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Tumbling across a wooden floor, Cire landed hard. His simple tunic and pants provided little padding against the impact. Struggling to his feet while gripping tightly to a black wooden practice sword, Cire tried to shake off the numbing feeling spreading through his core. Eliana was relentless in her assault, immediately clashing with him once again.
Parrying an overtly aggressive overhead strike, Cire leapt to the side. Channeling a burst of mana into his feet, he positioned himself to his sparring partners side. Lashing out like a whip, his sword angled at her shoulder. The sapwood sword struck a glancing blow, leeching Eliana’s mana. A boot to his knee sent him sprawling to the training platform again.
“Proper footwork,” The gray haired instructor danced away from Cire’s paltry parry and struck him again in the mid-section with her matching practice sword. “Must always be maintained, regardless of ability use.”
Cire groaned, but scrambled to his feet and stepped back. Eliana gave him distance, she could have ended the match right then and there; but they weren’t competing, they were training. Her fighting lectures had become commonplace for Cire. He eagerly engaged the grand master at every opportunity since his inclusion at the academy.
Snaking his curved mock blade forward, he clashed with his teacher. Forcing Eliana to continually parry rapid weak strikes. He knew they would do little but buy him time. Pushing himself, he tried to summon up another surge of mana, but found himself dry. Mid-step, the instructors sword lanced itself into his ribs. Cire crumpled.
Waving before his nose, an acrid ammonia smell brought him around. Standing over him, Eliana gave a curt nod before walking away. A hand reached down and clasped his own, helping him to his feet. Fizzilius, a gnomish classmate of Cire, shook his head.
“You really need to learn how to better incorporate your skill abilities into your fighting style. You used up so much mana that you blacked out again. At least you recover quickly.”
As one of Cire’s few non-elven peers, Fizz’s shared sense of being an outsider had endeared him quickly to the vampire. During his introduction to Eliana, and the rest of the class, he had freely shared his heritage. It had become an open secret in the town, with rumor spreading quickly in the weeks since his arrival. As a result, Cire had seen no reason to try and hide any longer. He had become somewhat of a polarizing figure, but had managed to stay isolated on the academies floors at the administrative pillar.
“I know, I know. They’re still new to me, so I don’t have a feel for them yet. I keep using them too early instead of at the right moments. Eliana said it would be easier now that I am focusing on fighting without armor, but I’m not used to keeping track of so many things during a fight.”
Fizz grunted acknowledgment and shrugged his sculpted shoulders. He was an incredibly well built gnome and fulfilled the same general roll Cire did during a fight, mobile damage dealer. Instead of fighting with long blades, the ball of muscle and agility employed knives, lots and lots of knives. A dagger spun across his fingertips and disappeared into his boot.
“I can’t believe you weren’t focused on your martial combat skill before now. You can even regenerate, so it’s a far less punishing style of fighting for you compared to most. You’ll get there, keep dodging and lining up overwhelming, devastating strikes. It’s better when your not sparring Eliana, your evenly matched against Honeydrop and Matthias.”
Cire walked to the edge of the wooden sparring surface, moving around the other pairs of students still engaged, and sat down.
“Well, they have honed their skills for decades, Eliana centuries. I’m self aware enough to know that I am behind everyone else. I won’t catch up anytime soon, but I’ll get there eventually. It’s just a little surprising to be routinely trounced by people who are lower level than me like Calix. I swear, that moon elf is untouchable.”
Waving a hand to ward off the notion, Fizz responded conspiratorially. “I wouldn’t worry about that too much. You’re starting to build a good skill base, not compared to mine of course, but still decent. Calix and a lot of the others are academy darlings. Perfectly suited for practice, not battle. Most of the class hasn’t seen any real combat, that’s why were going out for a supervised patrol after the ball.”
The rest of the class session went by fast. Cire partnered up with Fizz for a quick unarmed fight. Hard to pin down, the toned gnome constantly had the taller, and larger, elf on his heels. Using his size to his advantage, Fizzilius constantly struck sideways at knees and ankles keeping him off balance. After they had worked up a good sweat, and Cire had gotten a good number of bruises, they both called it quits for the day.
Pushing his skills, Cire had heightened his ability to avoiding attacks. His martial combat skill at apprentice level increased his dodge chance when unarmored by a flat ten percent and allowed him to strike unarmed at a bonus. The fluid motion sub-skill increased his dodge percentage by another one percent per point of dexterity above ten. Overall, when he wasn’t encumbered by armor, he had roughly a one in five chance to dodge an attack he saw coming. Apparently, this was a stand out quality that he had been woefully under utilizing.
