Xango POV: Day 69
Current Wealth: 21 gold 31 silver 14 copper
Solitaire stood before me, just a few metres away, and smiled. He smiled cockily, grin lop-sided, confident, charming. It was a grin that promised trouble, mischief, a grin worn by a man who knew perfectly well how clever he was, and didn’t see a damned problem with showing the world. It was a grin that said; “Quick, look over here, before you miss how great I am!”
And yet it was a grin that promised no great cruelty or harm, no real damage done, and no line crossed. It was the grin of a troublesome little boy, because it was the grin he’d worn back when he’d been just that. Impish, not demonic. Dastardly, not evil. The grin of a man who’d never even humoured a dark intention.
Blood dripped down from his fingers, pooling by his feet. A metre beside it there was another pool, made from the twin rivers of ichor drizzled out of an orc’s eyes, then bolstered by the flood released when I put it out of its misery with a head shot. Whenever I blinked, that momentary darkness was filled by the sight of a screaming enemy and the sound of its agony. By the twisted, snarling face my friend had worn while he made himself the cause of both. While everyone held their silence, I heard the sounds of crimson droplets hitting the floor, of limbs jerking with the last spasmodic impulses of dying nerves.
Solitaire looked at me. He grinned. It was the grin of a man who’d never even humoured a dark intention.
“So, looks like there were few enough for us to take, after all.” He noted, proudly, turning and eying the room as a whole. “Actually I reckon we could’ve taken a few more, too, worth noting, that.”
I wanted to scream at him, to storm across the room and punch that lying grin off his vicious face, but Helena and Argar were here. Our friends? No, not yet. Our companions, maybe, but our subordinates before anything. People who believed in us, who followed us, and whose help would be compromised if they thought we were fracturing. If they saw us doing so before their very eyes.
So I bit my tongue, mastered myself as quickly as I could, and forced out the most convincingly neutral answer I was able to.
There’d be time to confront my friend later, but that time was not now.
“Yes, well, it could’ve easily been more.” I replied, curtly. “A lot more, not just a few, let’s not make a habit of this if possible. I’d prefer we deal in sure things.”
Solitaire shrugged, and even I couldn’t tell whether he was aware of the struggle I’d just gone through in giving him a response other than fury.
“Hopefully we’ll have a few more men, next time, too. They are cheaper than plate armour, aren’t they?”
He’d; done it on purpose, must have, but that didn’t change that the candid intellectualisation gave me something starkly practical to think about, and my mind rushed towards it eagerly.
“Less reliable than plate.” I noted, and we all started our search of the place, looking for potentially valuable loot. Orc teeth were, sadly, too mismatched in human mouths to be of much use to this world’s dentists. We’d found that much out from one of the more experienced mercenaries in Elswick. On the bright side, knowing early had saved us the cost of some pliers.
As might have been expected, there wasn’t a whole lot of value to be scavenged from the hideout. That didn’t stop us from drawing every possible droplet of wealth that there was, however. The orcs hadn’t been raiding as much as many of their kind, which meant we didn’t find much in the way of precious metals. They still had a few stolen human weapons, which would sell for a nice bit for their steel make, and plenty of various knicknacks that if nothing else could be melted down for the metal fittings worked into them. All told we ended up with about a sack and a half of various items we’d all gauged would be relatively expensive compared to how much they weighed.
One gave me pause, though. A little doll, made of clay and straw, lying beside the tools I could see had been used for chiselling and etching it. Lying next to one of the orc’s beds. It was a child’s doll, surely, and my stomach dropped out of me at the sight.
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In Redacle, orcs were violent, and they weren’t as smart as humans. But that didn’t make them animals. They could still feel emotion, fear, love, empathy. They could learn to be good- much like almost any sapient thing could. They still took care of their children.
