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The woods of the river delta were densely populated with creatures of all kinds. The recent glut of heavily armored columns marching down the roads had sent many creatures further into the brush, fleeing the din and bustle of humans.
Two level thirty-something dire-hairs had netted Caelus 100 experience each. No small sum, but their corpses remained. Festering.
Dire-beasts were generally not consecrated. Still, that thing left its mark on Calaf’s psyche. He pulled up the system’s Interface for both rabbits and ensured they were picked clean of items. There was little in the way of a corpse of either rabbit left to decay, at that point. And the resulting bounty…
Dire-Hare’s Pelt
(x2)
Dire-Rabbit’s Tooth
(x6)
Lucky Foot of the Dire-Rabbit
(x1)
Dire-Bones
(x16)
It could be crafted or traded back in town. Anything to avoid leaving a full corpse to fester.
Delta plant growth was fertile, green, unlike the decaying vines that had plagued Calaf’s psyche for the past half a day or so. Even so, it liked to hang down in thick, clumpy vines, constantly giving the impression that it was going to close in and ensnare his head and wrap around his neck at a moment’s notice. Calaf shook his head, refocused, and continued onward.
He was one good-sized fight away from level forty. But the dire-gators of the swamp were not biting at the one point in time when Calaf wanted them to.
A diminutive dire-fox crossed Calaf’s path…
Name:
Dire-Fox
Rank:
Beast
Level
21
Status:
17/17 (Small, Helpless)
Calaf raised his spear as the tiny thing gazed at him, curious. A single simple attack would end the creature, which was well under-leveled for the Delta. But it would leave him just a bit short of the next level, providing only a pittance of experience.
Sighing, Calaf lowered his spear. It wasn’t worth it.
With a yip, the dire-fox jumped about three times, then retreated into the forest a ways. It yipped again, then took some steps back into view.
“Hmm?” Calaf stashed his spear behind his back and followed.
Again, the dire-fox ran further into the forest, and again it stopped to ensure the Stalwart was following. Calaf followed and followed again, continuing well into the deeper parts of the forest, where the swampy environs made traversal increasingly difficult.
The canopy grew thicker, as did the tree coverage on the forest floor. In time, the dire-fox reached a dead end where many thick, old-growth trees twisted together into a wall of trunks and roots. Rather than flee up or around a tree, the creature merely circled in place thrice, chasing its tail.
Calaf stood back and observed. The dire-fox brushed its tail, rubbed its paw with its snout, then clicked its chops. Then, the creature lit up into a bonfire of its own. So bright was the conflagration that Calaf covered his eyes. There was certainly nothing he could do to reach into the fire and pluck the poor thing out on such short notice.
The fire grew three times the size of the creature, retaining a visibly vulpine silhouette. A wide tail in the creature’s back split into two separate jets of flame. Then three, then each of those split off, and a few split off again. Until in the end, as the fire subsided, an entirely new creature stood before Calaf:
Name:
Dire-Fire Fox
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Rank:
Legendary Beast, Miraculous.
Level
96
Status:
17000/17000 (Mighty, Majestic)
Calaf took a step back. He hadn’t seen a creature so powerful before in his life. Nobody did. Why, to be north of level ninety-five was a feat of experience gathering some lifetimes in the making. Even the Demon King of Olde maxed out at level ninety-eight.
With a vulpine howl, the creature summoned forth a smaller, standard dire-fox of level thirty or so. In that fox’s mouth was a smaller prey.
Name:
Lamed Dire-Pigeon
Rank:
Beast.
Level
42
Status:
6/80 (Dying of Old-Age)
“You want me to slay it?” Calaf asked.
No response from either fox. The lesser dire-creature merely sat the prey down and gave it a nudge. So far along was the poor bird that it barely even reacted.
Calaf brought forth his spear and gave the creature a gentle stab to the vitals. A paltry hit for seven HP dropped the dying creature’s hit points to minus-one. The creature had been put out of its misery.
An act of mercy.
Items Obtained:
- Bird’s Egg (Broken) (x1)
- Bird’s Feather (x2)
- Gold x 100
- Experience: 350xp
As they were at level parity, the experience rewarded was adequate, even excessive, despite being such easy prey. Calaf felt a sudden surge of power, a second wind, by now quite familiar to him.
Level up!
