The pair moved down to the tailend of the caravant where they found Ingrid. She was running her hands trough the fur of a skittish Tarla. The poor animal was clearly shook by all that happened and Saga could see the pain in Ingrids eyes as she she spoke soothingly to the animal. She looked up at the two as they came walking over.
“Will she be alright?” Saga asked as they crouched down, looking as nonthretening as the possibly could, they held out their hand gently towards the skittish animal. Tarla looked with those big black eyes to Ingrid, as if asking their rider if Saga was safe. The action made the berserker feel a little pang of empathic pain as they waited. After a while, Tarla pressed its wet, massive nuzzle up against Saga's hand. “Hey there girl. It’s ok” They said, their voice soft as can be. They had never been a horse-person and they had very little experience with something like a reindeer. But they always liked animals, and they knew how to act around skittish ones. Tarla visibly relaxed and Ingrid let out a soft sigh of relief.
“All things considered, she is dealing with it better than I could hope. She’s a herd animal and her instincts to run are quite strong. But she is a brave girl, my Tarla is. I will hate to not have her with me on future trips, but at least I can always visit the farm.” Ingrid said, running a hand affectionately against the large neck of the animal. Saga continued to run her hand along its snout as Sasha bent over at the waist, looming over the three.
“Saga hit level 4.” She said and Ingrid's eyes lit up, animal related sorrow slightly dampened as the prospect of Saga already hitting level four.
“Two levels in on battle?” She said as she looked to Saga who simply shrugged and let Ingrid inspect their new abilities and attributes. Ingrid began to immidetly read it over with a critical eye.
“Twenty Brawn. I think you can work on mental exercises for level 5. You are not dependent on Mind, but you do not want to be too thick headed later on.” Ingrid said as she kept petting trough Tarlas fur affectionately. It was clear to Saga that that the dwarven woman enjoyed the process of figuring out and helping others with their Paths. IT seemed that she and Olaf had that very much in common and the more they learned of those two the more obvious a match they seemed.
“Your abilities are quite something. It's like everything so far is geared towards simply keeping you alive when you inevitably get targeted by big bursts of damage or swamped with enemies. I thought you’d be a pure endurance fighter. But you seem to already be heading towards a Sole Survival type of fighter.”
”Burst Negation Fighter?”
“Yes. It’s a term we use for those who aren’t exactly front like tanks, but whos abilities is geared towards surviving and soaking up a whole lot of burst and damage all at once. Against sustained damage, such as poisons and corruption spells, you are gonna struggle. They will be getting stronger and deal increasing damage the longer the fight goes. It directly levels the playing field in regards to your advantage of getting stronger as the fight goes on. Especially if you hit your rage where you can just die to their damage while being too pissed off to realize it.”
“I see.” Saga said as they had the same thought a little earlier. They seem be taking big hits and getting back up to the shock of their attacker. They had yet to face someone with more insidious and slow build of damage.
“ Due to the damage and the overwhelming strength of your opponents so far, you are built to withstand big burst of damage and tear into them as they recover or line up their second and third volleys. ” Ingrid continued, still looking the sheet up and down. " You're the opposite of our Jarl, who is all about being a whirlwind of battle, soaking up damage and restoring himself at a steady clip. You have to really try to get him to the point where the berserker rage kicks off. And then when it does you have to put your all into withstand it and put him down before it is to late.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“And me?” Saga asked, having an idea now but wanting confirmation.
“You force them to focus on you and when they do, you blast trough their big bursts of damage and expensive abilities with that berserker rage.” Sasha said.
“If the Jarl is a whirling axe. You are the tip of a spear. The jarl is the kind of man to wreak havoc and steadily fight through hordes of his enemies. But you my friend. You are the thing that comes barreling through shield walls and spellbarrages. If I were to see you come barreling towards my shieldwall, I’d beg to every god in existence for mercy.” Ingrid spoke with a grin.
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After sitting down and keeping Ingrid and Yara company for a little while, where they mostly talked about anything but the battle, including Ingrid not subtly needling them about their new closeness to one another, Sasha and Saga set off towards their wagon. It was time for the caravan to move again and everyone was antsy to get going. The rear wagon had been half destroyed by the thunder mage, so what had been left had been cannibalized to fixe the other, more superficially damaged wagons. Some of the leftover wood had been made into a hastily made coffin in which they put the dead guard, who's name had been Rolf. They placed his coffin in the provision wagon that they emptied and redistributed among the caravan. Luckily, the cold weather would keep the body from going bad and rot as at night there was near freezing temperatures.
The half-giant guard sat quiet by the dead guard's side, her mount also dead. Nobody asked her to take shifts guarding, as the woman seemed very down and distracted by what had happened. Her name was Hildir, and she looked at the ground as Saga approached, hopping from wagon to wagon. Her eyes were still red from crying over her friends death and Saga imminently felt a pang of sympathy.
"Hildir, yes?" Saga asked, sitting down next to the woman.
"Aye. Hildir Wishstone." She spoke, her voice heavy with grief. "I saw you fight, Berserker. I'd be dead without you there. If you and your lady friend and that mercenary had not dealt with the archers so swiftly, I would not have been able to deal with the ones I fought. IT was a close thing, even then.
"I am glad you made it. And I am sorry I could not save your friend."
"I appreciate it. But you did help avenge him." She said, wringing her hand as she kept staring at the ground. "I know his parents. They will be devastated." She said softly. "I don't know how to face them." Hildirs voice shook. The woman was massive, with arms that was the size of Sagas head. But she looked so small, sitting there.
"Losing someone is hard. Family is the hardest." Saga said. "But if his parents are good folks, they will not hold it against you. They will see your grief, and they will understand that you lost someone as well." They said, thinking of the time they had Tim come tell them about their mother. Tim had worked at the hospital where their mother had spent their last moments. And had personally taken it upon himself to give them the bad news.
"You have a good heart, Berserker." Hildir said softly. "I can tell. And his parent are hardworking, good people. You are right in that they would not blame me. But I blame myself. We were comrades, we were supposed to protect each other."
"You were doing what you had to do. You saved a lot of lives and barely survived. We do not get to chose who pays the price sometimes." Saga said and Hildir looked at them then. There was tears in the corner of the Berserkers eyes. And they looked just as sad as Hildir had been feeling up until now. Hildir remembered hearing that this person was new to her world. That they never been in a real person to person battle before. Yet here they sat, putting on a brave face for a total stranger, trying to help them. The guard looked at Saga and smiled. It was a sad, but genuine smile that let Saga relax a little bit.
"Thank you, Berserker. You have given me a sense of perspective I was sorely lacking in my grief." She said and looked to the coffin that lay before them fastened to the wagon floor. It was a crude thing, made hastily out of partly burn wood and repurposed nails. But it would hold.
"My name is Saga." They said softly as they rose from their seat before shaking Hildirs arm. "If you ever need anything that I can provide, ask." They said, and Hildir knew they meant it. She had no idea who this person was, but it was clear they were good people. With that Saga left before their own tears could start to roll down their cheeks. As they hopped over to where Sasha were they sat down and leaned their head against the woman who wiped a stray tear from Sagas cheek without saying a word.
"I want to get stronger." Saga mumbled.