Skill Earned!
Assasination Level 1! XP +30. Kill 3 Creatures without them detecting you (3/3).
Pop! Goes the Weasel.
Ryan grinned as the doe went down, his arrow sticking out of her side. He'd shot her clean through the heart, and she'd died after a few steps. It was a good feeling, killing a doe cleanly. Especailly since he'd done it with his hand made bow and flint tipped arrows. He was worred if they'd be strong enough for deer, but the first deer kill laid his fears to rest. The little bow had the punch needed so long as he aimed at the vitals. It would never break bone, but it was sharp enough to pop lungs and slice hearts. He was proud of his accuracy. It'd grown enormously from those first days missing rabbits...and also after the terrible ordeal of having to track a gutshot buck, almost get gored by its antlers, and then wait for it to bleed out enough to cut its throat. He'd spent the night in a tree over the carcass and woke in the pre-dawn to see a large midnight black cat dragging it off. Not wanting to press his luck, Ryan'd let it go. That still stung.
But that was almost a month ago now. He'd been on Aurora for 64 days, and was surviving nicely. His little base camp grew into a more permanent shelter, the lean-to replaced by a more suitable a-frame lodge made of river mud and saplings. The old lean-to now served as his meat drying shed, after he'd dug out the inside to take advantage of the cool earth. Game in the local area was reduced by his predation, which was a little worrisome. His traps were less and less fruitful as the time passed, and he moved them further and further afield. That'd eventually led to the deer hunting.
He'd found signs of their bedding upstream and began tracking the deer to find their ranges. He always took solitary deer away from the main body, and the meat served to sustain all the work he'd been doing. He had to kill more deer than he liked, because something was getting into the meat shed but that was life out here. He began to drag the doe back to camp while adjusting the Demonic Boar Skin Cloak. The sky looked like rain was coming soon. He needed to hurry back, quarter this doe and hang it before the rain go too bad.
The rain began to fall, and he slipped the hood of his cloak over his head. The snout of the boarskin hung over his head like a baseball cap, and the tusks had found service as knives, awls, and other tools. He'd used as much of the creature as he could. In fact, he'd targeted that gutshot buck for his antler more than his meat. Oddly, the deer here seemed to carry their antlers year round, unlike home. Also, the females had small straight antlers that came out of the back of their heads. Other than that, they were very similar to whitetails back home. Different coloration, with more dapples and spots, and little bit smaller, but essentially the same as a whitetail deer. Which was nice because he knew where the vitals were.
The rain continued to fall on Ryan's head as he trudged along, dragging the doe. He traced a foottrail made by constant use in the woods, walking along his old trap line back to base. His arrows rattled against his side and his bow, strung over his arm, clanked on the other. All around him, ferns and pines shed water. It was pleasantly cool out and a soft wind blew the summer storm along. Everything around him was in constant motion, and the sound of water splashing off leaves filled the air. Which is why he missed the shaking bush ahead of him.
A giant black cat exploded out of the ferns along his trial leaping at Ryan and baring its teeth. Startled, Ryan dropped his deer and fell back away from the carcass. He scrambled to get up as the cat circled. As he crawled back wards on his hands and butt, he got his first good look at the cat. It was easily seven or eight feet long, and black as coal. It looked a lot like the cat he'd seen a month ago chasing that gutshot buck, but this one was smaller. A lot smaller. It looked thin in the rib, and the eyes held a certain feral hunger. Its demeanor was not one of hunting Ryan; no, if the cat had been after him, it wouldn't have been so obvious. It was trying to scare him off his kill and stake its claim for its own.
Ryan managed to get his back to a tree and stand against it. The cat yowled at him and showed its weapons. Two large white incisors protruded from the upper jaw, like a sabre toothed tiger. It swiped the air in front of it, showing wicked claws in its dominance display. It false charged Ryan, and stopped over the carcass of the deer, screaming its anger at him. Its tailed was fluffed out and its hackles up as it growled. He gripped the shaft of his largest tusk knife, his only close in weapon, but did not draw it. Instead he began to slowly back away from the cat. It mirrored his movements a few steps off the carcass, then stopped as Ryan kept backing away. The cat continued to growl and stare at him until he was almost out of sight in the dense woods. As he ducked behind a tree to hide, he saw the cat turn towards the head of the carcass.