Calaf Leveled Up! Level 40
Strength: 43 (+1)
Endurance: 61 (+1)
Agility: 28
Intelligence: 25
Charisma: 21
Arcane: 9 (+1)
Luck: 33 (+2)
Yep, there were those mid-level stat doldrums. It was known to happen when you get to a certain stage. Those extra Arcane and Luck points were nice, but also a complete fluke that could not be expected to happen again. The default hero’s journey from here on out was slow, with long times between levels and incremental increases even to core stats.
The lesser fox took the slain bird and ran off. A good meal was an adequate tip, all things considered.
“Thank you.” Calaf bowed to the majestic beast.
The fox let out… whatever kind of sounds a dire-fire fox made. Then, it disappeared in a flame tornado, leaving scarcely any trace it was ever there.
And there, in place of the wall of trees, was a wide-open glen amidst a group of high-and-dry wharves just sitting out on dry land…
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It was common knowledge that the individual branches and fingers of the great river delta oft altered course. Some dried up after decades of flowing free. Many others changed course, flowed backward sometimes, or otherwise were not in the place where they once were in the days of the Olde Heroes of Yore.
Port Town was not always situated at its current, specific jetty, though the lighthouse most certainly was ancient. A port had cropped up along the strongest arm of the river delta multiple times throughout history and, as the flow of the river changed, it had been invariably abandoned. This was the fifth Port Town, that church historians knew of.
Back in the Olde Heroes’ time, Port Town was on its third configuration. The docks from that old, pre-Interface time still existed, buried deep in the swamp, protected by the Scout’s hand-built traps and tricks.
It was a dungeon. One of a few by which faithful could test their combat and System mastery under the Menu against endgame threats. So hard to spot were these docks of an ancient time that rumor had it they would move unmoored from time and space, never appearing in the same spot once. This dungeon was, of course, meant for Scouts, Thieves, and other roguish, fleet-footed types.
And here, it was, appearing before Calaf, level 40 Stalwart.
This was a labyrinth for seasoned veterans. Experts in stealth and trap-setting. Entire parties of four to six people in their level seventies had been known to disappear in these zones, never to be heard from again.
Lucky Calaf, and the other Paladin-aspirants, had to travel to Fort Duran Du Loc, well off-road in Autumn’s Redoubt, towards the end of the path. By then aspirants were seasoned and better equipped to weather the trial by fire that was a knight’s gauntlet of endurance tests. It would be foolish to attempt the Battletower or Olde Docks at level parity for Deepwood or Port Town, their home abodes.
Nevertheless, Calaf took a step forward…
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A quick look couldn’t hurt.
This first area was an empty clearing hemmed in by wharves that once stood by the riverside. Now the dry riverbed ran straight through, grasses growing at the bottom.
Stranded boats sat helm-deep in silt. For a thief or scout, there would be a dozen ways up into the docks proper. But for brave Calaf, well, he found a ladder near what would be the pier master’s office.
Ever wary of traps, and those Scout’s Lockpicks doing most of the work for the more defense-oriented Stalwart, Calaf advanced towards the first major dock. He peeked inside, finding a darkened room with light barely penetrating dust-covered glass panes.
A group of six corpses, relatively recent kills, lay strewn about on the floors. They had names like Gor the Boulder Smasher, Level 75, and Swift-Footed Kyle, Level 82. All were immolated, their bodies unrecognizable amidst burning ash and soot. And judging by the fact they were still smoldering; they were all recent kills.
The first sign of a whirling, bottom-heavy automaton greeted Calaf, wheeling around a far corner:
Name:
Gustavo’s Flamer Dire-Automaton
Rank:
Automaton, Ancient Construct
Level
83
Status:
1000/1000 (Ungrounded)
Weapons:
- Whirling blade saws
- Flame Belcher
- Protocol: Kill on Sight
Calaf turned tail and was back in the riverbed and out of the docks before the mechanical monstrosity could even register a hostile.
Well, he knew where this place was now. Calaf made a point of marking where he was on his map. Or at least where he suspected he was.
A slight trail of burnt underbrush marked the way back to the road.
Mission accomplished, courtesy of some form of divine provenance. Calaf was running into all types, these days Must be the higher-than-average Luck stat.
Now, it was time to visit the cathedral to see if he couldn’t pay a visit to the shrine of the martyred Paladin. The next step on his journey towards that coveted rank.
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