Today was the day. Amog was ready. He stood at the treeline, preparing his troops to attack the glade.
The half ogre was king amongst his men and women even though he didn’t dress like a king, yet. He stood over eight feet tall and wore a mismatched set of armors and clothes, thin black hair spilled from his head and ridged features defined his face.
He led many people, good fodder for his rise, and rise he would, because ultimately there was no other reason for him to be here. Fate was on his side.
His build was coming along nicely, maximizing the benefits of his unique gifts. At level 14 he knew he was stronger than his level indicated, he knew he was strong when compared to others, even if they had far more skill levels than him.
That ambiguity of power was part of the reason he didn’t really care about the results of his analyze skill. It also took way too long to train, kinda stupid really.
Levels could only help you so much and Amog had already defeated an evolved person. A village chieftain that fell to simple numbers in a well planned ambush. Amog wasn’t the fastest but with a trap your prey comes to you, he may have lost a great number of men but he’d been learning then.
But this village was not something that would come to him, he infact had chased them here. The people of the Alita village had fled with these other assholes and really delayed his start. Those people had been meant for him, he knew that. Now, with more numbers they would be even tougher to break.
It hadn’t been especially hard to find them but it just took time for the troops to return and learn of what happened. His guards dead and the village abandoned, a trail so visible it would be impossible to hide.
Now they hide behind brittle palisade and a simple ditch. He admired their defiance and desired to conquer them even more. They would form the core industry of his empire, just like his bandits would eventually become a military. A shogunate.
The skirmishes were simple and minor, a learning experience. The last attempted capture had been a fine balance, pushing in and trying to limit casualties while also dealing enough damage to take the settlement. It would have been easier except Amog didn’t want to eliminate these people he wanted to control them.
It would have been possible except for this new leader. His analyze skill Identified her as Alison Lamora, level 14, a half-elf. Experience had taught him she was someone he had to watch out for, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill and made quick work of his bandits with her magical greatsword.
It didn’t matter though. His luck had brought him exactly what he needed to defeat her.
The village knew he was coming, he preferred it when they knew what he was about to do.
Amog spoke the local tongue poorly, he didn’t know much Zleenish but he knew enough to get his point across, gestures and violence would bring the gap otherwise.
He turned to his second in command. A man he had broken in his early days here. He was human and had a solid build. He wore black leathers with a tattered blue shirt. A pair of short blades hung at his hips.
“Oppo ready bandits,” Amog grunted out.
Oppo nodded. “Yes Boss.”
The bandits waited behind Amog and Oppo waded into them, organizing them into a rough marching column.
Nancy, another human murmured her thoughts. “There will be no-” then something Amog didn’t understand but it didn’t matter really. Nancy was hot. She could also do magic which was pretty cool. But, man was she hot.
When Oppo returned to stand next to him, the troops properly chastised and lined up. Amog strutted back and forth and chanted the zleenish word he knew best.
“KILL, KILL, KILL.”
His bandits joined him in the simplicity of base aggression.
There would be death but hopefully not as much as he was prepared to unleash. No, this time the village would break, or he would grind them away to fuel his growth. Most of his bandits took to fighting like a fish to water, some of them had to be broken before they would serve, but serve they did. The most stubborn had to die of course.
It was good to be king.
Amog moved forward out of the treeline, stepping in time with his chant, and beheld the foundation of his future kingdom, his future empire.
“KILL, KILL, KILL,” they shouted in unison and all broke out in runs when Amog began bounding forward.
His Gift Elevated Barrier: Your Natural Defense increases by 300% made him into a natural off-tank and it was obvious he should lead from the front. His strength had reached 42 points giving him skin like immortal steel and with his half-ogre heritage increasing his power output by an additional 5kgs per point of strength, he found it easy to throw boulders the size of a washing machine while feeling like a suit of armor.
A flash lit up before Amog as an arrow shaft splintered against the golden hardlight shield that sprang up. His Ring of Vital Shield saved him again. Amog was durable, not invincible and he knew that. He juked and broke from left to right, and as the arrows rained down the few that did come were deflected with simple slaps of his hands.
