tell her about the Dark Overlord, AKA Charles, AKA Grebthar, even without a warning from Shart.  That was something dumb that Old Jim would do, not O’Really.  He would keep this stuff close to his chest.  When O’Really was ready to spring, the Dark Overlord would have to be wary. 

She watched the expressions play out on my face for a long moment.  “You are the first person who hasn’t instantly denounced me for my stupid notions.”

“Well, so what?  Who cares if the Dark Overlord is awake?” I finally responded. 

“So what?  The Dark Overlord is going to destroy the world,” exclaimed Julia.  “He’s going to raise his minions and kill everyone!”

“Not if I kill him first,” I muttered.

Julia heard.  “You are just going to kill the Dark Overlord?  Yeah, right!  I don’t care if you are a Remort!  If the Dark Overlord is back, we need to find Grebthar.”

“Grebthar isn’t going to help us,” I said.

She rolled her eyes.  “I don’t need to hear that again.  If evil rises, then Grebthar will rise to fight it,” she said.  I heard her add more quietly, “And if not, I have a contingency plan.”

“Maybe you should stop believing in old stories,” I said.

Julia glared at me.  I needed to remember that Grebthar had not only spawned a religion, but that it was the main religion on the planet.  He was a holy figure, right up there with any sacred entity you’d care to think of, and I was challenging that religion’s core beliefs.  Only a handful of people knew the terrible truth.  I could almost see Julia counting to ten in her head, before she fixed her eyes back onto me. 

“If you honestly think you can kill the Dark Overlord, I happen to know someone who could help you,” she responded dryly.

“Who could possibly do that?” I asked, intrigued.  I wasn’t aware of anyone, aside from Grebthar, that could take on the Dark Overlord.  I was curious what half-baked idea this princess had to save the world from the Dark Overlord.

“I have a mission,” she said haughtily.  “I am going to summon an Elder Demon!”

Chapter 11 - The Perfect Plan

“I don’t see how this is a problem,” I told Shart.  “I’ll just convince her to summon you instead of your partner.  Boom, problem solved!”

“My partner is on summoning cooldown, so that won’t be much of a problem,” grumbled Shart.  “Your plan is stupid, and there is a high chance something terrible will go wrong.”

At least I had a plan.  Julia shut right the hell up once she saw the calculating look in my eye.  It was my firm belief that as soon as you sell someone something, the best strategy is often just to shut up.  Julia followed a similar mindset, unfortunately.  That meant that I didn’t know what her exact plan was to summon an Elder Demon, but she was confident she could pull it off.  Shart was also confident she could summon him back to the real world if she could get to a Summoning Circle. 

Real world.

Ordinal was still weird, but I’d gotten over it.  I think.

“Make sure she does it right,” ordered Shart.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I thought you said you were sure she could do it!”

“The ritual for summoning me is a bit complicated, and I’m only able to respond every 100 years,” stated Shart.  “If she screws it up, I’m going to be stuck in Limbo for a while.”

“Then, we are just going to have to make sure she doesn’t screw up, aren’t we?” I responded. 

The next morning, we got up early.  Julia’s spells had ended sometime in the night, and she hadn’t bothered to wake up and reset them.  It had been bitterly cold overnight, and she was wrapped up in every fur she had taken from the lodge.  I’d gotten by on an Endure Elements spell and by settling on simply being uncomfortable.  Shart had assured me that no adventurers were in the area, aside from the two of us, so I’d been reasonably confident that we were safe.

“How do you know adventurers aren’t sneaking up on us?” I asked.  Shart’s detection powers from Limbo were still kind of nebulous.

“Remember when I said that if the <system> reported failed Perception checks when people tried to sneak around you, the Stealth skill would be useless?” asked Shart.

“Yes,” I replied.  I understood that.  Some skills did not report either successes or failures when used against other skills.  If someone successfully snuck by you, you didn’t get a Perception failed check popping up in your menus.  If the <system> told you that, then you would know you missed something.  Something similar happened when someone used Mental Magic, but that was even more annoying and more complicated.  Mental Magic offered many false positives and partial negatives to confuse things.  Needless to say, I very much enjoyed my high Mental Resistance skill, along with the perk that made mind control magic nearly impossible on me. 

“Well, this is why,” said Shart.  “I’m checking the <system> log in that area for <hidden> skill checks.  If those guys were around, they would be showing up all over the place in that log.”

“You should use that more often,” I said.  That sounded like useful information to always have on hand.

“Hardly, Dum Dum,” replied the demon.  “The only reason I can manage it now is that I’m in Limbo.  I have different access to my console here.  I can make some checks that I can’t normally make when I’m with you on Ordinal.  Also, if you were moving around, I would miss something.  Mostly, I can’t see much of anything, though.  Like, I know there are some bears in the nearby forest.  That’s about it for lethal predators.”

“But you can’t give me a direction or anything?” I guessed.

“Nope, I don’t have any idea where the bears are in relation to you.  I can just see that there are a few of them near you,” replied Shart.

“So, you are checking the area I’m in, but not me specifically?” I asked.

“The dum dum gets a cookie,” stated Shart.  “Well done!” 

I glanced around.  The cave we had slept in was pretty shallow, but the area we were in seemed like prime bear country.  There weren’t any bear droppings in this cave, though, and I didn’t recall seeing any bear tracks while we were outside. 

Because the snow-covered them up, dumbass.

Well, we made it through the night without becoming bear chow, so there was no sense worrying about it.  That left me with one more thing to do, now that it was light out.  I activated my Administration skill and reached out to Windfall.  I’d tried it before, of course, but the Administration skill only worked in a safe area.  The lodge had not been deemed safe by the skill.  The secondary issue with communicating with the Town Hall was occupancy.  I was pretty sure the building was typically unoccupied in the middle of the night, leaving me no one to communicate with. 

I went straight to Mar’s office, which was surprisingly empty.  I was unused to him not being there in daylight hours.  I flipped to my office, which I seldom used anymore.  Based on the boxes of paper, stacks of velociraptor flags, and hat racks galore, I assumed someone was using it for storage.  On a lark, I switched over to the main podium room and found it full to the brim with screaming people.

I’d seen the main room with people in it before.  It was a broad hall with multiple rows of benches running across the room.  The town’s podium, the very place I stood when I had claimed the town, was front and center.  The room was only ever used for scarce town meetings, of which I usually avoided.  They were boring as hell, so I left Mar to run them.  From what I could tell from my clerk’s reports, the sparsely attended meetings always seemed to go off without a hitch. This time, though, the room was full of townsfolk.  Mar and Blots stood at the podium. 

“Jim’s gone,” stated a voice, “And at the worst possible time!”

There were calls of ‘Here, here,” from many other voices. 

“Jim was thrown through a Demon Door.  He will return to us soon,” responded Mar, visibly sweating.

“If he could have returned, he would have done so yesterday,” came another voice.  I recognized this one.  It was OttoSherman, verging on panic.

“No one has Remorted in ages!  No one knows the process anymore,” exclaimed Blots.

“I want Jim back as much as anyone else, but that dungeon practically destroyed our entire crop of adventurers,” stated OttoSherman, his voice rising as he spoke.  “Sir Dalton and SueLeeta are gone!  We all know about Fenris!  Jarra is dead, and Glorious Robert won’t leave his new ship.”

“We need a new mayor,” yelled someone else.

“What about Zorlando?” called another. 

Suddenly, a figure stood, his cape billowing around him.  The man took a moment to reach up and straighten his mustache, nodding to the woman seated to his right.  “I, Zorlando, will remain, but not as your mayor,” fired back his loud, clear voice.  Zorlando strolled into the middle of the room.  His angry eyes found several targets as he paraded around. Zorlando was laying it on with his swagger, daring anyone to come at him.  His walk was more purposeful, more mature than I had ever seen it before.  “I know what I saw with my own eyes.  Jim WILL be back.  I can sense him now, trying to return to us at all possible speed!”

“Thanks, Zorlando,” I said gratefully.

“You are welcome, Jim,” replied the former Mercenary.  There was a gasp, because, of course, there was.  There was also a lot of frantic murmuring.  Apparently, me using the Remote Administration skill in the main hall caused a ‘holographic’ representation of me to appear before the podium.  I could even look around the room and see everyone.  It was as close to physically being there as it could be.

“How did I miss that?” grumbled Shart, followed by a storm of typing on his console. 

Mar slumped down in that instant, and an ugly couch arose in the back.  I assumed the sofa to be a gigantic animal carcass or a dead dog, but it turned out to be a War Badger.  Badgelor rushed to the podium.  “Where the feck are you, Jim?”

“Falcon, near Angwin,” I replied. 

“I know where Falcon is!” exclaimed Badgelor.  He turned and expanded into his Ultimate Form, before rushing out of the room.  In case you were wondering, his Ultimate Form did not fit through the door without causing a need for considerable repair work. 

“Great, you found Badgelor,” said Shart sardonically. “Hurray.  Isn’t that grand?”

“Jim, things have gone poorly since you went through the Demon Door.  We are under attack,” stated Zorlando.

“They are attacking the Western Gate Fortress?” I asked.  The might of the armies of HarCharles and TimSimons must have been fighting just outside our walls. 

“No, there were more trolls. They are attacking us from the east.  I am the only adventurer here.  While I am doing my very best, the enemy is quite tenacious,” answered Zorlando.

“When will you be back?” asked Mar.

“I don’t know.  I’m going as fast as I can,” I replied, explaining the situation as quickly as possible.

By the time I’d finished, the townsfolk seemed reasonably placated.  I had learned that the trolls were occupying the Eastern Gate Fortress and making strikes into Windfall Valley.  Zorlando had been using the Dashing Dandies to oppose them directly, but it had been slow going.  Trolls were fast on their feet and could take a lot of damage.  That meant their usual tactic was to rush in, smash something, and pull back without suffering severe casualties.  Right now, only the strength of the Dashing Dandies was keeping Windfall safe.

I wanted to ask where SueLeeta and Sir Dalton had gone, but that seemed like a poor question to ask in the middle of the town meeting.

Digging through the building menus, I found something interesting.  Windfall Valley was broken up into four provinces.  Windfall was in the western province; my control usually stopped there.  Now, I had an option to build in the southeastern province.

“Am I to understand you are attempting to claim the adjacent province for Windfall?” I asked Zorlando. 

He nodded.  “It seemed to be the best strategy.  We have defensive advantages when fighting on home territory.”  I considered that.  The trolls were occupying that chunk of land, but they hadn’t tried to take control of it.  It was possible that they couldn’t take control of any territory.  I double-checked my maps.  Zorlando had personally claimed the southeastern territory for Windfall. 

If someone affiliated with the town claimed a province, then I, as mayor, gained building privileges in the territory.  Since the province was contested, those options were limited.  Glancing through them, I could build a few basic resource extraction camps.  Then I found military camp and realized what Zorlando was shooting for. 

“Should I be making you some sort of camp in the adjacent territory?” I asked, checking my build menus.

“I was hoping you would ask that,” stated Zorlando.  He proceeded to give a long, rambling speech about his many accomplishments while fighting the trolls.  His oration included his many trials and tribulations while returning his poor, wounded men back to the Barracks for healing. 

Searching through the build menu, I found an Outpost and an Advanced Camp.  Scrolling through both, I learned that the Outpost was for exploring a territory, while an Advanced Camp was for exploiting the area.  Selecting Advanced Camp, I found that it had several add-ons that I could use to expand the structure.  I chose a palisade and a lookout tower before selecting ‘build’. 

“Strange, it didn’t ask me for any resources,” I whispered to Shart.

“It won’t. Advanced Camps are simple to build.  The <system> assumes you’ll find all the resources on-site,” stated the demon.  I nodded.  I found the required materials.  All of them were tier one, meaning unprocessed.  That was the least efficient way to build a structure, but at least the materials would be readily available. 

“Excellent!” exclaimed Zorlando.  “I shall have it built without delay. You have my word!”

I felt like I had accomplished something.  In my absence, the town had continued leveling up.  Many of the townspeople had hit Journeyman and beyond with their skills.  The Wind’s Saw was running at full capacity, finally, since CarpenterJohn had advanced his Carpentry skill.  HankAlvin had further increased his Armor Smithing skill and was cranking out much better, flashier armor for the Dashing Dandies.  Had it just been trolls that we were dealing with, Windfall would have been just fine. 

Of course, it wasn’t just the trolls, and there were still things the town couldn’t manage.

A haggard woman ran into the main hall, which had been steadily clearing out as Zorlando gave his rambling report to me.  Her eyes locked onto mine.  In a furious scream, she shrieked, “What did you do to my husband?”

“Dum Dum, hide.  It’s a banshee!” warned Shart.

AvaSophia charged the podium.  Zorlando stepped back, allowing her to walk right over to my hologram.  She went to hit me, swinging her hand right through my face.  “He’s broken!” she cried out as her hand missed.  “You broke my Fenris!”

“Oh, never mind.  It’s just her,” Shart sighed.  His typing resumed.

I didn’t know what to say to AvaSophia.  She was sobbing now.  Ashe ran up next to her.  She looked up at me with piteous eyes.  I’m sorry.  She heard you were here.”

“How bad is he?” I asked dumbly.

“Compound spinal fracture,” said Ashe.  “Not to mention the stuff that was ground into powder.  AvaSophia is positive that Jarra could have helped him, but I don’t think she could have.  I know I can’t.  SueLeeta went with Sir Dalton to find a healer who can fix something like this, but it is going to take a massively high-level healer.  We are talking about one with highly specialized skills.” 

“And he’s not doing so good,” whispered Zorlando, pained by the admission. 

“I’ll… do something,” I said numbly.  Helping the Woodsman was not going to aid me in killing the Dark Overlord, but Fenris was my friend.  I had to do something for him, didn’t I?  Besides, if I fixed Fenris, then he could help me kill Charles. 

“See that you do,” said Zorlando quietly.  “And Jim… hurry.”

Zorlando’s hand moved over the podium.  Suddenly, I was back in my own body.  I had suffered some serious wounds before, but it sounded like the Dark Overlord had destroyed Fenris’ spine when he hit him.  I knew lost body parts could be regenerated, but Ordinal did have permanent injuries, too.  I couldn’t cut off Fenris’ head and regenerate the rest of his body. 

Looking over at Julia, I saw her quietly watching me.  As soon as she saw me watching her back, she readjusted herself, turning her gaze to the ceiling. 

“Julia, you are a Zealot. Are you any good at healing?” I asked.

“Decent, I suppose,” she replied, gesturing toward her collar.  “At the moment, I’m kind of restricted.  Why, do you have a boo-boo?”

“No, I have a quest to heal someone with a compound spinal fracture,” I answered. 

“You picked a bad quest,” she replied, snuggling down further into her furs.  “No, I can’t fix a Permanent Injury of that sort.  Fixing that kind of injury would require multiple perks that I never bothered to take.”

“What are you specialized in?” I asked.  Julia examined me carefully.

“That’s not a very polite question to ask someone,” she said finally.  “However, if you must know, I specialize in barriers.  I’m a damage mitigation caster.  If I was at anything approaching my full power, we could walk through this forest naked without anything hurting us in the slightest.”

I lowered my head and mentally spoke to Shart, “Well, that’s a bust.”

“She’s not walking around naked right now is she?” asked Shart.  “You humans and your fixation on jiggly bits.”

“Not that, dipshit.  I mean about her being a damage mitigation caster,” I hissed. 

“Not every divine caster is going to specialize in heavy-duty healing.  Most people prefer to not take Damage in the first place,” stated Shart.

I tried to restore communication to Windfall, but I was unsuccessful.  Grumbling, I checked my menus and found that I could only initiate a conversation with Windfall for fifteen minutes a day.  I could still modify the town in the tabs, and I had something like a basic messaging app with Mar, but I wasn’t going to be able to talk to anyone again until tomorrow.

“It’s a shame I can’t have a steady communication channel with someone other than you,” I said. 

“Why? Bored of me already, Dum Dum?” asked Shart distractedly.  “Am I not providing you with the lively conversations you have grown accustomed to?”

“You wouldn’t have to listen to me ramble quite so much,” I replied. 

“Yes, that would be nice,” stated the demon in a bored tone.  The way he said it made me the tiniest bit suspicious. 

“You red zit!  Who can you let me talk to?” I growled.

“Seriously, why am I surprised you didn’t figure it out already?  I’m able to link to you due to the remnants of our bond.  You have an intact bond with Badgelor,” stated Shart.

“I’ve never been able to communicate with him through the bond before.  We’ve always had to talk in person,” I said.

“Well, I wasn’t in Limbo before.  I also figured out a new way to piggyback on our bond.  With this last flip of a switch, I’ll be able to see what you are seeing,” stated Shart.  With no further warning, my eyes began to burn.  “I was able to copy the <carrier wave> from the Remote Administration session and apply it to myself.  Now, I can see everything you see.”

“So, you can poke around on my character sheet again?” I asked.

“Not quite that good.  I’m actually using the feed from your eyes.  When you ‘look’ at your character sheet you are using a mental projection.  No dice there, I’m afraid,” said Shart.  “Anyway, let me try this out next.”

Suddenly, everything tasted like the color purple.

“Where the feck is Angwin?” boomed Badgelor’s voice in my head.

“In Falcon,” I replied, trying my best not to grab my head with both hands. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.  Falcon is huge,” answered Badgelor angrily.  “Wait, Jim?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Oh, feck me, that little arse cross-wired our brains, didn’t he?” asked Badgelor.

“I managed to accomplish a tasty feat of Spiritual Magic, thank you very much,” Shart responded.

“Oh, feck me, proper!  I can hear him, too,” grumbled Badgelor. 

“What happened to SueLeeta?” I asked.

Badgelor didn’t say anything for several seconds.  I grew considerably anxious, before he finally responded.  “SueLeeta and the dummy left town.  He had to go meet up with the king, and SueLeeta couldn’t bear to be around the broken idiot.  She says she’s going to find a healer.”

“Fenris?  How bad is he?” I asked.

“He’s still unconscious,” replied Badgelor.  “He’s dying, Jim.  Ashe has been there daily, but she’s not nearly a good enough healer to fix this.  We are going to need a Cleric who specializes in Permanent Injuries.”

“We could heal that,” I said.  Badgelor and I had Regeneration.  It allowed us to repair almost any injury.

“No, we couldn’t,” replied Badgelor after a moment.  “More accurately, we couldn’t heal it in time for it to matter.  Injuries like that require hundreds of thousands of Hit Points to recover from, all the while you are wasting away.  Even with the wee demon boosting your healing rate, and assuming both of us were scarfing healing potions, an injury like that would set us back for years, if not longer. “

“I wouldn’t think it would be that much more complicated than a limb,” I said.  With all my gifts, along with a steady supply of medicine, a missing arm would take a month or two to recover. 

“Your Mana network binds to your spine,” stated Shart, “And everyone has one, even if they aren’t using it.”

“Charles knew right where to hit him,” stated Badgelor.  “It was one of his favorite moves.  If you can find a healer who can fix him, which is unlikely, then it's going to be a massive resource sink to heal him up properly.”

“I know that strategy.  Armies used it frequently in Earth’s wars. You attack someone with a weapon designed to wound them badly, not to kill them.  Then, that wounded soldier is out of action, as well as a second healthy soldier to take him off the field,” I said coldly.  “That sounds like Charles.  He was breaking Fenris, so someone had to stop fighting to save him.”

“Aye, that’s exactly what Charles would do,” agreed Badgelor.  “I have no idea where you are going to find the herbs required to heal Fenris.  You have healroot here.  That’s at least a good base, but you are going to need some rare herbs, as well.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.  “What about Glorious Robert?”

“Wet dummy is getting his boat ready.  He intends to sail out and find you,” stated Badgelor.  “We didn’t know where you would respawn, so having a ship that could go anywhere seemed useful.  He is one crazy bugger.”

“Don’t like ships?” I asked.

“Sailing the seas is dangerous,” replied Badgelor.  “I have a bead on you now.  I’m heading your way, but it’s going to take ages to get there.”

“I thought you weren’t built for overland travel,” I stated.

“I’m not,” replied the badger, “but I have some tricks, if need be.”

I felt a tapping on my shoulder and hastily cut the connection.  The amount of mental effort required to use this new communication method with Shart was very different from normal.  The fact that Julia had managed to come up right next to me and tap me on the shoulder was not comforting.  I would definitely have to ensure that I was in a safe place before trying to talk to my companion again.

“You’ve been staring off into space for ages now,” she said.  “Did you go up a ton of levels or something?”

“Just two,” I replied, stretching my neck. 

She looked at me for a moment, nodded, and began pulling her heavy furs around herself.  They seemed redundant with the magic she could throw around, but, then again, the extra protection couldn’t hurt.  It was light out now, so I cast Endure Elements on myself; she did the same to herself.  As I worked my magic, Julia smirked at me.  Then, with a nod, both of us left the safety of the cave.

“Careful, I think there are bears about,” I said, searching the local area for bear tracks.  I still didn’t see any, so we kept moving.  It took a few minutes to find a trail that headed, more or less, downhill.  Once I did, we began briskly walking.  I noticed a strange, wooden V-shaped track next to the path.

“Log flume?” I asked, punching the side.  The rotten wood caved in, revealing nothing but ice and snow inside. 

“Those are everywhere around here,” Julia replied.  “There’s plenty of wood, and the King’s River runs right by Angwin.”

I ran my finger down one of the mostly intact boards, pulling back a splinter.  That was another thing that movies got wrong.  Going down that flume like a water slide would be painful. They built flumes as quickly and cheaply as possible.

We were still above the snow line.  However, as we crested a slight ridge and looked down, we finally saw Angwin.  It appeared to still be miles away and thousands of feet below our vantage point. 

From what I could tell, Angwin was a decent-sized town, butting up against the river.  Two great sawmills stood at the water’s edge.  Even from this distance, I could tell that the builders had gone through great effort to artificially split the river.  Doing so allowed more water to be pushed near the mills, before it all tumbled away in a waterfall.  The road we needed to take was visible from here.  It cut right through the city.  That seemed the only place to continue downward, unless one had some substantial climbing equipment.

“We can make it there by afternoon,” stated Julia, heading down the game trail.  I watched her walk for a moment, but, in all those furs, it wasn’t entertaining.  I began slowly following her.  She suddenly halted as if stunned.  I looked around but still didn’t see any bear tracks. 

“I guess there aren’t any bears after all,” I said.

●   A Drop Bear has attacked you.  You suffer 47 points of Damage from a sneak attack!

Chapter 12 – Drop Bears, they are real and terrifying

“Run,” I screamed, as I clocked the third bear off me.  Your average Drop Bear looked like a cute, but rabid, koala bear on meth.  They were larger than koalas, though.  I guess, if a koala bear had taken steroids for a year or two, they might be the average size of a Drop Bear.  I turned just in time to see another unnatural horror drop from the trees.  It landed on Julia with a dull thud.  She shrieked, before a powerful shock wave exploded from her.  The furry terror went flying off into the distance. 

Instantly, I was mentally transported to a forest surrounded by wild cats.  Every step I took was its own private shitshow.  For a bare moment I stood frozen until Shart screamed, “Jim, puma check!”

I shook off the memories.  I quickly ran through my puma check and barely evaded another Drop Bear.  I managed to swing my mighty bat around, connecting with the creature’s head for a grand slam.  My breathing got ragged as I searched everywhere at once.

“Julia, puma check!” I yelled.

“There are pumas too!” she screamed.  She did not do her puma check properly and a Drop Bear fell straight towards her.  Who didn’t know how to do a proper puma check?

“I Shall Smite Thee,” I screamed, activating my Smite spell.

●   Smite: On a successful hit, adds 1-8 Damage plus bonus Damage equal to 5 times your Charisma modifier.  Damage is doubled vs. Undead.

These little bastards were just normal, horrible animals.  With Smite and my bat, I was able to deal around 30 Damage per swing.  Unfortunately, the little gremlins had over 150 Hit Points.  They also tended to vanish into the trees once I’d hit them the first time.  Julia was having a bit more luck with ranged attacks. She had a Holy Bolt that would track creatures that injured her, even if they ran off.

“We got this,” she declared.  She lit off another Holy Bolt into the trees.  “How many could there possibly be?”

***

“Their numbers are basically limitless!”

Phillip sat in the drafty inn, enjoying his breakfast of eggs and Drop Bear.  The meat was gamy, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.  It was expected in the high mountains.  The old man serving him was chatty.  As he poured Phillip a mug of hot WakeUpJuice, he continued talking.

“Yup, worst season for Drop Bears we ever had, and no adventurers willing to quest for them,” he rambled, gesturing toward the mountain.  “See that high ridge over there?  We had to abandon that entire face of the mountain; they were so thick.”

Smiling, Phillip continued eating. Tracking down a stationary object was always easier than trying to catch something on the move. 

***

“Keep moving!  There are too many of them!” I shrieked, clubbing at another fecking Drop Bear with my bat.  The trick was to keep them out of the trees.  If you kept them out of the trees, they didn’t have easy access to the healing bark they kept chewing.  It was not a great solution, but it did solve the problem of their never-ending Hit Points.  I powered forward on a pathway leading to a small clearing.  It should provide a bit of a respite.  There were no trees overhead.  Julia suddenly ran past me, a Drop Bear attached to her chest.

“It bit me in the boob,” screamed Julia, who had failed her puma check.  Julia’s heavy robes had been torn open down to the waist.  In an older sex comedy, the effect would have been hilarious.  Here, it garnered a different reaction from me.  It was hard to find anything funny or attractive after you saw what I saw.  A man-eating koala trying to rip a breast off a screaming, twisting woman was one of the most horrifying things I had witnessed on Ordinal.  And I’ve seen some shit.  After casting a healing spell, I got rid of the beast, smashing it with my mighty bat. However, the Drop Bear had not released its grip as quickly as anyone would have hoped.  The result was a bit stretchier than I imagined. 

Julia looked down and screamed louder than she had before.  I stood open-jawed. 

“If you cast a healing spell while the injury is still happening…,” I started.  Julia glared at me.

“The affected area becomes semi-plastic for a moment.  That is why you have to wait until the attack is over; otherwise, you can have unnatural stretching,” she said, unable to look at her chest.  Her eyes suddenly teared up.  “Be honest, are they still even?”

The word came to me, unbidden, “Nooooo.”

Despite the horrors she had so far managed, Julia’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “How am I going to catch a man with one of the girls looking like this?”

I tried not to say anything. I really did.  I did not succeed.  “Maybe you could lasso one?”

***

Su-Kar sat quietly in the finest inn she could find.  It was not great, but it was a fair shot better than the dive the idiot had chosen.  Sure, it cost quite a bit more, but she was willing to pay to sleep in a real bed for once.  Her main concern now was a more external issue.  She spoke slowly and carefully, in an effort to keep her voice cultured, “Am I to understand there are no cosmetic healers in town?”

“No,” cringed the owner. 

Su-Kar seethed.  When she’d finally gotten to a mirror, she’d seen that the damage to her face was far worse than she had initially assumed.  It was going to take some serious effort to restore her to her former beauty.  When she found that Cleric, she would peel his skin off before killing him.  Maybe, just maybe, she’d let Phillip help.  He did have a talent for brutality. Actively planning the horrors that she would inflict upon O’Really’s body was the only thing keeping her sane at the moment. 

Phillip had assumed that they would come in from the eastern trail.  Thus, he had gone to the old, ramshackle inn.  That was stupid.  They would be coming in from the northern route, assuming they had any common sense whatsoever.  The dumb local beast de jour, the Drop Bear, inhabited the entire mountain but favored the eastern trail.  The paths swept over and under each other, as they crossed ridges and other landmarks.  How the Drop Bears remained on the eastern trail was a mystery to everyone, and not one Su-Kar had any interest in solving.

***

“The trail to the south,” screamed Shart.  I continued to stare at a signpost that had been knocked over.  “Use the southern trail!”

“I think the sign pointed to the eastern trail,” I said.

“I saw that sign.  It was in pieces.  You need to get onto the southern trail.  Go south,” screamed Shart. “They are right behind you!”

I looked at the thin bridge, then back to Julia.  Gesturing to the south, I said, “I think we need to go that way!”

She joined me at the signpost.  “That way is probably just as good as any of the others.  I think it might actually even be the eastern trail.”

“What do you mean ‘might’?” I yelled, as we quickly made our way toward the bridge.

“The trails overlap this far up.  It could be any of them,” she yelled.  Then, she cast another Holy Bolt at a Drop Bear.

“That’s just great!” I yelled, slamming my bat into another Drop Bear, as it swung its way toward us.  They were like evil monkeys, swinging on the underside of the bridge.  We were well past the halfway mark.  The narrow rope bridge swung violently, as entirely too much weight was placed upon it. 

“Even if we are, I don’t think one trail is going to be much worse than any of the others,” Julia continued, blasting yet another Drop Bear.

“We are running south.  That must mean we are on the southern trail,” I commented.  I leapt off the bridge, slamming my bat into yet another Drop Bear.  In my mind, I was sure I looked like the pitcher in Bases Loaded for the old Nintendo.

“The trails use Angwin as their reference point.  There is no southern trail to the mountains,” screamed Julia.

“The northern trail then,” I groaned.  If the trail went south to the town, you would have to leave the town from the north. 

“Hopefully, we are on the right trail,” Julia shot back.  A dozen more Drop Bears swarmed the bridge.  The princess prayed for a moment, and a massive blast of wind erupted past her onto the bridge.  Several of the cursed bears fell off the bridge, landing hundreds of feet below.  The bridge shook violently, and all the ropes popped.  Moments later, the bridge followed the Drop Bears into the abyss. 

“Hey, this is the eastern trail!” I said, pointing to an intact signpost and dashing toward it.

“Whatever.  One trail is just as bad as the others,” groaned Julia.

***

It was well after noon when Phillip finally wandered over to Su-Kar’s inn.  They initially attempted to refuse him entrance, of course.  Phillip was an uncouth lout.  However, after a few tiresome minutes, he either bribed or threatened his way in.  Upon being allowed inside, he walked over to Su-Kar.  It took him less time than expected. She would have to pay the next innkeeper more to keep Phillip out. 

“Nice mask,” he chuckled.  Su-Kar considered using several techniques that she had been saving for the Cleric on the oaf. 

“It will do for now,” Su-Kar ground out. 

“I think it's safe to assume they died,” said Phillip casually. 

Su-Kar would have liked to believe that, but the princess was resourceful.  She groaned.  They were not supposed to kill the princess, but things happened.  The boss would understand if they had to kill her to prevent her from escaping with her bodyguard.  Su-Kar sighed.  Sure, the boss would understand, right before she handed them over to her torturers. 

Phillip, the dolt, had other ideas.  He believed that recovering the princess was going to be too difficult, but he was positive the boss would be forgiving.  Su-Kar tried to keep calm but being attached to so much stupidity made calmness challenging.  In a perfect world, the princess would get herself killed before Phillip did her in.  Then, it wouldn’t be their fault. 
Then again, the princess might have been smart enough to hide in a cave somewhere.  Doing so would have made her difficult to track, for someone other than Su-Kar.  Su-Kar had one significant advantage, though.  The boss had given her the key to the princess’s collar.  While that, in and of itself, was a priceless tactical advantage, it wasn’t the only one she had.  Su-Kar could also cast a spell that would locate the collar.  She just had to be willing to pay the cost.

Then again, that’s what oafs were for.

“I’ll need a gemstone,” Su-Kar said after a moment.

“I thought you had gemstones. I thought they were part of your budget,” replied Phillip snidely.

“A local stone will work faster.  Need I remind you that you are the one who lost the princess in the first place,” Su-Kar replied.  “Fetch me a gemstone.”

Phillip stiffened.  It hadn’t been entirely his fault that he’d lost the princess and the Cleric but arguing with Su-Kar was next to pointless.  He groaned, “Fine.  I’ll go get you one. You will at least pay me back?”

Su-Kar smiled under her mask.  When she cast that spell, it would be child’s play to find the collar.  It would either be around the princess’ neck or in a pile of dung somewhere. 

***

“They are going to eat us!  I count forty,” stated Julia.  She pulled herself tightly against me, her fingers blistered from where she’d tried to pull the collar off. 

“You missed about twenty,” I commented, gripping my bat tighter. 

Typically, correcting a woman earned me a fast rebuke, but Julia was too tired.  It had been hours, and the Drop Bears had been coming at us from our fronts and our backs.  The Drop Bears from deep in the outback were the worst.  You’d start to think you had only imagined them, and then a drop bear would say “G’day” and try to bite your face off.  We were in the whoop whoop now.  We were also in heaps of trouble. 

“Crikey,” I groaned, adjusting my position on the log.  “If you are going to do this, you need to do it now.”

Julia swallowed. I didn’t blame her.  We were standing on a log left behind in the flume.  Behind us was the dam and the closed sluice gate that filled it.  The dam was a massive thing that covered one entire wall of our defensive point.  It seemed to divert water to another nearby stream.  Had the dam not been there, the small outcropping we were standing on would have been a damn impressive waterfall.  As it was, the ledge was dry.  The flume plunged about twenty logs, leveling back out and ending in the lake below.  If we could have gingerly opened the sluice gate, we would have been able to gently ride the log down into the lake.  Of course, the sluice gate had swollen so much that there was no chance of just slightly opening it. 

As I swatted away another Drop Bear, Julia stood tall and began to scream, “Shaka, When the Walls Fell!”

It was the next generation of magic.  A vibration ran down the flume, its wooden structure twitching under the blast of divine energy.  Fortunately, the flume wasn’t tied to the earth deeply enough.  It had also been designed to resist the mountain’s occasional rumbling.  On the other hand, the dam was just a fancy wall, and Julia’s spell seemed intended to tear down walls.  Several leaks formed when the first wave hit the flume, spraying high-pressure water dozens of logs away. 

“This was a terrible idea,” I said, as Julia turned to me in horror.  Her mouth dropped open as the dam broke.

A massive flood of water broke forth. I reached down and grabbed our log.  As the blast hit us, the entire chunk of bark I’d held peeled off the log. 

●   Balance check successful, you have acquired ‘Bark Surfboard’

●   You have learned about Surfing. You are unskilled.  Cowabunga, Dude!

I landed on my new bark surfboard and... surfed forward, caught up in the tidal wave of muddy water blasting behind me.  As I plunged over the edge of the cliff, I used my Aerial Control perk to shift myself enough to land back on the flume.  I was just slow enough that the water beat me to it.  I spared a glance backward, only to see Julia holding onto the log for dear life.  We both slammed down the channel at speeds I would have felt were outright dangerous had I been at a mere water park. 

For one glorious, stupid instant, I thought everything was going to be okay.  Then, a Drop Bear landed on my face. 

***

Phillip clutched the gemstone in his palm hard enough that his knuckles turned white.  He tried to breathe calmly.  “That’s nice.”

“Yup,” replied the old woman that was slowly counting out his change, “The old King’s Flume goes right through the middle of Drop Bear country. That’s why we had to shut it down.  It’s been such a hardship on the town.”  She was blathering again.  Phillip wanted to kill her.  It wouldn’t be the first time Phillip had killed an old woman.  It would be the first time he REALLY enjoyed doing it, though.  His little shopping trip had taken hours longer than it should have, but she was the only precious gemstone dealer in town.  He wished he had someone with him to simply steal the stone.  Phillip silently vowed to kill the shopkeeper for boring him, before Su-Kar and he left town.

Again lamenting the boss’s choice of partners for him, Phillip forced himself to not scowl, as he collected his change and abruptly exited.  Turning to the river, he spotted the end of the massive flume.  It was dry, so he discounted it.  If it was in use, it would have emptied high above the rapids, nearly thirty logs over the waterline.  If anyone survived that, the current would take them straight into the lumber yards.  Phillip guessed the fall was to discourage riders. 

No, that log flume would surely kill any idiots riding it.  A person would have to be as crazy as a War Badger to even attempt it.  Their corpses would be plucked out of the plunge pool in the valley below, assuming the bodies could even be recovered.

***

“These things are surprisingly buoyant,” said Julia, as I again drove my bat into the base of the Drop Bear’s skull.

“Yes, if you give them the proper encouragement,” I grunted.  I had to bash the thing every thirty seconds to keep it stunned, and then Julia had to heal it.  I’d complain, but we were making excellent time since getting past the lake and onto the next part of the flume. 

When we’d gotten out of the initial waves, I’d already been riding the unconscious Drop Bear.  I’d surfed over to Julia, whose log was in the process of converting itself into multiple chunks of driftwood and collected her.  Now, we were hitting impressive Jet Ski speeds with our unfortunate boat. 

Once we got back into the flume, we’d had a major advantage.  At our current speed, the Drop Bears had been misjudging their landings. 

Another Drop Bear face planted in front of us, only to be swept back by the water.  He hit our boat hard enough to cause me to sway slightly from the impact.  My Surfing skill was up to Initiate already.  That, combined with Mobility, allowed me to weather anything we’d run into, so far.  Julia gripped my waist tighter.  She lacked my unique skill set.  My Jack of All Trades let me quickly learn new skills.  Being stuck in a continuous tidal wave for the past thirty minutes was doing wonders for my skill progression.  The other thing helping me was that some of the Athletics skills just didn’t require many Skill Points to level up.  In fact:

●   You have increased your rank in Surfing.  You are now Journeyman.  Gnarly Dude!  Please select a perk!

As I crushed the base of the Drop Bear’s skull for the umpteen time, I glanced at my Surfer perks.  They were righteous.  I was tempted to take the Surfer Lingo perk, which improved your vocabulary and granted you Surfer Speak.  It allowed you to commune with both other surfers and the waves, but that sounded like it might be grody away from the sweet curls.  Instead, I went for the more practical option and took Hallelujah Wipeout Save.  You could activate that perk to rapidly recover from a wipeout and it only had a one-minute cool down.  A person only needed to almost trip over their Drop Bear once to realize how important staying on the ‘board’ was.

“Jim, you seem to be going a bit faster,” stated Shart.  He’d been in a state of perpetual panic ever since the Drop Bears began.  I sighed. 

Of course, right at that moment, we started picking up speed.  The angle on the flume began to dip dangerously.  I’d seen that before.  “Julia, grab on tight!”

***

Su-Kar was ‘enjoying’ some of the local blends of tea.  That was to say, she was suffering through them in silence.  She’d already sampled the local wine, and, of the two, the tea was less likely to give her indigestion.  Phillip was late.  She assumed he was probably having trouble with the gem merchant.  Everyone said the elderly woman was a pain in the ass, which was the first reason Su-Kar had sent the oaf to buy it.  The other reason was that she enjoyed making him spend his money on her.

The first clue she had that something was wrong was when the kitchen staff, with no sense of decorum whatsoever, yelled into the dining room, “The King is Back!”

That gave Su-Kar pause.  The Falconian king was most assuredly not coming back.  She knew that for a fact.  She was about to ask the serving wench what the hell was going on, but the young ditz walked over to a window and looked toward the river.  Su-Kar rolled her eyes. The King was the name that Grebthar had given their log flume, back when he’d first ordered it built.  Technically, it was called the King’s Flume, or some such nonsense, but no one ever called it that in Angwin.

She stood, pushing the girl out of the way to get a better look at it.  A moment later, Su-Kar rushed out the door.

***

We had hit the water with a mighty splash.  Hallelujah Wipeout Save had activated as soon as we’d started to go under, bringing us both back to a standing position on the confused Drop Bear.  One quick skull tap later, we headed downriver, toward what appeared to be a lumber mill.

“Do you think they spotted us?” asked Julia, looking apprehensively towards the waterfall.  We were going fast enough to avoid that, fortunately.

Turning my head to look at her, I caught the first arrow.  Judging by the trajectory, it had been fired by someone standing on top of the lumber mill.  “I’m going to venture a guess.  Yes.”

Julia stared at the point of the arrow, which I had stopped inches away from her eye.  She swallowed and moved behind me.  The second arrow bounced off the water like a skipping stone, coming up at me from an unusual angle.  I snatched that one as well.

“That guy is a pretty decent shot,” I said conversationally.

“Why is this not freaking you out more?” grumbled Julia.

I snatched the third arrow out of the air and tossed it aside.  That one had been a Powerful Shot.  The shot was so powerful it had canceled some of our forward momentum.  Again, I counted my lucky stars that the Woodsman was so far away.  Arrows lost speed as they traveled in long, shallow, predictable arcs.  Had he been closer, I wasn’t sure my trick of catching arrows out of the air would have worked.  Thankfully, he didn’t know Magic Shot.  That would have really made this rough. 

“Hey, Dum Dum, guess what?  I see another problem,” said Shart.

“Kind of busy right now,” I commented, as I watched for the next arrow with my Perception skill.

“This is going to be important later,” stated Shart.

“That means it’s not important now.  Tell me later,” I stated, as the princess yelled into my ear. 

“They can’t hit us from here?” asked Julia, looking at me hopefully.

“They can’t hit me,” I said, looking down at her.  “Just stay behind me.  You’ll be fine.”

“I’m not helpless,” she pouted.  “I can do barriers.”

“Are your barriers any good against arrows?” I asked.

“Not with the collar on,” Julia growled.  I just shrugged and made sure she was behind me. 

Julia watched me snatch another arrow out of the air and tucked herself behind me even tighter.  With our current course, we were going to catch the very edge of the last lumberyard.  At that point, I figured our luck would get a bit dicey.  The archer lined up another shot and took it.  As I prepared to catch it, a lightning bolt flashed from a spot on the bank.  With my senses already preparing to catch the arrow, I wasn’t prepared at all to handle a lightning bolt.  It struck my arm, causing it to seize up.  The next instant, the arrow impacted, driving into my hand. 

I nearly lost my balance, but Julia grabbed my hand and pulled the arrow through and followed up with a muttered prayer of healing the moment it was clear.  The pain vanished as the wound sealed up.  No sooner was I healed than the Woodsman released another arrow, this time with a shorter, flatter arc.  Oh, goody, another Power Shot.  I saw another lightning bolt as it was being prepared by a masked figure.  I was just bracing for its impact when, quite suddenly, a sickly yellow barrier formed around me.  The lighting crashed against it and a few small arcs of electricity got through.  Julia slumped, leaving me just a moment to snatch another arrow out of mid-air.  Remembering that it had been a while, I smashed the back of the Drop Bear’s skull again. 

Smoke rose on several patches of my skin.  As Julia cast a healing spell on me, she said, “Sorry.  That’s the best I can do.”

The spell caster and the archer were coordinating their strikes now.  “It will have to do.”

***

Phillip tossed down a second vial of Stamina potion and prepared another Power Shot.  He had changed his mind again. He hated the Cleric now.  Also, Phillip needed to find religion, because whatever god that Cleric worshipped was worth converting to.  Phillip had fired a dozen Power Shots into him, and the Cleric had blocked each and every one of them.  The only arrow that he’d managed to score with had been a regular, conventional, non-talent enhanced shot.  It stuck in his craw that he had only caused a small amount of Damage, all because Su-Kar hadn’t bothered to tell him she was there.

That really aggravated him.  If Su-Kar had bothered to say, “Hey, I’m going to stun lock him with lighting,” Phillip could have used one of his higher Damage talents to finish the Cleric off.  Instead, he’d more or less given up and decided to just start plinking at him with arrows to see if the Cleric got tired or anything.  It was enough to drive a man to drink.  Well, drink more.

“Explain again how you appear to be unable to tag him with your spells,” grumbled Phillip.  Despite starting out a good distance away from each other, he and Su-Kar had eventually moved together.  Between shots, they discussed the situation.  Again, Phillip wondered if he could just start shooting Su-Kar, but she had already cast some sort of arrow ward on herself.  Phillip would complain, but the taste of a Resist Lightning potion, among others, was still on his lips. 

“You started engaging them too far out!  I’m at the edge of my effective range,” Su-Kar admonished.  “The princess can generate a barrier strong enough to resist the one spell I have that’s truly effective at this range.”

“Doesn’t make it truly effective then, does it?” Phillip muttered.  Raising his voice, he added, “So, this is my fault again?” 

“If you’d just waited until they were a bit closer, I could have used some actual offensive magic, instead of throwing everything into range boosts,” Su-Kar said, her remaining teeth grinding so hard it hurt her jaw.

“Just checking,” stated Phillip, firing another Power Shot at the Cleric.  “I mean, if I were the dead king, I’d have sent the most competent bodyguard I had to protect my only living offspring.”

“He’s just in Disguise, and he’s doing a bad job of it,” glowered Su-Kar.  “Look, with him blocking all those Power Shots, they’ve ended up back in the main channel of the river.  They’re going to go over the falls.”

“Well then, they’re dead. No one could survive that,” stated Phillip.

“Uh-huh, no one could have stayed on their log after falling from the flume either,” stated Su-Kar.  “One of them has a perk, you idiot.  Probably the Cleric”

Phillip’s blood went cold.  “Well, shit.”

***

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I yelled

“Oh, is it later now, Dum Dum?  Cuz you told me to tell you later,” stated Shart serenely, as we rushed toward the waterfall.

By the time I’d realized we were totally screwed, I didn’t have a way out of this.  Julia had gone pale and was grabbing at my chest hard enough that it was getting painful.  I had stood next to the Niagara Falls once, so I had an idea of the scope and power of a major waterfall.  This one was much bigger. 

Julia was screaming as the Drop Bear picked up speed.  It was just trying to swim away now, but I didn’t care.  With my Surfing skill up to Journeyman, the skill recognized the bear as my board.  The creature wasn’t able to throw us off and couldn’t swim fast enough to matter.  As we got closer to the falls, Julia’s screams grew louder.  I could clearly hear her over the deafening roar of the water.  The King’s River Falls were at their crest here, putting the Niagara Falls to shame.  As we hit the lip, I could see all the way to the Inner Sea.  Looking down, I couldn’t judge how far of a fall we were about to experience. 

“Wipeout.”

Chapter 13 – Riverfolk

My scream was more of a “Yaaaaaaa-hoo-hoo-hooey!” than an actual scream.  Julia’s scream was more of a “WeeeEEEEYEEaaaAAAH!” 

The fall was the worst part.  The path of the water ran us past several large outcroppings of rock that Julia narrowly avoided.  We both impacted into the pool below at the same time where we were bashed around and crushed.  After what seemed like hours, though couldn’t have been more than a few moments, we exploded to the surface of the water, undamaged. 

“Hallelujah,” I muttered, spitting up water as we floated downriver.  Ordinal didn’t care that I had gone over the falls. To the <system,> a wipeout was a wipeout.  The skill applied, even though I was pretty sure I’d hit some rocks on the way down.

Julia and I were in one piece.  Unfortunately, our loyal surfboard had broken in twain.  Still, it was surprisingly buoyant.  I was willing to use a piece of bear as a board, but Julia found the idea revolting.  We settled for floating down the river on our backs, past the rapids and into a calm spot well below the mountain. 

“You are totally crazy,” groaned Julia.

“How long do you think it will take them to catch up?” I asked, looking around lazily for a place to land.  Julia said nothing for a long time.

“Okay, maybe you are just moderately crazy,” she said, beginning to kick toward the shore.  I followed.  It only took a couple of minutes to reach our destination, a small landing with a beach.  As we slumped onto the shore, our trusty Drop Bear’s top half floated down the river. 

“Adios, Drop Bear,” I waved, flipping it off.

“Wow, I never figured you for the cultured type,” said Julia, who had collapsed into a wet puddle of soggy furs.  The water from the mountain was one degree above freezing, but I could tell the lowlands were much warmer in comparison.  It might have been in the low 60’s, but, compared to the arctic horror of the mountains, I would take it. 

Julia shivered and cast Resist Cold on herself.  I thought for a moment and cast Endure Elements.  No sense in being uncomfortable.  The fall had sapped most of our Stamina, so we both took a few minutes to just sit and recover.  Constantly draining your Stamina eventually led to the Exhausted condition, which made everything harder to accomplish.  You could partially recover from Exhausted by simply resting, and this well-sunned beach seemed to be a good spot.  Glancing around for threats, I didn’t see anything unnerving.  The only thing slightly weird were some statues at the edge of the sand.  I relaxed.

“You idiot,” cried Shart, “Why do you keep getting yourself into these stupid situations?”

“I enjoy annoying you,” I groaned, feeling water begin to seep out of my left ear.

“That makes sense,” stated Badgelor.  “Where are you?”

“Bottom of a waterfall,” I replied tiredly.

“Ha,” chuckled the badger.  “Well, at least you have a path.  I’m trying to figure out how to get through the Eastern Gate Fortress.  It's chock-full of trolls.  I’ve been hung up here for an hour trying to figure out how to bypass their patrols.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t try to fight your way through,” said Shart.

“Even I’m not that stupid,” growled Badgelor.  “There are a whole bunch of them, and they look angry.”

“Why don’t you use that climbing amulet to just go over the wall?” I asked.

Badgelor was silent for a long minute.  “I have an amulet of Spider Climbing.  Feck.”

“You forgot,” laughed Shart.  “Dumbass.”

“I haven’t eaten in fifteen minutes!  You can’t expect a War Badger to be at the top of his game when he’s starving, you git,” snarled the badger.

I left them to it. 

●   You have achieved Level 4, Cleric

●   You have achieved Level 5, Cleric

●   Note:  further Experience will be restricted until you select your god!

●   You have earned one stat bump

●   You have earned one perk.

●   Your Hit Points are increased by 20, Your current Hit Points are 152/198 (32-point injury)

●   Your Mana has increased by 20, Your current Mana is 90/90

●   You have learned the spell, Bless!

●   Your god will grant further spells.

I placed the buff into Charisma, as that seemed to be the largest buff to most of my Clerical spells.  I had an epiphany about perk choices, but I didn’t find any perks that would assist me in my weapons selection.  Weapons were becoming a major pain.  I didn’t see any perks that would let me use arcane spells, either.  There was no immediate benefit to assigning my perk.  I had twenty-four hours to choose, so I decided to shelve the issue for the time being.  Instead, I focused on my person. 

“I’m pretty sure my foot isn’t supposed to bend like that,” I said, attempting to wiggle my toes and failing.  My foot was at an odd angle to the rest of my leg.  Bringing up my status page, I found it.

●   Broken Ankle: You have badly broken your ankle!  You suffer a 32 point injury.  Injury will require first aid.  Hit Points reduced by 32. 

Bitterness flowed through me, as I realized what I’d typically do.  I’d have Jarra fix it.  Jarra was dead now, and I was here resting instead of killing Charles.  I had the stolen healing potion, but wounds like this just screamed out for Healing magic.  I cast my Heal Damage spell and was not disappointed.

●   You have cast Heal Damage: Base Healing: 10 Hit Points for 20 Mana.  Bonus healing: +4 Willpower, +2 Spirit, +20 Charisma.  Total Healing: 36 points. Cooldown: 1 Minute

●   Empowered Healing: You regain 4 Hit Points for spending 20 Mana on a healing spell

Recovering 40 Hit Points when I cast Heal Damage was a nice change from the 21 points I recovered only a few levels ago.  I just had to mentally command the spell to cast, rather than blather on in some inane prayer.  I sat up.  I was going to need to pick a god, and I was unsure about that.  My lifelong commitment to my core values was challenging my boiling hatred of Charles.

I tried to stand but noticed my foot was still just as badly out of place as before I started casting spells.  Grumbling, I used my limited Healing skill to set the injured bone, but I needed some wood to create a splint.  As I began crawling toward the woods, Julia loomed over me.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Trying to fix my foot,” I replied.

“Don’t you have Heal Injury?” she replied, looking at my leg.  I shook my head, and Julia rolled her eyes, saying, “I’m stuck on Heal Injury, ‘cause Heal Injury’s stuck on me!”  My foot abruptly snapped back into place.  For a moment, there was nothing but sweet relief.  Then came nausea, but I could manage that.  I checked my status sheet.  The 32 point injury and its Hit Point reduction were gone.

“Wait, so Heal Damage doesn’t heal injuries?” I asked.

Julia just looked at me, not even bothering to answer. The spell description was Heal Damage.  The spell was doing just what it was supposed to do, the same way that Heal Injury only worked on injuries, apparently. 

“Don’t healing potions also recover injuries?” I asked.  “How is their healing different?”

“Oh, that’s an intelligent question,” said Julia, sitting down next to me.  “A healing potion simply causes your internal healing to work faster.  Magical healing has magic doing the work.  You can target specific problems with magical healing that you couldn’t with potions.  If you were down 50 Hit Points and had a 30 point injury, you could use magical Healing to go after the 50 lost Hit Points.  A potion has to fix the injury first.”

“What about Overhealing?” I asked, remembering my Overhealing pool, which was currently not working.  I quickly eyeballed it and found that Badgelor needed to be closer to me for it to activate.  Given how I’d acquired the pool, I was probably expanding his and then sharing it. 

“What about it?  Just keep casting Healing spells until the Overhealing pool fills up.  If you have an Overhealing pool, you can typically recover most injuries without a Heal Injury spell.  Still, it tends to be more efficient to heal them with a Heal Injury spell.  It helps to conserve Mana.”

I thought about that.  My Overhealing pool did let me recover from injuries, but it took many points of Overheal to recover a point of injury.  That wasn’t terrible, because it allowed my standard healing factor to apply to any injury.  However, Heal Injury recovered those points of Damage straight up, rather than having a ratio. 

“Thanks,” I said.

“I would have expected a Remort to know most of this already,” said Julia, as we stood up.  She was several inches taller than I was.  Her height gave her the ability to look down her nose at me, before turning away.

She dismissed me.

“She seems smarter than I thought,” said Shart.  So, I had my choice of in-game help, a sarcastic demon or a snarky woman.  I wasn’t entirely sure that I hadn’t gone to hell when that semi hit me.

Julia stepped over to the statues, examining them.  I collapsed back into the sand and continued casting Heal Damage on myself. 

Next, I checked Adventurer, trying to figure out why it hadn’t leveled up.  The reason was immediately clear.

“How is a club not a class weapon?” I groaned to Shart.  I had never run into a situation where I couldn’t use a bladed weapon.  I had used a bludgeoning one before, just not for extended periods.  I’d initially picked adventurer for its wide weapon selection, but most of those weapons were either sharp or exciting.  A club was neither. 

“Is that a rhetorical question?” replied Shart.  “It feels like a question you should already know the answer to, Dum Dum.”

I had earned some Adventurer experience.  In fact, I was pretty close to leveling.  Checking my logs showed me that I’d earned it for non-combat things.  I’d found several exciting spots in the mountains and a bit of treasure with my talents.  I’d snuck around.  I’d killed at least one Drop Bear by ambushing the thing and kicking it off the side of the mountain.  I was close, but no cigar.  Yet. 

Sitting up, I saw that Julia had removed her furs, judiciously using the Mend spell to recombine them into something that wasn’t so sweltering.  However, the result was a mish-mashed attempt at clothing.  Mend normally allowed pieces of fur to combine naturally, assuming they were all from the same creature.  In this case, the furs had been from separate animals, so the result looked like a Frankensteinian abomination that should be burned rather than worn.  I gave her a thumbs up.

“Your nipple is showing,” I said.

She patted her chest for a moment; I gestured to her waistband.  She was going to need to get that fixed. 

“As soon as you find me a cosmetic healer, I’ll be glad to,” she growled, cinching her weird furs back up.

“Shart, what the hell is a cosmetic healer?” I asked.

“Divine magic usually heals the skin perfectly.  However, if it gets damaged while you are working on it, there can be some obvious stretching.  Some clever people use that effect to torture people.  It's good for a laugh,” stated Shart.  “Anyhow, if you want to fix the damage, you talk to a cosmetic healer. They normally practice Clerical magic and Alchemy, so they can give you a potion that starts to shrink stuff.  Then, they cast Healing magic to smooth it over.”

“So, it's not a class or anything?  I just need to know some potion recipes?” I asked.

“Sure.  Hell, there are some good ingredients for common recipes around here somewhere,” said Shart.  Suddenly, my Herbalism kicked on.  I usually left it in poison-scanning mode.  Seeing all the herbs used for every little thing tended to be distracting.  However, I discovered that out here, it was not. 

“There are almost no herbs out here,” I said, scanning around.  I mean, I saw a few, but it was nothing like Windfall.  In Windfall, you could kick a rock and find some healroot.  Here, in Falcon, I think I saw one tiny scrap of the healing herb growing at the edge of my range.  I did see some other herbs, but most of them were far less effective than good old healroot.  Sadly, I probably had more than a thousand of the damn things in my dimensional storage.  They were just so common in the other places I had been. 

Here, there was next to nothing. 

I walked over and started plucking out both plants that were highlighted in my vision.  I looked at the scrawny little things, before chewing them.  As I waited for my Herbalism to tell me what the herbs did, I turned to Julia. 

“Are there many healing herbs around?” I asked, finally spotting a third plant that Shart had highlighted.

“No more than usual,” replied Julia, walking oddly after cinching up her chest.  She looked around, obviously also having the Herbalism skill.  “This is about normal.”  She walked over to the edge of the river and pulled out a plant, passing it to me.  I started chewing without comment.

●   Waterleaf: Minor healing, restores 1 Hit Point per second, restores 1 Stamina per second for 7 seconds.  Side Effect: Nausea, 5 minutes. 

“That’s not very good compared to healroot,” I grumbled.

“Well, look at Mister Fancy Pants,” chuckled Julia, “Going to pull out his big old wad of healroot.  I mean, I guess we could spend all day looking for one.  We might even find one, if we get lucky.  Oh, wait, I know!  We can just cast healing spells!”

“What about that healing bark?” I asked, remembering the Drop Bears.  Julia gave me a deadpan look, and I further remembered the Drop Bears.  My Herbalism skill chimed in to remind me that heal bark tended to grow near Drop Bear nests.  My Herbalism did not specify if the Drop Bears chose their nests because of the heal bark or if the heal bark grew because of the Drop bears.  In either case, the beasts would make harvesting it problematic. 

“Heal bark causes temporary blindness in humans,” stated Julia.  Sheesh, that was another herb with negative secondary characteristics. 

Still, there had to be more herbs around.  I just needed to look harder.  I began meandering around until I found what I was looking for.  I pulled up a large, shiny green root.

●   AeloCumber: A tasty herb with pain-relieving properties.  Known uses: Will tighten the skin if applied correctly.  If misused, it will cause constipation. 

“What are you up to?” asked Julia curiously, as I found the second ingredient. 

●   BotoxTater: A mild poison that is a natural booster for the effects of certain healing herbs, such as AeloCumber or healing bark. 

Finally, I needed some sort of healing herb, like the Waterleaf I’d just eaten.  We wandered back to the stream.

“Making a quick potion,” I said, going past the statues to find some Waterleaf.  “Hey, I need to pick a god.  Any suggestions?”

“I’d say Grebthar.  He’s the default choice, but you seem to be some sort of traditionalist,” she replied, thinking for a minute.  “I don’t know, maybe Rogers?”

“You have a god named Rogers?” I chuckled, sloshing into the river.  I took a moment to confirm with Shart that there was nothing dangerous in the river.  He informed me that there was nothing hazardous to me, as long as I was quick and paid attention.  He also felt the need to add a quick, somewhat hurtful comment regarding my attention span, but I ignored him and hurried.

“Fine, probably not the best idea to make fun of a god, though.  Maybe try Tony,” she continued.  “He’s the god of wisecracks.  I think you two would get along.”

“Har har,” I said, pulling out an immature Waterleaf.  I ate it; it wasn’t suitable for the potion.  “After I pick a god, how do I pledge to them?”

“Just go to their statue,” she said.

“Where are the nearest ones?” I asked.

“You are kidding, right?” she asked with a laugh, gesturing to the statues nearby.

“That close?” I asked.  How fortuitous.  As I turned, I heard a splash downstream.  The paying attention portion of Shart’s warning just got a lot more necessary.

“This is Falcon,” said the princess haughtily.  “We take two things seriously here, our religion and our dynastic struggles.  By the way, I think a Hydra is coming to get you.”

“Damn it.”  I stepped out of the water to look at the statues. 

“Looks like the gods have assembled,” I said, reviewing all the statues.  “If a god fights with a weapon, his clerics can use it, too, right?”

“Of course,” stated Julia, stepping well away from the water.  A long-necked creature resembling a three-headed python swam toward the shore, stopping to stare at us about a foot from the bank.  It wasn’t at such a high level that I was worried, but I also didn’t have any reason to piss it off at the moment.

Searching, I found the god I wanted.  His statue wore a sword sheath, and I could just make out the handle of his weapon.  “Who is this?”

“You mean Logan?” asked Julia, shaking her head.  “He does fight with a sword, but no one worships the Badgerine anymore.”

Sounds good to me.  Real gods would have been an issue.  Fake gods I could manage. “Alright, Bub, lay it on me!”

●   Specialization gained:  Cleric of Logan, the Bagerine.

●   You gain +1 Willpower and +1 Charisma

●   Your Hit Point total is increased by 10.  Your Mana is increased by 20.

●   You have gained the Domains of Regeneration and Divination

●   You have gained the ability to fight with a sword. You are already beyond Initiate rank. 

●   Your skill in: Religion is increased to Novice

●   Your skill in: Survival increases to Initiate

●   You have learned the spell: Renew!

●   You have learned the spell: Heightened Senses!

●   You have multiple skills over your Class Starting Rank.  Class Skill Points have been coveted into Talent Points for Domain spells.  You have unlocked 2 Talent Points. 

That was awesome!  Domains were the talents for the Clerical class.  Each Domain had an expanding tree of options that started with Renew and Heightened Senses.  I could see that I would be able to increase the current spells' rank and purchase new spells with Talent Points.  Additionally, now I could fight with a real weapon.  That was lucky; I’d lost Mr. Bat over the falls.  I didn’t have a sword at the moment, but that shouldn’t be much of an issue.

●   <System> Error Corrected.  You can use swords.  Duelist Class unlocked.

●   Your stats increase: +2 Strength, +2 Dexterity, +1 Endurance

●   Hit points increase by 160 Hit Points.  Max Hit Points is now 400

●   Stamina increased by 160 Stamina.  Max Stamina is now 380

●   All Duelist perks unlocked

●   All Duelist talents unlocked

I regained my power!  Then, I threw up and fell face-first into the dirt.  Pain washed over me.  Julia took a step toward me but stopped.  I forced myself back to my feet.  While my maximum possible Hit Points had increased, I had not gained any new Hit Points from leveling up.  From the perspective of the <system>, I had just taken a massive wound and lost many Hit Points.  Even with all that ‘Damage,’ I wasn’t even below the halfway mark. 

“Oh, that explains it!  Your Duelist class required a sword.  Because you couldn’t use a sword, you couldn’t be a Duelist.  That’s fixed forthwith!” exclaimed Shart.  I could tell the little butt-face was smiling.

“What about Mage Knight?” I hissed.

“Hmmm, you still don’t have it.  If I had to guess, it’s probably because your Mana network doesn’t currently have any magical cores in it,” stated Shart.

“How do I fix that?  Is there a perk?” I asked.

“No perk, but let me check on that,” replied the demon.  Without menu time, these conversations took too long.  It was incredibly awkward if I had witnesses, like, for example, Julia.  However, I could talk while looking at my character sheet.

●   Jim, Cleric 5

●   Adventurer 14

●   Duelist 14

●   HP: 243/410

●   Mana: 100/100

●   Stamina: 245/365 (You have the Winded Condition for the next 9 minutes)

●   Strength: +2

●   Dexterity: +5

●   Endurance: +3

●   Spirit: +1

●   Willpower: +3

●   Charisma: +3

I stood back up with enough force to hop slightly because my strength was now much higher. As I stood, I was noticeably taller than I was before.  Julia frowned, but the social convention on Ordinal was to ignore sudden level related changes to one’s body.  She had gone from being taller than me to a full head shorter in a few seconds. 

“Much better,” I said. 

“Normally, adopting your god doesn’t do quite that much,” she said, looking down at the expanding pool of vomit and then up at me.  I wiped my mouth.

“Must have been something I ate,” I said, reaching for my stolen healing potion before I stopped myself and started to cast Heal Damage, but stopped again.  I had a new Spell.  I cast Renew.

●   Renew: Heals 1 HP per tick for 20 ticks, out of combat.  Cost: 30 Mana, Self.  Base healing increased by + 4 Endurance and + 6 Charisma (doubled due to perk).

Renew was uncomfortable.  Everything felt itchy, but, as I was healing even faster than with Demonic Regeneration, I was satisfied.  I doubted Renew would be compatible with my Shart-given healing, but Renew healed me for just over 200 Hit Points in less than 2 minutes.  There wasn’t even a cooldown; a second casting just reset the timer on the first one.  Excess time was lost.  My Empowered Healing did grant me an additional 6 Hit Points every time I cast it, but, compared to Renew’s primary effect, that was nothing.  After a lifetime of healing potions, this was so much better. 

Staring at the healing potion in my hand for a second, I swore inwardly.  I unstoppered it and pulled out my ingredients.  I mashed the herbs into the bottle and shook it vigorously.  That wouldn’t have worked for most people, but my Crafting skill applied to Alchemy.  Considering the BotoxTater was a poison, my Poisoner Perk was also activated.  Through their combined powers, I was able to make a low-quality oil de skin shrinkage.

“What are you doing?” asked Julia, as I finished shaking the vial and handed it to her.

“Cosmetic healing,” I replied.  She looked at the oil questioningly.  Then, she smiled as she sniffed the concoction.  Her Alchemy skill fired off, so she could read the oil’s description.

Her outfit flew off more quickly than if it had caught fire.  She dumped the bottle into her hands and began rubbing the concoction over her chest.  Once she realized what she was doing, she turned away, still rubbing vigorously.  Her mangled mammary shrunk back from its vastly elongated tube sock form into something more familiar. Then, she screamed.  It did not sound like a scream of gratitude. 

“This isn’t any better!” she shrieked, turning around.  Her formerly droopy hooter was normal now.  The other one, however, had squashed flat into her chest as the skin around it tightened massively.

“Why did you rub the potion on both?” I yelled.  “Quick, wash it off the normal one!”

She stumbled over to the water.  “They are both good, I’ll have you know.  I just had so much oil; I had to put it somewhere,” she replied, trying to keep the ointment on half of her chest while she rubbed it off the other half. 

“Let me help,” I said, stepping forward to assist with the rubbing off.

She slapped my hand away.  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?  Anyway, this is all your fault!”

“I didn’t know casting a Healing spell during active Damage would cause that,” I muttered, as she used one hand to water seal one of the girls and the other hand to rinse the other one.  I decided I needed to reassure her slightly, as her washing became more frantic.  “You know, most women’s breasts aren’t symmetrical.  It’s normal to have one that is slightly smaller than the other.”

“NOT LIKE THIS!” the princess screamed.  I thought I heard Shart laughing in my head.  I considered adding that boobs don’t make a woman but wisely decided to keep that to myself.  While true, it wasn’t what Julia wanted to hear at the moment.  Thankfully, the oil was magical.  As she washed the oily substance off, the effect immediately stopped.  The affected sweater monkey returned to its former glory, while the wounded one stayed healed. 

Finally satisfied, she turned to face me.  Her lower body was submerged, her healed upper torso fully exposed.  “Are they even?”

“They look even,” I said.  Julia was, in fact, a beautiful woman.  It helped that both her boobs now pointed in the same direction.  Or at least one doesn’t threaten to trip her when she runs. 

“I need a better answer than that. Get over and put your hands on them, Cleric,” she ordered.  I plopped into the water and walked over to her. 

“What do you mean by that?” I asked. 

In answer, she grabbed my hands and forced them onto her cans.  “I can’t trust the girls to a self-cast Healing spell, I need someone to cast it for me and you are the only one available.  I need you to cast Heal Damage on the girls and hold them until the spell completes,” she said, giving me the sternest look I’d seen on Ordinal.  I was aware of the strategy, at least.  She’s worse than AvaSophia.

My hands were where the magic came out.  They would heal both of her chesticles simultaneously.  That magical healing would overpower the oil, which was also magical, and leave her with a rotated, balanced set.  The process was quick.  However, to make sure the plastic effect didn’t cause further problems, I would have to leave my hands in place the entire time. 

Suddenly, I felt something glorious.  As the Healing magic continued to flow through my hands, I was getting some sort of feedback from the spell.  I’d cast healing spells on myself before, but none of them ever felt this way.  Using Arcane Lore, I gathered that feedback only happened when you cast a healing spell while making continuous contact with the target.  Through that feedback, I was able to modulate my magic and ensure the cosmetic healing took. 

I tried to look into Julia’s eyes as I cast the spell but flinched away.  The angry look she was giving me was unnerving.  Instead, I looked behind her.  It was a good thing I did; that’s where I saw the Hydra swimming over for its snack.  Using Julia’s jugs as leverage, I pivoted her away, just as the Hydra attempted to chomp on her.  The creature bit my arm instead.  Activating Mitigate and using my newly increased strength, I remained unmoving, as the Hydra continued to gnaw into my arm.  With the combination of my defensive perks and sheer stubbornness, I was able to stand motionless as the spell finished.  A tiny pinprick of blood fell from my arm dripping into the water.

“I believe you have recovered.  Please, get out of the water,” I said.  As the creature tried to pull away from me to go after the easier prey, I grabbed it by the mouth.  Julia scampered back, dripping wet.  The beast attempted to force its way past me, but even with all three mouths engaged it just couldn’t do very much.

It all boiled down to levels.  The creature was a level 14 monster.  It did mostly regular Damage, with a fair bit of both Slashing and Piercing thrown into the mix.  My Resistance perk granted me a base Defense of 33, and my Duelist Damage Resistance perks converted most of the Slashing and Piercing Damage down into normal Damage.  That let my Defense soak up a vast percentage of it, without much actual Damage to me.  What little Slashing and Piercing got through, I was able to Mitigate away. 

In short, a level 14 monster couldn’t do enough Damage to really hurt me.

Of course, there was a problem.  Yelling, “I shall smite thee,” I started punching the creature in the eyes.  The Hydra did have some defenses, and my naked forearm wasn’t entirely up to the task of beating it to death, even with my magical assistance.  The commotion was also summoning several more Hydras. 

“If I tear this Hydra’s head off, is another one going to grow in its place?” I asked.

“Yes,” replied Julia, who was putting her shirt back on.  Nice to see her priorities are in order.  “I mean, at least until he runs out of Hit Points.”

Ah, Hit Points, the great equalizer. 

As I continued to beat the creature to death, the middle head suddenly seemed to expand.  Before I had a chance to react, it fountained out a mixture of acid and mucus.  Even that wasn’t enough to bypass my Dragon Scales perk.  However, it did serve to dissolve the tattered remnants of my furs. 

“I don’t have a weapon.  Can you blast this thing?” I asked politely.

“Um, sure,” stated Julia, holding her arms up and blasting a bolt of Holy magic into the creature’s chest.  As it squirmed in my arms, Julia cast the spell twice more.  The third blast finally killed the beast.  I dropped it into the water and stepped out, my own tattered furs drooping in strange places.  I stepped next to Julia.  She blushed and looked away.

“I know it's impolite, but good level up,” she said, then turned and walked away from me. 

Looking down at my body, I realized that my stat buffs had started to change my appearance, just as they had before.  Mental stats didn’t seem to alter one’s appearance much, but the physical stats manifested quickly.  Higher Dexterity made you quicker, more sure of yourself, and a bit leaner.  Endurance made you stockier, tougher, and healthier looking.  Strength made you taller and more muscular.  When I’d first respawned, I was a skinny kid.  Now, I was looking quite buff.  With my high Charisma stat, I was rather pleasing to the eyes. 

Julia returned, handing me a loincloth she’d crafted from the scraps of her furs.  Neither of us looked too impressive, but it would have to do until we got to the next town.  Even wearing rags, I had Rule One going for me.  Be attractive.  Good looking people could pull off anything.

“To the Vineyards!”

Chapter 14 – Small Town Living

The night passed uneventfully.  I awoke the next morning, mostly rested, to the sounds of Holy magic as Julia recited a litany of prayers.  We’d slept in the wilderness again.  With all my perks and abilities, I could stand sleeping in the bushes with no supplies.  It sucked, but I was not complaining.

“You aren’t?” Shart asked in my head.  “It sure sounds like you are whining like a newborn baby.” 

I ignored him, choosing to focus on my junk instead.  My loincloth was becoming uncomfortable.  I didn’t understand how tribal people had managed to wear just a loincloth, especially around attractive women, for centuries.  I supposed the bug bites helped keep one’s libido in check.  Mind you, walking around with the boys flapping in the breeze could be kind of relaxing.  Running was a different issue entirely. 

As we traveled through the barren mountain country, avoiding adventurers that were sent to kill the princess, I kept coming back to the same point.  Having a target painted on my back was making my life complicated.  I had puzzled over my problem for a long time last night but had come no closer to figuring out how to summon Shart without Julia’s help.  That meant I had to carry this albatross with me until he was summoned, at least. 

Speaking of, Julia had risen, gone to the river, and cleaned herself.  While there, a Hydra attempted to attack her.  The attack led to Julia blasting the creature into chunks.  Shortly after, Julia dragged one of those chunks back to our makeshift camp, where she was attempting to make breakfast.  I was sure this little hobby of hers wasn’t going to last, but, for now, she was still enamored with cooking. 

“Here, try this,” ordered Julia, as she dropped a handful of crushed waterleaf onto the Hydra steak she had prepared.  I smiled and ate the offered breakfast.  It was a far sight better than the venison we had eaten the previous day.  Julia had probably moved out of the untrained portion of the skill to Novice. 

The quickness of any adventurer in skill level gains was something that needed to be seen to be believed.  Julia wasn’t a gourmet chef yet.  However, if she kept cooking for several weeks, she would be.  Some skills still required a massive number of Skill Points to advance, but mundane skills were, for the most part, cheap and easy to level. 

“What are our plans for today?” I asked.  I was mainly joking.  After breakfast, we were going to have to haul ass to gain some extra distance on our pursuers.  I still wasn’t sure of the best way to accomplish that, and Julia knew the local area better than I did. 

“There is a decent-sized, free town south of here,” stated Julia. 

“Free town?” I asked.

“They pay their noble so their town council can run the town independently,” stated Julia.  That was fairly common in feudal politics.  A small, prosperous town would pay in gold rather than offer up people to serve their lord.  Oftentimes, the lord could get the people and other resources elsewhere, but he needed the gold the free town provided. 

“You can make it after lunch if you hurry, Dum Dum,” said Shart.  I groaned.  Another day of hiking. 

We started marching downstream immediately after breakfast.  The river was all rocks and rapids, making it difficult for anyone to come this way by water.  The actual road from Angwin went west, away from us.  It ended in a different town, a town many leagues away.  Going cross country should make us harder to track. 

Just in case, I had left a few traps to discourage the adventurers, should they decide to come our way.  Of course, that would reveal our position.  I discovered Julia wasn’t capable of hiding her tracks unless we found some banks of snow for her to blast about.  Unfortunately, while the local terrain was cool, the environment was more late fall than the heart of winter.  We did our best for the first few miles, before deciding that speed would be more of an ally than an ineffective effort to hide our tracks. 

The real trick with the towns was that there was a civil war, or, as Julia insisted, a dynastic struggle, going on.  Most of the towns pledged to Julia’s aunt, the duchess, or her uncle, the duke.  There was very likely a reward on her head.  If she just walked into any population center, someone would report her.

“Won’t they try to capture you?” I asked.

“I’m an adventurer.  I’d love to see them try,” she said dismissively.  Falcon used the older Grebtharian style of adventurers and professionals.  That eliminated the more blatant classist terms, like Chosen and commoners.  Still, if you said “adventurer” with enough sauce, it came out the same way as proclaiming yourself as Chosen. 

Fortunately, the town was isolated.  It also seemed unimportant enough to remain uninvolved in the civil war.  Hopefully, it would still be large enough to have what we needed.  We passed by several small thorps on the way, but those were just small collections of huts.

When I’d called the first hut community a village, Julia had been quick to correct me.

“Those are thorps,” she said, as we looked at the small grouping.  “We might pass a hamlet on the way, as well, before we get to the village.”

“I thought a village was the smallest size town,” I said. 

“Oh, no.  Dum Dum is thinking again,” Shart moaned in my head.

Julia rolled her eyes.  “I guess if you are living out in the sticks, maybe.  A village anchors a province, but, in a developed area, the rulers are likely to have a few extra licenses they can’t use.  Those are typically used to make thorpes.”

“I thought licenses were kind of rare,” I said.

“He never learns,” muttered the demon.

“Maybe in a younger kingdom,” scoffed Julia.  “Among other factors, castles generate licenses based on age.  The local castle has stood for centuries.  Each local province gets a new license every so often; many of them are underdeveloped, like this one.  The local lord will just use the license to create a thorp and hope it grows into a hamlet.”

“But these thorps didn’t grow into hamlets,” I said.

Julia frowned.  “This place is on the edge of the great valley.  The regions to the east and west are very developed.  Out here, there just isn’t anything to draw people in.  Fishing is poor, farming is not commercial grade, and there is insufficient mineral wealth.  I suppose someone could make a go of it, but it would require a substantial investment that no one is willing to make.”

I was from Ohio, so I knew about land like that.  Some hardy souls would always find such places enjoyable, but, from what I’d seen, I doubted that would occur here.  This region was in abject poverty, and the people looked miserable.  We’d circled a farming hamlet, at my insistence, and I’d been horrified.  The hamlet was a collection of weak huts not suitable for dealing with a cold winter, let alone the frigid ones Julia assured me were common. 

“They live better here than they would in HarCharles’ kingdom,” she said directly.  “What did you expect, a magical village where everyone had their own homes and barns?  We aren’t in Grebthar’s land.  This is the real world.”  Julia said that with some conviction, as if daring me to challenge her. 

I didn’t say anything else on the matter.  I decided to use Remote Administration to check in with Mar.  I wanted to make sure Windfall’s farmers all had decent housing and barns.  It turned out that I didn’t need to.

“I already did that,” said Mar.  “Blots thought it was a waste of resources, but I knew you’d want to make sure your people were protected.”

I thought about that.  I was devoting resources to people who were farming in generally mild climates.  The town really needed to concentrate on more important matters, like killing Charles.  I put oversupplied farmers out of my mind, for now.  The current farmers could have their luxuries, but I’d have to cut back in the future.

Was O’Really even suited to be mayor?  Having a base of operations was useful, but being mayor meant concerning myself with a bunch of little problems that didn’t do anything for my primary quest: Killing Charles.  I might have to resign as the mayor of Windfall and do all that leveling up Shart wanted me to.

“Yes,” hissed Shart, “Give in to your dark side.  Use your anger, fear, and aggression.”

“Dude, that’s kind of evil,” I replied.

“I’m just telling you what you are already thinking about doing, O’Really,” replied Shart.  “I’m being supportive.”

I didn’t say anything to that.  The little shit couldn’t lie. 

“Boat,” Julia smiled.  It was a small fishing boat, the sort of thing that only fit one or two people.  I searched the shoreline and spotted a few shapes that could only be buildings through the trees. 

“Well, what’s the plan?” I asked.  “You wouldn’t let me steal any clothes.”  My secondary reason for circling that hamlet had been to steal clothes.  I would have gotten away with it, too, except for the pesky princess. 

“Well, I’m sure there is a temple in town.  I’ll perform temple duties for a few silver.  You can do whatever it is you do, and we’ll meet up after the second bell to figure out a strategy.”

“Make a bit of money and see how it goes?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Aren’t there any monsters to kill out here?” I asked, looking around. 

“Nope,” said Shart, “This area is pretty much tamed.”

“In the heartlands of Falcon?  Hardly,” harrumphed Julia.

“We are in rags,” I said.

“I am a Zealot, so I can get in anyway.  I’ll just tell them it's part of my Cause,” stated Julia. 

“I thought you hated temples,” I said.

“I do, but I like sleeping in beds more than I hate temples.  I’m willing to compromise,” she said. 

“Are you really going to walk around town in that,” I gestured.  Julia’s current outfit was mostly made of fur scraps and left nothing to the imagination.  It was typically the high point of walking with her, given how boring the local area was.  Of course, my own attire wasn’t much better.

“I’ve got nothing to worry about,” she grinned lasciviously.  “Besides, I’m sure they will give me clothes.”

“What about me?” I asked.

“I don’t think there is a temple to Logan there,” she replied with a small smile.  “You are screwed.  I’ll see if I can find you something, though.  We can split whatever we make and get more supplies.”

“That’s very generous of you,” I said.

