Kal wiped the dirt-mixed salt from his brow and away from his dry and cracked lips as he finished loading the last salt into the cart bound for the surface. Two burly men held on to either end and slowly heaved the filled cart back up the shaft. Kal used his one and only skill Identify on one of the men.
[Harold | Miner 3 | Human]
Kal envied the men and not because of the fact they were able to avoid the picks. What he longed for was just one line of text. He willed his display to appear, hoping like he did every day that something had changed.
Kalum Lesta
Status:
Class: Null
Level: 0
Race: Human
Health: 140
Stamina: 120
Mana: Null
Attributes:
Strength: 16
Agility: 12
Endurance: 12
Vitality: 14
Intellect: 10
Perception: 11
Will: 14
Wisdom: 12
Titles: Null
Skills:
Identify [Inferior]
Disgusted, he turned back to the tainted white salt wall, picked up his pick, and channeled his unrest into his work. I'm a pits damned freak…. nobody. Maybe he's cursed. Why else would he have failed to awaken a class. Most people gain their class by age eight, and late bloomers are never older than ten. Kal is seventeen. He was a freak, and he knew it, worse than useless. Without a class, he had no future, doomed to be an outcast. The only reason he was even allowed to work was because of his father.
His father is a well-respected man. A level forty-two Miner, which is unheard of, and remembering some of the stories he was told, getting there was a long and challenging path requiring no small amount of luck. With that bit of luck and his Rare Opal Eye skill, he was granted control of the local mining operations in the region. It's a grand position to have for one of the lesser classes. His father has been making Kal mine for the past two years, hoping it would encourage his class to awaken.
After several more hours of seething strikes against the shaft walls, Kal began to make his way back through the tunnels to the surface, guided by the light of his opal lamp. Most of the miners had already left since Kal preferred staying late to work out his frustration. He preferred to be alone. Away from the stares.
As he turned down the passage that would finally lead to the last incline to the surface, the sound of rocks bouncing off the shaft walls startled him, Kal froze and spun to find the stones and debris continuing to bounce and roll into a single point.
Before his eyes, the salt dust and stone of the mine were gathering, swirling into a tiny vortex before subsiding to the dog-sized shape of a humanoid figure with a ghastly face and multiple rows of fangs formed from the stones used in its formation.
[Rock Ghoul 2]
Kal didn't wait for it to move. He hurled his opal lamp at the ghoul. It shattered, sending glass and light throughout the tunnel. The ghoul hissed in surprise but didn't hesitate through the pieces of glass showering it, making minor scratches along its white and gray marbled skin. It pounced, darting through the intervening space with such speed that Kal could barely react in time to protect his throat as it bit down hard on the meat of his left forearm. He fell as the rest of the ghoul's weight struck him forcing out his breath as he hit the ground. A marbled claw slashed towards Kal's gut but struggling to regain his breath, he raised his right hand and caught the thin limb of the ghoul. Kal took a breath but lost it almost as quickly in a pained yell as the wild humanoid began to shake its pale head, savaging Kal's arm.
He began to panic as blood began to leak off his arm and onto his face. Kal knew he was dead if he couldn't kill it himself. Rock Ghouls were known for killing lone miners. Their bleach-dried bones were the only ones left behind of a Rock Ghouls' victims. Often partially crushed into fine dust.
Kal may be classless, but he wasn't about to let himself be killed in a god's damned salt mine. He gathered his will, let go of the ghoul's hand, which immediately darted towards his chest, and began slashing long gashes, which quickly began to bleed. He ignored it, and with his now free hand, he grabbed hold of the creature's neck, squeezing as hard as he could. The ghoul hesitated for a moment, and its slashing slowed. That was his moment. A flash of thrill and anger flickered to life within him as he rolled over on top of the ghoul and began slamming his fist into its wretched face.
