“A..are you sure you need me to accompany you, sir?” The bard, Gnomish Gambino asked.

“Yes,” the bounty hunter answered for the second time. He had put his hood back on to obscure his features. They were walking along the dusty streets of the coastal city of Glintin, a bloody sack tied to bounty hunter’s waist. The doomed made sure the gnome was always in front of him so as to ensure he didn’t run away. He needed the bard to corroborate his story. Eventually, they made it to the Imperial Embassy, the large marble and gold structure easily detectable due to the major contrast it had with all the other brown dirt and stone structures of the rest of the city.

When they got to the entrance, the gnome hesitated. He looked back to the cloaked man behind him. When the bounty hunter didn’t move forward. He just removed his hood and looked at him expectantly. the gnome sighed defeatedly and entered the embassy. Despite the late hour, the inside of the structure was bright as if mid-day. The numerous enchanted ensconced orbs gave off such light that a simple torch or candle could ever rival.

There was a bored looking man sitting at a desk in the middle of the marble floor. A three-foot tall granite barrier was set up across the entire length of the floor behind the desk with a gate on each side of the desk. An imperial soldier stood guard on each side of the desk in front of each gate besides the desk. Both were in matching white and gold scale mail. Both guards shifted a hand on their sheathed kopeshes when they saw the bard and bounty hunter walk in.

He was busy scanning through numerous documents, going through the veritable plethora of imperial paperwork.

The two approached the desk. The imperial officer did not even look at them at first, but it was clear that he knew they were present based off his exaggerated sigh. After a good fifteen seconds of the man silently ignoring them and organizing his notes, the bounty hunter seemed to have enough. “I’ve come to collect a bounty.” He said.

The officer just gave another sigh, this one even more loud than before. He finished writing one of his notes then set his quill down to actually look up at the pair who’d approached him. The imperial’s face went from annoyed to surprised to annoyed again in the span of a couple of seconds as he registered the face of the bounty hunter. “Oh great, another one of you Fettore again.” He said with obvious disdain toward the doomed.

For his part, the bounty hunter’s face remained relatively neutral, the only sign of any frustration on his end being a slight squint in his eye at the officer’s verbal jab. “I’ve come to collect on a bounty.” He repeated, this time with gritted teeth.

“A..Fettore?” The gnome asked quietly.

The question wasn’t intended for anyone to answer, but the officer had heard his words. “Oh, you don’t know? This man and the rest of his people are among the most egotistical people within the entire world. They are the greycloaks or “Fettore” as they like to call themselves; a group of audacious elite warriors think themselves so strong that they do not have to submit to the Nilelands Empire, despite the fact that they reside within Imperial Territory.”

“Skjoldheim resides within the ocean, free from any imperial rule. We reside within no one’s territory but our own.”

“Your little city-state is within the Meridian Sea, a body of water that all of which belongs to the Empire. Why your people have been allowed to stay independent and just be allies is beyond me.”

The bounty hunter lowered his gaze to look directly at the condescending imperial. “It is because we are strong, and your people have been smart enough not to pick a fight. Now,” he said and then unceremoniously dropped the bloody sack that had been attached to his waist onto the man’s desk. “I’ve come to collect a bounty.”

The imperial scowled. He looked like he wanted to shout at the Fettore, but thought better of it. He looked over to the guard to his left and nodded for the woman to come grab the bloody sack on his desk. The soldier did her best to repress her grimace and silently walked over and picked up the sack.

“Remove the head.” The officer ordered.

The guard did so, revealing the monstrous head of a vampire, the mouth wide open revealing too many teeth for comfort.

The officer made a disgusted noise, the Fettore didn’t acknowledge it. He instead placed a wanted poster on the desk in front of the man. “This is the head of Radu Loveanu. A vampire who supported a coup against his nation’s new monarch. Since the nation of Draculvain is a loyal servant of the empire, your nation agreed to put out a bounty on him. He also is responsible for the deaths of the fifteen women murdered in this city. So, I will take the bounty for that job too.”

It was very obvious that the imperial officer disliked the doomed Fettore, but could not openly refuse him. So, he had to be tricky. “While I cannot deny that this is the Draculvanian fugitive, I know for a fact that the killer of those women you speak of, greycloak, is an animal. So no, you will not be taking that bounty. In fact, I will be charging you half of the original bounty for attempting to deceive a member of the empire. That is a serious offense.” He said with a smug grin.

“I have a witness that says otherwise,” the bounty hunter said and gave a slight push of the bard forward.