In the past, Cire had only resorted to stripping the protection of his armor away when he had used his blood rage ability. Letting the overwhelming aggression of the rage pair with the quick movements of his unrestricted body. The idea of fighting without armor against a yeti, gnoll, or giant wolf spider seemed ludicrous. That was until he had watched Eliana fight.
The wizened elven master had tested his skills, along with several other teachers, and sufficiently chastised him for early point investment. Eugene had warned him to save his accumulated skill points from early leveling, Eliana had laid into him. Cire’s only saving grace was that she had approved of the two skills he had sunk the points into. His natural aptitude for each promised that he could achieve the upper echelons of the skill’s benefits.
Eliana had demonstrated the speed and maneuverability a combatant could employ when unrestricted by the confines of leather and plate. Her movements looked more like a blur as she twirled and spun around the other teachers attacking her. The presentation had been for the class as a whole, but Cire had taken it’s lesson to heart. He had added several new skills and even a couple of skill abilities that fit an unarmored fighting style.
Cire pulled up his status sheet and gave it a once over, knowing that no skills had increased today, but that in the last few weeks he had done a good job raising many of them. He hadn’t sold his armor, it had been a gift after all, but he had stopped wearing it. Every time he saw his inventory without it listed, he felt like something was missing.
Biographical Information:
Name: Ciresil Eventide
Level: 13
Experience: 93,880
Lineage: Sun Elf – Vampire
Profession: Unselected
Disposition: Flexibly Idealistic (+1 to Chaotic, +3 to Good, +2 to Orderly)
Languages: Divine Elvish, Ancient Elvish, Elvish Handtalk, Elvish, Common
Stats:
Health: 157/157
Mana: 145/145
Armor: 0
Dodge: 19%
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 19
Constitution: 14
Intelligence: 13
Spirit: 11
Charisma: 19
Luck: 11
Resistances:
50% Enchantment
20% Weather
5% Mental
-50% Holy Magic
Aspects:
Indefatigable
Trustworthy
Favored Enemy:
Gnolls
Skills:
Wilderness Survival 3, Natural
Martial Combat 32, Natural
Sub-skill: Fluid Motion 29, Natural
Sub-skill: Martial Acrobatics 7, Natural
Sub-skill: Grappling 4, Significant
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Swordsmanship 27, Natural
Sub-skill: Large Blades 23, Natural
Sub-skill: Curved Blades 9, Natural
Sub-skill: Exotic Blades 5, Natural
Sub-skill: Surging Strike 8, Natural
Scavenging 7, Natural
Adventurer 8, Natural
Meditation 14, Significant
Armor 10, Average
Sub-skill: Light Armor 10, Average
Lore 9, General
Sub-skill: Arcana 3, Significant
Sub-skill: Mountains and Hills 3, Average
Sub-skill: Woods & Forests 5, Significant
Sub-skill: Elvish Culture & Customs 5, Natural
Sub-skill: Fae Culture & Customs 2, Significant
Communication 7, General
Sub-skill: Persuasion 3, Natural
Sub-skill: Oratory 1, Significant
Sub-skill: Diplomacy 5, Significant
Climbing 2, Average
Sub-skill: Rappelling 2, Average
Acrobatics 7, Natural
Sub-skill: Flash Step 7, Natural
Abilities:
Vampiric Abilities: Shapechanger, Bite (4), Regeneration (3), Blood Rage
Skill Abilities: Flash Step, Surging Strike
Traits:
Child of Night: Vampiric abilities, heat vision. Nascent vulnerability to silver and Light Magic. -100% resistance to Holy Magic.
Child of Heaven: You have retained a divine soul. Reduced susceptibility to Holy Magic by 50%, vampiric light & silver vulnerability negated, and vampiric hunger reduced.
Elven Heritage: 50% Enchantment resistance. Low-light vision & acute senses, Perception +1.
Honorbound: While within the Hamlet of Sunset you receive a 5% bonus to all actions.
Scion of the Chimera’s Mane: As ruler of the territories’ noble house you receive a 10% bonus to all actions within the area. You may summon a territorial keep once per month. Theia’s Blessing: Luck +1, Perception +1. Other elements of this trait may reveal themselves over time.
Inventory:
High Quality Set of Clothing (Body)
Blessed Fine Steel Longsword (Equipped)
Scrimshaw Necklace of the Naga (Neck)
Warden’s Bracelet of Elucidation (Wrist)
Ring of Lunar Sunrise (Finger)
Silver Ring (Finger)
Small Pouch of Coins (Pocket):
1 gold, 15 silver, 88 copper
Cire had gained a bevy of swordsmanship and martial combat sub-skills to go along with general gains across the board in relevant ones. The more in tune with his body he became the more acrobatic movements he had added to his technique. The general acrobatics skill had increased his movement speed and given him the ability to disengage from a clashed opponent. Martial acrobatics let him move with alacrity when on a battlefield, overcoming obstacles and navigating difficult terrain.