Kal's fist suddenly burned as his fist met the ghoul's face. It was hard but not as hard as the rock and salt of the mine. Its skin flexed when struck. He couldn't help but feel like he was harming himself more than the creature. The Rock Ghoul seemed to come back to itself and raised its claws in an attempt to disembowel Kal.
The ghoul's eyes narrowed in anticipation, and it infuriated Kal. To be born wrong, to be so weak. He hated those eyes.
“Damn you!” he roared into the ghoul's face as he grabbed hold of its face and jammed his thumbs into the creature's beady black eyes. The ghoul let an ear-ringing screech and immediately began to try and shake free of Kal's grip. Kal kept pressing harder and harder. Streams of black blood began to trickle down beneath his thumbs. He thought he might actually kill the thing. But before he could find a way, the ghoul got its legs between the two of them and, with surprising strength, kicked him into the wall. Kal's grip slipped in the mix of red and black blood. His head ringing, Kal tried to prepare for another attack, but the ghoul was already scrambling down the tunnel deeper into the mine.
Kal breathed, his lungs still tender from the initial collision. “Ha! You better run, you pits damned freak!” he shouted down the tunnel after the ghoul. He staggered to his feet and yelped as he used his aching arms to push himself off the ground and every scratch, cut, and puncture immediately began burning fiercely as the dirt-mixed salt was pressed into them. Now embarrassed, Kal tore off a section of his salt-covered shirt and wrapped his arm. A quick inspection showed that the wounds weren't deep but were pretty messy. There would be a decent scar left when it finally healed. His stomach and chest were slashed all over as well, but nothing serious. Luckily the ghoul's small frame didn't allow enough leverage to disembowel him. He couldn't kill the ghoul, but he survived. He felt he should be proud, but as he made his way up through the last of the tunnels to the surface, it gnawed at him. He could really use an ale. Maybe a visit to Dalen's would soften his sour mood.
Kal's lips and throat ached as he reached the mine entrance; his tongue felt like sandpaper, and he could feel a build-up of salt coating his teeth. But his wounds were worse. Each burned like they were filled with salt, which they were. Pitts damned salt mine. Yep definitely going to Dal.…
Mid thought as he stepped across the street, he saw the smoke trails of dozens of campfires to the east just past the main city.
“Huh, I wonder what's going on there.”
Shrugging it off, Kal went to his preferred place of revelry and Dalen's new enterprise, the Dancing Lion.
The Dancing Lion was a homely little inn on the south side of Farninghold, but despite its size, it gathered quite a patronage. Kal scrapped what salt he could off his clothes and boots before stepping into the building. Several patrons glanced at him but quickly returned to their tables and friends. Kal was used to that reception. At least it was better than the glares or the insults. Kal moved to the bar took a seat on the glossy oak barstool, and looked at the owner of the Dancing Lion.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
[Dalen Kreet | Tavern Keeper 14 | Human]
“Hey Dalen, How's it been today ?” he said as he rested his cheek on his hand.
Dalen looked up from the shelf of various brews flinching slightly as his eyes landed on Kal's wounds.
“Shit Kal, You look terrible. Did you get jumped by those Redblade thugs again?” he begins rummaging through a cabinet beneath the bar. "Here's one, On the house.” he hands Kal a small bottle with a mostly worn-off label.
Dalen’s Special Brew [Inferior]
Brewed by a youthful tavern keeper, this special brew will ease your pains and disinfect any serious wounds….Probably
Kal smiled nervously.
“Oh, wash it down with this,” Dalen grumbled, placing down a mug of ale.
Kal snatched it up immediately, downing half of it before braving Dalen's “special” brew. He was glad he did because the moment liquid hit his tongue, it was like he just opened his mouth directly under a privy, just in time to catch all that fell. He gagged and quickly chugged the rest of the ale. “Thanks, I guess.“ he choked. He meant it. The burning pain of his injuries was already fading. Kal had been forced to drink the brew on a few occasions when he was a boy. Usually after a beating from some of the ascended children. More recently the Redblades had been enjoying roughing him up.