"Looks like I've found who's been stealing from my meat shed," thought Ryan, "Damn, a nuisance animal." That cat, based on how much smaller it was than the once he'd seen a month back, must be a juvenile. It probably was a vagrant looking for a territory when it came upon Ryan's camp. Cats not being stupid, it realized Ryan hunted and stocked food there, so it stuck around for a week or so and scored some free deer meat. The cat attacked from the direction of the camp, which meant it'd proabbly come from there after checking to see if there was any food in the larder. Which also meant it equated Ryan with food. Which was not what Ryan wanted.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He cursed out loud, albiet quiety. He had to do something about the Dire Panther yearling that was probably, right now, dragging off his doe meat. He had some jerky left, but not much so not only did he need to kill the cat out of safety, but he needed the food. Besides that, there was the principle of the thing. He was not going to let some damn cat come into his woods and boss him around. He was the Champion of Luris after all, so he might as well act like it. Resolved, he grabbed his bow off his shoulder and knocked an arrow. Taking note of the wind, he circled the clearing. The rain had died down until it was a soft pitter patter on the leaves, masking his scent and sound.
With the wind in his face, he began his approach on the cat. He strove to be as silent as possible. The only way this would work would be to get the cat with a few arrows in weak points to drive it off. If it was truly desperate, it would probably lunge at him, but he planned on having enough of a head start to get away. He spotted the creature ahead of him. It had stuck its head inside the disembowled deer and ripped off a long strip of meat, eating with great gusto. About thirty yards out, he paused and took aim.
Assasination Skill Activated!
Do 10% more damage to targets unaware of your presence. Stacks with surpise attack damage (10%). Increased chance of a critical hit.
He held his arrow drawn, his arm beginning to shake from the effort, waiting for the cat to make the wrong move. After a few seconds it obliged, reaching its head into the rear of the gut cavity, revealing a quartering away profile on its vital areas. Seeing the shot was made, Ryan loosed his arrow.
The arrow flew away more rapidly than any he'd ever seen before, flying flatter due to his increased speed. It seemed almost semi-transparent as it sped away from the bow, possibly due to the effect of the skill. The change in velocity due to the effect of the assination skill messed up his shot slightly, and the arrow impacted higher in the vital area than Ryan hoped for. The cat screamed in pain and leapt up into the air, the arrow stuck into its side, and its lung pierced and filling with blood. It spun to face its assailant and leapt at Ryan. As he turned to run, the Dire Panther closed the 30 yard gap in mere bounds. It caught him with a paw to the face, but luckily barely connected. His necked snapped from whiplash as the claws scoured deep marks in his cheek, narrowly avoiding his eyes. Ryan drew his tusk knife and sliced the cat's neck with one motion. A shallow cut opened and began to bleed as he leapt back to create distance. Equally surprised at its assailant's claws, the cat leapt back as well.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Title Perk Activated!
The Champion of Luris, Goddess of Hunters and Scouts, deals greater damage to natural monsters in combat. +10% damage to all strikes when engaged in combat.
The cat huffed and leapt at him as Ryan quickly read his status. He caught the cat's claws on his back, the demonic boar cloak protecting him as he was thrown into a tree. Staggering up, he turned to see the cat, bleeding from its neck and mouth covered in frothy blood, leap at him. Realizing the cat was lung shot, Ryan dipped to the left and stabbed his tusk knife into the beast's side, puncturing the opposite lung as well. He turned as the cat charged him, drawing another tusk knife. He spun gracefully away at the last moment, avoiding the deadly claws as he stabbed the smaller knife into its shoulders like a bullfighter in the arenas of Pamplona. The cat staggered from the blow, the knife cutting into its spine. Its lungs were filled with blood and it fell to the ground, unable to rise but still alive. It huffed as it fought for its final breaths, drowning in its own lifeblood. Ryan stood away from it, wary, holding an arrow for a weapon. He'd lost his bow in the violent contest.
With a gasp and a rattle, the cat died, its body slumping to the earth as the life left its muscles. Bleeding heavily from his face, concussed, and with a broken nose, Ryan sank to the earth exhausted. In his mind's eye a notification appeared as he slipped away into a shock induced blackout.
Congratulations!
You've slain Dire Panther LVL 4! XP +40
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Skill Earned!
Melee Combat (Knife) LVL 1! XP +30. Kill 1 fellow knife wielder in melee combat (1/1). You now do more damage per knife strike (+2%).
No one wins in a knife fight.
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Level Up!
You are now a level 3 Human! All Attributes +1. SP +1.
