Locksley
Outer City
Jacob squinted up at the dual suns in the sky, a hint of annoyance tinging his expression. The advent of the second sun brought with it an oppressive heat. The sweltering temperatures were made all the more unbearable by the stench of decaying corpses - both human and monster alike - that littered the city.
Astride his armored grey steed, Jacob held his lance at the ready to repel any who dared approach. He and his squadron of seven riders formed an impervious bulwark against the beasts that infested the city. A lone hobgoblin, however, brazenly rushed towards Jacob, its own spear poised to skewer him.
"Repugnant beast," Jacob muttered, deftly driving his lance through the charging monster. The hobgoblin's weapon may have boasted a decent reach, but it was no match for the knight's formidable lance.
Once the hobgoblin fell, a member of Jacob's squad edged his horse closer. “Captain, were we not supposed to wait for the prince first? Did the plans change?”
"You're green, aren't you?" Jacob responded, a note of derision in his voice. "Leave such concerns to me. I know Prince Tristan better than anyone. He will very much appreciate our scouting efforts to make sure the plaza is safe before his arrival.”
“Eh, I see. Sorry for my intrusion…” The novice knight retreated hesitantly, resuming his position within the formation.
Jacob watched him return to his post with a trace of a confident smile. However, as he turned back to face the desolate cityscape, his expression had once again shifted, assuming a stoic neutrality.
I would be mad to leave this opportunity. I need to get to the plaza first to gain those magical powers.
Jacob had observed with a potent mix of awe and resentment as the elderly man's strength burgeoned, surpassing his own hard-earned capabilities. The old man needed only to slay a handful of those grotesque beasts to amass a power that Jacob had devoted an entire lifetime to cultivate.
With the despotic reign of Nalia and her henchmen overthrown, an opening had presented itself - an opportunity that Jacob could not afford to overlook. He couldn't passively sit back, entrusting his fate to the whims of the soon-to-arrive prince, who would undoubtedly lay claim to the plaza and wield control over who could and couldn't amass the coveted powers. Such a wait could prove fatal, and even if he were to survive, the early bird knights bestowed with the powers would be poised for exponential advancement. They would ascend to prestigious ranks of centillion leaders or even vice-generals, while Jacob would remain tethered to his unremarkable post as a mere squadron leader. Such a prospect was untenable, he couldn't let this transpire.
Soon enough, their path led them through the ghost of a once thriving marketplace, its current desolation bearing testament to recent turmoil. Their journey ended at the plaza, where the sight of the four gargantuan statues provoked a broad smile to stretch across Jacob's face. They were every bit as magnificent as the tales had suggested - their grandeur living up to every whispered rumor that had tantalized his curiosity.
“So these are the magical statues we heard about?” One of the knights nudged his armored steed closer to Jacob, his eyes reflecting the grand spectacle before them. "What's our next move, captain?"
"Survey the surroundings first," commanded Jacob, his tone authoritative. “Make sure that whore’s goons are nowhere to be seen.”
“Roger that, captain.”
Heeding Jacob's mandate, the squadron of knights scattered across the expansive plaza, their gazes sweeping over the space, vigilant and calculating. They had already borne witness to the viciousness Nalia's followers were capable of unleashing, from a distance nonetheless, and had no desire to incite their wrath unnecessarily.
Simultaneously, Jacob found himself drawn towards the statue depicting a warrior, its intense countenance and air of indomitable strength resonating with his spirit. It epitomized the apex of masculine prowess, a beacon for every man to aspire towards.
A smile of anticipation spread across Jacob's face as he edged his horse closer to the towering figure of stone and marble. The instant his hand came into contact with the statue, his eyes widened, flitting with a surge of unexpected surprise.
Would you like to choose the Warrior class?
What in the Gods’ good names is this sorcery…?
For a fleeting moment, fear coiled around Jacob's heart, only to be swiftly supplanted by an uncontainable exuberance. This was his chance.
"I choose the Warrior class," he declared with resolve.
Choose one of these starting abilities
Abilities Power Strike Imbue your weapon with magical power and strike the enemy with an attack that deals additional damage. Charge Allows the warrior to quickly close the distance to their target, potentially stunning or knocking them down with a small shockwave Taunting Shout Provokes enemies to focus their attacks on the warrior, protecting more vulnerable party members. Weapon Proficiency (Passive) Allows the warrior to use various types of melee weapons effectively, such as swords, axes, and maces. Shield Proficiency (Passive) Grants the ability to use shields for added defense, helping to block or deflect incoming attacks.
Jacob was far from a competent reader, but these unfamiliar symbols and characters seemed to etch themselves into his understanding as though he had been intimately familiar with them for his entire life. He swiftly perused the list of potential abilities, discerning almost instantaneously which appealed to him most.
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"Give me the Power Strike," he commanded with conviction.
