“Boy…”
“Boy!”
We’ve been traveling for a few days at a good pace. The excitement in the group is very positive and this caravan seems to be growing with more than just support classes.
“Flower Boy!”
I stay with the lead wagons that are out ahead of the main group. They have me dealing with small encounters so that I can learn about the undead while they are still weak.
The terrain started changing yesterday with the blight infecting the land. Looking at it, the blight, infecting is how I would describe it. To compare, if this were desert or a higher elevation, those places I would now call a harsher environment. This is death and decay that is on and eating away at the plant and animal life trying to survive.
“BOY!!!”
Zyrtec is shoving another quill into my hand. It’s like the Identifying Stones all over again, except with different engraving quills he keeps making. “You can do this!” The excitement in his voice as he anticipates this quill being able to channel my mana.
Think about that shopkeeper in Harry Potter who was trying to find Harry just the right wand. Then delusional like Gretta with none of the Identifying Stones working, and won’t let up.
Apparently, this is important to him as “There are only a handful of Runesmiths besides That Crafter!” Seems The Officer, has a sort of monopoly on Runecraft in the area with there being less than a dozen crafters and most of them working for him.
Zyrtec had a slight meltdown with me on day one once he found that I didn’t read any of the “core” languages. He was upbeat when he came back with that first quill and a piece of leather. Enthusiastic when I was able to scribe lines and shapes into the leather and pieces of wood that he found. But all that fell to the side when I failed to be able to push mana or anything through the quill.
Using the quill, for me, it’s like using an electric wood-burning tool or engraver. I can write and mark with it, even down into thicker material when I think about it. I’ve not had any issues using or triggering any magic items, but using mana? From the way Zyrtec is explaining the engraving process, when scribing, I am to be pushing my mana into the quill. The quill will then organize and align the mana, leaving a trail of that mana to fill the path where the quill engraved. There is a balance between the path I engrave and the mana filled. Too little mana and the rune will break or fail too soon. Too much mana destroys the material and at a minimum, destroys the rune. Then there is the quality, density, layering, filtering, and other descriptions that is just too much information for me.
What does catch my attention and draws me back into the conversation, is that more advanced manipulation processes can pull in other materials with the mana. The explanation leaves me picturing a hand-drawn circuit board with mana mixed with copper, silver, or gold.
“Hold!” A voice calls out, bringing our wagons to a stop. I hop off, grateful for the escape.
“Formation, front right. Nine lengths, One to three.” One of the trainers paced me as we walk forward to put it down.
We’ve been skirting the blight, letting me get comfortable contending with the undead. I can see where we’re heading, off in the distance. As we move closer, the encounters are becoming larger and more frequent.
“Three. Archer or caster in the rear.” I stand in front of two five-man cells with one trainer coaching me from behind. Unless something unforeseen happens, I will be on my own as it is the fastest way for me to learn right now.
“Hold this time until they form and let them make the first move. Incapacitate the ranged damage dealer first, then the others as you are able.” All the undead have been skeletons so far. The first few just stood there or with their hand up to stop. A deterrent or warning to what was to come. The next few encounters were skeletons club and shield. Always following the same attacking, and defending patterns.
The rune circle on the ground fads as the three finish forming. Two are a club with a shield, the third an archer. Nothing moves until I take one step forward. The three-man skeleton cell turns and orients on me. The two with shields take a guard position, and the archer draws down on me.
The arrow is deflected off the shield in my right hand, the sword wielded in my left this time. This trainer had decided that I will be using a sword and shield, alternating my main hand with each encounter. This method revealed that my left hand lacked the finesse of my right and it needed work.
As I circle, the skeletal cell remains stationary and turns as one to face me. The archer gets off five more shots before running out of arrows. I have not been able to use my speed or finesse to get around the two with shields. I could power my way through, but I was cautioned before not to overwhelm these lower-level skeletons and use them to learn how to fight with the ones that would be stronger.
Once I get closer again, this time they break formation and all attack at once, the archer just swinging the bow. At that point, it just becomes an issue of timing, to strike before or a counter-strike after, as I slowly retreat and wait for the openings.
*****
Turning and heading in a more direct route, we encounter two more variations of the skeletons. Sword with a shield and another with a spear, along with the different combinations in a three-man skeletal cell. The cells with two skeletons having a club and shield, an archer or spear user in the back, prove to be the most troublesome for me as I still haven’t found a good way to get around the first two as long as they are guarding.