“Well, I am a princess.  I know how to act in a town.  I’m just hoping I don’t have to bail you out of jail,” she said with a shrug. 

We continued on in companionable silence.  We passed some very non-noteworthy trees and some very forgettable bushes.  We were within a couple miles of the town when we passed another hamlet.  “I’ll meet you in the town. I’m going to see if they have any work.”  I lied, gesturing toward the hamlet.  Julia frowned at me. 

“No stealing,” she said before marching toward the town, her dignity and pride intact.

“I say we steal everything,” stated Shart.

“Do you think they have anything worth stealing?” I replied.

“First off, loving the new you,” smiled Shart.  “Second off, no.  The most valuable thing they have is a large pile of garbage.”

The hamlet didn’t even merit having a name.  It was basically where the serfs lived to tend their farms.  My Administration skill kicked off, flagging the poorly laid out farms and low efficiency of the area.  It wasn’t my problem, though, so I snuck into what was intended to be the front gate.  Compared to the dungeon, or even the goblins, sneaking into a small hamlet full of unmotivated serfs was trivial work. 

“So, you going to steal clothes?” asked Shart, as I crept through the heart of the hamlet.  I figured if I could get past the main fortification, everything else would be easy.  They had a wooden stockade up, but no guards. 

“No, I have a simpler idea,” I stated.  Getting in between the huts, I found several people doing their washing.  I was surprised to see that the washers were almost exclusively women.  In Windfall, most tasks I commonly associated with gender were pretty fluid.  There was no strength difference between men and women on Ordinal.  Men tended to be taller, which did grant a slight boost in effective Strength, but it was an accepted fact that men and women were equal in terms of physicality.  If a six-foot-tall man and a six foot, two inches tall woman with identical Strength stats got into a tug of war, the taller person would win, due to leverage. 

However, washing wasn’t why I was here.  After a quick search, I found what I wanted.  Shart had, of course, been telling the truth.  The hamlet’s most significant treasure was its trash heap.  Even the garbage pile was disappointing, as far as piles of garbage went.  It was nothing like Windfall’s.  Windfall’s garbage was top notch, grade A refuse.  Still, there was enough stuff that I could make use of my Salvage skill. 

Armed with my knife and a slightly improved hiding spot, I got to work.  Within twenty minutes, I had crafted a few items.  Now, I was ready for the next stage of my plan.

“Hey, neighbor,” I called from my hiding spot behind a very pregnant young woman’s house.  I had Wilson’ed myself, hiding all but the top of my head from her vision.  She found me quickly enough, and her eyes narrowed.

“You aren’t any neighbor of mine,” she said, stepping toward her door.  I could tell she had not entirely made up her mind about what she was going to do.

“I need clothes, and I’m willing to trade this for them,” I said, putting a train on her wobbly fence.  She looked like she was about to scream when I mentioned clothes, but the toy diverted her attention.  She stared at the train in wonder.  It was just like the ones I’d made for Badger’s Night, the ones that HankAlvin assured me were worth several gold coins. 

“What clothes?” she asked, eyeing her own outfit suspiciously.

“No, your husband’s clothes.  Just a shirt and some pants,” I said. 

She stared at the train.  “That’s his good set.  He’d be furious at me for giving it away for a toy.”

“You can sell the toy,” I said.  The expectant mother deflated slightly.  Some part of her had wanted to give the toy to her new child, I was sure.  Well, she was in luck, because I didn’t have time to waste on this.  I pulled out a second train. 

“This is my last one,” I said.  “I’ll give you both toys for a shirt and pants.  You can sell one and keep the other.”

I left the village after getting dressed.  The clothes were acceptable, especially considering that I wasn’t wandering around with my junk flapping under a loincloth anymore. That young woman had lucked out.  She was going to make several gold coins on our deal, and I doubted these clothes would have cost me more than a few silver. 

Reaching the village was a breeze.  I encountered no enemies and no excitement whatsoever. 

“So, this is what we are wasting our time on right now,” stated Shart, as I walked on my merry little way.

“I’m not brimming with options here.  If there were monsters, I would fight them.  As it sits, I need gold,” I said.  “I don’t suppose you can just pull some out of your rosy, red rump?”

“Fine, but seriously, this is pointless.  You need to be training your skills,” argued the demon.  I opened my mouth to say something, but he viciously cut me off.  “Not toy making!”

“It's a noble profession,” I said, offended.

“I hate it when you do this crap,” replied the demon. 

Walking past the temple in town, I spotted Julia on her knees in a frumpy dress.  It looked like she was washing the floor.  Princess or not, she was willing to work when it was required.  I couldn’t do any less.  Besides, I was hungry. 

My Administration skill allowed me to find the Town Hall quickly enough.  I promptly got a job sweeping up garbage that paid a few copper.  In less than two hours, I’d earned enough copper to buy a market license for selling small, handcrafted items in the town marketplace.

“And what is this?” asked the tallish man who was carefully examining my wares.

“It's called a train.  It’s the last one I have,” I said piteously.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he replied.  “I’ll pay you fifty silver for it.”

“I need to sell it for two gold to feed my starving family,” I replied.

He considered that for a moment, then shrugged.  “I’ll give you one gold, nothing more.”

●   Merchant skill check, successful: You have found his highest price.

“Well, okay,” I said sadly.  The man grinned before snatching it up.  I pocketed the gold as he wandered away, whistling about his great deal.  I sighed as he rounded the corner, reached into my pocket, pulled out another train, and sat it on my small table.

“One of a kind item, last one I have!” I barked. 

***

Julia groaned, rubbing her knees as the town bell started to peel.  Despite several healing spells, her legs still felt abused.  “Those jerks didn’t even give me proper supplies,” she grumped, but she had earned twenty silver.  Her healing skills were not of much use in a temple of Grebthar, which was full of healers.  Instead, the elders had her scrub floors.  Once she had finished, they promptly took twelve of her twenty silver right back, to pay for the frumpy clothes she did not even want.  Julia tried to ask for her old furs back, but they had been burned.  She was left with nothing but sore knees, ugly clothes, and eight silver.  The cheapest inn in town cost thirty silver a night.

This never happened in the stories, the heroine always got just what she needed from the church before continuing her adventure.  Julia sighed.  She hadn’t really expected that to happen, but she hoped that maybe she would get a pleasant surprise for once. 

Maybe Not O’Really would surprise her, though.  Not was obviously a fake name.  Using a phony name wasn’t a bad idea when people like those adventurers were chasing you.  Julia had gone by Angela in the temple.  It was perhaps not the most creative, but Angela was such a common name that she should be able to pass without notice.  Her Disguise skill was just high enough for her to get away with it.  Hopefully. 

Since she didn’t have even close to enough coin to get a room, Julia bought two meat pies from a vendor at the front of the temple.  She was starving after all that work.  If she was being honest, she was also anxious to eat something not prepared with her mediocre Cooking skills.  Careful of her sore legs, she gingerly set on the steps to wait for her traveling companion and admired the sights.  An attractive man smiled broadly at her and started walking over. 

***

I wandered right up to Julia before she recognized me.  I was wearing new traveling clothes and smelled of cigar smoke. 

“Oh, is that pie for me?” I asked, grabbing the second meat pie out of her startled hand and chowing down on it. 

“I have five silver,” Julia said dumbly.

“Good, we both made some money then,” I replied 

Julia sighed and looked around.  Lowering her voice, she asked, “Did you steal?”

“Perish the thought,” I ribbed, looking mildly affronted.  “I just crafted a few high-value items.”

Julia adopted a look my wife had whenever she knew I’d done something improper but lacked sufficient evidence to call me on it.  I gave Julia a look like butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth as she ran through her options.  Finally, she frowned, unable to determine what I’d done wrong but keenly knowing I was guilty of something. 

She would eventually figure it out, and until then I would be in trouble. 

“I’ll try to get the silver broken into copper,” Julia began. 

“No worries, here is your half,” I stated, discreetly dropping five gold coins into her palm.

Julia tried not to stare at the coin and failed.  She was smart enough to know the problem instantly.  This poor town was not big enough to allow a stranger earning five gold to escape notice.  Never mind the fact that I’d only given her about half the money I earned. 

“I had some silver too, but I used it to get us a room in the inn by the pier.  We can leave town tomorrow morning, as soon as my new gear is ready.  If you hurry, you might be able to get some supplies as well,” I said.

The Inn was a quick jaunt away.  The town was a large village, according to my Administration skill, and was not built on the same scale as Windfall.  I was rapidly recognizing that Windfall would be a mid-sized City if we actually had the population for it. 

She had gotten considerably less chatty as we walked over to the inn.  When she saw the guards, and the security precautions she finally broke down.

“How did you earn so much gold?” she asked. 

“I can be quite crafty when I need to be,” I replied, handing her the oddly shaped tile that served as the key to our room. 

I shrugged and left her in the common room.  Her fists were clamped at her side and she was quite obviously counting to herself as I walked to the cigar lounge and dropped 10 silver on a particularly good smelling one.  I could tell she wanted to scream at me if the money was stolen, but I’d already told her it wasn’t.  Waving at her, I left the inn and started to wander. 

Chuckling to myself, I puffed gently on my cigar as I strolled down the pier by the inn.  I took a short moment to look at all the fishing boats.  The sun was down now, and, while I wasn’t concerned about thugs, I’d prefer any mischief happen here than in my supposedly secure room at the inn. 

I had earned ten gold, but I made it very obvious that I spent most of it locally.  I was hoping the area’s cutthroats would get the hint, but I hadn’t been confident of that at the inn and I was less confident now.  I really wanted to get a decent night’s sleep on a bed, so I was going to have to resolve that problem. 

I spent most of my money at the local Blacksmith.  His shop was just off the pier, presumably to reduce the risk of fires.  While he was not a specialized sword smith, he knew his craft and had offered to make me a perfectly serviceable sword.  I would have preferred to have HankAlvin do it, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.  What had sealed the deal was that he promised it would be ready first thing tomorrow morning. 

Cutting through the only alley I could find, I activated Stealth and waited.  A man cautiously stepped past me, searching very carefully as he did.  I tossed a rock at the far wall, causing the thug to turn and face it.  When he did, I slammed my other stone on the back of his skull, knocking him out cold. 

“Seriously,” I grumbled to Shart, “That’s the third one. You’d figure they would get the hint.”  I glanced at the man for a second before turning away.  He was at least bigger than the other ones had been.  He also had a skill that blocked his identity from displaying.  I wanted to investigate that, but the local reeve was walking toward me.  The thug had not gone down silently, and I wasn’t sure that the local thieves’ guild wasn’t bribing the reeve. 

Grumbling, I left the alley.  I decided to head back to the inn, confident that I’d finally shaken all my pursuers. 

“We are positive that no one else is looking for us, right?” I asked Shart, as I briskly walked toward our lodging.

“Sure,” replied the demon.  He did not sound nearly as confident as I would have liked. 

“You can’t figure out if someone is following us?” I asked.

“There are over four hundred meat bags in that village.  I don’t have time to even glance at the log before the entire thing is updated.  My best guess is probably not,” stated Shart. 

Shart in Limbo was next to useless right now, as far as I was concerned.  He had different access to the <system> in Limbo, not better access.  His different access was fecking useless if we were in a town.  The <system> just threw so much data at him that it was impossible to filter it down to a practical level.  If we were in the woods, he could have found nearby adventurers.  In town, he was forced to make massive guesses.  I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with that. 

The Oak and Boar was large and impressive, as far as inns in this town went.  Now that Julia wasn’t giving me the side eye, I took a moment to appreciate the structure.  The inn was three stories tall and mostly built from local wood.  The place was clean, and the kitchen smelled good.  It cost seventy silver a night, if you knew how to ask, and my Merchant skill had been up to the task.  I’d only gotten one room, but that room was what an American would call a suite.  It had a smaller, attached sitting room and a couch. 

I was going to have to sleep on that couch.  Hopefully, it was somewhat comfortable. 

The other reason I had chosen the place were the two burly men standing guard at the door.  They both eyed me, until I held up the small tile I had been told not to lose.  Without it, I wouldn’t be allowed in after dark.  One guard still stood rigid, but the other gave a barely perceptible nod.  I walked in. 

Strolling past the kitchen, I picked up another parcel of food for a late-night snack.  I also took a moment to warm my hands at the massive fire pit in the middle of the room.  From there, I walked up the stairs to the balcony over the common room.  The structure had a gigantic common room in the middle, with all three floors’ rooms for rent circling it.  If the place had been less classy, the echoing sounds from the rooms would have been overwhelming.  As it was, the common room had multiple people sitting around reading or murmuring to each other.  As I got to the stairwell to the second floor, the sound died out significantly.  I used my Arcane Lore skill and figured out that some sort of sound warding spell dampened the noise.

I noted the tiles’ runes absently, feeling both of them filter into my available rune list for future reference.  That would be handy.  I was certain Julia would complain about how I paid for the accommodations again.  I could explain to her about the magical wards designed to keep her safe overnight. 

Sighing, I continued to the room.  I still wasn’t sure if Julia was honestly upset that I’d picked the inn without asking her, or if Julia was just confused about how I earned so much gold.  She’d only managed to earn a few silvers.  I was guessing confused.  She was the princess, after all.  By default, she was supposed to be the better one. 

Using my tile, I pressed it to the door lock, and it clicked open.  That was another factor that sold me on the room.  The keys were similar enough to magnetic key cards from Earth.  That gave me an added feeling of security.  Stepping into the door, I closed it quickly.  Turning around, I found Julia placidly sitting on the couch with a second woman, who was wearing a mask.

Chapter 15 – Unexpected Guests

“Tea,” said the woman pleasantly enough, and Julia quickly moved to oblige.  She poured a cup for me and handed it over, then rapidly sat back down.  I had stupidly closed the door before I understood what was going on.

“Thanks for the warning, asshole,” I thought to Shart, activating my Scent skill.  They had been in the room for around twenty minutes.  That was a lot of time for mischief. 

“Hey, not my fault,” screamed the demon.  “There are hundreds of you guys down there, and I can barely keep track of you.  I can’t possibly keep track of whatever lasso girl is doing.”

Lasso girl?

I brought the cup to my lips and inhaled the aroma.  It was poisoned, of course.  I stood there, blowing on the steaming brew. 

“This is my old teacher.  She was in town and was surprised to find me,” smiled Julia.  I examined her eyes.  They looked normal.  She believed the story she was telling me.  That was troubling. 

“Well, how lovely,” I responded with an air of civility.  From the slight bob of her head, I could tell the woman had smiled behind her mask.  My Mental Resistance was going wild, telling me that she had an illusion spell covering her face.  She was trying to project a calming aura into the room.  About the only thing real to her current appearance was a pair of high-quality boots.  She was noticeably clumsier about her mental manipulations than Bashara had ever been, though.  My skills were more than enough to step on her attempts. 

“Why, thank you,” said the woman with a slight lisp.  I considered that.  While her name was showing as Angela, a name painfully common in this town, I was guessing she was the second adventurer.  At least, I hoped she was. If there were a third adventurer, this was going to get even more complicated.

I wondered what her plan was for a moment, until my Magical Traps skill started firing off.  I couldn’t see regular spells without being obvious about it, but I could find wards.  Thankfully, they counted as traps.  She had placed several of them around the room.  I glanced at the most obvious one. 

●   Paralysis Ward: This ward will cause the target to suffer from paralysis for a period of up to two hours, depending on stats and resistances.

That wasn’t a terrible plan.  “Angela” would paralyze me, easily kill me, and make off with Julia.  The princess probably wouldn’t even notice that anything was wrong.  Blowing on my tea, I glanced back at the door.  The inner handle had a similar ward that was now active.  I wondered if she had some spell that caused the door to close once I’d entered.  After all, who pays that much attention to a door you want to close anyway. 

Smiling back at her, I realized it didn’t matter.  I could Counterspell and talk at the same time.

“You must tell me about Julia in her youth.  She never mentioned anything about her younger days,” I began.

Julia started to speak, but I shushed her.  That pissed Julia off, which is what I needed right now.  Julia hated being disrespected, so I purposefully dismissed her.  “Now, Julia, I have your old teacher here.  I’d like to hear the stories from her.”  For an instant, I could see a flash of irritation across Julia’s face, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.  The magic had obviously reasserted itself. 

That spell is active.  There was a difference between an actively maintained magic and a ward.  If I started fiddling around with something active, the caster would instantly know.  If I started fiddling with a passive ward, “Angela” would only know if she checked on it. 

“Well, what would you like to know?” “Angela” began, eying the door.  More wisps of magic ran into my mental fortress.  I was getting critical successes, so “Angela” didn’t know anything was wrong. 

“She did mention something about stealing cookies from the kitchen,” I joked, feeding her a prompt, “But I don’t have any of the details.”

“Angela” considered for a moment, before she started to speak.  If she was smart this would be a cute little ignorable story about Julia.  The story would be false, but not something that would offend Julia.  However, “Angela” didn’t carry herself like someone who would tell a cute little story. 

“Angela” began, “Well, you see, Julia was even pudgier than this when she was a child.  She had such a terrible sweet tooth.  When you are an ugly duckling, you have to compensate somehow.” 

She droned on and on with the obviously fake story about the obviously fake encounter. This forced her to focus Mana on restraining Julia and keeping her made-up story straight.  Her version of Julia was a whiney, stupid little girl.  Every time “Angela” spoke, Julia’s placid face grew angry for an instant.  Then, “Angela” would spend enough Mana to calm her back down.  Each time she had to spend more Mana as Julia’s rage started to crystalize.  Every couple of minutes, “Angela” would glance at the door before continuing the tale.  I continued working on the wards while she spoke. 

After a good ten minutes of rambling, “Angela” started to look a bit frazzled.  I good-naturedly asked, “You keep looking at the door.  Are you waiting on someone to join us?”

“What makes you think that?” she asked, an edge creeping into her voice. 

“Oh, I see,” I chuckled.  “He’s unconscious in an alley.  Gonna have a hell of a headache when he comes to.  Was that part of your plan?”

She shrugged.  “Not really, but I didn’t expect him to be successful anyway.” 

Suddenly, the wall behind me rippled with arcane energy, as she activated all three wards in unison.  They were fire, acid, and lightning wards designed to fill most of the small room, save the couch where she and Julia were sitting. 

The three wards sparked, smoked, and hissed for a moment, before coming to an abrupt stop.

“I think you should have waited on him,” I casually remarked.

“I still have an ally,” The masked adventurer began.  I started Counterspelling her mind control on Julia.  By now, the insulting story of young, stupid Julia had significantly frayed the mind control.  Julia never struck me as a woman that was ever out of control over herself.  By giving her ‘teacher’ enough rope to hang herself with her outlandish story, I had allowed Julia time to realize how strange a predicament she was in.  The cornerstone of Mental magic was getting your target to buy into the magic, and right now Julia was powerfully resisting that image of herself. 

●                    Counterspell check, critically successful: The target of this spell has powerfully resisted the Mind Control attempt, aided by your Counterspell check.

Julia had broken the spell on her own, as soon as the masked adventurer became distracted.  The princess screamed, casting a short-range blast of Holy Energy into the woman’s face.  This caused “Angela” to stumble.  She recovered quickly and started moving her hands to cast a spell of her own.  I shoved my fingers between hers and pulled.

●   Basstown Headbutt: Damage, 13 points of Damage, knockback 1 log

The mask shattered, hard shards of ceramic tearing into my forehead.  It made me nauseous but did no real Damage.  Her name suddenly became exposed as her disguise faded.  I could now see that the spellcaster’s name was Su-Kar.  She got the worse end of the mask shattering, as she collapsed to the ground screaming.  If I’d had a weapon, this is where I would have killed her.  Alas, all I had was my carving knife.  With my current arsenal, I was going to be headbutting her until I got a migraine.  Even adding in Smite wasn’t going to make this a quick process. 

However, Julia wasn’t without weapons of her own. She held up both her hands and started gathering a much larger disco ball of power than I had ever seen her use before. 

Unfortunately, even at point-blank range and distracted, Su-Kar wasn’t unprepared.  She crafted a barrier just as the spell hit.  The spell's energy raged against the barrier for an instant before exploding backward onto Julia, flinging her into the attached bed chamber. 

Su-Kar’s disgusting face stared at me, her eyes filled with utter hatred.  I glanced down at my carving knife and held it in a more threatening manner.  I also cast Renew, because this was about to hurt. 

She held up a hand.  A blast of lighting powerful enough to scar the wood behind me sizzled past me, as I activated my Evasion perk and dodged the strike.  I jerked past her, slicing her with my knife from shoulder to sternum. 

●   Carving Knife: You cause 10 points of Damage; target resists 9 points.

“Well, this is going to take a while,” I said.  Su-Kar looked at my dagger for a moment, then smiled.

“Is that your only weapon?” she chuckled, preparing to cast another spell.  As she cast her spell, I dodged to the left, letting the lightning flash past me.  She swore and began another spell.

I punched her. The attack was so unexpected that I managed to strike her in the torso.  Unfortunately, on Ordinal, a strike at my skill level didn’t do enough Damage to hurt her very much.  Su-Kar had a spell active called Arcane Armor that reduced the Damage I could inflict to miniscule levels. She blasted a spell at me, which I evaded.  We continued to dance around, with me punching her, and her blasting back at me with magic.  My one abortive attempt at grabbing her caused me to pull back a smoking hand.  She had been able to channel electricity into the Arcane Armor spell. 

About twenty punches in, her Health bar still hadn’t moved.  I desperately needed a new strategy.  My stupid knife wasn’t going to work, and even my occasional headbutt had been deflected by her Arcane Armor spell.  I needed a proper weapon.

●   Chaise Lounge: 9 points of Damage.  Non-standard weapon, knockback 3 logs. 

Slamming the couch down on her for 9 Damage didn’t mean much, especially when her Arcane Armor spell absorbed all that Damage.  Slamming the couch down on her so hard that she tore through the abused piece of furniture worked much better.  Su-Kar ended up having her arms pinned to her sides by the now smoldering fabric of the poor, destroyed piece of furniture. 

●   Pinned Debuff: Su-Kar is subject to the Pinned Debuff.  She is unable to use her arms successfully and will be unable to cast spells with somatic requirements. 

“Well, shit,” grumbled Su-Kar, as she looked at her predicament. 

As Su-Kar glared at me, impotently screaming, she struggled to get her arms free.  I reached over and picked up one of the couch cushions, sparing a quick glance into the other room.  Julia was still stunned.  Sighing, I walked over to Su-Kar.  Her eyes suddenly grew very wide, as she unsuccessfully struggled to get either arm free.

I shoved the pillow into her face hard enough for her head to dent the wall behind her. Her magical field was causing the pillow to smolder, but that didn’t matter much. 

●   Suffocation Debuff: Su-Kar has had her airway forcefully blocked for more than 10 seconds. Her Stamina has depleted.  She will take 2 Damage per second until she dies. 

Part of me felt guilty about crushing someone with a couch and then suffocating them with a fancy pillow.  The bigger part of me just wanted this over.  I needed to kill Charles, and this was an unneeded distraction. 

At the thirty second mark, her struggling had become noticeably feebler.  I was trying to push myself into a different headspace as she struggled.  Su-Kar had been trying to kill me ever since I met her.  O’Really was not squeamish like Jim had been.  Just as her twitching was about to stop, the door shot open.  A very pissed off Phillip stepped in, still dripping blood that I presumed came from the bouncers. 

“Hi,” I began, still holding the pillow.

“I’m going to rip off your arm and fuck you with it,” he declared.

“Well, that’s just disgusting,” I countered.  I kept pushing.  Phillip’s eyes suddenly locked onto the fine pair of boots that Su-Kar was wearing.  For a very odd instant, I saw indecision on his brow.  He must not get along with her, either.  It didn’t last long.  He lunged forward, wielding his hatchets in a spin like a Tasmanian devil. 

I had to move away from the couch.  Phillip spared a second to knock the lounge down exposing Su-Kar’s arms, before he continued toward me.  His partner inhaled deeply and coughed, finally managing to get one arm free from the furniture.  Phillip swung in such an erratic pattern that I failed to Dodge a strike.  I attempted a parry with my carving knife.  Have you ever tried to parry an ax with a knife? The results are not pretty.

●   Parry: Hatchet of Cleaving vs Carving Dagger, Critical Failure.  Carving Knife is destroyed.  The attack strikes, causing 11 points of Damage.

●   Carving Dagger has broken and has impaled your arm for an additional 4 points of Damage. 

Growling, I stumbled back, yanking the metal out of my arm.  Considering how high my Defense was, 11 points of Damage getting through on a glancing blow was troubling.

I cast Renew and continued dancing around.  With that active, I could hopefully out-heal any Damage he could do.  Phillip’s expression turned concerned when my wounds began to seal themselves.  Then, he turned furious. I missed a Dodge, and his blade carved across my arm.  My Renew spell ended.

Oh shit, Renew doesn’t work if you take additional Damage.  My entire strategy collapsed.  I had wondered what “out of combat” meant.  At least one facet of it was that you couldn’t take any more Damage. 

Phillip’s skin started turning red.  He came back at me much faster this time.  I tried to Dodge, but he struck me half a dozen times in only a few seconds.  Without a weapon to respond, I was relegated to using only Fancy Footwork.  Phillip took advantage of my lack of additional defense forms.  My few attempts to headbutt him had caused me to suffer additional wounds.  His spinning blades caught me several more times. 

I was now down over 119 Hit Points, despite all my efforts to defend myself.  I’d recover them in a minute, but I doubted Phillip was going to give me that minute.  The depressing thing was that if I’d had my sword or any armor, I could have halved that Damage.  Suddenly, a shotgun blast of magic slammed into me, knocking me back into the far wall.  I bounced off and struck the bed, bounced again, and landed on the floor in a heap. 

Su-Kar looked upset.  Her Health was back to nearly full, as was her Stamina.  She had been drinking potions while Phillip kept me distracted. 

“Keep him busy.  I’ll get Julia,” she barked, walking to the door to the common area.  The carpet Julia had fallen on started to move, as if being dragged by an unseen servant.  Phillip’s Stamina suddenly dipped, and he started after me again with a series of powerful strikes.

I had tricks of my own, though.

●   One Punch: 221 Stamina expended for 221 points of Damage, knockback, 22 logs.  Target has activated Strength of Oak!

My punch landed squarely in the middle of his surprised chest.  He slid back a full log before coming to a stop.

He chuckled.  For a Hail Mary hit like that to have almost no effect was concerning.  I activated Second Wind, recovering three-fourths of my Stamina.  That annoyed him.  He had been hoping that my attack had drained all my energy.  He stepped forward, allowing Julia’s seemingly unconscious form to pass behind him.

“Nice tricks, but I’ve seen most of them before.  Why not make it easier on yourself and just go? We are going to get the girl and then…” he trailed off.  I looked down, seeing that Julia had wrapped her hand around his ankle.  She was chanting something.  Su-Kar swore and started to prepare another spell.

●   One Punch: 285 Stamina expended for 285 points of Damage, knockback, 28 logs.  Target is held, Damage increased by 50%, total Damage 428. 

Julia’s spell held him in place, making my attack much more successful.  Phillip went flying backward, straight into Su-Kar.  As he plowed into her, his partner’s spell tagged him in the back.  After he struck, he spun like a ragdoll, hitting the nearby wall and slamming into it, stunned.  He was damaged, badly, but his armor and defensive perks had kept him alive. 

Su-Kar vanished.  She had been knocked backward and sent further out the doorway. 

Julia was instantly on her feet.  She rushed over to me and pulled, but, with my Stamina depleted, I wasn’t going anywhere.  That was stupid.  When she’d stopped Phillip, I should have run.  I wasn’t going to be able to kill Charles if I died here. 

Unexpectedly, I felt a twinge of Stamina return, as Julia cast a Heal Stamina spell on me.  It wasn’t much, but it got me conscious enough to hear her screaming, “We need to go, now!”

I let her pull me out of the room, and we stumbled down the stairs.  There was carnage everywhere. It looked like Phillip had brutally killed everyone he’d seen.  There was even a woman wearing fine boots that had been shoved, headfirst, into the fire pit. 

Chapter 16 – On the Road Again

“Took you long enough,” hissed Su-Kar, tossing her final empty vial into the fire. 

“He broke my leg!  Sorry that it took me a moment to crawl down the stairs,” groaned Phillip. 

Both of them sat in silence for a long moment.  The warmth of the fire was both enjoyable and healing, as it provided a buff that restored Stamina faster.  Not that it mattered much.  While they had survived, they were both broken from the battle. 

“The temple Acolyte will be here soon,” stated Phillip, watching the fire for a bit longer.  “Did you ever find your nose?” 

Su-Kar said nothing in response, her hands cradling something.

“We should burn down the town,” said Phillip seriously.

“Not enough time now.  Maybe after we catch her,” replied Su-Kar, wrapping a cloth around her further damaged face.  Being stuck in a fire while it slowly cooked you for twenty minutes was not good for your complexion, even if you had Arcane Armor activated.

“You can still track her, right?” asked Phillip.

“Yes, they are moving west.  I suspect they are headed to the Vineyards,” stated Su-Kar, her voice terribly hollow.  To Phillip, she sounded like some sort of lich.  He involuntarily shuddered.  Tales of those horrible creatures always made his skin crawl.  If he was going to fight a lich, he wanted someone a bit tougher by his side. 

“We can’t stop them alone.  I’ll summon a messenger,” replied Phillip, as the Acolyte timidly stepped over the smoldering rubble of the inn.

***

I groaned. We had been nearly a mile outside of town before I’d gotten over my Stamina Crash.  There had been a bridge, and Julia had dragged me onto it before I’d fully recovered.  We were making our best possible time on the road beyond the town, but it wasn’t nearly good enough.  The road continued to the west for as far as the eye could see, surrounded on both sides by tall trees. 

Julia had replenished my Hit Points almost as soon as the battle was over.  That was different.  Normally, I’d be walking around with some slight injuries due to the need to conserve healing potions, but Healing magic was better at some things than others. 

Healing magic excelled in fixing Damage and Injuries.  Spells like Heal Damage were far better than a healing potion for taking care of Hit Point loss after battle.  However, now that I had been exposed to Healing magic, I’d spotted a few obvious weaknesses. 

Heal Stamina, for example, was manifestly worse than a stamina potion.  It was a higher-level spell that provided an inferior return on investment, with 50 Mana recovering only 10 Stamina.  Of course, if you were in a Stamina Crash, that 10 Stamina was enough to get you up and moving again.  Maybe that was the point.

“How did they track us to the town?” Julia asked.  “Did you not cover our tracks well enough?”

“I didn’t cover our tracks at all after the first few miles.  I placed a bunch of traps, though.  If they’d followed us, they should have tripped some of them,” I responded.  We continued down the road until I spotted a point where someone had recently walked onto the road that wasn’t using a trail. 

“Wait,” I stated, coming to a stop.  My Tracking skill activated, showing me that someone wearing very fine boots had cut through the woods.  Su-Kar wore similar boots. 

“You think they came this way?” Julia asked.

I considered my Tracking skill for a moment.  “I don’t think they are tracking us conventionally.”

“What do you mean?” asked Julia.  I walked several paces into the woods, finally spotting a pair of tracks that matched Su-Kar and Phillip’s, probably.  They were on the north side of the road.  They sure found us easily enough.

We had been on the east side of the river and had more or less followed it until we got to the town.  Su-Kar and Phillip had been on the west side of the river.  They hadn’t been following us with the Tracking skill at all.

“I mean, they aren’t following our trail,” I said, gesturing to the tracks.  “They came into town from across the bridge.  These tracks aren’t very old.”

“My teacher…” started Julia, before shaking her head and swallowing.  I knew from firsthand experience that Mental magic sucked.  Julia adjusted herself.  “I stepped out to take a bath, Su-Kar was waiting in the room when I got back.”

“I didn’t mention you to anyone while I was renting the room,” I said defensively.  After meeting at the temple and enjoying our pies, we had gone to the inn together.  There had been a short gap when we’d broken apart from there.  She had gone to check out the room, and I’d gone to check on my sword at the blacksmith’s. Feck.

“Shart, how could they be tracking us?” I asked my former shoulder demon.

“Let me check,” stated Shart.  He was quiet for several long moments, as the sound of typing filled my head.  “Ha, I see it. There is a tracking spell on the collar that Lasso Lady is wearing. You should ditch her.  She is a worthless waste of skin.”

“I need her to summon you back to Ordinal,” I said.

“Um, yeah, like I was saying, let’s check on Counterspelling that,” stated the demon. 

I began probing the collar with my Counterspell skill, poking it until I found the slight trace of Mana that seemed to race off into the distance.  I eyeballed where it went, then brought up my map.  Unfortunately, the Mana from the Tracking spell didn’t point to the caster. 

“You can’t use that to track your tracker, if that’s what you are hoping,” said Shart.  “Tracking Mana is only going to lead back to wherever they dug up the stone they used.  That’s why local stones are better.  Less lag.”

I’d long ago given up on trying to understand magic, but my Arcane Lore skill chimed in.  I got a very detailed, technical explanation of how Tracking magic worked.  Obviously, Shart was correct.  You could cast a tracking spell using an unworked gemstone as an anchor and something from the object you wanted tracked.  The stone was destroyed in the process. 

The weakness of the magic was the gemstone used.  The point where you cast the spell was the anchor for the whole spell.  There was a connection between the anchor, the place the anchor was mined, and the tracked object.  The longer that connection was, the less accurate the tracking spell became.  You needed a high quality, locally mined stone for the best results. 

With the use of Arcane Lore, assuming that Su-Kar had cast the spell in Angwin, the response would come every five minutes.  The signal would take longer the further away from Angwin we traveled, but nothing stopped the caster from just casting the spell again locally. The best thing to do to prevent them from quickly finding us would be moving around with a large group of people.  Crowds and movement both reduced the accuracy of the spell significantly. 

“They are tracking you through your collar,” I said.  Julia swore, touching the collar and getting shocked again. 

“Will she be able to do it again?” asked Julia.

“She needs to have gemstones to cast the spell.  Good luck finding any in town.  As you like to say, I am a thief,” I said, pulling out a handful of uncut gemstones.  I was pretty sure I had stolen more, but only one of my pockets was intact.  My Quick Steal perk allowed me to steal things when I was punching someone.  Su-Kar’s potions had been protected against my efforts, but her gemstones had been accessible. At the time, I’d stolen them because they were valuable, and she looked like the kind of girl who would miss them. 

Julia smiled.  “Well, there is a time and a place for everything.”

“Yes, but she will still be able to track you as long as you are wearing that collar,” I said.  “Eventually, she will find another gemstone and recast the spell to get a better reading.”

“Well, it's a good thing we can work on this together,” she replied after a moment.  Hesitantly, she added, “We are a great team?”

I stared at her flatly for a moment.  It would be so much easier to just ditch her.  Too bad I needed her, at least for the time being.  “Yup, great team.”

She let out a breath.  “You know, there may be an upside to you being a thief.  Do you think you can just pick the lock on the collar?”

That was an idea.  I put my hand on the back of her neck and examined the tight collar.  The moonlight wasn’t helping me much, so I lowered her head slightly to get some more light on the lock.  Bringing my eyes nearer, I examined the clasp more closely. 

“Ahem,” she said finally.  I looked up into her eyes and realized my face was very close to her face.  She was propped up in my arms; I’d inadvertently swept her off her feet.

“Sorry, I don’t think I can pick it, especially with my current supplies,” I said.  She started to frown, but I continued, “If I can get some higher quality picks, I might be able to do something.”

“It's cursed too,” warned Shart, as I set Julia back onto her feet.

My Curse Breaker skill was higher now.  It only took me a moment to latch onto the curse.  It was a measly 250 pointer, and I still couldn’t do anything about it. 

“Maybe in a few more levels,” I said to Shart, “Or if you could unlock my Mage class.”

“I figured that out, but you aren’t going to like it,” replied the demon.

“Hit me,” I said. 

“Choose the strange god that allows you to use a Magical Core,” said Shart.  I cursed silently. Of course, there would have been a god who used a bit of Arcane magic, just like there was a god who used a bit of sword. 

“Can I change gods?” I asked.

“Nope, maybe you shouldn’t do things while the great, all-knowing Shart is unavailable,” suggested Shart smugly.

“I had a choice of magic or sword,” I said, “There was going to be a sacrifice either way.”

“Point, but there is another option for you to regain your arcane magic,” continued Shart.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You hit level 15 in Cleric and take the Arcane Adept Path. It lets you cast both Arcane and Divine magic,” said the demon.  “Arcane Adept activates all your magical cores, instead of just your Fire and Biological Aeromancy.”

“So that Path would activate my Plasma core?” I asked, considering.

“Just your basic cores, there is typically more involved in activating an Advanced Core,” asked Shart, groaning.  “It’s not impossible though.  All you would need to do is work on a few skills.”

“That sounds easy,” I began.

“A few incredibly complicated, hard to master, rare skills,” grinned Shart.  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. “

“My Biological Aeromancy core was easy enough,” I countered.

“That is an alternative Core, the same but different than your Aeromancy core would have been,” stated Shart.  “You might think it is marginally better, but your Core requires more effort to use properly. An Advanced Core is just better.”

I considered that.  Biological Aeromancy had a bunch of limitations compared to a conventional Aeromancy.  Aside from my most powerful spell, most of the options in Biological Aeromancy were pretty limited.  Further, the Stamina requirement was really build dependent.  Su-Kar was a higher-level caster and she only had 50 points of Stamina.  She couldn’t cast Bio-Lighting more than once but had been able to cast multiple variants of the Lightning spell at me in rapid succession. 

For my build, Biological Aeromancy was useful.  If I ever went full caster, then it would be worthless.  It was better to focus on the Advanced Cores.  Apparently, they had all the bonuses and none of the drawbacks. 

That was for the future, though.  My current problem was that I was still unarmed and covered in blood.  Furthermore, Phillip had covered my new clothes in ax slashes.  I could use Mend to reattach the material, but, in a lot of cases, the material wasn’t there anymore.  It was still better than the loincloth, I supposed, until a breeze hit me.  I recognized the feeling instantly. 

They are flapping in the breeze again.

Activating my Counterspell skill, I was able to temporarily sever the tracking link to the collar.  It was trickier than I expected but still well within my capabilities.  Su-Kar could probably cast the spell again, but doing so would take time.  Hopefully, it would give us an advantage.

“That should give us a few hours of free movement,” I said.  Julia nodded and began to pray.  A moment later, a ward flickered to life around her.  It hovered there for a moment before becoming transparent. 

“That’s better,” she smiled and looked at me.  “Anti-scrying ward.  They will still be able to track this accursed collar, but the ward should reduce the details they are getting from it.”

I ran us backward for a good minute, finding a side road cut off from the main.  It went south into the woods and appeared to be a human-made trail, not quite a permanent path.  The number of people traveling in this area was substantial, meaning it would take Su-Kar and Phillip even longer to locate us.  It was a bit of a shame; I did enjoy making Phillip’s life harder than it already was.  Along the way, I grabbed two heavy stones that seemed perfect for ruining someone’s back.  I gave one to Julia, and we waddled off the road.  Carrying our burdens off into the forest, we left much deeper footprints than we had before.  That, along with our shoes being common, should adjust our tracks enough to give our pursuers fits. 

We walked in silence for a good fifteen minutes.  Well, I walked in silence.  Julia grunted more and more until she finally dropped the rock and straightened up without further comment.  The countryside in this part of Falcon was hilly and woody, but there was a major road up ahead.  If we could get to it and move quickly, we could blend in. 

“All I wanted was a night in an inn,” groused Julia. 

“All I wanted was a sword,” I grumbled.

“I reckon I might be able to help you with that,” said a massive man, as he stepped out of the woods.  Even by my adjusted standards living with Sir Dalton, this man was large.  His skin color alerted me that something was off, even before I got a good look at his face.  He was light green.  I squinted again, making sure I wasn’t just seeing things in the moonlight.  Nope, light green he is.  He also had two massive tusks protruding from his lower jaw.  As I continued staring, he tilted his hat and said, “Howdy, pilgrim.”

“Who are you?” asked Julia, whose name tag now showed up as Angela.  She was using the Disguise skill, which seemed like a reasonable precaution.

“Well, ma’am, my name is Cole.  I’m out here making sure my wagon isn’t ambushed by any untoward folk,” stated the man.  My Lore skill identified him as an orc. 

“We aren’t planning on ambushing anyone,” I said, as the orc walked closer to me.  He was wearing all leather armor, including what I could only describe as a fifteen-gallon hat.  That hat would have been a novelty on a human.  On an orc, it looked really good. 

Julia stifled a groan.  I didn’t understand why until the orc continued.  “I’m just trying to get my caravan moving again, that’s all.  Perhaps you folk could be of some assistance?  You scratch our backs, and we’ll scratch yours.”

There was a “Hear, hear!” from the forest.

“So, do you want us to join you?” I cautiously asked.  There were quite a few more unseen voices from the forest than I really would have preferred.

“Orcish hospitality,” said Julia.  “They are super nice but always plan on staying a bit.  We need to move.”

“Why, thank ya, ma’am,” Cole said, tipping his hat at Julia.  “We aim to please.  However, I’d like to get us all moving as soon as possible.”

I considered that for an instant before shaking my head.  Getting annoyed, I stepped toward him.  “We don’t have a lot of time. We need to be heading west.”

Cole eyed me before shrugging.  “Well, why didn’t you say so.  We need some skilled people who could assist us in our journey to the west.  I could offer you a pair of pants if you at least come to the wagon.”

“We need to get moving,” said Julia flatly.

“Let's at least hear them out,” I countered.  “I’ve got a bad airflow situation down here.”

“Seriously,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Serious shrinkage,” I continued, “I’m dealing with a frightened turtle situation.”

“I will mend them for you,” she hissed.

“That requires material to work with.  We could use some cover from the two people who are constantly trying to kill us,” I continued.

Julia looked at me for a moment before turning to Cole.  “Why do you need skilled people?”

“Well, moving a caravan is tricky business. We have only been averaging a league or so a day.  We are asking all travelers if they have the Administration skill.”   

“You need an Administrator for a caravan,” I thought.  We sent caravans to Narwal all the time and never needed an Administrator.  Though come to think of it Mar always did seem to spend an inordinate amount of time preparing the caravan. 

“The minimum skill level we need is Journeyman,” Cole shrugged.  “There are painfully few Journeyman Administrators walking around in the world.”

“Have any luck?” I asked.

“I don’t need luck,” stated Cole, eying Julia and me very carefully.  “I have a trait that lets me sniff out certain skills, even if you are hiding them.  My actual profession was a Lawman.  It came in real handy to be able to know who had certain skills.”

“Ah,” I said, stepping back slightly.  I bumped into Julia, who was squarely behind me now.

“So, I’ll ask again, could one of you help us with our predicament?” he continued.

“Give us a second,” I said, stepping away from Cole with Julia.  “What’s your Administration skill at?”

“Expert,” she hissed, “but I’m using my Disguise skill at the moment to appear as a temple Acolyte named Angela.”

I glanced at her.  Not only was her name coming up as Angela, but a quick Lore dive showed her as a simple Acolyte, rather than a Zealot. 

“So, just say you are an Acolyte with the Administration skill,” I replied.

“I’m claiming to be an Acolyte of Tony. They don’t do Administration at all.  If I was an Acolyte of Pepper, I could claim that,” she continued. 

“Well, I have the Administration skill,” I said, as Cole began impatiently tapping his feet.

“A Novice rank isn’t going to help us,” spat Julia.

“Hey, give me some credit!  I’m at Talented,” I replied in a hot whisper.  Julia looked at me appraisingly for a moment.  Nodding to herself, she spun me around rather aggressively. 

“They figured us out,” said Julia, pushing me toward Cole.  “We are escaping my father, and O’Really here is his clerk.  He has the Administration skill.”

“Well, I can see you are an Acolyte, but O’Really here doesn’t have any skills listed at all,” stated Cole.

“That’s because of the cursed amulets my mother forced us to wear,” continued Julia, nearly sobbing.  She turned, addressing the forest and exposing her neck to show the finely wrought collar.  “You see!  She forced O’Really to wear a matching collar to keep all of his skills from showing, so no one else would hire him!  Mine…” Julia’s lip quivered with her voice, “Well, mine prevents me from knowing a man intimately.”

“How so?” asked Cole.  Either Julia was better at this than I was giving her credit or Cole had failed his Detect Bullshit check.

“It causes their manhoods to be rendered permanently flaccid,” she sniffed.  “We were searching for a curse breaker.”

“To remove the collars?” asked Cole imploringly.

“That’s one of the reasons,” said Julia, looking at me sadly.

Cole swallowed hard.  “Well, I can assure both of you that such treachery will have no place in our caravan.  We are attempting to travel out west, past the Vineyards.”

“Thank you so much!” cried Julia happily.  “Just to warn you, though, my witch of an aunt might send some adventurers after us.”

“Fear not, our caravan is well-protected,” stated Cole.  “If a handful of adventurers try to attack, we’ll be ready and rarin’ to go!”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” replied Julia.  “Please, come, O’Really.”

“I seem to have a great problem with that all of a sudden,” I stated flatly.

“Oh, hush, this is what you wanted, after all,” smiled Julia.

Chapter 17 – The Caravan

Badgers were not built for overland travel.  That was an immutable fact, like water flowing downhill, and Charles needing to die.  In the past two days of travel, Badgelor, Lord of the Badgers, had made it all of twelve leagues.  Doing so had taken every trick he’d known.

Badgelor could sense Jim, who was even now being chased by powerful adventurers who were trying to kill him.  Without Badgelor there, Jim was doomed.  That distressed the badger greatly.  Jim was the only tolerable human he had met in the past 400 years.

“Ya Dumbass,” thought Badgelor, as he continued waddling overland.

“I knew this was a mistake,” replied <Kevin> or Shart, as Jim had named him.  That was one of Jim’s better choices.  Badgelor had only dealt with one other Elder Demon before.  At this point, he could say he officially didn’t like the entire species.  Normally that was not an issue; there were only two of the assholes. 

“Look, ya wee little Shart,” growled Badgelor, “I need to know if I’m still heading down the right road.”

“You can see Jim’s direction,” stated the demon.

“Direction and road are two different things.  I’m not wandering overland any longer.  It takes too long,” grumbled the badger.

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” hissed Shart.

“When Jim figures out how to summon you back,” stated Badgelor, “And you know he will, I will remember this, arsehole.  Mark my words.”

Shart was quiet for a few moments.  “They are heading toward the Silverado.”

Badgelor frowned.  Jim was too far away, and Badgelor would be in no fit shape to fight when he got there.  Not if he kept up this pace.  The badger thought for a long while before smiling.  With Jim so far away, Badgelor didn’t have to share maps with him, which was good.  When Badgelor had an idea this great, he didn’t want anyone bothering him. 

Thankfully, Shart couldn’t track him and generally didn’t talk to him.  Assuming this stupid, crossed wires nonsense worked as advertised, the Lord of the Badgers had some work to do. 

***

“So, what you meant to say was that you are attempting to form a caravan and would like some help,” I said, glaring over at Cole. 

“Sure’nuff,” he replied, as we walked into the clearing.  The twenty men Cole had brought with him were gathered in one spot.  Including the women and children, their camp came to a spanking total of thirty-four people and one chicken.  In the middle of all the activity was a single, oversized wagon, which was currently stuck in the king of all potholes. 

The Caravanner’s Wagon was supposed to be the center point of the entire caravan.  It functioned as the Town Hall.  This particular wagon was a grandly over scaled one, hauled by six massive oxen.  It was the Ordinal equivalent of a semi-tractor trailer operated by an Expert Wagoner.

RonJared, the Expert Wagoner of this roaming town, was good with his hands.  I guessed being an Expert Wagoner required some Carpentry, along with its core skills.  Also, given his name, RonJared was not native to Falcon.  Every Falcon name I’d heard so far sounded ‘American’ for lack of a better word, except for Su-Kar which struck me as a man’s name for some reason. 

RonJared was currently in the mud with several other men, trying to put a wheel on the wagon.  However, they seemed to lack the supplies necessary to do it.  At least, they lacked the supplies to do it in a muddy hole. 

I was about to suggest to Julia that we bail, but she had already wandered over to several injured people.  They were in obvious need of some tending.

“How would an Administrator have prevented this?” I asked.

“Well, I would expect the Administrator to pick up the Caravanner subskill.  It grants a bunch of bonuses to caravans that prevent things like wheels spontaneously shattering,” said Cole, shooing me toward the problem.

“That might be a problem, I don’t have that skill,” I said.

“Not to worry,” replied Shart, “The Caravanner subskill is part of Administrator skill, you gain ranks based on your Administration skill, so it won’t take long for you to level up this thoroughly useless skill at all.”

“That sounds great,” I said.

“It isn’t, Dum Dum,” stated Shart.  “But wasting everyone’s time is what you do best!” 

●   You have been offered the job of Caravanner.  Would you like to accept <Yes/No>

I didn’t like this, but Cole was at least keeping the area patrolled.  I selected “Yes.”

“Shart, you don’t see those other adventurers, right?” I asked. 

“Nope,” said Shart.  “They started a few fires when they left the last town, but nothing the local yokels couldn’t handle.  Then, you severed the Tracking spell and moved off the road.”

“I expected you to complain about what I was doing,” I chuckled.

“Like that would change your mind,” grumbled the demon.  “Besides, if they are going this same way, you are going to be harder for them to locate now.  That is assuming you get started soon, of course.”

Wandering over to the wagon, I watched RonJared and several other men attempting to get the new wheel on the axel.  They didn’t appear to be having much luck. 

“What happened?” I asked, as they gave up on their latest attempt.

“Cheap wheel shattered at the worst possible time,” announced the broad-shouldered man.  He eyed me carefully.  “We don’t have the right tools to get this thing fixed.  We would, if we had someone to organize this mess.”

“What do you need?” I asked.

“Some sort of jack.  If you could whip up one, I’d really appreciate it,” RonJared smiled.

“Sure, let me have that chicken.”

***

Phillip glared at the tracks and swore again.  That was always the problem with tracking people who possessed the Tracking skill.  Even if they didn’t have any other skills to hide their tracks, they knew how the Tracking skill worked.  They always picked the worst possible places to break away.  Case in point, the princess and her bodyguard had doubled back to a crossroads.

From there, they might have followed the crossroad to a small hamlet a few miles northeast.  They might have taken their shoes off and gone back down the road.  They also could have taken the smaller path into the forest.  They could have even fucked off into oblivion, for all he could tell right now.

Tracking animals was more straightforward.  They didn’t take their shoes off or grab rocks to change their weight.  The best track, off into nowhere, was also the one most likely to peter out. 

“How’s that Tracking spell going?” grumbled Phillip.  Su-Kar gave him a death stare.

“She put up a ward, so it didn’t take,” replied Su-Kar.

That didn’t sound good to Phillip.  “So, you can’t get the spell to work?”

“Not until tomorrow.  I’m going to have to cast the spell at noon.  I’m also going to need some gems,” stated Su-Kar.  Phillip didn’t understand the magical stuff too well, but he knew the spell’s accuracy depended on the kinds of gems used.

“Wait, what do you mean you need gems?  What happened to all the other ones you bought?” asked Phillip, confused.

Su-Kar tapped her pouch with her naked hand.  Normally, it made a pleasant little rattling sound when struck.  Now, it was plainly empty.  “He stole everything.”

“We should have charged after them,” said Phillip, pulling out his bow and using his Aim skill to look further into the distance.

“It’s not your fault.  You broke your leg, and I required some significant healing before we could leave,” stated Su-Kar.  She was being uncharacteristically comforting. 

Phillip still wasn’t quite sure when it happened, but it had happened.  They both hated the princess and her bodyguard more than they hated each other.  It was something Phillip hadn’t thought possible, because he loathed Su-Kar so much. 

“We know where she is going,” said Su-Kar.

“The Vineyards,” replied Phillip.  He knew that the former king had expressed some concerns that he believed could only be answered in the Great Cathedral.  That was the main reason he was the former king. 

“That means she is going to have to take the Silverado,” stated Su-Kar. 

Phillip considered that, as well.  The Silverado was the main road running through Falcon.  It crossed the entire length of Old Falcon and ended at the great Falcon Gate.  It also ran straight through the Vineyards, making it the best route, by far.  If the princess chose to avoid it, she would add so much time to her journey that intercepting her would be a breeze. 

Her best bet would be to blend in and follow the main road. 

“Well, if she’s doing that, then the rest of the party is in position to find her,” grinned Phillip.  Su-Kar showed her remaining teeth for a moment, before turning away. 

“I need to get to a cosmetic healer,” she said sadly.

“We’ll make time.”

***

“I didn’t expect him to do it,” stated RonJared, holding his hat.  “That poor chicken.”

“Heave,” I yelled.  The jack flexed, and the wagon dropped softly down onto its new wheel.  It had taken less than an hour, and the wagon was ready to go. 

RonJared stared at the jack for a long moment.  His voice came out quietly, “Stow that thing.  We might need it again.”

“It worked great,” I said.

“What did that chicken do to deserve that?” asked Julia, mouthing a quick prayer.

“He knows what he did,” I growled. 

In the hour it had taken us to get the caravan properly configured for travel, I’d learned a lot about Mar’s job.  In all honesty, I’d probably learned more about how Ordinal worked in the three days I’d been back than in my entire time in Windfall Valley. 

The first thing was that the natural deference everyone gave me in Windfall, simply because I’d founded the town and was an adventurer, did not apply here.  I was pretending to be O’Really, a regular Administrator.  People did not respect ordinary Administrators very much.

Instead of hanging on my every word and telling me how great I was, everyone complained to me about everything.  I knew who had bad knees, which parts of the wagon were bad for sleeping in, and which of the two cooks was the worse chef.  No one offered me any epic adventures or amazing quests.  All I got was paperwork. 

After finishing the day’s work, RonJared drove us to a small clearing.  The animals needed to rest before a long day of travel tomorrow.  Multiple other parties had also stopped in what I assumed passed for Ordinal’s version of a rest area.  I wasn’t all together sold on the idea of sleeping around so many strangers, but Cole posted a few guards.  Julia began discreetly placing wards, assuring me we would be safe.  Finally, we all bunked down for the evening.  I was dumped into an accursed hammock, but I was too tired to complain properly.  I promptly passed out for the night. 

Rolling out of the hammock in the morning, I face-planted onto the wall, slid down, scratched myself, and wandered out to get breakfast.  I heard the masses screaming at Cole, as I headed straight for the wake-up juice.  As long as they are screaming at him, they aren’t screaming at me. 

“We need more food,” yelled one of the guards.

“We are running low on tools,” yelled one of the assistants.

“Our supply of bandages is nearly gone,” stated Julia. 

RonJared was trying to calm everyone down.  I sipped at my WakeUpJuice and tried to blend in.  The instant he saw me, he yelled out, “Not O’Really, my problems!”

“That was going to get old quick,” I muttered, before nodding at the Wagoneer and starting my quest in creative paperwork. 

Chapter 18 – On the Road, For the First Time

●  Caravan: Rank 1

●  Vehicles: Grand Caravanner's Wagon (1/1)

●  Population: 36 (+2)

After the initial rush of requests, which I lacked the resources to do much about, I was left alone.  I decided to explore the inside of the massive, moving wagon.  It was approximately the same size as a modern semi-trailer truck.  There was a surprising amount of space, especially considering that it was mostly full of cargo.

The wagon had six compartments on the sides that folded out.  These compartments contained small shops and the inventory they needed to operate.  There was cargo storage covering the entire top of the wagon, giving the vehicle even more carrying capacity.  The sixteen people, including Julia and me, that crewed the wagon all had tasks to perform.

Most tended the shops, but RonJared ran the wagon.  He had the look of quiet competence I associated with a former military man.  Additionally, his Hit Points matched up with someone who had been in a militia.  He mostly kept to himself, only occasionally speaking to Cole or myself about issues. 

Our wagon also had six children that did not show up in the crew manifest.  They seemed to belong to various members of the crew or the escort.  The older ones tended to be gofers, for the most part.  They all stayed on the roof and out of trouble.  Julia, who had mistakenly told them a story, spent her spare time trying to educate them. 

The Wagon itself was full of hidden spots and pathways.  A tunnel went through the center of the wagon to the back, dotted along the way with small doors that led into the shops.  If you were lucky, you were the only one in the narrow hallway and could walk front to back in a few moments.  If someone else was going the other direction, it took a bit longer.  It also became a bit intimate. 

“So, how did you get stuck in that pothole anyway?” I asked RonJared, as I returned to the driver’s compartment that contained my small desk.  He glanced back at me, then scanned the field for a moment and spotted Cole. 

Nodding in Cole’s direction, he said, “There was a bit of a fight on the road.  I decided we’d take a sideroad to avoid it.  The fighting grew a bit more serious, but we got around it. Simple enough, but, by then, we were well off the Silverado and onto the side roads.  Wagon’s only really designed to go on the Silverado, and I pushed my luck too far.”

“So, no off-road travel?” I asked. 

RonJared smirked.  “Only if we are getting chased by bandits.  The wheels and axles don’t hold up well to that sort of thing.”

The sites around the Silverado were interesting.  Travel tended to end at a pretty large town, but there were hamlets on either side of the road, and, occasionally, they would have a large, red flag flying.  When RonJared spotted one of those, he’d pull the wagon over.  We’d take a break, while the stalls opened up on either side of the Wagon. 

With how fast crafting worked on Ordinal, we could fix anything the town needed fixing within the hour.  That left RonJared some time to do quick repairs on the wagon or tend to the oxen.  Julia and I usually stayed on the wagon.  Our one failed attempt at stretching our legs had nearly ended in disaster.  Julia had run into someone possessing a talent that let her remember anyone she’d ever glimpsed before.  Of course, she’d recognized the princess. 

The young lady couldn’t see through Shadowmeld, so Julia and I had snuck inside a small closet to hide.  The closet was just about the right size for two people interested in hanky panky.  Unfortunately, neither of us were, which made the time kind of awkward.  Plus, it was hot in there.  Also, Julia had slipped onto my lap about twenty minutes in, forcing me to think distant thoughts about starships and beer cans.  After an hour, we were cramped, squished together, and sweaty. 

Cole found us before the wagon was about to depart.  “Tarnation, aren’t you afraid your willy is going to fall off?” he asked, glaring at me.  Then, nodding politely to Julia, “Ma’am, I apologize for my blue language.”

“I’m sorry, Cole.  A man just needs some quality alone time with his girl from time to time,” I replied.

“Well, we gul dun thought we’d lost you in the town,” replied Cole, “But I told everyone that O’Really wasn’t no quitter.”

That was the opposite of what I was trying to project, unfortunately.  “I could have left.”

Cole just rolled his eyes at me.  Within moments, the wagon had started moving again.  Julia took her sweet time, disengaging herself from me and standing in the little hallway.  She took a moment to smooth her dress and adjust her hair.  “There were other places we could have hidden.”

“You rushed me,” I replied, trying to get to my feet.

“You might want to stay there for a bit. Otherwise, it will blow our cover story,” Julia chuckled.

“Don’t you mean ‘I’ll blow our cover story’?” I asked.

“No,” she replied and walked away. 

Several minutes later, I grumped back to the driver's cabin and plopped down at my desk.  RonJared just chuckled.  “Brave man, I don’t blame you.  It's not like you could suffer much more damage.”

I sighed, looking out the window.  There were so many interesting landmarks off the Silverado.  I just needed a bit more adventurer experience.  If only I wasn’t stuck doing...whatever it was I was doing with Julia, I would have finally earned it.  Sighing again, I spotted an oddly shaped tower.  It was unlike any other structure I had seen on Ordinal.  I gestured toward it, eager to change the subject.  “What’s that?”

“Precursor tower,” stated RonJared.  “You see them occasionally, as you travel the world.  They aren’t dungeons, but most of them were still picked over during the last age.  If you want some Precursor artifacts, you are going to have to hit one of the major markets.  Expect to pay a small fortune for them.” 

I examined the tower for a long moment.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was a skyscraper.  It had that look; it was a large square tower that currently stood about fifteen stories, although you could tell it had been taller in the past.  I went to ask Shart about it, but he wasn't responding.  I let it go, filing it away as something to bring up later.

Let sleeping demons lie.

As I continued examining the tower, I received a prompt:

●   You have spotted Vision of Heaven, Precursor Ruins!

●   Adventurer Level Up!

●   Cleric Level Up!

I blinked.  My Adventurer class earned small amounts of experience for ‘discovering’ things or visiting points of interest.  Finding the Silverado had been worth some, but this Precursor tower had been worth enough to finally push me over the top.

Something bothered me, though.  That was a skyscraper, and the Silverado was an actual highway.  The road was made up of concrete, or some local equivalent, and was wide enough for eight wagons to travel abreast.  It was also crowded, with dozens and dozens of wagons traversing it in both directions.  Minimal regard was paid to what a proper Earth driver would consider traffic laws.  However, if you painted stripes on it, most would have regarded it as a regular road without any further thought. 

There was a traffic jam up ahead.  From what I could see, a wagon had lost a wheel and jackknifed. Their drivers were fixing it, right in the middle of the road.  That had caused all the traffic, including a herd of cattle, to bunch up while attempting to go around.  With no traffic laws, everything was piling up everywhere.  RonJared sighed and brought the wagon to a stop. 

“Could our wheels be upgraded?” I asked, looking to the side of the road.  Blissful dirt lined both sides of the concrete.  It would have allowed us to continue, had the wagon been better suited for dirt. 

“Of course, but why?” replied RonJared, glancing over at me with a grin.  After a long minute, several of the other, smaller, wagons did go off-road.  There was soon enough of a gap on the road that he could maneuver around.  As we got back on course, he nodded in satisfaction.

“You can earn a living just traveling down this road?” I asked.

“Only in Falcon.  Let me explain.  The Silverado is a massive highway that runs most of the length of Falcon.  We are on the last stretch that ends in the Vineyards.  There are a bunch of small towns on the road, and all of them need service.”

“So, you usually stop several times a day?” I asked.

“Yes,” smiled RonJared, “but we are always moving.  You can never stop for too long. The locals get annoyed.”

“Is that why the little towns don’t keep blacksmiths or the like with them?” I asked, thinking back to our previous stops. 

“No, it’s because the nobility doesn’t want those small towns to be self-sufficient.  The wagons were originally built so the local lord could send over crafters, as they saw fit.  After a while, the lords grew bored with the minutia.  Now, wagons are permitted to buy permits that allow travel on the road.”

“We left a town with a smith before we joined,” I mentioned.

“You left a free town,” chuckled RonJared.  “Free towns are a whole different barrel of wine.  Those towns pay the local lords a fee to remain independent.  The town you left is far enough east that none of the local lords want to garrison it.  They would rather have the gold paid for the town’s freedom.  If it were past the rapids, then at least two of the families would be very interested.”

I hadn’t considered that.  Thinking back to the town, I realized that there weren’t any larger boats docked.  The river was full of rapids up by the waterfall, and I realized that the lake was probably the limit of where they could go. 

“So, is Cole in charge?” I asked.  Windfall had what amounted to an organizational chart, carefully laying out who did what.  The caravan had a list of people who were traveling with it.  Cole, RonJared, and I were all listed as equals, as were half the shopkeepers.  You only showed up lower if you directly reported to someone else.  I wondered if my Administrator skill wasn’t at a high enough level to pick through it. 

“He’s my partner,” replied RonJared, eying me.  “My junior partner.  Caravans work by ownership.  I own more of it than he does, so I get to call the shots.  However, since he owns some of it, I have to at least listen to what he says.  Bluntly, I brought him on board.  We usually don’t disagree much.  When we do, he’s usually right.”

“Where are you hoping to end up?” I asked.  RonJared smiled.

“I don’t know.  Cole is busy talking about going all the way to the gates of Grebthar’s Lands, and that’s good for him.  I’ll probably just turn around and head back east.  It takes a full year to travel this road, and I’ve been doing it for a while now,” replied RonJared.

“You travel seven leagues a day.  The road is that long?” I considered. 

He shrugged.  “The Wagon needs to be repaired from time to time, but you have to drive about 200 days a year.”

I whistled.  The United States was around 2800 miles, so call it 900 leagues.  That meant that Falcon was about 700 leagues from end to end, assuming the Silverado ran end to end.  Falcon was much thinner than the US, though. It was a long strip of land around thirty leagues tall, north to south, right off the inner sea.  Further east, the country filled out a bit more, but only just a bit.

“Well, I’m going to check on the caravan’s status,” I said, walking over to my desk and plopping down on the small, built-in chair. 

“I’ll be here,” stated RonJared.  He never seemed to stir while the caravan was moving. 

●   You have received a quest: You need 5 replacement wheels.

●   You have received a quest: The tarp is failing and will require repair.

●   You have received a quest…

I started shooting off quests to the various members of the caravan that could perform them.  Each handoff was worth a small amount of Administration skill for me.  The tasks didn’t take long.  Once the clerical work had been seen to, I could finally look at my Adventurer class.

●   Level up, Adventurer

●   You have gained one perk

●   You may now select a Path.  Please review your unlocks

●   Your Hit Point total is increased by 10.  Your Stamina is increased by 10.

●   Level up, Cleric 6

●   +10 Hit Points, +10 Mana

●   You have gained one talent

I ignored the perk for now and scrolled down to the Path unlocks.  The Path was where the real power of the class was. 

The options were Arcane Trickster, Shadow Knife, and Explorer.  Each had its pros and cons, but I consulted my help menu first.

“Shart, are any of these Paths going to help me?  Like, will that Arcane Trickster let me use magic?” I asked, hoping he was going to pay attention now. 

Shart considered for a moment.  “Yes, but not in the way you hope.  Arcane Tricksters can use magic, but they don’t use magical cores.  It won’t help your Mage class.  The flip side is that they operate with low Mana.  You’d certainly be able to have some fun with it, considering your larger than usual Mana pool.”

I already had plenty of magic tricks, so I discounted that one.  Next was Shadow Knife, which was an Assassin that focused heavily on Shadow Melding.  That had some promise, but I was already pretty sneaky.  Plus, the Path steps all involved killing people for money.  Even O’Really wasn’t into that, was he?

That left Explorer.  I could already hear Indy’s theme in the background.  It focused on exploring areas, including dungeons, and was good at finding and avoiding traps.

“Plus, you’ve already completed the conditions for that Path,” said Shart.

“That, too,” I said.  Each Path had conditions that you had to complete to move steps down it.  Arcane Trickster required you to use some sort of magic to steal something.  I could probably manage that quite easily.  Shadow Knife needed you to flat out kill a target for money, without them ever even realizing you were there.

Explorer required you to explore a Dungeon.  It also needed me to avoid a challenging trap and find a rare item.  I had already accomplished one requirement for Arcane Trickster, zero from Shadow Knife, and all three from Explorer.  The choice seemed obvious.

“Maybe I’m not thinking about this hard enough,” I began considering an in-depth introspection of my class and all of its foibles.

“NOOOOOO,” screamed Badgelor.  “I can hear you, ya git!  I don’t want to hear this.  Shart is already in the corner weeping.”

“I’m not that bad,” I grumbled.

“You are. You spend hours trying to make up your mind, and you know what?  You already made up your mind when you first thought about it,” sobbed Shart.  “But you wax on about it for hours.”

“When he told me, I honestly didn’t believe him,” said Badgelor.  “I thought ‘No way is Jim that indecisive’, but, alas, the little zit was right.”

“He hummed a theme song,” sobbed Shart. 

Grumbling, I chose Explorer.

●   You have achieved the first step on your Path to becoming an Explorer!

●   Your Path is burnt into your soul.  No other Rogue Paths are available.

●   Your Path ability is now activated.  Your Great Explorer tree has been expanded.  All Talent Points are refunded.

I had been expecting something grander, honestly.  At least with Beast Lord, I’d gotten Badger Rage.  Dragging up my Great Explorer talent, I whistled.  There were many more options, and some of them were just flat buffs.

“This section just has Hit Points,” I said, looking at a talent chain that started at +20 Hit Points.  There was another that was a straight Dexterity increase.  Old favorites, like Explorer’s Nose were there, but they all seemed to start at the second-tier versions for first tier prices.

“That’s pretty normal for Path talent trees,” said Shart.  “You get Talent Points normally, but then you also get a few Path Specialization unlocks as you move up the Path.  You have one presently.”

Checking, I saw that I had nine Talent Points total.  I’d earned it all from leveling up and grinding my tree, I thought.  I also now had one Path Specialization unlock.  I examined the talents with that in mind and found only three specializations I could unlock.

●   Dungeon Delver: You are skilled at exploring in Dungeons. All talents, skills, and abilities operate as one rank higher in a Dungeon

●   Trap Master: You are uniquely skilled at traps.  All skills relating to traps are improved by one rank. 

●   Expeditionary Force: Your skill is so great that your companions all gain benefits from your leadership!  While they are in a party with you, all your allies gain synergy bonuses to their skills. 

That was strange. They all sounded nice, but none of the perks sounded amazing.  Then, I checked what was behind them.

“They all start new branches on the Great Explorer tree,” I said, looking at Trap Master.  It was pretty lackluster, but, behind it, several talents would allow me to customize my traps very well.  The specialization unlock’s main purpose, it seemed, was to allow you access to a vast number of specialized talents.  Once I started assigning points, I was going to have to use some degree of caution. 

First, I selected all the previous talents I’d had with Great Explorer.  Then, I chose the first Hit Point talent, stupendously named Hit Point I.  I still had three Talent Points, along with one new power I could unlock.

Each of the unlocks offered good bonuses.  Expeditionary Force was the most practical.  I spent a lot of time walking around.  One of the talents behind Expeditionary Force was Hiking Leader.  It meant that everyone in my party could keep up with me.  The second unlock involved traps.  Traps were always useful, especially given my propensity to walk into danger.  The third, Dungeon Delver, would provide power when I needed it the most. 

Dungeons were dangerous.  Making them less risky would be the most beneficial in the long run.  I selected Dungeon Delver.  Immediately, the powers behind it unlocked, showing a whole other branch of talents. 

I decided to leave two of the points unallocated for the moment.  However, one of the talents, Danger Sense, caught my eye, and I selected it.  Most of the Dungeon Delver talents were dungeon-focused, but not all of them.  Some, like Danger Sense, just made you more likely to spot ambushes. 

Next, I flipped back over to my perk choices.  I realized that I needed to delve as deeply into the trees as I possibly could.  Doing so would give me the maximum benefit of the perks.  Looking at my perk trees, I saw one called Evasive Movement.  It required both Evasion and Mobility as prerequisites. 

Evasive Movement expanded the kinds of spells I could avoid with Evasion.  It also made my Mobility more effective and less costly.  The only issue was that I had to be wearing light armor while using it.  Glancing through my Warrior Tree, I realized I was only two perks away from something that let me treat Medium Armor as Light Armor. 

I can make this work.

Selecting Evasive Movement, I felt my Mobility and Evasion perks meld together into something more significant.  I grinned.  This was going to be an exciting trip!

Chapter 19 – Interesting day on the road

“This is incredibly boring,” stated Julia, as we watched the world slowly inch past us.  It was our second full day on the road.  It had only been a week since I’d fought Charles.  Three days couped up in the Hall of Souls, though that seemed to be some trick of time. After I got out, I respawned in that lodge, which led me to sleep in the cave.  Then, there was that delightful trek through Drop Bear country that led to a waterfall, followed by another night in the woods.  That had been followed by a boring walk down the river to the nameless town, where our one night in a decent bed was cut short.  We ran until we found the caravan and my new friend, the hammock. 

I picked a splinter from my cheek and turned to speak to the princess.  Julia had come up to the driver’s cabin to see what I was up to, and RonJared had politely suggested we sit on the roof.  Ordinal didn’t have a sexist “no ladies in the driver’s cabin” rule, but RonJared had a “don’t bother me while I’m driving” rule.  He was pretty strict about it, when he remembered it.  I honestly thought it was due to the small cabin heating up when it got overcrowded.  The view was better on the roof, anyway.

The roof of the wagon was lumpy.  The Caravanner’s Wagon might have been about as long as a semi-trailer, but it was a good deal taller.  Its height grew even more, once all the cargo was strapped down and tarped over.  All the goods and their coverings made the top uneven but served to create lots of nooks and crannies.  There were perfect spots to sit and look around.  Some even offered a tiny bit of privacy.

“Did you tend to everyone?” I asked, as Julia arched her spine, stretching.  She caught me looking and straightened up with a smirk. 

“Yes, healing them up was easy enough.  I’m a Zealot, after all,” she replied.  “I had to go slowly, so no one would figure out what I was doing.”

“Wait, an Acolyte can cast spells?” I asked.

Julia looked at me for a long moment.  “I can’t tell if you are being serious or not.”

“I’m from the sticks,” I replied.  That had gotten me out of more trouble in Windfall than I’d care to remember. 

“Well, then, I guess I’d better tell you.  That way you won’t go around asking embarrassing questions.”  She smiled and leaned up against some of the tied-down goods.  “Acolytes are Professional people who work at temples.  They have a bit of Divine magic, but usually no more than 2 or 3 spells.  They also have almost no Mana.”

“So, if you have an Acolyte, you don’t need a Healer?” I asked.

“Oh no,” she replied, “A traditional Healer knows a lot about potions and poultices, as well as how to treat injuries without magic.  Mainly, though, they are much cheaper.  An adventurer might be able to afford an Acolyte to heal every little injury.  Everyone else saves their coin and uses a Healer.”

There was that divide again.  That wasn’t how I wanted Windfall to work. I wanted to take care of everyone.  Then, I thought of Jarra.  Jarra always led me back to Charles.  It had been a week since Jarra died.  I needed to kill Charles.  I needed to focus on what was important.  Jim would have taken care of the people first.  Jim was a chump who just naively assumed that if you were hero enough, everything would work out.  That’s how Jarra died.  I needed to bury Jim. 

“Are they going to get suspicious?” I asked, gesturing to the back of the wagon.  We weren’t the only ones with the idea of sitting on the roof.  At the moment, about two-thirds of the caravan’s population was riding with us. 

“Nah,” smiled Julia, laying back down closer to me, her head nearly resting on my lap.  “Most people don’t know how slowly an Acolyte recovers Mana.  They just think I’m an expert rank or something.”

“That’s a bit close, don’t you think?” I asked, and Julia grinned.

“You are supposed to be my fiancé.  Little things like this keep people from asking questions,” she yawned.  “Besides, it's nice and warm, and I get tired after lunch.”

She went to sleep right there, using me for shade and a fold in the tarp for a blanket.  I used the time to check on Windfall.  Nothing had changed. I talked to Shart, and nothing had changed.  I contacted Badgelor, but he was gruff with me.  I decided to leave him alone. 

So overland travel really doesn’t agree with him.

I looked down at Julia, who was still sleeping, and tried to come up with a plan.  After we summoned Shart back, I needed to level back up to 60 and arm myself appropriately.  I carved another baseball bat, but I would need something like the greatest baseball bat ever made to kill Charles.  I was about to ask Shart about magical weapons when Badgelor finally responded. 

“What do you need?” he huffed.  At any range, I could usually point toward Badgelor.  This time, he seemed to be everywhere and nowhere.  I couldn’t tell how far away he was.  I brought up my map to confirm, but he didn’t show up there, either. 

“Just checking in on you,” I replied.

“Well, I’m busy.  Try again later,” growled the badger and cut me off. 

I paused. Badgelor cut me off.  Part of me was mildly upset that I’d been dismissed so quickly.  Then again, if Badgelor could cut me off, I could cut Badgelor off.  Or, better still, I could cut off other annoying observers.  I didn’t mind Shart as much anymore, but the lack of privacy was an issue.  I mean, sometimes you had to do your business.  Nothing was less enjoyable while on the squatty potty than a demon screaming in your ear. 

Every single time.

“Shart, I can’t track Badgelor on my map,” I stated.

“I don’t know why you’d want to anyway,” Shart responded.  I sighed.  They really were like squabbling siblings.  Shart harrumphed before continuing, “At this range, I wouldn’t expect you to be able to track him.  Badgelor just left Windfall.  Without your ring, your maximum range is ten stupid Earth miles.  Badgelor is nowhere near that close.”

“Could I make another ring of Mental Bonds?” I asked.  That ring had expanded my range by 50%, and I was kind of upset that I’d lost it.

“You’d need a pretty high-quality ring, some crystals, and some herbs for the ink,” replied Shart. 

I pulled out a ring ornamented with an elaborate gemstone.  “This is of good quality.  I have crystals in my dimensional storage, and I can find the herbs.”

“You need to get into your dimensional storage,” stated Shart. 

“I’m guessing there is a Clerical spell for that?” I asked.

“You get it at level 8,” replied the demon. 

“Well, then, I’d better get started,” I said, scratching symbols into the ring.  Rune Crafting was calming, and, since I already knew the runes it was easy to get them scratched into the ring.  I watched for caravan-related prompts while scratching the marks, but it was a lazy day.  I’d already assigned everything. 

The stretch of road was quiet and peaceful.  As I finished the last mark, I yawned.  Looking down at Julia, who was peacefully snuggled up against my leg, I stretched out.  Looking up at the sky, I felt more relaxed than I had in days.

I dozed off, vividly imagining the hundred ways I wanted to kill Charles. 

Chapter 20 – Once Again into the Breach

I snorted awake at the sound of two men fighting.  Julia was glaring at me.  As she got up, she hissed, “You are a terrible bodyguard.”

“Hush,” I said, moving to the front of the wagon.  Cole was yelling up at RonJared, who had his head sticking out the open window at the front of the cabin.  It was kind of a funny scene, more so with me hanging off the roof trying to eavesdrop.  Given the volume of their voices, it was not a hard task.

“We can’t go around saving everyone,” yelled RonJared, blocking the oxen from moving forward.

“We have been coming to this town for years.  I’m not going to sit by while they plunder it,” replied Cole. 

That was none of my business.  I rolled back up, looked at Julia, and swore inwardly.  She was glaring at the two arguing men.  Then, she shifted to look at me with her devil eyes. 

“There are bandits, yes, actual bandits, ransacking the town.  It was supposed to be our next stop,” stated Julia.  “Cole wants to fight them off.  RonJared wants to slink away like a coward.”

“RonJared doesn’t want to risk his men.  That's the smart thing to do,” I stated, standing to get a better look in the village.  I could easily make out twenty or so bandits attacking the villagers.  “If we go in, our people will get killed.  We shouldn’t risk it.”

“We shouldn’t risk it?” growled Julia.  “People are dying!  We are adventurers!  Saving people is the sort of thing adventurers do.”

●   Quest:  Save the town of Imola.  Bandits have beset the town of Imola.  You must save the town!  Will you accept? <Yes/No> 

I selected “No,” before turning to Julia.  “I’m not risking it, either.  I have something important to do, and I’m not going to go off half-cocked on every quest offered to me.”

Julia glared at me.  “I thought better of you than this.  I even got you a weapon.”  She gestured to where a poor-quality longsword sat. 

“You can’t save everyone,” I said, leaning back.

“We could save these people,” replied Julia.  I felt a trickle of shame at that, but only a trickle.  I remembered golden hair falling into nothingness.

Cole pleaded for another moment.  People were dying, and they were doing nothing.  Julia glared at me.  I focused on keeping my body loose.  I zoned out.  I was done playing hero.  When I played hero, people died. 

Julia inhaled sharply and then started climbing down the wagon to talk to Cole and RonJared.  I sat for a long moment, looking up at the stars.  I can’t save everyone.

“Good,” stated Shart, “You got over your stupid heroic phase.  We need to focus on what’s important, killing Charles.”

“Yes,” I said, letting Shart’s words convince me.  Jim was over the stupid hero and he was retired.  I was just going to look out for number one and focus on killing Charles.  Turning my head, I watched the village for a long moment.  My high Perception allowed me to hear the screams, see the fires, and watch those men destroy the little town. 

Then, I saw a little girl running.  She couldn’t have been more than six or seven years old.  She was fleeing so fast that her golden hair, the tips tinged red, flew out behind her.  Quickly gaining on her was a large man, carrying a bloody sword.

It wasn’t a conscious decision.  Later, I couldn’t even remember how I got off the roof of the wagon.  The next moment, I was flying in a red haze.  I wasn’t as powerful as I had been in the dungeon, but it would be enough.  I landed in a roll, coming to my feet more quickly, thanks to my enhanced Mobility. 