The gnome stumbled forward a couple steps in surprise. He looked at the imperial officer who glared down at the bard. Gnomish Gambino held his pan flute nervously. Normally, he would not risk the ire of an imperial officer, but he saw what the Fettore did back in the tavern. He was much more afraid of the bounty hunter than the deskworker before him. “It’s true, sir.” The gnome stated. “That monster admitted to it before the bounty hunter here handled him.” He gestured to the greycloak. “If he hadn’t shown, I’m sure many more people would’ve died.”

The officer’s smile turned into an ugly scowl so severe it rivaled the vampire’s face earlier when he was still alive. “So it appears.” He then reached a desk and took out a form. He pulled his quill from the inkwell and placed it against the parchment. “What is your name, greycloak? ”

To the Fettore’s credit, he kept his face from looking smug. He just raised an eyebrow and nodded knowingly. “So it does, and I am Uther of Clan Krillku.”

After a few more minutes, both the doomed and the gnome left the imperial office, the bounty hunter many coins richer. The Fettore put a hand on the bard’s shoulder. “Thank you for your help.” He said, expressing genuine gratitude to the bard. “Here,” he took a gold coin from his sack and placed it in the gnome’s hand. “For your troubles.”

Gnomish Gambino went wide-eyed. Each coin was one-one-hundredth the value of the next coin above it. It went from copper to silver to gold then to platinum. With what the Fettore had just give him, the bard had just received more than a year’s worth from his tips all at once! He could actually buy the tavern! “Th..Thank you, sir Fettore. If you should ever require my assistance, you are always welcome at the Thirsty Bandicoot. Just please, try not to make a mess if you can avoid it next time.”

The hunter just gave a grunt and nodded at the gnome. He then watched the bard scurry away down the dusty street, turning away at an intersection by a Messenger’s Guild building. The Fettore, Uther, gave an involuntary shiver at seeing the guild building. While the Messenger’s Guild was a legitimate business, Uther was privy to the truth of it. It was a front for a more sinister and secret organization who’s tendrils are spread even further than the Nilelands Empire, The Information Guild. As the name implied, it traded in information or favors versus any hard currency.

The Information Guild was essentially the most well-connected criminal network in the world. Uther had never dealt with them directly but was taught about them by his mentor. While certainly they were powerful with as much knowledge and information they possessed, Uther was taught over and over again to never make a deal with the guild. You could make one as a last resort, but his mentor had said that oftentimes, one’s death is preferable than being indebted to the Information Guild.

After giving the guild building one more glance, Uther turned and made his way to the nearest port. With his job done, it was time to head home. After a quarter of an hour, the doomed man made it to the port of Glintin. Once he asked around, he found a merchant ship heading to the Nilelands Empire. It didn’t take much to convince the sailors and merchants to allow him on board. The Fettore are considered some of the best fighters among the world, and to have one on board was always thought of as a boon.

Uther didn’t have to pay for his passage on the large vessel, just an exchange of services in case they were needed. However, the ship wasn’t originally heading to his home of Skjoldheim, but with a few gold coins, they thought that it wouldn’t be so hard. The island city-state was in between the continent where the Empire was based out of and where they were currently docked. Once the ship had set sail for a couple hours and was moving amongst calmer waters, Uther decided to find one of the cots below and evaluate his stats.

Name: Uther Krillku

Level: N/A

Race: Doomed

Pact Status: Bonded – Gungnir

Profession: Hunter – Specialization: None

Class: Lancer – Specialization: Fettore

Languages: Common, Old Norse, Infernal, Skjold-Sign

Skills:

Sailing Level 10

Shipwright Level 5

Dodge Level 20

Polearms Level 25

Subskills: Parry Level 10, Sweep Level 7, Spears Level 22

Deception Level 11

Light Armor Level 12

Leatherworking Level 5

Unarmed Fighting Level 7

Blunt Weapons Level 2

Herbalism Level 2

Stealth Level 13

Beast Handling Level 3

Abilities & Spells:

Odin’s Eye

Thrust of Gungnir

Mark Prey

Beasts’ Bane (Passive)

Vault Kick

Odin’s Skewer

Gungnir’s Justice

Summon Spear

Advanced Tracking

Darkvision (Passive)

Feats: Survivor, Monstrous Disdain

Pools & Resistances

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Health: 100

Mana: 80

Stamina: 250

Armor: 28

Demoninc Bloodline: +25% resistance to heat and fire damage.

