Chapter 26 Wyrd

The royal chambers had remained the same, nothing disturbed or taken. Adrian took his time storing the potions and equipment he brought. Preparations for what he perhaps thought to be the inevitable. He may not die today or tomorrow, but if the monsters in this place were any indication to his future dealings in Olsdaat, it was only a matter of time.

And when the time comes, I’ll need new supplies, new gear, he thought, looking at his hands as he sat down on his bed. He took off his helmet, turning it around in his hands. “Almost looks like some kind of warrior,” he murmured to himself. A small part of him told him to lie down, to just give up on whatever he thought he was doing. Whatever objective he thought about, it would all be hopeless in the end.

He smiled to himself, putting his helmet back on. That voice in his head might just be a part of him that he couldn’t lose. But today it had no power over him, a small insignificant noise. He stood up again and grabbed his gear, modified crossbow slung around his shoulder as he stepped out onto the terrace.

The tree looked downright magical, the silver lines shimmering in the sunlight, moving lightly as a gust of wind brushed past. The contrasting shriveled up dead trees all around added to the image.

“Terranthir,” Adrian murmured. No response came from the tree. Of course it didn’t. He walked towards the railing, touching the white bark in passing. The view of Faenhold castle spread out before him, just as it had on the first day he had come here. How long has it already been? Hardly matters at this point. Was Steve given to someone else? Does Baxter think I’m dead? Police might be looking for me still, a body if nothing else.

He sighed, gripping his spear. Even more reason to show this place what I can do.

Adrian looked behind him, a little embarrassed by the thought. When he had started his training up on this terrace, the notion would’ve been beyond ridiculous. Now however, he had magic at his disposal. A crossbow with which he could kill several undead in a few seconds. He had some training with the spear, enough to let him defend himself. And he had learned a little more about where he was. A real place, with real magic. And the potential to bring him back. But his problems wouldn’t be resolved by asking nicely.

So far at least he didn’t think he had any time constraints. Getting me here without any information, without a task to fulfill, no time limit. Why? Was I just to survive? There has to be a purpose. Nobody would waste resources to get someone into this place without one. Entertainment? Is there some intergalactic audience watching my struggles? Chaos? Did Loki think it especially funny to strand me in another reality? Or just a random event, a fluke of the universe. Somehow, I don’t think any of that applies.

Adrian turned his back on the castle town, stepping into the office he had searched so long ago. The library seemed rather extensive. Faenhold law I, II, and III, Appliance of Adrenaline Potions, Famous Battles of the Third Age, Musings of Jii, Ancient Rituals, Mystery of Truth.

He read the titles, putting most of the books back again. Some would surely help in one way or the other, at the very least giving him more of an idea of this country and world he had found himself in. What he found to be the most interesting part of the office were various letters resting in the desk’s drawers.

Reports, he realized. War reports. Summaries of various fronts where the Faenhold army fought alongside other troops against the forces of the Numera Empire. That’s what he gathered at the very least. Every single one asked for reinforcements, supplies, food, doctors, and weapons. The various letters were singed by different officers of various ranks Adrian didn’t know.

Wasn’t going well, he mused, opening his pack before he took out the map he had gotten from the barracks. Leafing through a few of the books quickly gave him several empty pages to write on. Or in this case, sketch. Doesn’t need to be perfect. Just enough so that I can find the stores.

Some of the stores were in the same upper district he was currently in, which would allow him to gather supplies for his royal chambers. He finished his copy of the surrounding area and started reading some sections of the various books.

Required sacrificial blood for a fertility ritual, not exactly the information I’m looking for, he thought, putting the book back and continuing with the Musings of Jii. Ancient Guardian apparently. “It is unknown when and why the Guardian appears, taking interest in people of various standing and backgrounds. While supposedly guiding in nature, the advice given has generally been deemed entirely nonsensical. Various groups have dedicated their lives to the unraveling of a hidden code, should such exist in the first place.”

What followed were poems and snippets of conversations people may or may not have had with the Guardian. Likely quite useless to Adrian who moved on to the next book. He only looked through a few pages of the numerous law and war tactics books, the information exactly what had been promised. The potion book at least informed him about a few negative side effects but in general only talked about when and when not to use dangerous substances in various military scenarios.

There was nothing on Terranthir or why he was there, not obviously so at least. I’ll have to look through them after all. Nothing like Summoning 101, how to feed otherworldly beings to a guardian tree, To you, Adrian – Once you wake up.

He left the office behind and instead went into the small art gallery. All he found were the same depictions he had seen before. Wonderfully made but the creatures facing armored warriors and mages meant little to him without context. Nobody had added descriptions either, perhaps because everyone with even the slightest bit of knowledge of this country would know anyway.

When he left again, Adrian glanced to the closed door on the left side of the hallway. Beyond would be another one of his bodies, coupled with the knight likely back in his office. He gulped, wondering if his glass arrows could penetrate the armor. I can test it against steel plating, but even then, the knight’s gear is likely magical in nature. Plus I’d have to face a fast moving creature who knows how to wield a sword.

