Joe drew the curved axe from his dimensional ring. As it settled into his hand, he noted just how well-balanced the ornate weapon was. This was an exceptionally well-crafted axe, clearly of elvish or fey design. Joe was leaning toward the latter. The designs looked more similar to what he had seen in the Erlking’s pyramid than the patterns Earcellwen wore on her clothing and gear.
He quickly swapped rings and tried to assess it, but the axe’s rarity was beyond the meager assessment skill awarded by his [Lesser Ring of Evaluation]. That meant the weapon was a rare or better item. The only thing the ring told him was the axe’s name was ‘Trisynun.’ Joe had been planning on buying a better identification item but had not gotten around to it yet.
He was about to ask Mahq if the boy could tell him anymore when he remembered his meticulously prepared girlfriend had talked him into buying a few scrolls of [Greater Assess Item]. Joe headed for the kitchen and opened the end drawer, which was quickly becoming his junk drawer. Sure enough, there were the three scrolls he had purchased with her. He was glad she didn’t know he had tossed them here instead of putting them into his spatial ring, where they would always be on hand.
He activated the scroll and assessed the elegant handaxe.
Item [Trisynun - ‘The three that are one’] (Weapon (Axe) - Epic): Crafted during the Winter Wars when the forces of An-Dumnos, the Court of Ravens and Shadows assaulted the forests of Ahnun, the Dappled Hunting Grounds. Three hounds of the Wild Hunt bound themselves to this axe to serve Callum the Bounder. The hounds can be summoned from the axe to watch over their bound custodian.
Keen Edge: Enhanced damage.
Each hound can empower the weapon’s combat capabilities:
* Bayu’s Howl: Release a sound-based cone that inflicts the [Weakened] condition to enemies within medium range.
* Maru’s Bite: Inflict moderate [Bleed] conditions with melee attacks.
* Ranu’s Dash: Increases your thrown weapon range by one increment and returns the weapon to your hand once its momentum is stopped.
Growth: As the connection between you and the weapon deepens, additional abilities will be unlocked.
“Holy moly. This is a cool weapon,” Joe whispered in awe.
“Can you release the dogs now, please?” Joe was surprised to hear Mahq’s request had inflection. The boy actually sounded excited.
Joe concentrated on the axe and felt a connection begin to form. He quickly began to sense multiple points of awareness emanating from within the weapon; awarenesses that were reaching out to him. In response, the wildness flared [Pack Master]. This time, the untamed spirit did not invoke the skill as a threat. In the ziggurat, Joe's wild side had used [Pack Master] like a hammer to crush the will of the undead beastlings. Now, it felt more like a shout of joy.
Three massive spectral beings bounded out of the bladed weapon and into the room. They looked a lot like wolfhounds. They were so tall their shoulders came up to Joe’s waist. Each hound had short, wiry coats and lupine-like builds but with blockier features than those of a wolf. As for coloring, it was hard to tell as they were translucent and glowing with a light blue hue.
They varied in size and gender. There were two females and one male. Oddly, one of the girls was much larger than her male counterpart, as well as the other female. The mighty lady stood almost half a foot taller than her packmates, her head only an inch or two below Joe’s chin.
The male took off, zooming around the room in a profusion of exuberant delight. The smaller lass sent a deafening chorus of barks after her brother. The big girl sighed and looked at Joe as if to say, ‘See what I have to deal with.’
A second later, a fourth canine joined the spectral pack. Smaller than the ghost-hounds, this fully corporeal creature dashed in front of the ghostly runner, taunting him into giving chase. In a matter of seconds, Mahq, the dog, and what Joe assumed had to be Ranu had knocked over an end table, the fireplace utensils, and a trash barrel before they dove out the window, with Bayu shouting at the top of her lungs, right on their heels.
