[Quest Received: The Dead God’s Husk. Quest Giver: Aspenoc. Description: Fogdahn, 6th Heir of the Mothric Kingdom is rumored to have found the remains of Vacel Juniperscar, the slain God buried within Mothric territory. Find and enter the husk of the fallen God to find the missing heir. Reward: Experience, Currency, Item. Fail Condition: Do not discover any information regarding Fogdahn]
It stared at me, and I stared at it. I didn’t let it be tucked away with other notifications. Instead I simply let it remain so that I could have a scowling contest with it. My mind would not let go of the thought of returning there; returning to the southern wall, and returning to the mists. I wanted to fight it and say no, I wanted to shake the gangly elder like a Shake Weight. Couldn’t they send someone else? Anyone else? Fogwen was stronger, and the two siblings who had just shown up were literal Lords, easily one if not two tiers higher than everyone else. And that is just Fogwarth’s siblings! Who knows who else in their armed forces were also powerful.
But, there was Foggy. Determined, anxious, and prepared. I gave up my false hope of him denying the request. This was his sibling, and he had just lost two others. Not to mention that he had already done so much for me, and continues to. I couldn’t turn my back on him now. No, I’d swallow my fear, like the $4 Irish Car Bomb St.Patty’s Day special down at the bar, and I would be by his side.
“We…” Foggy turned to me and Ak. His eyes held questions and worry. But, he didn’t need to ask. I nodded, and Ak followed with the same. A smile pushed at his pudgy cheeks, lighting up the room just as only Foggy could do, and he regained his sense of triumph. “We accept, dear Oracle. We will venture onward, find the husk, and bring back Fogdahn. This is the word of the Flightless Guard of Mothric, and his two closest allies.”
“Here here!” I said. My words were only met with the echo of the stone spire walls as no one joined me.
“Excellent,” Aspenoc said, shifting and relaxing a bit. “Now that we are through with the difficult bits, I have some business to discuss with our blueberry friend. So, Barry, I believe I owe you answers on your strange class. Yes?”
“Wait, what? You have something?” I practically jumped out of my berry peel. “Finally!”
Aspenoc laughed, and Fogwarth and Ak-Lok moved to wait outside of the spire. Aspenoc then motioned for Aeronik to do the same, and the stubborn bee openly refused the first time. After a firmer, harder gaze, he rose to his feet and did the same, with both guards outside staying close behind.
“Angiomancer…” Aspenoc said, tasting the word like a rich wine. “It baffled me for some time.” He moved to a bookshelf below the stairs and retrieved a journal, beaten with the passing of time with yellowing pages. He flipped through it, browsing through his own cataloged notes to find exactly the passage he needed. “Relinquishing my spire to farmers was less than fortunate, but, as predicted, their investigation and discussions had borne fruit!”
I sighed at the pun, but still managed to stay enthusiastic.
“I have no easy way to put this, so I shall just bring it to you as such: Angiomancer’s are the weakest of all the Mancers who practice with Nature. Your scope is limited, and your abilities are niche, to be polite.”
“Are you serious? Hold on a minute here,” I answered, taking his words like a punch to the gut. “Dude, there is no way. The weakest? Have you not seen my cannon? Have you not witnessed my rose-hip bush? And look at Scrappy!”
Scrappy stood up straight on Aspenoc’s shoulder, giving a flower scowl and raising a tiny fist in the air while slamming the other on what would be his chest.
I shook my head. “Alright, scratch that last one. But I’m useful! I helped my team multiple times!”
Aspenoc raised his hands to slow me down, clearly sensing my tiger rage bubbling up. “Easy, Barry. Do not mistaken strength as being one in the same with usefulness. Strength may swing the hammer, but it is the carpenter that builds the home. It is the work worker who fashions the planks, and the blacksmith who crafts the nails. Have you forgotten my analogy about speed and races so soon, Barry?”
I calmed down a bit at that. He was right. Of course he was right. I was being childish and only seeing strength and power as being worthwhile goals. It was the downfall the king had spoken of, and I was playing right into it.