Skill abilities had been both a positive and negative for Cire. Now, he had a use for his mana, but he lacked a lifetime of learning to manipulate it. His vampiric abilities and the powers granted through his territorial bond utilized mana, but not his own bodies. They drew from outside sources and channeled that strength through him as a vessel. Learning to draw up this unseen force internally had occupied the majority of his evenings after he left the gymnasium behind.
Eliana had taught him the basics of his flash step and surging strike skill abilities after had tested for them. That is to say, she gave him a book on basic mana manipulation and told him to read it. Then, she had demonstrated both abilities. Gathering mana in her hands and feet, she made a series of rapid movements and struck out with her sword as fast as lighting. If he hadn’t worked on his elven vision, he might not have been able to track her movements.
It had taken him days to activate each ability, but with each additional usage he had grown more accustomed to the feeling. He could feel the gathering of buzzing energy and the strength it temporarily released into his body as it dispersed. Like Selene’s flurry ability, a small blue wisp of smoke expelled as the mana pushed through his skin and out from the soles of his feet or the palms of his hands.
When he had crossed the level twenty threshold with swordsmanship he had finally met the requirements to select a profession, but he had been putting off visiting one of the towns shrines. He wanted to get Selene’s advice, he knew she still hadn’t selected a profession, and he had a good idea now as to why. However, with his training schedule and Daphne tying up most of her daughter’s time, no opportunity to bring it up had presented itself.
Cire still hadn’t met with the elders of the town either, so he hadn’t completed the quest that brought him here. He was demonstrating a bad habit of stalling or getting distracted halfway through quests. While his presence in the settlement was an oddity, he was still considered insignificant by the ruling powers. He didn’t want to do anything to disrupt that line of thinking. So, while he could have pressed Daphne to arrange a meeting, he was waiting for a more opportune occasion; the ball.
Pulling his shoes onto his feet, Cire felt Fizz give his shoulder a pat.
“Now, you’re going to come down to the Undergrowth with me tonight, friend. Everyday I’ve known you so far, it’s been training and back to the willow tower. I bet you just keep working on your skills there too. Tonight you’re going to get a drink with me, no excuses.”
“Is that why you went easy on me in our last match Fizz? Wanted to make sure I could still walk?”
“Of course not, you’re getting better. Besides, none of that matters, you owe me. I’ve gone plenty of extra rounds with you after every one else knocks off, now you’re going to go a couple of rounds with me.”
Cire headed to the stairs with the sandy haired gnome and they descended to the main level. Curiosity about the area beneath the pillars that the locals referred to as the “Undergrowth” had plagued him ever since he had come here. He could probably wander about town without drawing too much attention.
“Is that how it is? How about I meet you back here after I have had a chance to clean up?”
“Deal. Don’t take too long perfuming yourself pretty boy.” Fizz grinned and gave Cire’s thigh a light hearted punch.
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Lowering down to the ground level under the massive towering oaks of the administrative pillar, Cire, Fizz, and Honeydrop Cinnamonswirl waited for the counterweights of the elevator to settle before stepping off the platform into the Undergrowth. Honeydrop, a small hand sized fairy, flitted back and forth around their heads. She wore a yellow full length gown that had holes cut out for her delicate wings. Thrumming like a humming bird, she gave Cire goosebumps whenever she hovered near his ear to speak.
“Oooo, this should be exciting! Where are we going Fizz?”
“Well, I figured we would start out at Bellerophon’s Folly and then see where the night takes us. No use making plans when we are out looking for fun, best we let fun find us.” The gnome wore well made clothes, but the unmistakable outlines of his knives poked through.
Cire eyed his acquaintance warily as they walked amongst corridors of massive roots and swollen twisted trunks. Glow bulbs dangled from the woven ceiling of branches lighting the expansive warren. The group pulled up at a large open square, various stalls were separated by hanging curtains. In the far corner, a large cloth sign of a man falling off a pegasus hung above tightly packed tables and chairs.
“Fizz, you know I already have an unearned reputation through gossip and assumption. I would prefer not to add to it.”
Honeydrop landed on an empty table, tip toed three steps across it, and then took off again. She zipped to the bartender, who jumped backwards in startled surprise. Returning to the table with a tiny fairy sized chair, she plopped it in the center and sat down.
“Oh, I know it bloodsucker. Don’t grind your fangs dull, we’re just out for a night of good times,” Fizz said while climbing into a chair. He held up his hand signaling for a barmaid. Then he took a long stemmed pipe out from his jacket pocket and started stuffing it. Lighting the pipeweed with a candle from the table, the gnome took a long draw.
