Nnnh…
“Had a good sleep?” Elia asked.
… no.
“Wanna see the cool loot I got?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” a voice said from below as Pascal inspected his furnace for any cracks.
“Shush, old man, I’m having an important discussion with myself.”
Pascal paused to raise a single eyebrow at her. He did that quite often. He should open a school on how to condense every emotion into a motion of those two bushy lines above people’s eyes.
For the sake of avoiding further misunderstandings, she turned away, electing to gaze at the mosaic along the wall. Looking for the creature that had killed her within it turned into a game of sorts, though one she was fated to lose. Many-armed and many-faced human serpents were not part of its themes; whoever made this was only interested in normal fantastical beings and nude people, liberally applied from top to bottom.
… I want a hug. From the attendant. And a massage, a special one. And some peaches.
“Sorry, not in the cards for us.” She waved her left hand. “Curse says no.”
Nnnnnnh… did you save Pascal?
“Yep!”
… what about the chicken?
Rye’s voice sounded so brittle, like an echo caught in glass. Elia was not the person to ask for cheering up the terminally sad. She was more the reason why people didn’t want to share a hospital room with her for long. There had been rumors about her, nasty ones.
“I-uh… should I have?”
… whatever.
“It’s fine, it’s fine, we can go do that right now.” She turned on her heels only to feel her knees lock up. “Rye, if there’s anything you want me to do, tell me. Say the word and I’ll save the chicken, take you home, or turn that demon into plaster.”
Or at the very least she would try. Rye scoffed.
What am I supposed to say to that, Elia? Barely a week ago I couldn’t even imagine letting you control my body like a puppet. Now? Now, I had my first adventure all on my own and you know what? It sucked! But I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Why should I let anyone else suffer in my stead when I’m perfectly able to die just as well as you?
Elia was a bit overwhelmed at the sudden outburst. “I… because I can get more done in between deaths?
Oh, so now it’s all about efficiency, isn’t it? How perfectly callous. And that aside, CAN you even kill a demon?
“Dunno. Never tried.” She strode forth to gather some empirical evidence, but three steps in her left leg seized up. Dammit, this was getting annoying. “Look, I get that you’re upset after dying like… that, but are you sure you don’t want revenge at all? Not even a little bit?”
I won’t have you die over and over, Elia, not for something as petty as that.
Elia bristled against something in her tone. “I’m not petty. I’m spiteful, thank you very much and I’d mostly be doing it for my own ego anyways.”
Then why ask me? Go, have your fun, die and win.
“Rye, it’s not that easy.” A wave of annoyance signed that as the wrong thing to say. “… and that demon burned you, Rye. Alive. Of course I won’t be doing it just for myself. I empathize.”
It didn’t hurt, I swear!
“You were screaming the entire time.”
I was scared!
Elia threw up her arms. “How was I supposed to know that?”
And, and then you, Elia, you slit my throat. Without asking for permission. I-I can’t, I just can’t live knowing that you might do it again in the future.
She was just trying to help, but did Rye ever appreciate her initiative? Nooo, it was always ‘don’t stab this’ and ‘I’m gonna be sick’ that.
“Sure,” she huffed, “fine, I won’t do it again.”
I’m serious, Elia. Disco. Rooster. Serious.
Oh.
“Alright, hand over my heart I promise you upon the hallowed name of Quibbles that I shall never lay a hand on you, ever.” She nervously looked around, searching for any sign of gods listening in. No oath-script appeared over her heart. She’d have to check later just to be sure.
Good. Also, no demon revenge.
“No demon revenge, got it.” The demon was moved to the very end of her long list of grudges.
Thank you. Could you go to the altar please? I… I want to ask for our safety.
Some time ago, Elia would have fought against any sign of piety like a rabid badger, but she was curious whether gods that existed listened more or less than the one that only did in books and theory. Her oath proved that they – or at least someone – was listening, now the question was whether she could witness a more concrete answer. It was always better to know your enemies than not to.
“Don’t tell me I have to kneel.”
No, standing is fine.
Rye cleared her throat, gathering her words for a moment.