Shadowmire Armor: +10% chance to detect others in Stealth, +10% chance to remain undetected while in Stealth

Cold Resistance: 5%

Stats

Strength: 23

Agility: 21

Intellect: 8

Perception: 27

Discernment: 13

Fortitude: 25

Vitality: 10

Dexterity: 32

He was happy with where he was. For a twenty-five year old person to reach such heights was rather impressive with the world of Eldryndr. Since the cataclysm seven centuries ago and the introduction of the System to everyone, everything had changed drastically. Gods, legendary heroes long past, and even powerful beasts and monsters could now form pacts with people, granting them a portion of their power in exchange for servitude. Even divine artifacts once held by now dead gods could become patrons. There were two types of agreements that one could make with a powerful enough patron, either a pact or a bond.

Pacts were the most powerful types of deals. Essentially, a patron being, whether god or something else, chose you to essentially be their champion. You would get more power than that of a bond, but you were also more intrinsically tied to that being and their will. Thus, a patron being can only ever have one pact-wielder at a time. Another major advantage though was access to levels. The System that appeared on Eldryndr, while neutral, was certainly not fair to all. Unless one was a pact-wielder, you could never level yourself, getting access to the unique measurable metric called “Experience.”

From what Uther knew, once you accumulated enough experience, you would grow in levels, giving you extra stats to enhance your abilities more than others. Now, that didn’t mean you couldn’t enhance your stats without a pact. There were also “lesser pacts” known as bonds. It was a type of agreement that only divine-level beings could afford to make. Many weaker patrons could only every form just their one pact. Uther for instance, was a bond-wielder. He, and ninety-eight other elite warriors known as Fettore are bonded to Gungnir, the spear of the dead god, Odin. According to legend, the divine artifact had inherited the deity’s power before he passed.

Just like those without a bond, bonded had to undergo intense training to increase their statistics and gain power. Bond-wielders however had three distinct advantages over those without one: affinity for growth, stat gaining, and skill acquisition. Many of his skills, such as polearms, were gifted to him upon his acceptance to be bonded to the divine artifact. Sure, he could’ve trained with the weapon for a year on his own and likely gotten the skill and maybe even leveled it once. With his bond to Gungnir however, coupled with his intensive training with the Fettore, he already had the skill in the mid-twenties. Uther was informed there were plenty of pact-wielders who didn’t have a skill that high. Considering that many without a bond or pact don’t ever acquire more than five points in a single stat in their entire lives, Uther was doing pretty well in that regard.

Uther then looked over to his two feats, Survivor and Monstrous Disdain, and his small smile firmed into hardened resolve. Feats were boons that were acquired from major events in one’s lifetime. For the doomed, they reminded him of his past and drove him to be strong.

Survivor: Twice your life has been balanced on a knife’s edge against overwhelming forces, and twice you’ve survived where others have been slain. +10% chance of surviving encounters against foes.

Monstrous Disdain: Your hatred towards the monstrous and bestial knows no bounds. They have taken much from you. You will make sure that blood debt is repaid. +10% damage when fighting monsters and beasts.

Those descriptions rang true within the young Fettore’s soul. He had used the bonuses to bring ruin upon his prey. He hadn’t lied to the vampire when he said he was a hunter. While he did bounty hunt, taking down beasts and monsters was his true calling. Tired from the night’s events, the hunter laid his head back and closed his eyes.

….

The two young boys were running together on the small boat, their wooden swords smacking against each other as they pretended to be pirates. The sun was setting and it was nearly dark as the small vessel navigated the winding waters of the swamp. The low-hanging fog didn’t help the visibility either. “Shh! Hush boys!” Their father whispered harshly at them, the man visibly on edge and was frustrated his sons weren’t realizing just how serious of a predicament they were in.

The merchant couple had taken a big gamble to beat out their larger competitors. They decided to navigate through the Beast Bogs instead of sailing around the entire peninsula in order to get to the Nilelands. If successful, they will be able to make the largest profit they’ve ever had. It would enough to settle in one place and raise their two boys in peace, hopefully in the Nilelands itself. The doomed people much preferred warmth over cold, and the desert home of the empire sounded great to the couple. They just need to get there first.

“Boys, cease that racket at once! We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves. Now, give your mother your swords.” He chided them, still in a harsh whisper.

The two boys instantly went quiet and held their heads down, upset to make their father even more angry. They both trotted over to their mother, the younger brother sticking out his lower lip in a pout, and stuck their wooden toy swords out to their mother for her to take. Dark bags were under their mother’s eyes and her crow’s feet were very apparent as the stress from the day had been wearing on her. Still, upon looking at her two beloved children, she gave them a gentle smile.

The woman knelt down and looked at the boys at eye-level. “I’m sorry boys, but we need to be quiet now. We’re in a strange place, and we don’t know what’s out there.”

“Are there monsters out there?” The younger boy asked nervously.