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Luris slumped back against her chair, the encounter over and her level 3 classless champion still alive. She'd rolled poorly on his assasination skill, and he'd paid dearly for it. The glancing blow from the Dire Panther and getting smashed against the tree had cost Ryan a quarter of his HP and given him a concussion effect. Luckily, she'd had a good roll on his first knife attack and a better one on the second, immobilizing the beast while its lungshot status took its HP down to zero. It was far closer than she wanted for Ryan, and was not planned. All in all, a tough but good random encounter.
However, the "random" Dire Panther Encounter was probably less random than it seemed. Bevgille spent some of his Faith Points last turn to make a covert strike against another player, and judging by the dissapointment in his face, it looked like she was the target. His plan backfired though, as that encounter was all she needed to push Ryan to Level 3, as well as unlock a new skill. It was a close thing though. His gear was subpar for the fight, and truly only her rolls determined his fate. She was glad he'd chosen to attempt the assinate skill but worried when he tried to flee and her roll was not high enough for him to escape.
Loki looked over to her, smirking, "Everything all right, Luris?"
She nodded, "Yes, yes. That was exciting! Ok, so now I can spend my accumulated Faith Points, right?"
"Of course, it's still your turn, Luris."
"Ok, I'll play this monster card then and that'll be it for my turn."
Loki smiled behind his Game Master partition. Looks like Ryan survived another day.
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Southwest of the Forest of Silence, Enchandra stalked her prey along the Shimmering Shores. Her cast net flew gracefully out and trapped a school of shining fish beneath. Her trusted trident clanked gently against her back as she pulled the net closed with a swift jerk. She could feel the school of fish wriggling and smiled. She would eat well tonight, and have some to spare for the village as well. As she walked back from the inlet to the village, the sun kissed the horizon behind her. She smiled at the warm sand that caught between her high laced sandals and her toes, and turned along the trail to climb over the dunes and into the little village. As she crested the first dune, a gust of wind kicked up a dust devil. As she watched it momentarily she heard a low voice call out.
"Enchandraaaaaaa......"
The wind wipped, and she couldn't tell where the voice came from.
"...Enchandraaaaaa...."
She looked around for the source of the voice but no one was in sight. The dust devil came closer and she heard her name in the wind again.
"Enchandraaaaaaa........"
She got closer to the dust devil to confirm her suspicions. It was the source of the sound. It grew smaller and turned faster as she approached.
"Hello?" She called out to the dust devil, "Who are you?"
It replied to her, in a voice made from the wind and sand, "It is I, Enchandra...I Makkedon, God of Nets. Thy Patron Diety!"
She fell onto the sand before the dust devil in a worshipful bow. Her Lord Makkedon deigned speak to her this day? What a blessed day it must be. She called out to him, "My Lord, it is I Enchandra, your humble servant. How may I best serve thee?"
The dust devil seemed to bow slightly, as if pleased with her piety and defference. "Enchandra, most loyal of my servants. I have a pledge for thee! Go forth from the Shimmering Shores! Go forth and spread my name amongst these people, for you are my Chosen, my Champion. My Priestess. Let no other gods stand before me, and let no other champion defy my power!" In so saying, the dust devil settled into the form of Makkedon, the God of Nets. His body shone and shimmered with salt spray, and his hand grasped both net and trident. He was mightily built and broad, and his head was like that of the Carp, the wisest of fish who is never caught in the hooks and nets. This great being gestured and Enchandra's body floated away from the sand and was wrapped in a blinding light.
Enchandra felt her body spark with divine power as she was cocooned by her god. His power flowed into her, and she herself become wrapped in his vestements. In her mind's eye, her status appeared:
Enchandra Patel Champion of Makkedon Class Priestess Title Champion of Makkedon, High Priestess of Makkedon Race Human HP/MP 200(+.2) / 100(+.1) XP 940 SP 5 Level 5 STR 21 AGI 14 END 20 CHAR 19 WIS 20 INT 25 Skills Trapping (Lvl. 4), Fishing (Lvl.4), Elvish (Lvl. 2), Netmaking (Lvl. 2), Melee Combat (Trident)(Lvl. 2) , Illusion Magic (Lvl. 1), Holy Magic (Lvl. 1) Spells Sparkle, Lantern, Poor Illusion, Holy Healing (Weak), Sacrament (Weak), Cleanse (Weak) Items Trident of the Faith (Fair), Handwoven Net (Good), Shawl of Protection (Fair), Braces of The Holy (Good)
As her body sank towards the sand, and the sun set behind her god, she prostrated herself in devotion. He spoke a final time, "Enchandra, I gave thee the gift of my power. I gave thee the class of Priestess. Now I charge thee; go forth and conquer in my name. Burn the heretics before thee."
And so began the First Crusade of Makkedon.