I greet Valti, Lady of the Hunt. There is a thing most foul afoot in Glenrock. The knights are depraved. The castle sits atop a corrupting demon and the demon is of malign visage and ill-blessed with terrible fire. Please, I implore you, smite it. Smite it down to the hells below. Send your hunters, your beasts, your sons and let it be so.
“You know,” Elia said, watching the carved statues for any sign of movement, “I get the feeling we’re missing some piece of this place’s history. The Fane–Eater ate something bad and became corrupt. I’m guessing something similar happened to the knights as well. Meanwhile, the castle is on lockdown and its lord hasn’t been seen while undead pile high and a demon has burrowed under its walls. But who turned the knights into goop, when did the gates close? Hundreds of years ago? Ten? Who fell first, whose side are the ogres on, what’s the timeline?”
Rye didn’t grace Elia’s questions with more than a nervous sound that could have implied anything. She swallowed hard and after heavy deliberation decided to address the other divinity.
I greet Wroti, Our Red Sun. If all souls fair have departed from this place, let your mercy be swift and the dawn rise quickly.
They both waited for anything of note to happen.
This is the point where you sacrifice something to make sure the gods hear you.
“And what if I don’t want to be heard?”
Then you don’t blaspheme and swear within earshot of any symbol or statue of the gods. Ergo, anywhere.
Elia grumbled again as Rye reached for a bone shard. She placed it on the altar where a colorful silk covering was frayed and filled with holes. The shard disappeared in a flash of green and for a moment, both of them stared ahead in mild shock.
You have donated a bone shard. Blessings of the sun upon you.
Elia calmly, ever so calmly breathed out. “Rye. That was an uncommon shard.”
I, I didn’t mean… don’t worry, they’ll certainly hear our voices now.
Elia cupped her hands into a funnel. “If you gods can hear me, I did not consent to that. You owe me half an uncommon shard.”
ELIA, have you learned nothin–
Their eyes were transfixed on a small scrap of paper floating down upon the altar. Elia looked up. Nothing but fine art, no divine ninja or anything. Before she could tell her to be careful, Rye was already reading the snippet of paper. It looked like chicken scratch, like all writing did that wasn’t conjured by her helpful smoke.
“What’s it’ say?”
Should’ve known you really couldn’t read empyrean. It says right here ‘As per the law of sacrifice, thy voice is heard. Offer two boons and thou shalt be rewarded with choice.’
She flipped the note over, but the other side was blank.
Weird. It doesn’t say what kind of choice. Remember when we talked about how sometimes people get boons they don’t like? Well, I believe this is a way to gain one you might.
“Except it takes two boons to get a single maybe-better one.” Elia scoffed. “What a rip-off.”
It wasn’t that expensive in my time. A few shards should have sufficed.
“Talk about inflation.” She hid her excitement behind a sneer. “We should take it.”
Really? I mean, two boons is a lot. Also, since when do you trust anything remotely divine?
“Ever since they put a noose around my wrist, I’ve been taking them a bit more seriously.” She rummaged around in her bag for twelve common shards before combining them and aiming the dice at one of the statue’s foreheads.
Oh. Grea–
It hit the armored statue in the forehead before bouncing off its hand and smacking Elia in the face, certainly not a coincidence. It landed without further pomp directly upon the altar and Elia goggled stupidly as it teetered between a gray and green symbol before falling on the latter.
You have gained a divine boon: [Body] Puukeira ancestry [Uncommon]
What an odd name for a boon. “Sheesh, I’ve never gotten so many uncommon boons from common shards before we met. You must be my lucky charm.”
Dawww, that’s so sweet.
Elia scratched her cheek as she read the boon, but its description left her entirely stumped.
[Body] Puukeira ancestry [Uncommon]
You are now a Puukeira.
“What the fuck is a Puukeira?”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Elia, what did we JUST talk about? We are literally standing in front of a grand altar! Watch. Your. Language.
“Fuck – I mean, shit, – uuugh, you can’t expect me to adapt so soon.” Elia groaned, scratching her cheek again as she felt nothing happen. “I mean, realistically, what are the gods gonna do, fuckin’ censor me? Shit, I mean – aagh!”