“It don’t matter-“

“Doesn’t.” The mother corrected her older son.

The boy rolled his eyes, “It doesn’t matter because I’ll protect us.” The kid declared as he turned and raised his toy weapon in there.”

“I bet you will.” His mother chuckled. “Tell you what, I’ll let you keep your swords to protect us, if you two can handle doing a big-kid task. You think you’re up for it?”

“Yeah!” The brothers answered enthusiastically, almost too loud for their father’s liking.

“Good. Then, I want you to go down to the main deck and be big-strong warrior guards for us.”

“How do we be guards?” The younger brother asked.

“You and your brother keep your hand on your weapons scan the surrounding area for any dangers. If you see anything, you grab your brother and run straight to Mom and Dad, alright?”

The little boy nodded happily.

“What if we get bored?” The older brother asked.

She grabbed each of them by a shoulder, “Well, then you can play “I Spy” then. See if you can spot anything cool out in the swamp, yeah? Now, off you go.”

She gently pushed them on and the brother.

After a half-hour, the older brother had enough. “I’m bored. There’s nothing but grass, trees, and water.”

“And fog too.” The younger brother said.

“Yes Drogan, and fog too.” Uther said. His eyes then lightened up as an idea struck. “Let’s play pirates again.”

“Mom told us to be warrior guards.”

“Well, what if I’m a pirate and you have to guard the treasure from me?”

“Okay,” the younger brother agreed. “Arr, onguard.” The two children laughed as they smacked their wooden swords on each other. Drogan’s brother was the clear better of the two.

The older boy was a bit more observant and stronger than his brother. He deflected a thrust from Drogan and chuckled, “You’ll have to do better than that to best me, guard.”

The little kid furrowed his brow and bunched his lips. His right leg began to twitch for a couple seconds, before he leapt forward with a wild right-hand swing. The older brother stepped to the left and struck his brother on his exposed back, forcing him to his knees. “You’ve got to fix that, brother. Every time you twitch your leg like that, I know you’re going to attack like that. Now, you’re dead, and I get the treasure.”

“Ow! No fair!” Drogan shouted.

“Boys!” There mother interrupted with a harsh whisper of her own. “Stop messing around. It’s time for bed. Now, go inside and get ready.” She said, pointing to the room under the Bridge Deck where their whole family had crammed their three beds in to sleep.

The two boys didn’t want to gain the ire of their mom, so they both quickly agreed. “Are we good?” Uther asked as he extended a hand to help his sibling.

“Yeah,” the younger brother took the proffered hand and was helped back to his feet. The two brothers then proceeded to do their super-secret handshake: A knuckle-bump followed by an explosion before concluding with a high-five.

“Come on, I’ll race you to the-“

CRUNCH!

The elder brother’s words were cut off by the sudden noise coming from where their parents were. They snapped their heads to see a monster known as a manticore biting down on the shoulder of their father. It was a manticore, a creature with the face and body of a lion, wings of a bat and tail of a scorpion. Blood gushed out from the merchant’s wound, and he cried out in sudden pain and distress.

“Boys, hide yourselves in the cabin!” Their mother shouted. She then grabbed a long delicate knife that had been hidden inside her belt and ran at the leonine monster. She jumped on the monster’s back and began stabbing it repeatedly with the thin blade. The monster let go of her husband and roared in pain. Now free, the injured merchant fell to the ground and clutched his injured shoulder.

“Come on, we have to help.” Uther said. He took a step forward, but Drogan grabbed the sleeve of his tunic.

“But Mom said we should hide in the cabin.”

“Do you want to be a big kid or not?!” Uther shouted at his younger sibling. “Big kids protect their family. Are you coming?!”

A series of emotions could be seen on Drogan’s face, but they quickly resolved into a firm visage. Despite his quivering lower lip, the child squeezed his wooden sword and grunted in affirmation. They rush up the stairs to find the manticore had cornered their mother to the back of the ship, its back to the brothers. Their father was back on his feet but was limping over to a nearby barrel by the ship’s ledge, a thick trail of blood following him.

Not taking time to fully process the information, the two boys screamed and smacked the manticore’s right hind leg with all their might. The monster snarled and snapped its head. It turned and swiped at the boys, but was struck in its paw by a thick cutlass. The brothers looked to see their injured father wielding the blade and had rejoined the fight. Apparently, the weapon was in the barrel. The manticore let out a small cry of pain and recoiled.

Their father moved in between it and the boys before going on the offensive. The merchant began swinging his blade wildly at the injured monster. “Get them out of here!” He shouted to his wife as he drove the beast back and away from his family.

