Jack fought back a yawn, one footstep plodding after another as he made his way along the road by the light of the nearly full moon. Still, he had been up without sleep for nearly two days. The adrenaline and determination that had kept him going had long since been replaced by relief and exhaustion.
Recalling his father’s lessons and the ancient memories they had triggered, he turned his focus to the treeline by the side of the road, quickly spotting a thick traveler's pine that he could sleep under, the dome of branches over his head sure to trap in his body heat, a thick bed of dry needles seemingly all but made for him.
It was all he could do not to immediately drift to sleep, pausing only long enough to slake his thirst with the quick application of the water spout spell and several of the now empty wine jugs he had claimed from the wagon, and to scribe an alarm sigil with the chalk he had found in the first wagon. For all that chalk alone could only scribe the weakest runes, it was the best he could do, scribing both the Obscuro and Lituus runes. Hopefully no night time predator, whether walking on two legs or four would think to look his way. And if they did, he would waken the instant their hands or paws disturbed the bowers of the tree.
Feeling safe and secure at last, he allowed himself to drift off on a bed of pine needles over which he placed the woolen blankets he had claimed from the wagon, as cozy and comfortable as his own bed, the sharp rich scent of pine soothing away the dark memories of too much blood and roasting flesh, allowing him the peace of a dark, dreamless sleep.
And when he awoke the next morning, he did so with laughter, realizing in that sweet, halcyon moment that he had no master, no obligation save to himself. He could always follow the path of the adventurer, but there really was no rush. He was free to savor each and every day as he so chose. And if the flickering remnants of ancient memory were true, having dared the path of peril, the one foe he need never fear again was time’s hoary embrace.
He would always appear his present age. A young man with his whole life ahead of him. He literally had forever to do whatever he wished. All he need do is survive whatever challenges he dared.
He was well and truly free.
Climbing is now Novice Rank 2.
A brilliant sunrise soon crested to midday and then sunset again, but Jack hardly noticed until twilight’s gentle gloom caressed the bowers of the tree he had climbed, feeling a fierce sense of exultation as he drew a bead on a fierce looking stag, impressive rack raised as the majestic beast sniffed the air.
But Jack was downwind and when he let his arrow fly it was as silent as Death’s caress as it sailed through the air, plunging through the neck of his prey, just below the skull, downing it instantly.
Arrow has critically struck target! Target has perished. Experience earned!
He flashed a fierce smile, exulting in his kill. He knew that shot had been beyond him, but he had lined his target up, did his best to wait for the perfect pause in the subtle shifts of air rustling the branches nearby, and let loose at what he felt was the perfect moment, having no doubt that it was moments like these, of perfect mastery of one’s skill, that led to the growth all students hoped to achieve.
Archery is now Apprentice Rank 2!
Jack quickly made his way down his perch, finding his ability to move through the forest easier than ever, most of his survivalist skills going up a full rank that day he had spent tracking, foraging and hunting, finding any number of wild herbs to flavor his stew pot, in addition to fox glove, golden nettle and a number of other healing herbs Eltier had instructed him in the use of, though he discovered no truly magical plants that would allow him to catalyze fresh enchanted potions. For the latter required sensing portals to Regio, finding pockets of mystical lands overlapping Mundus and infused with powerful spiritual energies, and he encountered nothing like his one experience within Eltier’s garden.
But he had made prudent use of his discoveries, happily using his Fecund Growth spell whenever he found a new herb or claimed a fresh cutting before putting it in his Pouch of Holding, increasing that spell by a full novice rank as well.
He was continuously amazed at how fast he was growing, though he had no doubt Novice ranks came easiest of all. Still, compared to the version of himself just a week back that had no idea he was just one of countless iterations of himself that had come and gone, he was a completely different person, benefiting from the equivalent of years worth of insights and training in multiple skills. Not that he felt any more clever, just that skills came to him as if he were recalling old lessons, as opposed to learning it all anew.
So far, only Sven’s runes had been different, and it chilled Jack to think how perilous a risk he had taken, gambling with his soul for power torn free of his enemy. Or enemies, as the case may be.
He had even received a fresh quest to find the origins behind Sven’s predatory controller, but had deliberately pulled away from that quest offer, sensing it stored in the depths of the interface that was as now much his psyche as an AI construct. Though he might hit accept, should he ever find himself in the city or town serving as his enemy’s base, for now he was happy not propelling himself along a path that could so easily lead to his peril if he didn't immediately grab a class and start leveling up, as if fate itself was subtly trying to pressure him to ascend as fast as he could.