Feeling suddenly sick, I considered leaving the doll just on instinct, but an impulse had me take it with me. It’d be destroyed, surely, whenever the fort’s new human garrison reclaimed it. Something about the thought bothered me, the work was ugly, but it’d clearly taken time and effort. Time and effort the workman would never see bear fruit, now, because of us. Had he be the one Solitaire had-
No, I stopped that thought before it could exit its infancy. Pocketing the item, I turned back to the group and forced a strength that was entirely absent from me to show on my face.
“Alright, let’s head out now, the carriage should still be waiting but I’d rather not risk giving that money-grubbing prick the time to ditch us.”
A few grumbles of agreement rang out, and we started trudging for the exit.
Neither me, nor Solitaire or Beam, had asked about stats. That was because we’d already talked about the notion before departing, in private and away from Argar and Helena. It wasn’t that we didn’t trust our new companions with the knowledge of how exactly we grew so strong so quickly, of course. It was that Solitaire, specifically, did not trust them. He’d come around- I knew he would- it’d just take him a while.
Odd, that. I could so confidently convince myself he was still the person I knew. No, so confidently know it, without any convincing required. I’d seen him torture a man for seemingly no reason at all, and somehow that wasn’t even slightly at odds with knowing he was the same person I’d met as a kid. What did that say about me?
Well, obviously that I had a twisted fucking taste in friends. I kept on trudging out through the fort, loot bag slung over one shoulder.
[Appraisal]
* Class: Emperor
* Level: 12
* Condition: Fine
* Modifiers: +5 Toughness, +2 Strength, +3 Speed, +1 Alertness
* Statistics: Strength 8, Speed 8, Dexterity 6, Stamina 5, Toughness 9, Alertness 9, Charisma 9, Intelligence 8
* Inventory: Local wear, plate armour, repeater, shortspear
* Class abilities: Appraisal III
* Current Experience Points: 8/400
* Unspent Skillpoints: 2
It was interesting to see the name of my new local clothing, then again we’d known, already, that the menu seemed to give things names based on what their owner thought of them. More interesting to see we’d gained a level, however. Only one though. I suppose that made sense, orcs were big and strong, but a few dozen of them weren’t exactly on the same level of danger as the Gigatroll, or that vampire. One level was plenty for our means, anyway, every little bit of power we got was one step closer to…
Well, to whatever we were going to do with it, I supposed. Rule the world? It sounded so silly, put like that. But it was a matter for later. I focused on spending my points.
It was tempting to just go with Alertness and Speed, but Solitaire had assured me that his little repeater didn’t hit that hard compared to Redacle’s real monsters. One day I might regret not having the extra strength, and there were plenty of situations where brawling would still be needed. I decided, in the end, to put my points into Speed and Strength, a happy compromise. No need to keep away from mobility entirely, just because I’d still need to crack heads open in the future.
[Appraisal]
* Class: Emperor
* Level: 12
* Condition: Fine
* Modifiers: +5 Toughness, +3 Strength, +4 Speed, +2 Alertness
* Statistics: Strength 9, Speed 9, Dexterity 6, Stamina 5, Toughness 9, Alertness 9, Charisma 9, Intelligence 8
* Inventory: Local wear, plate armour, repeater, shortspear
* Class abilities: Appraisal III
* Current Experience Points: 8/400
* Unspent Skillpoints: 0
I must’ve been getting used to the feeling of power infusing my body, but it still sent a flutter of excitement running along every nerve I had. Giving yourself superpowers would do that, I supposed, and it certainly helped that the sack on my back suddenly felt that little bit lighter. As did the plate armour, for that matter. I frowned at that, considering the implications.
Could we have our armour thickened, as we got stronger? Yes, of course we could, I actually remembered Solitaire mentioning something about ultra-thick sheet metal plates being used by certain factions, back when Redacle had just been a project we were working on together with Beam. I’d have to ask about it later.
I trudged back to the carriage with the others, finding the walk made a lot more tedious from the weight of my thoughts than the weight of my luggage.