Swiveling his head around, Cire took note of the other patrons. No one seemed to be paying them much attention, nor had they reacted to Fizz’s off handed remarks. A young centaur barmaid nimbly made her way between the tables to them. It was hard to order over the multitude of conversations and distant music drifting in from other establishments. Frustrated and standing by stamping her foot, Honeydrop eventually flew up to the centaur’s ear and relayed what they wanted.
Drinks delivered and partially consumed, Cire had taken to watching the various patrons and foot traffic around the pub. All sorts of people casually walked through the marketplace. He didn’t see any pixies or fairies, besides Honeydrop, but he lost track of the number of centaurs, satyrs, and various elves. Moon, wood, and glade elves made up the bulk of the elvish population in the Tempest Treetops, but he knew there were others. Each elven sub-species had an affinity for a general terrain and magic type. For example, oceanic elves tended to live in or near bodies of water and had high aptitude for Water Magic.
Cire had never asked Maisy to test his magical aptitude, but he knew nowthat as a sun elf he was predisposed to Holy Magic. That didn’t mean he would actually have the skill, as evidenced by Selene’s lack of talent for the Light and Dark Magic associated with moon elves or the Earth magic preferred by wood elves. He thought it would be ironic if he could cast Holy spells because of his natural weakness to the magic from the cursed side of his vampire lineage.
It’s nice that those traits have been more clearly defined now that I know more about sun elves and vampires. That weird text about other elements revealing themselves went away. I wonder if they will still evolve? My money is on absolutely. The status sheet appears to be more of a reflection of who I am and what I know, not a limiting factor.
If I get Holy Magic, would I cast it fifty percent weaker than a regular caster? If I cast some sort of buff spell, would it hurt me? I should really ask someone who knows more about magic than I do.
I bet if I go to the temple of Selene they will treat me better than the other shrines. She’s the patron goddess of vampires. I could probably ask Daphne too, but I don’t want to get in any deeper if I can get help elsewhere. I don’t think the journal I gave her buys me more than the cost of enrollment at the academy and everything else she has insisted on giving me. Selene warned me enough times to not get in too deep with mother that I’m not going to ignore her.
Clapping her small hands right in front of Cire’s nose, Honeydrop hovered with her hands on her hips. “No thinking about training, skills, or magic. We’re here to have fun! I don’t know what you were thinking about mister, but joy it was not. Now drink!”
She flew down and bear hugged his mug of ale and flew back up, cramming the wooden rim into his mouth, sloshing his face with brew. Mock batting her away from him, it was futile to actually try and hit her, Cire grabbed his mug. Then he rubbed his lips together before taking a draw.
“Always so serious about your fun Honey? You’re never this excited about sparring.”
Fizz blew a smoke ring and chuckled, “I’m always excited for sparring, but whats the point if you don’t enjoy yourself in between?”
Flying a loop through the smoke ring before settling back down on her small chair, Honeydrop lifted her miniature glass champagne flute skyward.
“I get excited about sparring, but elves are so resistant to my enchantments it’s not fair!” She pouted and then immediately smiled. “A toast! To our merry little band of misfits, may we all stay safe at the ball.”
Cire rose an eyebrow, “Don’t you mean when we go out on patrol?”
“No, of course I mean the ball. All of the ‘Tops high society gathered in one place, there will be more political intrigue afoot than between the gods during the games of Olympus.”
They toasted and finished their drinks before walking to another bar. Cire couldn’t keep track of their meandering route through the maze of corridors, curtains, and trunks. Somewhere towards the middle, deep within the burrows, they stumbled through the thick curtains of a bar whose sign boasted a satyr holding a cornucopia of grapes. An over sized phallus dangled between the goat-god’s legs.
Sitting themselves at the bar, a giant shaped and smoothed cypress root, the three inebriated classmates ordered another round of drinks. Honeydrop turned an empty shot glass over and perched on it facing the other two. She was about to speak, when a grizzled and scarred wood elf thumped the bar loudly next to them.
“Give me another round. We’re gonna be at war soon, I plan to make the most of my time before.”
Filling the patrons glass quickly, the satyr behind the bar looked uncomfortable with the disturbance. He gave a quick bleat and another satyr, with a sharp black beard and fur, started playing a jaunty tune on his pipes. The veteran elf eyed the bar tender and then snatched his drink. Downing it and tossing a coin to clink on the wood, he turned and walked away mumbling under his breath.
“Gods damned swamp witch and her...”
Fizz, Cire, and Honeydrop each watched the man go. The vampire was the first to pick up his new glass and hold it up. With the mood appropriately soured, he went for the easy, if inappropriate, joke.
“May we all stay safe at the ball.”