“Now, back to our findings!” He said, returning to his book. “I should have said the weakest for now. That is the key, you see. It is not what you are now, it is what you may become. And, with the assistance of the farmers, I believe there are two options for your class to change, depending on your tier 2 evolution path that is. Now, for your first one. If you should find an evolutionary path that incorporates the use of Light Mana, than this could perhaps be the outcome…”
[Class Change: Photosynthemancer. Type: Nature, Light. Description: a hybrid class wielding both Nature and Light based abilities. The Photosynthemancer may be developed from a previous class which wields either of the Mana types. Requirements: Tier 2 or above. Mancer base class]
[Class Change: Agrimancer. Type: Nature. Description: an enhanced class offering greater control over the elements of Nature. The Agrimancer may be developed from a previous class which wields Nature Mana. Requirements: Tier 3 or above. Mancer base class]
I looked over both carefully. The hybrid class seemed more powerful right off the bat. I’ve seen what detestation Light attacks can cause, and the [Sunflower Beam Cannon] was still my strongest ability, also having some Light power to it. The other one just seemed like a stronger version of what I had. I pictured conjuring entire forests worth of thorny rose-hips, or an enormous sunflower that could blast through a mountain. Who even knows what Scrappy would be like with a class like that summoning him.
I nodded, feeling good about these options.
“Okay, alright,” I said. “I like these. So, you’re saying I can change my class to these if I pick the right evolutionary path?”
Aspenoc shrugged. “Well, it would happen whether you wanted it to or not. A class must fit an evolution, and an evolution must fit a class. Take Prince Fogwarth’s changes, will you. His evolution offered more raw strength and greater size, allowing him the ability to wield weapons previously too heavy for him, such as his Pearlescent Lord shield and sword. A simple Bladesman, while still a useful class, would not suffice such an evolution. And so, the Warforged Weaponeer was born!”
“Sounds like a sweet deal then,” I answered. “A powerful new race equals a powerful new class. Any thoughts on what the next path might be? Can we test for it again?”
Aspenoc sighed and shook his head. “We may try, but I fear there is some knowledge that is out of our grasp. It is most likely the case that you have many more tier one paths, and we lacked the means to discover them. Additionally, if we did find a tier 2 path for our current Calypso Brawler race then it would have been known to you already through our divination. This time you may… you may be on your own, Barry.”
“Well… shit,” I answered.
What the Hell was I going to do? I was back on the clock for the decay timer, and this time I was on a road without a map. Or a GPS would probably be better. Regardless, I was stuck hoping for the best for now.
“Hope is not yet lost on us,” Aspenoc said, putting back his book and claiming another from the old shelf. “Your path is one of combat, and we can make the assumption that it will continue to grow as such. If you continue to fight with the fervor I witnessed on the battlefield today then surely you will find your path. But… there is another…”
Aspenoc handed the book to me, motioning for me to accept it. I took it and looked at the page it was opened to. It was a journal, clearly written decades ago and documenting some kind of hunt or search. When I focused on it I realized it was written by the king.
“A new sun rises, and we are no closer in our search for Burquinn, the Briar Lord. He has escaped our charge at every turn, met us in combat just to retreat before the final moments. The Briar Lord is a crafty one. Farther more so than his peers had been. Where they had chosen to meet me in combat head on, testing their furocity against my own, Burquinn chooses to evade and take out my forces one by one.”
“My Companion fears all is lost. He tells me we must turn back. Yet, how can I do so? I have defeated six of the great seven Lords. I have ensured my kingdom, and my children, will prosper long after I am no longer in this world. Yet, is the Oracle right? Have I met the one foe whose trickery can best my own?”
“I know what I must do, yet it pains me to do so. Have I become the monster they say I am? If so, then so be it. The Briar Lord will fall by my hand, whether it is directly or by the fall of his own benefactor. I will see it done.”
“Vacel, if you have read this then I have failed in my pursuit. And, know I find joy in this, dear friend. I have watched your rise with nothing short of envy and admiration. I sought a reckless path, one to defeat your pupil, and one to nourish my new lands with your own power. Vacel, my brother, know that I am sorry for what I have done, and what I have attempted to do.”
“Signed, King Fogwick, first of the Mothric Kingdom”
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I tried to process what I had just read. I knew the stories, I knew the accusations, but this… this was proof. This was knowledge that I didn’t want. I quickly shoved the book back, not wanting to be any deeper involved in whatever madness the former king had brought to this place. But, as a notification sprung in my vision, I knew it was too late.
[Quest Recieved: The Path of the Briar Lord. Quest Giver: Error. Description: Only one remains. He who is the Lord of the Briar. He who is of the thorns. The honorable last of a fallen line. May he see through the endless brambles, and accept the sun again. Success conditions: Discover the fate of the Briar Lord. Reward: Experience]
I could have found a quiet place anywhere. There was little left in Mothric now, making the echoing silence almost unbearable in most places. Here, in this place, at least the silence was normal. It was where quiet was a welcomed thing. Nice and peaceful, like a dormant grave.
