CHAPTER 12
“Damn, dude! He just straight-up executed those bony bastards!”
“I must say, I’m rather impressed with that as well.”
“He was all, ‘Ungh, arrow shot! Don’t give a shit! Gonna crush you with a wall and sucker punch you in the face!’ He’s like a honey badger!”
“Oh Lord, let’s not get carried away. He beat three of the lowest undead in the entire game.”
“Four! Don’t forget the one that shot him! In the fucking chest!”
“Once again, did you really expect him to fail? He probably could have laid there and let the skeletons beat on him for a while, then got up and killed them.”
“Nope, wrong. Remember, he did that already with the rats? And they bit his effing face off!”
“Ok, I will give you, he is learning. His skills are coming together nicely. Between his Long Blades and Shields skill advancing, as well as his first attempt at a shield charge, he dispatched them quite nicely.”
“Damn skippy.”
“Now the real question is, what will the game throw at him next?”
“Meh, it’s too early to think about that. He hasn’t even tried leveling yet. I want to see what that’s going to look like.”
“Well we’ve already seen which bartering system he is working with, it’ll be interesting to see where he goes with leveling.”
“Want to make another bet? Double or nothing?”
“I’d say since you owe me from the first one, I don’t think you can afford me.”
“What the hell are you talking about? He chose to be a mage, you said he’d choose to be a fighter.”
“Correct. And seeing as he’s made it ten times farther in his life as a fighter than his life as a mage, I’d say I’m winning that bet handily.”
*pause*
“All right, we’ll call it a draw.”
After I catch my breath, the first thing I do is open the first of the slew of notification icons in the lower right corner of my view.
CONGRATULATIONS!
You have improved your LONG BLADE skill to Level 2! With blade flashing and blood flying, you have proven that the sword is mightier than the pen! MUCH mightier!
+2 to all LONG BLADE rolls (+8 total)
CONFIRM
And there it is again, I think to myself. Plus 2? What does that even mean? I close the window with a backhand before a thought strikes me. “If I can analyze monsters and items with a thought, is there some kind of similar function in the system for stats and skills?”
I open the skill notification window again, and let my eyes hover over the “+2 to all LONG BLADE rolls” line. Sure enough, a second later a sub-window appears.
Skills are measured by points, adding to rolls by a 1:1 percentage ratio to most related attempts, and a 1:2 ratio for other uses.
Examples:
A skill level of 5 in any weapon would allow a +5% increase to hit, and a +10% increase to damage. A skill level of 7 in any armor allows for -7% decrease in physical damage taken, and a +14% to AC A skill level 11 in any Resistances means a -11% damage taken from that particular source.
These percentages are in addition to any bonuses and benefits from the appropriate character stat.(Ex: Might for damage)
“Well, that makes a whole helluva lot more sense,” I complain. “Why doesn’t the notification window just measure them in percentages?”
I close the description with a “pfft” and another annoyed flick of my wrist before I’m greeted with a bit of a shock. The Long Blade skill window is still open, but there’s been a change.
CONGRATULATIONS!
You have improved your LONG BLADE skill to Level 2! Whether it’s for justice, pain, or blood, make your enemies quake with fear from the flashing of your blade!
+2% increase to hit
+4% increase to damage
CONFIRM
“Huh,” I grunt in surprise. ““Ok, so I can change how I see the information in notification windows. I like this better.” I open the next skill advancement notification icon, and sure enough the change has occurred in my Shields skill as well.
CONGRATULATIONS!
You have improved your SHIELDS skill to Level 2! Shields can protect you from any physical attack, and even absorb some magical attacks as well! It’s not hiding, it’s BLOCKING!
-2% to damage taken
+4% armor rating for any shield
CONFIRM
“Ok, that works. If I can change WHEN I see the notification windows, it stands to make sense that I can change the HOW as well.”
Next I open my character sheet. Now that I understand a bit more about skills, I do the same analysis on my physical stats and I’m rewarded with a notification block on how they work.
Might
Agility
Constitution
Perception
Intelligence
Charisma
Luck
Per point:
+.5 melee dam.
+.5% to crits
Per point:
+.5% to hit
+.5% to dodge
Per point:
+.5% to resists
+1 hp/min
Per point:
+.5 to spot
+.5 range dam.