“Not the Red Blades, not this time, at least. It was a Rock Ghoul. It materialized behind me while I was on my way out of the mines,” he said
“I can't believe you got away. Those things are feral,” replied Dalen.
“I was lucky. I hurt it enough to run it off. But if it had come at me again, I'd be dead.” he muttered.
Dalen shook his head and picked up a dirt glass. “Well, maybe you should come work for me instead. It would be safer.”
“No, Dalen, I'm fine. If I worked for you, your business would dry up in days. It's bad enough that we speak in the open, let alone if they thought I had anything to do with their drinks. Leave it.” cut in Kal with surprising heat. “Now, please, let's talk about something else. Did you hear about the camps outside the city? I could see the smoke from their fires from the mines.”
Dalen's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Fine. Yeah, I've heard It's one of the imperial pocket armies the general likes to pull out occasionally. I heard from one of the guards that apparently they are camping outside the city tonight to prepare for a raid on some cult north of here in the Ilkari mountains.” he began polishing a glass. “Though who knows, it seems like a lot of soldiers for a cult raid. But who cares? I just hope they order some liquor for the road. “
“Of course you do.” Kal chuckled.
After some small talk and a few more mugs, as Kal is about to leave, one of the nearby tables bursts into laughter as a round bald man in a decent shirt though it was covered in dark red wine stains. “Ha…. I can't believe Alisia White-Mane got Serf.” he bursts into another round of laughter. “How did they cover that up for so long.”
Kal's stomach twisted with pity for the women getting a lesser class like Serf was a one-way ticket to peasantry for anyone, but this was even worse for anyone in the nobility. The nobles in the kingdom were generally at least Uncommon classes, and most marriages were used to raise or solidify the average rank of the family. The children born into these families lean toward the class of their parents, but strict training before their ascension can push them in another direction. This divergence isn't usually far, but a family of Blade Masters may generate an Arcane Archer or a Monk over generations. A Serf was a scandal amongst the noble families. The family's lineage will now be heavily scrutinized, and Alisia will likely be disowned unless her parents have some decency and hide her away instead. Kal had his doubts. He looked back to Dalen and caught the man's worried expression quickly hidden as he noticed Kal looking.
Dalen cleared his throat and replaced the look with an easy smile. “Despite your wounds, you look stronger. What's your strength now ?”
Kal's spirit dragged itself out of the gutter, and he willed his display into being, also including Dalen allowing him to see all of his statistics.
Kalum Lesta
Status:
Class: Null
Level: 0
Race: Human
Health: 140
Stamina: 130
Mana: Null
Attributes:
Strength: 17
Agility: 12
Endurance: 13
Vitality: 14
Intellect: 10
Perception: 11
Will: 14
Wisdom: 12
Titles: Null
Skills:
Identify [Inferior]
Kal smiled; if there was one thing he could be proud of, it was his attributes. Once a person ascends into their class, the only way to increase their base attributes is through increasing their level or through the use of magic items. But because Kal was yet to ascend, his attributes were determined by his physical and mental state. Because of this, noble children usually undergo intense training and cognitive studies to maximize the possible power of each child before they ascend. With where his attributes are at now, he is significantly higher across the board than most newly ascended cultivators.
Dalen's eyes widened slightly, and then so did Kal's. His strength and endurance had increased again after his day in the mines and the struggle with the rock ghoul.
“Damn, Kal, you have gotten stronger!” Dalen scoffed. “Your strength and endurance are as high as mine.”
“Yeah, well, it won't do me any good without a class. Even with my half-decent stats without skills, there isn't a trade I could pull my weight in, let alone make a living.”
Dalen paused his mouth in a tight line. “Look, I've been thinking about why you haven't ascended yet. What? Don't look at me like that. I think it might still be possible for you to ascend.”
“How then? oh, wise tavern keeper.” Kal sighed.