It wasn’t a task he was ready for. And you’re read to face the Wyrd? he wondered with a slight smirk. For some reason he was less scared of the ghostly apparitions. Perhaps because they were just ghosts to him, much like the undead he had fought for so long. Forgotten creatures only waiting to be sent off. And the knight… it’s still capable, deadly. A remnant of the might once called Faenhold.

Adrian spent the next few days searching for and through the shops in the upper district, killing the occasional undead still present in the dusty workshops and storefronts. Anything useful he found he stored in the royal wing, both in his bedroom and the adjacent rooms. Armors, weaponry, and potions of various make. For now he didn’t much care for the potential disastrous effects they had, simply storing them in one of the servants quarters, including the books and notes he found on their making. The thing he enjoyed most were the comfortable clothes he found. Questionably fresh underwear and various shirts and pants that didn’t provide stats but managed to remind him of home.

Most of the additional food he recovered remained similarly bland as his first finds, Yrenor’s freshly grown vegetables miles ahead of the competition.

In addition to everything immediately useful, Adrian started to look for currency. The shops did have pouches with silver coins, everything he found added to his growing supplies. He didn’t know if the coins would have any value in the Bastion of Horadim, but if there were other people there, he assumed it was better to come prepared for the possibility. Otherwise he’d have to trade with goods and he thought it easier to carry coins instead of a dozen swords.

Less questions to be asked about coins too. If they’re not somehow obviously from Faenhold castle or the surrounding lands.

What he found lacking in his search was gear made for mages. Either they were rare or simply part of the military. He only had the warmage equipment he currently wore. Modifying another crossbow would still be possible however, and he had plenty of bolts stored in his chambers, including another few non modified weapons. It would take longer and may not be quite as good as his current set up but it would be enough to kill another mage or two. At least he hoped as much.

He checked his throwing knives, all sixteen sharpened and resting in their modified glass sheathes. Now that Yrenor wasn’t here to chastise him, he had modified one of the Faenhold Leaf Spears he still had. The old man didn’t think Adrian’s ability, honor, or club membership sufficient to grant him an actual steel spear. The weapon was heavier but much more sturdy and incredibly well balanced compared to the normal spear he had been using the past months.

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The plan of course didn’t involve spear usage at all but with how scared the old man was of the Wyrd, Adrian made sure to prepare for everything he could think of.

He had chosen what had likely once been a government building, clearing out the soldiers and civilian undead still remaining within before he prepared the ground floor. Four doors led through the various large rooms, the furniture put in place to provide further cover in case the creatures managed to break through the entrance, heavy wooden double doors.

In each room he placed ten glass bolts, a glass tipped spear, some water, and food. He added an oil lamp each with some matches, the latter found within the building itself. Light would attract the Wyrd but without light, he wasn’t exactly a threat either. A small corridor connected to the last room, with a stairwell leading into a cleared out basement. He had considered buildings with upper floors or ways to access the roof until he remembered the crow sitting on his window sill. It had been the same as the other creatures, which meant a closed off room would be a safer bet than a roof. With how many creatures roamed the streets, he didn’t think fleeing would be a particularly viable option anyway.

He sat on a chair in the first room, looking at the four grated windows showing the street beyond. They were perfect to shoot out from, the glass from one of them removed with his magic. Adrian checked the bag next to him, the salt easily accessible. He had placed a bag in each room and four in the basement. Lines of it covered the floor both in front of the windows and on his escape route. The goal was to kill a Wyrd. To find out if it was possible at all and to see how much Essence they would provide.

As far as Adrian understood, the creatures roamed the wilderness too. Which meant he would likely have an encounter if he left Faenhold Castle to reach the Bastion. And he’d rather die trying to face them here where he could recover his gear instead of somewhere in unknown territory. The plan didn’t include a death of course, he simply tried to expect the worst, hoping for the best.

Night would fall soon, the man checking his modified crossbow, stress eating some dried berries. What if the Wyrd can somehow kill me permanently? he thought, tapping his crossbow. Or they have an ability to destroy my mind… my soul. If they just torture me instead of killing, I’d hardly be the same, even if I came back to life.

He shook his head, focusing on what he knew. None of the creatures so far seemed particularly intent on harming him. He was just an insignificant speck in this forgotten town. No greater evil was out to get him, or he would be long gone. He knew they hated salt, if Yrenor could be believed, and he should be able to injure them with his magic. And if this worked, he would have a way to increase his level without all the work of laying the corpses to rest.

Adrian noticed his hands shaking lightly. He sighed, sitting back in his chair as he put away his crossbow. He still had about half an hour until the sun would set. And even then, the Wyrd don’t just attack. They didn’t even get through a simple wooden door. Have some confidence.