Per point:
+.1% to xp
+1 mana/min
Per point:
+.5 to reactions
Per point:
Affects all skills and random events by .5%
After making a few changes to my character interface, including moving the “% to next level” numbers over a couple of columns and just cleaning up the interface in general, I am rewarded with this.
NAME: STONEHEART
POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE:
TITLE: MASTER
RACE: HUMAN
CLASS: FIGHTER
CHARACTER STATS:
Might 19
Agility 9
Constitution 9
Perception 9
Intelligence 9
Charisma 9
Luck 9
Stamina (M+A+C+50) 87/87
Mana (P+I+C+50) 77/77
Hitpoints (M+A+C+L+P+50) 105/105
STATS (4 PER LEVEL): 0
ABILITY (1 PER LEVEL): 0
EXPERIENCE: 800
PROG. TO NEXT LEVEL: 2/10
+9.5 melee/ +9.5% to crits
+4.5% to hit/ +4.5% to dodge
+4.5% to resists/ +9 hp/min
+4.5 to spot/ +4.5 range dam.
+.9% to xp/ +4.5 to magic
+4.5 to social reactions
Affects all skills by 4.5%
SKILLS: % TO NEXT LEVEL:
UNARMED COMBAT 1 (0%)
STEALTH 3 (0%)
STEALTH ATTACK 2 (0%)
BLADES
SMALL BLADES 2 (0%)
LONG BLADES 2 (9%)
AXES (ALL) 1 (0%)
MACES (ALL) 1 (0%)
SHIELDS 2 (3%)
PERSUASION 2 (0%)
ARMOR (ALL)
LIGHT 2 (0%)
MEDIUM 1 (0%)
HEAVY 1 (0%)
INTIMIDATE 1 (0%)
SPELLS NONE
ABILITIES NONE
PERKS Master
“Ok, so I get bonuses that add to the performance of various tasks,” I muse to myself. “Looks like some of them will stack, like the bonus damages from both Might and Long Blades.” I look closer at my Might skill bonus and give a low whistle. “So, for every two points I put into my Might, I get another point of damage with any weapon?” I nod appreciatively at that. “That explains how I was killing those skeletons with a couple of shots, even though my blade wasn’t really damaging them all that much. I hit with almost 10 extra points of damage every time!”
I look over at the skeleton bits scattered around the forest floor, and some of them hold that tell-tale “otherness” that indicates loot. Let’s see what you bony bastards are dropping these days, I grunt as I stand up gingerly. I hesitate one more moment, taking inventory of my own self as I stand there. I flex my fingers in my gloves and my toes in my boots, then bounce as lightly as I can on my toes. My stamina bar has refilled completely, as has my red health globe, and I roll my shoulders back as far as I can. Not even a hint of ache from where that arrow struck me just a few minutes ago, I marvel. I remember the crushing pain of the impact hitting my chest, and yet I wager that if I were to check under my armor right now, there wouldn’t even be a bruise. I briefly consider diving back into my character screen to try and find my regeneration rate, but I decide I’ve already wasted enough time farting around. That drive to test myself, to fight, is almost a physical force pushing me from behind, daring me to go farther down the ancient stone road.
If I go down this path, am I going to face something that will kill me again? I force myself to stop and think. Am I going to find the tomb of a lich or some otherworldly power that will destroy me with a flick of its wrist, or does this lead to just a couple more skeletons in an abandoned graveyard? I look down at myself again, evaluating my gear. The sword, crappy as it is, doesn’t feel like it’s going to fly apart, and thinking about my trek through the forest, there were significantly less trees and shrubs snagging on my scale armor. I didn’t even feel those that did, so I am protected at the very least. Plus I did just take an arrow to the chest and there’s not a scratch on me.
Weighing all those factors, I decide that my return to Bladewater can wait for a bit. This is an area that I’ve never been in, and I’m not even sure where I am in relation to the town. Considering that every time I have stepped from the starting campsite I have been in the forest roughly to the north and west of Bladewater, I probably am once again, but I don’t recognize anything that I’ve seen so far. I haven’t even run across a stream or river.
As I decide my next move, a thought crosses my mind. Do I even *want* to go back to that place? And if I do, is it for revenge or to own up to what I did? If it’s revenge, I’m going to need better equipment. And where better to get that than from a dungeon?
I pause again, and say out loud, “But if I don’t go back for revenge, it won’t matter what equipment I have, because they’ll probably just kill me again.”