Okay. You got me. It’s the graveyard.
To be fair it really was a peaceful place. The grass was overgrown, but not in the way it was in the underbrush. This was very normal, untamed grasslands that sprawled over rising and falling hills. Etched stone grave markers scattered its surface in uneven patterns like old teeth, and the wisps of cool wind shook at the dead and dry flowers that marked some of the stones. The rising moon that welcomed the evening really gave the place a somber glow that was just welcoming.
It also had a perfect hill to view it all from, even if it didn’t curl out and welcome a singing skeleton and his pet ghost dog; though in this place a huge burlap sack full of sentient bugs that sang in a jazz baritone wouldn’t be that out of place.
Fogwarth was pulled away by his newcomer siblings during his dinner, and Ak-Lok was determined to find H’Acur to get Daiki’s old armor outfitted properly for itself. Even Scrappy was preoccupied with protecting Aspenoc, which I probably should have called off at some point. That left me alone, and I wasn’t about to complain about it. I needed some space to think, or dwell would be better to say I guess, and I needed to review my notifications. I hoped there was a way to filter through the mountain of death notifications, but sadly there wasn't. With my interface open I began to pour through the notifications, only focusing on the primary ones.
There were a total of 36 notifications regarding the Icaraz Soldiers or Scouts, then an additional few for the larger scorpion guys and the mages. I should have been happy since it was a literally pile of experience given for free just because Fogwen was still considered in our Adventurer Party at the time, but I wasn’t. That was a lot of death for one morning.
I didn’t see anything for Lucen, but I also didn’t know how this worked. How did the system decide who would get a name and who wouldn’t when their death notification popped up? Maybe I could find out later. As far as other unique adversaries went…
[Your party has slain Foghurdt, 4th Heir of the Mothric Kingdom. Gladiator Moth - Heavy Berserker - Level 26. You are awarded 802 experience points]
[Your party has slain an Elite Wasp Seer - High Oracle - Level 33. You are awarded 416 experience points]
Foghurdt’s name still didn’t feel right as it popped up. I didn’t know the guy, and he was a real prick, but I helped kill my friends own brother. I couldn’t just shrug it off and applaud the experience gain. Seeing his level hurt more, knowing how close he was to his second tier evolution. The second stood out because it wasn’t one of the mages, the scorpions, or a regular Icaraz bee. High Oracle… I only knew of one Oracle and he was still alive… I mean, I think he is. I shook my head and decided to move by that for now.
The next series of notifications were a little more exciting.
[You have gained a level. You are now Level 7. You are 0 experience points from Level 8]
[You have gained a level. You are now Level 8. You are 0 experience points from Level 9]
[You have 1 unspent ability point. Please choose an ability from the Angiomancer skill tree. Ability points that are not applied within 24 hours are randomly assigned to an available choice]
[You have gained a level. You are now Level 9. You are 0 experience points from Level 10]
[You have gained a level. You are now Level 10. You are 2894 experience points from Level 11]
[You have 2 unspent ability points. Please choose an ability from the Angiomancer skill tree. Ability points that are not applied within 24 hours are randomly assigned to an available choice]
Orgasmic. It was like the Fourth of July fireworks. It was like the ball dropping on New Year's Eve. It was like the buy-one get-one deal on PBRs down at the bar. Two ability points? Four levels? It was almost enough to wash away the guilt for all of the deaths!
Almost.
Yet, even all of that was simply cake. Moist, delicious, but missing the icing. The icing was my last notification. And that shit was buttercream.
[Expertise Tab has been unlocked. You may now invest points to increase your expertise percentages. You have 10 unused expertise points]
And Bingo was his Name-o.
Even better, the expertise point things didn’t have the stupid warning about being randomly assigned. The king made it sound like this was a big deal, and said it would be difficult to increase later on. Seeing the pool of points it was easy to understand they were one per level, and while gaining four levels in one fight was fine now it was probably much less frequent once I hit a certain point.
Without drawing it out any longer, I was ready to load up my expertise things and gain my two new moves.
“Ah, perfect. I was in the mood for a light night snack.”
I audibly sighed, letting my interface close as Fogwen walked up and sat down on the hilltop right beside me. I shouldn’t be so let down or even angry, she was a vital ally for sure, but I wasn’t in the mood for our banter. I just wanted to gain my abilities already.
She could clearly see the trouble on my face, and I noticed her mocking grin fall just to be replaced with concern. Her tone and demeanor changed as she spoke again.