He smiled despite the fear. To think he would willingly fight horrifying creatures like the Wyrd, all to increase his own power. I expected less from myself, he realized, looking at the glass modifications on his weapon of choice. He had found a way to apply his limited magic capabilities to make an already deadly weapon even more so. The potions in his belt pouches were waiting too, in case the monsters pushed him too far.

His hands looked different too. They seemed rough, small cuts and scars visible in various places. Not the hands of a technician working on his desk. His belly was mostly gone too, more so due to a lack of abundant food than a rigorous training regime, though he did train plenty as well. The constant adrenaline and fear of real battle probably burned more calories than the exercises he managed to do in the past few weeks. Perhaps he had invested too much of his time into his magic training. The results were just much more tangible. He wasn’t too annoyed about it. Yrenor still pushed him enough to work on his stamina and strength.

The light dimmed slowly, darkness soon returning to the alleyways of Faenhold castle.

Adrian sat in his chair still, eyes peeled on the outside world, his oil lamp remaining unlit. As his eyes adjusted, he started to see shadows in the darkness, moving specters clad in black tatters. Their forms were vaguely humanoid, floating in their search.

When the clouds moved away to reveal the moon above, he found himself staring at the distorted faces of a dozen ethereal creatures. The Wyrd.

A few of them had come close to the metal grates covering the windows, nothing remaining within their eye sockets and yet it felt like they stared right at him. Ghostly hands extended, clawed fingers scratching against the steel and glass.

Adrian knew he could just sit there and wait out the night. But it wasn’t why he came and his routine would simply continue the same way if he didn’t try something new. You’re still progressing. Maybe give yourself another few months, work on your magic and get stronger. The undead provide enough levels.

He ignored the voice, standing up before he walked towards the window where he had removed the glass. Spear on his back, his loaded crossbow held before him, Adrian stopped a few meters in front of the grates.

“Can you hear me?” he said quietly, looking at the distorted mist like creature, its hands reaching through the grates in an attempt to get to him. He turned to the side, lighting a match. The scratching got faster, quiet cries audible now.

He lifted the cover of the lamp and lit the oil, looking at the quiet flame before he turned back to the creatures. More had gathered now, their movements frantic as they grasped towards the light. His hands were steady as he prepared his crossbow. He aimed, looking past the sights as the moonlight vanished again, the flame sitting on the desk next to him the only thing allowing him to see.

The crossbow released, the glass bolt accelerated by magic. It flew between the empty eyes of the closest Wyrd, encountering little resistance before it exited on the other side. The drag pulled the creature’s head back, its hands flailing in the air before it whipped forward. The mist like hair on its head stood up before it released a screech.

Adrian shot the next bolt, the projectile flashing through the creature’s chest, leaving a trail of darkness within. He was hurting it. The question was, how much. He moved another bolt into the arrow track, the string already pulled back.

More of the Wyrd started screeching now, their movements growing even more frantic as their claws shattered through the windows, one dark hand breaking through the heavy wooden doors. The claws sizzled, glowing a pale blue in the darkness.

Not good, Adrian thought, focusing on the hopefully injured Wyrd, shooting the third bolt into it. Shadows moved against the walls opposite his building, more creatures showing up. He grabbed a handful of salt and threw it forward, the monsters reeling back as their ethereal bodies hissed.

Focus on the target, he thought. At least find out if you can kill them.

He aimed and fired, the fourth bolt flashing through the staggering creature’s body. Adrian could feel his heartbeat pick up as another set of claws dug through the doors. Once more he aimed, his glass bolt slashing through the wailing creature before it dissipated, darkness floating up as all traces of it vanished.

He breathed out, lowering his crossbow as claws dug through steel and wood, a dozen screeches resounding as yet more of the Wyrd descended onto his position.

You can kill them, Adrian thought, grabbing another handful of salt with a shaking hand. He hoped for a long night.

Soulbound:

Essence – 450

Level – 14

Vitality – 16

Endurance – 10

Strength – 9

Skill – 8 [10]

Intelligence – 16 [27]

Wisdom – 15 [28]

Soul skill – Flowing Glass Magic – level 7

Equipment:

Helmet – Faenhold Warmage Helmet [Rare]

Wisdom +5

Wood Magic Control +2%

Stun Resistance +18%

Chest – Faenhold Mage Robe [Rare]

Intelligence +5

Wind Magic Control +2%

Mana Shield +25%

Arms – Faenhold Warmage Bracers [High]

Intelligence +4

Fire Magic Mana Cost -2%

Hands – Faenhold Mage Gloves [High]

Wisdom +2

Magic Projectile Speed +1%

Belt – Leather Belt [Adequate]

Intelligence +2

Legs – Faenhold Mage Pants [High]

Wisdom +4

Fire Resistance +1%

Boots – Faenhold Mage Boots [High]

Wisdom +2

Fire Resistance +5%

2h Weapon – Faenhold Crossbow [Adequate]

Skill +2