“Hey, you’re finally awake.”
Eda opened her eyes to see Warwick smiling at her.
They’d spent two days on the road, stopping at noon and night to rest and sleep. There were four others with them on the wagon– not counting the driver. Three of them wore robes and kept to themselves. She heard them discussing herbs and tinctures and assumed that they were heading to Whitespire to be alchemists or researchers.
She didn’t expect the trip to take so long. She hoped that since they were traveling to a city of mages, they would have a less mundane way of traveling. Thinking how Whitespire would be her home for the next three years both excited and frightened her. There was no one there to catch you when you fall when you were unchained. She was lucky to have Warwick with her – a reliable partner and a friendly face in a city of strangers.
“My turn to drop,” Warwick sighed. He locked his hands in front of him and rested his head on them – seemingly crying or praying.
As the only two combatants in the group, they were in charge of keeping watch at night. Warwick always took the first shift, oftentimes staying up long after midnight. Eda sometimes woke up to see him silently going through sword movements.
She stared t Warwick’s sleeping figure. It was a bit odd that he could sleep on a whim. He didn’t require calm or silence – or comfort, for that matter.
“He’s sleeping?” Casel, their fourth companion, gestured to Warwick. He was a glassblower by trade. His family was well-off in Greenhaven, which gave him a bit of girth around his stomach.
Eda nodded. She couldn’t understand Casel and the others. They would spend their days in labs or factories – cooped up in small rooms where everything was the same everyday.
“We’ll be stopping in a village,” Casel pointed. “Should we wake him up once we get there?”
Eda shook her head. Warwick had no interest in villages and he looked like he needed the sleep. She could probably leave him in the wagon. He did say he would wake up the moment he took 1 damage.
“He stays in the wagon,” she smiled, “Do we even have time to look around?”
“Plenty,” Casel answered. “At least enough time for a quick snack.”
Horse and wagon plowed on for half an hour until they reached the small pastoral village of Edif. It was more hamlet than village – with most of its coin being earned through sheep and chicken.
“We’r stoppin for a whayl,” the wagon driver rasped. “Leav' er stay, maketh no differenc' to me. Jus mak' sure yau’re ere in half an haur.” He jumped down the wagon, checking the wheels then moving to the horse.
Casel stood up and stretched his arms. “I’m going. Any of you coming?”
He earned spiteful looks from the three aspiring alchemists. One of them muttered something about the town being filthy, while another one waved him off dismissively.
“I’ll go.” Eda answered. She placed her pack beside Warwick’s and hopped down the wagon.
“Are you sure?” Casel asked.
“It’s fine,” she answered. “I have a sword with me.” She patted the longsword on her side.
“A mage with a sword – that’s new,” Casel raised an eyebrow. “What about your companion? You sure he’ll be fine?”
“Warwick?” Eda laughed. “He’ll be fine. He’ll wake up the moment he takes damage.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“He’s a bit special,” she explained. “If you stab him with a dagger, he’ll wake up the moment it pierces his skin. He won’t die easily.”
“He will?” Casel laughed, “How’d you know?”
“He made me stab him a few times.” Eda frowned’ remembering their first experiments. It started with his legs, but when it was successful – Warwick asked him to stab him in the stomach, chest, heart, and neck. “Don’t worry about it,” she smiled at Casel. “You can stab him later. You’ll see.”
Casel frowned, not sure if Eda was jesting or telling the truth. There was something she couldn’t place about her. She was undoubtedly crazed like all who choose the dangerous life of an adventurer – but she was also calm and collected.
For a second, he thought she was more of an assassin than a mage. And what mage would wear a sword?!?
“Coming?
“Yes,” he fumbled after her.
----------------------------------------
The village was world’s apart from Greenhaven. It was more like a settlement with 2-3 dozen houses than an actual town.
Casel gravitated towards the stalls that sold skewers of lamb so Eda decided to check the village’s other shops.
She was only walking for a couple of minutes when a little boy approached her.
“Lookin fer somethun, miss?” he asked while tugging at her robe.
Eda smiled at the boy. “Is there anything interesting in this village?” She remembered Warwick telling her to always ask people about things – something to do about quests and receiving or getting clues to them.
“Me ma sells milk and butter,” the boy proudly proclaimed. “Besht in the village.”
“Then lead on,” Eda gestured.
She followed the boy as he happily pranced towards a small shop. Clay pots and canisters lined the counter and a pair of sheep stood in front of the shop.
“Tovy, who’s your friend?” the middle-aged woman behind the counter asked the boy.
“She’s from the wag’n, ma. She wans to buy milk an stuff.”
The woman smiled at Eda. She started to talk but hesitated once she saw Eda’s strange robes. “Is there anything my h-humble shop can offer the young miss?” she stammered.
“I’m no miss,” Eda laughed. “The unchained don’t have titles. I’m just Eda from Greenhaven, and I heard you were selling milk.”
“That I do,” the woman replied.
While looking at the store’s items - Eda talked to the woman about the weather, life in the village, and news from the road. She didn’t forget to ask about strange rumors and tales – even offering a few coppers for information.
She ended up leaving with a jug of milk, a pound of butter, and a story of a strange obelisk in the mountains.
----------------------------------------
Warwick spun the sword around him. The falchion was so much different from his wooden sword – both in weight and balance. He chided himself for getting it so close to his unchaining.