“They are going to wake up the whole neighborhood,” Joe gasped. Already, he could hear the sounds of doors opening around the Abakka House. Leaping out into the night with the steady Maru at his side, Joe chased after the three maniac dogs. Even flaring [Hunter’s Pursuit], there was no way he was going to catch the racing runners. Thankfully, the trio was just bolting circles around the vine-coated apartments.
He turned around.
In seconds, Mahq, Ranu, and the happily howling Bayu turned the corner, charging right toward him.
“STOP!” Joe growled. They did.
“Sit!” he added. And they did that as well.
As Bayu was about to speak a greeting to Joe, he interjected. “Quiet, Bayu. It’s the middle of the friggin night. Shush.” Sighing, Joe led them into the courtyard. Mahq, sensing he was in trouble, remained in his canine shape.
Halten was there glowering at them under his heavy, hairy eyebrows. Runkbadok was rubbing his sleepy eyes, wearing an orange, plaid bathrobe that completely clashed with his green-striped skin. Ord and Berti were standing by their door below Joe’s apartment looking sheepish, certain their eccentric grandson was almost surely part of the baying ruckus that had just woken the house.
“Sorry, everyone,” Joe stated in a chagrined tone. “Things got out of hand. I’ll try to keep things down.”
“Let’s hope for better than ‘try,’ young man. Abakka House ain’t no sailor’s boarding house. We don’t abide any rackety ruckus in the dead of night. And you,” the gruff landlord railed, pointing a finger at the transformed dog trying to hide behind Joe’s leg. “You know better, too, Mahq.”
“Sorry,” the boy muttered, instantly back in his youthful human shape.
“Alright, back to bed y’all. We still got hours till dawn.”
Joe turned to the Catstaffs. “Sorry about that. I don’t think I’m going to be sleeping for a while, but I’ll take these guys away from the city for a long run. Pretty sure they have been cooped up for a very long time.”
“Not to worry. I have no doubt Macaroo had a hand in the commotion,” Ord guessed, looking at his grandson, who, in turn, only had eyes for the ghostly pack of hounds.
“No worries. Even if he …”
“Can I go with Joe, Gran?” the young man interrupted. “I want to run with the hunter spirits too.”
When the elderly woman looked to Joe, he nodded back to her. “I don’t mind at all, Berti. We’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Ok. You listen to Joe. Alright?”
“Yes, Gran.” the boy replied, sticking his forehead against Ranu’s ethereal brow. A second later, he was one of them again.
Joe intuitively knew the protector of the pack. He and Maru exchanged a look that told Joe she would not let the boy out of her sight. Running a hand down her back in a reflexive gesture of thanks, he expected his limb to pass right through her body. Surprisingly, as long as Joe didn’t put much weight behind his motion, he found his fingers sliding over a semi-tangible torso.
“Ok, that’s cool,” he beamed, looking at his fingers lightly gliding over the beautiful girl’s back. After considering his next move, he added, “Well, this is going to be embarrassing, but it’s the best I can do for now.”
As the new pack headed for the outskirts of Fort Coral, anyone looking out to see what all the barking was about would see a trio of huge, spectral hounds chasing a coyote, who was hot on the heels of a minuscule jack russell terrier. Thanks to Joe’s other skills, the big dogs were the ones struggling to keep up with his tiny churning legs.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
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That evening, Kendell came to the Abakka House looking for her absent boyfriend. She had been sure he was going to come find her at the guildhouse, full of way too many apologies, but he had not shown up all day.
As she slid open the door to Joe’s bedroom, the skills-trainer spied an overflowing bed. Her paramour was sprawled face down across the mattress, snoring away. The young spiritual genius, Mahq, was flopped on his back at an angle, sleeping soundly, his head using Joe’s lower back as a pillow. Two enormous ghostly dogs were curled into the ‘V’ made between their bodies. One kicked a leg every few seconds while the other made soft content squeaks. A third, even larger phantom hound lay against Mahq’s other side, positioning itself between those in the bed and the door. The huge canine shade lifted its head to regard Kendell’s presence but made no move or sound.