Her arm fizzled and her hand stared at her with a mock imitation of a mouth. All she needed were googly eyes and the sock puppet look would have been complete.
Oh look at me, I’m Elia and I think swearing is funny. Wah, wah, I’m such a baby, I have to be as crass and immature as can be.
“It’s hard breaking a habit!” Rye’s mockery was having the opposite of its desired effect as a smile bloomed on Elia’s face. “You can be pretty fuckin’ funny if you try.”
Oh noo~, what are the gods gonna do, smite me?
“Try me, I’ve lived through worse.”
Elia blew a raspberry. Her hand blew one back. And then it sprouted a tuft of fur.
“Uhh, Rye.” The fur expanded down her forearm. “THE FUCK IS A PUUKEIRA!?”
Uh, um… P-p-puukeira are towering, bipedal inhumans. They have four to six arms, a bifurcated prehensile tail and strong fur all across their body besides their faces.
“That sounds pretty cool actually.” With a body like that, climbing the rest of the castle would be a breeze. “Why inhuman though, isn’t that obvious with how they look?”
W-well, no, being human doesn’t imply a certain physique. The gods simply saw us and decided we would make a good tool of measurement, a good average. Being human for others is simply a determiner for whether a creature is smart enough to learn a language and communal enough to fit into society without doing too much harm. I-if you turn into an inhuman – gods know whoever wished for that must truly have been twisted – then besides becoming dumb as bricks, you’ll count as an animal before the law, which means people can legally hunt you, sell your pelt, or keep you as a pet.
“Oh.” Elia learned something new every day. She would rather not have. “Fuck.”
Fine motor control was the first to go, as nerves rewired, shrunk and grew into as of yet unusable clusters. Her feet could taste the floor as Elia stumbled around like she was drunk on embalming alcohol all over again. A nub of a tail was growing out of her backside, and the ominous itch around her shoulders and chest was getting hard to ignore. A short but dense carpet of fur pushed out her boots and crawled up beneath her sabatons. Claws followed from her twitching fingertips too, and her back cracked as bones and muscles deformed.
“FuCk waS TTHAA–“ Her voice got caught in her throat as something sharp twisted along its length, setting it down two octaves and giving it a rasping husk. “AAaaaaAT? SHiT, I SoUnD LiKe a ChAiN sMoKeR.”
Uh, um f–fudge, well, one last thing.
Elia felt something poking at her loincloth.
Puukeira are hermaphrodites.
… yeah, maybe she didn’t think this whole ‘full body transformation’ deal through enough. “I DoN’t wAn’T a PeNiS!”
I don’t wanna be inhuman! Elia, do something.
Elia collapsed onto the altar. Her knees were bending backwards and she was losing color vision rapidly.
ELIAAA HURRYYY!
As she lost the last vestiges of control over her limbs, her handy haze sprung up with a simple thought.
1 – [Soul] Psychometry [Uncommon] [Essence of Ego]
2 – [Sense] Weather sense [Common]
3 – [Body] Puukeira ancestry [Uncommon]
“sAcRiFiCe… [WeAtHeR sEnSe] aND… [PuUkEiRa AnCeStRy]…”
Nothing happened when something really should’ve. She was fairly certain that seeing smells was not how human bodies worked, but she could easily picture the form of Pascal bent over her, despite pressing her eyelids together. Spotting the rancid of whatever a stone-man sweat under his armpits and beneath his legs as well as the stains of metal dust and stone on his hands was as easy as looking through a diffuse mirror. For a moment, the stench of undeath grew overwhelming.
Elia puked.
E-Elia? Y-you have to follow the correct ritual, or else the gods won’t take you seriously. Can you hear me? Elia?
The voice knocked her back into the present. She blinked once, deliberately.
Say after me: ‘All things have a price,
“AlL tHiNgS HaVe A pRicE,”
… we offer our due sacrifice.’
“We OfFeR OuR… dUe sAcRiFiCe.”