I bang my sword against a nearby tree to jolt me back to reality. “Can’t think about that.” Nodding my head, I say, “All right, in we go.”
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“First things first,” I amend, after seeing the skeletal remains scattered around me again.
I approach the bones of the skeletal archer and reach down to touch one.
WOULD YOU LIKE TO LOOT RICKETY SKELETAL ARCHER?
Warped Wooden Arrow x3
Worn Short Bow
Skull
Loot all?
CONFIRM CANCEL
What the hell? Why would I want to loot a skull? I take a look at the short bow, first in the system window then with my own eyes, and decide I can’t really trust this thing not to snap on my first attempt at bending it. “And here I thought my sword was in semi-bad shape,” I muse. I click CANCEL and the window vanishes.
I pick up the thigh bone closest to me, wondering if it would make a decent bludgeoning weapon. Thankfully there isn’t anything disgusting on it, like dried meat or sinew hanging from the socket end. No notification window pops up, though, which I assume means it can’t be used as a weapon. I experimentally smack it against my armored forearm, but it’s light weight and brittle feel confirms that this thing would be about as effective a weapon as a handful of uncooked spaghetti. The magic that holds these things together must be pretty strong, I think to myself, but the skeletons are still just brittle old bones. I cut through that thing's femur like kindling.
Without another thought I toss the bone away.
After looting the other scattered remains of the skeletons, my total amount of “treasure” includes two more worn blades in worse shape than my own and another shield, this one with no arrow jutting out of it. I swap out shields just for the hell of it.
There is also a broken sword and a small leather pouch with a dozen or so copper coins on the skeleton I crushed with the stone wall. I add the pouch and coins to my inventory and look around one more time.
My eyes are finally drawn back down the stone pathway and I nod firmly once.
I promise to myself that if things go sideways, I will retreat and regroup before pressing further. No point in ending up back in character generation once again. I draw my sword and slide into a stealth stance. Sure enough, my eyecon appears, but once I start moving, I realize that no matter how silent I try to be, I can feel the restriction from my armor. It doesn’t move nearly as smoothly as the leather did, and there is the constant metallic sound of the scales sliding with every step. I smile to myself, thinking once more of all the times in other games where there is a penalty imposed for wearing medium or heavy armor and trying to sneak around. I guess I’m living proof as to why rogues don’t wear the heavier stuff.
Still, I figure since my stamina isn’t dropping yet, I’m not actively hiding from someone. Which, of course, calls to mind that annoying little voice of logic. If you didn’t know you were hiding from something, why would the system automatically assume you were? I could have a dozen goblins staring at me from the treetops, but if I didn’t know they were there, I wouldn’t know to hide. I would just be sneaking along, oblivious to the fact that they were about to pincushion my ass.
I glance up into the trees out of reflex, but see nothing but the emerald green leaves of the aspen and birch trees surrounding me. I shrug and continue walking.
My eyes, along with scanning the surrounding forest, occasionally flick down to the ground to ensure I’m still following the massive stone path that originally caught my attention. I almost lose it on two occasions from the amount of leaves and dirt obscuring the stones, but it's easily found after a brief search. The forest seems to have been trying to reclaim this road for decades... or centuries.
When I come to a turn of sorts in the road where it bends around another large outcropping of stones, I hear a rhythmic crunching sound echoing through the forest. It’s quiet and has a strange, double-pulse to it. It takes me a second to identify, but when I do, everything snaps into place.
I approach the large rock as quietly as I can and place both hands on it to steady myself. It’s a huge, natural collection of boulders that looms nearly ten feet high. I walk to the nearest edge and peek my head around, looking in shock at what I see.
There is a graveyard out here in the middle of the forest. A rusty, wrought-iron gate hangs from a busted hinge, and periodic stone pillars, very similar to the one that first caught my attention, stand every ten feet or so apart. Some are connected by more wrought-iron fencing, sharp barbs pointing up to the leafy canopy above. Over two dozen moss-covered headstones fill the enclosure, some are stereotypical stone tablets, others higher-end statues. Over in the corner there’s even a small mausoleum, barely ten feet to a side, a disintegrating iron gate clinging to it’s post. The “wall” isn’t more than three feet high and was obviously designed more for decoration than for keeping anything in or out. Couple that with the fact that several sections of the iron fence are missing entirely, and it is plain to see that this graveyard is ancient, its occupants long-forgotten.