Easing back, Kenda gently closed the door and breathed a giant sigh of relief. The last few days had been worrisome. She knew Joe was dealing with some sort of battle-shock, but he had worked himself into such a state that she was considering having Mortalius cast [Deepest Sleep] on him just to let him get some rest. It looked like that drastic measure was no longer needed.
Smiling, she headed back to the guildhouse. She and RC would find Hah’roo tonight and make it a girl’s night.
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Margen slid one of the triangular game pieces forward, sacrificing one of his pikemen to reveal the token Joe had blocking his advance was indeed a paladin. Joe had hoped to capture something better than the third worst soldier for that information, but the look on Margen’s face was either a great bluff or Joe’s holy warrior was seriously messing up the founder’s plans.
They had been playing Generals, a game somewhat reminiscent of Stratego, for the last few hours. Joe had gotten destroyed in the first two rounds, but he was starting to pick up on the tricks to this more strategic variation. He still missed bombs, though. No matter how many times Joe suggested them, Margen refused to consider working them into this ancient game.
“Well played, young man. I thought for sure you were trying to be overly clever again, but taking the center of the board is going to make this tricker for me now.”
“Thank you, sir… Margen, but are you sure this is what you want to be doing? I mean, ninety percent of the city would sell their left nut to spend this last day with you before you go back into DoomHerald.” Joe moved one of his assassins behind his heavy-duty shield-bearer, hoping to snipe whatever piece the legend would send to break his blockade. “Why me?”
“For just that reason, son. I know when I return, I will be expected to sit on the council and take a role in the future of Fort Coral. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am quite willing,” the big man admitted, moving a piece Joe had not yet identified. “This city has exceeded all my expectations. It’s stable and prosperous, but that doesn’t mean it is truly safe. The dragonkin of Cazmaloq are rattling their sabers again. They have made no headway in the north-east for several years. They may test us again. If this Blood King breaks into Duskrug, the north will be in turmoil. Then, there is the constant threat from Necronias in the west.”
He leaned back in the giant armchair someone had found for him and settled the purple and green blanket wrapped over his shoulders, Mairrhee’s colors. He didn’t look too bad to regular sight, but Joe saw how quickly his body was faltering again. The cursed rot seemed to return more rapidly and more potently after each healing. Joe’s skills told him the disease's core was continuously growing more virulent. Until that was entirely drained from the warrior, it would eat through any healing he or the church could provide.
“When I return, I fully expect the Fort Coral council will assign me to become the city’s martial general once again. This may be my last quiet afternoon with someone who neither wants something from me nor is revering me as some paragon I cannot hope to be. For you, months will go by. For me, tomorrow I will be getting back to work. Let me enjoy this a bit longer.”
“Ok, but you may not enjoy this,” Joe stated as he revealed his dragoon. Moving the token over Margen’s defenders, the leap-attacking piece terminated the founder’s cleric. The last two games Joe lost were primarily due to Margen's craftiness in returning pieces to the board. Without a cleric, he was stuck with the pieces he had left.
“You are a quick study.”
“You would not believe how many board games I’ve played.”
“I was about to offer you a gift in thanks for my rescue, but after that dirty maneuver, I’m not so sure anymore.”
“You did the exact same thing to me on the very first game!” Joe declared with much mock vehemence. “Before I even knew the reveal rule.”
“You might be right there. I do recall sweeping your army off the board in near record-breaking time.” Margen quirked a grin at Joe’s exaggerated glower. Instead of firing back another retort, the founder opened his character window for Joe.
Margen’s progression and Joe’s could not have been further apart. Almost all of the warrior’s skills were at least rare. They were orderly and logical. His defense was built off of his offense. Backing these two pillars was an impressive array of leadership abilities.
Joe was thankful he couldn’t show the general his profile. He feared his would look like a kindergartener’s fingerpainting of random colors compared to the precisely constructed build of the living legend.
