Atop a hill overlooking a forest that stretched in every direction as far as the eye could see, Moka slipped into the circle of trees. She stuck to the shadows like she was hunting game.
Inside the circle was a quiet glade, brought to life by a twirling breeze. The sounds of the forest faded away. Beams of sunlight trickled through the dancing leaves, casting shadows like moving stain glass on a soft bed of grass. The shadows danced with the breeze, twining around the swaying stalks of grass.
With her staff in hand, Moka circled toward the figure on the far side of the circle. She hesitated as she got closer, biting her lip and looking around like she expected Azarus to speak in her ear again. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she focused on the figure, her grip tightening. Malice and caution warred across her features.
The figure’s blue and green silk skirts draped across the grass in flowing cascades. Her hair was like autumn, boasting rich tones of orange, red, and yellow, all woven together. She wore a vine, covered in softly glowing blue flowers, wrapped around her neck like a scarf. Fallen petals surrounded her, devoid of light.
She looked up as Moka stalked into the light, casting a long shadow. Her breath caught as she spotted Moka’s [Elven Heartwood Breastplate] through tear-filled eyes. She let out a bitter laugh.
“A [Ranger]? Come to collect me?”
Moka snarled at the woman, unamused. Her sharp teeth caught the light, drawing attention to her species. The woman gasped, scooting back on her hands. Azarus’s champion took an aggressive step toward her before catching herself. Her fist tightened around her staff. She spoke to the woman through a clenched jaw.
“I am no [Ranger] and I only collect valuable things.”
The woman’s eyes widened even further. Her mind took a moment to parse what was said, and who was saying it. When it did, she gasped. She touched her hair, spluttering.
“Not value-! How dare-!” Pausing to catch her thoughts, the woman narrowed her eyes at Moka, jabbing a finger in her direction. Her energy ramped up as she spoke until she was all but shouting. “You goblins have been after me all week! Not valuable? Then why are you torturing me?! Just take your spoils and go!”
Moka spat to the side, eying the woman, who bore a remarkable resemblance to a human, with visible disgust. She met her gaze, matching the woman’s anger with the rage simmering in her heart. It radiated off her like heat. With a tight, jerky shrug, she responded to the woman’s accusations.
“Wasn’t me. I just got here. I want nothing to do with humans.” With a sniff, Moka jerked a thumb at one of the colossal trees around them. “I trust you people as far as I could throw one of these trees. What did you do to deserve this?”
The woman tugged at the flower scarf on her neck, craning her neck like it was obstructing her breathing. She glared at the goblin, her brows narrowed and mouth open. Her upper lip crept upward, revealing pearly white teeth and sharp fangs.
Azarus and Zag looked at a nearby vine hanging from a tree with a small stool toppled over under it. The god and his hound shared a glance. Sap welled from the broken end of the flower covered vine. Azarus looked at the woman through [Divine Insight].
Carwen Vinesong
Archetype - [Peasant]
Class - [Village Beauty]
Bloodline - [Faeborn Elf]
Trait: [Fae Enchantment]
Gifts:
Natural - Moderate Knack, Reason, and Spirit
Class - Minor Charm, Luck, and Empathy
Skills:
[Read the Room]
[Heartfelt Plea]
Spells:
[Summon: Minor Spirit]
Azarus hummed to himself as he read through Carwen’s status. He did not think the [Peasant] Archetype suited her. Her gifts and Skills read like she was a minor noble or aspiring [Lady], focusing on social manipulation as a survival tactic. He supposed it made sense for a [Village Beauty]. Her Spell fit that theme as well, bringing in an extra set of hands to aide her.
What interested Azarus most was her Bloodline. It was already unlocked, and he suspected it was the reason she had three natural Moderate gifts. He wondered how the [Follower] mechanic would interact with an unlocked Bloodline. Would it restrict him from effecting it because he had not purchased the Unlock?
[Faeborn Elf]: [Faeborn Elves] are genetic anomalies resulting from parents with distant Fae heritage giving birth to a pureblooded [Elf]. They are born with an unlocked Bloodline and high evolution potential. Grants: enhanced gifts, Trait: [Fae Enchantment], and Spell: [Summon: Minor Spirit].