Which probably explains why no one would notice the hunched figure in black robes plunging a shovel into the ground before stepping on the back portion of the blade to drive it further in. That is the double-pulse sound I heard as I approached, I confirm, the shovel striking the ground, followed by the second foot-driven thrust.
Now that I am closer and have an unimpeded view of the figure violating the graves, I can hear him mumbling things under his breath as he digs. It sounds like he’s having a conversation with someone, but there is no one else there. I even listen for a bit to see if there is someone sitting out of sight, leaning against one of the tilted and ancient headstones dotting the small cemetery.
Right as I’m about to step around the rocks and approach the grave robber, I see them. They are standing with the preternatural stillness that only the undead can, which explains why I missed them the first time around. Their dirt-caked bones peek through the grime encrusted all over them, nearly matching the surrounding aspen trees.
My eyes dart around to see how many of them there are, and I count 4. I analyze them briefly and confirm my thoughts. Shit, I think to myself. I can probably take them out quick enough since they are the same type as the other guys I just downed, but that’s without taking the guy in the black robes into consideration. I shake my head slowly as I think, If he’s a necromancer, he’s got several more spells up his sleeve no doubt. I chuckle silently to myself as I consider my own failed attempt at the craft. He looks quite a bit farther along than I was.
He is digging with a hurried pace, and I realize that even though I walked for nearly ten minutes before I came to this juncture, I am almost certain that my barbaric yawp of victory carried at least this far. If he used the same spell to raise those guys that I did to raise Boner the Rat, there is probably a time limit on them. He wouldn’t have raised them if there was no need, and that means he is digging to make more. I step back around the cover of the giant rock to consider my options.
As I sit there in limbo about what to do, a thin reedy voice floats to me from behind the stones.
“I heard you hollering back there, and I can hear your armor clanking like a forge hammer, so you might as well step out and talk.” The rhythmic thunk-scrape of the shovel hasn’t slowed in the slightest, and I consider staying hidden behind my rock like an ostrich with its head in the sand. After a moment’s hesitation though, I push off from the wall and walk around the boulder, dropping stealth as I do so.
All four skeletons have turned to face me, still standing there like mouldy, dirty statues. Their hollow eyes have a disturbingly familiar violet light emanating from their sockets, and I confirm that yes, he probably used the same spell I did to raise Boner. That’s actually a pretty good idea, I absently think as I look the skeletons over. He comes out here to gather bones to take back to some lair where he stores them or raises them or experiments on them in peace and quiet.
I shake my head at the disturbing thought. I almost sound like I admire this grave-robbing piece of shit.
He doesn’t even take his eyes off the hole he’s quickly descending into as he digs. “Who sent you? Why are you out here spying on me? What do you want?”
I open my mouth to answer him before closing it with an audible snap. This question gives me great pause as I consider it. What *do* I want? Am I here to stop him? What do I care if he’s digging up old bones and making skeletons out of them? I think for a bit before I finally say, “I actually have no plans or reason. I was just out wandering around when I stumbled on the flagstones of a path.” I laugh before continuing, “And I think one of your skeletons shot me in the chest with an arrow.”
“Well,” a grunted reply comes, punctuating each motion as the man continues to dig, “which was it?”
Again I’m thrown off by his perfunctory tone. My head tilts to the side and my eyes narrow slightly. “Which was what?”
A great sigh of annoyance comes from the swiftly disappearing man as his shovel bites deeper and deeper into the earth. “Which was it, do you think it was one of my skeletons, or do you think it shot you?”
An explosion of laughter barks out from my mouth before I can stop it. “Uh, I know for a fact it shot me, so I guess that means I... think it was...yours?” My voice trails off at the last word, pitch raising into that of an uncertain question.
“You would be correct. I would apologize for that, but it did exactly as I told it to.” There is a pause in the man’s voice as his shovel thunks into something hard. After a moment, he continues, “And so I ask again, who sent you? Why are you out here spying on me? What do you want?”
I pause for a moment, looking around, and then in a moment of absolute transparency, I let him have it.