“Shut it, smart arse,” he grumbled as he finished cleaning a glass and leaned over the bar. "I've heard recently from a friend of mine in the capital. She's a mage, part of the university there. Anyway, she remembered a conversation I had with her a few years back when I first met you. She wanted to know if you had ascended yet. Apparently, her team is studying delayed ascendancy.
“I don't plan on being some mage's lab rat Dalen. And besides, how many freaks like me even are there? I haven't heard of any other people ascending later than ten. Forget about finding any like me. Why bother studying a one-off?” Kal seethed, quickly regaining his annoyance. But he reined it in. He knew Dalen was just trying to help. But it always irked him whenever his weakness came to light, which was all too often.
“Sorry, Dalen. But do you think this mage could actually help?”
He shrugged. “I don't know Kal, but she knows her magic, and it couldn't hurt. Besides, she wants to meet you, and I couldn't stop her if I tried.”
Kal sighed, “Fine, when will she get here ?”
“Oh, she's already here. Hey Melisia.” a grin suddenly appeared on Dalen's face, and he waved at somebody at the tavern's entrance.
Kal turned to look, and his heart froze.
?|??|?
She had long pale blonde hair. Cut straight, her hair fell low on her back, held back by a small white clip. Her ears subtly pointed. She wore the light blue battle robes of the Empire that left her arms uncovered for ease of movement but also with a high collar that was tight against her throat, and worn over the top was the silver and sapphire amulet marking her as a mage of one of the great universities of Larnas. But her most striking feature was her lavender-colored eyes, which are currently staring straight at him.
“Why is she looking at me like that, Dalen?” Kal said under his breath to his friend.
“I did say she wanted to meet you.” he chuckled without turning away from the mage. “Oh and in fair warning. She is quite, eh, peculiar. But she’s nice. If she is digging for information, she will get it, but she won't use it against you.”
The mage, flanked by two level 20 fighters, walked straight through the room directly to where Kal sat nervously.
She briefly greeted Dalen and turned her gaze back to Kal. “So you are the boy who has failed to ascend. I am Melisia Tanaruhn, Mage of the Seventh Tower. Who are you ?” she said, smiling. Her voice was almost serene but constantly underlined by a sense of joy.
“Uh, I’m Kal.” he fidgeted in his seat, unsure if he should stand up or stay where he was.
“Well, I am glad to have met you, Kal. I’m sorry Dalen but I would like to speak with the boy for a time before we catch up.”
“Of course, it can wait.” he grinned at the nervous Kal before he moved to the other side of the bar to serve another drink.
Melisia smiled politely though her shadows were frowning as they looked him over.
“Perhaps you could show me your hometown while we speak, Kal.”
“Sorry, Mel…my lady? I was injured today. Is there any chance we could speak tomorrow when I’ve had a chance to recover?” Kal said, tripping over his words. He was stalling, and he knew it. But speaking with her was dangerous even if the danger wasn’t from her. He could already feel the glares from many of the patrons seated nearby.
He had been beaten for speaking to one of the guards in town. He would probably be killed if he was seen talking to a mage, especially one from the capital.
Melisia simply smiled politely. “Melisia, please. I will heal your wounds if it will buy a few simple questions.”
Well, she isn’t going to drop it. Maybe he could hope that they would be too afraid to cross her if he went along with it. He resigned himself to a beating at some point. But at least those don’t normally scar.
He nodded, and without a word, Melisia waved her hand in his direction. A flash of blue and gold light washed over him.
Melisia Tanaruhn has cast Lesser Healing
Lesser Healing [Common]
You may convert your own mana reserves into vital essence and direct it to heal the wounds of others by a moderate amount.
Do you accept?
Kal mentally allowed the spell to take effect. His nervousness and what remained of his pain lessened as he watched the slashes on his stomach and the messy wound on his arm begin to close before his eyes. As an obviously high-level Mage Melisia could have forced the spell to affect him. But she gave him a choice and the description of the spell.
“Thank you Melisia. Ok, I know a few places worth seeing.”