The boys watched their injured father in awe before they were both rapidly swept up by their mother. “What are you two doing?! I told you to hide in the cabin?!” She hissed as she carried them quickly down the wooden stairs of the ship.

Uther was defiant. “We protected you like big kids, just like you told us to.”

“Sorry mom. We were only trying to help.” Drogan said, truly apologetic.

She had just made it down to the main deck. Before she could truly admonish them for their recklessness, she gasped. The woman’s eyes widened just before she threw her sons to the side. The two boys bounce along the wooden deck a couple times. They both groan but bounce back quickly in a way that only children can. Uther was about to shout at their mother as to why she’d just thrown them, when he saw her.

The young boy’s jaw dropped as he had his answer. There was a second manticore now present, and it’s scorpion stinger was now impaling the woman straight through her chest. She spat out globules of blood, and her hand went limp, dropping her knife to the deck. Their mother turned her head to her boys and gave a gentle smile. “Run.” With that word, the last of her energy gave out, and her whole body went limp, now just held aloft by the manticore’s tail.

“Nooo!” Their father shouted. With a mighty yell, the already injured merchant jumped off the upper deck and sliced off the upper half of the manticore’s tail. The merchant attempted to roll gracefully along the ground, but with his injuries and lack of training, it was more of a haphazard crash. Still, he quickly got to his feet and put himself between his boys and a monster once more. The previous manticore he’d been fighting hopped down much more gracefully to join its more severely injured companion.

The partial tail amputee was rolling about growling and crying in pain as its tail bled. It then bit down on where its open wound was and somehow partially compressed the chitinous appendage. Immediately, the bleeding lessened to a trickle. “Boys, stay behind me. If I can kill one, the other will hopefully flee.” The doomed merchant began to formulate a plan, when a massive being lands on the ship. The vessel swayed one way nearly capsizing, before violently swaying to the other. Both Uther and their father crashed against the railing of the main deck, but Drogan managed to stay on his feet.

Now, it was the youngest boy standing between his family and the threat before them, a threat that happened to take the form of an even larger manticore. It was a male based off the fact it had a mane. It’s height and bulk easily dwarfed the others by half. The other imposing factor to it were its two tails, each poised and ready to strike. Despite the clear threat the monster possessed, Drogan continued to stare it down. Before Uther could say something, the younger brother’s right leg twitched, and he surged forward toward the male manticore with a scream.

The large monster just cocked his head curiously before casually swiping at the boy. The manitcore’s large, sharp claws easily slash across Drogan’s chest. The boy went flying across the deck in the opposite direction from his family. Like their mother, Uther watched as Drogan’s body laid unmoving in a rapidly growing pool of blood. The two female manticores looked over to their leader, a silent question being asked. The male put a hand on the headless corpse of Uther’s mother and growled. He was claiming the kill for himself.

The females backed off in acceptance then looked over to body of Drogan then to Uther and his father who had just managed to get back to their feet. Uther pressed his back to the railing as the ship rocked suddenly. Even though no one was at the wheel, the current of the swamp’s waterway still swirled and rushed. The ship began to spin a slight circle. Uther wondered if it was a whirlpool.

Uther’s father grit his teeth. He put his hand on Uther’s shoulder, blood still oozing from his shoulder wound and his cutlass trembling slightly in his shaky grip. “Son, I love you. Now go. You must survive.”

Uther had just enough time to wonder where his father had meant for him to go, before the injured merchant abruptly shoved him over the ship’s railing and into the water. Uther gasped for air and looked up to the ship. He had to fight to stay up and kicked with all his might as there indeed was a whirlpool below. Both the boy and the ship spun round looked up in desperation for his father. Uther only caught glimpses of the merchant fighting the two manticores, but the last sight he saw of his father was the man being pounced on by the two monsters at once.

They each bit down on his body consecutively. The last thing he heard before the water dragged him under was the cracking of his father’s bones.

…

Uther awoke with a gasp. His body was covered in sweat as he breathed heavily. The nightmare was a recurring one, but no matter how many times he had it, he was never used to the visions of his past. He ran a hand through his thick brown hair and breathed deeply. When he shook his head clear, he finally heard the knocking that had been going on repeatedly on his door.

“Mister Fettore, sir.” A young voice urgently called out from the other side.

“Yes,” Uther answered.

“Captain ordered me to get you quick-like. We require your aid. A monster is chasing us.”

Immediately, the doomed suppressed his emotions, replacing them with a cold and calculated fury. He grabbed his spear and opened his door. He couldn’t go in the past and change things, but he would make sure that every monster and beast that dared attack people would pay the price.