The gods await your offering
“GiVe mE SoMeThInG uSeFuL.” Elia refrained from adding a frustrated ‘bitch’ at the end of it. It was a remarkable show of restraint.
And then there came an answer. Two voices rang inside her hollow mind, one like a distant inferno, the other quiet, a near whisper.
The Lady of the Hunt notes your sacrifice
Our Red Sun notes your sacrifice
Choose one of three boons:
[Sense/Mind] Arithmetic accuracy [Uncommon]
What comes up must come down and this realization is what divides the human from the animal. When throwing an object, you can predict its trajectory with near perfection. A stronger instinct increases target acquisition speed, stronger concentration increases acquisition distance.
[Body] Perfect parry [Common]
A warrior is not a warrior without a shield. When you parry a strike, gain greatly increased weight, strength and resilience for a brief moment.
[Sense] Nose for treasure [Common] [Empty Socket]
Much can be gained for the purpose of treasure; yet a nose one is born with. Valuable objects give off a particular smell you can recognize from a moderate distance. Value is subjective and limited by foreknowledge.
Elia watched the smoke form crisp and enthralling, near enchanting words as her body shrunk down, leaving her with wild, hip-length blonde hair and bushy brows as the only sign of her past metamorphosis.
It was funny how someone could imply wealth and power through something as simple as ethereal writing. Compared to the smooth bends and swirly finishes of this altar’s haze, hers had the same calligraphic expertise as a seventh grader’s powerpoint using comic sans.
Boon-wise Elia couldn’t complain, these were some good options.
Well, that was close. Do you believe in divine retribution now?
“Ugnfff. Myeh. Mliay. Zarbal. Zip-zorp.” She tasted the words on her tongue. “Let it be known that never have I regretted the consequences of my actions, except maybe today. These boons are a lot more fun when they give you scales and fire breath.”
… I’m not going to ask how many things and people you’ve lit on fire, voluntarily or otherwise. Though, now that danger has come and gone by I have to ask: How did it feel to have a… member?
“Of course, that’s what you’d be interested in.” She checked around, just to make sure it really did disappear and didn’t just fall off. “Any specific reason why you’re asking about that and not the claws, fur or tail?”
No, just curious how the experience feels from the other side. Have you never idly mused about such fantasies, what it would feel like to be a man for one day?
“What? No, no, nope.” And still Rye didn’t show an ounce of shame in her voice.
“Miss Rye-grain? Pray, are you alright?” Right, Pascal was still around. “You look perturbed.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Selecting a boon.” She waved him off, but he was stubbornly insistent on staying around. “Anyhow, can you see the boon stuff?”
“Hrmph.” He squinted, muttering to himself as Elia let herself flow off the altar like jelly. She’d rather not be mistaken as an offering. “They're all useless.”
“What are you on?” Elia scoffed. “No, they’re all great.”
“... for smithing,” Pascal said and after much assurance walked back to his cold furnace.
A-and there’s even an uncommon. You really ought to thank the gods for their generosity.
“Thanks Valti, thanks Wroti! You’re my B’s.” Elia yelled to the immediate exasperation of Rye. It was a fun distraction as always, getting her to gripe and moan about whatever faux pax she committed this time. As a welcome side effect, it appeared to liven her up, to blur the memory of recent trauma. Elia would have killed to have someone like her watching over herself when she first came to this world. Then again, she wasn’t sure she would have appreciated herself at the time.
Odd how things changed, people too. Rye was coming around to seeing the necessity in violence, that much was certain.
Elia eyed the choice of boons again. None of them were bad, but what did she need now, what later? The knights up top were still terribly dangerous due to size, equipment, boons, and remembered training from their alive days.
“[Arithmetic Accuracy] sounds good, really good. But I’m already plenty perfect with my throwing knives and I’ve got something else to make long range accuracy somewhat superfluous.”
That would be?
“You.”
“Me?” Pascal asked.
“No, old man, my invisible friend.”
“Oh.” The man scratched his beard. “Are they a good friend?”
He believed her just like that, no doubt, no judgment. Refreshing. “Oh, she’s plenty annoying, and whiny, entitled–“
Heyyy…
“… but she’s kind, thoughtful and honestly, I’d be in a worse place without her. As you said, so much stone around makes the mind go places.”