Amog closed with the palisade and jumped with all his might, his 42 points of strength made it an impressive leap but his half ogre body was heavy. His Cloud Boots activated and he jumped on solid air, flying over the top of the palisade and landing next to bow wielding villagers.
He smiled as their faces broke in panic. They knew what he was about to do. He retrieved his Obsidiite Bowstaff and lashed out with the weapon, walloping each in their face with echoing cracks. They went down, alive and still useful.
Then she was there. Alison. A fresh burn mark upon her forearm.
The half aelf was the only one to come close to Amog’s height and it lent itself to a good fight and that was something Amog had learnt about himself. He loved a good fight, more importantly he liked to win.
He had almost got her, but then she had found that damn sword.
Amog wondered if she had the Luck stat too. But no, she was just some stupid noble.
He heard the sound of his soldiers catching their grappling hooks and laying ladders on the palisade and knew that today was the day. He bellowed his warcry of “Kill!” and sprinted towards his current obstacle.
They crossed weapons. The staff more than durable enough to block her blows, his strength greater than hers. His transcendent rank class Powerhouse offered some perks that gave him small passive bonuses to his physical stats and two actives that could be activated at the cost of stamina to greatly increase his power.
Yet Alison was a class holder too and she had been clearly trained in use of the greatsword. His empowered blows were easily deflected by her and not even with the use of one of her maneuvers. Her skill level in greatswords must be in the 50’s to be so skillful.
Skill levels were one thing that Amog had been neglecting and it showed in their fights as Alison managed to land many blows while Amog struggled to land one, it wasn’t serious. What was serious was her weapon. Her old greatsword couldn’t even scratch him, but this new one was able to draw blood, it was more dangerous than it seemed as even the slightest cut had a high chance of inflicting a stacking bleed debuff, no matter.
His Sacrificial Tenacity allowed him to trade health for ending or downgrading conditions and he used it every time it came off cooldown, it was the most significant loss of HP in their exchanges but the stacked bleeding would have done more.
He was waiting for the fire strikes, she always saved them for when she was pushed back. His natural defense protected him from physical damage but his constitution protected him from the cold and fire and his external resistance did not benefit from his gift. He was vulnerable to those fire strikes and it was the reason he had fallen back from the last battle.
He just had to push her. His swings became more and more brutal and he allowed more and more openings, willing to trade damage for battle tempo.
Alison grinned as she swung and arced her greatsword, intercepting every single counter strike and dancing away when Amog reached for a grapple.
Still he pressed and forced her to use her Deflect maneuver, he knew then the fire strike was coming and left his face open.
Alison took it and he smiled.
Her grin broke as she saw his confident grin. She knew he was about to do something, he liked it when they knew.
But she had to commit to the swing and at the last moment, just before the greatsword slashed across Amog's face he breathed.
Winter’s Breath
The sword struck and an explosion of fire blazed but for a moment as it was drowned out by the ice breath that erupted from Amog’s mouth, it flooded forward and smothered the fire, covering Alison in restricting icicles.
She shuffled back and tried to ward him away with fending slashes but her movement was impeded and he found it far easier to close with her.
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Two halflings came to her aid, the younger female proving useless and the older male giving him slight trouble. They could not stand against his pure physical might despite how agile and nimble they might be. They too were rendered unconscious by his staff that hummed as he struck with it. Sending them tumbling away.
He turned and advanced on Alison, in this her moment of weakness.
Another arrow blistered at him and collided with a golden shell, the second charge of his ring expended, one more remained.
He glanced to see the orcish bow wielder become engaged with Oppo who came from behind with shortswords drawn.
Amog reached the woman and he took a Precise Strike to the chest, the wound was terrible but he would survive. Again, he breathed as the strike landed home and his ice cut through her fire.
It was fate.