At the last moment, the bandit noticed me.  I executed a Hack and Slash on him.  He parried the first strike and followed up with a counter on my second.  I bent around the counterblow with my newfound agility, which left me with two more strikes.  I delivered them to either side of his neck.

●   Hack and Slash: Two successful hits, 54 Damage total, +20 Damage per second bleed effect for the next 14 seconds. Carotid Artery severed X 2. 

His blood covered my whole face, as I dropped my poor-quality longsword.  I picked up the bandit’s much higher quality weapon, while the man attempted to drink a healing potion.  I snatched the potion from his hand and shoved it into my pouch, all while searching for a second target.

I quickly found one, as another bandit chased after a young man.  The would-be victim was desperately trying to escape but was running out of options.  His pursuer laughed heartily, right up until I attacked him.  Driving my stolen sword through the unsuspecting bandit’s guts, he suddenly found himself nailed into a wooden post behind him. 

●   Thrust: Sneak Attack! Base Damage 35 X 3 for Sneak Attack!  Target has suffered internal bleeding, 3 points per second.  Severed spine effect, permanent paralysis from the waist down.

The second bandit began making some startling choking noises, as he struggled to get at his healing potion.  I doubted it would have done much good.  I stole the potion from him with my Quick Steal perk and picked up his sword.  He must have dropped it from the force of being rammed into the post.  The bandit attempted to pull himself loose, but I kicked the sword that skewered him.  The weapon angled down, leaving him screaming.  His body slumped over the sharp blade and stopped moving.

I found three more pillagers outside a nearby barn. They had forced the door shut and were trying to get the barn to burn with people trapped inside.  I landed in the middle of them and executed a Cleave.  All three men and five arms moved back.  The sixth arm fell at my feet in another spray of blood. 

Suddenly, an arrow slammed into my shoulder.  As I turned around, two more caught me in the chest.  Several bandits, armed with longbows, had found me when I was too enraged to notice them.  A crack formed in my fury, as I suddenly took stock of the area around me.  I remembered a long time ago, when goblins had seen me in a tree and shot me with arrows.  They had nearly crippled me. 

●   Arrow: Damage base 33.  Breakdown 25 Damage, 8 Piercing Damage, Defense Penetration: 8. Total Damage: 5

I hadn’t expected those arrows to do any Damage.  A quick review of my logs showed that they were using Penetrating arrowheads, which ignored a certain amount of your Defense.  I still had Mitigate, but Mitigate relied on your armor as much as your skill.  I couldn’t Mitigate 8 points of Damage without heavier armor. 

More arrows flew at me, but they were no longer an issue.  Now that I was paying attention, my heightened Mobility reduced the Volley penalty I’d previously experienced to manageable levels.  I Dodged the remainder of the arrows, until the bandits got fed up with my shenanigans.  They tossed their bows and charged at me, trying to pen me in on all sides. 

Cleave was still on cooldown, so, as they closed, I executed a Hack and Slash.  At my current rank, I could manage five strikes.  Each slash successfully landed, even as several of their strikes hit me in return. 

One might question the decision to allow them to strike my person with their sharp swords, so I’ll explain.

The generic type of damage on Ordinal was just called Damage.  You got it from falling a few feet or stubbing your toe.  A sword, competently wielded, caused Damage and Slashing Damage, which was much more potent.  A truly skilled fighter could cause Severing Damage, which was virtually guaranteed to cause a terrible wound. 

When the bandits attacked me, most of their damage was just Damage.  Some caused Slashing Damage, but only a minuscule amount.  All my damage was Slashing Damage, except for the bits that were Severing Damage. 

In short, point for point, my damage was far more serious than theirs.

●   Bandit A suffers 19 points of Damage (17 Slashing, 2 Severing) Bandit A suffers a bleeding wound for 8 points a second for 6 seconds.  Bandit A’s right hand is Severed.

●   Bandit B suffers 18 points of Damage!  Bandit B’s left hand is Severed.

●   Bandit C suffers 20 points of Damage!  Bandit C’s right hand is Severed.

●   Bandit D suffers 19 points of Damage!  Bandit D’s Right Shoulder is Crippled.

●   Bandit E suffers 22 points of Damage!  Bandit E is Blinded.

●   You have suffered (5) 20 point attacks, taking 5 damage.  12 Slashing Damage - no additional effects.

All five bandits fell backward, screaming.  By now, the rest of the posse had realized that something was very wrong.  I didn’t know how many had invaded, but I’d broken them.  The fact that I heard Cole and his soldiers charging into the village probably helped.  I caught sight of Julia, blasting one of the bandits with a Holy Bolt.  Some of the raiders were wise and simply fled. Others tried to escape while carrying various kinds of booty.  That only served to slow them down. 

One bandit was carrying a young woman across a bridge.  I didn't want to consider what the bandit’s purpose for kidnapping was.  Fortunately, I didn’t have to.  I used Flash Steps to close the distance.  Executing a Thrust, I jammed my blade through his spine.  He laboriously wheezed in a gasp, leading me to assume I had punctured one of his lungs.  As he fell forward, I reached for the woman.  The man kept his grip, determined to carry on with his dastardly desires.  We all fell from the bridge, plunging into the ice-cold water below.

●   Level up, Cleric 7

●   Your Hit Point total is increased by 10.  Your Mana is increase by 10. 

●   Your Hit Points have increased, your maximum Hit Points are now 460

●   You Mana has increased, your Maximum Mana is now 120. 

●   You have gained a perk!

The cold snapped me from my rage.  All the fury simply flowed out of me, as the icy water lapped around my body.  I pushed back to the surface.  The young woman had already gotten herself untangled and was floating next to me.  Her eyes held shock and wonder, as she gazed at my various injuries.  She reached out her hand to touch me.

“Grebthar?”

Groaning inwardly, I ducked back under the water and swam for nearly a minute.  While swimming in the frigid water, I distracted myself by checking my character sheet.  It was a good thing I did.  When I’d stupidly charged the bandits, my name had changed from O’Really to Jim, the mayor of Windfall.

Growling, I changed it back, before I resurfaced closer to the road.  I had cast Renew on myself, so I was clean and fully healed by the time I emerged.  I cast Endure Elements, which had the side effect of making the moisture clinging to me slosh away. 

I activated Shadow Walker and slunk back to the wagon.  Leaping back to my perch, I slumped down and found a spot to hide my new sword.  I spent a few moments casting Mend on my garment and the hole I’d made in the tarp.  The garment was already in such poor condition that it didn’t matter much.  The tarp, on the other hand, looked fine.  You couldn’t even tell I had hidden a stolen weapon within it. 

I’ve got to stop doing this.

There was scrambling to my side, and I turned to see Julia climbing up the wagon.  She stormed over to me, nearly tripping on the hidden sword.  She tossed down the old sword she’d found for me, the one I’d used on the first bandit. 

“The villagers are saying Grebthar appeared in the flesh and started killing bandits,” she said, glaring at me.  “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“No,” I lied.

“So, it wasn’t you?” she asked, grabbing at my shirt.  It was thankfully dry due to the spell I had cast. 

“No, I’m not a hero anymore,” I replied. 

“Tell that to the village. Whoever charged in there saved twenty people from being burned alive in a barn,” replied Julia.  “The barn was ready to light.  Cole couldn’t have gotten there fast enough to save them.”

I closed my eyes. 

Julia said nothing for a long moment.  “Fine, be that way.  Just so you know, Grebthar’s heroics have caused at least thirty people from that village to ask to join our caravan.”

“Feck.”

You unimaginable, fucking imbecile.  I heard the words in my head, but even I couldn’t tell if they were my own thoughts or Shart’s. 

Chapter 21 – Room to Grow on the Open Road

●  Caravan: Rank 2

●  Vehicles: Grand Caravanner's Wagon (1/2)

●  Population: 68

●   You have gained a Rank in the Caravanner subskill.  You may now apply a Caravan perk to the caravan!

●   Perk selected: Improved Movement +10%.  You will travel 10% faster. 

“They will not all fit on the wagon,” I groaned, looking first at the new people coming with us and then at Julia.  She frowned at me.

“Leave pilgrims?” she retorted hotly, looking at me like I was a bug.  “We can make room.” 

I glanced over to RonJared, who shook his head.  “They are going to have to walk.  We can rotate them onto the wagon in shifts, but the people who LIVE on the wagon aren’t going to give up their slots.”

“We could just get another wagon,” stated Julia.

“I’m sure a random wagon is just going to love the idea of joining up with us and taking a bunch of strangers on board.  Let me try,” I said, jumping to the top of the Caravanner’s Wagon.  We were on the Silverado; there were a few decent-sized wagons nearby.  My yelling was boosted by War Leader, so I could be heard at a 25% greater range than normal.  “Hey, I’m a Caravanner!  I need a second wagon for our trip to the Vineyards.  We have a bunch of Pilgrims with us!  Any takers?”

There was silence for a second.  I looked down at Julia and shrugged, before someone yelled, “Is there a quest?”

I inhaled to begin my reply but cut myself off.  I hadn’t checked.

There was silence for a second.  I looked down at Julia and shrugged, before someone yelled, “Is there a quest?”

I inhaled to begin my reply but cut myself off.  I hadn’t checked.

●   Quest: Add a second wagon to your caravan, 100 Skill Points.

“Yes,” I replied lamely.  We got four requests to join the caravan.  Julia tried not to say, “I told you so.”  I could read it in her eyes, though.  She so loved being right.  That fact seemed universal among women. 

That left me with a choice as to which wagon to bring.  RonJared threw up his hands. Even in a caravan, he only cared about his wagon, so I was free to make a choice for our second.  The first candidate was a merchant’s wagon.  He sold stuff.  As I looked at him, I noticed a ping in my menus.

●   Merchant’s Wagon: Expert Merchant will grant the caravan a +9% boost to the price of all goods sold.

That was kind of handy.  I checked out the other wagons.  There was a food truck. . .er, food wagon that granted us a bonus on how long food stayed fresh.  There was also a Cobbler.  It would give a bonus on the Durability of our shoes.  Finally, there was an Enchanter.

“You sell enchanted items?” I asked.  The Enchanter lowered his book, raised his eyebrows, and lifted his spectacles.  He placed the glasses on the top of his short-cropped, white, curly hair.

“A doy,” he replied, putting his glasses back down and raising his book. 

Had he not been an Enchanter, I would have left at that point.  However, his shop was just too full of useful gizmos and widgets.  I decided to keep calm, for now.  At least, that’s what I told myself, while I counted to twenty-seven. 

I looked at his name tag.  “Hubert, do you not want to come with us in the caravan?”

“No, I just don’t like being asked stupid questions,” he replied, holding his book higher. 

“Fine, why should we invite you to accompany us?” I asked calmly.  Semi-calmly.  Almost calmly. I wasn’t going to kill him.  He had fun toys.

“I’m an Enchanter,” he said, not even bothering to look up from his book this time.  “Everyone wants to bring an Enchanter, and you have a +10% movement speed that I wouldn’t mind having.”

“Is that it?” I asked.  Maybe it was worth looking into the food truck. 

“Of course, that’s it. I want to join the caravan.  I get a bonus on movement speed.  You get access to some of my enchantments and the general buff an enchanting cart grants.  Everyone is happy,” he huffed.  I wasn’t sure he had stopped reading at any point while making his pronouncement.

●                    Enchanter’s Wagon: Expert Enchanter will grant the caravan a +9% boost on overall Durability.

“What kind of toys?” I asked.

Hubert exhaled loudly, put his book down, and fixed his face with the most fake-looking smile I’d ever seen.  He began speaking like a carnival barker, “Howdy, pilgrim!  If you look behind me, you’ll see all the wonders of the world!”

He grabbed a small cup.  “Thirsty?” As he held the cup, it began slowly filling with water. 

“Perhaps you have a pair of pants that need mended?”  He produced a needle and a torn piece of fabric.  Hubert deftly started stitching, the thread magically appearing as he sewed.  In moments, the pants looked good as new with no evidence of being sewn at all.

“Is someone bothering you, asking stupid questions?” he asked, pulling out a small horn with a squeeze ball attachment.  He pointed it at me and squeezed.

●   You have been Silenced for 90 seconds.

“I think I love Hubert,” Shart sighed in my head. 

Hubert smiled smarmily and sat back down.  I used my Counterspell skill to break his spell.

“Nice tricks,” I stated.

Hubert frowned and looked at his horn, pointing it at his face.  He squeezed the ball, then looked back at me angrily.  I think he started yelling.  I couldn’t hear him.

I invited him to accompany us when there was about five seconds left of his spell.  He glared at me for about ten seconds before accepting. 

“I need better wheels.  Figure out a price,” I said, turning back to my wagon.  Hubert was quiet for a moment, so I decided to check on my former shoulder mate.

“Shart, what’s up ahead?” I asked.  I brought up my menus and started to look at my perks.  It was past time I assigned those perks and talents.

“You will reach an actual city tonight, if you keep going,” stated Shart.  “If you hadn’t been an idiot, you’d have some extra coin to spend when you got there.”

I had left the last village in a hurry, without even telling anyone I’d been involved in the battle.  That meant that I had received none of the treasure from the fight.  Several of the caravan guards were now wielding higher quality swords, taken from the bandits.  While it was all seriously under my level, it also represented actual equipment.  I was still wearing regular clothes. 

There was that sword I had taken, but how would I explain that to anyone?  Normal people didn’t walk around with swords.  Further I couldn’t explain where I had gotten the sword without letting everyone know I had been at the battle, or I’d stolen it.  If I could get some money in the next town, I could probably buy a sword. 

What I needed was some wood to make toys. 

I walked over to the side of the road, next to the wagon.  Scanning for something I could salvage, I brought up my character sheet.  My name was currently listed as O’Really, but Jim was right next to it, like an albatross around my neck. 

“Why did the <system> decide I was Jim again?” I asked Shart.

“Probably because you were doing something heroic.  O’Really isn’t much of a heroic sort of a guy,” stated Shart.  “The <system> will change your name and title to whoever your actions are most associated with.  When you start acting all heroic, you revert to Jim, the mayor of Windfall.” 

Great, even the <system> was out to get me.

“Badgelor, how are you managing?” I asked, looking around.

“I’m sleeping, ya git.  Some nice folks let me ride on their wagon,” he announced. 

He was always so polite.  I snagged a hatchet as I walked by a wagon and headed off into the woods.  I couldn’t just use my Salvage skill on a tree.  That would be too easy.  I needed to cut off a branch and then use Carpentry to turn that wood into blocks I could use. 

My hopeful cheat of using Hack and Slash with the hatchet didn’t work out very well.  Hack and Slash allowed me to swing up to five times, but I was trained to use swords, not axes.  Activating the skill got me a rather impressive error prompt, which I ignored.  I flailed wildly at the tree, like a psycho, fervently hoping that no one was watching. 

I wasted precious time recovering the hatchet, which, after a particularly aggressive swing, had gotten stuck in a branch halfway up a nearby tree.  Next, I tried Powerful Blow, but that was a bust.  I only had one rank of Powerful Blow for Axe-type weapons, which I’d earned from nearly breaking the hatchet on a tree branch. 

With no other options, I had to use my Lumberjack skill.  Fortunately, it was at Initiate rank.  Unfortunately, Lumberjack took a while to use and was pretty draining on my Stamina.  What I had hoped to do in seconds ended up taking me the better part of ten minutes.  I managed to hack off a decent-sized limb before being notified that I was out of the caravan’s range.  I gathered my wood and rushed back.

Julia watched me come out of the woods.  She was strolling beside Hubert’s wagon, trying to keep the children in check.  They were taking turns jumping on and off the Enchanter’s wagon.  Most people were still walking, but enough had crowded onto the wagons to make them uncomfortable.  Hubert looked pissed that people were riding on his wagon.  I mollified him by assigning all the children to the Caravanner’s Wagon. 

“Thanks,” said Julia, leading all the children forward. 

“If you’d waited too much longer, there would have been a tragic accident,” stated Shart sadly. 

“I know,” I replied.  I knew why he was sad. 

RonJared had gotten us moving with our new cohort wagon in tow.  Surrounding our wagon train was a host of eager people following along, hoping to see Grebthar, the hero, again.  The wayward group seemed to grow continuously.  I walked over to Cole.

“These pilgrims are going to make the trip more complicated,” I said.

“Well, shoot,” stated Cole, grinning, “You don’t live by the road.  Here, in Falcon, we all say ‘Howdy, pilgrim’ if we see someone, and we help them on the best we can.”

Suddenly, I was in Utah, and they were all on a mission.  They had all brought their own supplies or money to buy supplies.  The rates for traveling cross-country with a caravan were extremely cheap.  It wasn’t so much that they were a permanent part of the caravan, but they were headed our way and would stay with us until we reached their destination.  Safety in numbers. 

All things considered, they didn’t bother me very much.  The extra people were mostly walking.  The ones that rode did so on unused parts of the wagons.  Then, I noticed, for this large a group, everything had grown suspiciously quiet.  I decided to go to my desk and investigate. 

“I have made a mistake,” I said, realizing something.  I looked down the hallway full of children.  Some fool had placed the kids in my wagon to keep them contained.  What I believed to be just a few children had expanded, like a gas, and were occupying every available location.  They were jumping on boxes, running around, and doing everything short of causing real havoc.  They were also being very, very noisy.

“Whatever you’re doing sounds like an absolute nightmare,” Shart remarked. 

When I finally got to my desk, I saw two little girls sitting in the driver’s compartment, talking to RonJared.  He was patiently speaking to them.  It sounded like he was explaining how the wagon worked, and what jobs people had to do.  I was almost mollified into a sense of complacency, until RonJared smelled a traitor.  He looked over, glaring at me.  It was the expression of someone whose man cave had been despoiled.  It was clear that my presence was not welcome.  Grumbling, I took a ladder and climbed to the roof, avoiding about a dozen children in the process. 

Losing access to my desk meant that I couldn’t work on any caravan business.  Shucks.  I plopped down and started carving my branch into blocks of wood.  The kids on the roof were interested for about three seconds.  Then, they turned back to inspect the far more interesting oxen.  One of the animals was in the process of taking a massive dump on the road. 

It was kind of funny.

There were three Talent Points I hadn’t assigned to either of my Domains yet.  I figured now or never.  I cast Heightened Senses first, just to see what it did. 

The effects were different than what I’d expected.  I thought Heightened Senses was some sort of zoomed-in vision, but it was more like going from HD to 4K.  Everything was just a bit too sharp.  Because of that effect, I could see things I would have otherwise missed.  It reminded me of the time I watched Prince of Peoria in 4K instead of HD.  The handsome king was amazing, but his monkey really could have used some additional time with the groomers.  Without 4K, I would have never noticed. 

With my new outlook, I was seeing things I hadn’t seen before.  For example, I saw the small pile of wooden garbage at the side of the road.  It would have been perfect for my salvage skill.  I glanced down at my blocks and decided it was too late now.

Next, I checked the Divination talent tree. Many of the talents on it just enhanced Heightened Senses.  There was a talent that made herbs or animals visible from longer ranges.  If you selected the animal talent, there was one for monsters later in the chain.  It was tempting, but then I noticed that each new level significantly increased the spell's Mana cost.  I reviewed it and whistled

●   Heighten Senses: You gain increased perception from your senses.  Compatible with the Perception skill.  Cost 50 Mana, channeled. 

Fifty Mana was a bit extreme.  Casting it channeled meant that I didn’t recover any Mana while using it.  It only took a few minutes for my Mana pool to recover, but I wasn’t going to be casting much while Heighten Senses was active.  In other words, it was an out-of-combat spell. 

I saw a few talents I was truly considering.  Magical Fonts let you find powerful magical sources.  Mana Sight let you see Mana, which I could only see through a Mana Control trick I knew.  Finally, I found that I could take Heightened Senses II.

●   Heightened Senses II: Reduces the cost of the spell by 15, duration: 30 seconds, Channeled. 

I considered what that meant for a moment.  Many of the terms Divine magic used were interchangeable with terms Arcane magic used.  There was a degree of commonality between the two.  I could probably use my Arcane knowledge to determine what my Divine spells did.

●   You have discovered Divine Lore:  Your knowledge of Divine magic has expanded greatly!  You know secrets only known to the gods!

“Did you just pick up Divine Lore?” Shart groaned.  “Magical secrets known only to the most wizened of sages and you.”

“It was technically an accident.  I was thinking about Divine magic,” I defended.

“That doesn’t make it any better,” replied Shart.  “If anything, it makes it substantially worse.”

“I’m surprised there isn’t a group skill, like a Magical Lore,” I stated.  I actually sighed when nothing appeared.

“It's called Mystical Lore, Dum Dum,” stated Shart. 

●   You have discovered Mystical Lore:  Your knowledge of various subsystems of magic have culminated with you learning the most challenging of all Magical Lore skills.  Congratulations!  By achieving level 0 in all primary casting classes, you have successfully unlocked this rare skill. 

●   With your current ranks in Arcane Lore, Divine Lore, Primal Lore, and Psychic Lore, your new skill level will be Unskilled.  <error> Minimum skill rank is Initiate.  Your new rank will be Initiate in Mystical Lore!  All further Skill Point gains will be granted to Mystical Lore. 

I coughed.  Shart said nothing for a long moment.

“I counted to 100.  I’m good now,” he finally responded.

“Somehow, I’m sure this is all my fault,” I grumbled, going back to my new spells. 

“Everything is your fault,” growled Shart. 

My Mystical Lore fired up, supplying a definition of channeling.  If I cast Heightened Senses channeled, the spell would last until I stopped channeling it.  With a duration of 30 seconds, when I stopped channeling Heightened Senses, the spell would last 30 seconds.  If I channeled the spell for an hour, it would actually last an hour and 30 seconds. 

“What about magical fonts?” I asked innocently. 

“What, Dum Dum?” replied the demon absently.  Then, he gasped.  “Wait!  Magical fonts are places of power that you can attune.  They can grant you great boons, depending on what they actually are.”

“Neat,” I said, but Shart shushed me.

“The <system> governs fonts.  I could cheat with them,” continued the demon excitedly.

“Cheat?  How?” I asked.

“Your Max Level!  I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out how to code around it, but your soul just isn’t powerful enough to sustain more levels.  If I can link you to a bunch of places of power, then I can make your soul more powerful.  I can bump up your Max Level!” stated Shart.  “I’m brilliant.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.  “So, I should take the talent?”

“Yes, you nitwit,” grumbled the demon.  “Wait a second.  What about your new Mystical Lore skill?”

“I am just asking questions.  What is the downside, little buddy?” I asked in a stilted manner.  I had already decided to take the talent, but, with Shart, there was always a downside.

“Well, you aren’t going to get the boon from the Font,” stated Shart cautiously, before coughing, “Neither is anyone else.”

“I’m not smart, remember?  Please, explain that to me,” I said.

“Well, we are going to have to drain the Fonts to empower you,” stated Shart, growing more confident.  “After you drain them, they aren’t going to have any power left for anything else, like granting a boon.  Don’t worry.  Once I get back home, I can fix that in a maintenance cycle.” 

“What happens to me?” I asked.  “Will I lose Max Levels?”

“No, I’ll find some new power from elsewhere,” replied Shart.  “Plenty of unused fonts around Ordinal.”

“Excellent, it's great that I have someone like you to help me out,” I said appreciatively.  Shart was bad at recognizing when someone was laying it on thick, but I really needed him to fail his Sense BS check. 

My new skill, Mystical Lore, was great at figuring out some complicated parts of magic.  However, Shart brought much more practical experience to the table.  Most of the information I was getting with Mystical Lore involved specifics of how magic worked, like magical fonts being power sources tied to the <system>.  It did not provide me with any knowledge of what I could do with that information.

I selected Magical Fonts and Mana Sight, for good measure.  Those two upgrades increased the cost of my Heightened Senses spell to 70 Mana, which was most of my supply.  I only had two Talent Points left over, and I hadn’t even checked out my Regeneration Domain.

Looking through Regeneration, I discovered it worked similarly.  I could buy talents that made Renew better.  There was one talent for making Renew work on injuries.  Much further up the chain, a talent made Renew work in combat.  However, I needed five other talents before I got there. 

In order, the talents were:

●   Affect Injury: Renew will also heal injuries

●   Renew II: Renew Base healing increased to 3, gains channeled

●   Regeneration: Renew II becomes Regeneration

●   Fast Regeneration: You now heal crippling injuries 10 times faster.

●   Combat Regeneration: Regeneration loses Out-of-Combat condition.

That could be incredibly powerful, if I threw all my points into it.  Right now, Renew did not heal injuries, so I had to take at least the first point.  Renew II didn’t sound impressive, unless you understood how channeling worked.  I could just leave the spell active, as long as I was not in combat, at the cost of all my Mana recovery. 

Regeneration was useful, though.  I already had a weak form of regeneration through my bond with Badgelor.  It took forever to repair any severe injury, though, as it used my natural Hit Point recovery.  When I’d lost my fingers, it required thousands of points of natural healing to recover them.  Spinal injuries were even worse.  Being able to pour Mana into Regeneration meant I would recover within days, instead of months. 

Regeneration would let me cast a channeled spell.  I would be able to regrow entire lost limbs rather quickly.  The idea of being stuck on Ordinal with my arms and legs hacked off was a fear of mine, as was being blind.

If I kept on going down the tree, Fast Regeneration reduced the time from days to hours.  Combat Regeneration was the apex power, though.  It would let me maintain my healing in combat, at the cost of my Mana Regeneration. 

Of course, the higher tier talents required more Talent Points to acquire.  Combat Regeneration costs five Talent Points by itself.  Everything past that, including Renew II, needed more than one. 

“Did you expect them to all only cost one point?” asked Shart. 

“I suppose not,” I considered.  Combat Regeneration would be massively useful as a spell.  Naturally, it required me to expend more Talent Points.  “I’m surprised that more people don’t just save their talents and buy Combat Regeneration as soon as they can.”

Shart said nothing for a long moment. I got the distinct impression he was counting to ten.  “Dum Dum, do you think you can buy Combat Regeneration at level 1?”

“Oh,” I replied dumbly.  “What level do you normally have to be?”

“Without your UnBound trait, you would have to be level 55 to purchase that particular spell upgrade,” replied Shart. 

“So, I should definitely save up to buy it,” I said.

“Indubitably,” replied the demon. 

None of the other paths looked that attractive, so I invested two Talent Points into my Domain.  I was now the proud owner of Renew II.

Next, I tried to figure out what to do with my Clerical perks.  I was looking as deeply into the trees as I possibly could.  I found an option quickly enough.  Resist Disease was an entry-tier perk, but higher up in the perk tree was Disease Immunity.  While I’d never been sick on Ordinal, assurance that I never would be was nice.

I broke out of my menus right around the same time I finished my blocks.  Several bored children had gathered around me and were building a castle.

“We are bored, O’Really,” said one of the kids.  His name was Nick, as was another one of the boys.

“I thought you couldn’t have duplicate names,” I grumbled to Shart.

“They don’t. There are seven Nicks in my trackable area.  Each one has a unique name. They just stick on a few different middle names in Falcon,” replied Shart.  I looked at Nick again.  His name expanded greatly, until it was longer than he was.  Julia got off lightly, with only five names. 

“I’m going to make some toys,” I said.

“These blocks are fun,” said one of the girls.  I glanced around.  The four kids that had been there earlier had multiplied to nine.  My carefully hoarded blocks took the form of a castle, a dollhouse, and something else resembling a ‘pile.’ 

“What do I need to do to get those blocks back?” I asked.

“Tell us a story,” one of the girls said.

Well, that was easy enough.  With us traveling forward with few interruptions, I had time to tell quite a few stories.  It was only a question of which one.  Remembering Dragonheart, I said, “I’m going to tell you the story of a farm boy named Luke!”

“And his friend Han,” yelled one of the boys.  Suddenly, all my blocks were being piled at my feet.

“And the princess,” giggled one of the girls, “Who was the best shot!”  She dared anyone to challenge her.  No one did. 

“You’ve heard it before?” I asked.

“Yeah, lots of times.”

“Well, I’m going to tell it a bit differently,” I continued. 

Chapter 22 - Meeting of the Dark

Hardragon watched the sun slowly begin to set.  He wondered, not for the first time, how his life had turned out this way.  He stared at the message Phillip had sent him, his piercing blue eyes hoping to find some more detail on his quarry.

“I’m bored,” said a cheery, almost childlike voice.  Hardragon glanced up at Maggie.  She was still in place, not yet bored enough to engage in her favorite pastime.  He’d already lost one team member to her.  He was not eager to see what damage she could do to him if he wasn’t wary enough.

“See here, if they followed the road, they will be here tonight or tomorrow,” stated the elf.  His odd, nasally accent had a way of grinding Hardragon’s gears.  Grebthar himself had declared the elven accent that of a 1920’s radio announcer, but Hardragon had never been able to figure out what that meant.  Still, Hardragon was happy that the Elvish Monk was there.  He could be trusted and would, hopefully, keep Maggie at bay.

Maggie looked particularly mischievous today, which was beyond dangerous.  She was a short, lithe woman, whose stature conveyed nothing regarding her deadliness.  Her short haircut highlighted her bright pink hair, giving her a feminine innocence.  It was all part of the act.  Rumors swirled that Maggie had developed her love of murder with her own mother, who had been found, in pieces, around a children’s park one sunny day.  Maggie had only been six years old. 

When the woman caught him looking, she grinned.  Suddenly, she was his young, beautiful wife, her eyes twinkling merrily.

She poofed back to normal, as his hand went to his sword.  He would have told her to stop insulting the dead, but it would have only encouraged her.  Maggie was exceptionally skilled in one task and far more used to solo work.  Despite occasionally being called in for group missions, she had never learned to play well with others.  She was his problem for today and the boss’s problem the next. Assuming everything goes according to plan.

“So, do you think this O’Really fellow is going to be too much trouble?” asked the elf.

“Oh, Twinkle, I’m sure I can handle him,” grinned Maggie.  She didn’t shift forms toward the elf.  They were old and their natures were complex.  If she’d decided to change into one of his former lovers, she might have been any number of equally attractive elvish women or men, or someone of a different species altogether.  The act of transforming into a non-humanoid shape was uncomfortable for her. 

Hardragon eyed Twinkle closely.  No elf ever born had a name that was anything other than silly to human ears.  No human had ever insulted an elf’s name and not lived to regret it.  Twinkle was a Monk, a rare class in Falcon.  There was a certain poetry in how Monks moved that needed to be seen to be believed, and it was on full display now.

‘Because he doesn’t trust Maggie either.

As an elf, Twinkle had the lean, almost childlike look of their race.  When he was not ready for battle, the elf looked like a very well-mannered teenager.  With Maggie in the room, his precise movements had the air of a stalking predator, ready for battle.  Despite working with the elf for several missions now, Hardragon still didn’t know if Twinkle was a boy or a girl.  Gender did not concern elves.  Thankfully, Twinkle had indicated on his own that he responded to male pronouns.  Perhaps it was just because Phillip had asked Twinkle if he was a male first.  For some unknown reason, Twinkle found Phillip fascinating.  It had been fortunate, because elven clothing, mannerisms, and culture didn’t give Hardragon any sort of idea. 

Hardragon got the impression that gender was something elves viewed as amusing, rather than something they considered critical to their self-identity. 

The fact that the boss had an elf summoned to Falcon was enough to make Hardragon concerned.  He didn’t know what was going through her mind, but calling in a favor to get an elf out here seemed extreme.  Despite being a Monk, Twinkle was still a Mercenary, with all that that implied.  There was always the chance that someone had a larger purse or, more likely, a specific item that would tickle the elf’s fancy. 

They had already finished the first part of the job.  Whatever the boss was concerned over caused Twinkle to remain.  Hardragon looked back over to Maggie, who was just short of hopping up and down.  She was radiating uneasy anxiousness, waiting for her next target.  She didn’t look like what you’d expect a Kingslayer to look.

Maggie grinned back at him, but the smile never reached her eyes.  Those eyes were always a predator's eyes, cold and calculating. 

He was terrified of that smile, and she knew it. 

Chapter 23 - Story Time

“That was different,” said one of the children, after I’d finished giving them new hope.  Unfortunately, the story didn’t translate well without spaceships, and the magic fortress I’d been using for the Death Star fell flat.  They left the blocks, though, and slunk away in search of other amusements. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” I said grumpily.

“Oh, you think it wasn’t that bad?  You are truly adorable,” smiled Julia, as she plopped down across from me.  “I always thought the Legend of Luke was kind of like pizza; you could never have a bad version of it.  You, dear Cleric of Logan, have proved me wrong.”

I rolled my eyes.  Of course, Grebthar had told the story generations ago.  Of course, they adapted it to work on Ordinal.  I was saying something akin to the original version he must have told, and the people on Ordinal had a millennia to make it better.  I thought the problem was that I was describing a movie, and they had turned it into a book.  The book was always better.  To do a book audibly, you needed a great narrator.  It would take someone trained at Julliard to turn my rambling nonsense story into something people would enjoy listening to. 

“Can you do any better?” I asked.

“Sure,” she replied, going over to where the kids had wandered.  The children recognized her look instantly.  They fell silent, waiting for Julia to begin.  “Let me tell you all a very old story about heroes, villains, and the great war!”

“A story about Grebthar,” yelled many of the children in unison, making space for Julia to sit.

“Remember, these are in the very old style.  You will have to pay close attention,” she said confidently.  The children vigorously nodded in reply.  “Which story shall I tell?”

“Season 2, Episode 14,” yelled two of the loudest children in unison.  Julia smiled and settled in more.  I checked with Shart.

“Season 2?” I asked.

“It's Falcon.  Everything is a season and episode to them,” stated Shart.  I blinked several times at that.  What? 

“This week’s episode is The Great Battle for Wind and Windfall,” she began.

Close up on Grebthar’s face.  We hold on Grebthar for a long time, while scores of troops move behind him.  Badgelor is sitting on Grebthar’s shoulder, looking wise.  Grebthar starts to speak in hushed tones to the man beside him.

Grebthar:

Tomen, the armies of the Dark Overlord approach us.

Tomen:

As it is said in Falcon, “As long as there is Wind beneath my Wings, there is Hope.”

The shot pans out, circling Grebthar.  The massive hordes of the Dark Overlord’s army march toward a massive wall.  The shot turns slowly, ending on a furious Badgelor.  Quick cut to Tomen, barrel-chested Master Paladin

Tomen:

Do not worry, dear Grebthar.  You have been called, and Falcon stands at the Mayor’s back.

Grebthar:

Mayor, not king, eh?  I have a militia and an untested wall.  This place is barely a kingdom. I have yet to even name my town.  I am unsure how you think I can stop the Dark Overlord.

Tomen:

You are Grebthar, mayor of your lands and king of the Falcon.  Your wall stands against the Divine Wind of the Dark Lord.  You have forged your militia into a mighty army, an army whose very name will strike terror to the forces of evil!  The lands behind us will remain forever yours, Mayor.  The Dark Overlord will not kill the Hope this day.

Grebthar:

I’ll never take you for granite, dear Tomen.  Are you saying I should be boulder during my presentations?  I’d make a joke about you standing there like a statue, but it isn’t the monument for levity. 

Turning to face the gathered army, Grebthar has transformed.  His indecision has vanished.  Badgelor stands on Grebthar’s shoulder and roars a mighty War Badger cry.  The Dashing Dandies look up to see their commanding officer in all his glory.  Grebthar begins to speak. 

Grebthar:

The Dark Overlord comes with his army to destroy all that we hold dear.  He brings the might from the four corners of the world to scour this battlefield in his Divine Wind.  He thinks that we are afraid.  He thinks that we are terrified of what he brings, and who he is. 
WE ARE NOT!
Have your spears ready, men.  I’ll need them soon!  This battle will be where the Wind Falls!

“Wait just one fucking minute,” I said to Shart, as Julia continued telling the story.  It was rapidly devolving into a desperate series of engagements around what I recognized must be the Western Gate Fortress.  “For Wind and Windfall is a thing I made up.  I just pulled it out of my ass.”

“Seriously?” replied Shart.  “You must have heard of it somewhere.  It’s a long story, but Grebthar built a huge wall to stop the Dark Overlord’s army, the Divine Wind.  After the battle, they named the valley Windfall Valley.”

“What was it called before?” I asked.

“Rotting Eggs Valley,” stated Badgelor.  “There were huge sulfur patches in the northeastern part of the valley.  Charles didn’t want his city to be known as Eggtown, though.”

“And the Dashing Dandies were a real thing,” I groaned.  I remembered all the pushback I got for trying to rename the unit.  Everyone looked at me like I was killing their kids whenever I suggested anything different.  Now, I knew why. 

“Yup.  I’m actually surprised the big stupid one had heard of them,” said Shart.  “Then again, it’s a popular story, and one that’s very old.  He’s probably told Wind and Windfall to his wards more than a few times.”

“Dashing Dandies just doesn’t sound all that threatening,” I said finally.

“The name is a millennium old,” replied Badgelor.  “They were super threatening, back in their day.  The Dashing Dandies were a well-equipped, fast response force of elite soldiers.  Just the name was usually enough to rally the forces of good for one more engagement against the Dark Overlord.  You know, I fought in those battles.”

“That story makes it sound like you were a puppet,” I said.  “Were you always that fond of shoulders?”

“Something to do with the Special Effects budget,” stated Badgelor.  “In the old stories of Falcon, they always tried to limit large creatures on screen.  Dunno why, but Charles explained Special Effects to one of the earlier Bards.  It just took off from there.” 

“Wait is Bard a class?” I asked, I didn’t recall seeing it in the Chamber of Souls.

“A dead one,” replied Shart as he gestured towards Julia. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” I said, as Julia wrapped up her story.  The children were already discussing which episode to listen to next.  Putting that out of my mind, I looked up at Julia.  She had a smug, happy smile.  The children were super satisfied with her story and thought mine was hot garbage. 

Julia stood up and walked over to me.  Before she could say, “I told you so,” I handed her a train.  She looked at it for a moment.  “That’s kind of dirty, even for you.”

“What?  It’s a train,” I said, examining the toy.  My hands went through the automatic motions of crafting another one. 

“Trains by Jim,” stated Julia, flashing the maker’s mark at me.  “You are going to have the kiddies convinced that Jim the Curious Puppy made this toy himself.  That’s kind of despicable.”

“Maybe I know a man named Jim,” I grumbled, checking my crafting interface.  My name was listed as Jim, with O’Really marked as an alias.  I had been making those trains with Badgelor, long before becoming a Remort.  The maker’s mark setting was left on Jim; thus, all the trains I had produced would be listed as Trains by Jim.  I briefly considered the problems that could have caused on Badger’s Night but decided it wouldn’t have been a big deal.  It would be like finding your toys made by Snoopy rather than Santa.  Any competent parent could explain that away in moments. 

She snorted.  “Who would name their son Jim?  I mean, I guess it's on the approved list of names, but I have never seen anyone name their kid that.”

“Approved list of names?” I asked.

“Yes, there is a list of names that anyone from our kingdom can use.  Some get reserved for the nobility, of course, but everyone else has several names from the list,” replied Julia.  “Some are banned, for example Cumsom was the name of the original ruling house and they got eliminated 822 years back in Season 178, the Fall of the Tyrant!” 

“I would have figured it would have been Channing,” I said.

Julia pondered that for a moment, “They might still be a regional house in SoFal.”

“Southern Falcon?” I asked, “The country is mostly east and west.”

“Economically, it is easier to divide the country north and south,” said Julia, “Grapes grow best in NoFal.”  

“So, Angela is super-common as a first name in Falcon?” I asked, imagining it was like the name Sarah on Earth.  Or Jim.

“A tenth of the female population in any city you enter is going to be named Angela,” replied Julia, dangling her feet over the edge of the wagon. 

“Well, at least you are unique,” I quipped. 

“Oh, yeah, there sure haven’t been any Julias in the royal line before,” she grinned. 

“You don’t seem very royal for a princess,” I said, as I finished another train and set it aside.

“Do I need to be royal?” Julia replied.  She glanced around, before taking a seat in front of me.  Her pleasant, playful nature vanished.  “The First Order of Business is to be mindful of what we are doing.  We need to ensure that we acquire proper resources for the remainder of our mission.  You will protect me during this operation on the threat of painful exile, as well as the stain upon your eternal honor.”

“I take it back,” I said, as her eyes bored into mine.  She hadn’t used mind control magic this time.  She’d just used the tone of someone who fully expected that everything she said was going to go down exactly as she wanted.  I knew bosses, and that was ball buster talk right there.  Her ability to turn it on and off was a little scary, though. 

Julia grinned at me again.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll eventually figure out what to do with you.”

Chapter 24 - Recruitment

●  Caravan: Rank 2

●  Vehicles: Grand Caravanner’s Wagon, Enchanter’s Wagon (2/2)

●  Population: 78

“How many recruits is that?” I asked, as Cole and I strolled near the caravan.  Strolling sounded better than marching for miles, which was what we were actually doing.  There was a difference between hiking not bothering me physically, and hiking being super insanely dull.  By the fourth hour, I would have preferred to listen to a concert of nails on a chalkboard, in b flat. 

“That brings us up to thirty-two troopers, partner,” stated Cole, knowing full well that I could have easily checked the Caravan menu for that information.  I gave him the side-eye, and he sighed.  “I’d reckon maybe eight of the recruits are worth keeping.  The other four aren’t cut out for the work.”

“But we have nothing else for them to do,” I said, and Cole shrugged.  The last town had spoiled me.  Their pilgrims had brought what they needed with them.  The new batch believed in traveling light, so light that they didn’t bring anything with them.  Money or food would have just weighed them down. 

We had to find something useful for them to do, though.  The caravan was not a charity.  I’d suggested we just leave them, but I got outvoted by everybody.  Julia even gave me a horrified look for my sensible suggestion.  One did not abandon pilgrims.

“So, we keep them on lookout duty,” Cole suggested.  Smiling proudly, he continued walking.  I tried not to roll my eyes.  It was hard.  We’d gathered up a few more people as we traveled toward the city of Union.  None of them were remarkable in their talents or abilities. 

The area we were entering marked the start of wine country, which made up the last 100 leagues of the Silverado.  We’d crossed nearly twenty leagues since I’d respawned.  I was acting on the somewhat hopeful assumption that the hostile adventurers had lost our trail.  A long as we kept our heads low, there was simply too much traffic for them to find us now. 

Julia stepped off the back of the wagon and walked over to us.  Cole nodded respectfully at her and continued his patrol.  She had a skip to her step, and she approached me happily.  “Have you ever been to Union before?”

“No,” I replied, peeking around at the nearby farmland.  Unsurprisingly, there were lots of grapes.  We were almost to the top of a large hill.  Union had to be close, by the look of things.  That was funny on its face.  If I were driving a car on Earth, I’d be minutes away.  On Ordinal, even if Union were right over the hill, we’d still be walking for more than an hour to get there.

“Union is the first major city we are going to be passing,” Julia explained.  “I checked with RonJared.  He said we are going to stop for at least several hours, possibly all night.  It depends on how his trades go.  However, he assures me we will be leaving, at the latest, by mid-morning.  We will be in Salvador before the Dragon’s Moon rises.”

That was the crux of the issue.  I hadn’t noticed, but RonJared did quite a bit of trading.  He had a massive amount of goods on his wagon.  The reason I hadn’t noticed before was that he didn’t bother with the smaller stops.  That’s not to say he didn’t sell some goods, but he usually did it through the crew in the shops.  Union was different.  RonJared was going to make a show of it, which meant we would be here a bit. 

Julia and I walked companionably for the next hour, until we finally reached the top of the hill.  Union stretched out before us.  Thousands of people must have lived there.  It was bigger than Windfall, but not by much.  With my Administrator’s eye, I realized that parts of it were less developed than Windfall.  There was a substantial downtown area, but the rest of the town spread out in all directions.  It was attractive, in a European sort of way, but I was eager to actually get into the city.

It took another forty minutes of walking, as the city before us became thicker and thicker.  Union was divided into two sections, neatly bisected by the road.  The northern half was the commercial side, and the southern half was the industrial side.  In Union’s case, most of the industry was wine-related.  Someone had chalked in lanes, and a few traffic control people were trying to get the wagons into some semblance of order.  They were having varying degrees of success, as Hubert didn’t appear to enjoy being told how to drive. 

“Are you going to the temple?” Julia asked.  “I checked.  There is a temple to Logan here.”

“Do I need to?” I replied.  I already got my Cleric of Logan badge, so to speak.  The idea of wandering into a temple seemed redundant. 

“Only if you want the Talent Points,” she answered coyly.  “Most of the time, that’s why Clerics go on these pilgrimages.  They are trying to earn more Talent Points by swearing their oaths in as many temples as they can.”

Earn Talent Points?  I could swear an oath if it got me Talent Points.  Logan’s oath seemed to be pretty straightforward, “I’m the best there is at what I do.”  Right on the money for him. 

“Wait, you can earn Talent Points by just visiting temples?” I asked, considering my other classes. 

“You can earn Clerical Talent Points by visiting temples.  I’m a Zealot.  I’d have to give a big speech in front of a bunch of people and get them fired up for my cause,” she said.

“What is your cause?” I asked, curious.

“Depends on what time it is.  Zealots are nothing if not fickle,” she replied, winking at me.

“Can other classes earn Talent Points by doing things related to their class?” I asked.  “I thought you only earned talents from gaining experience.”

“Well, you could.  It would take forever, though,” replied Julia, reverting to her lecture mode.  “My understanding is that each class earns Talent Points for doing specific actions based on their chosen subclass.  A Knight earns additional Talent Points for his armor, horse, and any actions involving those.  An Assassin would gain Talent Points by assassinating people.”

“How many Talent Points can someone earn?” I asked, reviewing my Clerical talents.”

“It depends. You’ll get your first one by swearing at the first temple, then another at the third, sixth, tenth, and so on.  You also have a bunch of milestone activities that you can do to earn Talent Points.  However, each time you earn a Talent Point, the threshold gets much higher.”

“So, an Assassin would need to kill more people the more they level?” I asked, while my mind wandered to Talent Points.  Had I been earning extra ones and not realizing it.

Julia coughed into her hand.  “Actually, for an Assassin, they have to kill higher-level targets.”

I looked at her askance.

“Hey, I’m a princess. You learn about these things,” she retorted hotly.  “If you ever want to hire a Mercenary army, give me a holler.”

“I already have a Mercenary army,” I muttered.

“What was that?” Julia asked, looking at me with her pretty, hazel eyes. 

I coughed.  “What are you planning on doing in town?”

“Dunno, I’m tapped out.  I’ll probably wander around the main square. I could use some artesian WakeUpJuice or some wine, but, alas, no coin.”  She looked over longingly, as various street performers began barking for customers along the highway.  Several of the children ran from the caravan to watch the juggling and dancing. 

“I thought you were the princess.  How can you be flat broke?” I asked, turning away from a fire-breather. 

“I can’t just walk into Union, head over to the Temple of Rogers, and say, ‘I’m the princess! Give me money!’ It sucks,” she pouted prettily. 

“The Temple of Rogers gives out money?” I asked.

“Give is a strong word. The Clerics of Rogers are great patriots.  Of course, they would do anything in their quest to help their respective nations.  They have discovered that short term gifts of money are often the greatest boon they can offer,” replied Julia piously.  “As such, it’s better to say that, while they will give you money, you had better be ready to give it back.  It is customary to give a little extra when you do repay them.”

“That’s a loan,” I said.

“It's a gift with strings attached,” replied Julia. 

“So, they are a bank?” I asked.

“Basically,” she shrugged.  “Just don’t tell them that to their faces.”

“I thought they would be about Truth, Justice, and the American Way,” I said.

“The American Way?  Wow, that’s an old expression,” chuckled Julia.  “If you go way back, to the great war against the Dark Overlord, the Temple of Rogers was more noble.  That was a thousand years ago, though, and they are a church.  There have been doctrinal schisms, ecclesiastical infighting, and real-life for them to worry about.” 

“The ideals didn’t hold up?” I asked.

“Nope.  The reason their temples are the biggest is that they need space for a vault,” stated Julia.  “Heck, if you look at the entire pantheon, I doubt any of the gods would be recognizable from Grebthar’s day.  Take the Temple of Tony.  He used to be the god of iron, mining, and innovation.  Now?  He’s the god of Crafting Guilds.  His clergy all spend their time ensuring that you use the proper recipes for any crafted item.”

“So, no improvising?” I guessed.

“If they found out about your train, you would be in deep trouble,” she stated, as we brushed the side of the road.  Julia had been steering us in that direction.  She reached down and plucked a small, white flower, placing it behind her ear.  It made her look younger and cuter.  I realized that was her intent, as she sauntered back toward me. 

“We are almost properly in town.  Due to those men of iron, I won’t be able to use any of my better skills to earn money.  They are real sticklers about maker’s marks.  Anything I tried to sell would be labeled with my name, Princess Julia Angela Claudia Carrington Ewing Gioberti Napa Ewing,” she grumbled, giving me a judgmental look.  As she walked, she adopted her regal bearing for a moment, before reverting to a more mundane, commoner walk. 

“I take it that would be bad,” I said.  Julia gave me another affronted look.

“Of course, it would be bad!  I’d be recognized right away.  If I could sell things, I’d be brewing up a mass of potions.  Instead, I’m completely destitute, headed into one of the best shopping cities in NoFal.”

“You seem pretty blasé about it,” I said.  She realized she might have laid it on a bit thick.  The princess had stopped just short of using puppy dog eyes. 

“What?  So, there is a civil war going on.  I’ve lived through three of them, and I’m a princess.  It's not like I’m in any real danger.”

“You are a target, though,” I said.

“Yup, if I’m recognized, I’m going to be stuffed into a bag and dumped back into a lodge somewhere.  If that happens, you aren’t going to get what you need,” she said. 

We walked for a bit longer in silence.  Finally, I asked, “What do you actually need for the summoning?”

She glanced around, frowning for a moment.  Deciding we were out of earshot, she responded, “A summoning circle of at least the seventh tier.  The larger the circle, the easier the summoning.  The seventh tier is the lowest I can go.”

“Is there a circle like that in Union?” I asked.

“Nope,” she grinned, eyeing me.  “I think there is a ruin to the north.  My father once ordered a demon-worshipping cult out of it.  I believe it contains the closest summoning circle.

“Should we go off and look for it?” I asked.

“Go searching for the ruined temple alone, or travel one more day in relative comfort to get to the summoning circle in the Grand Cathedral?  Gee, that’s a tough choice.  Relax.  We have plenty of time to make it before the Dragon’s Moon.  Besides, it’s faster to travel by wagon than by foot.”

“You are sure you can summon him, right?” I asked seriously.  Shart had vouched for Julia, and she did seem confident.  Still, I needed to look her in the eye, those bottomless hazel eyes.

“I’m a princess of the royal line.  Of course, I can,” she said confidently, before muttering something that even I missed.  My Insight check came back positive, again, so I had to go with it. 

I rolled my eyes.  “Sorry I asked.  I still find it interesting that a princess knows Demon Lore.”

“There are many paths to Zealotry,” she grinned.  “I just had to grind it out in my father’s library.  What did you expect, that I would be off singing while little birds flew around me?”

“Kind of,” I replied.

“Foul things!  They shit everywhere.  Not every princess can sing very well, either,” she said. 

“Doesn’t that take all the romanticism out of those stories?” I chuckled.

“Sorry, I’m not about to fall for some destitute adventurer who rescues me,” she said, fluttering her eyes at me.  Snorting, she added, “I’m holding out for a king.  Maybe, if I get lucky, I’ll someday rule my own kingdom.”

“Why not lead your own army in the civil war?” I asked.

“I got outmaneuvered right off the bat,” stated Julia flatly.  “When I was dumped in the lodge, my aunt and uncle absorbed my forces.  I don’t have an army left.  Don’t worry.  In a few years, something will come up.  I’ll rise and conquer everything.”

“Aren’t you worried that, after you are queen, someone will rise and kill you?” I asked.

“That’s not supposed to happen,” she stated, before frowning.  “That’s what I don’t understand about this whole war.  I could see my uncle dethroning my father, but killing him?  That just isn’t done.  You win, you exile the new losers, and you un-exile the old losers.”

“How long have you actually been a princess?” I asked.

“Daddy won his first civil war when I was five.  Until then, I was best friends with the previous princess, but she was exiled with the old king,” stated Julia, matter-of-factly.  “When I was about twelve, the old king came back.  He tried to dethrone my father and failed.  I was captured early on in the fighting.  I spent the entire war in the Eastern Palace.  When my father won, I was freed.  That was about thirteen years ago.  Those wars were fun, this one, not so much.”

The mischievous look in her eyes had faded, replaced with something resembling bleak sadness.  We walked silently a few more paces, before the princess sighed.  She turned away from the city and headed back to the wagon.  She didn’t need to be miserable and poor in the only decent-sized city we’d encountered. 

I struck a pouch on my side, causing it to rattle distinctively.  It was the sound of stones clinking together.  Julia turned back toward me with a questioning look. 

“I suppose I might be willing to help a princess out,” I said with a shrug. 

Julia grinned back.  “Well, I’m broke.  I hope you won’t take advantage of my current state.  Perhaps you could see it in your heart to give this poor princess some funds?   I could repay you in the future.”

“You’ll pay me back Tuesday for a hamburger today?” I chuckled.  She slapped my arm.

“Geeze,” she said, turning her head to look at me, “I can’t get a read on you.  Half the time, you act like a yokel from the sticks; the other half, you are quoting the Ancients.”

“I yam what I yam, and that’s all that I yam.”

Chapter 25 - Union

Maggie Starvos sat, impatiently watching the road.  She would have hired someone to do this for her, but, unfortunately, she had the misfortune of having one of the highest Perception stats in the party.  Also, Hardragon was a hardass.  Twinkle had a higher skill, she thought, but arguing with the elf was no fun.

“O’Really,” she muttered. She was positive it was a fake name.  It sounded like an easterner name, but how often did you meet one of them in this part of the world?  No, she was more inclined to believe what Su-Kar had told her.  He had to be some sort of disguised Chosen.  That gave Maggie the advantage, though. She knew how to kill Chosen.

Still, Maggie allowed for the possibility, however unlikely, that he was a Remort.  Phillip was a gruff bully, but he tended to know his targets.  That was why Maggie was dressed the way she was.  A performer collecting coins on the side of the road could hide in plain sight.  It was easier than hiding in alleys.  She wore a tight, black and white checkered hood that covered her head, hiding her pink hair.  The rest of her outfit was colored similarly and pulled tightly over her body.  With her stature, the body suit made her look much younger.  She didn’t need to expend Stamina to modify her form. 

Presently, she had six balls in the air.  The gathered children were giggling, as she expertly juggled the yellow orbs.  Her record was fifteen, but this wasn’t the kind of performance where she wanted to draw attention.  Six objects placed her at Journeyman level.  Journeyman Jugglers were a copper a dozen. 

The next wagon passed her.  She strained to look at everyone while juggling.  There were more people present than she would have liked.  If they were smart, both targets would have hidden inside the wagons.  However, Maggie doubted it.  Royals loved to show off, and Chosen all thought they were immortal.

That was her favorite part of killing Chosen.  They thought nothing could harm them, as long as they could meet the danger on their feet.  She had learned how to creep up on them, taking them from behind.  She had a talent that let her see the light leaving their eyes.  It was a delight to watch them perish.  She couldn’t wait to get her current Chosen. 

If she’d had her way, she would have killed the princess, too, to complete the set.  The boss had issued strict orders, though.  When the boss laid down the law, one did not upset her. 

When Maggie spotted the two of them together, she rolled her eyes.  That was too damn obvious.  Her target was sort of smart.  O’Really had gone with a nondescript outfit.  Maggie normally wouldn’t have looked twice at him.  She considered what would have happened, had he simply slipped past her.  She shuddered.  Best not to mention that in my report. 

In the end, it didn’t matter.  Maggie recognized the princess.  For a few steps, Julia had slipped into a posture and gait entirely abnormal outside the noble houses, and Maggie was intimately familiar with Julia’s body.  Once the princess had been identified, O’Really stuck out like a sore thumb.  That was a shame.  Because of three steps worth of inattention, Julia was going to get them both killed.  The fates could be cruel. 

Maggie considered that, while sending a message over to Hardragon. 

Chapter 26 - Temples

“Are you sure that was a temple?” I asked, after a quick stop at the Temple of Rogers.  It had been an odd experience.  I’d ‘lent’ a patriot of Rogers several gemstones.  Then, he ‘lent’ me some gold coins that were, more or less, of equal value to the stones.  It seemed, at least to me, that he had bought the rocks, but Julia merely chuckled at my suggestion.

“He’s a Cleric,” she said with emphasis.  “He’d have to have a Union merchant's license to buy things.  He fully expects you to come back and reclaim your stones.  If you don’t, he’ll have to come up with another means of recouping the church’s money.”

I shook my head.  That seemed too much like Earth and some of the bizarre laws we had there.  The whole market was rather unusual.  We were in the temple district, but Tony nominally functioned as the god of commerce.  Pretty much every space between the temples was filled with bustling market stalls.  Clerics of Tony were evident.  They wore full suits of armor and carried large smith’s hammers at their sides. 

Not everyone was shopping, though.  There were performers of various stripes, priests spreading the good word, and a guy on a soapbox.  The latter was holding a banner and screaming at the top of his lungs.  I recognized his type instantly. 

“The duke will ensure defense.  His mighty army will protect us from the war in the Riverlands.  A strong army makes for a prosperous state,” yelled out one supporter.  He was wearing purple, showing his allegiance to the duke.

“Hardly!  The duke is too busy hiding in his castle.  The duchess will support us through trade and negotiations.  A strong economy makes a strong army,” yelled another man.  He was wearing nothing but green.

I listened to them screaming at each other for five minutes, as I stood in line to enter the Temple of Logan.  It wasn’t that there was a long line. It just seemed that everyone was moving very slowly.  Julia was bored.  Having taken half my coin, she seemed more than ready to go shopping.

“Another dress?” I asked, thinking about her previous experience.

“Maybe, but something functional,” she said, glancing down at her current garb.  She was wearing a nicer peasant dress than most of the women in Union.  However, it was far below the quality of the merchants in the city.  “Really, I need to pick up a laundry list of materials for other things.”

“Crafting?” I asked.  Any time people needed large amounts of weird stuff, it was always for crafting.  I’d discovered that crafting made a great cover.

“Yes, crafting,” she agreed flatly, winking at me.  This time, crafting meant summoning. 

“Well, I don’t want to lose track of you,” I said, throwing her a party invite.

She blinked at me a few times.  “In town?”

“Yes, a town is where we got attacked last time we separated,” I replied.  Julia accepted the invite and quickly vanished into the crowd.  I caught sight of a hawk-faced man cutting down an alley between two of the more distant temples.  He looked like an adventurer, so I made a note of him. 

There were a great number of temples here.  In Windfall, we had one cathedral.  It would be a very nice cathedral, once I got around to repairing it.  It would get done, eventually.  No one had complained about its lack of functionality yet, so I hadn’t deemed it a high priority.  Union certainly had far more people in it than Windfall, with no fewer than nine significant temples and a dozen shrines. 

Logan, my god, had a temple here.  It was not one of the fancier ones.  The Temple of Rogers was a massive, four-story affair.  Gold stars ran up and down the columns.  It was built like an American-style bank. There were large red, white, and blue banners hung at strategic points, making me a bit homesick. 

By contrast, Logan’s two-story temple was yellow and black.  There was a decent-sized garden surrounding it, though it appeared to want to do its own thing.  Logan’s temple looked positively rustic compared to all the others.  I was waiting in line with petitioners, because barging ahead wasn’t encouraged here. 

“So, finally going to be an honest Cleric,” stated Shart.

“I’ve been in line for twenty minutes now,” I grumbled.  “I should have bought those juggling balls.  At least that would be something to do.”

“That would be fun, listening to you skyrocket your Juggling skill in front of this crowd of people,” stated the demon.

“Aside from the font in this temple, have you found any others?” I asked. 

“All the temples, of course,” replied Shart.  “Good luck getting into them.  There are a few subsurface fonts we could go after next.”

“The city is built on ruins?” I asked, before shaking my head.  “Dumb question.  Of course, the city is built on ruins.” 

“Oh, well done, Dum Dum!  You’re learning to recognize how stupid you sound.  I’m so proud,” Shart replied.  He continued, before I had time to form a suitable retort.  “After you leave the temple, you can buy some gear and dive in.”

I nodded. While I didn’t necessarily want to go searching for a fight or delve deeply into ruins, sometimes that was the only choice. 

Finally, I reached the head of the line.  It ended at a wooden gate, where people spoke to an Acolyte.  The Acolyte then took them, one by one, into the temple.  Some came out the back and left, while others went to work in the garden.  Their tasks mostly involved trying to tame the curly weeds that grew outside the garden’s borders. 

“I’m here to make a vow to Logan,” I said.  It still felt wrong, but I decided to move on with it.

“Where are you from?” asked the bored-looking Acolyte.

“Angwin,” I replied.  It was the closest main town.

He looked up at me and read my name tag.  “Are you sure?  You look like an easterner.”  I was about to complain that I looked just about normal considering how much of a mish-mosh the town’s population was.  Then, I realized he was talking about my name tag. 

“Sure, let's go with that, then,” I said.

He looked back down at his papers.  “Your vow, petitioner or Acolyte?”

“Neither,” I answered consideringly.  “I need to make a Clerical vow.”

That got a reaction.  The man’s eyes shot back up, as he really looked at me for the first time.  “You are a Cleric?  Of Logan?”

“Yes, level 7,” I responded. 

“I do apologize!  It's just that we don’t see many Clerics.  I’m so very sorry,” he said, rushing to fling open the front gate and let me onto the grounds.  I stepped inside, and the wooden gate slammed shut behind me.  The young Acolyte hurried past me, leaving the other partitioners standing.  I expected them to be upset, but no one seemed the least bit concerned.  In fact, they were all looking at me expectantly.

“Shart, what the feck?” I asked.

“Hm?  What has your loincloth in a bunch this time?” the demon asked.

“Why are they so impressed that I’m a Cleric of Logan?” I continued, falling in step behind the Acolyte. 

“Well, Clerics are uncommon in the first place.  I doubt that there are many, if any, Clerics of Logan in Falcon,” stated Shart.  I could swear I heard clicking in the distance. “And you are going to make a vow at the altar.  That will empower it significantly.  That means their vows will be more successful.”

Mystical Lore supplied me with the knowledge that a vow made at a temple allowed someone to pledge their faith in exchange for a small boon.  Depending on the strength of your vow, that boon could be pretty potent.  The people out gardening were making more powerful vows.  Logan would, in turn, empower them more significantly than if they had just spoken the words at the altar. 

When I made a vow as a Cleric, I was promising to spread the faith.  That strengthened Logan’s hold in Union and made any boons he granted stronger for everyone.  Of course, the people waiting in line wanted me to go first.  Heck, I probably could have cut to the front of the line without anyone complaining. 

We crossed over a stone path and entered the temple.  The Acolyte told me to wait, while he vanished further into the structure.  The inside looked more like a Canadian log cabin than any church I had ever been in.  While I waited, I walked around, looking at the iconography. 

The Badgerine was a short, stout man with crazy hair and strange claws.  Logan was carved into almost everything covering three of the temple's four walls.  The other wall had been reserved for another figure.  Pictures of Badgelor covered every inch of that wall. 

“Hey, Badgelor, by the way, I’m a Cleric of Logan now,” I shot over to Badgelor.

There was a long pause.  I’d pretty much given up on getting a response, when Badgelor fired back, “Only god worth worshipping.  He knows what’s up!”

“A church that worships badgers is your favorite?  How unexpected,” I chuckled. 

“Hey, it's not my fault they are the only church that gets it right,” stated Badgelor.

Finally, an older looking Acolyte stepped from a back room, the younger Acolyte in tow.  Both men walked over to me.  The older man seemed to squint, before his eyes turned bright blue. 

“My associate says you claim to be a Cleric,” he stated without preamble.

“Yes, level 7,” I replied.

“Hmm,” stated the older Acolyte.  He walked over to the altar in the middle of the room, never ceasing his examination of me.  After what seemed like forever, he finally spoke, “You claim to be a Cleric, yet I cannot detect any class levels.” 

The younger Acolyte deflated at these words.  I remembered that, with my Amulet and Shadow Walker perk, it was enormously hard to get a read on me.  That, coupled with the rather severe power differential between adventurers and professionals, meant that him not seeing my levels indicated to him that I didn’t have any.

The older Acolyte let his spell extinguish and began to turn around.  The younger Acolyte walked over to me to escort me from the building.  I wasn’t going to get to make my vow, and I really needed those Talent Points.

I cast Heightened Senses, my own eyes flaring blue.  “I think you might need to try harder.”

The younger Acolyte's hands flew off me, and he stepped back like my body was on fire.  The older Acolyte spun around at my words, only to see my glowing eyes.  He paused, his mouth opening and closing.  Words refused to come to him for a long moment.

“If you are a Cleric, you can perform your vow at the altar,” he said finally, stepping aside to allow me access. 

I walked a few steps forward, eyeing both men.  They balled their fists and crossed them over their chests. Emulating them, I wondered why we were doing the Wakanda salute, until I remembered who we worshipped.

“What the hell am I supposed to do here?” I asked Shart and Badgelor.

“Don’t you have the Religion skill?” replied Badgelor sleepily.

I did have the Religion skill.  I just hated using it.  Mystical Lore I could handle, because it was dumping new stuff into my head.  The Religion skill tended to augment my already existent religious knowledge.  Stuff I had learned in Sunday School and remembered since I was a child was suddenly merged with information about the Badgerine.  Both seemed equally real to me.  As I stood there, thinking about Logan, it hit me. 

Of Course.

“Snikt, Snikt,” I said, moving both my arms out to my sides, fists forward.  Then, I made several slashing motions with my fists, until I had advanced to the altar.

“I’m the best at what I do,” I said, catching the older man out of the corner of my eye.  He seemed disappointed.  I delved deeper into my Religion skill.  “Bub.”

Suddenly, the altar flared to life. 

●   You have activated the temple of the Badgerine!  Due to this temple not seeing a Cleric in over 100 years, its spiritual power has weakened.  By reactivating the Temple, you will strengthen all boons granted by the temple!  You gain 1 Talent Point. 

●   You have made a vow at a Temple. You gain 1 Talent Point.

‘Well, that’s great,’ I thought, looking around.  Both Acolytes were ecstatic, having been thoroughly convinced I really was a Cleric of Logan. 

“Is this you keeping a low profile?” asked Shart.

“Yes,” I replied.  “How many Clerics of Logan are there?”

“Three,” replied Shart.

“Including me, or am I a fourth?”

“Including you.”

“Well, that explains it then. They must not visit this part of Falcon often,” I said.

“I don’t mean three in Falcon, Dum Dum.  I mean three on Ordinal.  One isn’t even on this continent, and the other is giving me some strange error,” stated Shart. 

“How the hell can you check that when you can’t even see if adventurers are chasing us?” I grumbled.

“The Clerics are on a list,” replied Shart.  I groaned.  That was a database query issue.  Some information was right in front of you.  Other stuff, you had to dig to find. 

“Well, I think I’m going to mosey on out.  These Acolytes are seriously creeping me out,” I said to Shart.

“Hold up, Dum Dum,” said the demon.  “Let me work my magic here.  It’s time to do that Maximum Level increase.”  Damn.  I had hoped Shart had already done that. 

“What do I need to do?” I asked.

“Just focus on the altar.  You’ll get a prompt,” replied Shart.

●   Would you like to Attune the Altar? This will make you this temple’s Cleric.  <Yes/No>

“What does being the temple Cleric entail?” I asked.

“Not much.  Shut up. You just need to bless the temple every decade or so.  Aside from that, you get a small stipend.  The Acolytes will be very polite to you when you stroll by, assuming you don’t overstay your welcome.  Remember, Clerics and fish stink after three days”

“Aren’t we draining it of power?” I asked.

“Tank is almost empty, Bub,” stated Shart.  “You’ll give it more power, blessing it when we finish.  Then, I can draw out of it.  Think of this as a proof-of-concept level increase.”

“Great, those always go well,” I replied, selecting “Yes.”  The results were not spectacular. I did get a new tab on my Cleric page.  The Temple of Logan did not have many adherents in Union.  There was only one dues-paying member of the church, and he was a new follower.  Fortunately, he was wealthy and seemed interested in the herbs in the garden.  His donations had allowed the temple to hire a second Acolyte.

●   Max Level has been increased. Your max Level is now 60.1

“Well, that’s anti-climatic,” I said.

“Shut up, you twat!  I’m trying.  I just broke the <system>, just for you, AGAIN.  What thanks do I get?” grumbled Shart. 

“What can someone do with .1 levels?” I asked.

“I don’t know!  I’ve never seen that.  Does “broken system” mean something different on Earth?  We will just have to find out together.  I’m sure it will be interesting and not at all problematic,” replied Shart.  “Let’s go get geared up and check the other magical fonts in town.”

That sounded reasonable.  I finished blessing the altar and turned to leave.  Both Acolytes were beaming at me.  I gestured toward the altar.  The older Acolyte ran over and practically jumped for joy at the new symbols running across it.  He had the look of someone who was just a touch crazy.  The other Acolyte wasn’t much better. 

I determined it was time to sneak out of the building and tried to move out of sight.  Unfortunately, trying to sneak away from a pair of men with Heightened Senses was probably beyond my capabilities.  Fortunately, someone’s teenage kid had walked in and was headed toward the altar. 

I expected the Acolytes to toss him out, but both kowtowed to him almost instantly.  I paused.  The boy’s face was incredibly pretty, but, upon reflection, I wasn’t sure if it was a he or a she.  The unknown person had an exceptionally well-proportioned face.  They were wearing a headband with an unrecognizable symbol on it, along with some plain, though finely crafted, robes.  Their hair was in an elaborate series of braids that would have taken forever to get just right. 

With the Acolytes suitably distracted, I stepped out of the Temple of Logan and back into the market square. 

***

Julia adjusted her hat carefully and watched O’Really leave the temple.  She couldn’t recall any Clerics to Logan, so he was probably having a grand old time in there.  She quickly checked and verified that her Disguise skill was functioning correctly, still gaining Skill Points. 

The notion of using Disguise to blend in had never occurred to her, so this was great fun. She usually went as Angela, if she disguised herself.  However, certain people in Union would have recognized that persona and reported her.  Instead, she had simply bundled herself up and was using Disguise to appear as unremarkable as possible.  If someone walked right up to her, they could, of course, read her name tag.  Thankfully, no one had seemed to notice her. 

The elf entering the temple had been impressive.  Julia hadn’t seen many elves, and he was quite handsome.  At least, the elf was a he at the moment. She recognized the hair.  If she’d had more time to look, she could have identified his tribe.  Unfortunately, the elf had quickly vanished into the temple.  Shortly afterward, O’Really stepped out.

A pang of jealousy flashed through her mind, as Julia lamented the elves' magical ability to manipulate their hair.  With a thought, they could get it into whatever elaborate style they wanted.  The entire race took ruthless advantage of that ability.  The last time Julia had sat with an elven diplomat, her hair had taken hours to arrange.  The elf had seen it and thought it cute.  Within seconds, she had copied Julia’s look.  Then, to rub salt in the wound, she had made her hair even more elaborate than the princess’s. 

Then again, if Julia could manipulate her looks with just a thought, she would have done the same thing.  She would have done the exact same thing and smirked while she did it, just like the elf. 

Getting back to her target, she was dismayed to see how much distance O’Really had covered in such a short period.  He was very competent, it seemed, and she would have to be more wary.  She’d heard tales of Remorts, not that anyone had met one in generations.  It was scary to consider how many skills he possessed, though.  He might even have a fused skill or two.  She had to get his cooperation, one way or another. 

She did feel slightly terrible.  Deep down, Julia knew lying to O’Really like this was wrong.  Her Cause wasn’t becoming the queen of Falcon, like she’d implied.  She was going to have to be careful.  Besides, it wasn’t like he was being honest with her.  Not O’Really was a terrible fake name.  Since he had lied to her, she was justified in lying straight back to him.

Growing up as a person of interest, she’d learned most of the tricks for avoiding guards.  Guards frequently forced her to enter into a party.  They, along with her father, insisted on knowing her whereabouts at all times.  However, no matter how good the <system> was, there were always workarounds.  She knew the flaws particularly well. 

Transferring your party membership to some unsuspecting sap was always handy, and it's not like she didn’t know where O’Really was.  She just needed to figure out how he ticked, and she wouldn’t have to be a co-ruler to anyone.  She could be a proper queen, once her Cause was fulfilled. 

It had taken her three spells to ensure that she could lock down where O’Really was.  Now, all she had to do was follow him and figure out his secrets.

Behind her, someone cleared his throat.  Julia turned, a defensive prayer ready.  It sputtered on her lips, as she saw the hawk-faced man she still occasionally dreamed about.

“Hardragon.”

Chapter 27 - How Exotic

Cutting between two stalls and grabbing a hot meat pie, I tried to figure out what to do next.  Julia was in a clothing store, trying on dresses or something.  I didn’t think she would appreciate me poking my head in.  Frankly, I didn’t want to go dress shopping.  Dresses made my butt look frumpy. 

The Temple of Logan had awarded me multiple Talent Points.  I got the one for making a vow at the altar, but several more due to the draining and restoration.  I had enough to buy the Domain spell upgrade, Regeneration.  I had also earned an Explorer talent for visiting a ‘Lost Temple’, which had happened when I drained the temple’s power.  I had drained the well dry but blessed it right back up again.  Shart had not been kidding.  In terms of spiritual power, the Temple of Logan had been running on fumes.  The single blessing I’d performed represented more Divine power than the entire temple had before I’d arrived. 

“I assume we broke something?” I asked Shart.

“Indubitably,” replied Shart.  “I’m looking at the <error log> now.  It’s a doozie.”

“Is your cohort going to find out what we just did?” I asked.

“Not anymore,” replied Shart, “Which is why I’m looking through the <error log>.” 

Glancing through the Explorer tree, I scanned through the talents.  I started with the Hit Point talent I’d chosen before, but I got distracted.  I noticed the next branch on that tree was Exotic Weapon Savant.

“How do Exotic Weapons and Hit Points go together?” I wondered.

“Your thinking is flawed,” replied Shart, “as usual.  That branch isn’t giving you more Hit Points to make you healthier.  It's giving you more Hit Points to make you better able to explore.”

“That’s probably much more useful than just gaining Hit Points, but I don’t remember seeing Exotic Weapons there before,” I said.

“Talents like those have to be unlocked.  They become visible once you learn certain skills or gain powers in other ways,” stated Shart.  “You earned that talent option by being granted a blessing at a nature temple.”

“Well, then, I’ll have to seriously consider taking it,” I chuckled. 

●   Exotic Weapon Savant: You rapidly gain proficiency in exotic weapons.  You have a chance to unlock any unusual weapon skills and will gain proficiency at twice the normal rate, until you achieve Expert rank.  Your three highest weapon skills will determine your base weapon skill.  Your base skill is Journeyman. 

I could learn to fight with any exotic weapon, and I would start out at Journeyman.  Traditionally, in any game, the exotic weapons were always the most fun.  Then again, I wasn’t here to have fun; I was here to kill Charles. 

“You might need to kill Charles with an exotic weapon,” Shart helpfully supplied.

“Well, I can’t go against my shoulder demon,” I replied, selecting the talent.  “I’m surprised you were up for such a frivolous choice.”

“I have my arcane and selfish reasons,” said Shart, and I idly wondered how much I’d just been fucked over. 

The next issue was how to test the skill.  I looked around with my Perception skill active, until I spotted an unattended piece of fabric.  Using my Salvage skill, I converted it down to a string.  Wrapping that around both hands, I tried to get into a murderous mindset.  Thinking about Charles did the trick.  I imagined wrapping the string around his throat.

●   You have gained proficiency in exotic weapon, garrote. Your rank is Journeyman.

“Neat,” I said, dropping the string.  “Now to find a whip.”

***

“How polite of her,” thought Maggie, as she used her Magic Sniffing talent to move toward her target.  This O’Really guy was all sorts of annoying.  He was fast, moved through crowds like an old pro, and was devilishly tricky to track.  If the secondary target hadn’t landed a few spells on him first, Maggie would have surely lost him in the hordes of people. 

Reminding the princess of that would be a fond memory, she was sure.

Thankfully, Maggie had a few minutes to scrutinize him before this moronic chase began.  There were advantages to dressing like a common performer.  O’Really had an amulet of non-detection.  It was an older type, the kind parents gave their none-too-talented children before sending them off into the world.  Her Analyze Target perk had come in useful again, allowing her to spot his actual level.  He was a level 7 Cleric. 

As a professional Assassin, this kind of job irked her.  It was a total waste of her immeasurable talents, and it was all because Phillip and Su-Kar couldn’t get their shit sorted.  Maggie knew what had happened now, without needing to even hear the story. The pair had started fighting and let their targets escape.  The Disguise versus Remort argument was total bunk.  A part of her briefly considered that O’Really had a perk that would hide his abilities, but even that was impossible.  Her second talent, Know Thy Enemy, could pierce not only magical items but also perks, such as Shadow Walker.  If he was Disguised, her talent would have bypassed it. 

Not that O’Really still wasn’t all sorts of annoying.  She’d lost him again.  He was bouncing all over the damn market.  O’Really was the most paranoid person she had ever tried to ambush.  She was positive he knew he was being tracked. Otherwise, his pattern wouldn’t make any sense at all. 

No one is that paranoid.

Once, he had almost managed to get to her.  He’d turned a corner and reversed himself, before Maggie had reacquired him.  By the time she’d spotted him again, he was on top of the path she’d been taking, before one of the Men of Iron’s wanderings had diverted her.  Maggie hated relying on luck, but it was exhilarating. 

Her next kill was going to be much easier, thankfully.  The boss had already given her a target, along with permission to torture him to death, using whatever method she desired.  It was rare that the boss let her cut loose like that. There wasn’t even a word about collateral damage.

That meant there was going to be a lot of collateral damage. 

Maggie was going to light a fire.  Maybe there would be a hospital or, better yet, an orphanage.  As a rule, no one cared about orphans.  However, that was in the back of her mind. Right now, she was trying to tail someone who was obviously concerned about being followed.  Because of that, it was taking forever. 

She didn’t like waiting this long.  When O’Really finally stopped at a monster tamer’s stall, she realized now was the time to act.  She stopped blending into the crowd and began weaving illusions around herself.  Her proximity to O’Really had let her assassination talents prepare. 

Instantly, her short hair morphed into a thick head of long, blond hair.  Then, it briefly turned into a medium length, brown style she didn’t recognize.  It was very strange and otherworldly.  Finally, it settled on long and blond again. 

Maggie rolled her eyes. The idiot was conflicted about something.  She thought about going as someone other than a woman O’Really was romantically involved with; however, she decided to just go with it.  This was a quick job and shape changing like this was draining.  She considered that for a moment, forcing her hair to maintain the blond look.  It looked far less out of place in Union than the messy, brown style. She guessed it was some Riverlands trash hair.  That easterner got around. 

She had been hoping the princess would have won him over already, but, alas, that was not the case.  Maggie always felt awkward for the first few minutes in a new body, but the princess’s was one she was used to. 

As the rest of her body finished transforming, Maggie lifted a pocket mirror and looked at herself for a moment, smiling.  She was now named Jarra.  She stopped smiling.  Maggie never knew quite why, but her smile had always made her uncomfortable. 

Ever since she’d first killed someone, that is.  Everything except the moment her victim’s life left their eyes was uninteresting.  She lived for the kill.  It was the only thing that brought her any joy.  That was for later, though.  Right now, she needed to make sure her body was as perfect as it could be. 

Maggie considered making the breasts larger or the butt wider, but this body was well-proportioned enough.  She checked her daggers.  They still had some poison on them, the same poison she’d used to kill the king.  She had talents to preserve that resource.  If it was good enough for a king, the dregs were good enough for a Cleric. 

She nonchalantly walked into the stall.  She wouldn’t even have to say anything. That’s why she had Mind Control magic.  She’d just stab him, maybe in the heart, perhaps in the throat.  If a Cleric couldn’t pray, they couldn’t cast any spells. 

Maggie knew that wasn’t entirely true, but she was a thorough girl.  She could stab him in both places.