Congratulations, you have become a warrior. You can check your information by simply saying or thinking “Display Panel”
As the notification message dissolved, it took a moment for Jacob to digest the enormity of his transformation. His rigid expression fractured into a barely suppressed smirk, a ripple of laughter threatening to break the surface before he regained his composure.
Surveying his surroundings, Jacob noticed that his comrades too, stationed alongside the statues, were in the throes of the emotional tumult he'd just navigated.
This is great. This is amazing! If I play my cards right, I might even become a general by the end of the year!
However, his imagination was abruptly halted by the distinct crunch of footsteps on gravel. His gaze darted toward the noise, alighting upon three silhouettes emerging from the grandiose entrance of a formidable stone edifice. Two lean figures flanked a monstrous entity on their right.
"Who goes there?" Jacob's voice boomed across the plaza, arresting his squadron's attention and drawing their eyes toward the building's entrance. The figures soon sauntered into the light, unveiling themselves - a colossus of a man with bulging muscles, a spruce, slender middle-aged man, and a slender woman garbed in green.
On seeing the woman, Jacob's eyes dilated in shock. He cast a rapid, furtive glance around, his senses on high alert for any potential threats. Only once he confirmed his safety did he allow himself to exhale a deep, measured breath.
“Nalia, you whore!” he spat venomously. “You dare show yourself here with none of your treacherous underlings? Do you not cherish life!”
“A bunch of rats already appeared?” Ragnor, the hulking man, cracked his knuckles and neck, a menacing prelude to the impending skirmish. “I wanted to test these new powers you gave us, and these morons came here just at the right time.”
“Take a deep breath, Ragnor, and don’t let your muscles do the thinking for you,” retorted Soren, the slender man, before he cast a disdainful glance at Jacob and his assembled knights. “What use is there in going all out against such weaklings?”
As the two men bickered, Jacob seized the opportunity to strategically align his knights. Observing Ragnor and Soren's momentary distraction, he scoffed, refusing to squander the advantage.
"Charge the traitors!" His call to arms rang out across the plaza, a thunderous warcry propelling his squadron forward on their mounts, a ferocious tide crashing towards the trio.
Jacob led the onslaught, his lance poised menacingly. As he galloped forward, he found his thoughts drawn to the formidable skill he had recently acquired, and a smirk danced on his lips.
Power Strike!
His lance was bathed in an ethereal blue glow, its lethal potential amplified as if fueled by an arcane force. The transformed weapon filled Jacob with an unassailable confidence, bolstering his belief that even a bear, should one stand before him, would be impaled by his imbued lance, its heart skewered mercilessly.
Yet, this newfound assurance crumbled to dust as his gaze locked onto Nalia. A disturbing realization pierced his conviction: she was smiling.
Her expression was insouciant, rendering their fervent assault into a frivolous display of child's play in her eyes. Her indifference ignited a fury within Jacob that far surpassed any provocation he had ever endured.
Particularly arresting were her eyes - tranquil yet glowing with an otherworldly blue radiance that mirrored the mystical hue of Jacob's lance. They bore an uncanny resemblance to a vast, crystalline ocean captured and confined within the depth of her gaze.
Jacob found himself caught in their ethereal allure, spellbound to the point of irrationality, ensnared within her mesmerizing pupils. Time seemed to halt its inexorable march, leaving him transfixed atop his charging warhorse. For an elongated heartbeat, Jacob succumbed to a sensation of being entrapped within an interminable time warp, a prison from which escape seemed impossible. As the despair began to coil around his heart, solidifying his belief, an abrupt whooshing sound zipped past him.
Jacob's perspective skewed, his gaze still locked with Nalia's, yet now his eyes were forced to pivot as his view tilted. Suddenly, a horse thundered past him.
Lifting his gaze to the rider, the puzzlement of the previous moments crystallized into a horrifying epiphany. The man atop the galloping steed was headless.
The lifeless body soon toppled from the frenzied horse, which continued its relentless charge toward the awaiting trio. Yet, as it neared them, Ragnor seized the creature in a vice-like grip, throttling the life from its arteries. The animal thrashed in futile protest for a few agonizing moments before succumbing to the monstrous assault.
Jacob was transfixed, his expression etched in a mask of shock. His aspirations had been tantalizingly within reach, yet as his vision blurred and faded, he was brutally confronted by the harsh and unforgiving face of reality.
“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Ragnor's voice, laced with malevolent glee, bore into Jacob's psyche, inciting a primitive fear within him despite the severed link with his heart.
The monstrous figure took imposing strides towards the dying Jacob. Upon reaching him, Ragnor seized Jacob's head, turning it forcibly to face the remains of his squadron. Despite the blurriness that veiled his vision and the fog that clouded his consciousness, Jacob could discern the shadowy forms of his fallen comrades, and the dreadful truth of their fate resonated within him.
They had been annihilated.