If Elia had to guess, Rye was making her best impression of a cherry. A vague part of that feeling crossed the immaterial boundary between the two. It was nice, distracting her from the noise her legs were making as the last pieces realigned themselves with the rest of her body. “As for the other two, [Nose for treasure] sounds like it’s exactly down my lane.”
“A good boon for thieves,” Pascal chuckled.
T-that is true! You enjoy nicking whatever isn’t nailed to the floor. But let me guess… you won’t take it either.
“Nope, though I am pretty sure we wouldn’t miss any loot if we combine that boon with my own impeccable instincts and if I just possessed your – my invisible friend’s – nose, we could take advantage of it while she’s in control too.”
Rye sounded nervous.
I… sorry, but I think it would be for the best if you were in control for the near future.
“Works for me.” Without the ability to go back to Crossroad Temple for R&R, they’d have to take turns taking breaks anyways. “Which brings me to [Perfect parry]. It doesn’t specify that I need a shield, it scales off of our best stat and if I read this right, I’ll turn into an immovable mountain for a split second while parrying. Nobody would expect that from someone our size and I’m confident in my parrying skills.”
As a last bit that was too loose for argument, it seemed like the one with most uncleanly defined limits. Maybe she could parry her own strikes. Maybe she could just fall over and parry the ground before she hit it. Parrying was quite a niche skill when compared to all the ones needed in life, so that ought to at least increase the boost despite it only being a common. If it was really useful, she could plunge the depths of its applications for years, though nobody was under any illusion that she’d be allowed to keep it for that long.
Well, it’s your choice.
“That, my dear brain bud, it is.”
You have gained a divine boon: Perfect parry [Common]
[Body] Perfect Parry [Common]
A shield is the first weapon a warrior picks up. When you parry a strike, your body gains weight, tenacity and strength for a brief moment.
The boon settled in her chest and Elia knew it was the right call. Revenge seemed almost graspable, but the demon could wait.
“Alright, I’ve decided.” Elia stretched left and right until her joints popped. “Imma go distribute the atoms of that stupid smiling knight between here and Wisconsin and see what else this place has in store for me. And then I’m gonna beat it.”
In the corner of her eye, the man smirked. “Ambition suites young blood, and an undead doubly so. You may call upon my services, let me sharpen steel while you steel your resolve.”
“Right you are.” And for her ambitions, a risk seemed only right. “We can’t trade shards or spend our souls until we finish this oath quest, sooo...”
You have fused: Bone shard [Uncommon] x10 into Bones of Boons [Uncommon] x1
Elia grasped the dice. “You better listen, gods above. I’ve got important stuff to do and I can’t have you sending me magical scraps and leftovers anymore.”
Respect, Elia, you must show respe–
The die landed, didn’t even bounce once, glowing gray on gray like the gods wished specifically for Elia to fail.
You have gained–
[Body] Cutting Cutlery [Common] [Empty Socket x3]
In service to a lord with great taste, you have toiled your life to refine both palate and plate. You gain an uncanny proficiency with kitchen utensils and they may never grow dull or crack.
Three whole sockets! That’s good at least, right? Right?
Elia had never once cooked in her life. But someone had and here was their life’s work, ready to be wasted upon the altar of present needs. Though as her eyes flew over the description again and again, her scowl lessened, then reversed into a cheshire grin.
“Does it say kitchen stuff can’t break? Like, at all?”
Oh, you don’t know how much my mum would have paid to get this. It’s the perfect boon for every mistress with a growing brood to feed, or for her own butchering needs. Elia? Don’t be angry, please, it’s ok. It’s not something a warrior would want, but–
“No,” Elia said, stepping up to the door that led back outside, “it’s perfect.”
Or it would be once she was done with it. She looked over her shoulders at the carver-singer-smith and tossed him her petal knife for sharpening.
“You probably got all kinds of weird requests over your unspecified-but-long lifetime,” Elia said, grinning. “But I have to ask: How much can you sharpen a spoon?”