Part of the Shadow Assassin class was the morphing of your body into a perfect disguise.  She didn’t just look like this Jarra woman.  She literally became her.  It was impossible to tell the difference between them.  Maggie was damn good at what she did.  Her Shadow Image talent, coupled with Mental magic, were designed to make her much more believable.  Once, her talents had allowed her to convince a man to kill both his elderly parents and his wife before killing himself.  It was one of her fondest memories to date.

The shopkeeper looked up at her for a moment too long, and O’Really turned his head to see her.  That was his first mistake.  His second was the usual one.  He looked straight into her eyes.  That was where her magic was the strongest.  He smiled broadly, stepping toward her. 

He was larger than Maggie had expected.  For a Cleric, he had a very physical build.  Furthermore, her Lore didn’t pull any useful information about him.  That set her on edge.  Normally, her Lore gave excellent reads on her victims.  Maggie cautiously stepped toward him.  O'Really's smile grew broader, and she relaxed.  She tightly held her daggers.  As he walked toward her, she truly looked at his smile. 

It was a warm, welcoming smile, full of promise.  Maggie briefly considered waiting until later.  Murder was even more fun after sex.  However, she was under strict orders from the boss.  She walked straight up to him, as if to throw herself into his arms.  It was an old trick; get close before the target understands what is happening.  As she got within knife range, Maggie looked deeply into his blue eyes.  Her heart stopped. 

His smile didn’t extend beyond his lips.  His eyes weren’t full of love, happiness, or joy.  His eyes screamed murder. 

“Well, shit,” said Maggie.

Chapter 28 – Spiritual Disagreement in the Public Square

The horrified Fake Jarra thrust her dagger at my throat.  My hand seized her wrist, and I started grinding the bones together.  Nausea flooded into me.  Her expression shifted from horror to terror.  A second dagger materialized in her other hand, and she slashed with it.  I blocked it with my forearm and pulled her into me, face-first.

●   Basstown Headbutt successful.  Damage 18, Knockback 3 logs.

She flew backward, her body twisting to absorb the impact.  Then, her arm went taunt.  Her head snapped around, as she realized I hadn’t released my grip.  Before she could respond, I pivoted and slammed her lithe frame through a table and into the market. 

Quick Puma Check indeed.

Old habits die hard.  I’d spotted the first tail in a routine Puma Check.  At one point, there were two of them following me.  The first girl was now missing; I hadn’t quite been able to pin her down.  I was sure I hadn’t seen someone who looked like Jarra before now, though.  Where had the other woman gone? 

I glanced down at my hand.  As Fake Jarra had tried to twist free, she’d scored a hit.  A thin line of blood ran into my palm.  The poison from the dagger was already trying to kill me, but it was a Damage causing poison.  My Poisoner perk and Mitigate started gnawing on the problem.

Fake Jarra laid on the ground in the marketplace for only a moment.  Then, she sprang back to her feet, a dagger in both hands. 

“Impressive,” she sneered.  It was Jarra’s voice, but the speech pattern was off.  She couldn’t mimic her cadence.  “I’ve never had anyone manage to overcome my Shadow Image before.”

I let the length of my whip fall to the ground.  Fake Jarra noticed it and raised an eyebrow.  Unfortunately, none of my Duelist talents or Ranked skills applied to whips, but I thought that was because I hadn’t tried using any Ranked skill with my whip yet.  I executed a Quick Strike, allowing me to snap the whip at her twice.  I got my prompt. 

●   You have discovered Quick Strike: Whip.  You are at Rank 1.

Feck, I have to relearn that skill for every damn weapon.

She seemed to fade, blowing apart into three copies.  Each copy threw a dagger at me.  I executed Fancy Footwork, but, as her barrage of slashes blazed at me, I dropped my whip. 

She sneered again.  On Jarra’s face, that look nearly broke what little reserve of Willpower I still had.  At that moment, I was running on fury.  “Three unerring daggers, each coated with a different, terrible poison.  Please tell me, which one do you think will kill you first?”

“One missed,” I said.

“Either of the other two will kill you,” she answered, unperturbed.  “Please, stay here.  I want to watch.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I growled.

“Why, I’m your love.  It’s me, Jarra,” she grinned.  Then, her body shifted into that of my Earth wife. “Or, maybe, I’m whoever the hell this is.”

“Jim, calm down,” yelled Shart, as my rage dangerously expanded. 

“Give in to your anger, Jim,” called Badgelor.  He seemed much more reasonable.  “Let the hate flow through you!”

I stepped toward her, the daggers she’d thrown at me in my hands.  My wife’s shocked face always amused me.  I was going to cut it off of whoever the hell this was.

With a flick of her wrists, both daggers vanished from my hands.  I kicked up my whip.  Catching it, I charged toward her.  Lashing out with my fifteen feet of tough leather, I snapped after her lightly armored body.  Another dagger flew toward me.  I snatched it out of the air and flung it back at her. Her entire body bent backward at an impossible angle, as the dagger flew past.  I whipped at her again.

●   Smiting Whip Strike: Damage: 16, Effect: Painful, Damage is tripled for pain threshold

She shrieked, her body suddenly collapsing in on itself.  Now, she was the young, checker-clad performer who had been sneaking after me in the market.  I found her name tag.  Maggie.  Well, Maggie was going to die.  I whipped her twice more.  Each time, she was barely able to get out of the way. 

Suddenly she vanished.  I tumbled forward, as she materialized behind me.  She followed triumphantly, closing with her paired daggers and executing her own special move.

●   Maggie has executed Thousand Cuts.  You have been attacked by 8 attacks, each strike causes 5 points of Damage.  Your Fancy Footwork skill is Advanced.  You avoid 5 of the attacks.  You have been struck for 9 points of Damage. You are poisoned 3 times.  All attacks are partially negated.  You suffer 60% of Poison Damage.  Your Poisoner perk reduces Poison Damage by half.  Your Herbalism reduces Poison Damage by 2 x Rank, 10%.  Would you like to negate the remaining 20% poison for 25 Stamina per effect? <Yes/No>

The expression of triumph on her face vanished, as I managed to trap one of her wrists with my whip.  I flung her as far as I could.  She flipped through the air before loudly slamming into a vegetable cart.

“My cabbages!” screamed the proprietor, a distraught looking man.

Maggie shakily got to her feet and stared at my steady Health bar.  “You can’t have negated that much poison,” she growled. 

“Maybe you aren’t very good at making poison,” I replied, stepping into the middle of the rapidly clearing market.  I crushed a volleyball-sized cabbage underfoot, as Maggie considered her next move.  My Stamina was refilling, so I decided to give her a moment.  I wanted to be at full-strength when I killed her.

“There is no chance you are Disguised,” she grumbled.  “I’d have been able to kill you already.  There is only one other option.  You are a Remort.”

“And?” I shot back.

“I haven’t killed a Remort before,” she grinned.  “You get to be my first.  You always remember your first.” 

“You haven’t considered something,” I said coldly.

“What is that?” she asked, her grin continuing to grow.

“In order to kill a Remort, you have to fight a fucking Remort,” I replied, throwing a head of cabbage straight into the air.  She was too smart to pay it much mind.  It didn’t matter. While she was preparing for her next attack, I jumped nearly a dozen feet into the air and slapped my open palm against the cabbage.

●   Volleyball Skill activated.  You’ve served a cabbage!

The nice thing about Shart’s previous size was that he was the perfect practice object.  I’d slapped him around in combat before and knew what I was doing.  Not only that, but sports skills didn’t require many Skill Points to level up.  I’d easily become an Expert in Volleyball, allowing me to hit volleyball-sized objects with deadly accuracy. 

Maggie attempted to Dodge, but, with that much spin on the cabbage, she misjudged.  The vegetable smashed directly into her face.

●   My Cabbage: Expert rank in Volleyball allows for Power Serve!  Damage: 9, Effect: Knockback, 3 logs. 

The cabbage didn’t just impact; it exploded, propelling her backward.  Maggie slammed into a very nice-looking stone lamp, shattering it.  From there, she went twirling through the air and down some steps.  She landed near the grand fountain in the middle of the town square.

“You utter asshole,” she screamed, as a second batch of fresh, green goodness slammed into her head, knocking her back to the ground.  I glared at her from the top of the steps, as she began spitting out leafy, green herbs.

“Cilantro?  I hate cilantro!  That stuff tastes like soap,” she growled.  I had grabbed the nearest thing to throw at her, and that had just happened to be a huge bunch of cilantro.  I liked the stuff.  Ashe put it on everything.  Only someone so far gone as to be pure evil hated cilantro. 

Maggie’s expression would have been funny, if I wasn’t about to rip her head off. 

It was then that I realized something.  Maggie had a dodge build, and her ability to shrug off Damage was lousy.  As she spat out more of the herbs, I took a moment to go all caped crusader on her. 

●   Maggie has suffered 48 points of assorted Bludgeoning Damage.  She is suffering from the following effects: Biff, Zok, Kapow, Bam! 

A handful of people had remained to watch the fight.  Now, they were screaming and scrambling to flee in any available direction.  Maggie got shakily to her feet.  She must have had a skill that let her sneak healing potions, while she was making other attacks.  That was the only reason she was still standing. 

When Maggie finally looked up from beside the fountain, she didn’t see me.  She started searching around, realizing far too late that I was behind her.  The Assassin tried to spin around, but, by then, I had her.  She choked as my whip, used like a garrote, wrapped around her neck.  She didn’t have time to react. 

“Strike her down,” yelled Badgelor.  I pulled the whip tighter, until her eyes started bulging.  She began kicking and thrashing, but I was crushing her neck to my chest.  She didn’t have anywhere to go. 

“Jim, I don’t mind you killing her.  In truth, I’m all for it.  However, this is kind of dark for you,” said Shart.

I ignored them.  Maggie had tried to kill me, and O’Really didn’t forgive shit like that.  Her actions merited a very messy death.  I pulled the whip tighter, as she started scrabbling desperately.  Then, I heard a scream.  A little blond girl was screaming.  I had heard that kind of cry before, and I frantically looked around for the monster.  I peered into the fountain and saw a terrible face, a horrible rictus grin reflected back.  That little girl was screaming at me.  I was the monster. 

My rage snapped.  Growling, I yanked both ends of my whip, using it as a slingshot to fling the Assassin into the fountain.  She caused a massive splash that sent water careening over everything in a five-log radius.  Maggie's head came out of the water.  She was gasping for breath, which was hard to do with a bruised throat.  I wasn’t sure what to do with her anymore. 

“Hey there, chum,” came a voice from behind me.  I turned and saw the boy from the church.  He had pulled his headband back into what could have been the Ordinal equivalent of a scrunchie. 

“Twinkle?” I asked, examining his name tag. 

“At your service,” he bowed, his forehead almost touching the ground.  He held that pose for a long moment.  Maggie hacked, and I turned my head slightly.  At that moment, Twinkle struck.  He flew forward in a series of spinning kicks that looked like a move straight out of Street Fighter. 

●   Block successful: Mitigate reduced knockback from 1 log to zero.  Combo Broken!

He didn’t weigh much.  As he swung at me, I grabbed his leg.  He looked at my hand that was holding his limb for a moment.  Then, he looked at my face.  Finally, he shrugged to himself, before twisting around and pivoting his other heel at my head.  He had kicked out with bone-crushing force, and I barely pulled my head away in time. 

Twinkle broke free of my grasp and landed on the fountain.  Standing on top of the water, he looked over to Maggie.  “Well, I see why you were having so much trouble.”

“He’s a Remort,” she coughed, clutching her throat.

“Well, shit,” stated Twinkle. 

Chapter 29 – Samson and Jim

Hardragon rubbed his cheek.  No one had slapped him in years.  Admittedly, he probably deserved it.  Still, it was very disrespectful.  Glancing in the mirror, he decided to wait a bit before going out into public.  No sense in showing my marred face around town.

Julia glared fiercely at him; her cheek also marked with a handprint.  Of course, he’d slapped her back.  He wasn’t going to let her get away with hitting him, even if he did deserve it.  Perhaps he should have removed his gauntlet first, though. 

“Where are we?” Julia hissed, finally deciding that none of her loose teeth were going anywhere.

“In a basement, just outside the town square,” replied Hardragon, honest with her once again.  After all, he’d only ever lied to her once.  It was just the kind of lie that permanently ruined your relationship.

“Why did you let someone kill my father?” screamed Julia.

“So, you figured it out,” said Hardragon, sitting next to her.  With her hands bound and the collar on, she wasn’t much of a threat.  Still, Hardragon watched her carefully. 

“You were supposed to be his bodyguard, and you betrayed him,” she said coldly.  The princess added much more softly, “And me.”

Hardragon remembered that night quite well.  Julia had been thrilled to see him.  Her father was safe in the castle, so he’d used that opportunity to suggest that they might go dally for a bit.  He’d needed to get the real Julia away from the castle.  Then, the disguised Maggie had gone to kill the king. 

In retrospect, he supposed that having Julia captured that night was stretching incredulity a bit far.  It didn’t matter.  Everyone had seen the killer.  Just that morning, Julia had been an influential political figure in her own right.  Overnight, she was a murderer, taken off all boards and out of any positions of power.  She’d also been kidnapped, held in a chalet in the middle of nowhere.

Hardragon was honest enough with himself to admit his reports to the boss were directly responsible for the princess’s fate.  Julia was very passionate about everything and tended to talk after their dalliances.  The fact that she was the most beloved of the king had meant she could turn her wayward ideas into policy.  The boss declared that she needed neutralizing, which is how Hardragon ended up with Maggie and a collared Julia.

The collar was the ultimate indignity.  Without it, Julia would be a significant threat to even someone of his strength.  The boss hadn’t even felt right about him holding the key, assigning that task to Su-Kar.  It was the sort of petty garbage the boss did to remind Hardragon how little she respected him. 

The sounds of the battle outside spoke to the fact that Maggie had sprung her little trap early.  She was supposed to wait.  Somehow, Hardragon was not the least little bit surprised that Maggie had gone off script.  Phillip and Su-Kar weren’t even in town yet.  Then again, that crazy bitch had killed the king.  Hardragon didn’t suspect that anyone would be much of a threat to Maggie, as long as they didn’t see through her disguise. 

“I had no choice,” he said. No sense in lying anymore. 

They sat quietly for a few moments. The silence was only broken by the occasional sound of stone shattering.  A fight that should have been over before it started was still going on after a minute.  Then, two minutes had passed, then five.  Based on all the noises coming from the square, O’Really was apparently quite good at running away. 

“What’s going to happen to my bodyguard?” Julia asked during a break from the destruction.

“We are going to kill him, just as soon as we can catch him,” answered Hardragon.

“And me?” she asked a bit more timidly.

“Actually, I’m going to let you achieve your quest,” stated Hardragon.  That instruction had come in his last meeting with the boss, after he had reported the success of the mission against the king. 

Julia looked at him for a moment, the question in her eyes apparent, until she ran down the logical chain of it.  “You are going to let me summon the demon?  No!  I won’t do it.  If I summon him, no one else will be able to for a hundred years!”

Hardragon smiled sadly.  “That’s the point.”

Julia inhaled, feeling the collar at her neck.  She had been trying to work through her bonds, but Hardragon knew his knots.  From past, much more fun experiences, she knew that quite well.  He walked back over to the slit window.  Peering outside, Hardragon tried to catch a glimpse of the fight.  He didn’t have a good view of the square, in the first place.  On top of that, a battle between even medium level adventurers tended to be a mobile one. 

They had wrecked the fountain.  It was from Grebthar’s days.  The Temple of Rogers had fared no better, with several of its massive pillars shattered.  Hardragon caught sight of Twinkle, who was attempting to kick something.  Maggie followed the elf closely.  Hardragon frowned.

Hardragon understood the elf trying to beat down a wounded man, but Maggie getting involved in a protracted melee fight was highly unusual.  Her build was so front-loaded that her target was usually dead long before they had a chance to react.  Maggie went flying a moment later, and Twinkle sprung backward, only to be caught by a whip, of all things.  The elf was promptly smashed into another pillar. 

As they gathered themselves up for another round, Hardragon noticed something unexpected.  They were not moving toward O’Really; they were moving away from him.  They weren’t chasing Julia’s bodyguard; her bodyguard was chasing them. 

His blood ran cold.  They were losing badly. 

“Explain,” called out Hardragon, as he whirled around and reached for his sword.

“He’s a Remort,” grinned Julia evilly.

“Well, shit,” stated Hardragon. 

***

I watched my two opponents try to pick themselves back up.  I had gotten over the notion of brutally murdering them, but that didn’t mean they were going to live through the fight. 

The elf slammed his shoulder into a pillar with a crack, successfully driving his arm back into its socket.  Streaks of mud ran down Twinkle’s beautiful face, from where I had slammed him into an orchid planter.  Worse, his hair was a mess.  Still, he looked better than the crazy girl.

Maggie groaned, stumbling to her feet.  That last exchange had not gone well for her.  She was so deep into potion sickness that even another powerful Stamina potion wasn’t going to pull her out of her current predicament.  I snapped my whip.  Her eyes focused on it with a hint of terror. 

I was fine.  My Stamina was still replenishing, but the nature of this kind of combat gave me enough time to activate my Regeneration spell between clashes.  While taking Damage stopped the healing effect, not much else did.  My opponent’s main problem was that they weren’t getting enough hits in through my defenses to negate my healing. 

Aside from leveling the entire market, things had been going pretty well.  The town guard had finally decided to surround us.  They weren’t getting involved in the fight, though.  In Warcraft, the town guards were inhuman killing machines, easily capable of slaughtering even high-level characters.  On Ordinal, they were just the town militia, and this place hadn’t developed them properly.  The highest level I’d seen was level 20.  Fighting an adventurer wasn’t a match up any guards were willing to entertain.

“There are two of us!” growled Maggie.  “We need to both keep on him.  Don’t let him have a chance to heal!”

“Pool’s open, and the water’s fine,” I taunted.

Twinkle exhaled loudly.  “Tisk Tisk, young lady, I think we’ve been too gracious to our guest.  I think it's time to draw out the big guns.  Let's show him our true powers!”  He smirked at her, and she returned a blank expression.  Twinkle groaned.  “Seriously, nothing in the tank? You didn’t use your power right before you attacked him, did you? “

Maggie looked miserably at the elf. 

“Fine!  I’ll handle it myself,” stated the elf hotly. 

There was a Last Airbender live action movie.  It was horrible.  Every character in it seemed to dance around any time they made their special moves.  These were some slow-ass, methodical dances that didn’t seem to do very much.  That was basically what the elf was doing right now.

It looked sort of like a dance fight that you’d see in those old musicals.  I practically expected Twinkle to start snapping his fingers at any moment.  I considered it might be some elaborate trick, designed to allow Maggie to sneak up on me.  It wasn’t.  She was watching the elf intently, like this was the most magical thing ever.  As he finished, Twinkle, which was, is, and always will be a stupid name, and I didn’t think that just because he had kicked me in the balls five times in rapid succession, held his hand flat, palm up, giving me the universal ‘bring it’ sign. 

“He just activated the Five Palm Burning Tiger stance,” stated Shart.  “That’s kind of dangerous.” 

I was still fighting with a whip.  I supposed that I should upgrade.  My skill rank had increased from Journeyman to Advanced.  While that hadn’t unlocked any new perks, I could still do quite a bit more with a whip than I ever really thought possible.  Glancing over to the guards, I saw one with his sword still in its sheath.  I snapped my whip at him. 

●   Quick Steal: Activated, Successful!

My Quick Steal didn’t work well if my victim’s Perception was too high.  It also didn’t work if a person didn’t have anything to steal.  Thus, my opponents had been safe from that particular attack.  The guards were a different story.  The sword came loose and flew through the air.  I snatched it and used my Expert rank Swords to perform a little kata for the jerk.

Maggie paled, her voice verging on hysteria.  “He’s just fucking with us.”

“I’m in my most powerful stance,” growled Twinkle, his feet aflame.  “Stop freaking out.”

“If you are in Five Palm Burning Tiger stance, why are your feet burning?” I questioned.

“I’ve got the Devil’s Knees perk.  It lets me apply all hand techniques to my feet,” replied the elf, looking shocked.  Apparently, just guessing someone’s best move offhand was enough to rattle even an elf Monk. 

I glanced at the elf for a moment, a question entering my mind.  “Shart, is that stance magical?”

Shart paused.  “Of course, why?”

●   Counterspell: Activated, Contested!

Twinkle’s eyes opened wider, as I disrupted his carefully wrought stance.  He was used to having his stance disrupted, but he wasn’t expecting it while fighting me.  If you were fighting a caster who knew the Counterspell skill, you typically didn’t have to use a magically enhanced killing stance.  If you fought a melee type, they didn’t know the Counterspell skill.

The elf had intended to go on the defense and let me come to him.  I was still willing to do that, but only after I tore down his stance.  He knew he needed the stance active to win.  Seeing his options dwindle, Twinkle chose to rush me.  As he closed, he launched himself into a series of flaming kicks.

You’d think sharp steel versus leg wouldn’t be much of a contest, but Ordinal would disagree with you.  Twinkle came in with his legs wrapped in a magical field that allowed them to parry my sword strikes.  He only landed a single kick against my shoulder, though.  I managed to get past his guard and slash into his abdomen. 

Blood fountained from his wound.  His strike burned through the last remaining tatters of my shirt, exposing my nearly undamaged shoulder.  My Dragon Scales perk was scaling with my level, rendering basic Elemental Damage types almost ineffective on me.  That, coupled with my Duelist perks, made me an incredibly tanky individual.  Plus, I had healing spells. 

Twinkle separated from me, trying to hold in his guts.  Maggie closed, her daggers flashing in a chaotic pattern.  She didn’t have enough Stamina left to break into her multiform attack.  Despite her rather skilled use of the weapons, I was able to keep her away, using my sword and superior maneuverability. 

I activated my Riposte talent at the perfect moment, slashing the blade up her wrist.  She shrieked and stumbled.  One of her daggers went sailing off into the distance.  I had been trying to remove her whole hand, but she was quick.  She kept the appendage, but it now hung uselessly at her side.  Twinkle was on me instantly, launching into a powerful kick from medium range.  I shouldered the attack and used Mitigate.  Then, I executed a powerful headbutt that sent him slamming into the ground, stunned. 

That’s when I heard the sound of metal armor rushing at me, like a freight train.  I turned to see a man wearing all black armor.  He was wielding a glowing, magical sword and charging straight at me.  His helmet was odd.  It looked similar to a dragon’s head.  As I watched, it sprang open, exposing a hawk-like face and piercing blue eyes.  It would have been totally intimidating, if not for the hand-sized mark marring his cheek. 

●   Dragon’s Roar:  You have been targeted by a Dragon’s Roar.  This Sonic Force attack bypasses normal defenses.  You suffer 62 points of Damage.  Effect: Knockback 12 logs, Stun: 4.6 seconds. 

I hit the Temple of Rogers hard enough to leave a crater in its already damaged side.  Cracks ran up the side of the building.  Another pillar, the last one still standing, fell to the ground and shattered.  After what seemed like minutes, gravity exerted itself.  I fell to the ground and glared at the asshole.

Then, the elf smashed into my chest with a powerful kick, causing the temple to further crack.  I was stunned, completely unable to respond.  Twinkle was able to get in several powerful blows.  He tagged out, and Maggie drove toward me, smiling the most disconcerting smile I had ever seen.  She was going to slam her dagger into my eye.

●   Stun Expired

I caught her good wrist, causing her smile to dissolve into shock.  Crushing her arm with all my strength, I listened to the bones snap.  Then, I tossed her aside.  I continued to glare at the asshole in the armor.  Twinkle’s attacks had only caused minimal Damage, due to his lack of Stamina.  Maggie was out of it entirely, both wrists destroyed.  That only left this new prick. 

Hardragon was his name.  He was doubled up on the ground, spitting out blood.  I managed one step toward him, before he stood back up.  I thought he was shocked.  I didn’t have a chance to move in, though.  He immediately roared again.  This time, it was more potent than the first or, maybe, the temple was just in worse shape.  I remembered seeing the nose of his helmet shatter, right before I exploded through a wall.  I got unsteadily to my feet, blood pouring from both ears.  The entire temple began to shake. 

The ground beneath me split open, and I started to fall.  I braced myself to jump, but a massive hunk of stone struck me.  Everything went dark, as I tumbled down.

Chapter 30 – Aftermath

The elf’s eyebrows were just about to the peak of his head by the time the rumbling stopped.  The majestic Temple of Rogers, the temple Twinkle’s grandfather had called old, had collapsed.  The entirety of the building had fallen into the ruins it had been built upon. 

Checking on his party nearly made him gag.  Maggie was grabbing onto a handrail with the hand attached to her broken wrist.  With one massive, noisy jerk, she managed to set it.  She next produced a syringe full of healing potion.  Using her foot and other ruined wrist, she injected half the contents into the wound.  She quivered as the healing kicked in.  From there, she began working on her other hand.

“Enjoying the show?” she asked, as Twinkle turned his head away, already green.  Humans were disgusting, no matter how you sliced it. 

Hardragon was still heaving.  He’d used his talent twice.  Twinkle hadn’t even known that was possible.  Filing that knowledge away for later, the elf pulled out a Restoration potion and handed it to the human.  It was such a waste, using a full elven potion on a mere human.  However, Twinkle hadn’t thought to stock up on human swill, and a good dog deserved a treat.

“Did anyone get experience?” Hardragon hissed in a hoarse whisper.  Twinkle tried not to smirk.  Judging by Hardragon’s expression, he failed.  Oh, well.  The commander’s current voice sounded like a lich that was suffering from strep. 

Twinkle checked his experience log and noticed that he didn’t have any.  At least, not yet.  “He’s probably pinned down there, getting crushed to death.”

“Do we need to go down and finish the job?” asked Maggie, concerned.  Twinkle glanced her way and regretted it.  She had the syringe in her other forearm and was flexing fingers.  Occasionally, she would inject more healing potion.  Upon close inspection, she decided one of her fingers had not healed right.  She twisted it until the bone cracked and gave it a quick injection. 

As an elf, Twinkle had a constant low-level Regeneration that befitted his long-lived status.  His wounds would heal true, restoring his body to its perfect, original glory.  He could already feel the bones in his arm repairing themselves.  It was only a matter of time.  Considering that, Twinkle activated the Hair Styling skill that all elves practiced.  He watched as loops of hair formed into a proper network.  Checking the elaborate style, Twinkle sighed. It was good to feel like a man again.

Within moments, he was back to the usual level of perfection that he demanded of himself.  It was a good thing, too, because Twinkle heard several sets of footsteps heading toward them.  It wouldn’t do to appear ragged in front of the incoming dolts.  Jabbing Hardragon in the side, Twinkle turned to face his most and least favorite team members.

Phillip was a massive brute of a human.  He always acted before thinking, and he had so much body hair.  Phillip smelled terrible, was gruff, and, generally, fit every stereotype of what a human was in the eyes of the elves.  Out of everyone on the team, Twinkle liked Phillip the most. 

Su-Kar was there, too.  Twinkle immediately noticed all the work she’d had done.  The clear lines of cosmetic healing were fresh.  Twinkle grinned at her, and she gave him a death glare back.  Su-Kar liked to think that she was cultured.  She wasn’t. 

Between the two of them was the haggard-looking princess.

“She escaped?” gasped Hardragon, as he struggled to straighten up.  Phillip looked concerned, Maggie looked bored, and Su-Kar was scheming, as usual. 

“Found her just outside the hideout,” stated Phillip.  “With the bodyguard gone, she is much easier to get.”

“Is he dead?” Su-Kar asked.  Her voice carried more heat than Twinkle would have expected.

“I just got the experience for him.  He’s not getting out of there,” grinned Maggie. 

Twinkle checked his log.  He, likewise, had a heaping pile of experience.  It represented more than half a level.  It really was a shame that there were not more Remorts around.  Then again, he still felt a slight twinge in his arm.  He decided that one Remort was probably enough.  The thought of a properly equipped O’Really was outright terrifying.

The princess choked back a sob.  Twinkle rolled his eyes.  Humans died so quickly, anyway.  What did a few years sooner than anticipated really matter?

Maggie just nodded.  “Her bodyguard is dead, and we captured the princess.  I’m guessing I’m not needed anymore?”  She spoke to them all, but only Hardragon’s opinion mattered here.  He looked up at the princess.  Tears were pouring down her cheeks, as she silently sobbed.  Hardragon nodded.

“Well, I’m off to the Riverlands.  I have to go visit someone.”  Maggie grinned at the princess and turned away.  Twinkle considered that.  If Maggie had been part of the permanent team, Twinkle knew she would have been at the top of his list of disliked people.  He almost felt sorry for the poor dog that the boss had ordered Maggie to kill next.  Almost.  The target was probably human, and it was tough to get worked up for one of those.  Maggie turned back and grinned at him, her usual grin without any joy in it.  Then, she vanished. 

Hardragon gestured for the rest of them to get closer, before he began to hoarsely whisper out the plan.  The goal was as expected. They were going to be leaving soon and heading to the old temple up north.  If they hurried, it was a day and a half of walking through the woods.

Twinkle groaned.  Elves had no business being in the dirty woods. 

Chapter 31 – Buried Alive

It was dark.  Not the regular kind of dark either.  It was that pitch-black darkness that you only get when you are so far underground that even the vague notion of light seems like a joke.  Even with my heightened senses, all I could perceive was the piddly distance around my head. 

I figured I was about a mile underground, give or take, with an entire temple smashing deep into my back.  I couldn’t get my feet appropriately positioned to be able to push back without significant difficulty.  I was annoyed.  If I were going to be crushed to death, I’d like to be comfortable while it happened.  More annoying was the message I was currently receiving:

●   You are trapped.  You are unable to escape without assistance.  If this condition persists, you will eventually perish. 

I tried to shift the rubble at my feet again, but that only caused my Stamina to drop further.  A large, uneven rock was wedged between my knees, keeping me from shifting in any way that would help support the weight.  Without semi-stable footing, I was continually taking both Health and Stamina Damage, which was preventing my Healing magic from working correctly. 

The Regeneration spell worked, in fits and starts.  A conventional healing spell would have had problems.  If I’d tried to cast it, it probably would have deformed my back.  Regeneration restored your body to ‘normal’ but only worked for a few seconds at a time in conditions like this.

“What the hell happened?” I yelled.  I had been winning right up until I wasn’t.  I couldn’t figure out how that asshole had managed to blast me with whatever that was.

“He was using a trait,” stated Shart evenly.

“What kind of trait?” I asked, casting another Regeneration spell that immediately fizzled out.  The spell’s current record was 9 seconds.   

“He Roared,” said Shart.  “Some people have Roar traits. They are rare, ranked traits.”

“Is that like Magical Yelling?” I questioned.

“It is not like magical yelling!” screamed Shart.  “It’s not used for communication, just blasting you into things,” 

I grunted. Magical Yelling had defeated me.  Somehow, I always knew it would.  “Welp, I’ve dreaded dying while trapped in a deep, dark hole ever since the mine incident,” I replied.  “Do you have any ideas on how we can get out of this?”

“I’m still working on it,” replied Shart.  “I don’t suppose it occurred to you to check your character sheet?”

That always seemed to be the go-to response when Shart didn’t have any ideas.  Then again, neither did I.

●   Level up, Cleric 8

●   Your Hit Points have increased, your maximum Hit Points are now 470

●   Your Mana has increased, your Maximum Mana is now 130. 

●   You have gained the spell, Hammerspace

●   You have gained a Talent Point

●   You have earned one stat bump

I quickly dumped the buff into my Charisma stat.  It seemed to be the one stat that did the most good for a Cleric. 

“Hammerspace?” I asked, bringing up the spell menu and hoping. 

“The first Clerics that came up with it were the Clerics of Tony.  Their favored weapon was a hammer.”

I thought about that for a second. That was about as shoehorned in as one could manage and still have it be believable.  If this were a TV show, I’d be deadpanning at the camera right now. 

●   Hammerspace, you have a dimensional storage compartment that can hold equipment based on its size.  Base size is 1 cubic log.

That’s not very big,” I said, remembering that Shart had expanded my dimensional storage.  “Did that expansion you gave my storage not carry over?”

“It did,” replied Shart.  “You technically only have one character-bound dimensional storage, and everything just feeds into it.  If you have access from multiple sources, then it expands accordingly.  You have a spell that grants you access, so you should have a tab for it now.”

Remembering my dimensional sheath, I started to bring it up with Shart.  However, it occurred to me that I had always been able to tell if the sheath was empty or full.  That, coupled with the fact that it was only supposed to hold one weapon, meant that I never got much of an interface for it on my character sheet.  Searching, I found a new tab called Storage.  I brought it up to see what the exact size of my dimensional storage was.

●   Dimensional storage: 1,200,001 cubic logs, plus 1 weapon.

I blinked.  1.2 million?  That was the size of the Houston Astrodome.  I recalled Shart saying he had a large amount of dimensional storage, but that was insane.  It got weirder, though.  I flipped open the storage tab, which listed everything in the storage.  My eyes grew wider as I read.

“You are a magpie,” I said flatly.

“What?” replied Shart casually.  “I just like to collect shiny thin…” he trailed off.  “Oh, ha-ha, I get it.  Guilty as charged.”

Shart had stored an insane amount of crap in our dimensional storage.  I had forty-seven destroyed hat racks, every shard of stained glass from Windfall Cathedral, and hundreds of cheap baubles that he must have swiped from anywhere and everywhere.  That was just the tip of the iceberg.  And what the hell is this book called My Inner Shart.  I was certain I had seen it before.

I braced the massive hunk of stone I was lifting with my back and cast Hammerspace. Calling out, “Ranma, no Baka,” a small glowing portal snapped into existence next to me.  The portal looked much more substantial than my dimensional sheath.  I pressed lightly against its edge, surprised to find a thin barrier around it that prevented me from cutting my finger on the sharp edge of the portal. 

I began to ease my arm in and feel around.  I was in up to my forearm when I encountered a sticky substance.  I quickly yanked my arm free, only to find the sticky, pink material solidifying as soon as it crossed the barrier.  It began to dissolve and ooze down my arm, most of it evaporating before making it past my elbow.  That was fine by me.  Whatever it was reeked.

“What the hell is that?” I asked, staring at the disappearing goo.  None of my skills determined it to be useful.

“It's part of my guts. You reached in and started poking around right behind my belly button,” said Shart.  “It kind of tickled.”

Grumbling, I let the portal fail and again called out “Ranma, no Baka,” causing it to reform.  This time, I pictured what I wanted, or selected it from my storage tab, if there was a difference.  The portal opened somewhere deep in the core of Shart.  I reached in and found one of the two bottles that were still there.  I quickly pulled one out.

A delicate hand had lightly scored the cork.  It read, “Jim, I believe in you.”  I held the Stamina potion for a long moment.

“Maybe move with a bit more urgency, Dum Dum.  You are running out of Stamina,” said Shart.  I felt my legs begin to wobble.

“It still smells like her,” I sighed, biting into the cork and spitting it into the darkness.  I drained the whole bottle in one gulp.  Instantly, my tiring muscles were restored.  I pushed up into the hunk of pillar, buying myself a few more inches.

Whoever said size doesn’t matter was a liar.   

While that bought me a bit more time, I was still being crushed to death by a million tons of rock.  If I could only get my feet squarely down, the situation would be a bit more tolerable.  “Shart, is there a way to make the portal bigger?  I could place some of these rocks into storage.”

“Why not just cast Hammerspace on the rock?” suggested Shart.  Glancing back at the spell description, I noticed it had touch-based effects.  I placed my hand on the rock between my feet and cast the spell. 

Nothing happened.

“Read more carefully, Dum Dum,” sighed Shart.

I did so and groaned.  “Ranma, no Baka” just seemed more appropriate.  Whatever.  “Rock, no Baka!”

It vanished into my pocket dimension, and I was finally able to get both feet squarely on the ground. 

“Well, this is going to be interesting,” I declared.  Suddenly, every rock down here was Saotome, and he’d just accidentally kissed Shampoo.  “Rock, no Baka!”

A bit later, Shart spoke up, “I think I have indigestion.”

“Uh-huh,” I muttered distractedly, as I tried to judge the ceiling structure with my Engineering skill.  I decided it was stable enough, though the pocket I’d managed to create was nowhere near the size I wanted it to be.  Also, there was still no way out.  At least I wasn’t being crushed to death anymore.  I considered that to be a massive improvement.

“Were you trying to get every rock in the world to replace the ones you were teleporting away, or was that just a happy coincidence?” grumbled the demon.

“Shart, no Baka,” I replied.

“Did you seriously just try to put me into my own dimensional storage?” grumbled Shart. 

“You aren’t here,” I stated in response, leaning up against one of the rocks.

“That’s not funny!” the demon exclaimed.  “I’d be stuck inside out!”

“That sounds painful,” I replied.  Turning hopeful, I asked, “How painful would it be?”

“I would be in constant agony, you twit,” growled Shart. 

“That sounds like fun,” stated Badgelor.

“You stay out of this,” snapped Shart.  I could swear that I heard the clash of his fingers on some invisible keyboard somewhere. 

Glancing up, I analyzed the ceiling again.  I could tell that it was strong, but that didn’t help me much.  The town was up there, and I didn’t want to compromise its stability.  Anything I did brought down more rocks.  Eventually, that would compromise the ceiling and the city.  I also discovered that I couldn’t just teleport chunks of an object away.  Teleportation was an all-or-nothing proposition.  The larger the object, the more Mana it cost to move to storage.  My practical limit was eighteen cubic logs, before I went into Mana Crash.  That was how I’d found myself wedged between two large boulders, with a third creating a makeshift roof that kept the rest of the rocks off me. 

“I’m stuck in a hole. Where are you?” I asked Badgelor.

“Poor Jim, all stuck in a hole.  If only he had his mighty Badgelor to get him out,” replied the mighty badger.  “If you must know, I’m around three leagues outside of Union.”

“How did you get that close?” I asked.

“Well, you see, there are always wagons going up and down the road.  No one will refuse a badger passage,” stated Badgelor, quite full of himself.  “I was hoping to meet you on the road, but you apparently went and got stuck.”

“Sweet, I’m going to summon you,” I stated, starting the spell.

“Wait!  We don’t know for sure how far apart we are.  It depends on how far underground you...” Badgelor began.  However, before he could finish his statement, he popped into existence next to me.  “It might be handier to approach this from the outside.”

“Badgelor!” I exclaimed, moving to hug my battle pet.  He stuck out one clawed fist and growled, looking around.

“Oh, yay, Badgelor’s here,” Shart monotoned.  “That’s just bloody fantastic, isn’t it?” 

“Well, this is right shite,” Badgelor stated, sniffing around.  “Nothing is stable.  If I dig a hole in any direction, the whole thing is likely to collapse, ya daft bugger.”

“But you have Badger Digging powers,” I said.

“That’s not how Badger Digging powers work, ya fecker,” replied Badgelor, bowing his head.  “Shart, ye wee lil beastie, please tell me you know where I can dig to”

“There is a cavern nearby,” stated Shart.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the cavern?” I exclaimed.

“You most likely would have collapsed all this rubble on top of yourself trying to get there,” replied the demon.

“Fair point,” I grumbled.  Badgelor expanded to his War Form.  His larger, Ultimate Form wouldn’t fit in our cramped, rocky quarters.  Carefully, he started digging in the direction Shart ordered. 

“Grab me by the tail!  We’ll just work our way through,” stated Badgelor.

“Didn’t I grab you by the neck last time?” I asked, grabbing for Badgelor’s tail. 

“Last time wasn’t solid rock.  It was mostly dirt,” he complained and began to dig in earnest.  Sharp, hard bits of stone bounced off my skin, as Badgelor slowly carved a hole into the stone ground.

“Can’t you dig any faster than that?” I asked, causing the badger to grunt in an irritated fashion.  The request proved to be a mistake, as the small fragments of rock began coming in far greater amounts.  I was suddenly and quite viciously tugged under the stone floor with Badgelor.  A rock chip wedged itself underneath my eyelid, and, for an instant, my grip slackened.

Badgelor was not exactly excavating a tunnel.  He was making a pocket, of which he was the center.  I was directly behind him.  If I got dropped, I was getting buried in a hole full of sharp rock fragments with no real hope of digging my way out.  There was so much noise that I couldn’t yell for him to stop.  The only way to survive this was to travel with Badgelor. 

My hand lurched forward, and I managed to strengthen my hold on Badgelor’s tail.  I squeezed harder.  Now that I had a good grip, Badgelor began digging faster.  The increased speed caused even more chunks of rock to hit me.  I squeezed harder again.  By that point, we were in full turbo mode.  I didn’t know how far away the cavern was, but we were out of the rocks in record time.  We exploded from the floor and slammed into the ground three logs away from the hole. 

“That was not my tail, ye bastard!” screamed Badgelor.

“Uh, if you and Badgelor need a moment...” Shart trailed off.

“Worst hand job ever,” hissed the badger.

Chapter 32 – The most terrifying of monsters

The cavern was a magical place, in that I could sense magic in all directions.  The walls were pulsing with enough magic that the entire area glowed a faint seafoam green color.  My Perception skill went into high gear, trying to use the dim light to let me see around the cavern.  It only took a few moments for me to realize that this cavern was some sort of ancient town square.  There was a fountain in the center, along with some mostly destroyed temples to gods I didn’t recognize.

Mind you, there were some more subtle differences between this square and the ones I was accustomed to.  The most significant was that there was a cave roof about thirty feet above me.  This gave the whole square a dangerous feeling, as if you could be crushed at any moment.  I could see some portions of the ceiling had collapsed over the years, filling parts of the square with debris.  Also different were the monsters liberally scattered throughout the chamber.  Finally, and most seriously, was the lack of meat pie merchants. 

After that last battle, I’d worked up a powerful hunger. 

“This place sucks,” I groaned.

“Better than the alternative,” replied Shart.  I nodded and looked around.  I realized one of the monsters was entirely too close to where Badgelor was sprawled out, piteously groaning about his two best friends.  He was not talking about Shart and me. 

●   Ghoulster, Undead 25

●   HP 60/60

I didn’t get anything else.  I still had the enhanced Woodsman’s Lore from my time as a Woodsman, but it wasn’t quite as detailed as when I had class levels in Woodsman.  I decided that, with Badgelor occupied with his testicular troubles, I’d just kill this monster and make the area safe again. 

I quietly hissed out the words of power, a feat in this super quiet room.  The small, glowing portal appeared, unnoticed by the Ghoulster.  Upon reflection, Badgelor was not being particularly quiet with checking his bits, and we had just exploded through the floor.  Maybe this Ghoulster just wasn’t paying that much attention.

I’d lost my sword when the world collapsed on top of me.  I still had my whip, but experience told me that an undead was going to be far from impressed with a whip.  I checked my Storage tab and groaned.   Weapons had not been a massive priority in my Storage.  I unexpectedly found Grebthar’s Sword, the weapon I had used to nearly kill the bastard. 

●   Grebthar’s Sword, a sword magically enchanted by the great hero Grebthar to defeat a Great Threat.  The weapon has the Broken condition. 

Well, at least I’m a threat.

Unfortunately, the sword was Broken and not usable.  I quickly searched through the rest of my inventory.  The battle with Charles had badly damaged all my gear, including my armor, bracers, and anything else that might be useful in this situation.

“At least I can understand why my armor is in my storage,” I said to Shart.  “I was wearing it when I was thrown through the Demon Door.  Since not all classes can use all equipment, it got teleported to my inventory.”

“That is correct.  Gold star for you,” stated Shart, and I could tell he was grinning.  “You aren’t a complete, total, absolute, dingus, after all.”

“Dingus?  That’s new,” I said.

“Trying to expand my vocabulary of stupid human terms,” replied Shart.  “Anything to occupy my poor, bored brain.”

I nodded, “What about the sword?  I wasn’t even holding it when I went through.”

“You attuned to it, remember?” stated Shart.  “You get to bring attuned weapons with you, even if you aren’t holding them at the time.  There are some serious limitations to that, though.  If another person controls the attuned weapon, then it doesn’t just magically go with you.  Also, if the <system> thinks you’re dead, it can dump your inventory back into random dungeon chests.”

I supposed that kept equipment from being lost forever.  When someone died with that ultra-special, rare staff, it wasn’t really gone.  You could hunt and pick through dungeons until you found it.  Given that Charles hadn’t just reached into his inventory, I guessed that the system had dumped his crap into random chests long ago.

After a few more moments of continued searching, I found the handful of daggers that I’d stored.  They, sadly, wouldn’t help here.  Now that I knew what to look for, I recognized the fact that Logan's Clerics did not use traditional daggers.  They used some weird, exotic clawed gauntlet, of course, which I didn’t have time to make.  It didn’t look that effective anyway.  Finally, I found a training sword that Glorious Robert had given me.

The training sword was blunt, a bit short, and weighted slightly differently than I liked.  However, the target only had 60 Hit Points.  I could probably still deal 60 points of Damage with a training sword, if I had to.  Glorious Robert certainly hadn’t had any trouble doing that.  I couldn’t imagine anything called a Ghoulster being that threatening.   

I crept up behind the creature, which was focused on some small object on the ground.  I needn't have bothered, as the beast didn’t seem to be interested in me at all.  Now that I was closer, I could tell that the creature was kind of hideous.  It had a head similar to a plague doctor's mask attached to an oddly misshapen humanoid's body.  My Lore was having trouble with it; I couldn’t even spot any weak points like I typically did, due to a lack of anatomical knowledge. 

“Shart, anything weird going on down here?” I asked.

“From what I can hear, I assume whatever Badgelor is doing could be classified as weird.  Other than that, no.  Super quiet,” replied my demon.

Well, then.  I drove my sword into the creature’s back, where I guessed the beast kept its organs.  Even on Ordinal, undead creatures required a semi-functional organ structure, unless they were animated purely by magic.  This one appeared to be one of the more mundane varieties that could be wounded via their organs.  Even if your initial blow didn’t kill them, they would eventually perish from their injuries. 

●   Sword Thrust: 0 Damage

Shit.  I checked the menu to verify that my Swordmaster perk was active, it was.  It all but ensured that I did two advanced Damage points per strike.  This sword should have done some Piercing Damage, or maybe Bludgeoning.  I hadn’t expected zero. 

The creature’s head snapped around.  Suddenly, I felt the edge of something assault my conscience.  It was using a fear-based attack on me, like some sort of aura.  Fortunately, my Mental Resistance skill was strong enough to overpower it, but the fact that I felt it at all was slightly troubling. 

Enough of this.  I cast Smite and went all out!

●   Smite Sword Hack and Slash: Damage 5 x 0

Double Shit.  Now, the creature was standing up.  I backed off.  Smite had a slight, holy light component.  In the glow from the attack, I realized that several things I’d registered as debris on the ground were, in fact, more Ghoulsters.  That disconcerting aura of fear pushed into me again, stronger this time. 

The Ghoulster lunged, it's beak attempting to pierce my gut.  I dodged away.  It was frighteningly fast, but not as fast as I was.  I was able to keep away from it, not that it mattered.  Its friends were starting to turn up to the fight. 

“Jim, there is a problem,” called out Shart, as I dodged the second and third creatures.  The aura of fear kept assailing my Mental Fortress perk, but I was able to overpower it.  It cost me 50 points of Mana, but I considered it well worth the cost.  Still, I was getting pressed. 

“No shit?  I know there’s a problem,” I screamed, leaping backward.

“No, not whatever you’re doing.  I mean, and I’m loath to mention this...” stated Shart.  I flipped over two more.  Now that more creatures had joined in, the aura was costing me 70 Mana to resist them.  “How attached are you to Badgelor?”

“WHAT?”  I looked over.  Badgelor had hunkered down.  He was terrified.  I tried to figure out what was happening. Our Path allowed most of my old Woodsman perks to work on him, including Improved Spiritual Bond.  That one allowed him limited access to my skills, and I knew Mental Resistance was a shared skill. 

The bond didn’t allow for the sharing of all my perks, though.  Mental Fortress was a Mental Resistance perk.  That was all that was keeping me afloat, and Badgelor did not have that.  As Mental Fortress effectively doubled my skill level against certain kinds of mental attacks, including this kind of fear, it meant that I was able to resist what Badgelor could not.

That suddenly mattered a great deal, as two additional Ghoulsters spotted Badgelor.  They moved toward him rapidly.  I activated my Flash Steps perk, expending my Stamina in a burst to get some space from the creatures coming for me.  I darted over to Badgelor quickly.  I had him scooped up, and we were on our way before the monsters had a chance to attack him. 

“Is there a way out of here?” I yelled, as another Ghoulster rocketed toward me.  The fear aura was slowing me down.  Without my Flash Steps, some of them were quick enough to catch me. 

“None that I can see,” replied Shart, as I narrowly avoided a strike.  I decided to risk it and smashed the creature with a headbutt.  It caused no Damage, but I did knock the creature backward.  I managed to skirt its fear aura. 

“Badgelor, snap out of it,” I yelled, rolling and diving away from two more of the creatures.  He sat immobile on my shoulder, his claws digging deeply into my skin, causing streams of red blood to spill out.  “Use Badger’s Rage!”

“He already is, you dolt!” replied Shart, as another creature grabbed me by the ankle and dragged me to the ground.  His mouth opened like the petals of a demented flower and exposed thousands of razor-sharp teeth. 

I grabbed a fist-sized rock and lobbed it into the creature’s mouth.  The opening snapped shut around the intrusion, and I managed to kick free. 

“How are these things so tough?” I cried, looking around.

“I don’t know,” replied Shart.  “There are <errors> everywhere down there.”

“They are resistant to Holy Damage,” I growled, running past another one.  I skirted around a large stalagmite near the fountain.  “Undead aren’t supposed to be resistant to Holy Damage!”

“They aren’t resistant,” said Shart, pausing for a moment as I dodged another one.  “Oh, something is flooding the area in UnHoly Magic!”

“Like Shadow magic?” I asked, nimbly avoiding yet another swipe.  More Ghoulsters continued after me.

“No, ye daft bugger,” yelled Badgelor, my innate stupidity breaking through his shocked state.  “He said UnHoly!”

“How is that different?” I yelped, leaping up onto a shattered wall.  I rushed down the top of the wall, away from yet more of the creatures.

“Shadow is the power used by Evil Clerics. UnHoly is just the opposite of Holy,” said Shart, not having the time to get into his usual condescending tirade.  “UnHoly magic cancels out Holy magic.  If you were a 20th level Cleric, you could cast some spells to overpower it, but you aren’t”

“Feck,” I muttered.

Badgelor slapped the side of my face and pointed.  “There, that’s walled off.”  He was indicating a section of the wall that the old Zelda player in me should have noticed.  Maybe if I wasn’t running for my life.  That part of the wall was a patchwork of rocks and tiles that clearly pointed to the outline of a door. 

I dashed toward it.  “That looks thick.”

“I’d imagine so,” replied Badgelor. 

“Any chance you could go Ultimate Badgelor and smash through it?” I asked.

“I’m using every bit of my concentration to overcome the fear effect,” replied the badger.

“Just checking,” I said, lowering my shoulder and increasing my pace.  With my Sprint at full speed, I could get up to nearly 60 miles per hour over a very short distance.  It would cost a great deal of Stamina, but it was worth it.  I lowered my head, remembered what Coach said, and brought my shoulder into line with the wall. 

He said, “Whatever you do, don’t run into a wall.”

THUD.

●   You have successfully broken through the wall.  Damage: 102 points.  You have reduced the wall’s Durability to 0.  You have suffered the following effects: broken shoulder, broken collar bone, bruised spine, orbital fracture, compound fracture of the left humerus, popped eyeball… 

Chapter 33 – Rock Bottom

●  … dislocated ribs, bruised appendix, and a lacerated spleen.  You also suffer 23 points of Falling Damage.

“You didn’t say there was a deeper hole after the plug,” I groaned, flipping over onto my back.  The action caused several odd grating noises from inside my body that I didn’t consider to be at all good. 

I cast Regenerate.

●   Spell Failure: You are in an antimagic field.

Of course.

I groaned again and sat up.  Badgelor was next to me. He stood shakily and started sniffing the air.  I inhaled as well.  As I was close to Badgelor, my Scent skill activated.  I caught whiffs of various unknown scents.  My Explorer’s Nose also kicked in, and I was able to identify something metallic in the air. 

“Where are we?” I groaned mentally to Shart.

“I’ve got a working map of the region.  You are in some ruins that are under a city of other ruins.  There is an anti-magic field set up over the entire area,” stated Shart.

“Then how can I hear you?” I asked, grabbing at my arm.  It was oozing blood from where a bone was slightly protruding from the skin. 

“What do you mean?” replied the demon, communicating to me from Limbo.  “Oh, this isn’t magic.  I’ve just bonded to your soul.  That allows me to communicate with you telepathically over any distance.”

“Oh, when you say it like that, it makes sense,” I stated.

“Hey, he’s starting to get it,” smiled Badgelor.

“Nope,” replied Shart, “Let me tell you about his latest rant.”

“Not now,” I hissed, grabbing my arm and setting the bone with a loud crack.  Thankfully, skills and magic were different.  Even with all the magic blocked, my First Aid skill was still functional.  Not that I could do much with it.  First Aid was a profession-based skill.  While there was a bit you could do without tools, it would be like a Blacksmith trying to make a sword without his hammer.

“Wait,” I chuckled, checking my Storage.  I had been holding a spare healing kit in my dimensional storage, just in case we needed it in the Dungeon.  I was holding the spare for Jarra. The kit contained all of the bits and bobs one would need to patch up small injuries.  Groaning, I realized it was in my dimensional storage, which required a spell to access. 

I rubbed my arm and looked around.  Everything hurt, and I lacked the enhanced Regeneration I used to enjoy.  Without magic, it would take a while to recover.  I activated my Ignore Injury perk and tried to make the best of it.  I didn’t have the Stamina to run the perk perpetually, but, hopefully, I could find a place where magic worked again.  The sooner the better.

“Can you find the source of the anti-magic?” I asked, checking around the room.  It was some sort of large temple, I guessed, based on the altar.  I walked over to the dais to see if I could recognize the god.  Of course, none of the symbols seemed intact. 

“I don’t think anyone claimed it,” said Shart after a while.  I placed my hand on the altar, but, without magic, I couldn’t perform any rituals to claim it, either.  “And I can’t find where the anti-magic field is emanating from.  Probably a relic.”

“Relic?” I asked, scanning around.  The room was picked bare.  If there was a relic nearby, it was well-hidden.

“They are magical items for buildings,” stated Badgelor, as he began sniffing the edges of the room.  I glanced up at the hole in the ceiling we had fallen through and spotted the faint outline of a Ghoulster.  It seemed less than eager to follow us down, judging by the way he was peering inside the hole.  That meant I was somewhat safe down here.

Or there is a much larger monster lurking about, and they don’t want to disturb it.

I recalled the metallic smell and started walking around the main chamber.  It took a couple of minutes, but I found a small doorway in the back.  I signaled to Badgelor, and he shuffled over.  Due to the lack of magic, he was unable to increase or decrease his size. 

“I thought that was a perk,” I said.

“It is a magical perk,” replied Badgelor.  “I have to do some Badger Magic to expand in size like that.”

We both walked through, looking carefully, but nothing was alive back there.  We did find the blacksmith’s shop in the back.  I pointed to the wall.

“What?” asked Badgelor.  “Do you think you can just point, and I’ll hop over like a good little pet and cut the wall open for you?”

“Please,” I groaned.

“That’s more like it,” stated Badgelor.  He sauntered over to the wall and began scratching it with his claws.  A few moments later, he had torn a hole in the wall exposing a small cubby that was controlled by a nearby book.  That mechanism had seized up centuries ago, but the compartment was intact.  Having a badger that could carve through stone with his claws worked out pretty well for bypassing the issue. 

I glanced in and whistled.  Several bars of High Steel were inside, as well as a golden metal I didn’t recognize, followed by several other metals I also didn’t recognize.  I didn’t recognize much of anything we found.  We had hit a gold mine of materials of unknown value.  The only other metal I sort of recognized was a green bar of the same material as my poor, destroyed Dagger of Wounding. 

However, each one was pretty heavy, and I only had one functional arm.  It was just like everything to work out this way.  I was beaten, broken, and trapped deep underground while Julia was off on her own.  I inhaled sharply, feeling my shoulders sag.

“So, what’s the plan?” asked Shart.

“What do you mean?” I replied, looking at the trove of treasure.

“Well, Julia’s gone, but I’ve been thinking.  Even if she doesn’t summon me, I’ll probably come up with another way to get back,” stated Shart.  “Maybe you don’t even need me there physically anymore. I’m getting better in Limbo.  Charles didn’t have a personal shoulder demon with him, and he saved the world many times.”

“But the princess...” I trailed off.

“O’Really isn’t the kind of guy who saves princesses,” stated Shart flatly.  “Jim might have tried to, but do you want to do that anymore?  Do you want to keep throwing yourself into the fire time and time again?”

I thought back to Jarra.  There was that little wellspring of strength everyone dipped into when they needed an extra boost.  I reached down and found mine dry.  I couldn’t do that again.  Julia was probably going to die, and I probably couldn't do anything to stop it.  “No.”

“Good, now let's just accept our current situation and figure out how to get out of here,” said Shart.  “Seriously, ever since we got back, you’ve been getting your teeth kicked in.  I’m glad you finally came to your senses.”

Ever since I’d Remorted, I’d been trying to come to grips with the fact that I couldn’t do everything.  Any time I thought differently, Ordinal stepped up and struck me down.  Ordinal spent all its time fucking with O’Really.

Nobody fucks with the mayor of Noobtown.

Was the problem me?  I slumped down against the wall and thought about it for a moment.  Killing Charles was important, but was it more important than everything else?  Should I be willing to sacrifice everything to do that?  O’Really had given up so many opportunities to be a hero in the pursuit of a quest.  Every time destiny had called, O’Really had turned up his nose.  Had it been worth it?  Had O’Really made the world a better place?

That was it.  O’Really was a selfish loser.  I chose to act like a selfish loser. 

O’Really was what I thought I should be doing instead of what I needed to be doing.  I had a pathological need to kill Charles.  I had stopped being an adventurer and turned into whatever Charles had become.  I needed to not be like Charles. I needed to be a hero.  

I had to save the world.  I had to save the princess.  I had to save Julia. 

I never was O’Really.  That was just me pretending to be someone I wasn’t.  I was Jim, the mayor of Noobtown. 

I flipped the bar of green metal into the air before catching it.  I didn’t have a weapon, but a solid bar of metal would do.  Badgelor looked over at me.  I nodded back at him.

“Let's go find this relic. I have a princess to save.”

Chapter 34 – New Outlook on Life

“That was not a reverse psychology speech!” screamed Shart.  “You need to give up this hero crap and train!”

“It has been hours, Shart, give it a rest.  I made up my mind,” I responded, as Badgelor spit something at my feet.

●   Heisenberg Compensator: Relic, generates an anti-magical field that fills the structure it is housed in.  Magic will not work unless you attune to the building that houses it.

Clever, you had to expend Mana to attune the building, so, as long as it was active, you couldn’t attune anything.

“I assume you tried to carry it out?” I asked.  Badgelor snarled.

“I know how relics work,” replied the badger.  “No chance it will go past the boundaries of the building.”

That was about what I expected.  I was somewhat surprised Badgelor could even move it.  Then again, if the relic couldn’t leave the building, it didn’t matter what the badger had dug through to bring it to me. 

“Shart, can we deactivate this?” I asked, looking at the relic.  It looked sort of like an electric shaver.  I mean, if you were being generous with your description.  It really looked like something else, but I was going with an electric razor.  Otherwise, I was walking around holding something my wife kept in the drawer of her nightstand.

I used it to point at Badgelor, “Could you eat it?”

“Nope,” stated Badgelor.  “First off, I’m not into that.  Secondly, I can’t just digest magical objects.  I would need to have the talent for digesting something like that.  Without the talent, it would just be worked out at the other end, when I’m in my smallest form.”

“Well, that’s uncomfortable,” I said and walked back over to the altar.  I placed my hands on it, wincing.  I reactivated the Ignore Injury perk. 

I tried to claim the building, but, of course, I wasn’t able to magically interface with it.  The attempt failed instantly.  I decided to troubleshoot.  I used Mana Control to review my Mana network.  Internally, my Mana was working fine.  When I tried to cast a spell, the magic didn’t hold its form correctly.  Casting a spell required you to force your Mana into a stable magical form. That meant the anti-magic effect was preventing the Mana from stabilizing.

I considered that while I activated my Mystical Lore skill and tried to figure out my options.  On Ordinal, Mana was like the dough of the magical system, while magic was how you baked it to end up with a spell.  In this analogy, the spell was a cookie or something.  I’m bad at analogies.  I could still extrude Mana, but whenever I tried to work the Mana into magic, the effect failed instantly.

“Maybe Mana is like the yarn, and magic is like the loom,” I stated, before Shart cut me off.

“No, please stop.  You suck at this,” groaned the demon.  “Mana is the raw force of power.  Magic is the act of working that power into something else.  Spells are the most common results, but you can use magic to do other things while working Mana.”

“I got it,” I said.

“I seriously doubt that,” responded Shart dryly, as I picked up a rock and started carving into it. 

“No, I do.  I can extrude Mana, but I can’t ‘magic’ the Mana after I do.  Eventually, the Mana just dissipates back into my body like I hadn’t even tried to work it at all,” I said. 

“That’s accurate, but I don’t see how that helps us,” replied Shart slowly. 

“Well, that’s when I remembered my Runecraft skill,” I said, as I continued to carve.  I had only seen this rune a few times, but, thankfully, my Runecraft skill was sufficient to recall it.

“How does that help?” asked Shart, now actually curious.

“Well, I can’t work the Mana into a spell, but spells are just 3D runes generated in a certain sequence,” I said.  Shart waited for me to continue, like a teacher listening to his least bright student ramble.  “But I could use the Rune as a mold to hold the Mana.”

“But you don’t have the materials necessary to finish the rune. They are all in your dimensional storage,” stated Shart.

“True, I don’t have the materials to make it permanent, or even hold it for very long.  However, I only need it to last for one second,” I said, finishing the naked rune and dumping Mana into it.  With Mana Control active, I could see Mana filling in all the carvings, forming the symbol for attunement.

“Well, Dum Dum, that is the stupidest idea you’ve had yet.  I can think of a few hundred reasons why it won’t work,” stated Shart.

“Bet you it does,” I replied.

“What’s your bet?” asked Shart. 

“Loser has to call the winner Master,” I stated.

“You are on. I’ll enjoy your groveling,” replied Shart. 

I slapped the rock onto the altar, my thumb still on the other side, physically holding in the Mana.  There was a long moment when nothing happened, just long enough for Shart to clear his voice to proclaim victory.  Suddenly, I got a system message:

●   You have found the Temple of Annulment.  It is unclaimed.  Would you like to claim? <Yes/No>

I instantly selected “Yes.”  The temple glowed amaranth for an instant before stopping.  I cast Regeneration on myself and felt blessed relief.  The spell immediately started working, and my injuries began to mend. 

“What the hell color was that?” questioned Badgelor.

“Amaranth, it's a red, pink hybrid,” I stated.  “My wife had it in our bathroom.”

“Shut up, that should not have worked at all,” stated Shart.

“That should not have worked at all, what?” I grinned, before getting another prompt.

●   You have learned the skill: Arcane Locksmith.  You can now use runes to affect arcane locks.  Rank: Unskilled

●   You possess the synergy skill, Rune Smith.  Your skills will fuse into Arcane Rune Locksmith.  You are now at Journeyman rank.

“That should not have worked at all, Master,” seethed the demon.

“I could get used to that,” I stated. 

“You shouldn’t.  I already fulfilled the terms of our deal,” stated Shart.

I started to yell, when I thought back to the terms of our deal.  Shart did call me Master one time.  “That’s a dirty trick.”

“But technically correct,” stated Shart, “And technically correct is the best kind of correct.” 

“Oh, that’s handy, a new Fused skill,” I said, changing the subject.  Shart groaned.

“Another one?” he whined.  “Found your Fused skill tab, I see.”

“Shut up, you know you love it,” I replied.  I had first noticed the tab when I’d learned Fancy Footwork, but now I understood it.  Fused skills were the most powerful skills.  The more of them I could learn, the better.  I cast Heightened Senses and looked around but didn’t find any other arcane locks to try Arcane Rune Locksmith on.  I cast Regeneration on Badgelor, who whistled. 

“Looks like you got the good stuff,” he said.  I smiled, until I felt a crack, as my bones knit back together.  Even with Iron Will, bone’s Regeneration could be decidedly uncomfortable. 

“So, what’s your plan now?” asked Shart.

I opened up my dimensional storage and brought out Grebthar’s Sword and my Scorpider armor.  “I’m going to get some real equipment and then talk to some Ghoulsters.”

Walking back to the forge, I stared at the anvil, the furnace, and the entire shop.  It was of decent quality, if not the setup HankAlvin had back in Windfall.  I had no other options, though.  It would have to do. 

“Fire’s lit,” stated Badgelor.  Laser Vision was just plain handy for starting fires.  Someone had stocked the smithy with some very old, but, fortunately, dry charcoal. I had to wait for it to heat up, so I examined my metal supply.

●   Serpent’s Brass X 1

●   High Steel X 4

●   Mithril X 1

●   Orichalcum X 1

●   Low Steel X 2

●   Deep Iron X 1

●   Astral Silver X 1

●   Promethium X 1

“I didn’t know what those metals were a few minutes ago,” I said calmly.

“I know.  I pulled up the local inventory list and found all of the metals on it,” stated Shart.  “Not many bars of metal in that temple, so I was able to label them all.  You are welcome.”

The demon really could be helpful sometimes.  Still, I didn’t know what half those metals would do if I put them in a sword.  Promethium was so far over my maximum Smithing rank that it flashed red when I considered using it.  I could use the Deep Iron to partially repair my armor, and I knew my blade was forged of High Steel. 

“Do you think reforging this would be better?” I asked, looking at the blade.  It was in more than rough shape.  The sword had partially melted and warped so badly that it now had a very noticeable curve.  Additionally, there was no edge to speak of left anywhere on the blade.  The runes that Charles had carved into the blade were still legible, though. 

“No, you still have the sword, Dum Dum,” stated Shart, “You should at least try to repair it first.”

There was no way this was repairable on Earth, but, of course, I wasn’t on Earth.  Had I been, I would have melted the weapon down and started from scratch.  On Ordinal, the sword’s only problem happened to be its Durability, which was at zero.  That could be fixed by anyone with a high enough Smithing rank.

●   Would you like to repair Grebthar’s Sword?  Durability 0/280, Cost 2 High Steel bars, Chance of Success 20% base + 15% Smithing (3) + 11% workshop quality + 20% Crafting - 80% Weapon Broken.  Minimum chance set by Luck: 0%.  <Yes/No>

Well, that wasn’t going to work.

I brought up my Crafting skills and looked at them.  Without at least a 1% chance of success, I couldn’t even activate my Smithing Skill.  I did have a few options, like substituting in different metals.  Even using higher quality metals didn’t appreciably improve my chances, though.  

“So, what is Luck?” I asked Shart, as I brought up my character sheet to look at all my stats.  Someone had put the Luck stat off to the side, instead of listing it in line with my other stats. 

“A measure of your Luck, Dum Dum,” said Shart.  “It's a rare statistic.  Even having a point of it gives you the ability to do things you might otherwise not be able to do.  You have very few opportunities to increase it.  I think your Explorer Path has one.”

That seemed reasonable.  I flipped back over to my Path and noticed I had an additional Talent Point.  I guessed exploring ancient temples buried deeply underground and unlocking their secrets had other benefits.

I found a talent that boosted Luck.  It had been a stand-alone talent, so I had initially ignored it.  Searching through the rest of the talents, I checked on all the other stand alones.  I found one called Access Inventory and read through it quickly, realizing something.   

“Wait, is this a talent that gives you access to your dimensional storage?” I asked. 

“Yes,” replied Shart, examining it.  “It's non-magical, so it would have worked in the anti-magic field, too.”  I hadn’t realized the significance when I’d first seen the talent, but now I had a spell that did the same thing.  Then again, there could have been an anti-skill field possibility in the <system>, so having multiple means of accessing my storage could be useful.  I resolved to choose it at a later date.

I spent the talent and increased my luck to 1.

Checking the chance of repairing the sword, I was up to a whopping 1%.  I further examined that, just to see what the full list of odds was. 

●   1% Minimal Success: You will repair 20% of the sword’s Durability

●   33% Minor Failure: You will restore 10% of the sword’s Durability

●   33% Failure: The sword will not be repaired, materials are lost, 49% weapon is destroyed. 

●   32% Critical Failure, the sword will be destroyed, materials are lost.

That was about what I expected.  I brought up my hammer.

“Uh, Dum Dum, are you sure about this?” asked Shart. “The odds are that you waste the metal and possibly permanently destroy the sword.” 

“Positive,” I said, bringing down the hammer. 

●   Failure: The sword will not be repaired; the materials are lost.

●   Crafting: You will automatically increase the success level of your Crafting checks by one.  Failure becomes Minor Failure!

“See, that was perfect!” I exclaimed, holding up the sword with its whopping 28 points of Durability.  More importantly, it had lost the Broken status.  I rechecked the repair odds and found that, while I only had a 1% chance for a Masterful Success to fully repair the item for half of the cost, the worst result I could score was a Minor Failure. 

“Time for round two,” I said. 

●   Success: You have repaired 50% of the sword’s Durability. 

That would do nicely, and I was out of High Steel.  I held up the sword and examined it. 

●   Grebthar’s Sword, Base damage 4-11, Extra Damage 1-6 Slashing, bonus 50% Fire, Bonus 50% Lightning.  Durability: 168/280.  Note: Sword has been used as a focal point to cast a Plasma Based spell and survived.  The weapon now grants +2 ranks of Plasma Control. 

●   You rank in Smithing has increased.  You are now a Journeyman Smith! You may select a Smithing Perk. 

Good, I had a sword again.  Also, the Plasma Control would be useful if I ever cast a Plasma spell again.  I kind of hoped I wouldn’t have to. The backscatter from a Plasma spell was fully capable of melting through anything, including my body. 

Maybe there was some sort of Plasma-resistant armor or something.

Speaking of armor, I glanced over at my poor mangled suit and winced.  The damage from my battle with the Dark Overlord covered the armor, and the numerous missing parts were not comforting.  A hole was burnt through the side, covering nearly where my spine would have been.  Given that I was wearing the armor when it happened, I had been very close to having all my guts spill out.  I swallowed, feeling my side. 

Stay there, friends; Daddy needs his organs just where they are.

Unfortunately, the repair took Scorpider Carapace, which I did not have.  I frowned at Badgelor, “You had to eat the whole monster?”

He glanced at the armor and then at me, “It was delicious.  Besides, you can just make a repair kit.”

“I don’t know any plans for those,” I started, but then checked my Smithing skill.  I was wrong.  I had a plan for making repair kits.  I just didn’t have the materials to make one.  I was up to Journeyman in Smithing, though, due to my latest repair.  I had a perk to choose from, so I started examining my options.

●   Material Substitution Savant: You can substitute materials of a greater variety when crafting items and gain better results when using them. 

That looked interesting.  You could already substitute certain materials when crafting items, depending on the plans.  Plans were the blueprints used to make weapons, but they had requirements.  Those requirements were often vague, though, like 4 ingots of metal.  The plan didn’t necessarily care what kind of metal you used.  You just had to be able to work with it. That said, the higher quality of the metal, the better your result would be.  Obviously, different kinds of metal would affect the type and strength of the weapon.   

“Yup, if you use that perk, the stats will be about the same.  Isn’t that all that matters?” supplied Shart sagely. 

I looked at the armor. I could now repair it with more than just some Scorpider Carapace.  The restriction had changed to Magical Beast Hide.  That would have been handy, except I didn’t have any Magical Beast Hide on hand.

Wait.  

“I’ll be right back,” I said, walking to the main hall.  I looked up.  The Ghoulster was still there, looking down on me with unflinching eyes.  I stood directly below it, pulled out my whip, and caught it around the neck before pulling it into the room.  The whip didn’t do any Damage, as I expected. The fall certainly did, though.

The Ghoulster got up snarling.  I cast Smite and decapitated it in one stroke.  The anti-magic field blocked unhelpful Magic while letting my Magic work normally now that I was attuned to the temple.  While blatantly unfair, I hated Ghoulsters, so feck ‘em.  Badgelor strolled out, as I set about the unfortunate task of skinning the creature. 

“Do you mind?” I asked.

“I suppose not,” replied the badger, parking himself below the hole.  “Man, I’m so full of eating your friend down here.  It would be a shame if someone came in to finish me off.  Ack, I think there is dirt in my eyes!  Whatever shall I do?”

“Do the Ghoulsters understand you?” I asked.

“In proper speech, it's all about your inflection and pronunciation,” presented Badgelor.

“So, you’re acting?” I asked.

“Yes,” replied the badger, theatrically.

“Genius,” I said.

“Thank you,” he saucily replied.

Eventually, a second creature stuck his upper body out, and Badgelor, now just as immune to the fear effect as I was to the UnHoly aura, used his Laser Vision on the creature's crotch.  A hardy chuckle was emitted by my badger, as the Ghoulster stumbled forward.  It fell fifteen feet to the ground, only to be beset upon by a pissed off by Badgelor. 

Six creatures later, I was back in the Smithy finishing up my new and improved Undead Scorpider Armor. 

●   Scorpider Armor, Modified.  Defense: 19, Threshold 9, 25% Poison Resistance, 25% Shadow Resistance, Shadow Meld 25% more effective.

“I’m pretty sure that is evil,” stated Badgelor.

“I put on a racing stripe.  That makes it look awesome, not evil,” I said, slamming the helmet onto my head.  Thankfully, at my current Skinning level, the material became leather directly.  I didn’t have to deal with a long tanning process.  I did have to deal with losing some Poison Resistance.  The armor used to be 50% resistant, but the materials I’d used to repair it didn’t grant that buff.  Now, I was better able to resist Shadow Damage and enter into a Shadow Meld more deeply. 

Unfortunately, Stealth in heavy armor was a bit of a chore, because it required a constant stream of Stamina to accomplish.  It really was a bit of a mixed bag, like finding out your sports car has a turbo mode that lets you get up to 250 miles per hour but only gets one mile per gallon while using it.   

“Well, the stats are ‘about’ the same,” chuckled Shart, “And that’s all that matters.”

I frowned, glancing back up at the hole.  “Any chance we can drag any more of them down here?” I asked.

Badgelor shook his head.  “I’ve been yelling that I broke all my legs in that last fight.  They aren’t budging.”

“We could try insulting them,” I ventured.  “Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries.”

Badgelor wheeled on me in shock.  “Jim!  Seriously, where did you learn one of the unmentionable insults?”

“Unmentionable insults?” I asked, looking back at the hole.

“One of the ancient insults that Charles used to use,” said Badgelor consideringly.  “Wait, it's an Earth thing, isn’t it?”

“Yup, and if you question me, I will say Ni.”

Badgelor nodded respectfully and shuffled ahead of me. 

As we spoke, another Ghoulster finally got curious and stuck his head out.  I quickly latched onto him with my whip.  One tug later, and Badgelor had him torn to shreds.  We had progressed from hide collecting to just thinning out their numbers.  It was not going as well as I’d hoped.  All the stupid ones had already been suckered down here, leaving the more intelligent, or at least lazier, ones up top.   

“They don’t seem to like us much,” stated Badgelor as he shredded the Ghoulster to bits. 

When the next one approached, I yanked him down as well.  He started to rise, then collapsed back into a pile.  I examined him with Lore.

●   Ghoulster, Level 6 Undead

●   HP 60/60

●   Stamina: 60/60

●   Mana: 30/30

●   Ghoulsters generate a fear aura that will overwhelm weaker minded individuals.  When operating in groups, this aura is amplified. 

Was he only level 6?  All the other ones I’d checked above had been level 25.  I decapitated it and waited for another to stick his head around.  When I spotted it, I checked with Lore first before using my whip.  It showed level 25.

“What gives?” I asked, yanking him down.  The creature immediately dropped to level 6. 

“In the room above, there are multiple overlapping magical fields that enhance the strength of the undead monsters.  Up there, fighting them would be a significant challenge,” stated Shart.  “Down here… not so much.”

I had forgotten that Ordinal assigned the level of a creature based on its threat to ‘an average’ adventurer.  It didn’t look at the creature’s experience points or other values.  It was what the <System> thought the threat level was.  Down here, they were not much of one.

“Well, I’m not earning any experience this way,” I said, walking directly under the hole.  “Badgelor, you coming?”

“Into that scary room filled with horrible monsters?” asked Badgelor.  “Probably not.”

Another one walked through the shattered doorway high above us, and I reviewed him with Lore.  Each time I saw a given type of creature, the amount of data increased slightly.  While most of this information was useless, this time, I noticed something amusing. 

●   Ghoulsters generate a fear aura that will overwhelm weaker minded individuals.  When operating in groups, this aura is amplified.  This aura can be overcome if the attacker can focus on a happy thought. 

“No, I think you can come with me.  It’s going to be fine,” I announced.

Chapter 35 – Chamber of Secrets

Badgelor was laughing like a loon.  I turned a corner, and he spotted yet more of the Ghoulsters.  He dug in his claws, as the purple glow of his Laser Vision began to recharge.  Badgelor was acting like a shoulder-mounted laser turret, and he was certainly relishing the job.  Some of the Ghoulsters were smart enough to run away, but one of the new batch must have had a death wish.  He barreled straight toward us. 

●   Laser Vision: Targeted Effect, Base 33, Total Damage 66.  Damage is from a happy emotion.  Targeted.  Effect: Target’s crotch is obliterated.

The Ghoulster stumbled before falling.  The creature writhed on the ground for a few moments, a massive smoking hole at its waist, before going still.  There had been somewhere between thirty and fifty of them when we’d first come back up.  After Badgelor held his impromptu wiener roast for the first dozen, most of the rest had begun the brilliant job of fleeing. 

That’s how I found the exit. Tucked into the corner of the room was a shaft going up.  You might ask, “Why not have Badgelor dig a tunnel to the surface?”  If we did that, we’d just be popping up into rooms like this, as we went up against each floor to the surface. It was an option, but it was not an ideal one. 

That also assumed we didn’t dig into a vat of acid or lava or something.  I’d played Minecraft, and the fluid physics on Ordinal were much less forgiving. 

Like everything else, the Ghoulsters had a weakness.  Their oppressive aura all but crushed your will to fight.  However, if you got into the correct emotional state, it did not affect you at all.  You had to be happy when attacking them, which their aura of fear made challenging.

However, they had vastly underestimated Badgelor’s love of blasting things in the crotch with his Laser Vision.  Few things in life brought him greater joy than what he was doing right now.  Each shot left him temporarily blind, though.  In this environment, that was not ideal. Instead of running around on his own, he had elected to ride on my back.  I kept us moving, though I was not at all confident that Badgelor wouldn’t get careless and catch my ear in his rampant firing.   

It turned out the anti-magic area only extended to the temple's edge, and we were now outside of that.  In the UnHoly field, the traditional rules of Undead death were not applicable. Just carving them up with my sword was not cutting it.  Without the tiny amount of background Holy energy to tell them to stay dead, they kept getting back up. 

What I’d figured out, like many D&D players of yore, is that I needed a blunt weapon to crush their bones into paste.  That action would cause them to stop moving.  My sword carved off chunks and fractured bones, but I really needed those Ghoulsters innards converted to paste for them to stop for good.  I could have tried headbutting them, but they were undead.  Their faces opened up into something resembling what I believe Satan’s vagina looks like. 

One of the Ghoulsters lunged at me.  I activated my only effective sword combo against these beasts and hoped for the best. 

●   Powerful Quick Hack and Slash:  You attack 8 times, Damage to target 6 x 8

The actual strike didn’t kill them.  Each slash did make a Ghoulster’s day measurably worse, though.  With my final slash, I used the Powerful Blow’s impact to send them slamming into the ceiling.  The fall from there to the decrepit market’s tile floor was enough to finish the job.  I hadn't killed a single one, but each one I’d attacked had so many broken bones that they had not gotten back up and if that didn’t work the falling hunks of the ceiling usually kept them pinned in place. 

I exhaled, checked my cooldown, and started moving again.  The attack took thirty seconds to recover, and I still wouldn’t have all my Stamina back before it did, if I continued using Powerful Blow and Quick Strikes with it.  Quick Strikes only added 9 Stamina to the cost, but I had to pay 6 points per Powerful Blow.  That meant the strike took a total of 60 Stamina to make, including the base 3 for the unenhanced attack.