Fortunately, he was cognizant enough to step back and make the choices that would allow him to grow at his own pace, as safely as possible, as he worked toward unlocking a class he could truly be happy with, for what would hopefully be countless centuries of life.
In the meantime, after having received the knowledge that, upon his parent’s acceptance and inspection of the slaver’s caravan wagons, Hidden Valley was now well and truly safe, receiving a Core Quest Completion notification and a nice hefty boost to his experience.
He was finally free of that last burden upon his conscience, now savoring the sense of freedom that came from walking one's own path through life, free of unnecessary peril and unwanted obligations.
He sensed he was traveling in the general direction of Greyspeak, which might be a week or perhaps a month away, and either was fine with Jack. A part of him looked forward to embracing the life of an adventurer, eager to explore realms of Regio and perhaps unlock hidden powers and abilities, though he suspected that would come easiest when he found his ideal class. He knew that was a perilous path, however, and was equally happy with the idea of enrolling at whatever academy or arcane college might take him, wowing his professors with how quickly he mastered arcane tomes, eager to excel as an apprentice magus and learn all he could, master all the spells he could, before he ever dared risk peril at all.
Both imagined paths were as much fantasy as reality, he had no doubt the reality would be different, but it was still exciting to imagine all the possibilities. In the mean time, he was determined to embrace the simple joy of living his life in the beautiful outdoors, savoring every sunrise and sunset, every hidden glade he found traveling through the heart of primeval woods, reveling in the golden shafts of sunlight spearing through the lush green canopy overhead, feeling almost a spiritual connection to the woodlands all around him as one day flowed into the next.
By week’s end, all his survival skills had achieved at least Novice Rank 5, and every evening before he let sleep claim him he would practice casting all his elemental magics, so long as he had found a safe clearing, and dosed anything that might burn with Geyser beforehand. He would mime engaging in combat with imaginary foes with Ice Shield in one hand and an Elemental Armor forged cuirass protecting his torso, tossing the remains of his dinner in the air behind him before spinning around and blasting the air with streams of fire, water, or air, as if striking at opponents from all quarters.
At first, his accuracy was so bad that he had to laugh, but by the third night he was able to spin around and fire, hitting a target the size of a tossed up stone with streams of water, air, or fire, more often than not.
By week’s end he had achieved Novice Rank 5 with Firestream, Wind Gust, and Geyser. Ice Shield and Elemental Armor were definitely more complex castings, and he only cast them at the beginning of his training, and still managed to hit Novice Rank 4.
He was guilty only of neglecting Stone Shot. With a 12 second buildup time and accuracy far worse than his bow and penetrating no better than a sling stone, he hardly thought it worth the bother and had a hard time motivating himself to summon more than a dozen or so shots against hide it failed to penetrate each night. As a consequence, Stone Shot was only Novice Rank 3.
And much to his surprise and pleasure, his Mana had also gone up, a full 10 points by week’s end.
Congratulations! You have achieved Rank 1 of Diligent Arcanist, having practiced casting spells for a minimum of ten full hours. Mana has permanently increased by 10 points. Rank 2 of Diligent Arcanist will increase your Mana by an additional 20 points, and requires a minimum of 50 hours spent practicing your spells.
Jack couldn’t help hooting for joy as the notification flashed across his mind’s eye, fortunately not effecting his real sight in the least, and the second week he was embracing life on his own he increased his training period from sunup to noon. He recalled how brittle Ice Shield had seemed when first he had used it, though it looked thicker and radiated a certain resilience he hadn’t sensed before. Upon examining it closely, he found that Novice Rank 4 would allow his magic disk to absorb a full 20 points of damage from any attack before shattering, so it would now deflect all but the strongest sword swings.
His mentor had been right.
Though absolutely pathetic at Novice Rank 1, it was rapidly coming into its own. But as much as he took pleasure in his increased spell casting proficiency, the casting and use of arcane magics feeling more natural than ever, now able to direct his summoned foot-long killer bee to strike the now ragged fur he had laid out with pinpoint accuracy just by willing it, his spells had slowed to a crawl from achieving Novice Rank 5 which had come so quickly, to Apprentice Rank 1, which seemed so far away.
Even his Ice Shield, which he decided to really push himself by casting with his arm over a cheerful roaring fire, Jack feeling genuine strain as he fought to hold it as long as he could before it melted, finally achieved, but would not crest beyond, Novice Rank 5.