He activated Sacrificial Vitality to drop the burned and bleeding conditions and lifted his quarterstaff high above his head. He activated both of his perk maneuvers and his strength shot up to 50.
Alison cringed as she tried to move but ice gripped her form. Amog brought it down in a whistling crack on Alison’s shoulder and grinned as he heard something inside her crack.
Alison grunted and collapsed to one knee and Amog arced a left hook into her face, knocking her down completely. A swift kick to the head one or two times and she was incapacitated.
Amog picked her up by the back of the neck and bellowed in his shitty zleenish. “STOP FIGHT OR I KILLLLLLL!”
The defenders looked to him and like the fearful sheep they were, they hesitated. He repeated his threat and one of the defenders threw down his weapons.
“Spare the Lady Lamora please.” The villager dropped to his knees in supplication. The bandit he’d been fighting kicked him over lower.
Then more and more threw down their weapons.
Amog smiled. Great success.
Alison moaned in her stunned state.
“Good fight,” grunted Amog.
She groaned.
Oppo had already begun confiscating the dropped weapons and gathering the people up. There were few buildings in this village and it was easy to empty them and corral the entire population of the village.
It was time to explain the change in management.
When they were gathered Amog stood with Alison and he jerked her up to display her before the crowd who gasped at the sight of their leader being treated such.
He spoke, “I’m Amog. I’m new king. You fight, you die. You run, you die. You no work, you die.”
The crowd was silent, no one dared say anything.
Amog nodded and reached over to Alison, and ripped off her face. It wasn’t a slow thing, he ripped that scab off in an instant, it was just as satisfying too.
Someone in the crowd screamed as they all stepped back at once.
Alison howled a throaty cry as she had no lips. Amog let it ring out for all to hear, he let it sink into their bones.
Fear was an effective motivator. Fear of god or man, it didn’t matter. Fear would guide a person to do what was desired far better than greed or desire. Fear was the only true guide within oneself. It's why the law and prison existed.
He would rule through fear. He silenced Alison’s wails with a flex of his hand and a snap of her neck.
She fell limp, feet swaying, and Amog smiled at the level up prompt. He tossed her body to the side and reiterated his words. “You fight, you die.”
Still a villager roared and rushed the stage. Amog glared a lazy analyze at the man.
Min Alian
Human
Level 1
Amog sneered and gestured for his bandits to not intercede, he could pop a level one’s head like a ripe pimple.
This Min battered at Amog and the half ogre laughed as the tiny man bruised his own hands upon Amog’s flesh.
A gentle backhand sent the man to his knees and Amog gripped his head, about to crush it before Oppo cleared his throat.
Amog regarded his second in command with a raised eyebrow, the question clear.
Oppo pointed at the man and said, “bread maker.”
Well fuck, Amog loved bread and he’d been missing it ever since he came here.
Can’t believe I almost killed the baker.
Instead Amog reached down and picked Min up by the ankle and chopped his leg off with a few strikes from the flat of his hand. The dull crunches leading to tearing of the flesh, not that anyone could hear over Min’s screams. He could still bake with a peg leg, and it would be a good reminder to the villagers. One of the bandits came to take care of the baker, packing the stringy wound with a herbal poultice.
Amog smiled at the pale faces in the crowd and shrugged. “Bread good.”
***
Charles’ stomach went cold as Amog ripped Alison’s face off.
By Kynairos.
He seethed at his weakness, he should be strong enough to protect her as she did them. He raged at his inability, if only he’d been stronger.
Perhaps then he would have been able to defeat the blue clad bandit. When the bandit captain came upon Charles it had been fast and aggressive, tossing his bow and fending with his sword was all Charles could do to stay alive. Not that the bandit seemed overly concerned with killing him.
He pushed back with his blade but unlike most of the horde this bandit knew his business. The movements were precise and intentional, someone who had been trained. He reminded Charles of an academy instructor, even the man’s glazed level gaze seemed to imitate their stare.
He was bored and that was bad for Charles.
A glance at a frozen Alison was all the distraction the man needed. He whipped the flat of his blade against Charles' head and sent him spinning with the Stunned condition.