I was still at 390 Stamina, so I had a few more attacks in me.  However, there were a significant number of targets.  Fortunately, one of the other Ghoulsters ran down a different hallway as another landed in a heap.  Shart perked up.

“To the left, keep going. That way,” he said.  Shart could see what I saw, and his version of pointing stuff out involved lots of yelling.  “There is a powerful magical font that way.”  We’d drained the temple of power, but it had been even less potent than the Temple of Logan.  I’d left the relic there, for the moment.  It would give me a place to retreat to if necessary. 

“I don’t think we can go that way.  It’s too confined.  Badgelor might get overwhelmed by their auras,” I said.  Happy Badgelor fried crotches; scared Badgelor ripped chunks out of my back. 

“Hardly, boy-o, I just earned a Talent Point.  I’m spending it now,” stated the badger.  “Partner Perks!  Now I have access to one of your perks, and I chose Mental Fortress.”

I flipped open my menu and found that I also had access to one of Badgelor’s perks.  Better still, I found that I could change perks, as long as I gave it at least twenty-four hours between choices.  Sadly, Ultimate Form was not a perk, but a talent.  Badgelor only had a few perks. Most of his abilities came from the Beast Lord talent tree. 

I activated his Badger’s Toughness perk, which granted me a small Defense boost.  It was probably not the best choice, but standing in the middle of a room surrounded by hostile monsters wasn’t the best place to be making clear choices.  Something was better than nothing, and I could always change it later.  

I turned and ran down the fleeing Ghoulster.  Another creature immediately launched itself toward me, but, despite the short range, Badgelor shot it in the crotch.

“That’s downright manageable, more thrilling than terrifying,” stated Badgelor.  “You are full of surprises.”

“Ha,” I replied, tearing another Ghoulster a new butthole.  We continued down the short hallway that ended in a room full of eggs.  “Well, this is like Aliens.”

“Aliens can’t live on Ordinal, Dum Dum,” stated Shart.

“It’s a movie,” I responded, rolling my eyes.

“I’ve never heard of it.  It can’t be very good,” replied Shart, as he scanned the room.

“The first couple were, but the rest sucked.  The cross-overs really jumped the shark,” I said.

Badgelor turned to look at me.  “Jumped...the shark?”

“Yep,” I confirmed.  “Total money grabs.”

“Shart?” Badgelor called.

“Huh?” responded the demon.

“Do...do sharks live on land on earth?” the badger asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Shart answered.

“And humans can’t walk on water?” Badgelor inquired. 

“Oh, wait!  I know this one!” Shart responded excitedly.  “One of Earth’s religions believes that there was a man that could walk on water.”

“But not all men?  It was just the one?”  Badgelor asked.

“Correct,” Shart confirmed.

“Did he jump sharks while he was walking on water?” the badger asked.

“I don’t know.  I don’t think it is mentioned in their religious book.  I don’t remember it, at least.”

“That seems like the kind of thing you would remember,” Badgelor nodded sagely.  “But then what is this ‘jumping the shark’ nonsense?”

“For Grebthar’s sake, it’s just a phrase,” I yelled, finally having enough.  There was literally no way I was going to explain the phrase's actual origin.  It was not the time or the place for a discussion about Happy Days. 

Poor Chuck.

“Well, it’s a dumb phrase,” Badgelor said.

“Hm, I agree.  I hate agreeing with Badgelor,” Shart added.

I continued my examination of the eggs.  Badgelor sniffed around, declaring, “Well, if we break open these eggs, it’s gonna be game over, man!”

Rolling my eyes, I pointed to a sizable, multi-step pyramid in the middle of the room.  A giant bird, the likes of which I had never seen, perched at the pyramid’s apex.  The creature was all black feathers and sharp beak, but strangely human hands kept materializing from it to gently stroke the eggs.  The hands would dissipate, only to materialize again moments later. 

“Font’s under the pyramid,” I said, using Heightened Senses to survey the room.  Several nearby eggs cracked open, and full-sized Ghoulsters stepped out. 

“Of course,” growled Badgelor.  “The thing you want is never someplace handy.”

●   Necrovictii, Boss

●   HP 1200/1200

“My Lore isn’t picking up much detail on that,” I indicated the bird, as I slunk off into the shadows.  “Do you have any ideas, Shart?”

“Give me a second,” replied the demon.  “It's a Unique-boss type creature.”

“Does the rarity of bosses matter?” I wondered.

“It can, depending on the boss,” said Badgelor knowledgeably.

“Uniques are usually pretty tough, regardless of level,” stated Shart.  “However, I’m having trouble parsing this.  I have the boss listed, but it doesn’t seem to match up to what I was expecting.”

“What about the big, scary, dead bird weren’t you expecting?” I asked, confused.

“Well, the bird is not quite dead,” replied Shart. 

“Not quite dead,” I said consideringly.  “Then, explain why her children are all undead.”

“So, the font that she is sitting on top of is pulsing with UnHoly energy,” said Shart.  “All living creatures need Holy energy, as well as Life energy, to survive.  Holy energy tells your body important information, like how to grow up healthy and when to pass on.”

“So Holy energy tells you when to die?” I asked.

“Holy energy tells living creatures how to behave.  Without it, bodies don’t know how to die properly,” replied Shart.  “Case in point, that bird creature should be dead.  Without Holy energy, it never got the command and continued sustaining itself on only Life energy.”

“But the eggs can’t develop properly without Holy energy,” I realized.

“Correct.  She lays the eggs normally, but, without the commands to grow up and develop, they turn into big containers of rot.  Eventually, their bodies go necrotic and turn into Ghoulsters,” stated Shart.  “This is a fascinating case.  I’m surprised I didn’t see it in an earlier log and end this little error.”

“Think it’s another glitch?” I asked. 

Shart considered for a moment.  “Probably.  There shouldn’t be a font able to suppress all the Holy energy in an area.  I bet whoever found the glitch placed it in that pyramid or built the pyramid over whatever is causing the problem.  I wish I were there.  That sort of error just shouldn’t exist!”

I glanced around at the field of eggs.  The room itself was the size of a soccer field, only slightly wider.  The pyramid in the middle was about twelve feet tall, and eggs covered nearly everything.  The one clear bit was a very narrow walking path, leading to the pyramid.

“Oh, yeah, this is going to be fun,” I stated. 

With Heightened Senses still active, I looked carefully around the room.  The Ghoulster eggs were wrong, somehow.  The recently laid ones seemed sickly, and the older ones were, according to Shart, full of Necrotic energy.

“So, let me see if I follow this,” I said, trying to make sense of the situation.  “The eggs are born alive, but, since they can’t get any Holy energy, they go cancerous, like with the Life energy glitch we found.  Then, they rot, which means they generate Necrotic energy.”

“Yes.  Simple organisms in the egg get out of control and start eating each other, generating Necrotic energy,” said Shart.  “If the font was drained, it would allow the Holy energy to rebalance itself.  The newer eggs would start getting instructions again, and the older eggs would die properly.  The undead Ghoulsters would still be up and moving, but they would lose most of their power.”

I considered that.  “So, if there is no Holy energy, dead things become undead?”

“Correct, again, my precious Dum Dum,” stated Shart.  “Look, everything in life has balance.  That includes Holy energy, the divine spark that sustains a soul, as well as Necrotic energy that causes your body to wear down.  If you cease to have Holy energy long enough, your body will rot from the inside out.  Without the divine spark to send your soul into its next incarnation, you become undead.”

I understood that.  Ordinal was weird, but it did follow some standard rules.  Balance seemed to be one of the more critical ones.  Remove one aspect of that, and you get giant, undead bird eggs.

“I take it that moving the anti-magic field into here wouldn’t accomplish anything,” I said.

“Nope, that blocks MAGIC. This deals with Mana,” said Shart simply.  “Before you ask, it will take months for your body to filter out all your Holy Mana.  No need to worry about that, either.”

“I have a plan.  I just need to know how long it will take to drain the font.”

***

Badgelor grumbled.  Of course, the plan was for him to do all the important bits.  The wee git of a companion just had to get the competent person to do the hard work. Then again, having a person as a companion did mean making compromises, Badgelor supposed.

At least he didn’t have to creep around to do what needed done.  Jim’s part seemed simple enough, as long as the stupid zit could do his business.  Over-promising and under- delivering was the bread and butter of those Jersey spawned abominations.  It was yet another reason from an increasingly long list of why Badgelor hated demons.  Especially Shart. 

“You hate that name, don’t you?” growled Badgelor. 

“Shut up,” hissed Shart.

“One of the most powerful beings in all of Ordinal, and yer just a shitty fart,” chuckled the badger.

“Well, at least my power is internal.  Without ‘Jim O’Really Dumb’, you are just a cute, little critter,” stated Shart.

“And without Jim, you are just stuck in Limbo,” laughed the badger.  Badgelor would have spent more time taunting him, but Jim had gotten himself in position quickly.  He was a damn sneaky one, that Jim. 

“Ready?” asked Jim, all polite, like a good companion should be. 

Badgelor didn’t need to respond, at least not verbally.  Activating Laser Vision, he started blasting eggs left and right.  Each egg he hit with his Laser Vision exploded in a fountain of putrid, black yolk.  It splattered everywhere, causing a brash hissing noise.  Destroying one egg often destroyed the surrounding eggs, which would pop and spray more acid everywhere.  They lacked the splatter range of his primary targets, though.  Damn shame.

Whipping his head around, he spotted the big bird.  Curiously, it didn’t seem to stir, even though he was attacking its brood with abandon.  How dare it not respond to the glory that was Badgelor?  Badgelor interpreted that insult as an excuse to attack more.  He decided against using his claws or eating the eggs, though, after catching a whiff of how badly one smelled.  He didn’t need that on his fur and, even with all of his digestion talents, eating something like that would be worse than eating EstherSasha’s cooking. 

Suddenly, he felt a pain down his left side.

●   Spectral Claws: You have suffered 18 points of Damage

The big beasty wasn’t moving, but those spectral hands seemed to have stopped their loving pets.  In the hands’ place, a host of floating bird specters were flying around the room. Most seemed to be headed straight toward him. 

Fear hit him like a hammer, but Jim’s borrowed Mental Fortress perk did the trick, fending off most of that fear.  Badgelor activated Badger’s Rage and expanded to his Ultimate form, able to ignore it completely. 

Now, the specters were pissed.  They started moving toward him in ever greater numbers, even as Badgelor began blasting around the room, exploding egg after egg.  Strange, the big birdy hadn’t started moving yet. Maybe they had to bust all these ghosts first. 

And, of course, who was going to get called for that?  Badgelor!

In truth, the plan was excellent.  It focused on what each partner did best.  Badgelor could be awesome and wreak vengeance upon all that had wronged him, and Jim could do whatever it was that Jim did.  Mayoring?

Badgelor’s Laser Vision pierced one specter, disrupting its form.  It immediately stopped being a ghost and started being a blob of ectoplasm.  Another one came in toward his furry face, allowing Badgelor to rake it with his mighty claws.  They didn’t do much, causing only minor imperfections in the ghost’s unearthly body.  However, his paw did move it just enough for Badgelor to swallow it whole.  The specter squirmed in his gullet for a moment, before suddenly realizing that it couldn’t phase through Badgelor’s stomach.  Then, it stopped. 

●   Badgelor has gained: Spectral Powers.  Your body becomes less solid.  Your jumping and movement speed increases.

While Badgelor had taken the Devour All talent for eating that bastard Charles, it had other uses.  Aside from allowing him to digest any creature he ate, it also kept them in place while he did so.  A large bit out of Charles from their last encounter had been the only thing letting him keep pace with the bastard, though now that same bit was just giving him indigestion. 

Unfortunately, Shart, the failure, had told him how long he needed to delay the specters, and that was in the order of several minutes.  Even with his new mobility, it was only a matter of time until the stupid specters surrounded him.  Several were floating right above him, ready to swoop in. 

“They got me,” Badgelor muttered.

An instant later, his guts were being hauled through spacetime.  Badgelor reappeared five feet off the ground, hovering over some of the younger eggs.  He crashed down, splattering yolk everywhere.  Then, he continued dashing off, blasting away with his crazed laugh.

***

“How much longer do you think he can keep this up,” I asked, watching Badgelor race around the room a second time.  I could summon him at will, causing him to appear near me.  That had been important to the plan, because I could pull him out of a threat zone and to somewhere safe.  Unfortunately, there was a bit of a cooldown on the power, and the massive bird was stirring. 

“I’m drawing power now, but I have to pull all of it.  If I don’t, it will rebound, and you’ll get nothing, probably,” stated Shart.  Sneaking to the middle of the room had been painfully simple. There were massive amounts of cover everywhere, and most detection spells that looked for humans detected their Holy energy rather than their biological life. 

Shart had explained it to me.  Basically, a detection spell based on life showed every plant, fungus, mold, and bird egg in the room.  Even the necrotic eggs, which were in the process of rotting, had some form of life inside them.  A detection spell based on Holy energy detected just that, Holy energy.  Those spells worked by showing the spark that connected your soul to the great beyond.  Furthermore, using a spell like that made it much easier to filter out the limited number of souls you wanted to see.  If my Holy energy was suppressed, my living body would look much like any of the countless eggs in the room to a detection spell that was based on biological life. 

I was hiding between two nearly man-sized, freshly laid eggs.  I held one hand on the altar, while Badgelor attempted to go full monster truck rally on anything he could find.  The specters were being smarter about their attack this time, though.  This is going to be close. 

“Just hold them off for a few more seconds,” I said to Badgelor.

“You better cut me loose,” called Badgelor. 

“Almost there,” stated Shart, as Badgelor smashed through several of the rotten eggs.  His fur was promptly covered in more hissing acid, as a dozen specters chased after him. 

‘I can’t hold them,” yelled Badgelor, as several of them scored blows on him.  Their spectral claws were partially blunted by his magical hide, but they were still capable of leaving painful wounds. 

Badgelor rolled himself into a ball, as even more specters joined the chase.  Snarling, he jumped backward into the mass of ghosts, tearing at anything he could find with his claws.  The specters were momentarily distracted.  I checked and saw that the cooldown to summon Badgelor was still in place.

I was on the knife’s edge of running out to help Badgelor, when Shart yelled, “It's away!”  Suddenly, the UnHoly field collapsed, and I felt power flooding into me.  It felt like leveling up, without the leveling up aspect of it.  It gave me a hollow feeling.  I spared a moment to check the prompt.

●   You have absorbed an unknown <error?> of the Chamber of Secrets.  Max level increased to 62.2!

For Badgelor, the results were more practical.  His claws were magical weapons, having just enough of each type of Mana to reliably work on an opponent.  With the UnHoly field active, he was only able to minorly affect the specters, which they both knew and expected.  With the field down, the first swipe of his claws ripped the face right off a ghost.

The group of confident specters paused, as one of their own brought its clawed hands to its face hole.  An instant later, Badgelor ate another one and slammed a third through the ground.  It phased away at the last moment.  With his weapons no longer stunted by the UnHoly effect, the specters tried to escape.  By then, I’d gotten too close.

Using a Smiting Cleave followed by a Smiting Hack and Slash, I was able to dispatch nine of the specters in short order.  Now, Badgelor and I were both in the thick of it.  Without the UnHoly field, my Smite was incredibly effective against the significantly weaker ghosts.  Meanwhile, Badgelor found he could grab a spirit in his claws and smash it against his chest.  He executed this trick multiple times; he was faster about the smashing process than the specters were able to phase away.

The remaining ghosts did not last long.  That left us in a room that reeked of death and decay, and we still had the big bad bird to deal with.

“Now all we have to do is kill...” I began, as the big bird in the middle of the room slumped forward.  The last few ghosts propping her up had fled.  She shook herself clean of an eternity of dust, leaving her feathers shining in the dim light.  One of her great eyes cracked open.  She blinked several times, as she looked around.  Finally, she spotted us.

“You have saved me,” she said, again looking around.  “Oh, and some of my children, too. That’s, that’s just...awesome.”  Of course, it came out as lots of coos and caws, but Badgelor was able to translate it for me. 

“Our expectations,” I finished, looking down at Badgelor, who shrugged.  “We have to kill our expectations.”

Chapter 36 – The Bird is the Word

“And that is my tale,” said Beakatrix.  Fortunately, her language, Macaw, was pretty easy to understand, assuming you had Woodsman’s Lore and a War Badger to help you.  The fact that she was a ‘natural creature’ speaking a language made my job easier, I guessed.  She also understood Ordinal’s common human language, which, despite the changes it had gone through, still contained some words she recognized.  She did note that my accent was terrible.  In the end, she talked in her language, and I talked in mine.  She also understood War Badger, which had its pros and cons. 

Beakatrix had experienced the worst luck that I’d ever heard of a bird having.  Eons ago, her civilization had been on the verge of collapsing, so she’d escaped to the pyramid to rest and recuperate.  We were standing in some sort of lab, where her people had been researching the UnHoly glitch.  The ghosts had broken free, killed everyone, and placed Beakatrix on the altar.  The rest was ancient history.

Shart wasn’t even sure how long she’d been trapped here.  His rough estimation was in millennia.   

“Well, I’m glad we were able to help you,” I said, looking around at the devastation.  Badgelor had not destroyed every single egg, but a significant number of them were splattered around the room.  Some of the crushed eggs might have been able to survive, if not for Badgelor’s tender mercies.

“Do not worry yourself, Honored One,” Beakatrix said, cocking her head and looking toward Badgelor.  She bowed her head in a sign of profound respect.   

“Seriously?” I asked.

“I am a War Badger. We are quite important,” said Badgelor self-importantly.

“Do not fret. My lineage will always remember you,” she said, cocking her head at me.  It was difficult to ignore the fact that her cock for me was far less respectful. 

“What are your plans now?” I asked.  “I can’t imagine you living down here in this deep, dark cave.”

“Alas, no,” she replied, “But I fear I have no idea where to go.  The Dark Overlord overcame the Hero of Light and destroyed us.”

“Grebthar?” I asked.  He might be an absolute bastard, but I knew the legend.

“No!  Who is this Grebthar you speak of?  I am speaking of the Talon Lord, Umamabo,” Beakatrix said slowly.  “It was her sacred task to defeat the Dark Overlord, so she ascended the great dragon to do battle with him.  She was defeated, tortured, and killed.”

“That’s unfortunate,” I said. “So, the Dark Overlord won before you fled?”

“Correct.  After the defeat of the Talon Lord, the Dark Overlord began his breaking of the world,” she continued solemnly.

“One moment, please.  Let me take this all in,” I said, sitting down.  Then, I asked Shart, as politely as I could, “Yo, asswipe, explain.” 

“So, the Dark Overlord keeps coming back.  You know this.  Usually, he gets defeated for several thousand years, and we can ignore him in those peaceful times.  Unfortunately, he’s back a little early this time.”

“Because we released him?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

“Yes,” replied Shart.

“And he sometimes wins?” I questioned.

“Occasionally, sometimes,” stated Shart.  “Okay, initially, he normally always wins.  It’s one of the things that built upon the legacy of the Dark Overlord.  We thought Grebthar defeated the Dark Overlord.  We thought Grebthar won outright!  We just turned out to be incorrect, is all.” 

“You suck,” I said to them and looked back up to Beakatrix.  “That’s a lot to take in, but I also have news for you.  The Dark Overlord has returned.”

She seemed to take that in easily enough, causing me to raise an eyebrow.  It was a gesture she clearly understood, as she began to explain.  “Oh, you are wondering why I am not more concerned, yes?  The Dark Overlord just returned, correct?  The Talon Lord and the Dark Overlord fought for decades.  I’ll have time to slide somewhere safe.”

She was from Florida.  Big hurricane incoming?  Well, she’s lived through it all before.  End of the world?  Nah, no big deal.

“Where will you go?” I asked.

“Someplace I can vibe, a place where the food is rockin’,” she answered.

“And how do you plan on getting there?” I asked.  I guessed flying would be the easiest answer.

“I have one of these, assuming that the world is not still some sort of medieval hellscape,” she said, pulling out a redstone key.  She looked straight at Badgelor as she spoke.  He shook his head.

“The Dark Overlord corrupted the Fast Travel network.  Now, there is an eldritch abomination that hunts the mortals traveling there,” stated Badgelor.  Beakatrix seemed to deflate. 

“Truly, I did not expect the horrid state to continue for so long,” she grumbled. 

“It was working when I was much younger,” stated Badgelor, “but now the whole network is compromised.  I thought it was bad then, but only a fool would travel it today, even with a dire, tremendous need.  Were you to use that key now, I doubt you’d last an hour.  The Walker would easily catch up to you.”

“The Walker?” she gulped.

“The Walker of Siers can smell your soul.  It will come hunting for you,” stated Badgelor.  Beakatrix didn’t know the name, but she recognized the seriousness in Badgelor’s words. 

“I thought the Walker of Siers was a Necromancer,” I whispered to Shart.

“There are fates far worse than death,” stated the demon.  “The Walker betrayed the Dark Overlord.  No one is quite sure what happened, but, when the Walker of Siers returned, he was so saturated in Shadow magic that the Dark Overlord imprisoned him in the Fast Lanes.” 

“What are the Fast Lanes?” I asked.  I had a few minutes to spare with Shart, as Badgelor and Beakatrix continued talking about how excellent the Fast Travel system had been.  I was a bit jealous.   

“Duh, do you not have a Fast Travel Network on Earth, Dum Dum?” replied the demon.

“No,” I said flatly. 

“Wow, Earth straight up SUCKS,” replied Shart.  “Oh, wait, I think the polite expression is ‘You guys don’t know what you’re missing.’  It’s another dimension that you can access with a portal key at certain locations.  The portals allow you to quickly travel all over the world.”

“Sounds handy,” I said.

“It was, when it didn’t have an unkillable monster living in it,” stated Shart.  “We don’t even monitor it anymore.  Anyone stupid enough to enter it dies horribly.”

Turning back to Beakatrix, I said, “I know a place you could go, but I don’t know how you’d get there with your eggs.  I fear you’d have to leave some of them.”

“There are a lot of eggs,” she said, looking around.  “I was kind of hoping you were going to tell me that they weren’t all mine.”

“They appear to be.  Is this not normal?” I asked.

“We usually lay one egg at a time, about a year apart.  If the eggs are unfertilized, we just bury them.  These all look fertilized, though, judging by the color of the shells,” Beakatrix said, groaning.  “I never really fancied being a mother.”

There were fifty-two intact eggs that were deemed non-necrotic.  We were basing that number on Badgelor’s smell test.  If an egg smelled worse than EstherSasha’s cooked eggs, he assumed it was necrotic.  Beakatrix did not look overjoyed at the news of her massive brood.

“I assume you would want us to save them,” I said.

“Oh, yes, of course,” replied Beakatrix hastily, in an odd tone of voice.  “It would be a real shame if they were all left here to rot, I guess.”

“Any ideas regarding what we can do with them?” I asked Shart. 

“Just dump them into your dimensional storage.  We can figure it out later,” stated Shart.

“I thought dimensional storage would kill organic things pretty quickly,” I said, remembering a very detailed rant about just that.

“Normally, yes,” replied the demon, “But I’m in Limbo now.  While there is no Life Mana here, time is also kind of dodgy.  They won’t die for at least a few weeks, probably a few months.  That should give you time to come up with a better option.”

I glanced over the field of eggs.  Sighing, I began dumping all of them into my dimensional storage. 

“That’s terrific!  You have dimensional storage,” Beakatrix smiled, relaxing as I dumped in the last egg.  “That’s just perfect.  Out of curiosity, is that still fatal to living organisms?”

“No, it will be fine for at least a week.  We will get your eggs out by then,” I said confidently.  Beakatrix’s smile faded. 

“What a relief.  You guys have much improved dimensional storage.  In my day, it would have killed them all painlessly.  Don’t be worried, though.  If something were to happen to them, understand that I would forgive you.  Those are unusual eggs.  If they were to all just die unexpectedly, no one would blame you.”  Beakatrix gave me a look that I couldn’t read on her alien body. 

“Not usually. I’m just special like that,” I said, checking my inventory.  All fifty-two eggs seemed intact.  “Anyone else’s dimensional storage would kill them, but not mine.”

“How fortuitous.”  Beakatrix blinked at me several times, before her wing hand went up to her forehead, covering her eyes.  It was an odd gesture.  I started to walk out of the room, and she hopped off the platform.  Her unused legs caused her to stagger for a few moments before she regained her footing.       

At her full height, she was close to nine feet tall, but there was a lot of leg in that height.  Also, there were a lot of feathers, and those masked her proper proportions.  She looked like she had an owl’s body with a raven’s head slapped on.  Her beak, thankfully, worked like a typical beak, not at all like the triangle horror of the Ghoulsters. 

“I fear that all my equipment is missing, including my dimensional storage belt,” she said, as she grew more confident on her legs. 

“Where did you find a dimensional storage belt?” I asked.

“I built it,” she replied haughtily.  “I am an Engineer.”

“An Engineer?  What skill level?” I asked.  I had the Engineering skill as well, but I was only up to Journeyman rank with it. 

She turned toward me, the feathers on her neck fluffing out.  “Skill level?  You jest, surely.  I’m a level 31 Engineer.”

“Wait, you are an Engineer with levels?  I thought Engineer was a Profession,” I said.

“No, Engineers are the newest members of the Anointed,” she smiled.  “We are now part of the Class Registrar, and they are training new Engineers at the Academy,” she said, cocking her head left and right.  Then, she faltered, “Or at least we were, before the breaking.”

“Engineer isn’t a class anymore,” I said, and she sighed.  It sounded like a loud, lonely coo.

“That is unfortunate. It's not like it would be the first class that perished over the centuries, though,” she said, looking at me keenly.  “You are a Cleric of Logan?”  She said “Logan” with a clip, like she was tasting the word for the first time.  I didn’t entirely recoil at that.  An Engineer would probably have good Perception and Lore skills.  She’d gotten my class off my character sheet.  While my skills and amulet stopped casual scans from revealing my entire character sheet, your class was the first thing shown after your name. 

“I assume you haven’t heard of Logan,” I said, and she ruffled her feathers.

“The world seems to have greatly changed since I was last in it,” she responded, before looking down at Badgelor, “But not everything.  At least there is still some good in the world.” 

I looked at Badgelor and blinked several times.  He just grinned back at me.

“Let's go,” I said, walking through the tunnel.  Beakatrix followed, shimmying her way down the too tight shaft.  Her body seemed to fit well enough, but her wings continuously got caught on things.  She scraped them badly before coming out the other side.

I cast Heal Damage on her, and we headed toward the exit. 

“Your god Logan seems quite handy,” she said, as we continued on our way.

“You got that right, Bub,” I replied, realizing that I’d said “Bub” unconsciously.  I hoped that Bub wasn’t going to be a thing.

Beakatrix spent some time searching around in the next chamber.  Without the UnHoly aura, the few remaining Ghoulsters were easy pickings.  Badgelor followed her, while I examined the exit the critters had been taking out of the chamber. 

“It looks like a stairwell that goes up at least a dozen stories,” said Shart.  “Of course, something is blocking the stairs.”

While I still didn’t fully understand the mentality of building cities on top of older ruins full of monsters, it at least kept things interesting.  I tried using Hammerspace on several of the rocks, but the stones were part of the wall.  The spell wouldn’t work on them. 

Then, I watched Beakatrix for a few moments. She was a gigantic bird.  That was still kind of jarring.  She didn’t seem to mind me, though, which said some good things about her ability to handle strange, new situations. 

Her wings were massive, at least twenty-five feet across, but they ended in large feathers making her reach appear much longer than it was.  Her hands were part of her wing but looked strange to me because she had more wing past where the hand was attached.  She folded that part of her wing back while she was working.  It didn’t look like she could hold something with her hands while she was flying either as her hands flattened against her wings when she unfolded them which she did frequently.   

She also never really stood at her full height.  I had initially assumed she was around nine feet tall.  Now that I was paying closer attention, I realized she was stooping.  When she needed to reach something, her legs and neck extended, putting her well over twelve feet tall.  Stranger still, if she needed to move something heavy, she would talon down with one foot to secure herself.  Then, she would use her other leg to manipulate the heavy object. 

Every so often, she’d pick something up with a foot, transfer it to a hand, and then fiddle with it.  As I watched her, I began to recognize what she was working to cobble together.  It looked very much like a crossbow.

“Are you making a weapon?” I asked, walking over to her.  She looked down at me. She was going for innocence, I suspected.

“Is there a problem with that? We seem to be someplace dangerous,” she replied. 

“Not at all.  Actually, I was impressed that you could do it with the current supplies,” I said, looking around.  Beakatrix was making the bow’s frame out of discarded bones, scraps of leather, and other sundry bits.

“I am an Expert at the Rare skill, Improvised Tools,” she said, cocking her head.  “It allows me to assemble objects out of unusual materials.”

“A Rare skill?” I asked, looking up at her.  She returned to her task.

“Yes, you have to have levels in the Engineering class to learn the skill.  I suspect it no longer exists,” she said. 

“It does sound unusual. What are your plans when we get topside?” I asked.

“I do not know,” she replied.  “I was hoping the vibe in the city above would be good.  If not, I do not know.”

“Could you teach your class to others?” I asked.

“Yes, if I had a place to do so,” she said, studying me with only one eye.

“Well, then, I’ve got a place for you,” I grinned. 

She paused and then shrugged.  “I accept.”

●   Beakatrix has accepted citizenship to Windfall.

I paused.  I guessed that had been on the nose.  I was the mayor, so I could offer citizenship to the town.  I went to the build menu and searched around, finding a new option.

●   Macaw Rookery: This building is the standard housing structure for a macaw.  A rookery is considered basic housing. 

I selected it, found an empty lot in the southeastern part of town, and ordered it built.  I assumed Mar would be wondering what I was doing, but that was for future Jim to explain.  I’d also have to figure out what to do with the eggs, but that was another job for future Jim, the poor bastard.  I may dislike Mar, but I must despise future Jim.  Maybe I can just dump the eggs in the rookery. 

While I fiddled with my menus, Beakatrix finished her crossbow.  She held it up rather enthusiastically for my inspection.  It was of decent quality, especially considering she had made it out of spare parts in under fifteen minutes.

I reached into my dimensional storage, pulled out my old goblin crossbow, and handed it to her.  She ruffled her feathers. 

“You had this the whole time,” she said flatly.

“I wanted to see you use your Rare skill,” I replied.  Beakatrix started fiddling with the goblin weapon, holding it like it was a dead rat.  Of course, rat was one of the components.  I’d checked it before.  Finally, she disassembled part of the base and attached some pieces from her improvised crossbow. 

“Ready,” she said.  “What’s the plan?”

“Well, I found a stairway up. We are going to use it, fighting our way through a host of monsters until we get to the top.  We just have to continue fighting, until we reach the surface,” I said, before explaining how many levels there were.

If a bird could become ashen-faced, Beakatrix managed it.  Once I’d finished, she said, “I’m amazed you managed to get down here, going through all that.”

“I didn’t, not really.  I fell in a hole,” I said.

“Could we go up that way?” she asked.

“No, it caved in.  The sides were unstable,” I stated, before pausing.  I had made a pocket and then dug through the bottom. I didn’t know how much material had covered me.  I thought at Shart, “There was a fair bit of debris on top of me when I fell, right?” 

“Yes,” stated the demon, “At least ten feet of debris.”

“Badgelor, how far up did you dig when we were finding our way out of that pit?” I asked.

“We are about fifteen feet over the top of that stupid lean-to you were huddling under,” said the badger.  I looked at the nearby wall.

“So, if we dug through here, we’d find a mostly hollow tunnel going straight to the surface?” I asked Shart.

“I believe so, but you’d have to fly to go up that way,” Shart replied. 

“Badgelor, dig through the wall,” I ordered, before remembering my manners.  “Please.”

Chapter 37 – A Lesson in Physics

There was no way I could have possibly climbed up the shaft.  The walls cut through dozens of layers of previous cities that had all, at one time or another, existed on the spot.  Some were fancy, some were poor, and none of them looked stable. 

This section of shaft revealed thousands of years of history, all in one go.  From an archaeological perspective, it was fascinating.  From my perspective, virtually every floor had monsters on it.  None of them liked the sun very much. 

Not that Union was slow.  It took some time for Beakatrix to get her wings straightened out. After all, she hadn’t flown in ages.  By the time she’d managed to fly Badgelor and me toward the surface, Union’s citizens were already patching the hole. 

Before I’d died on Earth, we had a creek wash out a section of a major road.  Despite the urgency of making repairs, it took them weeks to fix a fifty-foot section of road.  For over a month, everyday commuters had to find an alternative route to jobs and shopping.  If this temple-sized hole was still there tomorrow, I’d be surprised.  I supposed the difference was the possibility of monsters climbing out from the damage. 

As we came to the surface, Beakatrix built up speed, exploding from the hole.  A few dozen arrows flew toward us, but her burst of speed allowed her to avoid the projectiles.  The sensation of flight was incredible. I could get used to this.

I looked up, enchanted by my new companion and her flying ability.  The only thing I saw was a macaw on the verge of total collapse.  Her Stamina was just about gone.  She spotted a nearby rooftop and desperately flapped toward it.   I released her legs, just before her wings gave out.  I fell nearly ten feet, landing in a roll.  She immediately crashed into a rooftop garden but didn’t stop.  Instead, Beakatrix tumbled toward the side of the building. 

Using Flash Steps, I managed to close with her.  I grabbed her in the nick of time, before she disappeared over the side.  Lifting her back onto the roof, I was surprised by how light she was.  She weighed less than I did, despite the wings and being much taller than me. 

“Too heavy,” she croaked and wheezed.  “Hate flying.”  She was in a full Stamina Crash.  I sat down next to her and waited for her to recover.  I saw the last remaining Stamina potion in my inventory and considered it for a moment.  I quickly rejected the notion.  Beakatrix would recover soon enough, and I only had the one. 

“Flying is awesome. Why don’t you love it?” I asked.

“You can run.  Do you like running?  You like walking.  Do you like hiking?” she spat, still gasping.  “If I want to fly somewhere, I’ll do it on a sky ship, like a civilized person.” 

If I were being honest, I MIGHT have chosen to drive a time or two, even if I could have walked.  I’d had a perfectly good car on earth, pre-semi.  I glanced at my character sheet and realized that I’d leveled up my Cleric class again.  I looked over my Warrior class and saw that it was getting close, as well. 

The problem with being so spread out, level-wise, was that Ordinal assigned experience based on each class's level.  The crypt below was considered crazy hard for my Clerical class, but it was a walk in the park for my Warrior class.  I’d earned a ton of Clerical XP, enough to level me.  My Warrior class had only gained a small amount, and my Explorer class had gained virtually none. 

●   Level up, Cleric 9

●   Your Hit Point total is increased by 10.  Your Mana is increase by 10. 

●   Your Hit Points have increased, your maximum Hit Points are now 480

●   You Mana has increased, your Maximum Mana is now 140. 

●   You have learned the spell, Holy Blast

●   You have gained a perk

I glanced through my perk options.  I had spent many perks improving my healing.  I needed to branch out into a second category that would still help me.  Then, I remembered I had all that Charisma but no real perks that exclusively used it. 

It didn’t take long to find something useful.

●   Charismatic Caster: Your Mana pool increases by 10 times your Charisma rank (4)- 1.  Your Willpower will be considered rank (4) - 1 points higher when casting Holy spells.

That seemed like overkill, but it made sense, I supposed.  Not everyone had as many stat bumps as I did.  Most Clerics of my level would have, at most, 4 bumps to apply between Charisma and Willpower.  If a Cleric had focused on Charisma, this perk would be enormously helpful.  Furthermore, a Cleric might reexamine this perk at higher levels, if they had enough Charisma to make it worthwhile. 

The issue was that I had many more stat bumps than could reasonably be expected for an average, level 9 Cleric.  That meant that I could take the perk and gain benefits from it, like an adventurer with much higher stats.  I selected it and felt my Mana pool surge. 

●   Jim, Cleric 9

●   Explorer 15

●   Duelist 14

●   HP 480/480

●   Mana 170/170

My stats were much higher now than the handful of Hit Points I had started with.  I wouldn’t even get to full power until I got Cleric up to level 15.  That led me to another problem, my Max Level.  While it had increased to 62, I needed to use strategy to avoid leveling the wrong ones too quickly.  If I rapidly leveled up Explorer and Duelist, I might not be able to get to the correct levels I needed in Cleric and Mage Knight. 

“Shart, any idea on how to stop me from leveling up in a class?” I asked.

“You're still on about that?” sighed Shart.  I had to stop advancing in at least one of my classes, or I would have to get very exact in how I earned experience points.  My biggest concern was getting my various classes maxed out, before I picked up Mage Knight again.  If I didn’t have 14 free levels, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to activate it at all.  If I didn’t have 15 free levels when I reacquired Mage Knight, I wasn’t going to be able to move into its Path.  That would be just as bad.  I really needed to get the Mage Knight Path activated.  Then, I wouldn’t run into this whole ‘unable to use the class until I met the requirements’ thing.

“Yes,” I growled.  “Have you found anything?”

“Enter your mindscape.  I’ll show you,” stated Shart.  I didn’t like doing that in the open, but, now that Badgelor was here, I had someone to watch my back.  Looking at my character sheet was distracting. Looking into my mindscape cut me off from all outside input.  If someone dangerous, like that assassin, was about, it could end very badly for me. 

“I got ya, just hurry up,” stated Badgelor.  I glanced over at Beakatrix and decided she wasn’t going anywhere soon.  I proceeded into my mindscape.

Instantly, I was on the platform where I could best see my character sheet.  I pulled back, looking around my mind.  The storms at the edge of my vision were still there, but I thought they were a bit less dark than they had once been. 

The ordinarily flat platform now had the <admin console> Shart had built.  It was currently flashing a blinding, red light.  I walked over to it, only to be surprised.  Staring up at me from the console was a pixelated representation of Shart.  He did not look pleased.  Does he ever?

“This is new,” I commented, and the demon gave me a thumbs up.  At least, I thought he did, but he could have flipped me off.  I really couldn’t tell.  The quality of the pixilation was on the same level as an Atari, and Shart was really just a blob to begin with. 

“I’ve upgraded the console, through tremendous effort and brilliance, just to give you some control over your leveling,” stated Shart.  I glanced down at the controls, relieved to be able to read them.  Each of my current classes was listed, even those that I didn’t presently have activated.  A large, poorly made knob was beneath each of them.  I reached over to touch the one for Sorcerer, one of my deactivated classes, and received a shock.

“Don’t touch that, Dum Dum,” stated Shart.  “Let me explain first.”

“You shocked me,” I grumbled.

“With my greatness, I know,” replied the demonic jerk.  “You notice that there are dials.”

“Yes, the knobs look kludged onto the <console>,” I replied, looking at what Shart was calling ‘dials.’  They had three settings: Off, Active, and Suspended.

“Hey, I worked hard to make something your primitive brain could process,” grumbled Shart. 

I exhaled loudly.  “These dials are super neat, Shart!  Whatever do they do?”

“That’s better,” replied the digital Shart.  “By default, every class is off, except the class you chose during your Remort.  If you turn the dial to ‘Active’, assuming the class is capable of being activated, you’ll gain all the abilities of whatever class you choose.  If you keep turning to ‘Suspended’, you stop gaining experience.  However, the class otherwise works normally.  By that, I mean it will still eat up your total levels.”

I glanced down at Explorer, which was edging toward level 16.  Time to test Shart’s knob.  Currently, the dial read ‘Active’, so I flipped it to ‘Suspended’.  I didn’t feel any different. I tried to spin it back, but the dial was stuck. 

“You can’t reactivate a class once you suspend it,” stated Shart.  “What I did borderline broke the <system>.  As long as you follow the dial, everything should work fine.”

“What do you mean I can’t reactive it?” I questioned.  “It can’t just be gone forever.”

“Dum Dum, what part of ‘I broke the <system>.’ did you not catch?” stated Shart.  “You can get them back when you Remort, hint, hint.”

“Thanks,” I said, as another question came to me.  “What happens to the experience points?”. 

“They go somewhere,” replied Shart.  I gave the <console> a blank stare.  Experience points didn’t just go somewhere.  If I wasn’t getting them, someone was. 

“To you,” I stated.

“Why wouldn’t they?” retorted the demon snarkily.

“Because that doesn’t help us defeat Charles,” I said.  “You are in Limbo. Will those experience points do anything to help us defeat the Dark Overlord?”

Shart paused for a long moment.  “Shit.  Well, I can’t give them back to you.  I had to send them to someone else.”

“Why can’t you give me my experience?” I asked.  That would make leveling up my other classes super easy, barely an inconvenience.

“If I keep the experience with you, it creates a loop.  If I made any mistakes in my jury-rigged hack job, the <system> would notice you.  You do not want the <system> to notice you, like, ever,” stated Shart.  “I had to divert the experience elsewhere.”

“What about Badgelor?” I asked.

“What about the stupid badger?” replied Shart.

“Could you assign the experience to him?  Maybe earn him some Talent Points or something?” I asked.

“The only thing I really want to give that furry fucker is a one-way trip back to Jersey,” Shart stated, blinking up at me innocently.  I stared back unblinkingly. 

“He already got out of there once,” I said.  “Badgelor doesn’t strike me as the forgiving type.”

Finally, Shart sighed.  “Point, let me reconfigure it.”

I pushed out of my mindscape and returned to real space.  Suddenly, I was sitting next to Badgelor, who was glaring at the road below.  A squad of town guards were running into the front door of the building we were on top of. 

“Are you ready for this?” he yelled, expanding to Ultimate Badgelor.

“What do you mean?” I asked, examining the doorway.  I was trying to figure out how to block them from getting to Beakatrix without things becoming violent. 

“I mean, do you have any other title choices?” asked Badgelor, glancing at me.

I checked.  I was showing ‘Jim, mayor of Windfall’ which was my default title.  “What’s the problem?”

“You are in Falcon,” stated Badgelor.  “They are a bit attached to Windfall’s mayor.”

I considered that for a moment.  He was right.  Julia mentioned the mayor casually all the time.  Given that I was trying to rescue Julia, I didn’t have time to deal with that kind of attention.  I guessed that ‘the mayor of Windfall’ would be akin to a Jesus sighting in the deep south.  There was no way to sneak around like that. 

I brought up my Title Tab and saw that I didn’t have many options.  O’Really was there, but I didn’t want to go back to that name.  That just left my titles.  I had two, the mayor and Jim, the Curious Puppy. 

“How the feck did I get ‘Jim the Curious Puppy’ as a title?” I asked.

“Did you declare that to someone powerful,” asked Shart, “Like Charles?”

I had.  Apparently the <system> had decided my declaration in front of Grebthar, the Dark Overlord, and Charles was sufficient to merit assigning me a new title.  I selected Jim, the Curious Puppy, knowing deep down that if I was seen as the mayor it would bite me in the ass later. 

“I didn’t think you liked being compared to a stupid dog?” asked Badgelor, after he examined my title.

“I’m hoping this will be a hat on a hat situation.  Since I’m calling so much attention to the name, it will spoil the joke,” I said. 

“Humans are strange,” grumbled Badgelor.

The building started to shake, as dozens of members of the town guard began running up the stairs.  After a minute, I heard one yell, as they kicked open the rooftop door and rushed to cover us. 

Sitting quietly in front of the door, leaning on my sword with Ultimate Badgelor beside me, I asked, “Can I help you?”

The chief guard came up first, as her men adopted a line formation behind her.  I stood in my jet-black armor, with its incredible racing stripe.  Next to me stood the Clydesdale-sized Badgelor.  Finally, the giant bird person sat up behind us.  The aura of ‘I don’t get paid enough for this shit’ radiated off that poor guard.  “We are here to determine the nature of the strange monster that left the hole.”

“Her name is Beakatrix.  She’s with me,” I said, waiting for the joke about one curious puppy.  It didn’t come, even though I could tell she was looking at my name tag.  I let hope well up in me, while the half-dozen guards behind her watched me for a long moment.

Finally, the chief guard spoke.  “If she is not a threat, we will leave her with you, adventurer.  Ensure she knows the local laws.”

“Will do,” I said, straightening up and sheathing my sword.  There was a commotion by the door, as several of the guards began speaking rapidly to each other. 

With my Perception skill, I heard one of them say, “That’s what they are supposed to do,” as he broke free and walked several paces closer to me.  Badgelor bristled, but the young man did not back down. 

“Yes?” I felt compelled to say. 

“Sir, you are an adventurer.  You have to help us,” he said, looking at me earnestly.

“With what?” I asked.

“Our princess, Princess Julia Angela Claudia Carrington Ewing Gioberti Napa Ewing, has been spotted leaving the town,” he said.  “We’d like to offer you a quest to find her.”  Several guards glared at him or at me.  A couple clearly looked down when he made his statement. 

I gathered that there was something more to this ‘Rescue the Princess’ quest than that, and that the various guards had mixed feelings about the entire process.  There were shades of grey around this quest that I didn’t fully understand.  Yesterday, I would have had severe reservations about accepting.  However, being Jim again was much more straightforward.  I replied, “Of course, that’s what adventurers do.”

Chapter 38 – Return of the Curious Puppy

I launched myself at the next rooftop, hit it at a perfect angle, and continued running.  There was just something about running from rooftop to rooftop that made the whole world a better place.  Beakatrix was following me, occasionally flapping.  She whined, flew, and panted loudly.

“I can understand that you don’t like flying, but why are you so bad at it?” I yelled, as we ran. 

“Too… much…work,” she gasped, struggling to stay aloft.  When she had been carrying me out of the hole, I’d assumed our flight had been majestic.  Seeing things from the other side forced me to come to terms with how undignified we must have looked.   

“But you have wings,” I yelled, leaping off the third story of a building and landing on the second story of the next.  My Mitigate activated.  I rolled to my feet, down some Stamina but suffering no Damage. 

“If the <system> wanted me to fly, it wouldn’t have given me feet,” she hissed, looking longingly at the ground. 

I rolled my eyes, as I spotted what I was looking for, a conveniently placed hay cart.  Lining up my jump, I rocketed through the air, just as the horse attached to the wagon saw Beakatrix.  He was so spooked by the giant bird that he jerked forward.  I landed next to the cart with a loud grunt, rolling several times.  I could feel Badgelor’s claws digging into my shoulder even more than they had been before.  I unsteadily came to my feet and calmed the horse. 

My landing was, at least, more graceful than Beakatrix’s.  She got way too close to the ground.   Then, with a mighty flap of her wings, she crash-landed into the cart. 

I cast Heal Damage on her, as I picked her up. 

“You didn’t even try to land that,” I said.

“Landing… is… harder… than… flying,” she gasped.  After several seconds of gulping breaths, her Stamina replenished.  She crawled out of the hay and stamped both feet into the ground, digging in with her talons.  “I hate being that high up without something solid under my feet.”

“I understand that,” I replied sympathetically, looking around.  We were close to the market, so I gestured that way.  Badgelor leapt from my shoulder and ran over to the hay wagon, where he promptly lost his lunch.

“Ye suck,” he groaned.

“Whiner,” I said, walking toward the market.  He shook his head and started to follow me, with Beakatrix bringing up the rear.  The crowd of people instantly parted, as we strolled forward.  We were quite a sight, me in my radical jet-black armor, Badgelor being Badgelor, and Beakatrix looking like a goth Big Bird.  People were pointing.

The Party interface should have made Julia easy to find.  I was actually surprised when she still showed up as being in town.  My immediate assumption was that there was some sort of elaborate deception going on.  While we were running all over the city, I thought I’d found where she was located, only to discover the Julia listed in my Party was actually a dress merchant.  Part of the Disguise skill was the capacity to push your Party link to another person.   Instead of just finding her on the Party menu, I was forced to use more mundane methods. 

Badgelor sniffed around.  “It's too chaotic.  There are a lot of people here.  I think I have her scent, but I’m not sure.”

“What do you need?” I asked, looking around.  I had been playing nondescript O’Really for so long that I was used to being ignored.  Now that people were paying attention to me again, I realized that some part of me enjoyed it. 

Beakatrix walked up to me.  “Is it traditional for humans to have horse dung on the back of their armor for tracking missions?”

I scraped off the dung, as Badgelor came up empty.  He needed a good scent of Julia, and he just couldn’t pick one up in the crowded market.  The next place to look was the caravan itself.  Badgelor giggled when Beakatrix told him of my encounter with the horse.  As we walked toward the caravan, the badger said, “Any piece of her clothing will do.”

Fortunately, her initial dress was already in tatters, and I knew where she had hidden it.  If it wasn’t there, I’d improvise. 

I saw Cole as we walked closer.  I slowed my approach, fully aware that the sight of Beakatrix might put him on edge.  He already had the guards out in force.  They were currently glaring at the town guards.  There was a back and forth going on between the two groups, and it seemed like the tension ramped up with every exchange.  One of the caravan guards turned to me as I approached, my name emblazoned over my head.  My new name and armor made me unrecognizable to him, and he moved to block the way. 

“Halt, there,” yelled out Cole, striding over.

“Hi, Cole,” I replied.

“O’Really?” he asked, staring at me.  Instead of an accountant in patched clothing, he saw an adventurer. 

“It’s Jim, actually,” I said, waiting for the usual response.  I didn’t get it.

“I figured.  Not O’Really sounded like a fake name,” he replied, looking around and lowering his voice.  He inhaled sharply, before whispering, “Some adventurers took your friend.  She’s the princess.”

“I know,” I said.  “I need to go rescue her.”

“You can’t, Jim.  One of those men smashed an adventurer into the Temple of Rogers.  He plum destroyed the whole temple,” said Cole, implying that the adventurer was in the same condition as the building. 

“I know.  I have to get him back for that,” I said, involuntarily rolling my shoulders.  It was then that I noticed the two groups of guards.  They had become very quiet.

“Jim, there were five of them with the princess.  You might be pretty tough, but you are just one man,” said Cole.  Let me take some men.  We might be able to help you.  We will fight to save our princess.”

I smiled.  “I’ve seen them fight, and I’ve seen you fight.  It's okay.  I think I’ll be able to manage.  After all, I’m not going by myself.”

Beakatrix walked over at this point, staring down at me.  “You better not be referring to me.  I am not going, you crazy idiot. I’m going to that town you told me about and never leaving my rookery ever again.  It's dangerous out here.”

Cole had taken off his hat.  Everyone was staring, wide-eyed, at Beakatrix.  She had been speaking in Macaw, so nobody understood a single word she’d said. 

“Thank you, Beakatrix.  I understand,” I replied, in my poorly accented Macaw.  She patted me on the head and walked over to the wagons, examining their wheels. 

“A Progenitor gave you their blessing,” whispered Cole reverently. 

“That is Beakatrix.  She will be traveling with the caravan,” I replied, looking over the wagons.  Seeing Badgelor entering the main one, I yelled out in badger, “Hurry the feck up.  I want to get moving ASAP.”

Badgelor snarled something from the wagon, so I turned to RonJared and Hubert. They both looked a bit shell shocked, but there was no helping it.  I cast Hammerspace and began materializing the eggs next to me.  “These are Beakatrix’s eggs.  I need them transported west of here, past the Eastern Gate Fortress.”

“Into Grebthar's Lands, with a Progenitor?” asked RonJared.  Dozens of massive eggs appeared next to the wagon. 

“But you are just an Administrator,” said Hubert.

“Actually, I’m the mayor and these eggs need to get to Windfall,” I said finally.  “Can you do this for me?”

RonJared hushed Hubert, before looking at me and Beakatrix.  “Yes, of course, we will.  We will take the Progenitor eggs and the Progenitor to Windfall.”

Badgelor stuck his head out of the wagon and leapt down, holding a piece of Julia’s dress in his mouth.  “Hold yer horses, ya daft bugger.  This should be enough.”  He threw several scraps of Julia’s old clothing at me.  I tied one around my bracer, so he’d have an easy target to smell. 

By now, Hubert and RonJared had both turned bone white.  Badgelor growled at me for several more moments, complaining about how disorganized the caravan was.  They didn’t understand War Badger, of course.  The entire crowd stared openly at the little badger.  When he noticed their looks, he harrumphed far too loudly and expanded into his full, Ultimate Badgelor size.

If seeing a War Badger was enough to turn heads, seeing one expand to full Ultimate size was enough to silence a city.  I glanced around.  Most of the guards were kneeling, and the Clerics of Iron were making symbols in the air.  People were holding up small children, just to get a glimpse of Badgelor. 

“You have to give the people what they want,” he said, turning toward me.  I raised an eyebrow, and Badgelor sighed.  “Get on.”

“I thought you didn’t want me riding you,” I stated.

“And, yet, you never asked why,” replied Badgelor, sighing again.  “Never challenge a man on a War Badger.”

“Charles?” I asked.

“We’d always ride into the thickest part of combat.  Whenever the fate of the world was down to a roll of the dice, Grebthar and Badgelor would appear to save humanity,” stated Badgelor fondly.  “I’m kinda gonna miss him, after he’s good and dead.”

I nodded, jumping onto Badgelor’s back and drawing my sword.  “We are off to save the princess!”

Chapter 39 – Bird in a Bind

Beakatrix watched, as the Honored One and the strange, poop-covered man raced off.  She filed away the word ‘princess’, vowing to figure out what it meant later.  There were entirely too many words and phrases from the human tongue that she just did not understand.  The grammar and syntax were somewhat different than what she remembered, and certain letters were not meant to be spoken by someone with a beak. 

She hoped that ‘princess’ was some sort of cleaning apparatus.  While she, of course, respected the Honored One, his companion was stinky. 

Beakatrix turned to survey the rest of the humans and sighed.  They were all wearing strange outfits, and the local area looked downright primitive.  At least they were still giving the proper respect to War Badgers. 

Beakatrix groaned, as the men quickly gathered up the massive pile of eggs and started carefully loading them onto the wagon.  Large crates were torn open and dumped to make room for the eggs, and the porters gingerly and lovingly packed them.  She shuddered at that. Beakatrix had never desired to be a hen.  Now, it looked like she was about to have a massive flock. 

It would be a real shame if the suspension gave out, and they all got cracked.  She glanced over at the human wagon leader.  He was diligently double checking everything, like the flock leader had told him his tail feathers were at stake.  

The other person that the poopy man had been talking to walked over.  His name was Cole, which was, at least, pronounceable.  Jim started and ended with letters her vocal apparatus had trouble pronouncing in her language, so it was easier to remember him by his nickname. 

Cole said something about where Jim, again, such a terrible name, wanted them to take her.  She considered that for a moment.  She would not stoop to pantomime.  Even if she did, Beakatrix wasn’t entirely sure that the humans would be able to follow it.  She could speak a few words in the human tongue, though.

She shouldn’t call Jim ‘the poopy man.’  The War Badger had laughed when she’d said it, so she knew it was not an optimal choice.  She just had to pick an honorific that wasn’t insulting.  Beakatrix needed to choose her words carefully.  Choose, that was it.  Jim had Chosen her. Human’s called their Anointed “Chosen” or some such.  Hopefully, if she said it emphatically enough, the primitive humans would understand her.  She spoke slowly and loudly. 

“The Chosen One requires us to travel west,” she said, in what she hoped was passable human language.   She must have used the right words, because Cole nodded and asked her a follow-up question.  It sounded like a “yes or no” situation.  Beakatrix answered in the affirmative, with a nod and a broken “yes.”  She couldn’t understand what Cole said next.  His accent was terrible.  Assuming he could follow the basic concept of going west, Beakatrix could hope that everything would work out. 

Soon, everyone else began getting ready to move even faster.  The men wearing iron suits were running back toward the town, yelling something.  They prepared to move in a few minutes.  She cocked her head.  To think, she had been worried that she would miscommunicate somehow.

Chapter 40 – Riding the Badger

“Right there,” grunted Badgelor, as I adjusted myself.  So far, it had been a long and strenuous ride, but I was getting the hang of it. 

“Quit wiggling like that,” I hissed.

“Just grab me by the hair on the back of my neck.  Work harder,” replied the badger, as we continued our journey of discovery.

“Guys,” stated Shart.

“Easy for you to say.  There is hair everywhere,” I replied, spitting.  “It's even in my mouth.”

“It’s going to get in your mouth, if you aren’t careful,” growled Badgelor.

“Yuck, this tastes like sweat and bologna,” I groaned, as we continued pounding along.

“Just tilt your head back and think of Windfall,” replied Badgelor.

“You need to get the rhythm down better,” I hissed, spitting again.

“Seriously, guys,” stated Shart.

“I’m almost spent.  I have to do all the work, while you just starfish,” said Badgelor.

“What were you expecting?  I’ve never done this with a badger before,” I said.

“You’ve never done this with anything before,” chuckled Shart.

“You are not helping,” I shot back. 

“Get ready for it,” said Badgelor.  I felt my muscles tightening unconsciously.  Then, I was flying.  For an instant, I felt weightless.  It was marvelous.  Then, we slammed back onto the trail.  Badgelor kept on running, as I struggled to hold on.  It was not going well.

My Riding skill had been at the lowest rank when we’d started this tribulation.  Now, I was up to Initiate, but my bruised butt had suffered greatly for it.  Earning Riding experience was not a time-consuming endeavor, if one was willing to sacrifice their backside to level up.  Badgelor assisted my leveling, because he was considered a higher-level mount.  That granted a pretty significant experience benefit, as we continued this ordeal.  Finally, it dinged.

●   You have increased Riding to rank Journeyman.  Select a perk!

‘Oh, thank God,’ I groaned inwardly, searching the Riding perks for the one Badgelor required.  I found Share Energy quickly enough and selected it without any dithering. 

Instantly, the ride became much smoother.  One thing about Ordinal’s system was that there wasn’t much of a difference between any point in a skill rank; however, once you gained the final point to move up to the next rank, the difference was night and day.  So far, my ride on Badgelor had been just short of terrible.  Now that I’d hit Journeyman, I could suddenly feel the chaffing on my ass lessening.

The new perk was great, because it meant that Badgelor could share my Stamina pool.  More importantly, for this long-term journey, Badgelor could share my Stamina Regeneration.  With my stats where they were, the badger’s Stamina Regeneration had just doubled.  Badgelor could shift up to high gear for the entire time we were traveling. 

As an aside, I noticed that our Mana pools were also shared.  That meant that Badgelor could now use Laser Vision from our combined Mana pool.  That would hopefully make his attack even more impressive.  If nothing else, he could fire it more often. 

So far, we had been traveling north.  I had a “Rescue the Princess” quest that pointed in the general direction of the ruined temple.  Unfortunately, the temple was several days north of our current location, even with Badgelor’s increased pace.  We were off the great road, seeing the countryside instead of the Royal Lands. 

“Explain that to me again,” I ordered Shart.  “I might be able to pay attention now that my thighs aren’t being shredded.”

Shart groaned.  “The king of Falcon only technically controls the territory directly adjacent to the highway.  Cities like Union are also under his domain, but, out here, you are in the lands of the nobility.  Right now, the civil war means that the duke and the duchess have allies that control everything.”

“Well, we will have to hurry to find Julia,” I said, looking down the road we were traveling on.  The great highway was massive, impressive, and perfectly flat.  This road was of lesser caliber.  There were ruts and grooves in the middle, where wagons had cut through the paving stones long ago.  There was also only enough room for one wagon to travel across at a time. 

People were traveling the road, but, as we approached, they quickly got out of our way.  Traveling on a massive War Badger had its benefits.  Because of the crowds, we began trotting at a brisk pace.  As we passed, people bowed.  It was just a few at first; then nearly everyone else joined in.  I initially thought it was because I was an adventurer, but Badgelor promptly corrected me.

“They are bowing for me,” he stated calmly, stretching his back.  Now that I had Journeyman Ride, the trip was more comfortable for him, as well.  I had been bouncing up and down on his kidneys for the first few hours of our trip.

As we continued north of Union, the crowds thinned.  Eventually, we had the road to ourselves.  Badgelor increased his pace, my Stamina Regeneration allowing him to move into overdrive.  I was on top of a tank that, in short clips, could blaze down the road at a good seven leagues an hour.  Our movement was absurdly loud.  Any birds or little critters up ahead of us kept darting from the trees.

“Well, at least they’ll know we’re coming,” I said.

“Damn right, no one jumps for joy when they see a War Badger charging toward them,” chuckled Badgelor.  “Hell, you should see what I cause most people to do.”  I could guess.

“Any luck on the temple?” I asked Shart.  I knew there was a temple, and I knew the approximate direction.  However, that didn’t translate to knowing exactly where it was.  Ordinal quests would direct you to a certain vicinity.  Your destination could be anywhere in the massive radius where the directional indicator from the quest ran out. 

“I’m still looking.  You know, I am in limbo.  I’m looking at pure <metadata> rather than a decent map.  If you had been there before, it would be easier,” stated Shart. 

“Sorry to inconvenience you.  From now on, I’ll try to keep the needs of future Shart in mind,” I responded.  “How long will it take them to summon you?”  We had decided that was the only reason the other adventurers hadn’t killed Julia yet.  People who could summon Elder Demons were rare.  Finding someone else that could do it would have been too time-consuming.

“Only a few hours,” stated Shart.  I winced, but he continued, “However, she can only summon me during a specific time frame.”

“Oh, that makes things easier.  I can only assume that your cosmic greatness is only summonable once in a blue moon,” I snarked, recalling something Julia had said. 

“Yes, the Dragon’s Moon, that is correct,” stated Shart.  “I’m honestly surprised you knew that old nickname for it.”

“When, pray tell, does that moon arise?” I asked. 

“A week after the Phoenix Moon wanes,” stated Shart.  “So, about three more days.”

“Of course,” I grumbled.  That made some sense, if you thought about it.  Phillip and Su-Kar had been strategic about their arrival at the lodge.  They had given themselves time to collect Julia while still ensuring they made it to the ruined temple before the Dragon’s Moon.  The duo had also factored in enough time to head through Union and pick up Hardragon and his friends.  That certainly explained why they were there, as well. 

“I take it they can make her perform the ritual with the collar,” I commented to Shart.

“Probably,” he confirmed.  “They can certainly make her start the process.  Remember, bad things will happen if you screw up a demon summoning ritual.”

“Would it be bad enough that she would just decide to sacrifice herself instead?” I asked, considering Julia.  She seemed like the type of person to go down in flames, if that is what it took to save her lands. 

“Whichever demon she summoned would take her soul as an eternal plaything,” replied Shart.  That sounded bad.  Shart continued, “What did you expect?  Did you believe she was going to win an all-inclusive vacation and a year’s supply of candy?”

There was some noise ahead of us, so Badgelor slowed to a trot.  Moving at maximum speed was excellent for distance, but he was not well-versed in slowing down.  I insisted he get a head start on it.  I’d discovered that, when people saw the badger barreling toward them at top speed, they tended to critically fail their crapping themselves checks. I miss my Break Wind spell.  Shart and Badgelor had begun betting on how many people the badger could make shit themselves in panic.

“I need a lance,” I said to Badgelor, just to change the subject.

“Duh,” he replied, “but maybe not as much as you’d think.  In my experience, Earthlings don’t know how to fight on a War Badger.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, curious.  I looked over Badgelor’s broad back, trying to think of how to fight on it.  I could get to one side and swing down, but that would leave his other side exposed.  Then again, few things hurt Badgelor.  His unguarded flank might not be a concern.

Firing a bow off Badgelor’s back would also be tricky.  As he moved, his head tended to bob up and down.  I’d have to time any forward-facing shot pretty carefully, lest I hit him in the back of the head.  I could use Magic Shot, given his near-total resistance to my magic, but that was just another limit on my options.  Plus, badgers were not very steady when they moved.  They were prone to rippling while plodding along.

“There is another problem,” stated Shart.

“Of course, there is,” I replied, as we continued walking.

“Well, I found the dungeon tag for the ruined temple,” stated Shart cautiously.

“You can find the tag but not the physical location,” I said flatly.

“They aren’t on the same list,” replied the demon.  “In any case, I can see the dungeon.  The first several floors are empty.”

“That’s good, right?  That means I won’t have to fight through those floors,” I said hopefully.

“Nooooooo,” groaned Badgelor.  “It means they have a Dungeon Master with them, right, Zit?”

“Yup,” stated Shart, ignoring the nickname, “Which means you have a fun new problem. The creatures of the dungeon are rampaging around the local area.”

I facepalmed.

“That should make it easier to find, at least,” offered Badgelor lamely.

“If the monsters are spread out, they are probably attacking anyone nearby.  I’m guessing that the dungeon is near several hamlets,” I said.

“In this area, I’d guess villages.  It’s a pretty populated area with a high birth rate.  You’re looking at small villages, not hamlets, full of children.  Weak, defenseless children,” stated Shart. 

“So, monsters are running around attacking everyone and everything nearby.  I’ve just got to break through them all to find the temple,” I said, sighing.  “Well, I guess that can’t get any worse.”

“Funny you should say that,” started Shart, and I mentally glowered at him.  He continued anyway, “The temple is on a Necrotic Source.  If the monsters destroy the local villages, the dungeon will level up from a ruined temple into a Necropolis.”

“If all the monsters are outside, how can the dungeon level up?” I asked.  Adventurers dying in the dungeon was the primary way that dungeons leveled up.  At least, that’s what I thought, in my imperfect understanding.

“Well, it's a temple on a Necrotic Source.  The monsters just have to bring their victims’ remains there, and the temple will do the rest.  Any corpse left there for twelve hours will turn into a fresh undead.  If they can create enough undead, the dungeon will level up,” explained Shart.

“And the Dungeon Master is making them do that?” I asked.

“Yes,” replied Shart.

“I take it this is a high-risk proposition for the dungeon,” I said.

“Yup,” growled Badgelor, “Monsters that die in the dungeon are recycled.  If they die outside the dungeon, though, their energy is lost.  It will take a great deal of time for the dungeon to recover.  At a minimum, losing that many monsters will seriously weaken the dungeon.”

“Which proves that there is a Dungeon Master there.  The dungeon itself wouldn’t send monsters out like that,” stated Shart.

I thought about that.  “How many undead are we talking about?”

“Several hundred, at least,” stated Shart.  “They will be weaker than if they were in the dungeon; however, they will still be much more powerful than your average villager.”

That expanded my list of things to do to include stopping an undead mob.  If I was going to do that, I would need an army by my side.  “Maybe the people of Falcon will unify against the monster threat?”

Badgelor laughed.  Shart laughed.  I groaned.

“There is a civil war going on this season.  No one is going to care if an undead horde is rampaging about,” stated Shart.

“Well, then, I’ll just have to make them care,” I pouted.

As we turned another corner on the poorly maintained road, I spotted a young woman and two small children running across the path.  Her husband was just behind them.  He was holding a club ineffectively, mostly due to the arrow sticking out of his shoulder.  Behind them, three well-equipped bandits were giving chase. 

“Are those deserters?” I asked, bringing up my Lore for the nearest bandit.  I didn’t have time to really see anything.  Two purple beams intersected with his chest, and the man exploded into gory chunks.  I tried to bring up Lore on the next target, but Badgelor was already moving toward him at a high rate of speed. 

As they saw Badgelor, both remaining bandits failed their brown underwear checks. 

Lore required you to examine something in detail.  Bouncing up and down while riding a badger made that a bit of a chore.  I decided to try it airborne and stood up, planning to launch myself forward.  I put my foot on the top of Badgelor’s head and leapt high into the air.  Unfortunately, mid-air Lore was no simpler to use than badger-riding Lore.  I gave up and activated Falling Star Strike on the third target, just as Badgelor grabbed the second one. 

As lower-level bandits, they didn’t stand a chance.  By the time I landed, my Falling Star Strike had turned my target into paste. The blast wave alone probably would have finished him off, but he was my primary target.  Badgelor ripped the head off the remaining bandit. 

The entire engagement lasted only a few moments.  In that time, Badgelor had managed to cover himself in blood. Thankfully, my strike had blasted the remains of the second bandit away from myself and onto Badgelor.  He didn’t seem to mind, judging by the disturbing way he was licking his paws.  I turned to look at the family.  They had stopped running and were openly gaping at us.

I shrugged and started walking over to them.  “Greetings, citizens, how can I help you?”

The man struggled to speak.  Both children hid behind their mother.  I looked sheepishly at my sword for a moment, quickly sheathing it.  I gestured toward the arrow.  The man looked uncertain but decided to let me examine it.  I took the opportunity to use Lore.

●   Ben Jay Hogan Crosby Spence, Expert Farmer

●   HP: 17/80

●   Stamina: 33/60

●   Mana: 20/20

●   Injury: Arrow lodged in shoulder; any actions with his arm will cause 1-4 points of Damage, until the arrow is removed. 

I activated my Healing skill and pulled out the arrow.  Then, I cast Heal Damage on him, restoring much of his Health.  Ben was left with an 8 point lingering injury caused by the arrow.  I cast Regenerate on him and quickly realized why everyone didn’t just use that spell.

Reviewing my lore, Ben’s stats were straight +0 except for Strength and Endurance which were both +1.  Because the Regeneration spell used the target’s stats to determine its effectiveness, it took almost a minute before it healed enough Damage to restore the wound.  The spell didn’t have quite enough power left over to recover the rest of Ben’s Hit Points.  I cast Heal Damage on him again. 

As his arm healed, the man’s eyes bugged out.  “Thank you, Grebthar.”  He fell to his knees, motioning for his family to do the same.

I groaned inwardly.  “My name is Jim.”

“Yes, Grebthar,” replied the man, as all four stood.  I decided it wasn’t worth the fight.

“What happened to you?” I asked, looking over their bedraggled state.

“The duke decided he wanted to take our lands,” stated Ben, flexing his hand.  The injury had already healed, but I fully understood the desire to test out the repairs.  I glanced over at the rest of his family and quietly cast Heal Damage on his wife and his injured children.

“You live on lands affiliated with the duchess?’ I asked.  It wasn’t much of a guess, as those two were the only significant factions. 

“No,” he said, straightening, “We live on free lands.  Both the duke and the duchess are trying to take them for themselves.  We paid a charter to the king, may Grebthar protect his soul.”  With that last sentence, he timidly looked over at me.

“They are attacking the whole village and will burn it soon,” said his wife.  She looked at me imploringly, as if I could save the entire village.

●   Save the Village of Aetna.  The Village of Aetna is being attacked by forces engaged in the civil war.  Will you save it? <Yes/No>

I stared at the prompt.  For a heartbeat or two, I really considered it.  O’Really would have refused.  He would have said it was unimportant and against the primary quest, even if people were dying.  Shart was yelling about what a bad idea it was.  I accepted.  O’Really was an asshole, and Shart wasn’t any better. 

“Take your family to safety,” I said.  Ben nodded and the four departed. 

In the waning light, I looked down at the bodies of the men I had just killed.  They were the duke’s men, not bandits.  They were just rampaging across the countryside.  I brought up my remote town management interface.

“Mar, is Zorlando available?” I asked. 

“I believe he is in the Barracks,” replied Mar.  I considered that for a moment.  I could connect to any government building with Remote Administration, so I attempted to connect to the Barracks.  I found myself looking at the main briefing room.  The map of the valley showed scattered markers, all indicating places where the Dashing Dandies had battled with the trolls. 

A combat medic walked by.  It took me a long moment to recognize Ashe.  She had cut her hair.

“Ashe, I need to speak to Zorlando,” I stated.  She spun.  Her expression went from confusion to something a bit below anger. 

“I will find him, sir,” she stated, turning to leave. 

In the meantime, I calmly looted the bodies.  None of their equipment was tremendous, but anything helped.  I remounted Badgelor, and we headed in the direction of Aetna.  

Finally, Zorlando ran into view.  His armor was still immaculate, though there were obvious signs of repair on it.  “Jim, I, Zorlando, am honored to have you here, even if it must be like this.  Of course, I would much rather be conversing with you in person.   Speaking of which, how long until you return?”

“Unknown, I have to rescue a princess,” I stated.  Zorlando just nodded.

“With you, it is to be expected.  Do not fear!  Zorlando is here!  I will protect the people of our village until you return,” he said confidently, inhaling for a second round. 

“I might be fighting against some units in Falcon.  Anything I should know?” I asked, cutting Zorlando off.  It was always good if you could stop him before he got fully into the swing of things.  I noticed Ashe had returned to the room.  She was still not quite glaring at me.

“The wine drinkers,” stated Zorlando, laughing sharply.  “Their army is not much to speak of.  The King’s Guard is pretty impressive, but most of the rabble is not fit to hold a spear.”

“Excellent!  Badgelor and I have to go save a village.  I was concerned that they would be tough customers,” I explained.

Zorlando’s eyebrows rose.  “Badgelor is already there?  That is one speedy badger.”

I nodded.  Badgelor had joined me very quickly, and I wasn’t sure his cover story held up well.  On the other hand, I didn’t need Badgelor’s cover story to hold up at all.  He’d tell me when he wanted to, or he’d keep his secrets.

“Well,” continued Zorlando, “My magnificent person hasn’t fought them in years, but I do remember our battles.  Generally, they try to have at least one adventurer leading any sizable group of soldiers.  I remember a duel I had to fight with a Man-at-Arms that was quite dangerous.”

I mentally translated that to ‘I got my ass kicked.’ Zorlando was still alive, though, which brought up some strange possibilities. “What happens when you defeat an enemy officer?”

“There is a ransom paid.  You can collect it in the field, or, if you can hold them in comfort, you can charge their families more to recover them,” he stated. 

“What about the armies?” I asked.

“Mostly window dressing, so that the adventurers can play war,” stated Zorlando scornfully.  I was facing a bunch of adventurers playing war with decently trained armies.  Well, that seemed normal. 

I nodded and glanced over to Ashe.  “Spill it.”

She harrumphed, stepping closer to Zorlando.  “My father sent us a letter about the war.”

“He had orders to go, no matter what happened,” I replied coolly.  Ashe’s face twisted up at that.

“I know that!  I mean, my father’s letter mentioned that...that woman, and it is entirely your fault,” she explained.

“SueLeeta?” I asked.  I knew she was trying to win over Dalton but having confirmation she was winning him over was nice.  Maybe she could find a touch of happiness in that massive dolt’s arms.  “She is a good woman.”

“She is trying to be my stepmother,” hissed Ashe.  All of Dalton’s wards seemed terrified of evil stepmothers, for some reason.  SueLeeta would qualify as more of a horny stepmother than an evil one.  Still, I had dealt with a friend’s daughters who were unhappy about their father dating.  Looking at Ashe, I realized the level of jealousy that she was dripping with over the situation.  She was at that age of wishing to be seen as an independent adult while still wanting to be Daddy’s girl.    

Trying to explain to daughters that they had to let their fathers date wasn’t something I could handle well.  I had to approach this carefully, with as much fatherly empathy as I could manage.  “Maybe she’ll die in the war?”

Ashe stopped her mini tantrum, looking horrifyingly hopeful.  “You think so?”

“Who knows?  She nearly got killed several times in the dungeon,” I stated, as cheerily as I could.  “I had to save her, and I’m not with her to help her now.”

Ashe smiled for a moment, then her face sagged.  “Daddy is with her.  That woman is decent, but my daddy is the best.”

Zorlando gave me a completely deadpan expression.  There was no way I was going to remind Ashe that her father was in the dungeon, as well, when I was saving SueLeeta.  I just shrugged and broke the connection.  I wasn’t the one sleeping with her.  I didn’t need to figure her out. 

“Alright, Badgelor, let's go save a town,” I commanded.  We continued marching northward into the sunset.

Chapter 41 – The Battle for Aetna

Fortunately, armies on Ordinal didn’t typically fight at night and almost never did in Falcon.  One might assume such a tactic was for the soldiers' benefit.  There were certainly a number of valid military reasons that made fighting in the dark less than ideal.  In reality, the Falconian commanders all started drinking after sundown.  They followed their evenings by sleeping in and having a nice brunch the next day.  Then, and only then, would they resume their fighting.   

That gave me time to rest, so we camped out overnight.  It had been a long day of getting my ass kicked, being buried alive, kicking ass, and riding a badger for hours.  I needed a break.  We continued moving at sunrise. 

“Two more days,” stated Shart.

“We didn’t expect to find the temple on the first day.  We are now in the general area, at least” I replied. 

“The problem is that we could still be ten leagues away in any direction,” stated Badgelor.  A competent army, with the right talents, could move at least four leagues a day, at a league an hour.  Badgelor could move much faster, if I wanted to feed him Stamina over the distance.  I could reliably say that the temple was north of our current position, which meant we ‘only’ had about 400 square leagues to search.  That wasn’t feasible, so I needed someone to point us in a less vague direction.     

We stopped by the springs that fed the local fields.  I imagined that, under normal circumstances, these fields would have been a bountiful resource, able to provide for the larger, nearby towns.  Presently, the fields that were still intact were in disastrous shape.  I didn’t see any capacity for them to produce a harvest.

A wall surrounded the village of Aetna, a failed attempt at protecting it.  The inner portion of the city was a bit less on fire, at least.  Everything outside the wall was burning.  The few buildings inside the courtyard were in a mixed process of either being lit on fire by the attacking armies or put out by desperate citizens.  Those that called Aetna home were frantically flinging buckets of water from their meager wall.  It was a hopeless endeavor.  

Two armies had both decided to attack the village.  The army from the east had a large falcon embroidered on a purple banner.  Falcons did not exist on Ordinal, so that made about as much sense as putting a Griffin on a flag.  They were wearing purple tabards, so I decided they must be more of the duke's troops.  They were not an impressive sight.  They had broken into two formations, each about fifty strong.  One group was pounding on the eastern gate, and the other group was trying to climb over the ten-foot wall.  Neither formation seemed to be accomplishing much.  Behind the wall, a young woman was screaming and waving a sword at them. 

The other army had a blue falcon on their banner and were wearing green tabards.  They were, perhaps, a hair more competent at their siege work than the purple shirts, having constructed a ram out of local materials.  The ram was allowing them to batter at the gate on the western side of the village.  Their second group of troops was equally unsuccessful in trying to climb over the town’s wall.  Behind them, a young man was waving a mace and screaming at the top of his lungs. 

It looked very much like two children playing war; neither seemed to be very good at it.  Both the commanders were exposed, and, for a brief moment, I considered just smashing them.  Due to the Rules of War on Ordinal, I couldn’t make a sniper shot at an enemy commander.  I could, however, use my Army of One Warleader perk to charge an exposed unit.  There was a problem, though.  Both commander targets were highly ineffective.  I was confident their loss wouldn’t immediately stop their soldiers from ransacking the town.  Unfortunate, because stopping their soldiers from ransacking the town was my ultimate objective. 

“How are they getting fifty-man units?” I asked Shart, considering my options. Windfall typically had adventurers leading larger units, which allowed us to cheat on unit sizes.  A sergeant could lead a ten-man team, but I didn’t see any sergeants on either side.  These units all seemed well-trained and competently led, despite the actual commander not knowing what the hell they were doing.

“Lieutenants,” stated Shart, glancing through the <metadata>.  “Lieutenants are one step over Sergeants.  They take up more Command Points than normal, but, if you don’t have adventurers to use, they are a much better alternative than a bunch of Sergeants.”

“Why?” I asked, bringing up the remote town interface.  The Windfall militia had earned even more War Points since the last time I’d checked.  As I scanned, I did find a lieutenants’ quarters.

“They can use the army’s War Talents on their squads, instead of everything having to come from the army’s commander,” stated Shart.  I nodded, selecting the building.  That was handy.  I had some War Leader talents that allowed my men to battle on, despite horrific wounds. It would be convenient for the rank and file to manage that.  Plus, Zorlando was the only adventurer still fighting with the soldiers. 

It looked like a lieutenant was much more capable than a sergeant, but then I realized that it also put a single point of failure into the unit.  Typically, if a company lost a sergeant, it was part of a regular battle.  Battles meant that more people had also died.  However, the remaining sergeants could absorb the fallen into their squads.  On the other hand, if you lost all lieutenants, the entire unit would probably collapse. 

I decided that the Dashing Dandies would need a mixture of the two to function efficiently.  I had to imagine that more powerful leaders would help Zorlando.  I flicked a lieutenants’ quarters onto the town’s priority build list and looked over at the attackers. 

The ram was about to break through the gate, so I gestured to Badgelor.  “Wanna test out your Laser Vision?”