[Fae Enchantment]: Magnifies the emotions of those who see the beauty of the Fair Folk.
Azarus read [Fae Enchantment’s] description and let out a slow breath. That was a double-edged sword if he had ever seen one. Carwen rose to her feet, brushing off her skirts with an indignant air. Azarus inspected her features. Mortal attractiveness was not something he concerned himself with. However, according to [Divine Insight], it was central to who Carwen was as a person.
The first thing he noticed was her hair, or lack thereof. Her autumn colored mane, wavy with slight curls at the end, was akin to a dryad’s, made of leaves. She had eyes like red sunsets over purple oceans. Tear tracks marred her cheeks. They added a depth to her beauty, casting her as something innocent to be protected. Whether that was true, Azarus was waiting to see.
Her face was more angular and striking than a human’s. It reminded Azarus of the difference between a dog and a wolf. At nearly six feet tall, she stood head and shoulders over Moka. Despite the height difference, watching the two glare at each other was like seeing a wolverine face off against a faun.
Moka gripped her staff in both hands, the claw-like end leveled at Carwen. Her lips curled into a snarl. She swayed from side to side, shifting her weight in preparation. Despite her fidgeting, Moka let Carwen regain her footing without contest. Azarus could practically see his champion negotiating with her anger, urging it to wait for justification. She leaned forward as Carwen spoke, ready to spring at the right infraction.
Azarus hoped his words to her, spoken minutes ago, were fresh in her mind.
The god tapped the wooden end of a paintbrush against his lips. He was fairly certain Moka had heard him. She had reacted after he had spoken, and was clearly holding back despite mistaking Carwen for a human. Azarus considered speaking to her again, to urge her to ease her anger toward humans or recruit the elf. He was eager to see [Followers] in action and equally eager for Moka to move beyond her hatred. It helped that Carwen had an interesting skill set. She could shore up Moka’s social strategy of being stubborn and indignant.
Azarus dismissed the idea of whispering Moka instructions. This was a test. It did not truly matter if she was mistaking the elf for a human or not. She needed to manage that part of herself. It was her responsibility. He could only hope that [Memories of a Past Life] and her experiences had given her some perspective.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Carwen wrangled the scarf off her neck. She rubbed the angry red mark around her neck, wincing. Scowling at Moka, she stared down her nose at the goblin.
“Trust a goblin to mistake an elf for a human. May as well ask a troll to do a tea ceremony.”
Moka scowled at the elf, her eyebrows shooting up, then back down, with the verbal jab. She snapped back, making a slight jabbing motion with her staff. Her voice containing a growling undercurrent.
“Do you not understand your situation?” She sneered at the elf, egging her on with disrespect so thick it dripped off her tongue. “Dumb, like a human.”
Again, the elf looked surprised at Moka’s avert hostility. The shock lasted for a split second. Carwen straightened her spine, lifting herself up to her full height. She wound the flower coated vine around her fist, choosing her words with care.
“Dumb is not an accusation I hear often. I am sure many think it, hiding it behind their smiles as they laugh at the silly girl born to be traded away. But not to my face, never to my face.” Carwen matched Moka’s gaze with equal intensity, her cherry red lips pursed. She held herself like a [Lady], except a touch too rigid. “I understand my situation all too well. I am a rare beauty, to be prized. Bought and sold so our lofty ancestors will pay attention to a village of outcasts. Now, your chieftain wants to add me to their collection, a lucky find by a passing raiding party.”
Carwen’s eyes locked onto the [Ironthorn Staff]. She raised her vine covered fist like she was readying to defend herself. Azarus sensed no motion to activate [Summon: Minor Spirit] or [Heartfelt Plea]. She continued her tirade, taking a threatening step toward Moka.
“And so, I thought to take my fate into my own hands. I even peddled altruistic ideals to myself like a child, thinking you people would leave the village alone once I am gone.” She shook the flowers in her fist at Moka, her features contorting in anger. “But the forest itself stymied my attempt, then delivered me to you. I will not live like a pawn! Take me, if you can. I will not go quietly.”