Soon after that the foolish villagers began to throw down their weapons. They surrendered.
The man had taken his swords, bangles, amulet and bow. An empowered slash dissipated the light golem. He fingered the make of Charles’ coat but let the muldstanni go, it had been a different bandit who had taken his coat.
Charles suppressed the urge to fight back with his paltry unarmed skill and then Amog had done what he did to Alison. There was a small part of him that was surprised at the extreme violence but a more academic part of him acknowledged it was part of imperial doctrine to publicly eliminate the previous leadership in a show of force. It had happened to his people.
He was once again reminded of his goal, Charles had a quest from the world itself, the system as Six called it, one that concerned his people. His heart bled for Alison, her life cut short by this twist of fate but he couldn’t languish in fear and helplessness. That’s what the bandits wanted.
The settlers were kept in the center square of the village and the bandits began to process them. Jebbedo who had been beaten down by Amog was pulled aside and forced to cook, most others were recorded and kept in the center. The bandits were to have a feast to commemorate their victory. The small supply of ale and wine that Alison had had within her ring was immediately broken open to the cheers of the invaders.
Charles spat his disgust on the ground and eyed the dozen or so bandits that had been designated as guards, they drank too, foolish but what could the villagers reasonably do with no weapons? Nothing.
But, He had to do something. He knew the soldiers were going to return one day but who knows when that would happen, the bandits could be too entrenched by then.
His mind wandered to Six and for a moment a spike of spite ran through Charles but he pushed it down. Six owed him nothing, Six owed the village nothing, he had made that clear. Also, what could one man do against so many? No, Six had sought to avoid being part of this, and for good reason, look what happened.
Still, he was the only source of resources and even if he wouldn’t help himself, Charles was confident that Six would at least give him weapons and arms freely.
So he waited until the invaders became drunk and rowdy. He endured the forced fights as the bandits taught the villagers lessons through violence, they laughed and jeered, taking entertainment for their torment. Leoka and her people got the worst of it, public reprimands for killing the previous watchers and escaping.
Charles could see the man who defeated him observe the goings on, he even interceded when some beatings became too much. But it was a cold thing, the glazed look never wavering, the drinking enhancing the glazed effect. They knew that few would brave the night forest without weapons but Charles had nothing to lose at this point, he needed tools and that meant making it to Six.
Sneaking away from the guards was just a matter of waiting for the right moment.
He had gotten past the palisade and made his way into the tree line when a sliding of metal halted his movement.
He turned to the swordsman who wore the tattered blue shirt. He held one sword at the ready. A mirthless smirk came to his lips and he spoke clearly despite having the slanted eyes of a drunk. His sword tip pointed away from the mountain. “Civilization is that way.”
Charles froze. He didn’t know what to say, his training had not yet reached politics and the academy never formally taught such. His tongue failed him.
The man laughed at his hesitance. “Think you’re gonna make it over the mountain to the Kingdom of Harmony? Look at you. You think a herd would accept you?” The man pointed the blade at Charles and spoke in Muldstanii, “My horse charges towards the sun.” He waited and an awkward pause extended between them, an expectant eyebrow rose, Charles knew he was supposed to say something, he just didn’t know what.
The man laughed and returned to zleenish. “There is no place for you in Muldstanii. Stay, Amog will make use of you. It is not so bad.”
Charles said nothing but stood defiant. His eyes searched the ground for rocks to throw and sticks for clubs. It was foolish but he could not give up.
The man saw this and sighed, his shoulders slouched and he took a relaxed posture. He shrugged and sheathed his blade. “You will see, when the herds drive you away you will return. Then what? The empire is dead. You will find yourself here, drawn to the pull of Amog.” He gave Charles a dismissive gesture and turned to walk back towards the village.
Charles breathed a sigh of relief and continued up the mountain.
He moved quickly and soon saw the light of a fire where Six made his camp. The trees thinned and reveal the massive blaze that Six danced around.