Badgelor grinned, and I activated my War Leader talent, Army of One.  It allowed me to enter a mass battle as a unit.  I could rush in without it, but I would have been at a huge disadvantage.  Companies in an army enjoyed significant reinforcing buffs granted by their War Leader.  Defeating ten ordinary people by myself was child’s play.  However, if those ten were fighting as part of an army being led by a competent officer, I’d be in trouble.   

●   Jim, the Curious Puppy (Army of One)

●   Shelly Ellis, Ducal Army, 2 Units Infantry (101 troops)

●   Jerry Senna, Duchall Army, 2 Units Infantry (101 troops)

“Shouldn’t that be the Duchess’s Army?” I asked.

“Dukes get a special word and duchesses don’t?  That sounds stupid,” stated Badgelor. Not sexist, stupid.  Ordinal was progressive like that.   

Both army’s leaders turned to face me, as Badgelor and I strolled onto the field.  If the rank and file noticed me, I didn’t see it.  Badgelor and I picked the battlefield's western side, where the battering ram was doing its best to shatter the gate.  We headed directly for the ram.  Even with our increased power, Laser Vision had a limited range.  Fortunately, neither army had any archers.  I moved Badgelor into position, while Jerry screamed at his men about our presence.  He, at least, noticed I was coming. 

Jerry was a walking slab of bright steel.  The only thing I could see at this pace was the heraldry on his armor.  Instead of a falcon, his protection had a large hawk emblazoned upon it.  I interpreted that to mean he wasn’t significant enough to put a falcon on his armor. 

Badgelor lined up his Laser Vision.  I found myself working as a loader, pouring Mana into the attack.  Once I had given Badgelor three-fourths of my Mana, I slapped him on his furry back.  Looking past his head, all I could see were two glowing, purple auras.  From behind Badgelor’s head, the light was more potent than the noonday sun.  It reminded me of that one nightlight my wife used to insist on using.  I’d called it ‘Midday on Tatooine.’  I gestured toward the ram and shrugged.  It was the most valuable target on the field.  It was so large that it took fifty soldiers to push it forward, and its thick wooden logs stopped any attacks from the town. 

●   Destructive Gaze: Disintegration: 180 Damage.  Secondary Effect: Burning Gaze (spend more than 50 Mana), Penetrating Shot (spend more than 100 Mana) Scattering Shot (spend more than 150 Mana)

When Badgelor fired the blast, I didn’t know what to expect.  I was hoping for something dramatic.  I underestimated the effect.  The twin purple beams struck the side of the solid wood ram, blasting through the logs.  Everything seemed to stall for a moment.  Then, the blasts continued, blowing out the other side in a shotgun blast of purple rays.  The ram stopped moving abruptly, flames shooting from the two large holes in its sides. 

We continued moving closer.  I waited for some screaming.  I thought there might be some troops left alive that would try to escape the increasingly violent flames that were shooting out of every crack in the ram.  I didn’t have to wait long.  Within moments, people began screaming and running in groups from the wagon.

“I’m surprised that many were left alive,” I said, watching the front of the ram collapse in on itself.  Some of the troops were rolling around on the grass, trying to put themselves out.  It seemed that things like stop, drop, and roll still impacted a Burning effect.

“Did you want me to kill them?” asked Badgelor.  “I thought we were trying to capture an army.”

“I guess,” I said unconvincingly, as the last few troops ran out.  Most of them were at less than half Health.  That was enough to get the entire group running for the hills.  I guessed their leader could collect them later.  

The Duchall Army did not react well to half of its number being routed in one strike.  The remaining troops started breaking, giving up on their ill-fated campaign to climb the walls.  They rushed back toward their officer. 

“Well, shit, I don’t know if we need soldiers who are that green,” I said, looking toward the Ducal Army.  It was not much more impressive.  Badgelor shrugged, and we started moving toward the duke’s soldiers.  Through the simple lack of eyes on the ram, they had not yet realized what had happened.  Had their commander been somewhat competent, a scout would have seen what Badgelor had done, and they would have adjusted their tactics.  I watched the commander for a moment.  She was another individual wearing an impressive suit of armor, who was now ignoring me.  We were allowed to walk far too closely to the unit, before Badgelor stopped and began pawing the earth.

The unit contained mostly spearmen, armed with short spears that were maybe six feet in length.  They were using their weapons to poke at the villagers on the walls, while other soldiers tried to use debris to climb over. 

With my Mana pool mostly depleted, all we could do was a Stamina based attack.  I kicked my heels into Badgelor’s sides.

“Try that again, and yer pulling back stumps,” stated the badger.

“Well, how am I supposed to signal you to go forward?” I grumbled.

“We can speak telepathically, you dolt,” replied Badgelor.

“Charge?” I asked.

By the time we charged, the spearmen had figured out what we planned to do.  They barely had enough time to form ranks, laying out a line of spears before us.  If a horse had seen such a formation, they would have balked, refusing to charge into such a mess.  Badgelor looked at them like they were insignificant pests. 

Interestingly, only about twenty troopers had formed up, as we charged in. The remaining thirty soldiers were still trying to break into the village.  They seemed content to ignore us.  Badgelor slammed into the spears with little regard to them.  The short spears were not large enough for their wielders to properly brace, nor were they long enough to pierce through Badgelor’s fur.

“Pincushion Defense,” yelled someone.  Instead of Badgelor smashing through the thin ranks of spears, they somehow stopped him.  That wasn’t to say they did Damage or that several soldiers didn’t get knocked senseless by his claws.  However, Badgelor didn’t instantly smash through them.

“Are you sure we need these soldiers?” asked Badgelor.  He did another clawed swipe at the enemy, knocking two more troops aside. 

I grinned, launching myself from his oversized head.  I was aiming for where the lieutenant was standing, since I couldn’t attack him with a ranged attack.  Fortunately, nothing was stopping me from getting up close and personal with him.  I held up my blade and prepared a Falling Star Strike, descending like a comet straight into another wall of spears.

They had formed ranks unnaturally fast.  Instead of landing in a disorganized mass of soldiers, I landed, point-first, into six different spears.  They aimed their pincushioning effect right at my gut, which both countered my attack and drove my full weight into their sharp, metal tips. 

●   You have suffered 48 points of Damage.  

By dumping a horrific amount of Stamina into Mitigate, I was able to mostly resist the Damage.  A conventional spear strike normally wouldn’t have bothered me much.  However, getting my maximum vertical height before landing on six of them was a bit much, even for me. 

The lieutenant, who I determined was an asshole, smirked. 

I executed Cleave, breaking through enough spears that I was able to slip free from the shafts.  I landed on my feet right next to the aforementioned asshole.  His smirk faded, as I executed Hack and Slash.  Several of his soldiers closed in on us.  Shit.  Hack and Slash required me to spread out my attacks over multiple targets, if more than one was available.

I was going to have to switch tactics.  Most sensible people disliked being on the receiving end of a Powerful Blow.  I didn’t try to kill anyone, but anyone I hit was out of the fight.  Unfortunately, they were not under any such tactical constraints.  They had decided my body was an excellent place to put their spears' tips.    

Suddenly, I was surrounded.  While I’d been in combat with a variety of melee weapons before, I was going to put spears down as my least favorite.  Fantasy weapons were overrated.  A long stick with a point on it was hard to get around, especially in numbers. 

With most of my Duelist attacks on cooldown, I had to get creative.  One of the spearmen struck at me, so I executed my Riposte talent. It yanked me to the left and allowed me to land a Powerful Blow against my would-be attacker.  Again, it wasn’t enough to kill him, but, unsurprisingly, most normal people stopped fighting after suffering a ghastly head wound. 

That put me at the edge of the formation.  I was able to use Quick Strikes, combined with Powerful Blows, to smash into the formation several times.  I usually attacked with my Duelist talents, so it was unusual that I used my Sword skill this extensively.  Unfortunately, some skills were less useful in mass combat than in regular battles.  Against opponents of these soldiers’ levels, one of my Powerful Blows should have sent them flying.  Instead, it just jolted them within their formation. 

Fortunately, now that I wasn’t getting attacked on every side, I was able to use my Fancy Footwork to avoid most of their strikes.  However, I was going to have to wait until my cooldowns expired to press the attack again.  Unfortunately, the lieutenant seemed to realize that.  The troops were working to press me up against the wall. 

It wouldn’t work.  I could jump the wall, but that would be more Stamina from an increasingly shrinking pool.  I also couldn’t be certain of a warm reception from the villagers. 

Then, the lieutenant vanished.  Badgelor had broken through the spear line and grabbed him with one massive paw.  The previously reliable spearmen suddenly wavered.  My cooldowns expired, and everything proceeded as expected.  Unlike a formation led by multiple sergeants, the whole unit collapsed when the lieutenant dropped. 

I activated Lunge, impaling the closest spearman in the shoulder.  I followed that attack up with a Cleave, which opened up space in their formation.  Within seconds, I had struck fifteen of them with my blade, each strike opening up massive, bleeding wounds.  A few tried to move in to counterattack, but they came in without command.  I sliced into them. 

Suddenly, it was over.  The entire formation dissolved, as the remaining troopers routed away from us.  Badgelor tossed the lieutenant’s limp body against the wall and looked down at me.

“Don’t try anything from the air against spears, Dum Dum,” he said flatly.

I heard Shart laughing hysterically in my head.  “No shit,” I hissed.  “No one would be that stupid twice.”  I cast a quick Heal Damage on the lieutenant and another nearby soldier, before hopping onto Badgelor’s back.  The lieutenant was much more durable than a sergeant would have been.  His wounds quickly began to knit with my Healing magic.  Next, I cast Regeneration on myself.  I would have healed Badgelor, as well, but the arse hadn’t taken any significant Damage. 

We were moving at a good clip toward the next unit of soldiers.  I glanced over at the commander.  She was trying to reform what remained of the company of spearmen we had just defeated.  We hadn’t killed any of them outright, though I doubted they would thank me for that.  I’d injured more than half of them.  The guy who I’d impaled was going to be downright cross with me. 

“Breath it in, Jim,” stated Badgelor, as we got closer. 

I sniffed slightly.  The smell was unpleasant, full of burning buildings and death.  “What exactly am I doing?”

“Use Scent and focus on the soldiers.  What can you tell me?” asked Badgelor.  He sounded like a patient elementary school teacher.

I tried to concentrate on my sniffing.  It seemed crazy, but I did have the Scent skill.  Additionally, all my Explorer talents focused on my nose.  As I breathed in, I noticed something strange.  There was a faint, intoxicating aroma that grew stronger the closer we got to the troops. 

“Fear,” grinned Badgelor.  “It’s the smell of fear.  Use your fancy acrobatics here.”

The troopers formed up into ranks again.  This time, they were shaped like a bowl.  Badgelor happily charged them.  The front line had shields at the ready, like that was going to stop the badger.  He smashed straight into them, leaving most struggling to stay on their feet.  The remainder went for Badgelor’s backside.  Their strategy wasn’t great, considering five of Badgelor’s six ends were pointy.  Badgelor was just as inclined to use a rear leg to send a soldier flying as he was to bite someone with enough force to mold their helmet over their eyes. 

I, meanwhile, was on my second attempt at a Falling Star Strike.  I was hoping dearly I would have more luck facing the swords than I had with the spears.  As I flew, I realized what the problem had been with my previous attempt.  The spearmen had, more or less, just jammed the butts of their weapons into the ground and ducked.  I had done most of the work, impaling myself, like the true dumbass Shart was convinced I was.  The swordsmen, however, had formed into a tortoiseshell formation with swords and shields.  My Powerful Falling Star Strike recognized their pattern as stable enough ground to activate.   

The shield underneath me exploded into flinders.  The trooper’s arm holding it was also obliterated, as the pressure wave of my impact blew out in all directions.  It was arguable that the midair detonation was worse, as it left more energy to blast into them. 

Powerful Blow may not have had enough umph on its own to send soldiers flying, but it absolutely did when used with my Falling Star Strike.  The troops adjacent to me went flying backward, many of them slamming into other nearby troopers.  Their formation was abruptly destroyed. 

This unit’s lieutenant had made a mistake.  She was a higher level and could stand firm, even as I blasted the troopers around her away.  That left her nice and exposed.  I executed a Hack and Slash against her as a single target.   Using the flat of my blade, I hit her five times in rapid succession.  With the final ringing hit to her helmet, the woman fell to her knees.  Then, she flopped to the ground, unconscious. 

For one glorious instant, I was a total badass, as the remaining soldiers dropped their weapons and ran.  Then, I noticed their commander, an adventurer, charging toward me, her lance aimed squarely at my chin.  As I adjusted my position to receive the charge, I noticed the other commander, also an adventurer, racing toward me, as well.  His mace was drawn, and he did not look pleased. 

“Well, that sucks,” stated Shart.

“No, it's going to be hilarious,” I replied.  Using my trick normally reserved for catching arrows, I caught the lance's tip and drove it into the ground. 

She pole vaulted off her horse, flipped once in mid-air, and landed in a roll.  That forced the other adventurer to divert his attack.  She came to her feet with an expression of pure murder on her face.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” she screamed.  “You are ruining a magnificent battle!”

“We don’t need any pissant Grebthar wannabe butting his way into this,” exclaimed the other adventurer.

“You two are raiding a village.  People are dying,” I growled.

“They are commoners. Who cares?” stated Shelly, as I finally bothered to read their name tags. 

“Laying it on a bit thick, old man,” grumbled Jerry.  He adjusted his movements to get around my flank.

“Weren’t you two fighting just a second ago?” I growled, watching both of them. 

“We were fighting a recognized battle in the civil war!  This is the Battle for Aetna,” stated Shelly.

“Roll credits,” yelled Shart, I groaned.  

“That’s nice,” grinned Jerry, continuing to move into my flank.  I was compensating for that, making sure he didn’t have a good line on me.  A more experienced fighter would have realized that and kept stationary, waiting for an opening.  Instead, he was blatantly telegraphing his intentions, which let me plan a defense. 

“Explain, or I’ll cut you in half,” I said calmly.

“Explain what?” growled Shelly.  Before I could answer, she executed a Thrust.  I parried it quickly, even as Jerry came in from the side.  I used Fancy Footwork to position Shelly into the path of his attack.  He pulled his strike.  He had to; his only other option was to hit her squarely in the face with his mace.  Probably not his best bet.

“Why are you fighting?” I clarified, moving away.  They both started advancing toward me again.

“Because it's this season of the Civil War of Falcon.  Are you daft?” asked Jerry.

“Wait, you are just fighting because there’s a civil war?  Don’t you care who wins?” I questioned.

“Of course not,” replied Shelly.  “My family supports the duke.  Jerry is with the duchess.  Eventually, one of them will become the next ruler.  This happens every decade or so.  There is no sense getting killed over a simple dynastic struggle.  You aren’t even wearing heraldry. Who are you fighting for?”

“I’m fighting for justice,” I said.  Both guffawed. 

“A modern-day Grebthar!” exclaimed Shelly, rolling her eyes.  “Let me tell you something, Curious Puppy.  I don’t care how tough you are or how big your badger is.  We don’t take shit from the likes of you.”

“He has a War Badger, though.  I’ve never even seen one up close,” stated Jerry, turning around.  He quickly discovered that, while we were talking, Badgelor had walked right up behind them.  The badger’s snout was inches away from Jerry’s face.  His next quick discovery was that Badgelor had a whole bunch of really sharp teeth.

Jerry jerked, which caused Shelly to turn in his direction.  With her attention divided, it was child’s play to strike her wrist.  I used enough force to knock her weapon free.  As Jerry recognized me as an actual threat, it was nothing for Badgelor to step on him.  Jerry was driven face-first into the dirt.  Badgelor stepped on Shelly’s weapon for good measure, leaving her more permanently disarmed than I had.  My sword was also at her neck.

“This is stupid.  You two children need to go home,” I growled.

“Like hell!  Who do you think you are to order us about, the king?” growled Shelly, standing with her spine erect.  Jerry said something, too, but he was face down in the mud.  He could have been pleading for help or making death threats; it all would have sounded the same. 

I reached forward and grabbed her by the armor, then lifted.  Lifting heavy objects was a combination of your Strength stat and your Stamina pool.  I had a massive pool of Stamina that had regenerated, and I was well and truly done with this.  “No, I am Jim, the Curious Puppy.  You need to learn to mind your manners.”

●   Intimidation check: critically successful, Rank Up! New rank: Advanced!

“Sorry, Daddy, I’ve been naughty,” she hissed out with wild eyes.  That was the actual reply used in the stupid Curious Puppy books, when Jim taught someone a lesson they should already know.  I dropped her, and she staggered backward.  She fell to the ground and scampered away.

“You will swear to leave this village alone, or, so help me, I’ll make you regret it,” I growled.

Shelly nodded and swore an oath before dashing away to her horse.  Badgelor removed his foot, and Jerry quickly rose to look around.  The adventurer stood still for a moment before glaring at me. “And if I refuse, just what are you going to do about it?”

Chapter 42 – A greater army

“How many different kinds of knots do you know?” muttered Jerry, as we continued walking down the path.  The villagers at Aetna had kindly pointed it out to me.  At least, it was the direction they thought the ruined temple was in.  My Sense Motive skill informed me it was a guess, at best. 

Jerry was the first part of my small army plan.  After casting Regeneration on the soldier whose arm I had removed, I’d gathered up Jerry’s soldiers.  We were now marching toward the possible direction of the ruined temple. 

“Enough,” I said and stopped.  The unit cried out “Halt,” and all the soldiers halted in good order.  Jerry, who was now in his underwear, looked back at them.  Then, he returned his gaze to me. 

“You have the War Leader talent,” he said, looking uncomfortable.  “I don’t even have any ranks in that skill.”

I looked down on him from Badgelor, trying to keep up the impression of majesty without rolling my eyes.  It was a challenge.  War Leader was the talent you used to command troops.  I was actually up to rank 5 in War Leader, after my last set of bouts with the trolls in Windfall.  They were worth a lot of experience. 

However, the only way to earn War Leader experience was to fight.  The steeper the odds, the better your gains.  Jerry had been fighting what amounted to scripted wars.  If you had no real chance of dying, there was only a minimal experience gain. 

Turning back to face the road, I noticed the slight glare on Jerry’s face.  Following his gaze, I saw he was staring at my wrists.  I’d kept his bracers, because I liked bracers.  His were far better than my old ones.  Jerry looked positively miserable.  Stealing adventurer’s gear just wasn’t done.  Of course, I’d only done it to get a rise out of him.  That, and I really liked bracers.   

“I’m bored with this.  Do you have any useful information in that thick skull of yours?  If not, I may feed you to my badger.”

Badgelor rolled his eyes.  He wouldn’t eat something as scrawny as Jerry, but I didn’t need to tell Jerry that.  The adventurer paled.  Badgelor yawned in his direction, showing off row after row of sharp badger fangs. 

“You asked about the temple.  I know something about that,” replied Jerry quickly.

“Which is?” I asked.

“Well, my commanding officer probably knows right where it is,” stated Jerry.

“The duchess?” I questioned.  When you hear of heads of state fighting a war, you just don’t think of them doing it right outside your borders.  Of course, Windfall was a week or so away, and I was fighting in battles.  Then, there was the war between TimSimons and HarCharles.  I needed to deal with that on my other border. 

“No, Commander Lorraine Channing Wells,” stated Jerry confidently.  “We are standing in her fief.  If anyone knows of an ancient temple around here, it would be her,” Jerry said.

I pinged Shart.  “Have you found the stupid temple yet?”

“I told you I couldn’t locate it very well.  I’m closer than when I started, but the search area is still several leagues across,” stated Shart.  “The burning villages up north are helping me lock it down, though.”

“Fine,” I said, looking down at Jerry.  My towering perch on Badgelor really did make me feel majestic.  “Where is she?”

What followed was a four-league trek across the country, as we moved north in search of this illustrious commander.  Jerry spent the whole time explaining all her many virtues and the size and power of her command.  I spent the time working on my eye-rolling muscles.  We completed the trip far faster than Jerry had expected.

He didn’t have any ranks in War Leader, so he didn’t realize that each rank granted a flat 5% increase in moving speed over distance.  My five ranks, therefore, gave a +25% bonus to the entire unit.  Then, there was my Hiking skill, which granted my group a +10% bonus on paths that I’d walked before and all roads.  Since we were following the road deeper into Lorrain’s territory, my army was positively zippy. 

Usually, an army traveled a league an hour for approximately four hours.  That meant that the normal distance traveled per day was 4 leagues.  You could march longer than that, but your army’s morale and endurance took hits, making it generally inadvisable to do so.  My abilities granted a +35% movement speed to the army, bumping us up to a total of just over a league every 45 minutes.  Plus, my War Leader let us march an hour longer without penalty, so we could march for five hours a day.  In total, we could cover seven leagues in one day's march. 

I initially found it interesting that Jerry’s lieutenants followed me, but, if you had the command, I supposed it wasn’t that odd.  It made sense in a play war. 

The Falconian Civil War method of fighting was that one army would march across the province and conquer all the little towns.  The next week, the other side would liberate them all.  Then, they would rinse and repeat, until the war ended.  Most of the time, a new ruler was selected, and that ended things.

Hamlets and villages ruled by the nobility were mostly just occupied with a token force.  When the other side took over, they were thrown in “jail” for a week.  Frequently, it was just a room at an inn.  When their side took over again, they were “freed.”  As Jerry explained this to me in detail, I kept wondering if I wouldn’t be better off smashing all of them.

At this level, the civil war was fake.  There were no real consequences, unless you were an independent town.  Those towns would get an offer to join with the nobility.  If they refused, they got raided.  When the raiders grew bored, the elite sacked them.  The commoners in those towns would scatter to other villages and rejoin the population.  The only reason Aetna had not been attacked yet was that the latest war had only started a few weeks ago.  The nobles had been slow off the mark in the local area and had only just gotten around to it. 

As we crossed the country, I tried to imagine what Falcon looked like in season.  With the massive inland sea to the south and mountains to the north, the place reminded me of parts of California.  There were vineyards everywhere, and powerful families seemed to be vying for control every new season.  It was everything a homicidal maniac could possibly need.  Badgelor should feel right at home here.  The ongoing battles seemed to do massive damage at particular points, but, aside from that, the country was beautiful.  

“Well, at least you aren’t fighting over religion,” I muttered, causing Jerry to look up.

“Why would we be?” he asked.

“Do you have any real reason to fight?” I countered. 

He walked in silence for a long moment.  I wasn’t sure he was going to respond, but finally he said, “My duchess told me to.  We are avenging the king.”

“Avenging the king?” I asked.  Jerry looked around uneasily.  Then, he carefully walked closer to me, so that his troops couldn’t hear us.  I bent over to hear him better. 

“It is not common knowledge, but the princess killed her father,” stated Jerry thoughtfully.  “I understand that she had a dalliance with the captain of the King’s Guard, Hardragon.  Her father disapproved, so she poisoned him with a knife.”

I rode silently for a long moment.  First off, poisoning someone with a knife was an odd way of saying that someone stabbed a person to death.  Secondly, it didn’t make sense.  Julia seemed rather upset that someone had killed her father.  She didn’t strike me as the kind of person that could manage it.  The more I thought about it, the less sense it made.

“She didn’t do it,” stated Shart.

“I know,” I replied, “but how can you be certain?”

“If she had, she would have a Kingslayer <flag>.  She didn’t,” stated Shart.

“Have you seen anyone with that flag?” I asked, thinking back to the Shadow Assassin I had fought earlier.  If anyone had done it, it would have been Maggie.   

“No, but I wasn’t looking for it, either,” stated Shart.  “However, I’m sure I would have noticed if it had been attached to Julia when you met her.  The <flag> won’t last for more than a few days, so don’t think we will use it to discover the killer now.”  We would have seen a flag at the lodge, but it would have dissipated before we got to Union. 

I looked down at Jerry.  “I know the king’s assassin was not the princess.”

“Hardragon swore that she was the killer,” stated Jerry confidently.

“He was in on it, as well,” I stated. 

“Hardragon is a Dragonsworn,” stated Jerry, wide-eyed. 

“Dragonsworn?” I asked.

Jerry tried not to cluck out that I was a provincial, but I could see it on his face.  He coughed into his bound hands and continued, “Har is an honorific that the northerners use to denote their sworn duties.  It's rare to find one of them not defending their sacred duty, but, apparently, Hardragon’s dragon is dead.”

“So, HarCharles?” I asked.

“The Storm King, HarCharles, is sworn to defend Charles, whoever that is,” stated Jerry.

“Boy, this Jerry sure is a fountain of unfortunate revelations,” stated Shart, meaning he knew all this already.  The demon just hadn’t bothered to educate me.  I would have been upset, but it's not like I wasn’t going to have to fight HarCharles eventually.  Jerry must have decided that he’d shared enough, as he fell back a couple paces.  We walked in companionable silence for a while.  As we crested a fairly steep hill, we spotted another battle in what used to be productive land.

“Is your commander over there?” I asked, gesturing to the battlefield.  The armies seemed to be circled around four adventurers. 

“Yes, my cousin, Lorraine Channing Wells, is over there.  I don’t recognize the rest at this distance,” stated Jerry.

“What are they doing?” I asked, as the armies began cheering the adventurers on.  It looked like they were dueling, not fighting an actual battle.

“They are dueling, like gentlepersons,” said Jerry.  He elaborated, as I gave him a pained look.  “Sometimes you don’t want your army getting messed up, so you fight a duel with the enemy commander.  The winner takes the loser as their prisoner.”

“You don’t sound too broken up over that,” I said, looking at Jerry.

“Well, normally prisoners are afforded more gracious accommodations than the ones you have provided,” stated Jerry.  As Badgelor glared at him, he amended, “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Of course not,” I said.  As we took in the scene below us, we decided to leave Jerry’s army on the hill to rest.  I proceeded to hop off Badgelor.  I needed to look weaker for this new, unexpected part of my plan to succeed.  My tired critter shrank down, yawned, and crawled onto my shoulder.  I’d been riding him for the better part of the day, so he plopped his tired head down to rest.  He was snoring gently into my ear before we even began strolling down the hill.  Jerry and I made our way across the soft, well-tilled soil into the formation without preamble. 

Now that I wasn’t riding Badgelor and didn’t have an army at my back, the local guards seemed to pay me little interest.  We were just two adventurers that were walking toward the group.  There were duels to watch, after all. Jerry walked proudly at my right, until we saw his cousin.  At that point, he attempted to run toward her while screaming for help. 

I yanked back on his ropes, causing him to flop backward gracelessly and land on his ass.  Lorraine Channing Wells turned her head to look at me.  She had just won a duel, and her new prisoner was discussing terms with her.  Those terms included how long he would stay at her posh estate before being allowed to continue in the war.  He was treating his capture as some sort of vacation, but, if that were the case, Lorraine was the deadliest innkeeper that I’d encountered.

She removed her helmet, revealing blond, shoulder-length hair.  It had been fashioned in a style carefully designed to prevent ‘helmet head.’  Lorraine was athletic, and that was the most I could say about her figure with her armor on.  Protection for women on Ordinal included the most breast-smooshing armor I’d ever seen.  In Falcon, there was a slight concession to the fact that the armor’s wearer was a woman; there was a tiny dimple in the breastplate. 

“Jerry, you idiot,” she said, rising to her feet and walking over to us.  As she approached, she sized me up.  “How much?”

I raised an eyebrow.  “How much what?”

She snorted.  “I hate you outlander adventurers.  You’re always trying to make a name in Falcon by walking around with a string of captives.  How much do you want for my snotty cousin?  I’ll pay you 200 gold to leave him and walk away.”

“I figure we could just fight a duel for him,” I said, walking toward the edge of the arena.  She tilted her head back and laughed.

“I just won a duel with someone who looks a touch more impressive than a traveling Cleric, even a Cleric who happens to be wearing my cousin's bracers.  By the way, I will expect to get those back,” Lorraine said, watching me more intently.  Upon noticing the bracers, her voice had positively flattened.  Jerry must have been correct.  Taking an adventurer’s gear just wasn’t done.  Good.

“Yeah, I figure we duel.  If you win, I’ll give you Jerry.  If I win, I’ll take you prisoner,” I said, reaching the edge of the arena.

“It doesn’t work like that. These duels are business arrangements,” Lorraine retorted. “When I win, I get you AND my whelp of a cousin as prisoners.  If you don’t understand, ask Nick over there.  I got him and his second in command, as well as my younger sister back.  The winner takes all in Falcon.”

“Even better,” I said, gesturing toward the arena.  Lorraine considered it for a moment. Even if Jerry paid her back, 200 gold was 200 gold.  She strolled over to me and gave me a once over.  I’d have done the same, but I’d just watched her fight.  There was no need.  She flicked my armor with her middle finger.  I assumed she had a perk that let her assess an armor’s quality by touching it.  Next, she glanced at my scabbard and sword.  I made no effort to unsheathe the weapon.  She didn’t seem concerned by any of my gear. 

Then, she saw Badgelor.

“An actual War Badger,” she gasped, her eyes growing more expansive.  “Very uncommon.  Tell you what, after I kick it, I won’t throw your unaffiliated ass into the dungeon.  All you have to do is give me your badger.

“We’re kind of a matched set,” I replied.

“You’ll change your mind after a while in my dungeon.”  She grinned wickedly at me and strolled into the arena.  “You won’t be in the nicer parts of my estate.”

“I was in a dungeon recently.  No one liked how I got out,” I replied coolly.  She blinked, increasing her evaluation of me.  If she had a high enough Lore skill, she would have seen that I was a level 9 Cleric and nothing more.  She was cagey and experienced, though.  She would know that Disguise was a thing.  I saw her glance over at Jerry, who traitorously smiled back at her. 

“Well, then, I agree to your terms,” she smiled, gesturing toward the patch of ground they were using as the center of the arena.  There were multiple craters in the soil, where various attacks had blasted up dirt or sent victims to the ground. 

I set Badgelor down, and he woke up. Seeing us surrounded, he expanded to Ultimate Badgelor.  Instantly, the crowd went silent. 

“Dude, I got this,” I said to him in badger, walking into the center.

“I never agreed to let you fight with a trained War Badger,” stated Lorraine.  She attempted to step back. 

“You thought I was bringing him against you?” I asked, drawing Grebthar’s Sword and preparing the formal duel request.  Badgelor was out of the dueling circle.  Once the duel started, he would be unable to enter.  I sent Lorraine the formal duel prompt, and she quickly accepted.  Then, she looked back at me and my sword.  Doing so caused her to inhale sharply.

“Clever,” she said.  “I don’t know where you got that sword, but, after I win, I’ll be claiming it, too.  You know, much like you claimed my cousin’s bracers.”

“If,” I replied.

With no preamble, she launched toward me with a Thrust.  I sidestepped.  She quickly broke into Hack and Slash, striking at me four separate times.  I parried one, dodged two, and blocked the last with Jerry’s bracer.  It was a worthwhile expenditure of a small hunk of my Stamina.  I took only a few Hit Points of Damage.  Lorraine frowned.  She expected her first combination to work as well on me as it had her previous opponent. 

No originality.

“Are we starting?” I asked, bringing my sword fully in line with her.  “I figured you’d want to salute me or something.”

She backed off several paces.  Her initial strike had failed miserably.  It was enough to damage her confidence, which had been my objective. 

“I apologize.  I assumed that you had no manners,” Lorraine said, turning around.  Then, she turned back to face me, her blade in hand.  “I am Lorraine Channing Wells, Commander of the Armies of Calistoga, and I shall defeat you.”

With that last bit, she pulled out a vial and drank the thing in one gulp.  In the next few moments, she visibly swelled, as the Alchemical potion took effect.  As she grew, so did her armor.  I could never get used to that.  Her armor was metal, and metal wasn’t supposed to expand.

“And I am Jim, the Curious Puppy,” I replied, saluting her with my blade and waiting.  She paused at that.

“Seriously?” she asked flatly.  “Are you going to teach me to mind my manners?”

“Have you been naughty?” I deadpanned.  We began to circle each other.

“Where are you from?” she asked, changing the subject.  The potion had not quite reached full efficacy yet.  She was waiting for it to peak before rushing in. 

“Windfall,” I answered.  “It is just west of here.”

“Of course, you are,” she chuckled.  “I hear there are a few quaint, small towns left if you keep going past Kellogg.  You’ll have to forgive me, but you just don’t seem like a local boy.”  Some of the troops laughed, but it was a sickly laugh.  I knew just enough about the great road to know that Kellogg was where the Great Highway ended.  Past that, there were various homesteads and small villages paving the way to the Eastern Gate Fortress.

I activated Flash Steps and appeared directly in front of her, just as she was mid-chuckle.  My sword was ready.  She realized what was happening at the same time, and we both activated Hack and Slash.  She had managed four strikes before, but, with her newly enhanced powers, she was up to six.  I could still only manage five.  In a contest of swings, whoever made the most slashes won.

●   Lorraine has struck you one time.  You suffer 30 Slashing, 2 Severing, and 6 Fire Damage.   Armor 17: 12 Base +5 Block.  Damage: 0 Severing, converted by armor to 2 Slashing.  15 Slashing (13 bypassed armor + 2 converted from Severing.  17 Damage, Slashing converted to Damage. 

●   Your perks reduce all Slashing Damage by half.  Resistance reduces Damage by 38.  Your Dragon Scales perk reduces Fire Damage by 38. 

●   You have suffered 8 points of Slashing Damage

Her confidence recovered, as she realized she could hit me.  I concentrated on casting a quick Heal Damage, which removed the minor Damage.  Lorraine mirrored my movements before moving in closer, ready to really begin hammering me. 

My Duelist build was all about Damage reduction. Even solid hits like Lorraine’s just didn’t do all that much Damage.  She realized this and switched tactics.  Her sword glowed, as she activated a Duelist talent I hadn’t chosen, Felling Strike.

There were a variety of Duelist talents.  Hack and Slash launched you into a bunch of strikes that were good against foes who were not well-armored.  Cleave attacked multiple opponents at once for decent Damage.  Felling Strike, on the other hand, was designed to strike one opponent very hard. 

At Lorraine’s level and experience, Felling Strike caused over 90 points of Damage.  Most of it was Slashing, but 24 points were Severing.  The attack would have cracked through my armor like an egg, had it been successful.  Instead of spreading out the Damage over multiple strikes, Felling Strike was an all-or-nothing blow.  It was designed to end a fight quickly.  

On Ordinal, classes generally had, at most, two or three defenses.  Warriors had Footwork, Parry, and Block.  Rogues had Dodge.  Woodsman had Footwork and Parry.  Specific Paths expanded your options. Adventurer’s gained Parry, and Woodsman who chose Warden gained Block.  Precious few classes had every kind of defense.  Picking which strikes to use against a class was half the real battle in a duel.

Felling Strike worked great against Warriors or Woodsmen.  It did so much Damage that parrying or blocking the strike would have been impossible.  Additionally, Felling Strike was heavy enough that the usual avoidance with Footwork wasn’t enough.  Even defensive talents like Riposte wouldn’t work, because they required a successful Parry or Block.  However, Felling Strike wasn’t a great choice against a Rogue.  They knew Dodge.

I knew Fancy Footwork, a combination of Dodge and Footwork.  As the Felling Strike blasted toward me, I leapt out of its range.  My quick action caused Lorraine Channing Wells to stumble.  As soon as I landed, I executed Thrust.

My attack was very nearly a fiasco.  I went in hard, but I knew she wasn’t as off-balance as she looked.  That knowledge kept me from fully committing.  Lorraine narrowly stepped out of the way, but then my Hack and Slash came off cooldown.

●   Quick, Powerful Hack and Slash: 5 Strikes, + Quick Strikes (3) Total: 8 Strikes

●   Base Damage 17 + 6 (Sword Skill) + 4 (Strength) + 5 (Hack and Slash) + 6 (Powerful Blow) + 2 Severing (Sword Master) total 38 Slashing, 2 Severing. 

Sometimes, it's all about the stats.  Lorraine’s biggest problem was that my numbers were simply bigger than hers.  Spirit governed how long a talent was on cooldown.  That meant that, while it didn’t seem to be all that important, Spirit was critical in duels vs. similar classes.  Because my Spirit was higher than hers, my Hack and Slash came off cooldown first.  She was a sitting duck.   

To her credit, Lorraine was tough enough to take all eight hits.  Her armor was solid, and she had some defensive perks.  If I hadn’t delivered all eight strikes simultaneously to her shoulders, I think she would have survived.  She may have even managed a comeback.

The fact that we were in a farmer’s field also played a part.  The soil was soft and fresh, having just been tilled.  Each of my strikes would have normally sent her flying backward several logs; instead, each strike slammed her deeper into the ground.

When I stepped back from the strike, I had buried Lorraine up to her thighs.  She was at a massive disadvantage, but that wasn’t the end of the world for her.  There were ways to escape, if I gave her time.  Her Hack and Slash had come off cooldown, but I stepped out of range.  She didn’t have a chance to execute it.  Her eyes went from fury to horror, as I leapt up into the sky. 

Now, she was watching me.  I was flying through the heavens, my blade aglow.  I was also screaming “Falling Star Strike.”  She didn’t have a defense that would save her. 

“I yield!”

I aborted the strike, landing next to her.  “Excellent!  Good doing business with you.”

I reached over to help her from her hole.  She grumbled and shoved my extended hand away.  I smirked, turning to find Jerry and the other adventurers looking at me in horror.  From the whispers I could hear, Lorraine did not lose duels. 

“Okay, everyone, line up,” I said, gesturing toward the group.

“I am not following behind some lowly wandering adventurer,” hissed Nick.

“I believe you are,” I replied.

“And how do you expect to accomplish that?” he growled. 

Chapter 43 – The March towards the Sisters

“How many knots can one man know?” hissed Nick, as we continued marching toward Lorraine’s estate.  Fortunately, it was in the same direction that I believed the ruined temple to be in.  I had high hopes that my scratch-built, little army would soon be useful. 

My expanded scratch-built, little army was less cooperative than I’d hoped.  Right after the fight, they had planned to go to Lorraine’s estate for a party.  Fortunately, I had chosen to go that direction anyway, so they had agreed to follow me.  I tied Jerry to Lorraine, who I then tied to Merideth, her sister.  I proceeded from there to Nick, and ended my prison chain gang with Robin, an adventurer in the employ of Nick.  It truly was a chain of misery. 

I had to figure out a better way of tying people up.  You could describe my current style as Shibari-inspired.  It didn’t help that I’d had them remove all their magical weapons and toss them into my glowing disk of dimensional storage. I had allowed them to keep their magical armor, this time.  We looked as ordinary as we possibly could, as I marched five adventurers and their armies behind me. 

Of all of them, Nick was the most upset.  He had been ready to crash at Lorraine’s country estate, complete with hot springs and swimming pool.  Now, he was being dragged behind a man and his badger. 

“Could we at least have our horses?” mumbled Merideth.  She was a Cleric of Natasha, so I didn’t trust her at all.  It just did not seem wise.  She tried to be the voice of reason, but, as soon as I’d relented and let her ride, she’d tried to escape.  That had been two hours ago. “Or at least loosen some of the ropes?”

Jerry and Lorraine talked most of the way.  Their discussion amounted to Lorraine talking at Jerry, and Jerry freaking out.  Lorraine’s voice grew more and more heated.  It was clear she blamed her cousin for their current predicament.  Finally, she gave his ears a rest and turned on me.  Angrily, she yelled out, “So, what do you think you are doing?”

“Currently, I’m stopping you guys from tearing around the countryside needlessly killing people,” I replied boastfully.  I had been using my best Sir Dalton impression since we’d left the field.  I’d quickly discovered why he did it.  When you oozed that much confidence, people second-guessed themselves.  Lorraine was typically all fire and brimstone with me, but she considered something for a brief instant. 

“We are trying to avenge the death of our king!” called out Lorraine.  Instantly, Nick turned to yell at me, as well.

“We are trying to avenge the death of our king,” he parroted, before adding, “Everyone knows the duchess is responsible.”

“Hardly, it was the duke.  He ordered the princess to kill her father.  The duke is a terrible coward,” growled out Lorraine.  She had spun around to yell at Nick.  Merideth quickly found herself in the middle of the two screaming commanders.  Both shouted out their cases, sure that the other side was responsible for the king’s death.  They were equally sure that the princess was the other side’s pawn. 

“I think the Dark Overlord was responsible.  He had her captured and sent off somewhere,” Merideth squeaked. Both Lorraine and Nick rounded on her.

“It is simply not possible that you bought into that harlot’s incessant rambling.   You’re smarter than that, dear sister.  The Dark Overlord is dead,” yelled Lorraine. 

“That’s one thing we can agree on,” Nick said, though it would have been better for him to have kept his mouth shut.  Speaking up only reminded Lorraine that he was there.  She turned back for another verbal sparring match with him. 

“Julia’s rambling?” I asked.

Lorraine inhaled very sharply, turning to face me.  “Our princess, Julia Angela Claudia Carrington Ewing Gioberti Napa Ewing, is a Zealot.  She may have, on an occasion or two, mentioned her belief that the Dark Overlord was soon going to rise again.”

Nick also rounded on me.  “She believed she saw the shooting star that foretold Grebthar’s rebirth.  She expected to see the Dark Overlord, rising out of the Tomb of Shadows, and the mayor returning from his long absence.”

“Do not address our princess by her first name again,” growled Robin.  I glanced about.  All five adventurers were glaring at me.  This argument was an in-family dispute if I’d ever seen one. 

“Well, what do you expect from a man with a fake sword made by ‘Grebthar’?” yelled Nick, eying me.  “That’s right.  We saw the sword.  Nice weapon, by the way.  I wonder if its maker’s mark would stand up to any real scrutiny.”

I hadn’t considered that.  I’d made a few things.  Of course, they had maker’s marks on them.  Trains by Jim were hot commodities.  I slid my sword from the scabbard and examined it, using my Smithing skill.  The maker’s mark showed who had crafted the item.  In cases where multiple crafters were involved, everyone's maker’s mark would show up. 

HankAlvin had crafted the sword, and Grebthar himself had laid out the enchantments on the blade.  That meant Grebthar’s sword had two makers marks on it.  Any of the maker’s could name the item if they chose, so Grebthar had changed the name from HankAlvin’s choice of Longsword #42 to Grebthar’s Sword.  I was certain that there was a Forgery skill that would allow someone to put a fake maker’s mark on a weapon.  That's what Nick was expecting. 

“Well, you seem to be the expert,” I said, tossing the weapon to Nick.  His grab was awkward, as he was in the middle of my chain of prisoners.  With his hands bound as they were, he couldn’t wield it effectively, but it allowed him to scrutinize the weapon.  He glared at it. 

After a long moment, he ground out, “It's a good forgery.”  I activated Flash Steps, materializing in front of him, my hand extended.  He frowned but handed the weapon back.  “Flash Steps, like that’s very impressive.  You have a mobility build.”

“I was pretty mobile, wasn’t I, Lorraine?” I asked, cutting her off before her mouth could continue to form a word.  She frowned. 

“If you aren’t trying to collect bounties on our heads, why are you walking around fighting other adventurers?” she asked.

“I’ve got a quest to save the princess,” I said, bringing up my quest log and showing them the active quest.  Nick and Lorraine grew quiet.

“It's a trick,” stated Robin.  “The princess died, right after she killed her father.”

“Maybe someone kidnapped her,” suggested Merideth.

“Right after she murdered her father?” scoffed Lorraine.

“Are we sure she did that?” asked Jerry, after a long moment.  “I mean, it seemed so out of character for her.”  There was another, more uncomfortable silence.  Jerry was, at the very least, willing to consider what I’d said.  The lull in conversation extended for a moment, so I continued. 

“I don’t think she did.  I fought with Hardragon back in Union.  He had a Shadow Assassin with him. I figure she assumed the shape of Julia and then killed the king,” I stated casually. 

Lorraine looked at me in shock, before she began to laugh.  “You fought with Hardragon?  And he didn’t kill you?”

“Neither did you,” I replied.  Nick barked out a laugh.

“Jim’s Health bar didn’t move very much, and he has a War Badger,” stated Merideth.  She appeared to be thinking very hard.  “Nope, I still don’t see you winning that fight.”

“Well, he did smash me through the Temple of Rogers.  I’m better equipped now, though.  I’d like a rematch,” I said.  Lorraine was bubbling with laughter.  She turned toward Nick, who was, likewise, laughing.  The only one that was silent was Robin.

“A battle between adventurers destroyed the Temple of Rogers in Union yesterday,” said Robin.  “Hardragon was spotted.  He had to use his Shout to defeat the other adventurer.  That’s what smashed the temple.” 

“Hardragon’s on cooldown?” asked Lorraine, her eyebrows narrowing in thought. 

Nick appeared to have been silenced, too.  I enjoyed the quiet, as we walked on.  The roads were becoming slightly broader, as we moved toward the more settled lands.  By now, the massive fields of grapes had given way to more areas full of grapes, along with fruits of many other varieties. That assumed that grapes were fruit, and you wanted what seemed like 500 kinds of grapes. 

“Wine drinkers,” I said to Badgelor, shaking my head. 

“Yup, people have been calling them that before I ever came here,” stated the badger before his ears started wiggling. I listened for a moment but whatever Badgelor had heard was still out of my range, not that it mattered.  Badgelor’s back began to quiver slightly as the anticipated break approached. 

“Your messengers use horses,” I said conversationally.  Lorraine grunted.

“Of course, they do,” she growled.  She was upset, but that seemed to be pretty standard for her.  She spent several odd moments looking at me, then looked away.  Glancing at the rest of the group, my gut told me I had them right where I wanted them.       

“Well, I’m off to save the princess,” I replied casually, hopping back onto Badgelor. “I’ll probably fight evils and right wrongs, as well.  Maybe you should start doing that, instead of fighting pointless wars.”

Lorraine shook her head, “Look, Fake Grebthar, you can preach all you want about the olden days, but your notion of what an adventurer should be doing is outdated.  There are no more heroes, just adventurers trying to get by.”

I shrugged and released the rope.  “I don’t see it that way.  You are all free to go.”

“What?” asked Nick, stopping to look at me intently.

“I said ‘You are free to go.’  This little march was fun, but it's over,” I replied, opening up my dimensional storage.  I began to unceremoniously drop all of the adventurers’ equipment at Badgelor’s feet, including Jerry’s bracers.  They were all staring at each other, as I started off the side of the road.  As I did so, I gestured to their unit commanders to come forward.  “I’m going this way.  Feel free to find me again when you need to.”

“What’s stopping us from hunting you down?” yelled Robin.

“You and what army?” I chuckled.

“That army,” gesticulated Robin to his men.

Badgelor’s head spun around, both eyes glowing purple.  The half dozen soldiers who were marching forward stopped dead.  “The pool’s open, and the water’s fine.”  My War Leader talent was showing me that multiple units, mainly Jerry’s, were already near breaking at the thought of engaging a War Badger.

One of the few advantages of having the Grebtharian religion as your culture’s touchstone was that there were plenty of stories.  A lot of those stories centered around fools who ignored men riding badgers.  With how uncommon War Badgers were these days, it would have been like ordering men to kill the donkey that brought Mary to Bethlehem.  None of the soldiers were willing to just up and attack a War Badger.  Additionally, Jerry’s men had been circulating tales of Badgelor’s near invincibility. 

“We’ll form a party and come after you,” yelled Robin, as I continued walking away.  I could see the faces of his companions and quickly gathered what they thought of that idea.  Jerry’s eyes were like dinner plates.  Lorraine and Nick were, at least, considering it.  However, their eyes told me that they thought it was a bad idea.  Merideth was a definite no.  Her mental calculations quickly led her to believe doing so would hurt.  It would probably hurt a lot.  In short, I wasn’t in the least bit concerned that they would be following me, at least not to attack me.

I waved at Jerry and continued into the woods.  My path was cut off, however, as a frothing horse came running out of the road through the forest.  When its rider saw Lorraine, he screamed, “Lady Wells.” 

“What are you doing?” asked Shart.

“Letting them figure out how screwed they are,” I said, looking around.  “What is the over-under, Badgelor?”

“Five minutes,” stated the badger, shrinking down to shoulder-riding size and plopping down on a stump to wait. 

“I take under,” Shart cried.  “As dumb as humans are, it still won’t take this group long.” 

I pulled out the vial of white liquid I’d stolen off Lorraine.  I was fairly certain it was a backup potion of whatever she’d used to beef herself up.  Popping the cork, I inhaled sharply.

●   Potion of Divine Strength.  This potion elevates a human's power to a higher tier race, “Super Human,” for five minutes.  After drinking the potion, it will take 1 minute before it becomes fully effective.  All stats increased by + 2.

“Nice,” I grinned.  “Shart, what is this made of?”  I had the Alchemy skill, but this potion was over my skill level.  I might have been able to determine the recipe, had I been at an Alchemy Lab.  Shart, on the other hand, could just review the metadata.

“Impressive, Dum Dum,” responded the demon.  He whistled before adding, “Most of the ingredients are rare.  Some are very rare.”

“How much do you think it would sell for?” I asked, shaking the potion and examining the ingredients list Shart provided.  It used honey as a base, which was about the only ingredient I had with me.  Nearly every potion required at least a little of it.  I saw that I could substitute healroot for a few ingredients, but it required Divine Ichor and several specific roots, like Lotus Flower.

“In Falcon, that’s a cool ninety gold potion,” answered Shart.  “Of course, the further you get away from the city, the more it sells for.  Divine Ichor doesn’t occur naturally on Ordinal.  You need a Cleric or Zealot to craft it.”

“Don’t suppose you can just grab some Divine Ichor from Limbo?” I asked.  Shart groaned, while Badgelor chuckled. 

“What are they doing?” I muttered.

“I think they are still arguing,” stated Badgelor, totally disinterested.  He had found a sunbeam and some moss.  He was resting on his back, trying to see if his tummy functioned as a solar panel.  The results were mixed. 

I brought up my Mana Control skill and cast Heightened Senses.  Now that I had proper Mana Sight through my Heightened Senses, I wanted to see just how Divine spells worked.  I focused on using my Holy Smite attack and watched my Mana.  Not much happened, as far as I could tell.  None of my Cores engaged, not that I even had a Divine Core. 

Finally, I intoned, “I shall smite thee.”

Instantly, the magic seemed to spring out of me, wrapping around my words and slamming into my sword.  It glowed white for a long moment, more than enough for me to make an attack.  When I didn’t strike, the magic dissipated, flowing back into me. 

I repeated the process, speaking slowly.  Each word I said gathered magic into it, until the spell activated.  What surprised me was that each word didn’t gain the same amount of magic.  “I” and “Shall” gained virtually nothing, while “Smite” took in the lion’s share, and “Thee” caught a substantial bit of power. 

I tried several other spells.  My Hammerspace spell was activated with the phrase, “Ranma, no Baka.”  The spell only gathered energy on the “no Baka” portion.  When you said the first word, be it “Ranma”, “Rock”, or anything else inanimate, nothing magical happened.  Using Mystical Lore, I determined that the first word in a spell was the target.  The rest was the spell. 

“You should probably check to see if there are specific prayers for Logan,” said Shart, as I continued saying, ‘I shall smite thee,’ over and over again.

I didn’t ask the stupid question.  Of course, each religion would have specific prayers.  Activating my Religion skill, I found Logan-specific versions of most of my spells. 

“I shall smite thee” was replaced with “Snick, Snick, Bub.”  The Heal Damage prayer was, “You’re still alive, Bub.”  Every single prayer ended in “Bub.” 

“Wow, that is a thing,” I decided, trying out several spells.

When I got to Holy Blast, I noticed something interesting.  There was not a Logan- specific variant of that spell.  I just concentrated and said “Bub,” which caused a blast of Holy energy to shoot from my hands.  The cost of 7 Mana was minimal.  Of course, it only did about 15 Damage, but it was a quick cast. 

I pointed my palm at a nearby tree and said, “Bub,” five times in a row.  Each spell cost 7 Mana, and I could cast them as quickly as I could say, “Bub.”

“That’s different,” I said to Shart.  “These don’t have a Magical cooldown like Arcane spells.”

“That is an accurate statement,” replied the demon.  “Did you think all magic behaved the same?” 

“Nope,” I stated and cast Holy Blast several more times in quick succession.  It was like a magical machine gun.  My Holy Blast functioned as a weak, barely useful, magic machine gun.  Neat.  “Are they done talking yet?”  

“Several of them have moved out of Merideth’s Secrecy Aura,” stated Shart.  She had a passive effect that made people outside the radius of her effect have trouble understanding the conversation around her.  Shart could see if people were under its effects.  Up to a few moments ago, everyone in their little party was. 

I peered through the bushes.  “Jerry is coming.  Only took him four minutes.”

“Doesn’t count until he gets here,” stated Badgelor, who had taken over in his little bet with Shart.

Before I could say another word, Badgelor expanded to his Ultimate form.  I leapt onto his back and looked off into the distance.  I hoped it appeared that I was checking my menus but in a glorious manner.

“Just him?” I asked, after I heard a loud thud.  “Did he just -”

“Yup, he just tripped over a root,” stated Shart.  Jerry had been running after us, so I supposed it was possible he just mis-stepped.  Possibly. 

“Are you sure you shouldn’t have scared him off and kept the girl?” asked Badgelor.

“She seemed somewhat smarter,” I said, but I had my doubts.  Jerry seemed the right combination of brave and stupid.  After dealing with Sir Dalton, I had a pretty good idea how to handle brave and stupid.  I waited patiently for another minute.  Jerry pulled himself up and then walked right past us.

“Damn it,” I said as five minutes expired. 

“Damn it,” Shart repeated.  “I just lost that bet.”

Badgelor chuckled.  “Never underestimate human incompetence.  They really are the worst.”

“The absolute worst,” agreed Shart.  “Why do we hang around them again?”

“For laughs?” suggested my furry butt wart.  Badgelor glanced after Jerry, before turning serious again.  “He’s nervous.”  We watched as Jerry stumbled again.  “He must be great in combat.”

“Hush, he’s just frantically looking for help at the moment.  He isn’t paying any attention,” I replied. 

“We are in a sunbeam,” stated Badgelor, still holding his posture.  Posing majestically, Badgelor looked fierce, and I thought I looked wise.  We were a pair right out of a storybook.  We were the white knights, coming out of the sun just when people needed us the most.

Jerry finally yelled, “Jim! We need your help.”

“I’m behind you,” I said, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice.  Jerry spun around, spotting us.  From his new vantage point, there was a tree and a bush in the way.  All he could see was part of my head and Badgelor’s tail. 

“Oh, you were taking a dump,” he said.  Apparently, my exasperated face and my dropping-a-deuce face were similar.  Good to know. 

“Nope, just standing here,” I ground out. 

Jerry rushed through the bush, tripped again, and landed in the only mud puddle in the area.  Globs of mud flew toward us. like a claymore mine.  Several splattered over my clean armor.  One large chunk flew right into Badgelor’s nose.

An instant later, Badgelor sneezed in a most unheroic fashion.  The sudden bucking motion caused me to fall off my steed and land in a heap, directly in front of Jerry.  I got to my feet an instant before he managed to look up.  Badgelor had turned away to paw at his nose desperately.  Shart was, as usual, laughing hysterically.

“Did he just sneeze?” asked Jerry.

“No, that is an ancient War Badger Battle Cry,” I replied evenly.  “Badgelor senses trouble.”

Jerry paused, turning to face Badgelor in wonder.  “Amazing.  So, he knows that someone is attacking Lorraine’s estate?”

“We suspected it,” I nodded sagely, which was true.  Simply put, if the undead started attacking the nearby towns, as Shart had said, the villagers would logically reach out to their military to defend them.  Based on that, I had just gathered up a large enough army to deal with my worst-case undead projections and started marching them back home. 

“Lorraine was wondering if you might come with us and aid us in our fight against the undead.”

“Of course,” I replied, “That’s what adventurers do.”

Chapter 44 – Undead Horde vs. the Army of the North

“You need to get a horse,” stated Badgelor, as we continued riding to the northeast with our group of small armies.  There was a group of armies, because no one in the hastily formed party had enough ranks in War Leader to control all these troops at the same time.  I, of course, did, but nobody knew that yet. 

Back in Windfall, all I ever had to worry about was one man equaling one Command Point.  I’d eventually had sergeants that allowed me to use less command to get the same number of soldiers into battle.  That effectively had increased the number of men I could deploy.  Eventually, we hit a point where we had enough sergeants that I stopped thinking about the troops' quantity and started to work on quality.

That was not the case here.  In the entire group, only Lorraine and Nick had War Leader, but neither of them had advanced beyond the first rank.  Battles with little to no risk didn’t give out many Skill Points. 

Lorraine’s army of 300 troops had one lieutenant and eight sergeants.  She didn’t have a single large unit. She had a medium-sized unit with a bunch of reserve soldiers.  Her entire force would have required a command of over 183.  However, she could deploy 130 of those men, using only 13 Command Points out of her total of 20.  Her force looked impressive enough.  On the whole, Lorraine’s unit was better equipped than my Dashing Dandies, sigh, but they were not a well-led military unit. 

“Zorlando would hate this,” I muttered.

“Which one is he again?” asked Shart.

“Ashe’s boyfriend,” replied Badgelor.

“Not ringing any bells,” said Shart.

“The one who would climb up the balcony when Jim was away and wrestle with the maid on Jim’s bed,” stated Badgelor.

“Dude,” I replied, disgusted, “Don’t let people do that!”

“In my defense, she bribed me,” stated Badgelor innocently.

“Oh, the guy who was doing all that weird stuff to Ashe.  I remember him!” stated Shart.

“Wait, you don’t remember anyone’s names.  How do you remember Ashe?” I asked.

“She’s always drawing knives on you.  It's hilarious,” stated Shart.  “Plus, I caught her and what’s his face having sex in your workshop once.”

“Really?” I groaned.  “Any place you two haven’t caught them having sex?”

Badgelor paused for a minute.  “Um, I don’t think they’ve done it in the Town Hall.”

“I think he means in the house,” replied Shart.

“They did it everywhere in that house,” stated Badgelor confidently.  “Everywhere.” 

On Earth, I’d had a vein over my eyebrow that would occasionally twitch when one of my kids did something particularly stupid.  That, at least, had followed me to Ordinal. 

“He’s acting weird again,” groaned Shart.

“Jim, do you want to see if I can make Robin crap himself?” asked Badgelor.

“Again?” questioned Shart.  “I can’t see you pulling that off twice in a row.” 

“Is that another bet?” asked Badgelor, chuckling slightly.  Shart had lost the last one. 

“Focus,” I snapped.  “Shart, is there anything in your bag of tricks that would help me here?”

“Not from my current position,” stated Shart.  “Now would be a good time to cut and run. We can probably make it to the temple while the undead are busy slaughtering everyone.”

“You should be high enough rank to give out brevet promotions,” stated Badgelor.  “They are more expensive than just training sergeants, but sometimes that’s what you need to do.”

After the last series of battles against the trolls, my War Leader talent was up to Rank 5.  Also, Shart’s bonus to my War Leader allowed me to gain Command Points at a faster rate.    That gave me a command limit of 75, which was all sorts of interesting.  I was now officially a high enough rank to lead an army. 

“Why do I still have my War Leader talent?” I asked Shart, as I looked through my talent trees.

“Because I modified the Founder’s perk you got from resettling Windfall into a Warlord perk.  You’ll always have that, even if you leave the town,” stated Shart.  I understood that, at least in the context that Shart had done funky demonic stuff to me.

●   War Leader, Command 75.  Rank 5, Base 30, Enhanced Command 1 +10, Enhanced Command 2 +10, Demonic Infusion +50%. 

I considered my talent.  During my time as commander of the Dashing Dandies, I had taken two ranks of Enhanced Command to expand my Command Limit because gaining ranks in War Leader did very little to increase your limit.  I had also taken the Rallying Cry talent and Army of One.  Those were active talents that let me better shape the battle I was fighting. 

War Leader was a talent tree, but, unlike Duelist, where you earned one Talent Point every level, you gained War Leader experience.  You could use that to buy more talents, because why would Ordinal be consistent with anything?  I still had points left, so I found the Undead Fighter talent and chose it. 

I instantly knew quite a bit more about fighting the undead.  Some of the information was very counterintuitive.  For example, the undead didn’t particularly care about defenses, as long as there were living people to eat.  Filing that away for later, I tried to find something else useful. I quickly found what I was looking for, Brevet Promotions.  That talent allowed me to upgrade troops, just like the pesky badger had said. 

“So, brevet up a bunch of the experienced units to sergeants,” I said, reading through the tooltip.  They cost 2 Command each, but each could control ten other soldiers.  That meant I could spend 2 command points to get eleven soldiers, which was a decent value.  I could also brevet a trained sergeant into a lieutenant.  It cost 10 Command and netted me an additional forty soldiers.  Neither brevet ranks granted the other benefits of being an officer, so I was leery of making lieutenants. 

In any case, it was all academic.  I was not in command of this ragtag force.  I discovered that Lorraine hadn’t even wanted me back, but Merideth had put her foot down.  Apparently, Merideth had some pull with her big sister.  That left me in a dubious spot at the moment.

I glanced at the sun’s position.  I still had until tomorrow evening, plenty of time before the moon was in position.  I had time to save these people and, hopefully, put the local armies to better use than just attacking everyone for shits and giggles. 

Presently, the commanders of this great force were at the head of the column, rapidly discussing the current state of affairs.  My Perception skill was active, and I was listening in with half an ear.  Nick, whose War Leader rank was almost to rank 2, wanted to take command from Lorraine, who’s War Leader talent was only halfway to 2.  His Command Limit was 25, because he’d purchased a talent.  That five point difference represented all he needed to make argument after argument toward Lorraine. 

“Sire,” came a voice, and I looked down to see one of Jerry’s lieutenants walking next to me.  He was holding a spear, and I groaned inwardly. 

I nodded at him, and he relaxed slightly.  “You were using Army of One, were you not?”

I nodded again, and he continued more confidently, “That’s at least a Rank 3 talent.  Am I to assume you have commanded an army in combat before?”

“Yes, many times,” I said.  “Normally versus trolls and goblins, though.”

He paled.  “Trolls have been coming down from the mountains to the north.  We’ve been shoving them up against the wall to Grebthar's Lands.”

“I’ve heard of Grebthar's Lands before.  What do you think of them?” I asked curiously.  Grebthar's Lands was what they called Windfall Valley.  I’d heard hushed whispers about the place before, but I was curious what the regular people thought of the area. 

“Oh, it's west of Falcon Gate.  One of the old kings forbade us to go there, out of deference to Grebthar.  I’ve heard that healroot grows for days around there, and that there are Progenitor relics hidden around.  I’ve even heard a tale about how Windfall used to have a barrier,” he said.

“A barrier?” I asked.

“A Progenitor relic from the distant past.  Only the capitals of TimSimons and HarCharles still have working ones,” replied the soldier.

“I’m surprised that there isn’t one in Falcon’s capital,” I said.

“Technically, Windfall is our capital.  It's just that we don’t ever go there.  The Vineyards is the temporary capital.  Has been my whole life,” he said, chuckling. 

“Your grandfather’s life, as well,’ I said.

“And his grandfather’s, also,” continued the soldier, openly grinning. 

“Thanks for the history lesson.  I’ve only ever heard it called Windfall Valley before,” I said.

“I believe that's what foreigners call it,” he replied pompously, before realizing who he’d just spoken to.  He coughed into his hand.   We walked a moment in silence, as he tried to decide whether or not I was offended. 

“Have those two fought in any real battles?” I asked, indicating Nick and Lorraine.  It sounded like their conversation was becoming more heated.  “Against trolls or anything?”

The soldier said nothing, but my Sense Motive skill was firing.  He was embarrassed but unwilling to speak ill of his commanders.

“I suppose I could talk to them,” I said, looking down at the man.  He sagged visibly.

“The troops would appreciate it, sire,” said the old soldier.  “They are good kids.  It is just…”

“I understand.  Let's go,” I said to Badgelor, and we started marching forward.  Robin made to interdict me, with no success.  Once his horse figured out who was coming, it got out of the way, despite his rider’s efforts.

“Someone has a low Ride skill,” I chuckled.

“Mount is of sufficient quality,” said Badgelor, as we walked past.  “It's wasted on him, though.  Maybe you could take it?”  I glanced over at Badgelor.  He had remembered he didn’t like anyone riding him very quickly, which left us in a bit of a pickle.  Riding got you places much faster than walking. 

“I’ll figure something out,” I said, and Badgelor grumbled.  We crossed the threshold to where the commanders’ lively debate continued.  They weren’t quite at the swear-in-the-other-one’s-face portion of the discussion, but it was close.  Lorraine reached for her sword twice, as Nick called her a fool and a simpleton.   

“Have you figured out which one of you is in charge?” I confidently asked, as I rode up. 

“We are going in as two units, if you must know,” said Lorraine fiercely.  “I would not wish to sully my hands with his inept command.” 

“I was explaining that my War Leader talent, Commander in Chief, grants me a +15 Command Limit, but only when I’m in charge of the entire army,” stated Nick, nearly pouting.  “If I’m not leading the army, my Command drops to 10.”

“Oh, that is tiny!  Did you take any talents that help your army fight?” I asked.

He frowned.  That was a no.  It looked like Nick had just been expanding his Command Limit.  Lorraine spun around on me.  “My army is bigger.  I should be in charge.”

“That makes as much sense as anything else,” I replied with a smile.  “Did your report say how many undead were out there?”

Lorraine hesitated, but Nick spoke up, “There are at least 600 of them, if you believe her scouting report, which I don’t.”  Nick was full of that particular kind of helpfulness where you undercut your teammate whenever possible.  This battle was going to be fun.

“What are you going to do to the enemy, a pincer movement?” I suggested helpfully.  My voice was dripping with sweetness. 

“Perhaps.  That would explain the separate units,” said Lorraine, as she tried to reconcile her position mentally.  A pincer movement was a decent strategy for a well-led army against living beings.  It was not ideal with the leadership she had versus the enemy she faced.  With undead, one solid unit would be better.  It would keep the men close and the morale high.  She walked on for a moment, before rounding on me again.  “Not that any of this matters to you.  Frankly, I’m not even sure we need you.

“No worries, and my name isn’t Frank Lee,” I said. 

She frowned but sighed, “Okay, that was a decent Grebthar joke.”

“Badgelor?” I asked.  He chuckled.

“Charles called them Dad Jokes, before he went crazy,” stated the badger.  I understood that, at least. 

“Which one of you wants me?” I asked, finally getting ready to offer my recruitment speech.  Lorraine sneered at me, and Nick just shrugged.

“Honestly, Chap, I don’t think you will be necessary here,” he said.

“No worries, I have the Army of One talent.  I’ll just follow you guys in and smash up a unit or two of undead,” I said, slowing down slightly. 

Lorraine was a bit quicker on the uptake than Nick.  “Jerry mentioned that you were just barreling through his army.  I didn’t realize you were a War Leader.  We could use your Command Limit in my army.  I could appoint you Second in Command.” 

Second in Command was a unique position that allowed you to take command if the primary commander fell in battle.  However, from Lorraine’s perspective, the actual benefit was greater.  A Second added their Command Limit into the commander’s for their army.  Even at War Leader one, someone would add in 10 Command, which was better than nothing.  

“What about Merideth?” I asked.

“She never bothered with the War Leader talent.  She has a lieutenant with her,” Lorraine said, gesturing toward a very well-equipped man.  He was diligently watching over his charge.

“She just didn’t want to pay for a skill book,” stated Robin.  Lorraine frowned slightly at that.  No one wanted to admit that they had learned War Leader from a book, especially if they hadn’t ever really used the talent before. 

“I’m sorry we are more sophisticated than you simple easterners,” grumbled Nick, before realizing he could also use my Command Limit.

Nick opened his mouth to give something that might have been an apology, but I just nodded at them.  “Invite away.”

Both Lorraine and Nick sent me an invite within seconds.  The <system> automatically rejected both.  My War Leader rank was at least 2 ranks higher than either of theirs. 

“Army of One requires you to be at rank 3,” I said to the two puzzled commanders.  Lorraine swallowed.  Jerry had told her, exhaustively, about my battle with him.  Lorraine heard him but didn’t realize what it meant.   

Nick cast a glance her way, but she shook her head.  “We will be happy to have your assistance.  Maybe as a friendly army, but I think we will be keeping control over our own forces.”

“Excellent, I’ll just find the biggest thing on the field and smash it then,” I said, smiling at them both.  “We can do this easily!”

Chapter 45 - Doomed

“There is no way we can do this,” stated Nick, in a moment of sheer panic.  There were hundreds of undead attacking Lorraine’s estate, Maison Fleurie.  Her two remaining sisters and the household troops were desperately trying to keep the enemy at bay.  Her place looked like some sort of French country estate, minus the horde of undead.  Luckily, her family had possessed the good sense to build up some walls to defend the place.

Every outbuilding was destroyed.  The defenders inside were shooting out torrents of arrows at the undead.  I watched one zombie creature take a chest full of arrows and collapse.  If the humans inside could last a day or so, they might be able to break the army on the estate walls.  Given the equipment the enemy was bringing up, Lorraine’s sisters probably had about 15 minutes. 

Lorraine was glaring at Nick.  He had frozen up at the sight of the horde of undead.  There were at least a thousand of them, all coordinated and attacking like an army.  The living military was only a mob of 700 troopers, who had all just learned the difference between a job and an adventure. 

“So, do you want me to go attack the thing that looks like a giant, skeletal ram?” I asked, gesturing toward the construct.  “Or should I head over to the Necromancers?  They seem to be summoning more undead from your family graveyards.”

“Are you crazy?” asked Robin.  His unit, made up of heavy cavalry, looked very much like they were going to bolt at any moment. 

“No big deal.  I can take out the ram first, if you think that would help.  However, that will bring the enemies’ attention this way,” I said with a shrug. 

“Do you think we can fight this many?” asked Lorraine, trying to keep her spine straight in front of her soldiers. 

I made a show of looking back at her army.  “If properly led, I know this army could manage it.”

Merideth caught what I was implying.  “You don’t think we can lead our armies into this and win.”

“Honestly?” I asked, looking at Lorraine and Nick.  They both nodded.  “Not a chance.  You have a mob, not an army.  You don’t make war. You plan for vacations.  I could lead us to victory here, if you give me command.  On my own, I can do a lot of damage.  However, they are going to overwhelm your forces before I can defeat them myself.”

“What if we just leave?” asked Robin.  Nick wisely said nothing, while Lorraine glared.

“Are your estates north of here, by any chance?” I asked.

Both Nick and Robin nodded.

“You realize your own properties will probably be under attack soon.  Your smaller forces won’t even be able to deter them, not before they’ve sacked your family homes,” I said, watching the slow advance of the ram.  We had just a bit longer.

“So, we either give you command of our armies, or all our people eventually perish,” stated Robin.

“Well,” I said, looking down on him with all the gravitas I could muster, “You could have trained to be an adventurer and been able to defend your people.  However, you decided to spend your time fighting pointless play wars and getting captured instead.  My patience grows thin.  You cannot save your people.  I can.  Choose.”

Neither Lorraine nor Nick would meet my eyes.   

●       Lorraine has transferred command of the Armies of Calistoga to you.  Do you accept?  <Yes/No>

●       Nick has transferred command of the Armies of Sequoia to you.  Do you accept?  <Yes/No>

●       You have gathered sufficient units.  Would you like to reactivate the Army of Windfall?  <Yes/No>

I selected “Yes” on all prompts.  Instantly, the organizational chart for both armies merged into my expanded Windfall organizational chart.  Unfortunately, the Dashing Dandies were back in Windfall proper, so all I had to work with was the Falconian forces.  My Command shot up to 105.  I chose ‘merge,’ forming them into one large unit.  Then, I placed Lorraine and Nick in charge of their army segments. 

“I don’t have enough time,” I hissed at Shart, as I began selecting the most experienced soldiers and promoting them to sergeants. 

“Delegate to me,” stated Shart.  “I’m not up to full speed out here, but I don’t have to do everything manually, either.  What do you want?”

“Promote as many sergeants as you can from the existing experienced troops.  Give me as many men under direct command as possible.”

“Done,” stated Shart.  It had taken him only a few seconds to do what it would have taken me a quarter of an hour to accomplish.  “You had 44 Command in the existing officer infrastructure.  I put 440 troops under your control and left you with 61 Command.  The remaining 260 troops cost you an additional 52 Command, leaving you with 9 Command.”

“That’s better than I thought,” I said, reviewing Shart’s work.  The armies had more sergeants in the reserve forces than I initially believed.  That only served to further demonstrate how unqualified these adventurers were at leading.  Then, Shart coughed.  It was never good when Shart coughed. 

“You’ve only run with infantry before,” stated the demon.  “To activate a cavalry unit or the hospital unit you have, you are going to need to spend additional Command.”

“What?  Do I need to buy horses or something?” I asked.  I received no response.  Of course, I needed to buy the horses.  “How much?”

“Heavy cavalry normally costs 50 Command to activate.  The hospital unit will require another 60, because it includes multiple Acolytes.”

“And if I don’t have the Command to spend?” I asked, already guessing the answer.

“They won’t be able to receive any of your War Leader buffs.  That will drastically reduce their effectiveness,” stated Shart.  It was true; at rank 5, I granted an impressive +25% bonus to attacks and defense for my army.  That, coupled with my ability to use talents like Rallying Cry, meant that the army would be at a significant disadvantage, right when I needed them to be at their most potent. 

“So, I need an additional 110 Command, and I only have 9,” I said, grumbling.  On Ordinal, it was always something.  I could manage, though.  I always did.

The problem with Command was that it didn’t really increase very much through ranking up.  Every two ranks, your Command increased by 10, while also allowing you to appoint an additional officer.  If you wanted more than that, you needed to buy talents to improve your Command Limit.  Those got progressively more expensive.  The main problem was that you could only buy one Command talent per tier, and I had already bought Increased Command up to Rank 2.  The Rank 3 talent cost virtually all my remaining War Points. 

It didn’t make sense.  The higher your level, the harder it was to increase the size of your army.  Early ranks of the War Leader talent let you function as an improved sergeant, but higher ranks didn’t work the same way.  Then, it hit me.  The higher ranks of War Leader were for generals.  Most of the talents I could choose would improve the quality of the officers that served under me, rather than further enhancing myself. 

“I get what you are thinking,” stated Badgelor.  “There should be an option to add in another officer.  Add in Nick.  He has the War Leader talent.”

“What’s the point of that?  He’s only got a Command of 10, and I already had his Command included in my overall limit,” I responded.

“But now he’s an officer,” stated Badgelor.

“How does that help me?” I asked.  I’d had officers before, but, because the Dashing Dandies were competently commanded, I never paid too much attention to them.  Fenris and Zorlando had been the officers in charge.  The only exception was when Sir Dalton had been available and Zorlando had taken a back seat.  SueLeeta was the only one of my close allies that had never been an officer in Windfall’s army.  That was mainly due to her role as the scout leader.   

“Your officers improve, based on your War Leader rank,” stated Badgelor. 

●   Teaching General: Your ability to show your officers how to fight increases their War Leader Talent Points by 50% per battle.

●   Officers: Officers function as both leaders and followers.  At Rank 1, you can appoint a Second in Command.  At Rank 3, you can utilize your officer’s active commands.  At Rank 5, your officers in command of units are treated as independent leaders, gaining use of any army leadership perks they possess. 

I glanced at my officer list.  Presently, it only showed Zorlando, Lorraine, and Nick.  Because of his injury, Fenris was no longer actively serving.  However, I could add him back in when he recovered.  I found Zorlando’s “Form Up” Battle Cry listed in my available options. 

“Why is Zorlando still listed?” I asked.

“That’s an army table of organization.  At Rank 5, you can be in charge of an army significantly larger than your Command Limit.  You are just limited to your Command in the field,” stated Shart.  “Zorlando can lead the Dashing Dandies on his own and still gain the benefits of your War Leader talent, even with you all the way out here.”

“Well, that’s better,” I said.  Zorlando was currently listed as a Rank 3 War Leader, so I had just given the Dashing Dandies a nice boost.  “It leaves a weak point concerning the quality of my other officers, though.”

“Yes,” replied Badgelor, “But don’t you think it's time to teach these morons how to fight?”

I was about to refuse.  We didn’t have time, but something in the way he said it caused me to review my options.  There was a teaching path in the War Leader talent tree, and I couldn’t see most people investing the War Points into it. 

●   Teaching General: Your ability to show your officers how to fight increases their War Leader Talent Points by 50% per battle.

●   Teach Through Example: Your War Leader rank - 2 is the minimum effective rank of your officers. 

“Oh,” I grinned, selecting both.  Teaching General was simply the lowest rung on the ladder. I had to choose Teaching General to get to the talent I really needed, Teach Through Example.  I was positive there were more effective ways to gear up for this battle, but, with several adventurers in the group, this strategy cost the fewest of my War Leader points. 

With my War Leader at 5, Teach Through Example granted all my officers a minimum rank of 3.  The issue wasn’t so much that they were treated as having Rank 3, but they were also affected by my Demonical Infused Warlord perk.  That instantly increased their command by 50%.   

Nick and Lorraine had been Rank 1 War Leaders, which granted me a total of 30 Command between the two of them.  Now that they were considered Rank 3, they both saw an increase in Command of +10, bringing us up to 50.  With Nick as an officer, his talent activated.  That further increased his Command by +15, bringing the total to 65.  Finally, Shart’s Demonically enhanced Warlord perk granted my War Leader talent a 50% increase in Command, so that 65 became 97, a 67 point increase over the base value. 

I now had 76 Command Limit free.  I only needed 34 more.  Checking the unit Command menus, I found the rest of what I needed and used my last few War Points to buy them. 

●   Cavalry Commander 1: You are skilled in commanding cavalry.  Reduces the cost of activating a cavalry unit by 20. 

●   Special Forces Commander 1: You are skilled at commanding special units. You may reduce the Command cost of 1 special unit by 50%. 

That was enough.  By activating both of those talents, I reduced my army's cost to below my available Command Limit.  I considered for a moment.  It may have been a better choice to spend those points on improving my ability to command the men with active abilities.  Windfall didn’t even have a cavalry, and I was spending points on it.

“Oh, well, Badgelor did want a horse,” I sighed, finalizing my choices. 

●   Medium Infantry: 250, Army of Calistoga

●   Medium Infantry: 250, Army of Sequoia

●   Heavy Cavalry: 50, Robin’s Grizzly Bears

●   Medical Corp: 50, Merideth’s General Hospital

●   Light Infantry: 100, Woodleaf Brigade

“Prepare yourselves,” I stated, as the army behind me formed into actual ranks.  Nick inhaled sharply.  I hadn’t managed my old menu time speed, but I did transform the mob into an army. 

Chapter 46 – Battle for the Four Sisters

When hundreds of people march in unison, the ground shakes; the more precise the step, the more pronounced the shaking.  As we marched toward the undead, the early afternoon sun overhead, the creatures on the outskirts were the first to notice.  They were the newly undead, the least controlled by whoever controlled this army.  Assuming anyone controls this army at all.

A horde of undead surrounded the estate.  They looked like insects, as they attempted to scurry over the sides of the structure and into the manor.  It was quite apparent that, if not for the strong dissuasion that Lorraine’s two sisters and their troops were putting up, the zombies would have already invited themselves in for tea. 

Without much time to get the full measure of the terrain, I selected the angle of approach.  There was a short wall running down a nearby road, but it was angled incorrectly for our purposes.  The only suitable terrain I could see was a dry creek bed between us and the manor, just outside the estate’s bow range.  That meant I could get some support from the estate without having to worry about friendly fire. 

Just as we started crossing the field, the inner undead noticed us.  Dozens of them broke off, all feral and ghoul-like, and began the long run toward our front line.  Our shields formed and spears readied, as the handful of undead closed.  Before they even reached our line, Merideth blasted several with a Holy Blast.  A few collapsed, but the rest continued charging right into the spear wall. 

Against a few scattered men, they might have accomplished something.  However, they found a wall.  Our spears pierced their soft flesh, pressing them down.  Men formed around them, hacking the undead apart with their short swords. 

“Finish cleaning that up.  Then, get your line back into position,” I sent to Jerry, using Battlefield Communication.  None of them had any ranged communication abilities, nor had they expected them.  Jerry’s eyes widened at the realization of what that level of command and control meant. 

“Yes, sir,” he responded promptly, redressing his line and double marching it to catch up.  I examined the Battle Map and decided he would be close enough to the front when we engaged the larger group of enemies.