Another day in and the fighting style of the skeletons have changed and no longer has a set pattern. Twice I’ve been critically hit with a club and shrugged it off with a stumble and a “Heal” under my breath while one of the five-man teams “interceded” so that I wouldn’t get hurt. Nothing like a club to the side of my face for me to no longer drop my guard.
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“Lucky, very lucky.” Was all the Healer said after making sure I wasn’t seriously injured. Making me rest for an hour “Just to be sure”, while giving Jack the stern look as if it would be his fault if anything happened to me. I prefer to wear a helmet now.
I’ve been keeping the Healing and Faith-based spells, for lack of better terminology, to myself. They do know that I can grow seeds, as a few of my late-night fans found out when waking in a bed full of their own flowers overgrowing everywhere.
*****
Coming to the tomb, it is a city-size mound of dirt. Like an enormous landfill hill of dirt. There is no wildlife to hunt and any rations we break open are eaten or burnt to ash by the end of the day. This close, facing the tomb, it radiates intense energy that you can feel.
Jack has found and now some Raiders are clearing the entrance. Guards have been posted and watches assigned. Some teams are wandering just beyond the camp as the drops of items are now worth their time to collect. I am told to rest, meditate, and prepare for the dawn.
*****
Morning light, the sun has not yet broken the horizon. The camp is already full of activity with food and portable crafting tables, selling and making last-minute repairs. I find something that fits my head well and is comfortable, upgrading my helmet costs me only a few coins.
“You are my charge today when the Tomb opens.” I look up to see a large heavily built man in scale mail, spear in hand, and a shield on his arm that is like a small wall. “We will keep to the center until the area is secure and it becomes known what the Tomb will release this day. You will follow me. I will protect you and you will live.” Hefting and driving the shield on his arm into the ground for effect. “I will not follow you. I do not take orders from you. I will see tomorrow and guard my own life first. And we will live.”
His gaze is firm and resolute, yet without hostility. “If this is acceptable to you, come fight at my side. We will begin the day in the center there.” He points to the large flat area before the Tomb. “If not, may your gods protect you and reward you greatly.”
Looking toward the sunrise. “We gather when the horn sounds. The Tomb should be opened when the light breaks.” With a final look and as I have no questions, he walks off toward where a crowd is gathering. After a moment of indecision, I follow.
*****
“Then we will decide together and I will let the vote stand!” Speaking to the crowd. The same guy who gave the opening speech is having a bit of a debate with a few dozen adventures. Jack is standing next to him but is not giving his opinion.
“Or we can let the Flower Boy decide!” His hand outstretched towards me, welcoming me to come up where he is. It makes me feel a bit self-conscious as the crowd continues to grow and gather at this location.
“He’s got Choice!” I hear someone yell behind me and a few in the crowd start to agree and already oppose whatever opinion I may have to say. “He’ll Kill Us All!” Others scream.
When I’m close enough, with the help of a few congratulatory slaps to my back that are more of pushing to move me forward. “Decide what?” I ask.
He has an annoyed look as he turns to Jack, as if this is his problem.
Jack smiles at the man to return the annoyed look as he says to me. “We can influence the drops and treasures within the Tomb and crypts.” He continues as he sees and knows that I don’t understand. “We will present ourselves before the Tomb just before it is opened. The strength and composition of the Raiding party presenting itself will determine the strength, composition, and rewards that the Tomb and crypts will produce.”
“The Tomb responds to whatever is presented to it. It is a common practice to only present one in four or one in three, members of the Raiding party. There are significantly fewer rewards, but everyone will most likely survive and that is priceless.”
“To further complicate things, the rewards that drop will be in proportion and suited to the classes that present themselves. This is even more of a concern since they know that a vault will be opened on this run. There are only a few Raiders that have the knowledge and are able to open one of the vaults without triggering traps.”
“Now look around you. Word has spread that a vault will be opened. A Raiding group is commonly about twenty-five people, maybe as many as fifty when Guilds cooperate. Scouts were asked to give a head count and the number of people here is upwards of one hundred and fifty people now. Not everyone will enter, but what if there were seventy-five or let us say one hundred even for the sake of argument? As the Raid number increases, the rewards split between us decreases.”
“Knowing this, more Raiders want to present themselves. But we do not know how the Tomb will respond. The best-case scenario is just an increase in trash mobs. Worst case, Higher tiered or multiple bosses.”
“Can we just limit how many are in the Raid?” I ask and heads are shaking no before I even finish the question.