He sang some weird song in that strange language he muttered sometimes. The reek of stoneweed reached Charles’ nose and it curled at the stench.
He was dancing. While they fought and died Six danced and hooted.
Charles grimaced as anger began to burn within him. The academy had served to prepare him for leadership. He knew that the ideals of the academy were more image than representative of the actual conduct performed but those ideals were still something that Charles sought to live by.
And by his judgement Six was lacking.
“By Kynairos, what are you DOING Six?”
Six stopped dancing, and turned to look. Charles could see the instant understanding play out in Six’s expression before it assumed a mask of seriousness but the idiot still had to ask. “Charles, what happened?”
There was a moment of silence as Charles couldn’t believe that the question had been uttered. Six knew what happened but he forced Charles to face it, to relive his failure. His loss.
“Alison is dead,” he said, and it felt accusatory, towards himself for being weak, but also towards Six for being so… irresponsible.
“I’m sorry,” Six murmured.
“Are you?”
Six gazed at Charles with no regret. “It is something people say to comfort others.”
Charles scoffed and nodded. “I do not need your comfort, I need you to help me.”
“Help you what?”
“Help them.”
Six sighed and looked off into the night. After a moment he stomped off away from Charles while nodding to himself. He kicked some dirt around while muttering in his strange language. He screamed a gutteral howl of anger into the night.
Six took a breath and let it go, his face tightened into something downcast. He took deep breaths and slowly his face relaxed and an even expression took him.
“What do you hope to accomplish Charles?” Six sounded disinterested, grey like the stone he conjured.
“We kill Amog and remove his bandits.”
“To what end?”
“What do you mean to what end?”
“Exactly that. What then? Do you think another Amog isn’t waiting out there? Do you think it would ever end? I have enough problems on my own. Why do you want this?”
“Because I’m not a Kynairos blasted fool! I’m not selfish! I know that it is the responsibility of those with power to protect those without.”
“You are a child. In an ideal world yes but this is not a fucking thought experiment. You are young and idealistic but even you should know that nothing is free. These people wanted freedom and a different life, they should have been more prepared to fight for it.”
Charles looked aggrieved.
“What are you trying to do Charles?”
“I’m trying to save people, and I need help, from someone I thought was my friend.”
Six closed his eyes and breathed deep, his expression did not falter but Charles could see the welling of a single tear in his eye.
“Aight Charles. I’ll help you. But I feel like you don’t know what you are doing. If I do this it won’t just be for today or tomorrow, why do you think I would be any better than Amog?”
That question delivered in such a monotonous way gave Charles pause, a chill running through him. “I know you Six. You’re strong but you’re not heartless. You don’t want to hurt. We need that now that Alison is gone.”
“You think you know me but you don’t. I can be heartless, and if you want me to do this, to dedicate myself with you to this. Heartless I will be. There can be no heart in such things. I would be like armor, protective, but restrictive. There is an almost uniform inverse relationship between safety and freedom that I don’t think you understand.”
“Don’t be condescending towards me.”
“Do you understand?”
“People can't do whatever they like in the interests of safety.”
“I would be very restrictive. I am tired, Charles, and I don’t want to do this, you are asking me to join you in lifting a heavy burden.”
Charles found Six’s obstinacy infuriating. “It is my duty!”
“Fight with Amog then. It would be much the same.”
Charles spat. “He is evil.”
Six nodded. “I would assume that key leaders within the old empire could have been labeled as such as well. Yea?”
That gave Charles pause, he nodded reluctantly.
“What if I did something you regarded as evil?”
“I would fight you.”
“And yet you still wish for my help now?”
“Yes! Yes of course Six!”
Six nodded. “K, So… Spicy cheese. What's the situation down there?”
They spoke for almost an hour before Six devised a plan and Charles had to admit it was their best option. Six looked tired and gaunt but waved away the concern Charles expressed. They were to strike in the morning and there was much preparation to perform before they would be ready.
Charles followed Six off into the darkness of the forest.