“I want to figure out why my life sucks," I state bluntly. "I plugged myself into this damn game so I could live out every gamer’s fantasy and cast spells and kill shit and fight monsters, but nothing has lived up to the expectations I set up. For me, for my life, for this game.” Once it starts coming out, I literally have no control over it. “I’ve died over and over again, mostly because of my own stupidity, and I just want to live my life and adventure and have fun and play this like a single-player game, but the NPC’s are too damn real.” I can hear the shoveling has stopped, but I don’t care. “I killed a guy! On accident! He bit me and my knife went through his throat like hot butter! And it wasn’t even a sharp knife, not really! The game listed it as “worn” but it sure as shit was sharp enough, and I got his blood all over me, then they chopped me and stabbed me with pikes and swords and then I woke in that DAMN clearing again, naked and shaking but at least all the blood was gone, so I grabbed a sword and ran out of the clearing wanting to go kill those guards but now I realize that I don’t want to I just want to adventure and play and HAVE SOME FUCKING FUN!” The last words come out in a rush, my voice rising in volume until the last words hang in the air, shouted at the top of my lungs.
My breath heaves, my chest rising and falling as my heart beats a rapid tattoo inside my chest.
The graveyard is as silent as...well...the graves that clutter its grounds.
I look over to the man in black robes, and all I see is the top half of his face, from the bridge of his nose up. He is very still, eyes flat and emotionless, until he finally speaks. “You are obviously insane. That would seem to work in my favor, as if you were to get to the village south of here, they would never believe you if you told them what you’ve seen.”
Using the shovel as a makeshift cane, he climbs free from the open grave and knocks his hands on the thighs of his black robes to clear off the dirt. He brushes his palms against each other one last time and puts them behind his back before contining. “Unfortunately, you’ve seen me. Regardless of your intentions, sanity, or any other condition, you’ve seen me and will be able to lead them back here.”
“Whoa, whoa,” I say, raising my hands in front of me, “let’s not get all hasty, bud.” I back away from him slowly, edging my way back to the massive rock behind me. “I don’t even CARE what you’re doing out here. Do you really think I’m going to go back there? Didn’t you hear me say I killed their mayor or some shit? They would kill me on sight if I went back there!”
“It’s not my choice. I have been instructed.” For the first time I hear a crack in his voice. “You would not understand.”
Panic bubbles to the surface, and I scramble to buy time. “Wait, wait...you mean the voices from the...um...other side?” I all too well remember that rotten-sweet cacophony of voices whispering seductive hints of power and conquest. The sudden urge to vomit fills me, and I have to swallow past a lump to get the next words out. “I-I’ve heard them, too! They talk about power and using those lesser than you to get what you want, right?”
He is frozen, eyes locked on mine. “How...how have you heard them?” His eyes narrow for a second. “You are no mage. You couldn’t possib…” His eyes widen suddenly and his face begins to redden. “You claimed to have died, and yet here you stand.” He begins to pace, and when he turns away from me, I can see he has been holding a drawn dagger behind his back. He is absently flicking the cruel, wavy blade back and forth along the outside of his leg as he walks, and I can see he has actually drawn blood.
Knowing that in most games necromancy often has a connection to blood magic of some kind, I guess he is either drawing blood in preparation for a nasty spell, or he is so far gone he has no idea he is filleting his leg with every step. They aren’t deep cuts, but I can already see a dark stain begin to seep through his black robe where the knife makes repeated sweeps. When his back is turned to me, his mumbling goes beyond my hearing, but when he turns back to me, I can see he has now fully worked himself up into a frenzy of anger. “You’ve already taken out my guards on the road, so obviously you haven’t been sent to help me. You’re here to test me. You have been sent by the Underlords to test my growth, haven’t you?” Terrifyingly, I can see a tiny pinprick of violet light blossom in his eyes and faint wisps of purple...steam? Smoke? “Well, when you stand before them again, let them know I am more than up to the task!” The wisps from his eyes grow in strength, and after his last words, they blaze brightly as his hands begin to curl into cruel shapes.
Whatever the hell that smoke is, he’s about to go all deathmage on me if I don’t move.
As one, the four skeletons suddenly charge.
My attention is diverted by them, but from the corner of my eye I see the necromancer performing a convoluted series of gestures, hands trailing more of the wispy violet smoke. His voice, a guttural and nausea-inducing set of sounds that assault my ears, rises to a fever pitch. He throws an arm in my direction and a bolt of purple force explodes from his hand, so dark it is almost black.
Fortunately I am already on my way to diving around the rock.