Carwen settled into an objectively poor fighting stance. Her jaw hardened into a line as she took the measure of her opponent. She had gaps in her defense big enough to ride a chariot through.
Moka absorbed Carwen’s rant with a blank face. They stood there in silence, the seconds ticking by. Carwen fidgeted as she waited for the goblin to make the first move, her mask of bravery slowly cracking as the adrenaline faded and her situation sank in. Her fidgeting eyes hardened and jaw set, even as her hands trembled.
Azarus suspected the [Village Beauty’s] poor defenses were at least partially intentional. She thrust her chest out as Moka opened her mouth to respond. Either a hollow display of confidence, or a well-presented target.
At his place by his god’s side, Zag wagged his tail as he watched the two bicker. He nudged Azarus’s hand, pushing forward a gold coin when the god looked at him. Azarus raised an eyebrow. Zag looked meaningfully at their list of bets, specifically where it said murder. Azarus rolled his eyes, pointing at ‘recruit a follower.’ Moka had already engaged the woman in conversation. Murder was not likely.
Zag spoke in protest, not with words, but like a mundane hound. It was somewhere between a yip, a howl, and a whine. In the mirror, Moka’s ears twitched. Azarus side-eyed his companion when he saw her reaction, but let it be. He trusted the hound. Zagrus was an aspect of him.
Her mouth twisting in distaste, Moka set the butt of her staff on the ground. She leaned against it, crossing her legs at the ankles. She spoke to Carwen, slowly, with clear enunciation, like she was speaking to a willful child who was purposefully misunderstanding.
“My god sent me here. I do not know you or what you are talking about.”
Carwen’s brow furrowed, her jaw half dropping. She looked at Moka like she had found a strange bug. Her demeanor shifted. Standing out of her half-hearted fighting stance, she jabbed a finger at the dismissive goblin.
“You would think a creature known for their cunning would be a better liar.”
Moka sniffed at Carwen, deliberate disdain dripping from her every action. She idly examined her claws, poking out from under her gauntlet’s wooden fingertips. Azarus did not believe she was as relaxed as she appeared. She kept her ears trained on the [Faeborn Elf], listening for any sudden moves.
Sparing Carwen a hooded glance, Moka looked down her nose at the taller woman despite the height difference. It was less impressive than when she did the same to Granon.
“My god sent me to find the hopeless. I don’t have time to waste on the pathetic.”
Azarus chuckled as a myriad of emotions passed through Carwen’s sunset eyes. It was clear she was not used to being spoken to like that. Moka hid a smirk as she saw the barb land. The beautiful elf spluttered, struggling to find the words to defend herself. When she looked about to speak, Moka interrupted her. She looked meaningfully at the flower covered vine wrapped around her fist, recognizing the shape of a noose despite the obscuring foliage.
“To think a nigh immortal elf would kill themselves because they were too pretty.” Moka’s tone was filled with so much sarcasm, Azarus wondered if it should be listed among her gifts. “Too hard to cut your hair or scar your face? Better to die a beauty than live like everyone else.”
Carwen’s shock morphed, her fine features twisting in anger. She clenched her fists hard enough to turn her knuckles white, her trembling taking on a different meaning. Forcing words through pearly white teeth, she refuted Moka’s mockery.
“Trust a goblin to spout refuse. What do you know of my life and what I’ve been through? Do you know what it is like to be a bargaining chip? Everyone thinks they own me. Even my own village.” Her ranting picked up speed. “Touching, they’re always touching! My hair, my clothes. I haven’t known a moment of peace since I was born, always being followed around by some lovesick idiot who doesn’t understand me. Do you know what I had to do to get out here? Do you-”
Moka flicked a berry-like petal at the tirading elf. It struck Carwen in the face with a solid thunk before it broke, staining her features. She broke off mid sentence. The goblin spat at her feet. Reaching up to run a claw across her jawline, Moka met the elf’s sunset eyes with her ruby ones.
“With arrogance like yours, it’s no surprise your life has been shit.”