The same was true of his Elemental Armor spell which Jack would cast over and over again, releasing it each time so his mana would refill before attempting to visualize it as more solid and durable than ever, went up past the Novice ranks, not even when he began ramming himself against a very carefully placed, very blunt branch he had set up like a pikeman’s braced spear, carefully wrapping the end in one of his now plentiful hides.
You have successfully charged: Makeshift spear! - You have managed to hit yourself for a Stunning Blow! 10 Damage and 1 Light Wound suffered!
He suffered getting the breath knocked out of him only once, quitting the insane practice altogether when the branch broke and speared him just below the cuirass, and he could only thank his mother’s almost magical quilting skills ,and that his gambeson extended to midthigh, that he wasn’t in a lot more pain than he had been that day, electing to forgo any hunting even after he had cast that painful healing spell that always left him depressed and drained for a good hour after casting.
All his favorite spells were now all Novice Rank 5 and their growth had slowed to a crawl. Only Lesser healing, which he knew he should be diligently training up with a bit of self-inflicted discipline and Stone Shot were still at Novice Rank 3 by the end of his second week after all his practice.
As frustrating as his stall in leveling up his arcane skills had been, his diligence definitely had paid off in other ways, Jack reveling in the boost to his arcane reserves, his mana pool now at 130 points.
Congratulations! You have achieved Rank 2 of Diligent Arcanist, having practiced casting spells for a minimum of ten full hours. Mana has permanently increased by 20 points. Rank 3 of Diligent Arcanist will increase your Mana by an additional 30 points, and requires a minimum of 250 hours spent practicing your spells.
Jack winced, not blind to the multiplicative progression. Of course he'd shoot for that 250 hour mark, and sooner rather than later, but that would require him devoting himself to spell practice for 8 hours a day for a solid month or more. And this past week he had, for all intense and purposes, stopped traveling altogether, instead setting up a semi-permanent camp where he'd train morning and night, taking breaks only to relax and hunt, cooking the meat thankfully perfectly preserved in his pouch of holding, whenever he failed to catch fresh meat for his pot, which was rare. His stealth had been steadily improving, and his Archery skill had already hit Apprentice Rank 3.
He glared at his bow. Why was his Archery already in the Apprentice ranks when the spells he practiced so diligently had slowed in their progression to a crawl? Because save for the dozen or so practice shots he would take on the practice target of grass and rawhide he had carefully constructed and stored each day in his pouch of holding as a warm-up before going on his daily hunt, he didn’t use his bow for anything save taking the actual shot that would bring down his prey.
Then he chuckled and realized he was being an idiot.
Of course his Archery and Stealth skills were now in the Apprentice Ranks.
He was actually using them in the crucible of combat. They were the tools bagging him both experience and kills, and it only made sense that those skills would increase far faster than any other. He resolved that day to put away his bow after a final day of hunting. With so much meat and wild herbs now packed away in his pouch of holding that he knew he was in no danger of starving any time soon.
Only when predators were a heartbeat away from killing him did he regret not having embraced his spells on the hunt even sooner.
His arrow had just flown free of his bow, arcing through the air, spearing his target through the heart. The dear collapsed as quietly as if he had fallen in slumber, another perfect kill.
It was only after he had left his perch in a carefully chosen tree, making his way rapidly through the underbrush that he realized his near fatal error, the sharp musk of predators detected by his all too human nose only a heartbeat before a trio of massive wolves broke free of cover.
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They were massive beasts, easily 200 pounds, with enlarged jaws and over-sized incisors.
Jack’s heart began to race, his stomach doing flip flops, frozen with terror.
The odd frozen tableu lasted only moments before the wolves darted for the fallen buck. All save for the largest of the pack, snarling and stepping forward, pinning Jack with its killing gaze.
Ice Shield successfully cast!
Jack didn’t hesitate to stumble back, his shield coming to him as fast as he could tense his wrist, his ingrained reflex showing the true benefit of all his practice, regardless of how fast or slow it might crawl up the ranks.
A reflex that saved his life as he felt more than heard the unseen predator spring for his throat behind him, spinning around, shield forward, screaming for his life.
“Ignis Fons!” Jack screamed, not even caring when the bow he still held went ablaze just as did the Dire Wolf’s snout after crashing into his shield, powerful jaws shattering it, but not before Jack’s liquid flame had seared its face, poaching at least one of its eyes, and Jack could only hope it had sucked in searing flame with his agonized yelp as well.