The bolt strikes a tree beside me as I jump, and instead of the expected explosion of fire or sparks or any other predictable result, the tree simply...dissolves. There is a sudden, momentary vacuum of sound, like someone cut off all the noises in the universe, then the tree turns into ashes. The entire trunk, branches, and every single leaf freezes for a nanosecond, then collapses away into a scattering of black snowflakes.
Holy shit, I say as I awkwardly crash on the ground from my frantic dive, I’m glad I didn’t get hit by that! Something grabs my attention on my minimap in the corner of my vision and I realize there are four red dots moving my way. One more hangs back from the rest, and I assume it’s the caster. I hear him starting another incantation, but I block it from my mind as the four skeletons approaching me split, two on each side of the giant rock.
Well *this* just got a lot easier, I realize. I can see which direction they’re coming from, even though my view is blocked. My eyes take in the massive stone formation, ten or fifteen long, and I do some guesstimations on how fast the skeletons move. If I can take the first two down on one side quick enough, I can take my time with the other two before they flank me.
Before I realize what is happening, I find myself...smiling, grinning surely what must be a death’s head leer.
Am I actually *excited* about this fight? I wonder. I laugh out loud, embracing the absurdity of going into battle yet again against probably overwhelming odds. There’s a difference this time, though. My confidence is based on actual (albeit brief) experience in battle, not on arrogance and expectations of, “I’m the hero in this story! I can’t die!”
I sweep all thoughts from my mind as I watch the two dots closing around the near side of my rocks. Having learned my lesson, I try a subtly different tactic when the first bony bastard comes around into view.
I turn my sword in my grip. The slightly oval shape, designed to fit a wielder’s hand, feels strange turned this way, but my grip is more than up to the task. I throw my shield up in a desperate attempt to block the first attack, and I am rewarded with the rusty blade deflecting off with an arm-jarring thunk. Remembering the effect a blunt strike had on the previous skeleton, I come back across with my sword, this time swinging the flat of the blade against undead's pelvis. Instead of folding it in half, the skeleton collapses into pieces as the magic holding it together is blasted apart by the blunt-force trauma. Well, that worked! I crow to myself in triumph.
I hear more bony clacking behind me, reminding me that this is far from over. The second skeleton around the corner, this one holding a studded mace, steps into view. My body is still twisted to the left after my sword-bash, so I follow through with a left-handed shield punch, smashing the skeleton in the sternum before it can complete its clumsy swing. Once more, my blunted attack crushes the brittle bones, and the skeleton’s mace and shield fall to the ground, thudding heavily amid the clatter of lifeless debris.
“Hell yeah!” I scream in triumph, watching the second enemy in as many attacks fall to my strength.
I freeze for a moment as I see its dropped mace lying there, and without any conscious effort at all, a small notification window pops up in the corner of my view.
WORN STUDDED IRON MACE
The first weapon ever used was most likely a stick of some kind, and this mace is a direct descendant! Simple and devastating, the mace crushes armor and shatters bones!
Quality: Worn (-1 damage)
Material: Iron
Damage: 1-6 (Critical x2, x2 damage to undead)
I duck down to grab the mace from the ground, spinning to face the new threat behind me. Luck is with me as my ducking motion allowed the nearest skeleton’s attack to cut only empty air instead of my neck, clanging loudly off the rocks beside me. The heavy weapon feels oddly comfortable in my grip, and I blindly sweep it up in a vicious uppercut as I stand to ward off the two undead behind me. The upward swing, its momentum doubled with my standing motion, connects explosively with the skeleton’s ribcage. I barely feel the impact as the studded iron ball crashes through the brittle bones, scattering them in a ten-foot radius around me.
Unfortunately, the uncaring skeleton behind it charges through the rain of bones, driving its rusted sword right into my ribcage under my extended arm. The scale armor at least slows the weapon down to where it only pierces an inch or so into my side. Well, it’s either the scale or because the skeleton has thrust the weapon into me with the blade perpendicular to the forest floor. The tip can only go in so far before my ribcage catches the widening blade. From the corner of my eye, I see the red health globe in the lower left slosh violently, a chunk of my health vanishing. Pain rips through me as I feel the sword push my ribs apart, reaching for my lung but stopping just short.
As much as the game has made me endure, as much agony as I’ve gone through in my short time here in Pentamria, and as much weapon training has been downloaded into my head, there’s nothing that can prepare me for getting stabbed in the fucking ribcage. I act instinctively and my body recoils, curling in on itself, my elbow comes down on the upper edge of the blade. Hard.