Confusion filtered across Carwen’s face, visibly blooming into understanding after a heartbeat. She gave Moka a weak smile.
“Yes, you are beautiful for a goblin, almost elf-like. But-”
Moka mimed throwing another berry, causing Carwen to cut herself off as she flinched back from the imaginary projectile. Straightening up from where she was leaning against her staff, Moka brushed dust and loose dirt off her clothes. She gave Carwen a measuring glance, then turned to leave, throwing a parting jab over her shoulder.
“Good luck. I hope the next attempt goes better.”
Carwen took a step to follow her before catching herself. She yelled at the departing goblin’s back.
“Where do you think you’re going?!”
Moka did not bother turning around, continuing toward where she had entered the grove. She called back, her voice loud and clear in the quiet space.
“To complete the task my god set before me.”
The [Village Beauty] glanced behind herself at the toppled stool. She touched her neck, then looked at Moka’s departing figure. After a heartbeat, she nodded to herself, taking several quick steps after her.
“Which is?”
Moka paused as she heard the woman approach, turning her head to skewer her with a glare. Her reply was curt and unfriendly.
“To find the hopeless and change their fate.”
The goblin did not turn to leave immediately, sensing she had to have this conversation before the elf would leave her be. Carwen took a few small, cautious steps closer.
“Your god thinks the goblin warlord-” The elf took a breath, moderating her tone to be less accusatory. “Is hopeless?”
Moka snarled at the elf, dislike clear on her features. Still, she corrected her interpretation, garnering a smile from Azarus.
“He never specified goblins.”
Some of the tension bled out of Carwen. She smiled at Moka, soft and charming.
“Oh. Well, who is your god and what is he the god of?”
Moka did not answer. She turned to leave the glade and venture back into the forest. Carwen took a few steps after her, causing the [Explosives Expert] to whirl.
“Why are you following me?”
Carwen glanced around, as if seeing if there was anyone else in the area. She held up her empty hands, showing her lack of weapons.
“I’m coming with you.”
Moka’s response came hard and fast, piercing through the quiet glade before Carwen’s last syllable faded.
“No, you’re not.” Her mouth was moving with a reason before her mind could catch up. “You don’t know where I’m going.”
Carwen folded her arms, suppressing a smile as she arched an eyebrow at the goblin. She jabbed a smug finger at Moka’s chest.
“No, you don’t know where you’re going. You said you just got here.”
“So?”
“So, you have no idea what is happening in the area or who fits your god’s criteria.”
Azarus watched as his champion floundered. She was not prepared to go from holding herself back from violence, to fending off a tagalong. Shaking her head, she turned to denial to cope.
“You’re wrong.”
Carwen smiled like she had just won a beauty pageant; brilliant, open, and free. Her purple and red eyes shone, her tear-stained cheeks all but forgotten.
“No, I am not.” The [Faeborn Elf] stepped forward, drawing shoulder to shoulder with Moka. She winked at the shorter woman. “Even if you’re a goblin, I always know which way the wind is blowing. Regardless, I do not wish to go back to my village, and you are clearly on your way to get into trouble.”
Moka shook her head, sticking to her plan of denial. She cast about, as if she could find a direction to lose the elf in.
“You can’t come.”
Azarus watched Carwen shrug, her smile fading into a smirk. Moka scowled at her and made to leave. Carwen followed her, her longer legs keeping pace with ease. Moka growled at her, jabbing in her direction with her staff. Carwen ignored her.
As the pair left the glade and headed toward the upper forest, changing directions several times as Moka tested Carwen’s resolve, Azarus allowed himself to relax. He scratched Zag behind the ears, not asking for his gold coin just yet. Carwen was no Granon or Tevzaga, but he was curious what effect she would have on Moka. He could not deny that he wanted to recruit her as a [Follower].
Ethereal gray flames leaked out of Azarus’s eyes. His mind shifted to Moka’s Luck. It was quite fortunate she met a potential recruit with an unlocked Bloodline, just as he was considering purchasing the feature. He idly scratched his stubble, thinking of traps and bait.