“They seem to be ignoring us,” commented Nick.

“Not for much longer,” I replied, comparing the top-down map with where I wanted our soldiers.  I selected the areas and sent the commands to Nick and Lorraine.  She had already been attempting to get her forces lined up, based on my earlier projections.  It seemed she hadn’t fully considered the terrain, though, despite it being her property. 

The Army of Calistoga moved quickly, finding the slight depression of the creek and setting themselves on the bank's close side.  That slight depression would cause the undead a bit more trouble closing with us.  Anything I could manage to help us or hinder them was worthwhile. 

Meanwhile, I was at the head of the army, riding Badgelor.  I was in plain view of God and everyone, including zombies.  The forces inside the manner could see me, as well.  That, combined with the army at my back, was bound to stiffen up their spines a little.

In real life, a general leading from the front was an idiot.  The enemy would pepper such a general with ranged attacks, and that moron would be the primary target of the enemy’s first charge.  On Ordinal, I was, at least, safe from ranged attacks. 

I glanced at our forces and noticed that Robin and his heavy cavalry, the Grizzly Bears, were too far forward.  He was growing impatient.  I opened up a link to him.

“Robin, I don’t like these feral ghouls,” I said without preamble.  “Watch for them and ensure they do not get to our flanks.”

“What if they don’t engage?” he responded, his earlier acidity somewhat mollified. 

“If they don’t, then they aren’t being commanded at all.  If these ghouls don’t present themselves, feel free to swing around and hit one of the flanks.  Just don’t get mired in.  I need you mobile if there are problems or targets of opportunity,” I stated.

He would get mired down at some point, but his unit was entirely heavy cavalry.  I wasn’t overly concerned about them.  They could give a fair accounting of themselves. 

“The ram is almost in position,” stated Lorraine, watching furtively as her sisters attempted to stop the massive thing from getting to their front gate.  Everything from crossbow bolts to Holy energy was raining down on that ram, with little effect. 

“Range,” growled Badgelor, his eyes glowing purple. 

“Let's see how Damage Resistant that ram is,” I said, as I started pouring Mana into Badgelor.  In truth, I was curious how much Damage the ram could withstand.  While there were undead of various sizes all over the battlefield, the ram was the largest undead out here.  It was clearly an undead construct of some sort. 

●   Skeletal Ram:

●   HP: 537/600

●   Stamina: 113/180

As Badgelor’s eyes glowed brighter, more and more of the undead seemed to realize we were a relief force.  They started forming their own ranks.  Their large formations seemed adequate, though they were less dressed than my own.  I caught sight of at least two spellcasters in their ranks.  They were trying to hold off the Holy Blasts. 

The size of my badger was a problem for them.  The undead ranks would have stopped a ground-based force from getting close to the ram, but my huge badger’s Destructive Gaze fired directly over their heads.  As the blast struck, two Shadow barriers sprang up.  For an instant, two higher tier magics contested each other.

Then, I got an idea.  I hadn’t tapped out my Mana, so I extended my palm, yelled out “Bub,” and just kept yelling.  A Holy Blast accentuated each syllable and smashed into the magical barriers.  Merideth saw what I was doing and fired off a far more blistering version of a Holy Blast.   Every bit helped, and the barrier shattered under our onslaught. 

As it penetrated, Badgelor’s beam fragmented.  It blasted through the barrier’s shards into thousands of thinner beams.  One of the undead casters stumbled backward, its body riddled with holes.  Also, it was on fire.  The Skeletal Ram got the worst of it, though.  Instead of a focused beam, the creature's entire side had been punctured with tiny holes and lit on fire.  I wasn’t sure if undead could feel pain, but then the ram screamed.  I smiled. 

“I’m fecking blind,” growled Badgelor.

“It heals in six seconds,” I chuckled, patting him on the side. 

“I still don’t see their commander,” stated Shart.

“Any chance it's the Dungeon Master at the ruined temple?” I asked.

“Doubtful, I’d be getting a data stream if that were the case,” stated the demon.

Nick was yelling something about Sequoia's deep roots, as the first of the undead got into javelin range.  The model Falcon soldier carried what amounted to a pilum, and they began flinging those weapons downrange at the charging undead.  A pilum was an oddly heavy spear designed to incapacitate a shield, which no one in the undead horde was using.  Of course, when one of those spears smashed through your rib cage and got stuck, the effect was the same.  The undead's ranks broke, as they started tumbling.  Those that fell were trampled by their fellows. 

Our heavy cavalry was already engaging a force on the Sequoian flank.  Feral ghouls attempted to outflank us, but they died against the horses.  Jerry’s force was fighting a similar battle on the other flank.  They were not enjoying the same success, though, until Merideth and a handful of truly heavy infantry moved to their aid.  Both adventurers managed to fend off the attack for the moment. 

“It's about time,” said Badgelor, as the undead reached the creek bed.  The Calistogan army had also begun throwing their pilums and had formed up to receive the charge.  Nick and Lorraine were safely nestled back with their forces.  Both had been instructed not to charge at the first moment of combat. 

“Rules for thee,” I thought to myself, as Badgelor and I held the center.  The first ranks of undead closed. 

As the undead charged us, I watched the morale of our army.  We’d started steady, but, as the massive horde came at us, we were trending down.  If that was a magical effect or just the result of hundreds of hostile, flesh-eating monsters coming at you, I couldn’t tell.  I could tell you that having a tank did improve morale.

We didn’t hold back.  Badgelor’s opening claw swipe ‘killed’ four undead outright.  It also sent a half dozen reeling backward.  Another swipe sent a half dozen more away in pieces.  Then, something larger leaped onto Badgelor’s back.

●   Mordros: Wight Captain

●   HP: 320/320

●   Stamina: 280/280

●   Mana: 40/40

●   A Wight Captain is a Wight that has undergone powerful binding rituals, making them a more powerful version of a Wight.  Victims killed by a Wight Captain rise up as a Wight under their control.  Their touch drains the life of their victims. 

Badgelor snapped at it.  The creature dug his hand into the badger’s furry back and held firm.  I didn’t know if the Wight realized what kind of fire it was playing with or not, but I wouldn’t waste an opportunity.

●   Powerful Smiting Hack and Slash:  Cost 30 Stamina, 40 Mana. 

My blade briefly glowed, as I slashed the Wight into burning chunks.  My Smite spell was perfectly suited to attacking undead.  It almost doubled the Damage of my strikes, which was enough to sever both the creature’s arms and cave in its left eye socket.  I kicked it off Badgelor, into the tangled mass of undead.

I still hadn’t fully recovered from my earlier blast, and that attack had dropped my Mana pool dangerously close to a Mana Crash. 

“Good work,” yelled Badgelor, flexing his shoulders.  The Wight had attempted a life drain, but Badgelor’s natural resistance to Magical Damage had rendered it almost ineffective.  What should have been a devastating blow had only resulted in a scratch. 

“Problems,” yelled Shart, as Badgelor continued laying into the rank and file undead. “There are more of those Wight Captains, and they are killing your soldiers.”

Victims killed by a Wight Captain rise up as a Wight under their control.

I spotted three more of the creatures.  Two were in the army of Sequoia. They hadn’t quite achieved the critical mass necessary to overwhelm that force, as Nick had rushed in.  He was battling with one, while his troops tried to hold back the other. 

Lorraine was fighting a third and holding her own, but only just. 

“Badgelor, smash,” I yelled out, leaping off the badger toward the creature that was on Nick.  I landed, shouldering my way through the ranks of troopers.  Nick was trying to hold his own, but I instantly realized his problem.  He was only at Journeyman in Swords.  His attacker was at least Expert. 

Thankfully, Nick had a couple of things working in his favor.  First, the quality of his armor was excellent; I was convinced it was the only real reason he was still alive.  Additionally, he was aided by one of his troopers, who threw himself bodily onto the Wight’s sword.  That forced the undead captain to take several moments to divest himself of the added weight. 

The creature was sneering at Nick.  I executed Flash Steps, appearing right next to the monster.  The Wight spotted me, as I executed Hack and Slash.  It responded with its own multi-strike attack.  I could manage five strikes to its four, but the old adage was “No kill like overkill.”  I spent the Stamina to activate Quick Cuts, boosting my total to eight. 

Unfortunately, I lacked the Mana to activate Smite for all my strikes.  Instead, I focused on removing its sword arm.  With my final strike, the shredded limb fell to the ground in a quivering pile.  The creature hissed, grabbing at me with its remaining, oversized hand. 

The Wight’s grip was nothing you ever wanted to experience, and I was without my Biological Aeromancy to resist it.  I felt my Stamina starting to drain and realized I would have to execute something impressive.  I didn’t, though.  The hand suddenly freed itself from the creature’s body.

Nick stood tall, blood streaming down his side.  His Felling Strike had removed the hand and lower leg from the Wight.  It was the Wight’s own fault.  It had been stupid enough to stand still in combat.  Even now, it was thrashing on the ground, black blood pouring from multiple wounds.  I grabbed Nick’s shoulder and cast Regenerate on him.

“Let's get the other one,” I stated, gesturing toward the other Wight.  For the barest moment, Nick stood frozen, looking down in horror at the creature he had felled.  I could read the look in his eyes.  He was realizing just how many of his men had died to give him that opportunity.  It was over in an instant.  He nodded sharply, and we both charged toward the remaining Wight. 

Nick only made it one pace. The trooper who had sacrificed himself to save Nick had already risen.  He was accompanied by a half-dozen other soldiers, all intact enough to fight.  They had not finished their transformations, but, with their captain dead, they were no longer smart enough to wait.  While not individually as strong as a captain, there were six.  They had created a hollow spot in the line that the rush of weaker undead was threatening to break through. 

I didn’t have time for any subtlety.  I launched myself into the air and activated one of my most devastating attacks. 

●   Powerful Smiting Unerring Falling Star Strike:   Damage: 120 to the primary target, 90 points to all targets within 3 logs, Cost: 1 Force, 12 Mana, 40 Stamina

The landing was rough.  There was a gory explosion that rippled outward from my point of impact.  As close to our line as I was, that would have been an issue without Unerring Strike.  It allowed me to use one of my three Force Points to hit exactly the way I wanted.  In this case, I turned my Falling Star Strike’s typically circular landing explosion into something more akin to a claymore facing the undead. 

With the lesser Wights suddenly wiped out, the remaining captain charged me.  Its strikes came in fast and hard.  I was forced onto the defensive, while I tried to regain my balance.  Nick moved to seal the gap in his line, leaving me by my lonesome with the creature. 

The problem was that it was slippery.  When you blasted a half-dozen Wights into paste, it left a gelatin-like substance everywhere.  Trying to get adequately balanced on that was tricky.  The Wight Captain did not have any issues with it, though, leading me to believe he had a perk or something. 

Grumbling, I activated my second big gun.  Throwing all my remaining Stamina into my fist, I punched the Wight with my One Punch perk.  My Stamina pool was still deep enough, and, the moment my fist impacted, the creature exploded.  Gooey zombie bits flew everywhere, covering me in more gore.  Then, the Stamina Crash hit me, and I fell on my butt. 

“Going all willy nilly on your heavy attacks,” commented Shart.

“Had.  To.  Plug.  The.  Line,” I gasped out, before activating Second Wind.  I quickly recovered 75% of my Stamina.  Shart was right, though.  I had rapidly gone through my inventory of potent attacks.  What bothered me most was the use of the Force Point.  I initially thought those replenished nightly, but I still hadn’t refilled them all since my fight with Charles.  I only had one Force Point remaining. 

“Form Line,” I yelled, activating Zorlando’s Form Up active power.  The gap in the line started to seal itself.  With crushing speed, the troops moved forward and began pushing back the undead.  While the ability granted them some extra fighting power, it mainly seemed to tell them right where to move.  All the soldiers got into their new positions almost instantly. 

While getting to my feet, I checked on Calistoga.  I found Lorraine was injured but alive.  Her army was also more intact than the Sequoia was.  The medical company was waiting in reserve, and Jerry’s forces seemed to be holding up.  They were on the periphery of the real fighting, so it would have been disconcerting to find them doing badly.   Of course, that left the heavy cavalry unit.  Robin and his men were mired down in the enemies’ rear area.  It wasn’t a bad tactic, but, from my RTS experience, I knew it wasn’t the best one.  Fortunately, they weren’t fully committed, yet.  I had a few seconds.

“Robin, what are you doing?” I gently asked.

“I’ve already smashed those ferals.  Now, I’m attacking a target of opportunity, the enemy rear,” he replied haughtily.

“Well, if that is the best target, good work.  I was hoping the ram would be put out of its misery and the Necromancers might be exposed,” I stated casually.

There was a pause, and I took the opportunity to rush forward, executing a Powerful Cleave into the front ranks of the undead.  Several shattered, and I pulled back into our ranks.  Our army advanced back up to the creek line.

“I’ve inflicted sufficient casualties here.  We will push toward the ram,” stated Robin.

“Excellent, we’ll polish up the enemy infantry and try to catch up,” I replied serenely.  Robin barked an affirmative, and I could see his unit breaking off in the Battle Map.

From our perspective, the battle was progressing well.  The medical unit was worth its weight in gold.  Ordinary people tended to stop fighting if their guts were spilling out, Hit Points be damned.  There was something about horrific injuries and coming to grips with your own mortality that I could, at least, comprehend.  A non-adventurer was much more likely to suffer a long-lasting, severe injury from a nasty wound or perish from internal injuries. 

It was difficult for this former Earthling to fully comprehend the differences between ordinary people and adventurers on Ordinal.  The easiest way was to think of adventurers like action movie heroes, while everyone else was, more or less, normal.  If I took 75% of my Hit Points as Damage, I’d grumble, get up, and march straight back into the fire.  Intelligent, non-adventurers were more likely to tuck their injured tail between their legs and avoid further injury. 

Access to Healing magic changed all that.  The ability to be mended by faster means than regular healers made ordinary men braver.  The medical unit was made up of thirty Acolytes, who could cast a few limited clerical spells, and twenty Crusaders.  Crusaders were heavily armored troops that carried the wounded back to the healers.  The trick was that they typically carried the wounded back from the thickest of the fighting, all while giving as good as they got.  It was a factory-like progression of wounded men being slotted into the healing lines. 

On one side of the healing field, the Crusaders placed the worst, crisis patients.  Without immediate attention, they were the ones who would perish.  Some had lost limbs, some had massive injuries to their abdomens, but all were going to die, unless they were treated quickly.  Half the medical unit was working on them, striving to prevent their deaths.

The other side of the line was for minor injuries, like a sword slash to the chest or burns from explosions.  With armor, such wounds wouldn’t be immediately fatal.  However, the soldier could perish from infection if not tended to by a healer.  Not in this army, though.  Here, the healers could cast Heal Damage and get those men back onto the field fairly quickly.  As most wounds were just Damage, gruesomely damaged soldiers would get carried in but walk out, ready for battle, in minutes.

The middle was the strange area.  There, people had multiple injuries that would normally prevent them from returning to battle.  However, their lives were not in immediate danger, so they weren’t a high priority for the Acolytes.  Those troops were where Merideth demonstrated the difference between an Acolyte and a high-level Cleric.  The Acolytes didn’t have enough raw power to fix multiple injuries per man in the middle area, but she did.  Instead of those soldiers getting tended to after the battle was over, Merideth easily fixed them and sent them back to the lines. 

With that approach, there had been almost no deaths, aside from the initial Wight attack. The overwhelming majority of wounded soldiers were filtered to the back area, healed, and sent back into formation.  After the better part of ten minutes of battle, we were only down around thirty men.  Meanwhile, the undead were down hundreds. 

This is the kind of unit I would have built for Jarra.

“Let’s move,” I announced to all my commanders.  “I can see daylight between the ranks of undead.  I would like to get to the other side of the creek now.”

“On your signal,” shouted Lorraine, already preparing her forces for the charge.

“I’m dealing with too many flankers,” replied Nick.  I glanced at the map.  While Jerry was screening his side of the line reasonably well, Nick’s flank was exposed.  Robin was off at the front, preparing to smash the ram. 

“Send fifty men from the newly healed to protect your flank.  I’ll have Badgelor hook right and make a pocket for you,” I replied. 

Nick acknowledged me, and I issued the orders on the Battle Map.  He broke off his rear rank, and they moved over to fully cover his flank.  Robin finally got into position to charge the still burning ram. 

I signaled and heard two Rallying cries.  “For the Sisters,” was shouted from Lorraine’s army, which rushed down the creek bank with only a few stumbles.  They immediately began pushing back the weakened ranks of undead.  The Sequoias screamed, “From the Heights,” as they rushed down the creek bed with considerably less caution.  A few soldiers stumbled, and the undead attempted to pounce.  They would have gotten away with it, too, if not for that meddling badger.

Badgelor didn’t understand what “Hook Right” meant, but he could interpret it.  I’d basically meant for him to charge forward and hook right.  Doing so would place him somewhere around the middle of the forces in front of Sequoia.   At least, he would be close.  When you are a two-thousand-pound badger, close is good enough. 

For someone less durable than Badgelor, what he actually did would have been suicide.  He waded into the enemy line, slashing out.  In turn, he received a pounding by all forms of undead.  They surrounded him, but he seemed unconcerned by that development.  Some undead even turned from our infantry to attack the badger.  It was their worst possible strategy.  Badgelor began to violently defend himself.

Our infantry followed right behind him.  The undead that had received commands to fight Badgelor found Nick’s spears at their backs.  The Sequoias ground forward, straight into the disrupted lines of undead.  Lorraine’s infantry pushed forward through sheer dint of will.  The undead began to lose cohesion, as we smashed them in ever-increasing numbers.

The undead attacking Badgelor turned from a flood into a trickle, as he resumed his point in the center of our armies.  We were now all pushing forward into the undead’s ranks.  Despite that, the undead horde was still operating somewhat as an army.  Suddenly, that coordination vanished.

I checked the map.  Robin was busy pounding on the few remaining undead outside Lorraine’s estate.  The other two sisters had marched out with some of the household guard.  They were assisting Nick in the grim task of smashing the last bits of attacking undead into stinking piles of meat.

At some point, they had either killed the enemy commander, or he had fled the field.  When he departed, the orderly formations of undead unraveled.  They turned into an unruly, easily smashed mob. 

“That seemed anticlimactic,” I thought at Badgelor, who continued smashing through ranks of undead with abandon.  I surveyed the battlefield.

Chapter 47 – ‘Second’ in Command

Lorraine hated to admit that the trumped-up Grebthar wannabe was decent at this.  Nothing creative, mind you, but sometimes all you needed to do to pound a nail was hit it hard enough.  It also helped when you had a damn War Badger that thought he was the real Badgelor.  This badger was, frankly, doing a brilliant impersonation of him. 

You didn’t have to be a tactical genius when your center couldn’t possibly break.  The massive, angry War Badger was smashing anything that advanced toward him.  Halfway through the battle, Lorraine had started rotating soldiers behind Badgelor, allowing them to recover some Stamina.  Nothing had gotten past the badger.  Hell, nothing had even come close.

As Lorraine watched, the undead horde took advantage of the elevation on the far side of the creek bed.  They leapt onto Badgelor’s back and pounded on him for several seconds.  As she watched, the badger’s Health bar moved down microscopically.  While they attacked him, Badgelor laid waste to a half-man, half-bear, half-pig monster.  Her troops hadn’t been able to even budge it, but Badgelor just rolled on the ground, smashing the monster with his bulk.  He then resumed his advance, like nothing had happened.  Just like in the damn stories. 

“If you think I’m going to kneel for you, fake Grebthar wannabe, you have another thing coming,” Lorraine growled, readying another attack.     

She had adopted fake Grebthar’s tactic of diving in and striking with all her power.  Then, she would withdraw and allow her troops to advance.  He was better optimized for mass combat than she was, but she was doing better than Nick.  In her book, that was good enough.  After the battle, she’d have to figure out what to do with fake Grebthar.  That was for later, though.   

After her last explosive series of strikes, she took a moment to survey the battlefield.  She spotted Merideth and her unit pushing forward, even as Nick’s forces stalled.

“Getting bored back there?” chided Lorraine to her little sister. 

“Hardly, but casualties are starting to thin out,” Merideth retorted.  That was somewhat odd.  Normally, casualties were higher when advancing into the enemy.  In this case, fake Grebthar had let the undead beat themselves to full death on the line before advancing.  That was a tactic she would have to remember. 

It wasn’t a strategy that would work on a human army, though.  A human commander would spread their forces out more and attempt some better flanking maneuvers.  The undead horde was not nearly as smart, though.  While some of them were crafty, like those feral ghouls, most just wanted to go straight for the warmest, softest flesh they could find.

Lorraine had a few ex’s that they reminded her of.  She looked over at Nick. 

She was a Duelist.  It was a fact that her family had regretted, until the civil war started.  Paladins and other holy types were a dime a dozen in Falcon, but a Duelist, optimized for one-on-one fighting, tended to win Battles, as she had known them. 

Now, Lorraine realized how short-sighted that was.  Being able to win duels wasn’t useful when there was nothing to duel.  Nick, for all his many, many, many faults, had the endurance she lacked.  She was running low on healing potions and would have to pull back to her sister soon.  Nick had been removing his injuries as they came, leaving him in an excellent position to continue grinding into the enemy line.  If she wasn’t creative with her abilities, he would eventually outpace her.  Lorraine’s dignity would absolutely not allow that. 

Suddenly, her orderly line bucked.  A half-dozen of her troops went flying backward, as a massive monster exploded from the ranks of undead.  Somehow, it had hidden in the mass of zombies they were grinding to a pulp.  It was over twelve feet tall and humanoid in appearance, though its arms were too long, and its legs were too short.  The most disturbing characteristic was its mouth, which went from ear to ear on an otherwise rotted human face. 

●   Gibbering Hulk, Boss

Lorraine’s face paled.  That creature was an actual boss, not just a commander.  She didn’t have Lore and didn’t dare even guess at the creature’s Hit Point totals.  That was the kind of monster that parties of adventurers charged into dungeons to fight.  Yet, it was out here killing everyone, killing her people.

Lorraine gripped her sword.  She was one of the Four Sisters and the real commander of the Army of Calistoga.  She was an adventurer, and her men were dying.  She cursed herself for only bringing one vile of Divine Power potion.  She could have sworn she’d left home with two.  Shaking off her doubt, Lorraine charged the monster.

Dodging between her men, Lorraine prepared a Felling Strike and aimed for the Hulk’s knees.  If it couldn’t walk, it would be less of a threat.  She timed the move to when both its arms were striking her troops.  She disliked that.  The creature was busy killing her army, but, at this point, there was little she could do about it.  She inwardly vowed to ensure that their deaths would save the rest of the force. 

Then, she was flying through the air.

●   You have suffered 87 points of Damage from Gibbering Hulk.  Effects: Your left arm is broken.

Lorraine landed, the fight knocked clean out of her for the moment.  The Gibbering Hulk had been fast, much faster than she had anticipated.  Her build was not capable of standing against him.  Duelists were good for one-on-one fights versus someone of approximately equal skill.  They were not good for this.  

Looking around lazily, she spotted Jerry rushing in.  However, the mere aftershocks from the Hulk’s strikes were enough to make running a challenge.  Jerry was not going to reach her in time.  A massive Holy Blast, the best Merideth could manage in a last-ditch effort to save her big sister, exploded in the Hulk’s face.  The spell only shifted the creature’s Health bar slightly. 

The War Badger moved toward her, leaving the center exposed.  However, Lorraine noted that there were several ranks of spears there.  The line would hold, despite the badger’s absence.  

Lorraine knew she was in trouble, but the impact had stunned her.  For the moment, her reactions were kaput.  The Gibbering Hulk was going to smash her, and she was going to die.  A part of her brain was amazed at how calm she was about that fact.  The monster casually struck away several of her troops that had formed a desperate bulwark to defend her. 

Her soldiers were loyal, and Lorraine realized she had done very little to engender that loyalty.  In her last few moments of life, she understood that what Jim said was true.  Lorraine had been playing at war, playing at being an adventurer, playing at life.  She had been far too interested in the benefits of being an adventurer, caring not for its responsibilities.  She had lived a thoroughly worthless life. 

No one was going to care when she died. 

She looked up, as the creature’s massive fist blotted out the sun.  She closed her eyes, preparing to meet whatever came next. 

Then, Jim was there, standing between her and the Hulk.  He was doing what an adventurer should do.  He was standing between her people and an unstoppable monster, daring it to move him.  Jim was a better adventurer than she was. 

The Gibbering Hulk’s arm moved so fast that Lorraine could barely follow it.  It was like a tree trunk, whipping at such a high speed that you could hear it cut through air.  Jim moved to parry the blow.  She was right behind him.  If he Dodged, she would die. 

Hopefully, she would make better choices in the next life. 

Then, the tree trunk limb swung at Jim and bounced off his sword with a mighty thunk.  For a moment, Lorraine thought she had gone crazy.  Then, the second gigantic arm flashed down and was, likewise, deflected.  This time, a spray of black blood spurted through the air. 

The Hulk roared and lurched toward Jim.  Insanely, he jumped into its face and executed an eight strike Hack and Slash.  The creature stumbled backward, while Jim landed between Lorraine and the massive horror.  His sword was back in the guard position. 

Suddenly, warm hands grabbed her broken arm, and the pain vanished.  Lorraine turned to see Merideth.  Her sister was desperately shouting at her.

“Accept the party invite and get in there,” she screamed. 

Lorraine accepted the invite.  It had probably been there since the creature was first spotted.  Jim, the Curious Puppy, stood there, smashing away at the dungeon boss’s strikes.  He was doing so with contemptuous ease, as his second in command was busy wool-gathering.  She gripped her sword and screamed a battle cry.

Chapter 48 – The Mighty Hero Stands Firm Against all Enemies

“AAAAAAAAA,” I screamed, “What the hell am I doing?  This thing is going to smash me into goo!”

“Calm down,” yelled Shart, as I deflected another strike.  I was combining my Parry skill with my Powerful Blow skill, more or less striking at his Powerful Blows with my Powerful Blows.  After all, a kind of parry was just striking your opponent's weapon as hard as you possibly could, right?  Right!  Each time I parried, I felt it all the way down to my bones.  On more than one occasion, only my extensive use of Mitigate had prevented me from flying off into the atmosphere.

I activated Riposte again, slashing into the floor boss’s arm.  Doing so shaved off another 30 of his Hit Points.

●   Gibbering Hulk, Boss

●   HP: 2272/2800

●   Stamina: 422/500

●   Mana: 100/100

●   A Gibbering Hulk is created by stitching together many undead, until their minds collapse into a singularity.  A Necromancer of sufficient power can control this merged consciousness.  Forming the creature from many kinds of undead creates seams to exploit. 

One of the Necromancers had been controlling it, probably saving it as a trump card.  I’d had him killed, proving that the Necromancer had no idea how to wage a battle.  If he’d been smart, the Necromancer would have sent the Hulk straight at Badgelor in the battle's opening stages. 

“Maybe not,” stated Shart, reading my mind.  “If a dungeon boss gets injured outside the dungeon, he isn’t going to be able to heal or repair himself.  The rest of the creatures are easy to replace.”

“If Badgelor had done more Damage earlier, could it have screwed up the Necromancer’s plans?” I asked, as another explosive blow threatened to send me flying. 

“Probably, but your earlier assessment that the Necromancer wasn’t a competent field commander was probably right, as well.  He was using a Necromantic spell to control the undead, not the War Leader skill,” stated Shart.  Suddenly, the Hulk twisted its arm at an unnatural angle and slammed it on top of me.  He struck me with a tremendous amount of force, causing my feet to dig into the rock I was standing on.  A circle of pebbles nearly five logs wide bounced into the air from the shockwave.

“Come on, you fecker, show me what you got!” I screamed, in a half-hysterical fury.   

I realized I should have been trying to counterspell the Necromantic control over the army, but I had no idea where the Necromancer’s body was.  The further away I was from the original caster, the harder the spell was to dispel.  I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do much outside of a very localized area.  That was the kind of stupid thinking a man did, as a massive, twelve-foot-tall monster with arms like telephone poles was attacking him.  A sane man would have moved out of the way.  A smart man would have never been there in the first place.   

The Hulk launched two more tremendous blows at me, causing a Mitigate pop up that was horrible.

●   Effect Resisted: Extremity Removal.  You have spent 22 Stamina to resist having your hands torn off.  You successfully parry the Hulk’s crushing fist. 

I hated this.  I would have dearly loved to Dodge the strikes.  However, if I moved, Lorraine was going to die.  If she died now, I would have to make some hard choices regarding whether to save Julia or an entire estate’s worth of people.  I wanted to avoid making choices like that. 

Finally, Lorraine accepted my party invite, so I could see exactly what she was planning.  It was not smart.  She had decided that I must be able to cover her and was going back in to try to cut the creature’s foot off.  Because that had been so wildly successful the first time. 

“Wait,” I mentally yelled at her. 

The Hulk, growing tired of swinging at me, spotted her closing.  He attempted to smash at her with his arm.  I blocked it, slamming my sword into the limb in another fountain of blood.  Unfortunately, that left the other arm free.  It swung straight down at her in an arc that I couldn’t intercept.

The fist hit hard enough to shake the battlefield.  Miraculously, Lorraine’s Hit Points were unaffected.  Glancing over everyone’s stats, I noticed that Merideth’s Mana had taken a sharp drop.  As the Hulk pulled its fist away, I spotted Lorraine.  She was squeezed inside a glowing pink orb that popped as soon as he lifted his arm. 

With both the Hulk’s attacks expended, Lorraine had a clear run.  She executed a devastating Felling Strike into the creature’s ankle, leaving a moderately shallow scratch. 

“How did you know?” yelled Lorraine.  “If I hadn’t slowed, Merideth wouldn’t have gotten the barrier up in time!”

“No time for chatter!  Aim for the seams,” I mentally commanded the party. 

Lorraine was already diving away, as another blast of Holy energy exploded directly in the Hulk’s face.  The monster wheeled, trying to find the source of the blast.  I spotted Nick, who was breaking free from his men, while I also looked for seams to exploit.

I launched myself into the air and activated Falling Star Strike, descending on the Hulk’s outstretched arm like a comet.  At the last moment, I infused my blade with a Holy Smite and smashed into the creature.  The force, bolstered by Lorraine’s Divine Power potion, was incredible. 

The limb twitched, as fists full of flesh exploded from it.  I had miscalculated.  As the creature regained footing, it got its other arm around in an inhumanly possible position.  The Hulk was going to smash me like a bug.  Yet, even as I prepared an escape attempt, the creature suddenly staggered.  The ground had exploded, as a furious Badgelor burrowed out from under it. 

The Gibbering Hulk outweighed Badgelor by a considerable margin, but Badgelor didn’t care.  He aimed for the creature’s inner thigh, latching onto it with his powerful fangs.  He was attempting to shred the creature’s leg.  Now conflicted between me, the minor annoyance, and Badgelor, the mortal threat, the Hulk changed targets.  He brought his fist down on Badgelor in a thundercrack.

Badgelor’s Hit Points dropped a concerning amount, but not as much as the Hulk would have liked.  Four or five more strikes like that, and Badgelor would be in serious trouble.  Even as I thought it, a second strike slammed into Badgelor.

By now, Lorraine and Nick had both closed, with Jerry close behind.  They were all striking at the creature’s other leg, denying it the leverage it needed to smash Badgelor.  I wanted a better option.  Half the arms meant half the attacks.

●   Powerful Quick Force Holy Thrust: Damage 102

It was everything and the kitchen sink time.  I dumped every spell, skill, and ability I had into a single Thrust.  I was going to have to trust my Force to get the blade right where I needed it to be.  Using my last Force Point with Thrust allowed me pinpoint accuracy and a bit of airtime.  I felt my sword yank me into the air, as I rocketed across the field.  I drove the tip of my Holy blade into the Hulk’s shoulder, next to where I’d previously hit him with my Falling Star Strike. 

By now, I had ravaged the Hulk’s arm.  Merideth had dumped at least one long-range Holy Blast into it.  Additionally, striking at Badgelor was like punching a heavy sandbag.  The limb I’d struck cracked but did not break off entirely.  Unfortunately, me having my sword locked into the limb gave the Hulk something to swat.  He finally managed to brush me aside, sending me flying with his insane strength.

Thankfully, I managed to do even more Damage when my sword tore free.  I flipped three times in mid-air, landing superhero-style next to some of Lorraine’s soldiers. 

“Hello, there,” I stated.

“Sire,” one responded.  The rest were too busy staring in awe, presumably at the massive Hulk. 

“Have your spears ready.  I’ll need them soon,” I replied and charged back toward the creature.

Badgelor had suffered two more hits in the interim, and his Hit Points were at less than a third.  I was about to order him to let go, an order that, in his rage, he would have most likely ignored.  However, Merideth cast a ranged Heal on him, bringing him to just over half-health.

The Gibbering Hulk brought up his damaged arm to smash Badgelor again.  As the limb slammed into my badger, it made a distinct popping sound.  The Hulk’s shoulder had slipped free of its socket, but it had done so explosively.  More shoulder muscle was torn free, as the bone popped out of place. 

With the other adventurers working on the leg, I spotted my opening.  I yelled out, “For Wind and Windfall!”  I never liked it, but it got the point across.  Lorraine’s soldiers understood, and the front ranks screamed and charged, their spears pointing directly at the weakened side of the Hulk. 

The Gibbering Hulk tried to move, tried to cover its weakened flank, tried to do anything really, but it was no use.  It got dogpiled.  In a dungeon, this boss would have surely been terrifying.  Out in the open and exposed, the dungeon boss was having problems.  The Gibbering Hulk suddenly found itself beset by an army, an army that was supernaturally brave because of my Rallying Cry.  They were all attacking him at the wrong angle for the beast to defend himself. 

Dozens of spears pierced the Gibbering Hulk’s side, causing thick streams of black gore to shoot out everywhere.  Meanwhile, the Hulk was still trying, unsuccessfully, to remove Badgelor.  The badger had changed his bite target from the thoroughly mauled leg to the creature’s remaining arm.  At the same moment, the other adventurers’ investment in removing the Hulk’s healthy leg paid off.  Jerry struck the final blow, severing the creature’s leg at the knee.  The leg went rolling, like an obnoxious elongated bowling ball, knocking several soldiers down.  The Hulk itself began to topple toward the army.

As the creature fell, Badgelor managed some weird, badger Aikido move, causing the Hulk to flip over.  The Hulk slammed to the ground with enough force to knock tiles off the nearby estate’s roof. 

At this point, the notion of spearmen needed to be addressed.  In most video games, when you think of spearmen, you think of soldiers holding spears.  That’s not the whole story, though.  While a spear certainly was a spearman’s primary weapon, most also carried a spare weapon or two.  Lorraine’s spearmen were no exception.  They seemed to favor axes and maces as secondary weapons.

While the Hulk was pinned to the ground by Badgelor, Lorraine’s soldiers descended upon it like army ants.  The thick seams covering the creature were highly exposed, and they functioned as the soldiers’ targets.  The seams split open quite easily when hit with an ax or smashed with a mace. 

In short order, they had turned the undead monstrosity into a pile of offal.  That, combined with Nick’s army smashing the remaining undead, left us in control of the battlefield.  Robin was still riding down stragglers, but nothing threatened our army or the estate.   

I walked over to Lorraine.  “I think that just about concludes our business.”

She was flat on her back, chuckling.  Her cousin and Nick were, likewise, sprawled on the field, ignoring the-inch-deep muck.  “I guess so,” she sighed eventually.  “Will you help us with Nick’s estate?”

“You guys have this.  I believe in you,” I said.  Shart groaned. 

Lorraine thought about that for a moment.  “I went up two ranks in War Leader, so I guess I do.  I assume that’s your doing?”

“Probably.  I’m also going to promote all the sergeants I breveted up in the battle.  That way, you won’t have to pay the double Command Point cost next time,” I said.  It would be expensive for her in a monetary sense, as sergeants got paid more.  At the same time, it vastly expanded the army she could control.  The levity on her face dwindled as she considered that. 

“What are you going to do?” asked Jerry, sitting up to look at me.  As he did so, a thick mass of muck poured off his armor. 

“Save the princess,” I said calmly, looking to the east.

“She killed the king,” stated Nick, likewise sitting up to look at me curiously.

“I’m pretty sure I already fought the woman that killed the king.  It wasn’t the princess.  His real killer could shape shift,” I replied.

“The king did dote on Julia,” stated Nick, consideringly.  “I suppose it does sound believable that a Shapechanger killed the king.” 

“I expected more pushback from that idea,” I said.

“Julia, who loved her father to pieces, suddenly pulled knives out and stabbed him full of poison,” said Lorraine, as she, too, realized what she was lying in.  “It never made much sense, but Julia wasn’t there to defend herself.  Certain elements in the kingdom have spent a great deal of time defaming her character, and she did just up and vanish.”

“The assassin’s party kidnapped her when it happened,” I replied. 

“That wouldn’t be the strangest thing I’ve heard today,” stated Jerry.  “Heck, I just fought a battle with Badgelor for Wind and Windfall.  All we need now is Tomen and …”  Jerry trailed off. 

“Well, I’ll send you the coordinates to the temple.  It's only about half a day’s travel from here,” said Lorraine, slowly rising from the muck.  “If she’s alive, we could help.  Help us with the rest of the undead, and I’ll party up with you.”

“No time.  I’ve got to save her by tomorrow night.  The usual timed quest stuff, you know?” I chuckled, signaling Badgelor.  He shuffled over, still in his ultimate form.  I reached into his folds to pull out a ghoul’s hand. 

“Well, then, thank you, Jim,” said Lorraine. Standing up fully, she turned to face me.  For a moment, she looked like she was going to shake my hand; however, she stopped herself.  Apparently, I still wasn’t important enough.  I hopped onto Badgelor and looked around at the army.  Everyone, including Lorraine, was kneeling.

“I told you, a man riding a badger gets mad respect,” stated Badgelor, who started shuffling out of the army.  “It used to happen to me everywhere I went.”

We were leagues away before I realized that my title had shifted from Jim, the Curious Puppy to Jim, Mayor of Windfall.  It had happened when I’d yelled out my war cry. 

“Hopefully, that doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass,” I thought.   

Chapter 49 – Progression toward the Goal

“So, there is supposed to be a bridge here?” I asked, looking down into the deep, broad crevasse.  At the bottom was a small horde of formerly undead.  It seemed that the bridge couldn’t handle the crossing of all the creatures that chose to make their pilgrimage to the land of the living. 

“I’m guessing that’s what those pillars were for,” said Badgelor, gesturing to the collapsed stone tower that had gone with the bridge.  I grumbled.  With the sun behind us and mountain peaks all around, light was getting dodgy.  I ended up casting Heightened Senses, just to get a good view of everything. 

“Amulet of Spider Climbing?” I asked, hoping that magical wonder could help us. 

“No,” replied Badgelor.  “It only works for a few minutes at a time.  It would be at least a solid day’s climb over all those sharp, jagged rocks.” 

“That must be nearly a mile across.  How did they manage to set a rope bridge?” I asked.

“Miles, Jim?  Really?  Okay, the Marksman Talent Tree has a ranged shot talent that can hit a third of a league,” stated Badgelor.  I glanced through my Marksman talent and found it.  Each rank doubled my range, and my base range was 200 logs.  I couldn’t hit much at 200 logs, unless the target was enormous.  That meant 4 ranks of Extended Range would give me enough range to shoot over a canyon of this size with some degree of accuracy. 

All you needed to do was attach a string to the arrow.  Once you got the arrow over the crevasse, you could just keep sending thicker and thicker strings across, until you managed a rope.  On Earth, I’m guessing the physics would have declared the bridge too long, but that wasn’t as much of a concern on Ordinal.  Sometimes magic is wondrous. 

“We are going to have to go around,” I shrugged.  “Hi Ho!”

“Hi Ho!” replied Shart.

“It's off to work we go,” I confidently stated, as Badgelor groaned. 

“It's Heigh-Ho you dimwits,” stated the badger.

“You’d have to be reading it to tell the difference,” I said sarcastically.

We continued to the east, heading through darker and increasingly less hospitable parts of Falcon.  This place looked burned out, and the tracks of undead were everywhere.  A whole dungeon’s worth of creatures had flooded into the local lands, which was particularly obvious here.  

“I guess it's better than nothing,” growled Badgelor.  Lorraine’s belated gift of the temple’s coordinates was more or less unnecessary, given the massive tracks of undead that had passed through here.

“Well, it is the thought that counts,” I replied.

“I know you can’t see me, but I’m rolling my eyes right now, Dum Dum,” said Shart, as we continued. 

“So, we have until the moon rises tomorrow?” I asked. 

“Yes,” confirmed Shart.  “Most summonings are tied to one of the moons. The most powerful moon of all heralds my summoning.  It is the Blue Moon, or, as it is properly known, the Dragon’s Moon.  In spoken Ancient, it is called the Agons-Dray eft-Lay ut-Nay.”

I blinked.  “That’s Ancient?”

“Yup, Charles used to use it on occasion.  Hardly anyone knows what it means,” stated Badgelor, before he spat onto the ground.  “Only a few scholars claimed to understand it, and I’d wager most of them were lying.  Charles said it would be easy for someone from Earth to understand.”

I was about to laugh, when I realized I was not speaking English.  My mind only interpreted what people said as English.  I actually spoke in some strange Ordinal language that probably had virtually nothing to do with English's basic grammatical structure. 

Explaining how to translate English Pig Latin into Ordinalese would have made no freaking sense whatsoever.  Pig Latin was a language game with strange rules meant for English.  I couldn’t even guess at what shoving Ordinalese through it would do.

“Eat-Nay, adgelor-Bay,” I responded.

“That’s my name in Ancient!  Hey, Zit, I told you, ya dumbass,” stated Badgelor.  Shart groaned.

“How?  I can barely translate Ancient,” Shart whined.  “That’s not fair!”

Grinning, I checked the area for dangers.  I didn’t see any pumas; I also didn’t see any less dangerous creatures.  Deciding I was momentarily safe, I brought up my character sheet.  There were several icons I recognized for level-ups and skill gains.  There was also one I didn’t recognize. 

“Any idea on an icon that has two golden circles on a blue, stone head?” I asked Shart.

“No,” replied the demon.  “That sounds strange.”

I considered starting off with that but realized I should probably handle everything else first. 

●   Level up, Cleric 10

●   Your Hit Point total is increased by 10.  Your Mana is increase by 10. 

●   Your Hit Points have increased, your maximum Hit Points are now 490

●   You Mana has increased, your Maximum Mana is now 180.

●   You have learned the litany, Range 1

●   You have gained a talent!

“What is a litany?” I asked myself, bringing up the new ability.  It didn’t take long to find.  Litanies were components of Divine magic.  Divine spells operated verbally, unless you had perks.  You could say a litany while chanting a spell to further increase the effects. 

That was the single biggest difference between Arcane and Divine casting.  Arcane casting was Core based.  You internalized runes and used a word of power to activate the spell.  Divine casting involved mystical chants that I thought of as prayers.  They let you invoke your god’s will on the world.  Divine vs Arcane amounted to externally activating chants vs the internally activated runes.    

●   Litany: Range 1: You can boost the range of any spell by (rank) logs.

One log was meaningless to my Holy Blast spell.  However, for my healing spells, that was incredibly useful.  “Reach out and touch someone,” I chanted.  Nothing happened, nor had I expected anything to happen.  I hadn’t actually cast a spell. 

I focused on a healing spell and said, “Reach out and touch someone, Bub.”  The healing spell activated, impacting the wilted bush we were passing.  The bush flashed for an instant before returning to its green, leafy glory.

“Wait, healing works on bushes?” I asked.

“They are living things that can be hurt or killed,” stated Shart.

“In video games, it usually only works on creatures,” I said.

“Oh, these are always fun,” replied Shart patiently.  “Do tell, how does a video game affect us here in the real world?”

I said nothing.  Ordinal was not a video game.  I still had fleeting moments where Ordinal didn’t seem like the real world, either, but those were few and far between now.  Ordinal was a real place that had bizarre rules.  I guessed what Shart was saying made sense.  Healing magic used Life energy.  It wouldn’t care how you were alive, just that you were alive. 

Next, I tried to engage my perk, Empowered Healing, which allowed me to cast healing spells wordlessly.  I attempted to use the litany, but it didn’t work.  I needed to talk to activate the verbal component.  That meant my ability to cast Healing spells silently was useless here.  Just another one of those bizarre rules. 

Glancing through my talents, I considered my options.  I still needed to pick up Fast Regeneration, but it cost 3 Talent Points.  I didn’t have enough.  From there, I’d need to move up to Combat Regeneration, which would require even more points.  I reviewed my other choices in Heightened Senses but decided that I’d have to hold onto my Talent Points for the time being. 

●   Level up, Duelist 15

●   Your Hit Point total is increased by 10.  Your Stamina is increase by 10. 

●   Your Hit Points have increased, your maximum Hit Points are now 500

●   You Stamina has increased, your Maximum Stamina is now 385.

●   You may now select a Path.  Please review your unlocks

●   You have gained a perk

I finally had access to my next Path.  My third Path was going to be something that helped me fight.  Upon reflection, I had improved Badgelor with my first Path and my ability to explore the world with my second.  Now, with my third path, I was finally going to do something to improve my chances of survival in combat.  I really did get into entirely too much combat.

“Are you going to cry?” asked Shart.

“No,” I replied.  “Well, maybe.”

“Don’t cry on my back,” growled Badgelor.  “Riding a badger is a wondrous experience, and I’ll not have it marred by you crying on me.”

“People can be so happy that they cry,” I said.

“You sound like an ugly crier,” replied Badgelor.

“I always got that impression,” stated Shart.  “Dum Dum would be the kind of guy who would be a snotty mess by the time he was finished.”

“That hurts,” I replied.

“I’ll bet,” scoffed Badgelor, as he continued walking.

I examined my choices for my Path.  I had three, which seemed to be the rule of things on Ordinal.  Sword Saint was a Divine Path, devoted to the sword as a quasi-religion.  Eldritch Warrior was the second option.  It appeared to focus on a magical connection to the sword.  Finally, there was Weapon Master, the pure martial art of beating the crap out of things with weapons.

“Eldritch Warrior looks like a different version of Mage Knight,” I said, examining the Path options.  It used Mana and Stamina for most attacks, but it didn’t seem to utilize any magical Cores.

“That’s accurate,” stated Shart.  “An Eldritch Warrior is a decent option, if you have enough Mana but no form of magic.  They are allowed to learn a few low-level spells and can channel unformed Mana directly into their sword strikes, increasing the base Damage.”

When I was a Mage Knight, I could channel Mana into my sword strikes, which added an elemental component to the attacks.  Basically, as a Mage Knight, I could make a sword strike that inflicted Fire Damage.  Eldritch Knight would increase my base attack Damage.  Given how armor worked, that had its advantages.  In some circumstances, having attacks that did 40 points of Slashing Damage instead of 30 Slashing Damage would be far more effective than having a strike that did 30 Slashing Damage and 30 Fire Damage.  Of course, having a strike that did 40 Slashing and 30 Fire would also be useful. 

However, that seemed redundant.  One of the problems with my unique trait was that I had the opportunity to put a hat on a hat.  If I doubled up too closely, abilities could overlap rather than expand my options.  An Eldritch Mage Knight seemed dangerously close to that. 

The Sword Saint was a similar proposition, except it was from the Divine school of magic.  It used prayer and Stances to activate the “true power” of the sword.  I had already encountered stances from the elf.  They seemed useful, but I wasn’t sure they would be so valuable that I’d want a Path devoted to them.

“Shart, are Stances a skill or an ability?” I asked.  If Stances were skills, I could just train. 

“Both,” replied Shart.  “Some require perks to unlock.  However, there are some basic Stances that you can pick up without a class.  You would just need to find someone that can teach you.”

“Warriors don’t typically take Stances.  Is that because they don’t have enough magic to use them?” I asked.

“Yes,” replied Shart.  I could feel him rolling his eyes.  It was a habit of his, done every time he had to demonsplain something to me.  “A Stance is a magical pattern that you enact with your movements. Stances restrict how you can act in a lot of ways.  For example, the Unyielding Stance prevents your feet from moving.  That can be highly useful if you need to stand stock-still.”

Getting thrown around by attacks was a problem I’d had to overcome, “That would emulate some aspects of the Mitigate skill.”

“Not everyone has the Mitigate skill,” replied Shart.

I nodded.  That explained how the elven Monk had fought.  Several times, I’d hit him, and the elf’s Mana bar, not his Stamina bar, had reduced.  I hadn’t seen him casting any spells, so it hadn’t made sense at the time.  Now, I understood.  He had been changing Stances in response to my attacks, and they were magical enough that my Counterspell skill worked on them.

Finally, I glanced at Weapon Master and knew that it was going to be my choice.  It allowed you to apply all ranked skills to any weapon you were using at the time. 

Ranked skills were very highly focused skills.  In my best estimation, they behaved more like very focused mini perks than anything else.  My most commonly used skills were Quick Strike 3 and Powerful Blow 6, which I tended to use whenever I had the Stamina to spare.  However, I only had them at that Rank for my sword.  My other weapons were at substantially lower ranks.   

●   Quick Strike (3) (sword): You may expend 6 additional Stamina to make an extra strike.  You can make up to 3 extra attacks, total cost 18 Stamina.

●   Powerful Blow (6) (sword): You may add +6 Damage to a strike at the cost of 6 Stamina.  Each blow will also Knockback your opponent at a base of 6 logs. 

I snorted at the Knockback.  You could hit someone hard enough with a longsword to knock them back, but, unless you got a tremendous, square blow, your target would never go back that far. 

Since I was looking at my Ranked skills, I also took a moment to check out the Skill Points for both.  Doing so caused me to wince.  As you leveled Ranked skills, they became exponentially more expensive.  I was looking at weeks of training to get another Powerful Blow rank and probably months for Quick Strike. 

The big problem was how Ordinal did weapon skills in general.  I had the Blunt Weapon skill from the Cleric class, as well as the Maces skill from Warrior.  Blunt Weapon was a catch all skill that covered every blunt weapon imaginable.  In theory, that was a much better skill than Maces, which only covered maces.  However, Ordinal balanced the skills out by requiring a massive investment of Skill Points for Blunt Weapons to level up. 

There were broad weapon groups and tight weapon groups.  Each one of those had their own set of ranked skills that overlapped.  If the <system> had to choose between my Power Blow skill in Maces or Blunt Weapons in Cleric, it would just pick the higher ranked skill.  This meant I had dozens of Powerful Blow skills assigned to as many weapon skills.  Furthermore, the <system> tended to be arbitrary, in my personal view, of which skill actually applied. 

For example, I had recently beaten someone to death with a ham, one-handed.  I couldn’t use any ranks of Powerful Blow, because it was considered a Blunt Weapon and used my Clerical Skill.  When I shifted to a two-handed grip, it was considered a two-handed improvised weapon.  I’d picked up that skill while practicing with Glorious Robert. 

In short, I had ranked skills coming in from a bunch of different sources, and their variable ranks were eventually going to get me killed.  I needed to learn how to manage them, preferably before they killed me. 

If Weapon Master allowed me to apply all my Ranked abilities to all my weapons, I wouldn’t need to train in fifty kinds of Powerful Blow.  In a perfect world, my highest rank of the skill would carry over.  I was even more optimistic about my talents combining.  The skills tended to pool their collective experience together. 

Even better, Weapon Master removed any restrictions on weapon choices.  Shart had assured me that a Path overrode any lesser concerns.  Taking Weapon Master would prevent me from having my classes locked out due to weapon selections.  My Marksman talent sure would have come in handy so many times on this journey. 

I selected Weapon Master and felt the first stirrings of power flow through my body.  Badgelor promptly bucked me off, causing me to land face down in a puddle 

“No, leveling up on my back,” he stated.

You suck,” I groaned, as the full level up washed over me. 

●   You have achieved the first step on your Path to becoming a Weapon Master!

●   You have burned your Path into your soul.  No other Warrior Paths are available.

●   Your Path ability is now activated.  Your Duelist tree has expanded. 

Standing up and spitting out a rock, I glared at Badgelor.  “I was gaining a Path, you oversized throw rug, not leveling up!”

“Po-ta-toe, po-tah-toe,” replied the badger sardonically.  I grumbled and hopped back onto his back, landing far more firmly than was strictly necessary.  The action caused me to slide right off and land on the ground again.

Badgelor snorted.  “That one registered as an attack, so my Loose Skin talent activated. Please, do be careful.”

I was mature enough to know when I was beaten.  I also knew that revenge was a dish best served cold.  By this time, we had been walking all day, and I looked up into the darkening sky. 

“How much longer until we reach the temple?” I asked Shart.

“Half a day,” replied the demon, “assuming the roads are still intact.”

“And you aren’t being summoned?” I asked.

“No,” replied Shart.

Badgelor had already gotten the hint and walked off-road, shrinking to his bulldog size.  Being well-rested granted bonuses, while being exhausted caused penalties.  I was very nearly to that point after our eventful day.  If I continued much longer, I wouldn’t be in fit shape to fight.  Instead, I followed Badgelor.  We found a safe spot just off the road, and I dropped to my ass and looked around.

“No dinner?” I asked.

Badgelor frowned.  “I was eating on the road.  I don’t know what you were up to.”

I groaned and reached into my dimensional storage.  Aside from the pile of healroot, which wasn’t good eating, I had some jerky. 

“We should have brought the eggs,” stated Badgelor.

I rolled my eyes and flopped onto my back.  Gnawing on the jerky, I continued reading my character sheet.

“Everything merged as I expected,” stated Shart.  Like we expected, really, but Shart being Shart was still a thing.  I glanced through my stats.  All my Powerful Blow skills merged into Powerful Blow 7.  Quick Strikes was still at Rank 3 and would stay there forever, considering how many more points it needed to level. 

I was going to have to figure out what all the ranked skills were and pick up as many as I could. 

“My Marksman talent didn’t merge,” I said, realizing that its talent tree still existed.

“I didn’t really expect it to,” stated Shart.  “While everyone’s Path is slightly different, it would have been abnormal to merge two separate talent trees.  You got an improved Duelist tree that covers all general melee weapon types.  Don’t fret, all weapons are open to you now, including the ranged ones.”

Opening up the Weapon Master talent tree, I was suitably impressed.  Most of my talents had remained the same, but there were a few new ones that merited exploration.  The talent list was vastly expanded and listed new talents, such as Bind, which allowed me to use my whip to bind someone at long range. 

As I thoroughly examined the talent, I realized it applied to much more than just whips.  Any weapon that I could use to trap someone would activate Bind.  I just needed to find a sword, like Ivy from Soul Calibur.  Then, I’d be all set.  Of course, I wondered if that sort of sword would work in real life?

I know her armor wouldn’t have.

I glanced through the talents and realized that I had three Talent Points to spend that I hadn’t before.

“Those are from your weapon skills,” stated Shart.  “You get a new point every time a weapon hits Journeyman, then again at Expert.”

I only had Whip and Sword at that level, though several other weapon skills were approaching Journeyman.  Club was incredibly close.  Leveling these was something I could do. I’d just need to train with those weapons, an increasingly easy task, assuming I could use higher ranked skills to assist me.

Selecting Bind was the easy choice. Besides the actual binding, it allowed me to more effectively use a whip to snatch objects.  Next, I glanced around and chose Felling Strike.  I lacked a straight out, high Damage attack, and that gap had become apparent lately.  Finally, I selected the Twin Strike talent, which allowed me to use two different weapons at the same time. 

I was hoping that would be a good substitute for the Ambidexterity perk that I had gotten from my Adventurer class.  I’d reclaimed that perk when I’d brought the class back with Shart’s help, but, if I Remorted again, I didn’t want to lose it.  Remorting allowed you to keep your Path abilities, so I’d always have it from now on.   

Checking my other skills, I found that I’d increased the rank of Parry to Expert.  That gave me another perk.  Additionally, I had another Ranked skill there.

●   Powerful Parry: You are capable of expending Stamina to block massive blows.  Your current rank is 2. 

Having Ranked skills for Parry seemed useful, but that brought up the question of what other Ranked skills existed for defensive abilities.

“How many Ranked Skills are there?” I asked Shart, as I leaned back against a stump.

“Lots,” stated Shart.  “I’d have to check the <codebase>, but there are lots of them.  They all have different unlock requirements.”

“I don’t suppose you could just give me a list?” I asked.

“I wasn’t really in charge of that, so no.  If I ever get back to the tower, I could get you a copy.  The real kicker isn’t knowing them, though.  It’s unlocking them,” stated Shart.

Thinking back, I wasn’t sure how I had unlocked Powerful Parry.  I knew what I had been doing at the time, using Powerful Blow on my sword to strike at the Gibbering Hulk’s attacks.  It had to have involved standing there and knocking those massive attacks away.

“Is there also a level or class requirement for some of these skills?” I asked.

“Of course,” said Shart, and I felt the console in my head start to warm up.  “Let’s see here, for Powerful Parry it helps to be a dumbass.  You have to have the Powerful Blow skill Rank 5 or higher and be defending someone else from a life-or-death attack.”

“That doesn’t seem that uncommon,” I said.

“You also have to be a level 20 Warrior, 30 Warden, or a few other options,” stated Shart.  “Your UnBound lets you avoid the level requirements.”

I pondered that.  There should be some skills with higher level requirements that I could unlock to give me a real leg up. I just didn’t know how to activate them. 

Thoughts for later.

That left me a perk choice.  I glanced through the menus, until I remembered another asshole and a bridge.  I quickly found Parry Anything and selected it.  That gave me the opportunity to Parry attacks I wasn’t necessarily aware of, assuming I had my weapon in the correct position. 

Hopefully, that would help me activate any Ranked skills associated with Parry, while protecting me from invisible attacks. 

Finally, I reached out for the weird, blue, stone icon and selected it. 

●   Checking for class eligibility:

●   War Leader Rank Five?  True.

●   Army of Windfall includes at least 2 lieutenants and 8 sergeants? True.

●   Jim has reached level 0 in at least 3 classes, one of which must be martial? True. 

●   Great victories vs. challenging odds while in command of Army > 3? True.

●   All criteria for Tier 2 class unlocked.

●   <System Error> User has made a request for immediate level up in Tier 2 class.  User is not in the Chamber of Souls.  Searching for local Admin.  Admin found. 

●   <Admin Alert> A nearby user has unlocked a Tier 2 class outside the approved area.  <Approve/Deny>

“I just got an <admin> alert,” I said to no one.  Looking around, I realized that time had stopped.  This was not me operating on a quicker time scale than everyone else. Time had stopped entirely.  I tried to move, but, except for slight movements of my head, I couldn’t.  I sat frozen, and the prompt grew more insistent.  

I felt like I was standing in a meeting where someone had just asked me a question, and I wasn’t prepared.  Worse, even though I was in stasis, I could feel something behind the prompt scraping against reality.  Somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach, I knew that the <Admin> had begun to take notice of this.  The last thing in the universe I wanted was for them to be aware of me. 

I selected “Approve” within milliseconds, but I was confident that even that was too long. 

●   You have been approved for the Great General class!  Please choose two stat buffs for yourself at the first level! <error> Tier 2 Class on Tier 1 Body, consulting <Controller>

●   You gain the skill: Brass Lungs (Rare skill)

●   Your Hit Point total is increased by 20.  Your Stamina is increased by 20. 

●   <Error Corrected> Tier 1 Body upgrading into Tier 2 body. 

●   You gain 2 stat bumps.  Base HP, Stamina and Mana increase from 20 to 40. 

I wouldn’t say I liked the words on any of those prompts.  I slowly looked down at my hands and noticed that my flesh had become saturated with the same white energy that had made up Grebthar.  Time stabilized, and I looked over to Badgelor in shock. 

Rolling to my knees, I tried to ride this dragon and failed.  My world seemed to come apart.  My Hit Point total began to fluctuate and then dropped rapidly.  I desperately tossed two stat bumps into both Endurance and Willpower unsure of which choice would help me.  My Mana dissolved, shoving me into a violent Mana Crash. 

“What is happening?” yelled Badgelor.

“Jim is evolving into a Tier 2 human!” screamed Shart.  “All of his vitals are spiking.”

“Can you even do that here?” asked Badgelor, grabbing me by my head.  “We are nowhere near a Chamber of Souls!  Does he even have any Divine Essence?”

“No!  He should have gotten a prompt about it.  Anyone sane would have refus...” Shart trailed off, mid-word.  “Oh, no, Dum Dum.  What have you done?”

“His body doesn’t have nearly enough Mana for this!” exclaimed Badgelor, sounding more panicked than I had ever heard him.  I could feel him heave my body over his, even as I also felt myself begin to implode. 

“What are you doing?  Jim is going to die!” screamed Shart.  “Do something!”  Suddenly, I felt something wet slap against the side of my face.  It smelled like vomit.  My eyes zeroed in on a hunk of glowing white flesh that Badgelor was actively throwing up.  Then, I saw a small shadow flowing through it. 

“Charles,” I moaned.

“What?” asked Shart.

“Yes, and don’t ask,” stated Badgelor.  He grabbed the glowing hunk of meat and shoved it into my mouth.  I tried to resist, as cannibalism wasn’t my thing, but desperate times called for desperate measures.  The Divine Essence of Grebthar flowed into me.  Whatever the Tier 2 transformation needed, it found it in that essence.  My body flexed and shook for a long moment.  Then, I stopped moving entirely, as my new body reformed. 

Right before I passed out, I heard screaming and felt searing pain.  I was trying to block it, like I’d learned to do through the bond with Shart.  I was lost somewhere, wrapped up in a tentacle cocoon of pain that was holding me tightly, despite my struggles.   Still, my last conscious thought was of Badgelor’s warm fur wrapped around me.

***

“And we are sure he’s alive?” asked Badgelor.

“You’re bonded to him; you should know.  He’ll be fine in eighteen hours,” replied Shart, before groaning.  “Well, feck.  We can’t possibly make it to the temple from here before moonrise.  Not now.”

“That assumes we leave from here when he wakes up,” said Badgelor.

“What do you mean?” asked Shart.

“I have an idea!” exclaimed the badger, his mouth turning into a terrible parody of a smile.  It’s an awful idea.  I have a wonderful, awful idea.”

Chapter 50 – The Final Countdown

Phillip sat comfortably, checking his gear.  He’d crafted new arrows that were a far sight better than the arrows he had been using.  Phillip had to thank O’Really for that. He had been getting sloppy and fighting that bastard had forced him to up his game.  Not that it mattered much, now that O’Really was dead.  Instead of fighting epic battles against great warriors, Phillip was watching Hardragon and Julia argue. 

There wasn’t much else to do.  They were in the summoning chamber, which meant they were in a room with a large circle etched onto the floor.  It was one of a few small structures on the roof of the temple.  Besides walking over to check on the Dungeon Core or, more importantly, his laundry, Phillip had been sitting around bored for hours.  The only interesting thing to do was watch the ex-lovers glare at each other.   

Julia sat, the collar forcing her to remain stationary, as Hardragon observed her.  Despite the long hours that he’d watched her, the hatred still burned just as fiercely behind her eyes.  Hardragon’s world burned in those eyes, but he stared back, convinced he deserved it.  Phillip groaned.  Leave it to Hardragon to get overly involved with a lost cause.   

“How much longer?” Julia asked.

Hardragon finally had an excuse.  He turned his head away and stared off into the sky.  Phillip checked the sky for an entirely different reason.  The orb of the pale rock was known as the Dragon’s Moon to normal men and Agons-Dray eft-Lay ut-Nay to the poets.  Now that the sun was starting to fall, it would be in the correct position soon.  It was almost time.     

The collar was at its maximum power, requiring Su-Kar to pour all her Mana Regeneration into it, just to keep it active.  Even with Julia’s body imprisoned, the princess still had that same fire in her eyes. 

Hardragon frowned.  It still hurt to talk, but he could speak in short sentences without experiencing utter agony. “Do you still think someone will rescue you?”

“Yes,” she replied, watching the sorrow in his eyes be replaced by anger.

“We are in a ruined temple in the middle of nowhere!  Phillip sent every creature that moved through its first four floors to pillage throughout your lands.  Do you think this is some sort of story?”

There was silence.  For the barest of instants, Phillip thought he saw the tiniest crack in Julia’s armor, the tiniest realization that she was doomed, the first hints that despair was overtaking her.  Alternatively, it had been hours, and Hardragon hadn’t succeeded yet.  As the moment passed, Phillip stood up. 

“Sorry, princess, no one would wait this long to come rescue you.  I’m going to go check on my underwear,” said Phillip.  He strolled past Julia, who clearly saw that Phillip was wearing the top half of his armor but nothing else.  Hardragon watched him go, as Julia’s defenses snapped back up.  Phillip was Donald Ducking it, and, had there been a point to complaining, Hardragon would have done so.  However, Phillip was Phillip, and Hardragon didn’t like arguing with brick walls. 

Su-Kar rolled her eyes, as Phillip walked right past her in the adjacent chamber.  Technically, the leather skirt of his armor covered everything necessary.  Unfortunately for her, the small cauldron containing his undergarments was sitting with his equipment.  As he bent over to check it, she saw an eye so terrible that few could endure. 

“Please stop,” she stated, grumbling.  She ceased her knitting, which was about the only thing she could do while powering the collar.  She averted her face.

“A man has to have clean unmentionables,” he chuckled, pulling out a pair of socks.

“What I don’t get is why you have an Alchemist’s cauldron for washing your socks,” she said.

“Hey, this cauldron independently heats and purifies each section of its skin.  Whatever you put in dirty comes out clean,” stated Phillip.

“And you use it for socks,” Su-Kar sighed.  “I know a man named Jake who would pay a pretty penny for such a cauldron,” 

“Then what would I clean my socks in?” asked Phillip.

Su-Kar considered that, realizing that Phillip would need clean socks.  She nodded at him and continued knitting her latest masterpiece.  Su-Kar had grown up after her last trip on the road. 

Before the last trip, they hadn’t known what absolute hatred was.  Phillip’s disdain for Su-Kar had been a petty thing, a dalliance at enmity.  O’Really, now there was someone to loathe.  She smiled, looking down at her project.  She was crafting a mask covered in fishhooks.  She had planned to put a hook in each of O’Really’s eyes and pull them from his head slowly.  She looked a little sad that she wasn’t going to be able to use it. 

Su-Kar smiled weakly at Phillip and held up the mask.  He smiled back, patting his side pouch that contained his torturing knives.  Su-Kar was so resourceful.  As she looked almost fondly over at Phillip, she spotted something out of the corner of one of her keen eyes. 

Su-Kar examined it for a long moment.  Phillip tore his gaze away from her and followed her line of sight.  She didn’t have any of the long-range sensing skills he enjoyed, so he would be better at distinguishing whatever it was.  If he gave her some time, the clever woman probably knew a dozen spells that would let her see whatever she had spotted more clearly than he could.  What she saw appeared to be a man, riding a vast furry horse.  “Phillip, dear, what is that?” Su-Kar asked, gesturing with one of her knitting needles. 

Phillip dropped his underwear back into the cauldron.  While he may not have the best manners, he was actually trying to act civilly.  “I see it, too.  I do believe that will be a major problem.”

Su-Kar nodded at him and finished up her stitchwork.  Phillip groaned inwardly.  After politely excusing himself from Su-Kar, he walked back into the Summoning Chamber.  Hardragon would take the news like a kick in the teeth, no matter what.  Phillip didn’t know what he’d done to piss off Hardragon recently, but this wasn’t going to help matters any.

Rolling his eyes, Phillip re-entered the summoning chamber.  He glanced over at Hardragon, who was still chatting with the princess.  She looked almost defeated, finally, and Phillip was glad for it.  In Su-Kar, the undefeatable attitude was kind of hot.  From the princess, the stubbornness was annoying. 

Hardragon continued his verbal berating of Julia.  “Do you honestly believe you have any chance of escaping here?”  Julia’s face began to crumble, as Phillip went about putting on the pants to his armor. 

Sensing her weakness, Hardragon doubled down.  “Do you think that your kingdom is going to rescue you?  No one even knows where you are.”  That one hit home.  Phillip watched, as the cracks in Julia’s armor began to show.  One more little hit, and she was going to break.

Hardragon prepared his final blow.  “Do you think that some hero, holding his sword up to the heavens, riding a giant fucking badger, is going to crest the hill and come charging in to rescue you?”

“Oh, you saw him, too?” asked Phillip, conversationally.

Explosive temper didn’t begin to describe it.  Hardragon stormed down the path from the summoning chamber, brushed past Su-Kar, and stopped at the balcony where Twinkle was busy strumming a harp. 

“Ahem,” stated Hardragon, causing Twinkle to jerk upright.  The elf quickly glanced out over the field, undoubtedly to give his report on nothing.  He opened his mouth but promptly snapped it shut again.  His eyes narrowed at the small black dot in the distance.  Phillip’s Perception was high enough to catch the single elven swear word that Twinkle uttered.  Thankfully for the elf, Hardragon remained ignorant. 

“Where did they even find a War Badger?” asked Twinkle, looking out with his elven eyes.  “I thought we killed them all.”

“It looks like Hardragon missed one,” replied Phillip, trying to keep the conversation going.  Hardragon was counting under his breath and rubbing his temples.  Phillip groaned.

Hardragon hated War Badgers. In his opinion every War Badger needed to die a long, miserable death.  No one knew quite why Hardragon felt so strongly.  You just had to accept that about him.

“Hold your horses,” stated the Hunter, drawing his bow.  “I’ll get you all the details you want.”  Even with the man well out of range, just holding the bow and using the aim action allowed Phillip to zoom in nearly two and a half times greater than usual.  That directly expanded his Lore range by the same amount. 

“Black armor, racing stripe, holding up his sword like a loon,” stated Phillip, as he continued watching.

“Like Grebthar,” gasped Twinkle.  That earned him a glare from Su-Kar. 

“Har har,” stated Phillip, as Hardragon stood stoically.  “How do you think he found us?”

“A quest, I expect,” answered Twinkle with a yawn.  “He probably got a ‘Save the Princess’ quest.  Something along the lines of ‘She is in the tallest tower in a ruined temple with monsters guarding her.’”

“Five gold says he doesn’t even get past the fifth floor,” stated Phillip to the elf.

“I’ll take that bet,” Twinkle grinned, before thinking.  “Wait just a second!  In order to prove I’ve won, I’ll have to go down there to collect the remains.”

Phillip grinned, and the elf chuckled.  The first few floors wouldn’t be much of a challenge for the elf anyway.  The idiot savior kept riding closer and closer.  Finally, he was near enough that Phillip could see an expanded list of details.

“The badger’s name is Badgelor,” stated Phillip. 

“Great,” hissed Hardragon, calming down.  “That’s just fine, then.  It takes a real idiot to name their badger after Badgelor.  At least we have that bonus.”

“He’s actually a pretty tough badger.  He has the full Ultimate talent tree active,” stated Phillip, frowning. 

“Will you be able to take him with arrows?” asked Twinkle, popping his knuckles.  Phillip groaned inwardly.  All elves were master Archers, his hairy ass.  Phillip knew Twinkle couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with arrows.  With his fists, the elf was a bit more deadly.  However, at this range, Twinkle was useless.  

“Are you upset because you won’t be able to fist him?” asked Phillip.

“I’ll have you know, I pride myself on my fisting.  Any time, any place, I’ll be there to fist anyone who needs it,” stated Twinkle, placing his hands on his hips.   

“Well, your skill at fisting is legendary,” stated Phillip.  Twinkle nodded. 

Su-Kar coughed.  “Why do your people use fisting instead of fisticuffs anyway?”

“Because we are monks,” stated Twinkle authoritatively. 

Phillip chuckled.  It had taken him a while to realize that the elf got the joke.  Twinkle would go on about his fisting abilities for hours if you got him drunk enough.  That made it even better in Phillip’s book.  Even Hardragon almost grinned. 

“Unless he has Bludgeoning Resistance, I’ll do just fine,” stated Phillip, going back to the topic at hand.  The badger continued to close.  War Badgers were just beasts, which was Phillip’s highest Lore skill.  He could get details from the badger at a farther distance than he could from the rider. 

The rider looked all sorts of impressive.  His armor was about the same caliber as Hardragon’s, and his weapon looked useful.  Hopefully, they would both sell for a reasonable price.  That idiot was running into a whole team of adventurers, and even that asshole O’Really hadn’t survived.  Of course, Maggie was gone now, attempting to fulfill her little quest.

Su-Kar had been kind of sad that they missed him.  Their journey to Union had been dominated by what they were going to do to O’Really, once they captured him.  Of course, O’Really had run into Hardragon, and that had been that. 

Then, Phillip saw something that made him snicker.  “His name is Jim.”

Su-Kar chuckled.  “Is he coming to teach us to mind our manners?”

Twinkle and Hardragon grew quiet for a moment.  Twinkle finally spoke.  “I can’t see two people having that same name.”

“No,” hissed Hardragon, “He must be Maggie’s target.”

“She was sent to torture and kill someone named Jim,” stated Su-Kar, nodding.  “I guess it would be impolite if we didn’t do the same.  We can put the poor idiot out of his misery.”

“I suppose we could,” said Hardragon uncomfortably.  Twinkle watched him for a moment, but then Phillip shrieked like a giddy schoolgirl.

“Hey, Su-Kar, it’s our lucky day.  That Jim guy is O’Really!”

“Praise be the Elder Demons, dropping that idiot into my lap,” growled Su-Kar, looking over at Phillip.  “We can share!”

Phillip barked a laugh.  “It will be fun. That asshole deserves everything he gets.”

Hardragon watched the rider with concern.  Twinkle looked over at him for a moment, adjusting a piece of hair that had slipped in front of his face.  Flipping the errant lock over his shoulder, the elf asked, “Problem?  I thought the boss wanted Jim dead.”

“The boss doesn’t give out many kill orders anymore.  I’m surprised she bothered with an unaffiliated adventurer,” stated Hardragon.  “Frankly, I wish Maggie had just assassinated him in Union, rather than the two of you screwing around with him.”

Twinkle said nothing for a long moment.  “Maggie did try to assassinate him.  She changed forms and put all her Stamina into it.  O’Really, well, I guess Jim, saw through it.”

“He is a pretty tough customer, Hardragon,” stated Phillip.  “He’s next to impossible to hit with arrows.”

“And he’s pretty good at countering magical spells,” stated Su-Kar.  She looked down at the oncoming badger and reevaluated her choices.

Phillip continued, “But you beat him with the sword, so it will be fine.”

“He had to use his Shout,” stated Su-Kar.

“Hardragon used his Shout twice,” amended Twinkle. 

“I thought you just did that to shatter the Temple,” said Phillip, suddenly concerned.  “O’Really lived through two Shouts?”  There was an uncomfortable silence, as the three adventurers watched Hardragon. 

Hardragon spoke slowly.  “There was someone in the room with the boss when I received my orders.  He was screaming about a man named Jim.  The boss seemed concerned about that man.”

Phillip knew of only two people in the entire world that the boss cared for.  Neither of them was there.  Unless Bashara suddenly turned into a man, that didn’t bode well for the world 

“Su-Kar, you and Phillip can take the point over there,” stated Hardragon, gesturing to the edge of the balcony.  “That should position us to use our firepower to slow his approach.  Su-Kar, I’ll be counting on you to use your magic to slow him down.”

Su-Kar frowned.  “I need to start Julia on the ritual soon.  Otherwise, we will miss the window for tonight.”  Hardragon stiffened.

Twinkle spoke up, “What’s going on?”

“That clever bastard,” growled Hardragon.  “He knows we are trying to summon an Elder Demon using Julia.  He would have noticed Julia wearing a Collar of Domination.  He was waiting to act until we committed to commanding Julia.”

“That does cut our numeric advantage down a little, but Su-Kar will be free by the time Jim fights his way through the dungeon,” stated Twinkle, glancing at the stone-faced Hardragon.

Hardragon watched the badger closing with an increasingly grim expression.  “War Badgers have a way of ruining your life.”

Chapter 51 – Onward goes the Hero

The constant jostling eventually woke me up.  I had fitful dreams of being wrapped in tentacles, buried in some smothering cocoon.  Those dreams suddenly gave way to a sense of rumbling motion.

“If he falls off, this isn’t going to work,” yelled Shart.

“I canna breathe, you giant zit,” hissed Badgelor.

“Breathing is for the weak!  Onward!” yelled Shart. 

I was riding Badgelor, technically.  By ‘technically,’ I mean that I was tied to the great badger’s back by a single loop of rope around his neck.  There was a line of drool running down my face.  My sword was in hand, at least, though it had been physically tied there.  In fact, there seemed to be a framework of sticks tied to my body, keeping me upright. 

Grabbing the fur at Badgelor’s neck, I yelled, “What the hell is going on?”

“Ashes and fire, he’s finally awake,” stated Shart.

“I canna breathe, cut the fecking rope and hold on,” exclaimed Badgelor.  I checked the rope.  He had tied it into a poor approximation of a constrictor knot.  It appeared the knot had been pulling tighter and tighter for quite some time.  The rope didn’t bother me, but Badgelor had wound it around his neck.  Snapping the framework holding my sword, I used it to cut the rope. 

“What the hell happened?” I asked, looking around.  It was getting dark out, but that didn’t make sense.  I had passed out when it was already dark.  “How long have I been asleep?”

“All fecking day,” stated Badgelor.  “I tried everything to wake you up, but nothing worked.”

“Everything?” I asked.

“He even teabagged you. That was my idea,” stated Shart proudly.  I started to protest, but the demon cut me off.  “It worked last time!”

It had, sadly.

“We wasted the whole day,” I groaned.  “Has the summoning started?”

“Not yet,” stated Badgelor.

“Um,” replied Shart.

“Feck,” I groaned.

“As far as I can understand, your body didn’t like the conversion into its Tier 2 form outside of a Chamber of Souls.  You went into a tiny bit of a coma,” stated Shart.  I checked my stats.

●   Jim, Cleric 10

●   Explorer 15

●   Duelist 15

●   HP: 560

●   Stamina: 445

●   Mana: 220

●   Force: 2/3

“Well, I got stronger,” I said, completing my quick assessment.  My Tier 2 body seemed to be a stronger version of my human body.  Well, no better way to test it than through life-or-death combat.            

“Yes, with a few side effects,” said Shart.

“I was in a coma,” I groaned.

“A tiny bit of one.  It only lasted around 18 hours,” stated Shart.  “It would have been longer, but your stats are higher now.”

“How did you tie all that stuff to me?” I asked, pulling several short lengths of rope off my person.  Doing so allowed me to release the remains of the frame that Badgelor had built around me. 

“I used our shared skills, like Rope Use and Improvised Tools,” stated Badgelor.  I would have to talk to him about his Improvised Tool usage.  When I used that skill, it was cool.  When he used that skill, shit got kind of creepy. 

Plus, he had forgotten the chicken.

My new stats were higher than they used to be, which was a solid improvement.  I had even recovered 2 Force Points.  Force Point recovery seemed to be tied to achieving notable events, rather than any natural recovery.  Thankfully, the <system> decided that some level ups were notable, but I had to be very judicious in their use going forward. 

With his neck free, Badgelor kicked it into fifth gear, and we continued to shuffle down the valley at his best possible speed.  Before us, the massive entrance beckoned.  As I looked up to the balcony, I could faintly see a few beings on a large terrace at the top.  I didn’t have any details, until I caught a flash of something in the rising moonlight.  The black armor was a dead giveaway.

“Faster, Badgelor,” I yelled. 

“Badger’s aren’t built for speed,” grumbled the badger, as we continued toward the base of the tower. 

Chapter 52 - Preparations

“I’ve finished,” grumbled Phillip, as he walked back from the Dungeon Core.  He was the only one with the Dungeon Master skill, so, of course, he had to activate the stupid dungeon.  The Dungeon Master had to do all the prep work, while everyone else just wasted time. Foolish adventurers were always making demands of their Dungeon Master.  Would it never end?

Now, all the monsters on the top four floors were good and pissed off.  The other floors were empty, or Phillip would have riled them up, as well.  If that didn’t delay Jim the Curious Puppy, he couldn’t think of what would.

Phillip tried hard to be amused by a man named Jim, but his sense of humor was failing him.  That badger was moving far faster than it should have been able to move.  They were going to get to the temple’s base before Su-Kar could get the summoning ritual started.  It was up to Phillip and the dungeon's vastly depleted forces to hold Jim off while the ceremony was completed. 