The thick metal patch covering my elbow protects me from getting my arm severed at the joint, but it pushes the blade down and across the ribs below the initial wound. I can hear metal screech against metal as the sword, aided by my own strength, cuts through the shoddy scale armor, opening a nasty wound from mid-ribcage all the way to my hip.
My health globe takes another massive hit, this time sloshing down to below half, and the outer edge of my vision begins flashing red. Faint lines of what look like veins appear as well, reaching into the center of my sight. The veins pulse slightly and a small icon appears along the right side where my notifications are. It is in the shape of a drop of blood that animates a repeated dripping motion. Great, I think, that’s probably a “bleeding” status of some kind. I sneak a glance down at my health globe and I see it bubbling gently as blood slowly trickles out of it. I am losing health every second now.
I stagger back from the skeleton as it continues, my arm pressed down against the gash. It’s violet eyes glare implacably at me as it advances, relentless as a machine, and draws back for another blow.
I take the swing on my shield, buying time to figure out what the hell to do next. I know if I keep backing straight up I’ll step out from behind the rock into the range of that terrifying dark blast spell and be disintegrated. I take a step to my left instead, swinging feebly at the skeleton with my mace. Pain tears across my side as I move, though, and the attack is little more than a nudge. Thankfully this particular undead only has a sword, so when its weapon moves left to intercept my weak attack, it leaves its entire right side open for a shield bash. The edge of my shield impacts behind its right shoulder blade, and sheers the arm off at the socket.
Undeterred, the skeleton swings the sword at me with its left hand, the right arm dangling macabrely from the hilt.
Between my awkward, desperate twist and the heavy iron haft of the mace, I absorb the sword blow. But not without the cost in pain. Once again, I do the only thing that seems to be working and bash my shield against the skeleton’s face. The head caves in, and the rest of the body mercifully collapses to the ground, lifeless once more.
My entire body is screaming at me now, pain lancing up and down my right side. Frantically, my eyes look up to my minimap and I’m thankful to see the remaining dot hasn’t moved yet. At least that bastard isn’t coming after me, because I don’t think I could crush a kitten right now with this wound.
I gingerly lift my right arm a bit to look at the cut, and immediately wish I hadn’t. Blood is gushing from the gaping wound. I can see my ribs and even some globular, yellow fatty tissue just below the ribcage. My vision swims, and I feel suddenly and violently nauseous. Lamely I think to myself, Huh, I guess even The Statham Rock has love handles...
A small part of my mind is screaming at me that I am going into shock but that part is really, really small and man am I really thirsty and I’d even take a beer right now and why is the world tilting a bit?
My vision continues to pulse red like I’m at some kind of club, beating in time to a little tiny, irregular pressure in my ears.
I glance over to the right, where I see the cute little red droplet, and now there’s even a little man with circles over his head, moving his hips in time to the beat in my head. I watch it for a few seconds, smiling weakly at its motions. Odd, I think as a small square with numbers pops up below the dancing drop. Why are those numbers counting backwards? Is that how much longer til the song is over?
I’m a little sad as the number hits zero, because what if I don’t like the next song?
My vision clears a bit, and the pulsing red lights slows. My thoughts become a bit clearer as well, and after a few seconds I see my red health globe begin to flicker a bit, rippling as more and more blood fills it back up every second. It’s not a lot, but it’s there. I look down at my side, and I’m a bit shocked at what I see.
What the…
The wound has stopped bleeding so profusely, and what’s more, it’s actually starting to close up a bit.
Holy shit.
As each second passes, my thoughts become clearer, and I remember seeing a hp/minute regen stat somewhere. Was it based on my Constitution stat, or my Stamina, maybe?
I can hear another wave of necromantic casting from within the cemetery, so after a furtive glance up at the minimap to confirm the caster isn’t coming for me yet, I flick open my character sheet. I look intently at my Constitution score for a second, and sure enough a smaller sub-window appears.
Constitution
+.5% to AC
+.5% to resists
+1 hp/min
“So I get one health per Con point, per minute? That means I regenerate +9 hit points per minute?” I wonder out loud, breath coming in labored heaves. I swallow past the dryness in my throat as I nod frantically. “Ok,” I whisper hoarsely, “I can deal with that.”
Movement in the minimap draws my panicked attention, and a cold dread fills my bones.
There’s not just one dot anymore.
There’s five.