“Blueberry…” she said, cocking her head and looking into my berry eyes. “What is going on? What is the matter now? You certainly whine a lot for one that is not a grape.”
Alright. She got me. I sprung a quick smile and shook my head. Well, my body.
“Nah, it’s nothing,” I answered, letting go of a deep sigh. “It’s just a lot to handle, that’s all. I’ve seen more death here in the last few days than I have in my entire life back in the real… back in my world. Getting nearly fifty notifications reminding me of it wasn’t exactly a good time either.”
Fogwen nodded. “Yes, though I suppose that is a good thing, Barry. It is when you grow numb to death, or when you see it as merely a bridge to be crossed, that you are too far gone. Feeling guilt, or sadness, or anger, at the thought or sight of it is what you are meant to feel. Do not forget that.”
“Yeah… I guess you make a good point, Princess,” I answered. “Just worried that tomorrow will bring even more of it. As I get stronger I will bring more of it too. In the morning we… we head back to the southern border. This time even further since we have to find that God’s corpse or whatever. Who knows what will happen?”
She adjusted herself uncomfortable, staring up in the moonlight as she did so. As it poured over her I could tell something was different about her, though nothing substantial. Her face was just a tad more angular, cheekbones more pronounced, hair a bit fuller. Fogwen had already had an athletic build before, but now there were defined muscles under soft skin, which faded to be just a bit more of a dark grey than a black. I thought it was just my eyes playing tricks on me since she wasn’t armored, wearing a light gown that was probably meant to sleep in, but it couldn’t just have been my mind. She was also… taller. Definitely a little taller. That’s when I noticed two things that couldn’t possibly be a trick of the night.
Her fingers were no longer the long, thin and hair coated ones, instead looking much more like slender, if not just a bit long, human hands. Then there were her eyes… not red, not black, and no grid pattern. White corneas, roasted amber irises with flecks of sparkling silver, and a normal pupil. No, she had definitely changed.
“I know… I know you are charged with returning there and bringing back our brother. If I could only exchange our places I would. I promise. It is just that I cannot at this moment for there are larger matters at hand.”
She turned to me as she said so, her normal eyes meeting my own.
“Larger matters? What could be larger than the body of a dead God and a missing horror moth?” I teased.
She smirked. “My mother.”
Oh shit. I forgot about her. I assumed she would be in the castle but even when the dust settled and we had won she was nowhere to be found. Could that mean…
“She is not dead,” Fogwen said, clearly seeing the turmoil on my face. “We believe she fled when my siblings arrived. There may be some connection to the Soul Veil tampering used on my father and the elder Oracle as well, though it is hard to confirm. Regardless, she was last seen headed out East bound, and I am charged with her return to the castle to be interrogated by Fogpeter.”
As she stopped talking her face fell sour and she stared down at the sea of tombstones below us. Ah, shit. Here I was complaining about our own task, meanwhile she was ordered to hunt down her own mother; right after witnessing the death of her father and two siblings. I felt like the smallest berry of the bunch in that moment, realizing that, as an outsider, this would never be as tough as me as it was on these people.
Not knowing what to do, and being hopeless with this stuff in both of my lives, I reached over and placed my hand on hers.
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking out into the darkening horizon. “It should be me offering to trade places. That… That can’t be an easy job either. Maybe after we get back with your creepy monster brother I can help you find the Queen. Who knows, maybe I’ll be strong enough to go off and find her on my own.”
Fogwen opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She seemed momentarily stunned, then slid her hand out and fumbled to find words. “I… Uh. I mean… that is…”
I couldn’t help but laugh, and it seemed to ease some of her tension. “It’s no big deal,” I said, waving her off. “Gotta earn my keep around this place, right? After all, I’m some kind of bad omen berry according to the bees.”
She sighed, nodding her head and rising to her feet. “That you are, Barry. That you are. Thank you for the company,” she said, brushing herself off and offering a hand to help me up. “Now, we have important tasks in the morning and should claim some much deserved rest. Come, I’ll see you off to Fogwarth’s quarters.”
I took her hand, standing up and stretching my stems. She was right, rest would be important. In the morning I would have important decisions to make about new abilities and whatever expertise were, and I should go into it with a clear mind for once. No more being a berry of the past, I need to be a berry of the future. Just as I prepared to set off a new notification sprung into my vision. A surprising one, yet one made me smile, metaphorically at least, from ear to ear.
[You have been offered an Oath of Companionship from Fogwen, 2nd Heir of the Mothric Kingdom]