Hardragon, of course, didn’t respond.  Why would he?  He wasn’t the kind to give positive reinforcement.  Sighing, Phillip drew his bow and fingered his new arrows.  While he had nothing to do but wait, the Woodsman had taken the time to appropriately equip his weapons.  He had everything he needed to take on the asshole. 

“After he goes into the entrance, Phillip will be able to track him on the dungeon interface,” stated Twinkle.  Hardragon stood next to the elf, looking impressive. 

Phillip had to admit that when it came to looking like a badass, few could do a better job than Hardragon.  Phillip watched the Dragonsworn and realized he was wound tighter than a spring.  Trying to speak reassuringly, Phillip said, “Even if he breaks our record, and there were five of us going through, he will still take approximately thirty minutes per floor.  The summoning will be completed in an hour, and Su-Kar is hurrying.  She can be available in just a few minutes.  You are worried about nothing.”

As Jim and Badgelor got to the final stretch of road leading to the dungeon, Hardragon finally relented.  “Yes, this will be fine.  We’ll get the summoning performed and, when it’s all over, use the teleportation circle to get out of here.”

“We could fight him,” offered Phillip half-heartedly.

“After Julia’s done her little trick, I’m going to get paid,” said Twinkle, shrugging.  Glancing back over to Hardragon, he asked, “I am going to get paid, correct?”

Hardragon said nothing.  He wasn’t the paymaster.  Twinkle was going to have to take it up with the boss.   Phillip knew that the elf was looking for something more valuable than gold, because the boss paid out gold without a second thought.  Twinkle was noticeably quiet about what he was earning, but he was an elf.  Phillip figured that whatever the payment, it was hard to find and, most likely, silly.

Phillip rolled his eyes but agreed.  Everyone present was a Mercenary, except Hardragon.  Expecting much loyalty, beyond the handful of rules that the boss enforced, was futile.  The approaching adventurer’s equipment would be valuable, but Phillip wasn’t sure about fighting O’Really again.  Besides, Twinkle was an elf; they had their own ways of traveling the world.  As soon as his mission was over, Twinkle would vanish.  That mission did not include fighting Jim the Curious Puppy.

The only issue Phillip had with that arrangement was that Su-Kar would be upset.  She wanted to peel all the skin off Jim’s face, and she would be disappointed if she didn’t get her chance.

Phillip, Twinkle, and Hardragon watched Jim’s grand entrance from their high vantage point and waited. 

They had front row seats when their whole plan collapsed. 

***

“Ready,” I yelled, as Badgelor activated his amulet and leapt onto the side of the tower.  Whoever had built the temple did so with the intention of stopping casual climbers from ascending its heights.  More accurately, the structure's Durability was so high that climbing it was next to impossible, even if you were a War Badger.  Badgelor’s massive claws would not have gained purchase.   

However, Badgelor was a War Badger with an Amulet of Spider Climbing.  The badger hit the wall like a champ, and, for a terrible instant, I was afraid the magic wouldn’t work.  Thankfully, he got his feet steady and started scuttling up the side of the temple.  We were a good three stories up before the kidnappers figured out what to do. 

As the first arrow flashed toward me, I swatted it from the air with my sword.  I Dodged a second arrow, barbed with electricity, and it whizzed past my head.  The third arrow was going to be a problem, though.

“Explosive,” I yelled.

Badgelor’s head snapped up, and the arrow vanished inside his maw.  A few moments later, there was a popping sound.  Badgelor had tooted out the bomb. 

***

Twinkle looked at Phillip.  “Did he just swallow that?”

“He’s a damn War Badger,” Phillip groaned, “but don’t worry.  I’ve been saving something special for just such an occasion.”  He pulled out a nearly transparent arrow.  “Devil’s Glass, also known as the Assassin’s Arrow.  Let's see Jim spot this.”

Lining up the shot carefully, Phillip aimed right for the asshole’s eye socket.  He began pouring Stamina into the attack.  The Woodsman had been calculating this one for quite some time.  An invisible, Powerful Shot should knock Jim’s head clean off.  Phillip would have preferred an explosive variant, but Explosive Shot wouldn’t work on glass ammunition.  A Power Shot would have to do.  Su-Kar would be disappointed that she missed this.

The arrow vanished silently and shattered, as Jim’s sword smashed it to dust.  It had come just short of its intended target.  Phillip suddenly became aware of a cold feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

***

I yelled, “What the hell was that?” as fragments of glass started to pepper my skin.  Even the small shards of that arrow were enough to cause a minor bleeding effect where they scratched me.  I hadn’t even seen it coming.  My investment into Parry Anything was paying off in dividends. 

Also, feck you, Durg.

“Fifth floor,” stated Badgelor.  We continued charging up the side of the building. 

***

Phillip shot arrow after arrow, as the unstoppable force continued up the side of the temple.  Jim either knocked them aside effortlessly, or the badger took the hits without any noticeable Damage.  By the tenth arrow, the cold feeling in the pit of Phillip’s stomach had grown to encompass his entire body. 

Hardragon swallowed audibly, his throat still destroyed from his earlier double roar.  He was on double cooldown and couldn’t use that specific trait again for a week.   

Not a big deal.  It hadn’t worked anyway.

“We only need to stop him for an hour,” Hardragon hissed.  Phillip was already doing what he did best, and Twinkle was a melee combatant.  They needed more ranged support. 

Hardragon’s muscles tensed.  He reached over to the massive stone railing and pulled, activating his Rare Power Lift skill.  The stonework held for a moment, then shattered free.  The Dragonsworn grunted mightily and lifted a gigantic hunk of the multi-ton object. 

“Let's see him avoid this,” growled Hardragon.

***

I smashed another arrow.  Badgelor yelled, “Sixth floor!”

We continued scurrying up the side of the building, finally crossing the point where the temple stopped being straight up and down.  Now, we were at a very sharp angle that led to the rooftop.  Our opponents were on the overhanging balcony, only three stories above us, on what amounted to the roof of the temple.  I was thinking through my first attacks, when the sound of shattering stone hit me.

I looked up to see the massive stone railing around the balcony being torn free.  Hardragon seemed to be throwing it.  Well, I would really classify what he was doing as aggressively dropping it.  He had broken it from the structure and pushed it toward our direction. The thing with hand grenades and multi-ton chunks of stone is that 100 percent accuracy isn’t necessary. 

The U-shaped structure bounced off the slanted roof once, before falling straight toward us. 

“Badgelor!” I yelled, standing up on his back, despite the nearly straight fall behind me.

“Not happening,” Badgelor yelled back, trying and failing to move out of the stone’s trajectory.  It continued bouncing down the steep facade.  For the barest of instants, I thought my new Powerful Parry skill would help.  The problem with skills was that you instinctively knew when they would not work.  The boulder was just too large.

Boulder?

I ran up Badgelor’s back and launched myself toward the railing.  Holding my fist out, I screamed, “Railing, No Baka!”

·         Would you like to place this Exquisite Stone Railing into your dimensional storage? <Yes/No>?

I felt the hard stone on my knuckles, before it began to squish like clay.  The entire chunk of structure folded and pulled into my dimensional storage, vanishing into motes of Mana.

There was no time to feel a sense of relief, though, because an arrow slammed into my shoulder.

***

“Idiot,” stated Phillip, drawing another arrow.  The Remort jerked backward, grabbing hold of the damn badger with his functional hand.  “You don’t just cast magic like that.  It interrupts your Stamina-based defenses.” 

“That looked super impressive, though,” said Twinkle with a grin.  Phillip grinned back.

“That it did,” he nodded.  Elves were weird, but they were the good kind of weird. 

“What type of arrow?” hissed Hardragon.  At least, that’s what Phillip guessed he said.  It made the most logical sense, but it was hard to tell.  Hardragon sounded like he was chewing rocks and gargling glass.

“Ebon wood,” replied Phillip.  “It probably went straight through his shoulder, and I coated the entire shaft with poison.  If he’s tough enough, he might not lose the arm, but he’s not going to be using it for the rest of the fight.”

“Check your logs,” hissed Hardragon.

“He’s hard to read.  All I have is that I hit him,” stated Phillip.  That was new.  Typically, Phillip had an excellent idea of exactly how hard he had hit a target.  In Jim’s case, all he knew, for sure, was that he had hit him.

“He has Regeneration,” stated Twinkle.

“And I have Brirebane and Stiffroot,” grinned Phillip.  Twinkle grinned wickedly.  Brirebane was a good, old-fashioned poison that didn’t cause that much Poison Damage.  It was used in Falcon more for its secondary characteristic.  It prevented all forms of Magical healing for up to fifteen minutes.

Stiffroot, in comparison, was much less dramatic.  It only paralyzed a limb.  That meant that Jim’s right arm, currently pointing toward the sky, would remain in that position for an hour or more.  All in all, that shot should all but guarantee that the Remort withdrew. 

It was highly likely that O’Really had healing potions on him, but the arrow should have vastly reduced his offensive capabilities.  Furthermore, while he might have Damage healing potions, it was far less likely that he had poison treatments.  Wound-clearing potions would also be required, since Phillip had crippled his Magical healing.   

Phillip’s smile faded, as the badger crossed the seventh floor.  Of course, there was always the possibility that he would keep coming at them, as determined as the damn War Badger he was riding. 

“Get Su-Kar,” growled Hardragon.

***

“I can’t move my freaking arm,” I hissed to Badgelor, as I yanked the arrow from my shoulder.  Only the arrowhead and an inch of the shaft had penetrated, yet my arm was on fire.  It was also locked up, pointing directly toward the sky.

●   You are poisoned: Brirebane, Magical healing restricted for 2 minutes, 40 seconds.

●   You are poisoned: Stiffroot, Your right arm is paralyzed for 1 minute, 20 seconds. 

It was a good thing I hadn’t gotten the full dose.  Paralysis meant something different on Ordinal than it did on Earth.  On Earth, my paralyzed arm would have been hanging limply at my side.  On Ordinal, my arm was rigidly locked into the position it had been in when struck. Since I had been Superman punching the railing with my sword still in hand when I was hit, the poison had locked my arm skyward.

Mitigate and Ignore Injury were both noncompatible with resisting poisons.  Only my Poisoner perk, armor, and my Resist Poison skill were helping.  At least I was earning some Skill Points. 

“One more floor, and then we are on the roof,” I stated, far less confident in my ability to take on three trained adventurers without the use of my right arm.  I growled and bit down on some healroot.  Aside from the poison, I’d taken 31 points of Damage from that arrow.

Suddenly, a blast of magical lightning flashed down from the rooftop.  Su-Kar appeared over the edge. 

“So much for her guarding the princess,” I said.  Badgelor leapt straight into the magical stream.  Due to his massive magic resistance, it mostly ran off him, like water off a duck’s back.   

“Ha, girly doesn’t know who she’s dealing with,” stated Badgelor.  His eyes began to glow purple, as I fed him Mana.  Without the railing, the enemy adventurers were far more exposed.  Badgelor didn’t go all in on the attack, though.  We both wanted to save some Mana for healing.  He put in just enough for shooting a powerful blast, just as Su-Kar’s second spell, a fire blast, rushed toward us.

Both blasts met in the middle.  Of course, Badgelor’s Destructive Gaze won, blowing through the lesser Elemental magic like wet tissue paper.  That’s when I saw the elf.  Twinkle was in a downward crescent heel kick, flying through the streams of magic.  They parted for him like the Red Sea, as he raced toward us. 

“Spell Cleaving Kick,” yelled Twinkle, using Aerial Control to push himself through an impossible twist and onto the eighth story balcony.  He proceeded to run into the dungeon. 

“Fecking Monks,” growled Badgelor, as more arrows started raining down on us.  One slammed into Badgelor’s left, front paw.  Suddenly, our forward progress slowed considerably.  “Fecking archers!”

Su-Kar was yelling and pointing at Badgelor, while Phillip lined up another shot.  Their archer couldn’t fire too many arrows with enough force behind them to penetrate Badgelor’s hide.  However, he could do it enough that it was a problem.  Before I had a new plan worked out, he hit Badgelor’s other front paw. 

They had figured out a tactic that worked.  We were in trouble.  I glanced around desperately for somewhere to go.  I looked for any place that an archer couldn’t reach us.  Finally, I spotted an accessible, hidden part to the balcony that Twinkle had just disappeared from.

“Shrink,” I yelled, leaping off Badgelor’s head.  For once, Badgelor complied.  His form began to shrink down, as I got my whip out.  Using my Aerial Control, I changed the direction of my jumping path and made the impossible leap onto the eighth story balcony.  I quickly twisted around to whip at Badgelor.

I had invested a single Talent Point into the Bind Weapon Master talent, which allowed me to wrap Badgelor up and pull him toward me.  I landed on both feet with enough force to engage Mitigate.  Badgelor slammed onto my back with a thunk.

Activating Hide in Plain Sight, I moved quickly out of the door frame and began scanning for the elf.  I found him fairly fast.  When I’d landed, he had been resting on the floor.  Now, he was up, scanning around for me. 

His eyes glowed brown for a moment.  Then, he spun to face me, noting that my sword was still held rigidly in my frozen fist above my head.  “Well, Jim, it seems you got a bit too curious.”

My whip shot out and grabbed him around the wrist.  Before he had a chance to react, I cracked it, sending a massive wave down the thick strip of leather.  Twinkle realized his predicament.  His arm slammed into the floor, and the energy of the wave sent him spinning through the air. 

The elf twisted my whip off himself and landed on both feet.  I struck at the elf again.  This time, Twinkle was expecting it and danced backward.

“You seem to have increased your proficiency with your whip since the last time we fought,” stated the elf, all signs of levity gone.  I reached into my pouch, pulled out my wad of healroot, and placed a piece in my mouth.

“I reckon,” I replied.  It felt appropriate, as I had a mouth full of chew and a whip. 

The elf frowned.  “So, you hang around with orcs?  How appropriate.”

“Elves still hate orcs,” I thought.

“Duh,” replied Shart.

“Ancient rivalry, right?  Elves lose their sacred land to the orcs?  Their god took the orc’s god’s eye?” I questioned.

“No, elves cannot pull off ten-gallon hats.  They view any race that wears hats better than them an anathema,” replied Shart.

Twinkle adjusted his stance.  When he was ready to attack, I began to use my Counterspell skill.  Unfortunately, that was exactly what he was waiting for me to do.  I felt the stance end almost instantly, as Twinkle damn near magically materialized next to me.  He was executing a flurry of kicks that were designed to get under my guard. 

One moment, I was standing.  In the next moment, I was on my ass, skidding across the floor.  I flipped back to my feet and activated Flash Steps to get some distance.  Twinkle knew that trick, as well.  The elf was on me, before I’d even fully reappeared. 

He landed a powerful kick to my side, before going in for a foot sweep.  I hopped over it easily.  When Twinkle came back up, I executed my special attack, Badger Fist.

“Feck you,” hollered Badgelor, as I flung him into Twinkle’s face.  Fortunately, yelling at me had left his mouth open, and he bit down hard on Twinkle’s cheek.  The Monk drove a fist into Badgelor’s belly, which caused him to open his jaw.  Badgelor’s small form went flying into the air, but it was of little consequence.  I had gotten my distance.

Using my whip, I executed Hack and Slash.  My first strike caught Badgelor and redirected him toward my shoulder.  The other four strikes I made against the elf.

It didn’t do that much Damage, but the critical point of a whip isn’t to kill someone.  The point is to hurt who you are hitting.  All four of my strikes got through, leaving thick, jagged welts on the elf.  He cried out, as the final strike latched around his throat.  I yanked the elf toward me and executed a Basstown Headbutt, which sent him flying backward. 

Twinkle landed in a roll and was back on his feet in a heartbeat.  He moved smartly out of my whip’s range.  His appraising look faltered, though, as my frozen arm suddenly loosened up and came down to my side. 

“It seems we are at an impasse,” I stated, stepping toward him and pulling out another piece of healroot. 

“No, human, I have you right where I want you,” replied the elf with a grand bow.  I took another step toward him, but he expertly danced away.

“You might need to explain that a bit,” I stated, allowing the healroot to kick in a bit more.

“Well, it seems like you are too much for me, but I am too fast for you,” replied the elf, with a questioning eyebrow.  I nodded.  “However, if I can’t take you, I have another strategy that will certainly work.  I’m going to run.”

“Running away?” I asked.

“No, I’ll be running to every monster on this floor.  Every one of them will chase me, and I’ll bring them all right back here,” stated the elf.  “You can either stay here and die fighting monsters or jump out the balcony and die fighting the rest of my party.”

“I could just nab you with the whip and fling you out the balcony,” I said.  There was a slight wrinkle in the elf’s expression.  Twinkle didn’t consider that as unlikely as he was letting on.  We both stood in silence while our cooldowns expired.  I pulled out another piece of healroot and started chewing it. 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” stated the elf, “Where did you find that healroot?”

“Around,” I said, looking at him curiously.  He frowned. “Would you like some?”

He snorted.  “Good try, but no.  I do follow the customs, you know.  I’m not going to take healing from someone I’m trying to kill.”

“Had to try,” I bluffed.  I wasn’t going to give Twinkle anything, anyway.  That would be stupid.  I certainly wasn’t going to do it for free.  “You don’t seem too committed to this group.  Are you a Mercenary?”

He shuddered slightly.  “I do not like that term, but yes.  In your primitive human language, I supposed that would be correct.”

“I could give you some healroot if you just leave,” I said.

The elf laughed at that.  “I doubt you could afford me.”

“Try me.  I’m curious,” I responded.

The elf rolled his eyes.  “I suppose you could bribe me for the low, low price of 500 healroot.  I assume you don’t have such a princely sum with you.”

That wasn’t even half my supply.  I opened my dimensional storage, which caused Twinkle to step back defensively.  I tossed out a brick of 100 healroot, complete with the Windfall stamp on them.  I stepped back and gestured at it.

The elf looked at it for a long moment, like a drug addict looking at a massive score.  Then, he snatched it up, swearing at himself.  “Clever, I have taken your healing.  By the code, I can no longer do battle with you.”

“So, why did you take it?” I asked.

“Because my employer is very late on her payments.  My people desperately need healroot to survive a plague that is ravishing us,” replied Twinkle.  “I have been out in Falcon for six months, searching for healroot.  I’ve barely found thirty pieces.”

“So, do you want the other 400?” I questioned, holding up four more blocks.

“I already took one brick.  I cannot fight you, anymore,” stated the elf miserably.

“So?  Your people are dying,” I replied, tossing the bricks at Twinkle’s feet.   He looked at me even more confused.  I added, “This is what real adventurers do.”

He snatched up the blocks, his eyes boggling at the quantity of thick, healthy healroot.  He might have even been crying.  Finally, Twinkle spoke.  “I will depart this place. You shall not see me again.  Know that I will call you an elf buddy, should we ever meet again.”

“Any idea how I can get to the next floor without fighting the boss, buddy?” I asked.

Twinkle wrinkled his nose while he considered that.  “There is a hidden stairwell, near the boss room.”

I nodded at him and activated Hide in Plain Sight, vanishing into the dungeon.  Once I was well-hidden, I took a moment to look back into the room.  Twinkle was indeed crying over the plants 

Chapter 53 - The Badger, The Lich, and the Coffin

I strolled into the dungeon, hidden from the remaining monsters with my Shadow Meld ability.  The monsters on this floor seemed to mostly be the undead variety, and I had to be somewhat careful to avoid them.  I stealthily angled through the passages toward the back of the temple. 

“The ritual is progressing slowly,” stated Shart.

“Is she doing it right?” I asked, concerned.

“Well, she at least got the first part correct.  After that, the summoning began going downhill,” replied Shart.  I groaned.  “Should I have mentioned that earlier?”

“You are the worst,” stated Badgelor.

I tucked behind a section of wall while a half dozen level 32 skeletons walked past me, totally unaware of my presence.  I gave them a good once over and decided that I had better things to do than fight my way through them.

“How much longer until Julia finishes the ritual?” I asked, watching the skeletons turn a corner and vanish from my sight.  Badgelor and I continued deeper into the dungeon.

“About 20 minutes to complete the Ritual of Questioning,” stated Shart, “if she doesn’t screw it up any more than she just did.”

“What happens if she messes up too badly?” I asked, fully expecting to hate the answer.

“Um, let us not discuss that,” replied Shart.  He was making little pained noises as we carried on.  “She is horrible at this.”

“Could it be the collar?” I asked.  It would suck if the blasted thing forced her to summon Shart incorrectly.

“Maybe she’s summoning the wrong demon intentionally,” stated Badgelor.  He rotated his head behind us and tapped me on the shoulder.  I cursed and slid behind a pillar, as a massive undead creature that looked a bit like the Gibbering Hulk walked past me. 

“These things should be staying in their rooms,” I growled.

“I think their Dungeon Master has it in for you,” said Badgelor.  “He’s sending out grudge monsters to find and kill you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I hissed, using Flash Steps to skip past another creature.  Suddenly my Explorer’s Nose started to twitch, and I caught the scent of a treasure chest nearby. 

“What are you doing?” asked Badgelor, as I abruptly changed direction.

“Treasure,” I replied, and he grew quiet.  One thing that was uniform on Ordinal was that everyone liked treasure to an abnormal degree.

We crept into a small room with a large chest in the middle.  Around it were all the trappings of some tomb of horrors, including a coffin that had some powerful undead resting in it.

“What’s in the coffin?” I asked, as Shart pondered.

“Um, a lich, I think?  Hold on, Julia’s doing something weird,” stated Shart distractedly.  Part of me wanted to rush upstairs to help Julia, but more of me wanted to live.  Any additional gear could be useful, and I was extremely hopeful for the treasure I was about to receive. 

I reached the chest and produced a lock pick.  Examining the lock, I saw that it was deeply cut into the stone and covered in arcane runes and gold foil.  It was also magically sealed. 

“You have to kill the monster,” said Badgelor impatiently, before I could figure out what was going on.  I looked over at the crypt and considered my options.  I didn’t have time for a fight, but I always had time for treasure.  Then, it hit me.

“Badgelor, go full-size and sit on the lid,” I stated. 

Badgelor hopped down, expanded to Ultimate Badger form, and plopped his fat ass on top of the crypt.  Whatever magic held the coffin shut faded in an instant.

A loud voice boomed, “Who dares to defile the crypt of the mighty N’evzuu, the Unliving? Your souls are forfeit to my hellish desires!”

There was a loud popping sound, and a jet of ancient dust blew from the seam where the lid met the base of the coffin.  That was quickly followed by a few thumping sounds and constipated, undead grunting.  Badgelor looked at me and dug his claws into the coffin.  That lid wasn’t going anywhere. 

I rechecked the chest.  Shit, still locked. 

Walking over to the crypt, I decided it was just too grand to be a coffin. I heard a few more thumps near Badgelor’s head.  Nodding to myself, I walked over to the other side.

“Dig your claws in and slide this thing forward about a foot,” I said. 

“Won’t he get out?” replied Badgelor.

“Naa,” I replied, drawing my sword.

Badgelor shrugged and slid the coffin lid forward just far enough to expose a pair of struggling feet.  They were trying in vain to kick their way free.  Executing Hack and Slash paired with a Smite, I removed both of them. 

The undead screamed, and the thrashing grew worse.

“How dare you strike at N’evzuu, the Unliving!  You shall be punished for this!”

“Bet you can’t slide it forward another foot,” I said to the amused badger.

Badgelor grinned.  The lid moved another foot, exposing the creature up to the knees.  I repeated my earlier strike, removing the creature's shins.  If you’ve never seen a lich kicking its stump legs up and down while yelling obscenities, it is a sight to behold.  With his legs removed, the lich’s hands reached down to pull itself out of the coffin. 

“Do you think this is a sarcophagus or a crypt or what?” I asked.

“You are in a crypt, Dum Dum.  That is a sarcophagus,” replied Shart.

“Hardly, just look at it!  Barely any gold, and the engraving isn’t all that grand. This is just a stone coffin,” stated Badgelor.

I made several quick slashes with my blade and cut off the hands and the lower part of its now exposed pelvis.  “It has to be a sarcophagus.  I mean, it's a lich. They have to have some degree of sophistication.”

When my Hack and Slash came off cooldown, I asked Badgelor to move again. This time I got some ribs and its spine.  I also managed to reach in and pull out its magical staff.  It was a bit tricky to pull out entirely with the amount of space available, but I carefully managed it.  After all, I didn’t want to hurt the poor thing. 

“Check this out.  This is a nice magical staff,” I said, looking the rod over.  It was nearly five feet tall and covered in sigils and runes.  There was an intricately mounted skull on the top.  “What kind of skull is that?”

“Squirrel,” replied Badgelor, “Large one, too.  Those are good eating.”

“I was expecting something eviler,” I said.  “Still looks neat.”

“Eviler is not a word,” said Shart.  “You are looking for more evil.”

“N’evzuu, the Unliving will destroy you,” the lich hissed. 

“Hey, take the compliment on your eviler things,” I said smartly, and Shart groaned.  I placed the staff into my dimensional storage.  Then, I had Badgelor move the coffin lid again.

This time, I managed to get all the way up to the shoulders.  Badgelor was having an issue keeping the lid from falling, given how wide the coffin was now open.  It didn’t matter anymore.  By the time I had pulverized ninety percent of the lich, it couldn’t do anything other than angrily stare at me. 

“You will feel the wrath of N’evzuu, the Unliving,” it hissed at me.  I pulled the head up by its bizarre headdress.

“What the hell kind of name is N’evzuu?” I groaned, looking deeply into its eyes.  Of course, the lich tried to mind control me, and, of course, it failed.  I glanced at my Mental Resistance Skill Points slowly ticking up and shook my head.  “Well, that’s going to take forever.”

“I will not be mocked,” hissed the lich.

“I will not be mocked,” I imitated at Badgelor.

The badger chuckled, “Oh, no, how terrifying.  What the hell is on its head?”

The lich’s bare skull was covered in a massive headdress of blue and gold fabric.  It would have extended halfway down its back, if it still had one.  The headdress used a form of soft, quality silk that had withstood however long the lich had existed in that container. 

I tied the headdress to my belt and walked back over to the chest.  It was still locked.

“You aren’t going to be much of anything, unless you open up this chest,” I stated.

“I am immortal!  My life force will reset if my physical form is destroyed,” spat the lich.

“Badgelor, he has a phylactery,” I said, glancing around the room and sniffing loudly. 

“Do you really think he’d be stupid enough to put it in this room?” asked Badgelor. 

“I mean, yes,” I said, gesturing at the coffin.  “N’evzuu is clearly not that bright.”

“I can’t argue that,” grumbled Badgelor, who also started sniffing around. 

“I shall destroy you,” hissed the lich.  I jammed some excess headdress into the undead’s mouth, just enough to stop it from speaking.  I covered its eyes as well, because they were kind of creepy.  In case anyone was wondering, yes, I tied its headdress into a bow to cover its eyes.  It looked cute.

Apparently, Ordinal thought that was enough of a defeat.  The magical lock on the chest faded, and I opened the trunk and grinned.  Loot!

●   237 gold pieces

●   Ring of the Ram: A Magical Ring that send your targets reeling backwards.

●   Shield of Dark Vision: Grants you dark vision

I picked up the medium, square shield and looked about.  It was rather dark in the crypt, but just holding the shield didn’t seem to do anything.  I used the shield to bonk the lich’s skull and noticed that I could see a small square of light.  Pulling up the shield to my eyes, I realized what the effect meant. 

I could see through the shield from behind.  When you looked through the shield, everything appeared as if you were looking through a high-quality, night vision camera.  Flipping it over, I couldn’t see through the other side.  It was a one-way night vision shield.  That was handy. 

I slid on the Ring of the Ram and began channeling Mana into it.  Like most magical items, it could passively draw from my Mana network.  Since I had Mana Control, I could also dump power into it directly for a faster recharge.  It took a good thirty seconds to power the ring up, which caused the little gemstones in the ram’s eyes to glow blue.  

Badgelor spat something at my feet.  It was a massively ornate jar that had been hidden behind a piece of stone.  “The lich checked it fairly often.  Its smell is all over it.”

I unwrapped the headdress from the lich and showed it the jar.  The creature’s eyes went wide.  “You can’t do this!  I’m immortal.”

Unscrewing the top, I looked in.  There was an assortment of mummified bits of whatever the lich had been in its former life.  I sucked in some snot, preparing a juicy loogie. “Before I do this, I hear there is a hidden door somewhere.”

“I know where it is.  I will show you,” hissed the lich.

“Neat.”

Chapter 54 - Never Give Up

“Well, this is much easier,” I said, as we strolled through the remaining undead.  With the lich in tow, they seemed to be more inclined than not to leave us alone.  Ever since we’d grabbed the lich, the number of other creatures we’d encountered had dropped significantly.  I wondered what the Dungeon Master thought.  As he was sending all the grudge monsters searching for us, did he believe the lich was still searching for us, as well.

“Jim, we have a problem,” said Shart.

“What now?” I sighed, as we walked past the boss room.  I spared a moment to look in and spotted some type of massive skeletal war beast.  I was imagining a tricked-out, two-horned rhinoceros; a massive creature that had brass caps on all its bones and a glowing void vortex where the horns met. 

“She’s not trying to summon me,” stated Shart.

“Clever girl, is Julia just going through the motions or something?” I asked consideringly. “Julia is smart. She might have realized someone is coming to save her, so she’s stalling.”

“That is not what is happening, you total buffoon!  She is doing the Ritual of Bonding,” stated Shart.

“She’s trying to bond with you?” I gasped, suddenly jealous.  I realized that it was a strange emotion to have for what amounted to the forced partnership that Shart and I shared, but there it was.

“Yes, and I’m here in limbo. I’m back up to my full strength.  If Julia bonds with me, I’m going to completely overpower her,” stated Shart.

Shart was, strangely, totally against that for reasons that could be best described as lazy.  He didn’t like having to move a human body around, which is what he’d have to do if he mentally overpowered Julia. 

“How close is she?” I asked, as we found the spot on the wall where the stairwell was.  I probably could have found the stairwell on my own quickly enough, given how badly my Explorer’s Nose was twitching. 

“Julia has nearly finished,” hissed the demon.  That got my attention.  I flipped open the secret doorway.

“Stall her.  I’ll be right there,” I said.

***

“Stall her,” thought Shart, as he materialized in the massive, circular room.  “How the hell do I stall a human?”

“Sir,” stated Julia.  She was hideous, with stringy brown hair, those substantial fatty lumps on her chest, and only two eyes.  There wasn’t a pincher to be seen anywhere.  Even considering all his time with Jim and his merry gang of morons, Shart still hated how humans looked.  He tried not to gag, but it was hard.  The only upshot was that Julia knew how to address him.

“Yes,” stated Shart.  To his amazement, his voice was a deep bass that caused the nearby stone to vibrate.  He spared a moment to look down at his massive, clawed fist, his perfect red skin.  He was normal.  Even in Limbo, he’d been stuck in his annoying, shoulder demon form.  However, getting summoned forced him to be shunted through the tower, restoring him to his usual power level after all these long decades.  Well, in human terms, like a month.  When you operated at a 200 to 1 timescale, a month seemed like decades. “What do you seek, mortal?”

“I wish to bond with you,” she said confidently.

Shart laughed, the stones that made up the entire building trembling.  Stall, schmall, I’ll just scare her off and then wait for Jim.  “I see you do not understand the gravity of your request. If I bond with you, your life force, your essence, and your soul will be consumed!”

“I have been led to understand that if I bond with you, Sir,” she said, retaining all her previous confidence, “You are required to fulfill whatever request I make in the process.”

“That is true.  I would be bound to comply with whatever goal you chose to forfeit your existence for,” replied Shart, no longer confident that she would decide to run off.

“I will trade my soul for you to destroy the Dark Overlord,” she proclaimed. 

Shart paused for a long moment.  Damn it, damn it, damn it!  All I had to do was wait a freaking month in meat-time, and I wouldn’t have felt compelled to go along with that stupid plan to summon Jim at all.  Nooo, <Mike> gets impatient, and what do I do?  I jump the gun.  It's these foolish mortals!  They bring out the worst in me.

“What you say has merit,” stated Shart, quickly thinking through his options.  The <admins> had laid out the rules for demonic intervention in the material world, and those rules specifically precluded Shart from acting directly against anyone.  He’d have to train her to defeat the Dark Overlord.

A member of the Falconian Royal House wasn’t a terrible choice, as far as things went.  Her bloodline had a powerful trait that would allow her to do a pretty solid job, and, if she took the training seriously, she would be a great candidate.  If <Mike> hadn’t already spent all the resources to summon Jim, she would be an ideal choice.

However, even the remarkable trait of the rulers of Falcon wasn’t anything compared to UnBound.  It wasn’t just that Jim could learn any class, either.  He could achieve Max Level quickly by hitting a lower level in multiple classes.  For Shart, that meant getting back to the tower much faster than if he had to train a ‘normal’ adventurer.  That made his decision very easy. 

“You will have to complete the Oath,” stated Shart, remembering the longest and most sacred Oath he could remember.  “It’s the greatest of Oaths.  Will you do this for me?”

“Yes, Master,” she said.  Master was one of Shart’s favorite words.  Alas, he would have to stall.

“You know the rules, and so do I.  You must promise...” began Shart.

Chapter 55 - Top Floor

We crept out the tunnel right next to the Dungeon Core.  Behind the Core, I could see the stairwell that we should have taken to get here.  I looked at the Core and then glanced over to Badgelor.

“You have to defeat the dungeon,” stated Badgelor.

“Avoiding all the major monsters should count,” I grumped.

“It doesn’t,” stated the badger.  We continued sneaking onto the roof of the ruined temple.  Aside from the large chamber that contained the Dungeon Core, there was a raised platform that extended out into the open air.

“That looks like a landing spot for a helicopter,” I said.

“Helicopter?  That’s a stupid word,” stated Badgelor.  “It's the teleportarium for the site.  It has to be within the magical interference zone of the Dungeon Core.”

“Seems closer than the one under Windfall Castle,” I mentioned, as we kept moving.  There was a second cluster of buildings on the roof that was much smaller.  Given what I could see of the rest of the rooftop, the summoning circle had to be in one of those. 

As we stepped out onto the short path connecting the structures, I spotted Phillip and Su-Kar moving at a fair pace.  Hardragon stepped out from behind them.  I gripped my sword tighter, as Hardragon began gasping out orders.

“Hip and aye hill hard the war,” he mumbled.  I glanced over to Badgelor.

“Phillip and I will guard the Core,” whispered Badgelor.

“How the hell can you tell what he's saying?” I asked.

“You all have nearly incomprehensible accents,” replied the badger.  “I’ve had plenty of centuries to learn how to decipher most of them.”

Sigh.

Su-Kar turned and headed off toward the smaller cluster of buildings, while Phillip and Hardragon ran past me into the Core room.  After they passed, I crept on, following Su-Kar.  She walked in a dignified strut until she glanced over her shoulder, making sure the two men were elsewhere.  As Phillip and Hardragon vanished into the Dungeon Core room, Su-Kar lifted her robe's hem and ran at top speed toward the summoning circle.

“Why is there so much magic coming from the summoning room?” Su-Kar hissed.

With no one watching, I was able to move quickly.  I found Su-Kar standing just outside the summoning room.  It was about the size of a football arena and was currently radiating with Demonic Energy.  She was staring, wide-eyed, at the massive, twelve-foot-tall demonic creature in the very center of the room.  My Lore skill helpfully identified it.

●   <Kevin>, Elder Demon

●   Alias: Shart

It was the small things that made everything worthwhile.  I stood next to Su-Kar, who’s expression had shifted from puzzlement to concern.  That concern quickly turned to outright horror, as she watched Shart bob around inside the center of the circle.  Dropping my Stealth, I patted her on the shoulder.  She looked over at me, her eyes getting impossibly wider.  I smiled.

●   Basstown Headbutt: You have caused 31 Damage.  The target is flung 10 Logs.

I could apply Powerful Blows to Basstown Headbutts, using my Weapon Master talent.  Neat.  Su-Kar went flying into the nearby wall, slamming into it with bone-crushing force.  She slumped down and was quite still. 

Julia was screaming out, “I will never make you cry.  I will never say goodbye!”

“Excellent,” stated Shart smugly.  “I think we might need to go over that last bit again, though.  I think your inflection was off.  When you said desert, I thought you meant dessert and were going to steal my snacks.”

“What?” screamed Julia.  “That’s the third time!  I’ve given you my oath.”

“It’s just that, maybe, you could sing the oath?” began Shart.  “It just always felt like the kind of thing someone should sing unexpectedly.”

“Julia,” I yelled, stepping into the room. 

She spun to look at me in astonishment.  “O’Really, you’re alive?”

“It takes more than a shout capable of shattering stones and an entire temple falling on me to finish me off,” I said with confidence.

Suddenly, an arrow slammed into my foot, driving through my boot and into the stone below.  I was pinned in place.  A moment later, two magical chains erupted from the ground, attaching themselves to my wrists and pulling me to the floor.  Hardragon stepped out, Phillip and Su-Kar in tow.  He was clapping gently.

As Hardragon walked past me and toward Julia, he waved his hand.  I realized something and asked, “Is he talking?”

Phillip, realizing the issue, ran past me and over to Hardragon.  After a moment, Hardragon’s head bowed, and he aimed his helmet at Phillip's head.

“You think you’ve got the best of me,” stated Phillip, standing in for Hardragon, “But I, Hardragon, saw through your plan instantly!”

Hardragon became more animated, so Phillip continued.  “I realized that Jim here was secretly going to sneak through the dungeon below.  I sent the crafty Su-Kar, who was using the False Life spell, on ahead.  When Jim ‘killed’ her, she was, in reality, protected by a spell.  The magic minimized Damage but left her seemingly unconscious.  Then, I had my helpful associate watch her back, like Phillip always does.” Phillip turned to speak to Julia.  “That meant that the instant your bodyguard, Jim, went to your aid, I knew right where he was,” finished Phillip.  By this point, Hardragon was shaking his head and had knelt next to me.

“Hyu poot up a hood fight,” he hissed.  Now that I was closer and had more time to analyze his voice's tatters, I could pick out some words.  Hardragon drew his sword and gathered energy for a strike, so I didn’t have any more time to play.

“You forgot one thing,” I said, straining at my chains.

“Enlighten me,” stated Hardragon, bringing his face in close.

“No one fucks with the mayor of Noobtown,” I growled into his ear. 

The sound of a metal circlet bouncing off of teeth rang through the room.  I yanked hard on the magical chains.  Now that Su-Kar was distracted, using my Counterspell skill broke them easily.  I managed to get my sword in place just in time for a Powerful Block that knocked Hardragon off balance. 

“Feck you,” stated Badgelor, opening his mouth and finishing his meal by dropping the key into it.  You could almost hear the plunk as it landed in his stomach.  A furious Julia rubbed the spot on her neck where the collar constraining her powers used to sit. She smiled wickedly, the lich’s staff in her hands already glowing a wicked green color.  

“Now witness the firepower of this fully armed and operational Zealot,” she yelled, holding up the staff in both hands and mouthing a prayer.  The space at the staff’s tip began to distort as she prayed. 

Hardragon took one look at her and noped right out, diving to the left.  It didn’t matter; I realized her intended target was not him but Su-Kar.  Then again, she did look pissed, so I dove away to the right.  Su-Kar, being a bit quicker on the draw, already had a spell of her own ready.  In an instant, both women exchanged blasts.  The energy met in the middle in an intense shower of magical sparks.

I flipped over the blast, landing next to Hardragon with my sword drawn.  “Miss me?”

Not wasting any time, Hardragon came in swinging.  I used my shield to block the first two blows before attempting a counter slash.  He was wielding his sword two-handed, but it was just a hand longer than my own.  My shield should have given me an advantage. 

He got under the strike and slashed up under my guard.  I could dodge away to avoid the worst of it, but he still managed to shave 17 Hit Points off my Health bar.  He wasn’t an Expert Swordsman. He was at the Advanced rank, which was one rank higher than my Expert. 

Hardragon tried to follow up, but I blocked the next strike with my shield and then ran the whole mess into him, forcing him backward.  My ability to see through the shield paid off instantly, as he attempted to go for my leg.  I could see him, so as he began to move.  I leaped over the strike and landed a glancing blow on his shoulder, before I landed behind him.

He had already turned to face me as I landed, and I executed a Hack and Slash, adding in Quick Strikes for good measure.  I landed 8 shots, for all the good it did me.  Hack and Slash was a multi-attack.  It allowed me to hit a target very well, assuming no one else was nearby.  It didn’t do attacks versus armor very well, and Hardragon was so heavily armored that my repeated lighter strikes didn’t do much of anything against his magical steel.  If I squinted, I thought I could see places where it wasn’t as shiny anymore, though. 

That was something they didn’t show on TV very much.  Usually, the guy wearing plate mail goes running up to the hero, who swings his blade at the guy's chest, instantly killing him.  In reality, that weak-ass slash will glance right off the armor, leaving the guy with a bruise, if you are lucky.

I hit much more powerfully than anyone on a TV show, but Hardragon didn’t seem to mind even those blows.  He executed a Felling Strike, and I leapt backward to avoid it.  He followed it with a second strike, called a Badger Felling Strike. 

Hardragon had perfectly timed his attack.  I could sense each defense method I had would fail.  I was off-balance, my sword was out of position, and my shield simply wouldn’t absorb that much Damage.

I had one more option.  Using one of my two remaining Force Points, I activated my Perfect Dodge and sidestepped the attack.  I had not realized how difficult it was to replenish Force Points before.  Now, spending one hurt me in a spiritual sense.   In the physical sense, it got me away from Hardragon’s lethal attack.

Instead, I danced to the side and smacked into something red and scaly.

Hardragon had forced me into the summoning ring with Shart.  The demon looked at me with one eyeball and said, “Ah-ha, mortal, invading the summoning circle where I can get at you.  Now, you are …doomed?”

He followed that up with a relatively slow swing of his clawed fist, allowing me to leap out of the circle, straight back at Hardragon.  While he was confused as to why the demon hadn’t gutted me, he was still ready to kill me where I landed.

Next, I executed a Falling Star Strike, as Hardragon raised his sword to perform something called a Rising Dragon Slash. 

I remember there being an explosion.  I know I hit the ceiling of the room, but that would have been obvious from the Jim-sized dent where my helmet resided.  Shaking my head, I picked up my shield and sword from the ground.  For a moment, I wondered where everyone was.  Someone should still be trying to kill me.

“Hurry up,” hissed Shart, while trying to appear omnipotent.  “I don’t have much time.”

“Can’t I just do the bond now?” I asked.

“No, it takes nearly a minute.  You’d be a sitting duck.  Kill him fast,” stated Shart.

Julia was busy trying to kill Su-Kar, and I recognized her problem right away.  Julia was a Zealot, and her build was mostly healing and support.  Su-Kar was a Sorcerer. They were mainly a Damage-dealing class.

It was like watching a boxer going up against a street fighter that fought very dirty.  Julia could win if she managed to grind Su-Kar down.  Su-Kar was doing everything in her power to prevent such an outcome. 

That’s when I heard an ear-splitting scream, as Badgelor and Hardragon clashed in the middle of the room.  The sight of mighty Badgelor squaring off against Hardragon, his long hair flowing behind him, was burned into my memory, as was the sound of Badgelor’s scream.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked Shart.

“Badgers and dragons are natural enemies,” stated Shart.  “Hardragon is a Dragonsworn.  He’s probably trained his whole life to kill War Badgers.”

“Badgelor fights dragons?” I asked.

“Duh, lots of times,” replied Shart.  “Though, it does not appear he will for much longer.”

I couldn’t get over there in time.  Searching the field, I saw my only opportunity.  “Julia, protect Badgelor!  I have Su-Kar.”

Julia nearly protested.  However, watching Badgelor being dominated by Hardragon broke her out of her rage.  She nodded to me.  Instantly, a radiant golden barrier surrounded Badgelor’s neck, denying Hardragon a killing blow.

I charged Su-Kar, who grinned and started casting spells.  The ruined ground beneath my feet suddenly turned to ice, and jagged stones tore themselves out of the badly damaged wall to shoot toward me, like bullets.  I deflected some of the projectiles with my sword and shield, but I could do little against having the floor turn to ice.  I slipped and slid, trying to close, but it became apparent she was delaying me for some reason.

Then my Parry Anything perk activated, and I brought my sword around to block a hatchet blow from Phillip.  Unfortunately, the rest of Phillip came crashing down on me, and he brought down a knee into my face with crushing force.  I felt teeth break free, as the force of the blow knocked me back onto the ice.  

I completely lost my footing, slamming to the ground face-first.  Phillip was on my back in an instant.  He brought his hatchet down, as I struggled to stand.

●   Basstown Headbutt: You have caused 27 Damage.  The target is flung 11 Logs.

●   You have suffered 57 points of Damage from multiple hatchet wounds. Effects: You are suffering from multiple bleeding wounds.  You suffer 32 Hit Points of Damage per second for 9 seconds. 

Phillip had an armor-piercing strike that bypassed at least part of my armor.  I could feel hot, sticky blood streaming down my back.  I tried to execute Flash Steps to get away, but Su-Kar had a spell ready for that.  I ran into an invisible band of Force that sent me crashing back to the ground.

I managed to roll away and kick to my feet.  Phillip came back around, his paired hatchets swinging in bloody abandon.  Whenever I seemed to get an advantage on Phillip, Su-Kar intervened.  Any time I tried to break for Su-Kar, Phillip came for me.  I still had a good reserve of Hit Points, but I was getting worn down by their practiced routine.

They must have considered my attacks at great length, I realized.  I needed to do something they hadn’t seen before.

Grabbing my whip, I executed a Cleave with it.  The results were mixed.  When the whip struck Su-Kar at the end of its range, it knocked her sideways.  Phillip was standing closer to me, though.  He flung a hatchet at me and grabbed the whip.

I quickly realized I could overpower him, but Su-Kar was counting on that.  I could already see her casting a powerful spell in preparation for our contest.  I didn’t see any good options, so I yanked the whip hard.  Phillip had to brace himself to hold it, but, as he did, I released my leathery friend.  Phillip stumbled backward, and I raced toward Su-Kar.

Too late.  Su-Kar had finished the spell.  With Phillip conveniently out of the line of fire, she blasted me with a Lightning Bolt.  What she did not count on was me still having options.  I was a cleric of Logan with magic of my own.  I leveled my most potent spell and cast it at her, Bub.

The contest of a high-level sorcerer casting a Lightning Bolt and my weak magical machine gun of Holy Blasts didn’t last long.  The first few blasts hit her wavefront of destruction and bounced off harmlessly.  Next, I used my shield, the Block skill allowing me to divert some of her spell's energy away, until the shield blasted from my hand.  Finally, I used my Parry Anything perk on the spell, slashing it in half and diverting yet more of its power away.

In all, it didn’t help me much.  I still took the blast right in the crotch.  I looked down at the smoldering spot in my armor and then back up at her.  “Really?”

“Yes, O’Really.  I do hate you, after all,” she smiled back, her voice sultry.  “I’m surprised you are still capable of talking.”

“Not my first catastrophic groin injury,” I replied.  She took a step toward me, preparing another spell.  I held up my closed fist and pointed the Ring of the Ram at her.  “Bye.”

●   Ring of the Ram: You have caused 39 Damage.  The target is flung 8 Logs.

I intended to bounce her off the wall, but this was a ruined temple.  The whole thing was in terrible shape.  When Su-Kar hit the wall with all the force my magical ring could exert, she smashed clean through it.  The last image I saw of Su-Kar was her senseless form vanishing off into nothingness.

“My Su-Kar!” screamed a voice.

It had to be Phillip, but, as I turned to deal with the second threat, I realized that Phillip had never sounded that raw.  There was something primal and terrible in that scream, and a hurricane of blades slammed into me.

Su-Kar’s lightning had injured my legs, so I couldn’t Dodge out of the way.  The vortex of death slammed into me.  Phillip was using a hatchet and a knife now.  It was not an improvement.  The hatchet dug into me half a dozen times, as I tried to gain some space between the berserk Woodsman and myself.  He used the knife to stab deep wounds into my arms and shoulder.

●   Basstown Headbutt: You have caused 0 Damage.  Target resists with Durability of Oak

My head bounced off Phillip, not moving him in the least.  The impact had thrown me slightly back, gaining me a small amount of distance.  Coming back into sword range seemed suicidal.  Spotting my whip nearby, I rolled over to it.  Grabbing it, I whipped at Phillip.  He trapped the weapon with his hatchet, cutting the non-magical leather apart with his knife.  Then, he surged toward me again.

My blood flowed from a dozen different wounds that Mitigate couldn’t manage.  I needed time to recover, and Phillip wasn’t going to give it to me.  He was in a full rage of blood lust.  Phillip didn’t even try to defend himself, going purely on the offensive.  He was so aggressive, I couldn’t effectively retaliate.  I had only one option.

●   Force Felling Strike: You have caused 226 Damage.  Target Effect: Gaping chest wound, Mortal wound. 

Throwing a Force Point behind a strike made it impossible to miss, unless that target also had Force Points.  Phillip tried to counter with his Durability of Oak, but it was on cooldown.  My sword tore through his shoulder and stopped many inches below that.  I yanked the blade free, causing further Damage.  A geyser of blood erupted from his wound, striking me in the face.

Phillip sagged, dropping to his knees.  His weapons clattered to the ground.  The Woodsman reached to his side, causing several small blades to fall from a pouch.  Finally, he found what he was looking for.  Phillip pulled out a healing potion and quickly uncorked it.  As he brought it to his lips, I batted it away with my sword, shattering it.

He still had Hit Points, but he had suffered a Mortal wound.  He would be dead in moments without that potion.  Phillip looked up to me and moaned, “I hate you.”

Then, he died.

Chapter 56 - Final Battle

Stumbling away, I cast Regenerate on myself.  That started the process of healing my bloody injuries.  I was using Heal Injury and Heal Damage liberally, as I sought out Badgelor and Julia.  Their battle had all but destroyed the room.  I could see a patch where Destructive Gaze had scored the wall with an ugly black scar.

The room still reminded me of a badly damaged football arena. When we’d started the fight, there had been multiple hefty chunks of ceiling that had fallen onto the ‘field.’  Now, debris was scattered everywhere, and large pieces of the outer wall were missing.  I found my shield buried under some of that debris. When adventurers fought, they made sure everyone knew it.

“Fuck you,” screamed N’evzuu.  I sighed.  It was almost like having Shart back.  I glanced over at the demon.  He looked bored.

I found Badgelor and Hardragon tearing at each other on the edge of the arena, the shattered wall behind them letting in a cold chill from the mountains.  It looked like, with Julia’s help, Badgelor had finally gotten the upper hand.  He had bowled Hardragon over and was busily gnawing on Hardragon’s wrist.

That was a mistake.  Hardragon struck Badgelor at the place where his jaw connected to his skull.  Badgelor’s mouth became wedged open.  Julia barely got a barrier there in time to prevent Hardragon from shattering Badgelor’s jawbone.  Hardragon struck a second time, and Julia stepped closer to Badgelor.  The princess increased the power of her barrier, while the badger tried to get his jaw working again.  It was his fervent desire to devour his hated foe.  With Julia defending and Badgelor attacking, they were mere moments from victory.

I had a front-row seat when the whole plan collapsed. 

Julia had gotten too close.  Hardragon whipped his sword away from Badgelor and struck her across the temple with the flat of his blade.  Julia collapsed bonelessly to the ground, just as Badgelor got his jaw to snap shut again.  He turned, growling at the dragon protector. Hardragon sneered at Badgelor before kicking Julia in her midsection.  She was sent careening off the side of the temple.

Badgelor didn’t hesitate. He dove after her.

“It seems that we are alone,” stated Hardragon, as he watched the place Julia had vanished.  Content that Badgelor was gone, too, he started walking toward me.  His helmet was gone, and he took a moment to adjust the straps on his armor.  “I was wondering why my boss would be so interested in you.”

“Well, I generally piss people off,” I said, walking closer, “But I don’t know.  Who’s your boss?”

“If you don’t know, I’m not worried about it,” stated Hardragon, clutching his sword, “If it matters, the boss will tell me.”

“The Dark Overlord?” I asked, as we squared off.  The wind was fresh and carried small bits of snow with it.  It would have been chilling, had I not exerted myself so much.

Hardragon chuckled darkly.  “The Dark Overlord?  Trust me, there is evil enough in this world without having to bring up myths and legends.”

Except I heard the catch in his voice.  He wasn’t as confident in that as he claimed.

“Maybe I’m just here to get people to mind their manners,” I said.

“You said no one fucks with the mayor of Noobtown.  Am I to understand that means you are the mayor of Windfall?” questioned Hardragon, moving further toward me.  The heavy clang of his boots on the hard stone filled our ears.  “It would explain why you are so interested in the Dark Overlord, wouldn’t it, Mayor?”

The way he said ‘Mayor’ gave me pause.  That was a title.  It wasn’t just any mayor, but the Mayor.  “Why is that?”

“The Mayor of Windfall returns with no Dark Overlord to battle.  Are you trying to find him?” asked Hardragon.  “What is your angle?”

“The Dark Overlord has returned, and he killed someone special to me.  I’m going to finish what I started,” I responded.

Hardragon’s face became a mask as he processed that information.  For the barest, tiniest of moments, I saw the grip on his sword waver.  Recovering quickly, he faced me with piercing blue eyes.  “Then, I must kill you!”

Charging with his sword held high, Hardragon advanced toward me with a speed I had not yet seen from him causing a nearby chunk of the ceiling to fall as his heavy boots tore into the ground.  Not to be outdone, I charged right back at him.  As we closed, I executed Thrust, surging forward even faster.  Hardragon parried the blow, but I had too much inertia built up.  I slipped past him before he could follow up.

Not that it mattered much.  Hardragon was still hot on my heels, and we again traded blows.  I abruptly became aware of the differences in our fighting styles.  I used my special moves as the driving force between my attacks, often going so far as to pull out of melee range to let my abilities cool down.

Hardragon did not fight in that style.  He used special moves, of course.  However, most of the time, he just tried to cut you in half with his sword.  Fighting in that method accomplished two things.  First, it kept the pressure on me and prevented me from using my special attacks.  Second, it put him in a position where, when he could use his special moves, he was in the best place to do so.

Hardragon executed his double Felling Strike again, rushing toward me in a mighty blow.  I sidestepped it, the entire arena ringing with the sound of the strike.  Then, I parried his follow-up Badger Felling Strike using Powerful Parry.  I Riposted and used Felling Strike back at him as a piece of the ceiling shattered as it hit the floor. 

His sword smashed into my blade, as he attempted to Parry the strike.  However, Felling Strike carried too much power for a conventional parry.  He diverted my attack slightly, just enough to prevent me from cutting his arm off at the shoulder.  Instead, my blade punctured through the metal on his upper arm, leaving a wound that fountained blood. 

Hardragon growled and jerked back oddly.  That’s how I discovered my sword had wedged into his armor.  I couldn’t pull it free, and Hardragon used that moment to execute a type of sword slash on me that I’d never seen before. 

●   Instant Cut: Successful, You have suffered 82 points of Damage

I felt odd.  Everything was still attached, I thought, but I was suddenly bleeding quite terribly.  Mitigate activated, but I couldn’t stop that much of a bleed effect.  Casting Regenerate, I launched myself into an attack.  It was a mistake, as Hardragon had planned for it.

The damage to my arm was subtle and mostly impacted my grip.  When I went in for an attack, Hardragon didn’t exactly try to block the strike.  Instead, he attacked my sword.  With my weakened grip, the sword went flying from my hand, clattering to the ground behind me. 

“Nice try,” he hissed and slammed his blade into my shield over and over again.  I had the Block skill and a good deal of room to work.  Additionally, the ability to see through the shield let me keep it better positioned.  Despite all this, he forced me to give ground.  Eventually, Hardragon was close enough to grab the shield with his free hand and pull it from my grasp.   

I spun away, gaining some distance.  I managed to arm myself with what was left of my whip.  Hardragon scoffed.  He twisted my shield around and placed it on his injured arm.

“I see how you were so good at blocking,” he growled out, bringing the shield tighter to his body.  With the shield in that position, he assumed my broken whip would be next to useless; the only targets available were either too sharp or too heavily armored for me to Damage.

Instead of backing off, I stepped toward him.  He gestured to me with his sword.  I began twirling my short whip, only to send it flashing out for a piece of stone.  I twisted and brought the rock down hard on the shield.  That surprised him.  Now that my Sword Master perk applied to all weapons, I could use the remains of the whip almost as well as a fully intact one.  Despite this, Hardragon blocked the stone effortlessly.  However, doing so distracted him, allowing me to get right in front of him.  I shoved the lich’s head directly into the shield. 

It was transparent from Hardragon’s side, so the lich’s controlling eyes were on full display.  The lich couldn’t see Hardragon, however, so he couldn’t direct him to do anything.  Hardragon was left frozen in place.  I tied the headdress around the shield, leaving the lich pointing at Hardragon’s head.  Then, I cast Regeneration on myself and walked over to where Badgelor had dived off the side.

“Took ya long enough,” stated Badgelor, reaching toward me.  I glanced over to Julia, who was still quite unconscious and dangling precariously from Badgelor’s back paws.  I could see his claws leaving bloody welts in her skin.  I opted to lift the princess up first.  Badgelor didn’t comment, but, without her occupying his paws, he was able to climb up quickly.

“Shart, I’m never going to give you up, so let's bond,” I stated, waiting for whatever strange magic was required for a Demonic Bonding.  After a moment of nothing happening, I looked up at the demon.  Shart was becoming less and less tangible.

“I told you to hurry up,” grumbled the demon.

“It's not like I wasn’t trying to,” I grumbled back.  “What’s going on?”

“What does it look like?  I’ve been here too long without bonding with anyone!  I’m about to go back to Limbo for a century,” stated Shart.

“Is there anything I can do to get you back faster?” I asked, casting Hammerspace and scanning for anything I could find.  Now, Shart’s guts were oozing everywhere, and they weren’t the almost gas-like substances they had been before.

“You waited too long, Dum Dum.  If you have a brilliant plan, now would be the time,” stated the demon.  “Otherwise, I’m going back to Limbo, and you are screwed.”

I recast the spell and waved at myself.

“So, anything I could try would be better than what’s about to happen?” I asked.

“I didn’t say that,” replied Shart cautiously.

“But I could tell you meant it, best buddy,” I said, grabbing Badgelor by the neck.  For whatever reason, grabbing Badgelor by his neck caused him to shrink down to his travel size.  “Badgelor, remember that special place in Shart’s heart you talked about?”

“Yes,” answered the badger suspiciously.

“Get it for me,” I replied.

“WAIT, that’s a terrible idea,” said Shart.

“NO, it’s a horrible idea,” said Badgelor.  He began to struggle in a vain attempt to pull away.

“Shush, it's amazing,” I replied, grabbing Badgelor by his feet.  The desperate badger was unceremoniously shoved, head-first, into my dimensional storage.  Shart continued to fade for a few seconds, his return to Limbo drawing nigh.  I felt Badgelor tug on my arm, so I started to pull him free. 

“YOU FUCKER!  THE <SYSTEM>,” screamed Shart, before the power of speech left him.

The first two paces were the hardest.  I felt like I was hauling a mountain through a keyhole, but, after we got the heart out into the real world, the job became much more manageable.  Each step pulled more mass from Shart, who, while in the summoning circle, was technically both in Limbo and on Ordinal.  Badgelor and I worked steadily to birth the demon into actuality on Ordinal. 

Inside the summoning circle, Shart looked like he was getting sucked into a vacuum cleaner.  By the time my faithful badger and I reached ten logs out, the summoned demon popped out of existence.  The material we had pulled through my storage folded in around Shart’s heart, startling Badgelor into dropping it.

“See, this was a great idea,” I said, as the space around me began to rumble.  Badgelor stepped over to help the awakening Julia, as the <system> decided the results of what I’d just done. 

Shart plopped back to his feet.  If anything, he was uglier than before.  His body stank, and he looked like he’d been underwater for weeks.

“You don’t look so good,” I said.

“YOU NIMROD!” screamed Shart, looking at his hands.  They were covered in tiny, pulsing veins, causing them to look much more disturbing than usual.  “I’M FUCKING INSIDE OUT!”

“Oh,” I stated, momentarily dumbfounded.  “Well, you are still here, and that’s the important thing.  Want to bond now?”

“Feck you,” grumbled the demon.  “I could have bonded with Julia, but I didn’t.  Now, I’m like this.  My insides are on the outside.”

“Couldn’t we just put you into storage and pull you out again?” I asked, attempting to open my dimensional storage.

<System Error> dimensional storage volume is 20 cubic logs.  You have 6,817 cubic logs worth of material in storage.  Excess material ejecting now.

“I’m inside out! I don’t have any internal space for storage,” said Shart.  The first object I’d ever put into storage, a boulder the size of a wheelbarrow, went flying into the air.  It smashed through the ceiling with a mighty thunk, raining down bits of stone. 

“This might be a problem,” I said.

“Gee, ya think,” replied Shart sardonically.  A wave of debris began materializing around me, flying in every direction.  The rubbish going up smashed the ceiling apart in moments.  The crap going to the sides was equally problematic; it took out the supporting walls of the room.  Had the ceiling not already been obliterated, I would have surely been killed.

The biggest problem was that garbage also began shooting downward.  Each boulder fired off rather aggressively, like I’d launched it from a powerful catapult.  Dozens of rocks and shiny Shart collectibles shot down at various angles.  Of course, the summoning circle didn’t survive.  Then again, neither did the floor below it.  I was pretty sure I could see several stories beneath us, as boulders kept appearing a few logs away from me and propelling themselves outward. 

Hardragon stood still, as a coat rack struck him square in the face.  I barely managed to grab my shield before everything vanished into space.  When I returned my gaze to my opponent, I found Hardragon and the lich were gone.  I used Flash Steps and made it over to Julia.  Objects continued to appear at a little over three logs away from me, before they rocketed off. 

“What the hell?” she asked, finally becoming fully conscious and cognizant.  We watched a boulder the size of a car smash into Phillip’s body.  The results were unpleasant.

“I pulled the Elder Demon into this realm.  I don’t think the <system> liked it,” I answered.

Julia looked at me, bug-eyed, for a moment.  “WHAT?”

“Shart, say hi,” I said to the groggy demon.

“Feck you,” hissed Shart.

“That’s the Elder Demon,” stated Julia.  She could actually see the sickly-looking demon that I was carrying like a volleyball.

“Yes, or what’s left of him.  His material body cannot form on Ordinal, so he turns into this chibi form,” I explained.

“How are we supposed to fight the Dark Overlord with that?” asked Julia.

“Hey, last time I fought the Dark Overlord, I only had Badgelor!  We did alright,” I countered.

“Badgelor?” she asked, turning to look at my fun-sized companion.

“Hey, how you doin?” replied Badgelor.  He cutely plopped down on his haunches by Julia’s knee.

“You already knew that the Dark Overlord was back, but you let me summon the Elder Demon anyway?” she yelled.

“I needed to get Shart back.  He’s annoying but reasonably useful, some of the time,” I said.  

“Feck you both,” stated Shart.

Julia blinked at me several times.  “What?”

I think I broke her.

“Oh, yeah, he bonded with me when I first landed on Ordinal,” I said, slamming Shart onto my shoulder.  Hopefully, he would stick, just like in the good old days.  I was certain that Shart was oozing enough demonic funk to bind him.  This time I thought it was drying demonic pus, but I’d take what I could get.

“I hate you so much,” hissed Shart.  By this point, Julia was twitching.

“We need to get out of here,” I said, looking around.

“The teleportarium,” stated Julia, returning to balance.  “I can Teleport us somewhere nearby.”

“Any idea where we will end up?” I asked.

“No,” she replied, “I don’t have a key.  We need something unique from somewhere nearby.”

I shrugged, as the entire ruined temple sagged slightly.  Boulders were constantly violating the structure's innards.  “You’d think a dungeon would be more structurally sound than this.”

“Phillip sent most of the monsters off to destroy the local towns,” explained Julia.  “He crippled the dungeon to make it easier for me to do the ritual.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” I said.  Suddenly, there was another spray of boulders, followed by a prompt:

●   You have slain the dungeon boss.  You can now claim the Dungeon Core.

“Hey, neat,” I exclaimed.  “The dungeon boss just died.  All we have to do is go to the Dungeon Core over there, and we can claim the dungeon!”

As I spoke, three large boulders flew out of my body.  They promptly smashed into the hall where the Dungeon Core resided, as if they had sensed my intentions.  The entire room collapsed in one giant heap. 

“Focus, Jim,” Julia said, looking at my name tag and groaning.  “Do you have anything we can use as a teleport key from Union?  They took everything I had that would have worked.”

I checked.  I didn’t have anything from Union, but I did have something.  I activated my dimensional storage and reached for my last Thingamabob.  It promptly shot itself straight into the heavens.

“I had something,” I said, watching it grow smaller and smaller in the sky.

“What the hell is going on?” screamed Julia, as massive chunks of debris continued to fly in all directions.

“My dimensional storage collapsed.  It appears that I have to expel all these objects,” I responded, checking my storage.  It showed nothing but error messages.  I figured that was a bad thing.

“I think I saw a small creek to the south of here.  We might be able to jump into it,” Julia suggested.  As absurd of a suggestion as that might have been on Earth, a skydiver falling into enough water to submerge themselves would take no Falling Damage on Ordinal.  I didn’t know exactly where this creek was, though.  If I missed my landing, the results were going to leave me flat.

“Or we could just wait a moment,” I said, still watching the sky.

“Why is that a better idea?” Julia cried out.

“Because I can still see my Thingamabob.  I’ll catch it.  Then, we can use it to teleport away,” I said.

Julia facepalmed.  “Look, I’m going to take your badger and run over to the teleportation circle. You catch that thing and bring it over,” she said, grabbing Badgelor.  The little traitor nuzzled in her boobs, as she carried him away. 

“Shart, can we bond yet?” I asked, trying to gauge where the Thingamabob was going to land.  I started walking toward the ruined Dungeon Core room.

“Noooo,” hissed the demon miserably.  “All of my organs are on the outside.  I can’t figure out how to use any of them to connect to anything.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll eventually figure it out,” I said, picking up speed.  I had plotted where the Thingamabob was going to land.  It was distressingly close to a glowing ball of energy, where the Dungeon Core used to reside.  “Can a Dungeon Core get Damaged?”

“Of course, they have Durability.  It would take a massive amount of Damage, though” stated Shart.  He groaned again.  “Like, about three boulders being fired into it at a high rate of speed.”

“What happens to a Damaged Dungeon Core?” I continued.

“They explode, about a few dumb Earth miles range, lots of damage,” groaned Shart.

“No worries,” I said, hopping into the ruined room and finding the cracked Dungeon Core.  It was laying on its side at the far end of the room.  I gingerly picked it up and looked at it with my Heightened Senses.  That spell was particularly handy for spotting Thingamabobs and Dungeon Cores.  “I’ll just start absorbing its power now.”

“Wait, that’s probably a bad idea,” started Shart, but I didn’t have time to wait around.  I found the Core’s points that functioned like a magical font and began draining it.

●   Your Max Level is increase to 65.3

“Why does everything taste purple?” I asked, stumbling backward.

“You idiot!  You blew a fuse on your Mana network.  You can’t absorb that much power without consequences,” said Shart.  “Then again, not your worst idea.  That Core was about to explode.  You just bought yourself a minute or two.”

Shaking my head until both my eyes refocused, I realized all my spells had stopped.  Without Heightened Senses, I couldn’t see the fast-moving Thingamabob.  I activated Perception, but it was hard to track any single object with so much other debris around.

The thing I hadn’t mentioned to Julia was that the Thingamabob would explode on impact.  I struggled back to my feet, searching the sky for the object.  I was too late.  I spotted it incoming, and, even with my Flash Steps perk, I was going to come up short.  I had to try, though, so I dashed over.  I might have made it, had I not bounced off an unlikely object.

Twinkle stumbled forward, ending in a roll.  When he came back to his feet, he was holding the Thingamabob.  “Did you need this, buddy?”

“Yes, pal,” I replied carefully.  Twinkle walked over and dropped the Thingamabob directly into my palm.

“I assume your escape plan is better laid out than mine,” stated Twinkle, looking around.

“What do you mean?” I asked, still eyeing the Dungeon Core.  Crackling noises were coming from it, and I thought I could see thin, grey smoke wisps.

“Well, there is a path to the Fast Lanes at the base of those stairs,” Twinkle said.  He gestured toward a recently exposed stairwell.  “However, several boulders smashed through the ceiling and killed the dungeon boss.”

“Which was a good thing?” I asked.

“No, the boulder that killed the beast bounced into the Fast Lanes.  That means the Walker of Siers knows about the entrance,” stated Twinkle.

“Why is that bad?” I asked.

“The Walker of Siers rules the dimension the Fast Lanes are located in.  The Walker is an unimaginably powerful eldritch horror that loves to feast on creatures from Ordinal.  My people can still make limited use of the Fast Lanes, due to some magical potions we possess.  Those concoctions won’t work, though, if there is fresh meat by the entrance.”

“Are you saying you need to escape with me?” I asked.

“Yes, buddy,” stated the elf.

I kicked the sparking Dungeon Core down the staircase that led directly into the Fast Lanes.  “Works for me.  Let's book it.”

The elf’s shoulders sagged in relief.  “I was afraid I was quite boned.  If the boulders hadn’t stopped flying everywhere, I knew I was doomed.”

“Shart, why did the boulders stop?” I asked, suddenly concerned.

“I don’t think your storage ran out, if that’s what you mean,” stated the demon, checking something over our link.  “Oh, it’s because your Mana network isn’t operating.  Everything is getting queued up.  When the network restores in seventy-three seconds, everything is going to blast out, all at once.”

“How long does it take to cast a Teleportation spell?” I asked.

“About thirty seconds.  Why?” asked the demon.

I already had Shart under one arm.  I grabbed Twinkle under the other and rushed toward the teleportation circle.  Twinkle slid free but kept running with me.

“I’m flattered but consent, Jim,” he said, correcting his hair.  “Always get consent.”

“Life or death, limited timeframe, sorry,” I replied.  Without the massive stones flying everywhere, the rest of our run was a breeze.

Julia watched us approach, sticking out her hand.  “Give it to me!  I can begin the spell before the boulders start again.”

“I know when they are going to start.  We need to teleport at the exact moment after they do,” I replied, dropping the object into her hand.  “Be careful with this.  It explodes on impact.”  Twinkle paled.

“How much time?” Julia asked.

“About forty-three seconds,” I replied.

She nodded.  Julia then moved very close, pressing her body against me.  I could feel every curve, as she placed her hand in mine.  The Thingamabob rested between our palms.  “The closer we are, the better the spell will work.”

I felt the elf latch onto my other side.  He pressed even tighter.

“What about consent?” I asked.

“Life or death,” he smiled back at me.

I was still holding Shart.  Cute little Badgelor crawled onto my shoulder and squeezed his face into my neck.  We all waited impatiently.  At the thirty-one second mark, Julia began chanting the spell.  If she made the slightest mistake, we were all dead.  The princess was careful and quick to perfectly recite the incantation.

I started to feel a shifting in my gut.  Suddenly, the space around me filled with everything else from my storage.  I watched as every single thing, from the Phylactery that I’d gotten in the dungeon to my several hundred healroot, zipped off into the distance.  They were surrounded by a crazy assortment of broken coat racks and a cloud of boulders.  From the corner of my eye, I saw Badgelor snatch something at the last second.

We vanished, just as the rain of destruction shattered the last bits of the temple.  The whole building sagged and began to collapse.

Windfall Ho!

Chapter 57 - Windfall No

We appeared 100 feet in the air.  That usually would have been troubling, but we were over water.  Unlike on Earth, even a slight puddle was enough to stop you from falling to your death.  Of course, what was below us was no small puddle.

A ship had been underneath us for the spell's opening instant, but it was cruising at a fast clip.  Thankfully, we took several seconds to fully materialize.  After three seconds to emerge and three seconds to fall, the ship was fifty logs past us.  We all splashed haphazardly into the water.  It didn’t help that it was dark, and there were clouds everywhere.

I sputtered out first, holding onto Shart and Julia.  The Zealot shook off my hand and looked around, trying to figure out where we were.  Twinkle and Badgelor both popped up a moment later.  

“I thought we were going to appear in a town,” gasped Twinkle.

“I got the Thingamabob from a town,” I hissed.  “Well, south of a town.  Those Thingamabobs were made especially for me.  The girl who crafted them happened to work for a ship.”  I held up my fist and started screaming out, “Bub.”

A bright white ray shot off into the sky.  I kept yelling “Bub” and shooting out blasts, trying to get the ship’s attention.

“Jim,” stated Julia, as I continued blasting, doing whatever I could to attract the ship.

“Jim,” screamed Badgelor, his paws grabbing hold of my head and turning me around.  Dozens of large fins were circling, attracted by my bright display.

“Feck me,” I groaned.  The fins grew closer and closer.  Just as suddenly as they appeared, they scattered.

“Are we saved?” asked Twinkle.

“In my experience, this sort of thing is never a good sign,” stated Badgelor dryly. 

Julia gestured with her head.  I instantly noticed something was wrong with the water.  We seemed to be above an underwater spout or something.  It was causing the water under us to surge up oddly.  That’s when I noticed a massive eyeball.

“Well, that’s Ordinal for you,” I said, as the huge creature beneath us began to close in.

Quite abruptly, there was splashing around us on all sides.  After that, nothing happened for a moment.  Then, the water seemed to rumble.  I looked up to see that the ship had returned.  It was flying a flag that showed a familiar lizard.  A very dark-skinned man with a massive grin stared down at me.  His crew began tossing out ropes.

“Howarya?”

The End

Epilogue

Su-Kar’s feet gently touched a depression in the ground, as her Feather Fall spell finally expired.  The spell hadn’t even taken her off the temple grounds, not that the temple would last much longer.  She turned around to see the great building being torn apart from whatever battle Hardragon and O’Really were having.  Not that she cared about that anymore.

Phillip must be dead.  She needed a moment to process that.  For so long, all she had wanted to do was leave that jerk dead in a ditch, just like the one she was currently standing in.  Now that she had gotten what she once wished for the most, it hurt.  All of their plans together were gone.  Sure, most of them were about torturing O’Really, but, when she had actually bothered to talk to the oaf, she realized Phillip had possessed a keen mind for torture.  Su-Kar had always discounted him because of his uncouth nature.

She regretted that now, and she’d never have a chance to tell him.  Su-Kar jerked and looked up toward the temple again, as one final blast of boulders went flying off in all directions.  She didn’t even see the Phylactery.  It slammed into her chest and exploded out her back in a fiery fountain of gore.

***

Hardragon aimed, prayed, and hit, slamming into the creek at a speed that would have otherwise broken him.  He landed in the water, though.  It was enough to nullify all Falling Damage.  The lich hadn’t been so lucky.  It had landed on a rock and shattered.

That bastard had tricked him.  Hardragon considered that for a long moment.  Not O’Really said he had fought the Dark Overlord, and the boss was tending to someone that was grievously injured.  Standing, Hardragon decided that he would have to go back to report his partial failure.  He hadn’t gotten a good look at the demon for several minutes.  However, when Hardragon was flying away, the Elder Demon was gone.  Then, the temple collapsed.  That must mean that the summoning had failed.

Didn’t it?

***

Lorraine stared at the ancient temple.  It had been the bane of her family for generations.  Countless wandering monsters had come from there.  Everyone was forbidden entry, due to the high rate of fatalities for those adventurers that were stupid enough to enter.

Jim had destroyed it to save the princess.

Lorraine knew he was alive.  She had brought his army to help, but the Great General had vanished.  He may have disappeared, but the army interface was still active.  The only way to destroy a Great General’s army was to kill the Great General.

“Do you have any idea where the Mayor went, Captain-General?” asked Nick.

“Of course, I do, Captain-General,” she replied, loving the title.  The full title was Captain-General of the Army of Windfall, which was right out of Season 4, Episode 2.  The little fangirl in her was still geeking out about that.  “The Mayor went to Grebthar's Lands.  We are off to Windfall!”

“But the Gatekeeper,” said Nick, shocked.

“The Gatekeeper will not deny the Army of Windfall entry into Grebthar's Lands.  It has been foretold,” she said, “In Season 9, Episode 12!”

***

“I don’t think we are doing very much this time around,” stated SueLeeta, adjusting her long braid between her broad shoulder blades.

“No, but it's nice that they included us anyway.” replied Sir Dalton.  “Besides, I have a feeling we are going to be much more involved soon!”

SueLeeta nodded, searching the field.  Sir Dalton had taken command of a fifty-man unit, including five sergeants.  That left SueLeeta free to deal with more serious concerns.  Her ultimate victory was in sight.  She pulled back an arrow, waiting patiently for that idiot to stick his head out from behind a tree.  Patience was the key in any battle.

“So, my tent got destroyed,” she began.  The last battle had been rough.  Nearly a dozen adventurer casualties on each side in the last battle, along with hundreds of fallen soldiers.

“That is unfortunate,” stated Sir Dalton.  He was waiting for a horn to sound.

“I’d hate to be at less than my best for these upcoming battles.  It looks like the weather is going to be bad, as well,” she continued.

“Good point.  You can have my tent,” stated Sir Dalton confidently.

SueLeeta sighed.  “Then you won’t be at your best.  Isn’t your tent fairly large?  I bet we could share.”

“Of course, we could share.  You are indeed clever,” stated Sir Dalton.  “Just bring your bedding over to my tent.  We can both be comfortable there.”

“They got my bedding, too,” SueLeeta deadpanned, her inner goddess dancing.  Things were looking up.

***

TimSimons stared at the battlefield reports.  Both his head and his heart hurt.

“This cannot be right!  We have over one hundred adventurers dead,” King TimSimons said, staring at the names.  Each one had been someone the king had known personally.  Each name pained him. 

“At least the casualties on the other side have been just as bad,” replied Force Captain Grayeir.  “Unless you and HarCharles personally start clashing, we should be able to negotiate a ceasefire soon.  This many dead adventurers are going to destabilize both our kingdoms.

“That would be one for the storybooks,” stated TimSimons.  Kings never fought adventurers.  That was the general rule.  It was a rule that got bent quite a bit.  The specific rule was that kings didn’t fight kings.  The thought of two kingdom-tier weapons in actual combat was something that kept people like Grayeir up at night.

The simple fact was that no kingdom could lose this many adventurers and prosper. Typical wars would have stopped at a tenth of these deaths, yet the battles continued over the Riverlands.  TimSimons was tempted to accept the request made by the Hunter from Windfall.  If he ordered someone to heal their Warden, his army would gain a capable Woodsman. 

Windfall’s mayor was missing. That didn’t bode well, either.  TimSimons wasn’t a religious man, but he had received a Falconian education.  He knew the mayor of Windfall was quite important to them.  He had hoped this new mayor was a charlatan, but Lord Dookie had spoken highly of him before the ambush.

TimSimons made up his mind.  He would talk to Sir Dalton and his companion, SueLeeta, concerning this mayor.  That action would resolve one of his issues.  It’s what Sheblin would have wanted him to do.

“My king, the storm cloud moves,” stated Grayeir.  The captain was already slamming on his helmet.  TimSimons couldn’t believe it.  The Storm King approached!

“The sword and the hammer will again meet in battle,” said TimSimons, drawing Excalibur.  Such an occurrence had not happened since Grebthar’s time.

From the Author

Thank you for reading Noobtown Book 5, Noob Game Plus.  I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.  If you liked NG+, please take the time to review it.  If you didn’t, then stay away from that ratings section!  Haha, I kid, I kid.  Seriously, you have no idea how much a rating can help an independent author like me.

Coming later in 2021:  Noobtown Book 6!  (Yes, I have already started writing it.)  You can follow its progress on Noobtown’s Facebook page here. I’m very responsive and love to hear from my fans. Additionally, if you are so inspired to support me in any other way, please don’t hesitate to check out my Patreon page here. Thanks again for reading my writing!  Hope to hear from you soon.

Please check out all of my Noobtown Books!

Mayor of Noobtown  (Audio)

Village of Noobtown  (Audio)

Castle of the Noobs  (Audio)

Dungeons and Noobs  (Audio)