“I was going to share with you an exotic skill as a reward, something you can’t just get from the guild stores, but that Myllo feller told me you have a neat little trick. He said you can take traits. That’s a new one. Don’t think I ever heard of anyone but the fey lords and ladies being able to do that, and then only with their vassals. Is that true?”
“It is. And thanks to my recent leveling, the ability has reset,” Joe stated, still scanning how systemically impeccable Margen’s advancement was.
“Perfect. Then I have one that’s very fitting. It sounds like you don’t need to meet the requirements for the traits you copy, but I like the fact that you have met them for this one.”
One of the founder’s traits brightened. Joe read it.
[Champion of the Realm]: Not on my Watch. +1 to all attributes and +15% to advance your skills
“What you did in that ziggurat tells me you are someone Fort Coral can count on,” the warrior proudly stated. Before Joe could stammer some embarrassing reply, the big man continued, “The real winner is the bonus attribute points, for sure. But don't knock that second one, either. I know most skill advancements can be bought, but trying to find an advancement for some of your more exotic skills can sometimes be downright impossible.”
“Wow. Thank you. That is a huge boost.”
“Happy to, son. There are not enough words or rewards to state how grateful I am to you and your ‘familiar.’”
“Sorry about that…” Joe began, only to have a smirking Margen wave him off. The blanket-swaddled warrior pointed at his scroll, and Joe accepted the gift.
When the rush hit him, he was glad he was sitting. The wave of energy coursing through him did not have the same euphoria as leveling, but it was a dizzying sense of suddenly becoming more. More aware. More hardy. More focused. More graceful. He held his hands up so as not to touch anything, leary that his newly awarded strength would break something.
At the same time, a cluster of notifications appeared.
You have met the requirements to advance [Healing Touch] to uncommon rank. Do you wish to advance it?
You have met the requirements to advance [Efferous Endurance] to rare rank. Do you wish to advance it?
You have met the requirements to advance [Melee Defense] to uncommon rank. Do you wish to advance it?
You have met the requirements to advance [Heart Fire] to uncommon rank. Do you wish to advance it?
Joe used the new points on the first three and spent one of his free points to upgrade [Heart Fire].
Still amazed by the rapid change to himself, Joe reached for the shield bearer piece again when he noticed something from his opponent. It was the tiniest smile, with a hint of a hum. Scanning the board again with a rejuvenated focus, Joe spotted what could be a trap.
Margen had been playing as if his paladin was guarding his general in the backfield. This new offensive was meant to look like an effort to draw Joe out of the strong position he was in. But what if the founder had more power in that unrevealed cluster of pieces than he was letting on? If Joe moved his shield bearer to cover his assassin further, he wouldn’t be able to get it back in place if this was not just a probe, but a full offensive.
Joe moved his hand away from the shield bearer and there it was again, though this time concern instead of anticipation. Joe revealed his left scout, allowing it to move in a straight line instead of a single space. He sent it into Margen’s leading piece. The scout died to the founder’s paladin, but now Joe knew he was right about how the old warrior had been trying to out-fox him.
Aware that his opponent’s strength was so far forward, the game was over. Joe could easily reach Margen’s general before the swordsman could stop him.
“Alright, when I return, we are going to go again, son,” huffed the great man as he revealed and tipped over his general. “You are a very quick study. When I’m back to full health, I want a rematch.”
He stretched out his huge hand to congratulate Joe, but as it was clasped by the younger man, Margen placed his other hand solidly over the top.
“Be well, son. I expect to hear more good things about you when I get back.”
“See ya tomorrow, sir,” Joe quipped deliberately.
“I’m not a … oh, go away, and grab me a cleric. It’s time I abandon my comfy chair and got cleaned up. Wouldn’t be proper to show up stinking of sweat and rot when next I see this world.”
Joe squeezed the hero’s hand and was mildly crushed back in response. Releasing the grip, he went to find someone to help the founder prepare for his last death for hopefully a very, very long time.