Sword moves needed to be inculcated to memory. Their proper execution required constant practice and repetition. Small variations in execution lead to drastic drops in power and efficacy – a thing he learned when confronting the elf in the lake.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
He moved from one variation to the next – from the straightforward cuts and smashes of crash, sever, and avalanche to the curving arcs of double, infinity, and rise. He practiced the individual moves and chains until midnight, drilling the memory into his body.
Most of his moves were slashes rather than thrusts. Weapons tended to get stuck in armor or flesh. They did not turn ethereal-like even when properly executing an attack. Chain attacks became more difficult to pull through – especially the ones that required long arcing slashes.
Curved blades mitigated the problem. They sliced the enemy rather than cut them, but that also meant shallower wounds.
Warwick inspected the sword in his hand. The wider point of the falchion gave it more weight. It compensated for the curved blade by allowing its weilder to deal heavier and deeper blows.
“Status,” Warwick whispered.
The world had no such thing as systems and displays. No actual windows appeared in front of him. The words were just habit. A habit that grew into an unconscious trigger for his mind to assess his current state.
Warwick Godsbane
Swordsman 22
Strength
40
Damage
+ 1-6 (avg +4)
Agility
40
Accuracy
+ 20 percent
Vitality
30
Health
60 (90, armored) regen 2-5 per day
Intellect
60
Mana
80, regen 8 per hour
Combat Skills
Physical
Magic
Sword Use
26 (skilled)
Water Magic
7
Hammer Use
19(capable)
Wind Magic
8
Dodge
25 (skilled)
Sword Attacks
Crashing Meteor. 2-18 (10). descending vertical attack to target’s head or shoulder.
Double Strike. 1-16 (8) x2. rising diagonal strike to a downward diagonal strike tracing the same path.
Sever the Waterfall. 2-14 (8). horizontal attack to target’s side
Southern Infinity. 1-14 (7) x2. rising diagonal strike arcing to another diagonal strike at the opposite side.
Avalanche. 1-24 (12) plus 1-18 (9). thrust to the chest to a descending slice to the chest or shoulder. freezing effects
Rising Phoenix. 1-16 (8). rising diagonal attack paired with a spinning jump. fire effects
Enhancement / Movement Skills
Rampage. enhances reflexes and strength. adds 2 levels to speed and strength sources
Rush. doubles movement speed. creates afterimages while moving
Source Abilities
Strength 2
Steel 3
Speed 1
Sight 1
Spells
Second Sky. range 2. creates a platform of solid air
Water Lance. range 5. 1-2 (1). creates aspear of water that strikes the target
Tempest. 0-1 (0). range 5. creates a blast of wind that pushes the target
Stoneheart. range 5. makes the caster impervious to liquids from outside his body
Notable Equipment:
Steel Falchion
2-12 (7) + 2-6 (4), fast attacks, increased critical chance
Maul
2-10 (6) + 2-12 (7), slow attacks, chance to stun
Scale Armor
negates/mitigates damage adding an effective health of 30
The numbers weren’t arbitrary. Warwick judged his stats based on how he perceived the abilities of normal people, as well as what he could read up on magic.
He was surprised that his agility reached 40. Practicing dodge and his double jumps seemed to have increased his body awareness and agility.
He was ready.
Warwick checked on the wagon and his sleeping companions. He debated on whether to wake Eda or not, ultimately deciding to let her sleep.
He turned to the strange monument a few steps away from the wagon. Eda mentioned the strange monument from her trip to the village. She didn’t even have to convince the driver to visit the place – it was on the route and there was a campground not far from it.
The stone obelisk was said to have existed since time immemorial and even the most inquisitive of mages could not determine its use.
Warwick approached the obelisk. He was quite sure the obelisk was a waygate – especially once the wagon driver told them there were several of the same monument around the kingdom.
Moonlight allowed him to inspect the obelisk without lighting a torch. Words were etched on its surface in kingdom runes and the letters of the elven alphabet were written bellow.
The words on etched in stone read: The Path Is Twofold, The Guide Is Many.
Warwick frowned. The two-fold path could mean the two different alphabets – but if it was that simple, then the riddle would have been solved long ago.
No, he thought. The riddle was more complex than that.
Puzzles and ciphers were a regular part of his previous world. Most dungeons incorporated one or two of them – as did treasure maps for the most powerful of artifacts.
Warwick’s mind ran through dozens of interpretations of the words as well as their translations. He ran multiple scenarios in his mind, focusing on the ones that showed promise.
“Hey,” Eda tapped him on the shoulder. “You stayed up all night.”
She had woken up close to an hour ago and saw the sky almost alight with the first rays of dawn. Her chest tightened for a moment, seeing Warwick was not near the wagon. She stood up in panic, only to find him sitting in front of the obelisk.
“You’re too intent on that thing,” she chided. “You should rest.”
Warwick turned to her and smiled. The key to the gate was complex and simple at the same time – if one was experienced with ciphers.
There were 30 letters on the riddle, aligning with the phase of this world’s moon – which meant the answer to the cipher was dependent on the day. But that was just one path. The rest of the cipher involved translating the kingdom runes to elven, transposing the letters by the phase of the moon, counting the strokes of the transposed elven words, and then writing the numbers for each word in alternating kingdom and elven runes.
“Watch,” Warwick traced the numbers on the air with his forefinger.
The base of the monument began to glow, rising with every stroke marked o the air in front of it.
“What is that?” Eda whispered in wonder.
“A fast-travel thing,” Warwick answered, flicking his hand to cancel the sequence. “There’s one in Whitespire. We should probably get there first before investigating strange monuments.”