Quickness Check made!
But Jack was in no hurry to find out, turning around and darting into the underbrush just a few feet away, trying to use his greater mobility to dodge the snarling wolf that had so expertly grabbed his attention, running for all he was worth back to his hunting tree, leaping for the first branch and scurrying up it just befor hot fangs snapped through the air where his legs had been a heartbeat before.
His breath came in ragged gasps, hands trembling with adrenaline, terror, and desperate relief at having survived that encounter, gazing down at what were now a pack of snapping howling dire wolves gazing up at him with baleful eyes as he hid in his tree.
Jack swallowed, gazing at massive oversized jaws with the bite strength to shatter a shield able to deflect a full 25 points of damage. He shuddered to think about what those jaws could do to his flesh.
It was some minutes before he found the courage to glare down at the wolves, but he forced himself to do so, hating the feeling of being a coward trapped in a tree within woods he had felt the master of, just the day before. Hating it almost as much as he feared the grizzly death waiting for him below.
“Voco apis!” He whispered, not hesitating to sacrifice just a small fraction of the experience pool he had garnered through his hunting adventures these past two weeks, feeling a fierce sense of satisfaction as a foot long crimson bee formed into being, darting about with a fluid grace that his Novice Rank 1 version had lacked. It was definitely faster, and somehow looked more solid. More real. He only hoped it would do some good against the wolves.
But considering their snapping teeth and the admittedly small pool of experience he would lose if they killed his summons, he knew he would need more than a single bee to help him.
But he wasn’t so foolish as to try two summons at once and risk dizziness or collapse or god knew what else, when a single misstep right now would kill him.
Instead, with both legs and one arm carefully wrapped around the trunk, his butt on a sturdy branch, he forced himself to practice with his least useful spell.
“Jacio Funda!” He cried out in a sonorous voice, knowing careful intonation helped with casting, not having spent dozens of hours casting it so well that he could do it silently, like he could with Firestream and Ice Shield.
Much to his delight, his first pebble hit its target. It did no damage, unfortunately, but the satisfying yelp as it smacked against a wolf's maw was the distraction Jack was looking for.
Strike! Jack roared in his mind, his Blood Bee immediately darting down for one of the distracted wolves whose head had turned to gaze at the yelping packmember, stinging the monstrous beast right in the neck.
The targeted wolf yipped in pain-filled surprise, its head snapping around far faster than Jack had expected, savaging his blood bee an instant before it could escape.
Jack winced and groaned, knowing he’d never see those 20 sacrificed experience points again, the struck wolf looking at him with murder in its eye.
Before it began snapping about agitatedly, clearly in pain.
Then every single one of the massive wolves began tearing at the tree trunk in concert, displaying a degree of intelligence, or perhaps savage cooperation, that chilled Jack to see.
But he forced himself to remain calm and stick to his plan.
It was his only chance of getting out of this alive.
“Voco apis. Jacio Funda!”
And again Jack lashed out with a magical sling stone, this time missing his target, as did the next three stones he fired.
And perhaps the wolves sensed his growing anxiety, attacking the savaged trunk with renewed vigor.
Before the one Jack had struck with his blood bee abruptly broke off, emitting an awful coughing bark, then a whimper, before collapsing to the ground, wild blinking eyes and a heaving chest making it all too clear it was struggling just to breathe.
And failing.
Dire Wolf slain! Experience earned!
The wolves howled in alarm and fury. It chilled Jack how well he could sense the intensity of their emotions. He wondered if it had anything to do with his steps along the Druidic animal path. Not that that affinity warded him from his aggressors killing glares in the least.
This time, Jack slowed his panicked breathing, allowing himself the seconds needed to build up his pathetic earth spell.
“Jacio Funda!” Which still served to elicit a momentary yelp, Jack’s bee striking a second wolf just behind the neck, much as he had the first, no longer caring if his foes savaged it before he could pull it away, which they did.
Jack took a deep breath, seeing how his mana was now two thirds depleted. He waited for it to climb back up before reserving 16 points in summoning yet another bee.
Jack grinned when the remaining wolves paid careful attention to the bee, buzzing just above where they could strike.
“That’s right, shit-heads! Being stung by this bee means death! You feeling okay there, boy? Having trouble breathing yet? He taunted the wolf that had been most recently stung and was already trembling and patning.
And as they focused on his bee, he took the time to carefully aim once more.