“Never works.” The main guy says. “There is some ancient magic or something that I don’t understand. The Tomb knows who has Steeled themselves and set their mind to enter the Tomb. Anyone who has set themselves to enter may also present themselves. Once the opening of the Tomb begins, the reckoning is set and cannot be changed.”
“And what are you asking me to decide?” I ask the man as Jack walks past me towards the Tomb.
He walks up to me, close, acting like he has something in his hands to show me. He smiles and in a soft voice, “Nothing” he says. “I’m just using you for a distraction. Jack’s opening the Tomb now. You know where you’re supposed to be. Make your decision. Make your way there now or run for your life out of this area. If you decide you want to present yourself, hold one or both of your palms on the ground. Stay standing if you do not. Jack said you wouldn’t know.” He pushes me away to start me walking and turns back to the crowd.
I turn to see Jack already farther away than you would think possible and looking like he’s just casually jogging. People's heads are turning as I pick up my pace to a jog so that he doesn’t get too far ahead, but I lose sight of him anyways. Doesn’t matter, I know where to go.
The Tomb’s outer court is as long as a football field and twice as wide. I easily spot the fighter with that huge shield as he is just standing facing the sunrise waiting for it to crack over the horizon.
The sun’s rays begin to light the top of the Tomb. It grabs the attention of the Raiders and they start to flow and collect themselves onto the outer court as they know it is time.
An archer with a strung short bow looped over his chest and shoulder comes to stand next to us. He has four quivers hanging on him, but he is equipped with a large shield and club. I guess I would have to agree, arrows probably don’t do well against skeletons.
Looking around to get a head count, I find it easy because the Raiders are spreading out and grouping up with each other in cells of five or six each. There are three, four, five cells in front of us. Scanning behind us, I quickly count five, six, eight cells forming up and more are still coming.
Two more Raiders come to stand by us as a low vibration can be felt through the ground.
Turning to face the Tomb, a soft low note, deep like a fog horn, sounds and is heard and felt by all.
Raiders are dropping to their knees or on all fours. It looks as if they are bowing down or worshiping. This is what it must mean to present themselves.
I scan those around and behind me. There are more Raiders here than if I was at a packed movie theater and nearly half of them are presenting themselves on their knees with one or two hands on the ground.
As I turn to survey the crowd, it’s more like I’m at a mid-sized concert. They are fixated and focused on the Tomb. I return my attention to the Tomb but remain standing…
“Waldhar is pleased that many have come to be tested!” The voice echoes from the Tomb.
“Prove that you have the strength to enter and survive!”
Swarms begin to exit from locations high on the Tomb.
The Raiders begin to panic as spells start firing off and exploding in the air.
The fighter at my side starts to madly dig at the ground with his shield. Holding onto the outside edges and scrapping out a six-foot-long trench.
Cries of “Fliers!” fill the air as many Raiders start to turn and run. I get a strong impression that no one was expecting anything but skeletons as most of the Raiders assume the guard position and wait.
Mages are mostly throwing fire and spells that explode. Priests are warding and praying. There are a few archers and a couple of Raiders are slinging stones. Our archer had dropped everything and has readied his short bow, waiting until they are within his range.
As the arrows start to fly and random impact clashes begin and increase to a small roar, the fighter grabs me by the biceps and throws me into the trench. Himself quickly diving onto his side next to me and covering us with his shield. “Kick the dirt to protect us!” He yells as he is using his feet to push and create a dirt mound to block anything that might come at us from below.
The air already becoming warm and losing its oxygen to us, we stay quiet and wait as the sounds of combat start to quickly fade.
“You have survived and proven yourself strong of heart!”
He pulls back the shield to peek out.
“Enter!”
Standing, he assesses our position. Seeing it is safe, he begins walking to the entrance. “Come.” Is all he says.
As I am pushing myself up and out of the trench, my hand comes up, palm coated in blood. I am bleeding out through my leg. “Heal!” I sit as my head clears. I see the Raiders that are still running away being chased down by the skeletal gargoyle monkey-looking things with wings. “That’s Bullsh*t,” I say to myself as the sight of flying with skeletal wings doesn’t make any sense to me.
As I get up and turn to follow the fighter, I am deer in the headlights stunned, as I almost walked into one of the skeletal gargoyles that was coming at me. Now backing off, its eyes changing from red to white. It takes me a moment to realize it is waiting for me, and as long as I am moving toward the Tomb, it just watches. I keep my comments to myself as it flaps its wings to hover in place.