“Jacio Funda!” Jack felt a fierce jolt of excitement when the stone managed to crack against one of the nearest wolve’s fangs, immediately putting the second part of his plan into action, commanding his bee to dark straight for the yelping wolf's mouth.
Dire Wolf has been critically struck by Killer Bee! Dire Wolf has been poisoned! Stinger lodged in throat. -4 to save versus death. Saving throw failed!
He smiled in cold satisfaction, when that wolf howled and spasmed and died in mere seconds, pulling up the combat log he ignored for the most part, not wanting to risk distraction while fighting for his life, most wounds being self-evident. But a quick perusal of his combat log made it clear that the wolf he had seared with flame was impaired, but wouldn't die of his wounds, unlike the wolf emitting guttural growls and yips that turned to awful wheezes as it finally crashed to the ground, a third predator finally succumin to the Blood bee's deadly poison.
The remaining wolves howled and snarled their fury, hate-filled eyes promisin Jack a grizzly death. But they wouldn't have survived this long in the pitiless wilds if they were fools, nor were they mindless beasts who existed only to kill. They were predators hunting for survival. And when Jack summoned another yet another killer be that had proven so inimical to their own, they didn't even waste time on parting snarls, all of them tucking their tails and fleeing in utter silence, leaving behind three fallen packmates and a tree trunk that had been savaged by powerful jaws.
You have survived an assault coordinated by a pack of Dire Wolves!
You are directly responsible for the deaths of three Dire Wolves. Full experience earned! You are also responsible for the maiming and fleeing of one additional dire wolf, and have claimed a portion of the pack's fierce pride and potential.
Experience lost for originally fleeing has been reclaimed.
Congratulations! Firestream has ascended to Apprentice Rank 1!
Ice Shield has ascended to Apprentice Rank 1!
Stone Shot is now Novice Rank 5!
Summon Killer Bee has Ascended to Apprentice Rank 2!
Congratulations! You have achieved the maximum experience possible for a Level 1 character. Do you wish to choose a class at this time?
Jack blinked in awe, delight, and sudden apprehension, carefully shaking his head. “No,” he said aloud, almost fearing making a stupid impulsive choice, high as he was on adrenaline and the sheer rush of surviving his near fatal encounter.
Class selection has been deferred at this time. No further experience can be directed towards level accrual. All additional experience will now be directed solely towards skills use until a class is chosen.
Jack’s eyes widened with delight. It was exactly what he had hoped for. That once he had maxed out his level 1 potential, his experience wouldn’t just evaporate into thin air.
A suspicion that had only grown when he found that skills used while hunting developed far faster than those used in safe, isolated practice had crystalized into a delicious certainty.
Even though he would earn zero experience toward level 2 until he chose a class, the possibility of actually achieving ever increasing proficiency with his favorite skills and opening whatever exciting classes might be available was a goal finally within his reach.
All he had to do was be willing to put himself in mortal peril, over and over again.
With only one life to live.
Jack grimaced and shook his head.
“Well, at least I know how to power-rank my skills, assuming the training doesn’t kill me,” he said to himself, carefully peering all around for long minutes before daring to step out of the tree.
3 Dire Wolf Carcasses have been successfully stored.
Jack wasted no time with prepping and skinning meat, finally appreciating just how perilous his solo exploration of these primeval woodlands was, and how foolish and lucky he had been to survive so many days unmolested in his camp.
Still, he spent long moments staring in all directions, looking for any trace of a threat before furtively darting forward, making a beeline for the nearest tree with branches spread invitingly for his now adroit hands and feet to latch onto and climb, spending an anxious hour doing nothing but putting as much distance as he could from the kill spot where he had taken out those wolves, sticking to the treetops and leaping from tree to tree where it was safe and feasible as much as possible.
Congratulations! Climbing is now Apprentice Rank 1.
Old reflexes quickly come to the for when you repeatedly risk your life fighting and fleeing. Memories long forgotten are yours once more! Finesse permanently increased by one point to 12!
Yet as wonderful as those notifications were, Jack felt nothing but dread. For his climbing to break through to Apprentice in just an hour’s time, yet his Stealth not at all, and for his physical stats to increase but not his Perception, could only mean one thing.
He was still being hunted. He was still in mortal peril. It was the only thing that made sense. And his perception was still 11 because he was too blind and stupid a prey animal to sense the hunters who now had him in their sights.
Wise enough to know when he was outmatched, Jack spent a wakeful night in the tree tops, marking his chosen site with runes of alarm and obfuscation, not minding the expenditure of experience in making them bloodrunes either. He certainly had more than enough life force, having maxed out an unclaimed level, and Journeman Rank 1 had reduced the original cost by slightly more than half.
Whether it was the warning buzz of his Blood bee, or his runes, his tree remained undisturbed. And for the entirity of the next day when he continued to flit from tree top to tree top or risk mad dashes from one inviting tree to another, he saw no trace of any dire wolves.
It was almost a relief that his climbing skill and stats hadn’t increased by the end of the following day, but he didn’t let up his vigilance for a second, grateful once more for the oversupply of rope the slavers had kept for what were no doubt the most nefarious of purposes, easily enough sown into a hammock between two exceptionally stout branches, the tree even stouter after Jack flooded it with his Plant Growth spell.
He then tied himself secure to his hammock with a further piece of rope, his dreams flooded with the memory of learning a dozen stitches by his mother’s side almost before he could speak, her arts coming so naturally to his stubby little fingers, before the natural inclinations of an energetic boy had him favoring the outdoors far more than his mothers sewing room. And perhaps his father’s troubled gaze that Jack only now understood put to rest her insistence that he practice by her side, perhaps in preparation to teach him all that she knew.
Old lessons you embraced as a little boy in your mother’s lap are quickly recalled when your life is on the line! Weaving recalled at Novice Rank 5! It appears you’re a natural at this, Jack. Or perhaps it’s your mother’s gift, equally suited to stitching together rope as it is the souls of your enemies!
All Jack recalled for certain from those childhood memories was that the sharp arguments he had heard from his parents room had faded almost as soon as she had freed him from crafting lessons altogether, and his father had never failed to do all he could to please his wife in every other way she asked for, and Jack knew even now they were still deeply in love, both having made sacrifices for the other.
And no matter how his life might have turned out had his mother not feared teaching him her darkest gifts he really didn't want to think too deeply about, at least he could still put together up a surprisingly comfortable hammock, he thought to himself, drifting to dreamless wolf-free sleep at last.
***
Though he had greatly enjoyed his time living wild and free in the woods, he was now more cognizant of the perils than ever, spending the next handful of days eating previously cooked dear meat and water directly from his belt pouch, sleeping in hammocks he knitted together in the tree tops, Plant Growth always assuring sturdy safe perches. And Jack was careful to choose the stoutest trees he could before enhancing them even further. It was the best way to keep himself safe, and he'd be a fool to do otherwise, as far as he was concerned.
Whether it was due to his diligence and care, or pure luck, he eventually made it back to the main road unmolested, having seen no further sign of any predators save himself, Tracking having finally achieved Apprentice Rank 1, though he was mostly looking for trouble as opposed to fresh game.
His Stealth reached Apprentice Rank 2 as well, with all his darting carefully and quietly through the undergrowth, disturbing not a leaf, if he could help it. He could only hope the boosted skill was because he was successfully slipping past predators, and that he wasn't in imminent danger of having his throat torn out by an unexpected ambush.
Though he made much better time once he found the road, he found himself strangely wary of the few travelers galloping on horseback or leading wagons, ducking behind cover whenever he came across them, spending mornings practicing his arcane skills once more, most especially his Stone Shot, but only after placing Lituus runes by the forest's edge, and only so long as no one was around to observe him, rare as that was.
And every night he spent in the treetops, just as he had before, further protected by runes of chalk at the very least. Because even if every other traveler seemed relaxed and carefree, Jack had no interest in waking up dead, no matter how slim the odds.
It was a pattern of travel he had every intention of continuing, no matter the friendly nods exchanged with fellow travelers of the road, rare as they still were, politely laughing off their offers to share camp together. He kept his smile polite, but between the wolves on two legs and four he had encountered since his journey began, he knew he wouldn't get a lick of rest if any stranger was nearby. Yet despite the delays of inscribing sigils and securing himself in the most comfortable tree bowers he could find every night, and spell practice every morning, he still found himsel making decent progress on his journey as he headed towards the city of Greyspeak, eager to embrace whatever adventures it had in store for him, and, yes, equally eager to sleep in comfortable quarters without the visions of massive yellow-eyed wolves or vicious slavers eager to rip out his throat haunting his dreams.
And he would have been content to continue on towards the city just as he had for the past couple of days, enjoying walking along the road, for all that it cut directly through the forest, had it not been for the screams he heard coming from just beyond the natural bend, the road forced to weave around the giant protrusion of stone from cliff face just ahead.