Andy approached the warlock guild master. He was an average height, with an emaciated build. He wore leather armor and had several daggers and a scimitar around his waist. He was quite pale, and his white hair, only the top pulled back into a bun, reached down past his shoulders.
The plaque read: Antoine - Warlock - Drain.
"That was quite an impressive display," Antoine said. His voice was quiet, but he spoke with authority.
"Thank you," Andy responded.
"But strength alone won't get you very far as a warlock," Antoine said.
Andy didn't really want to be a warlock, he just wanted the Drain feat because it fit well with his other level 0 feats. But he decided he would play along.
"What does it take to be a warlock, exactly?" Andy asked.
"The desire to win by any means necessary," Antoine responded. "Even by methods some may find… objectionable."
Andy didn't like the vibe that Antoine was giving off, but he was going to hold his nose and get through this training.
Between the monk and fighter feats, he was already experiencing power like he'd never seen before. He was astonished how much new arrivals received, even at level 0.
But he needed the Drain feat in order to keep himself healthy in the midst of melee combat. Intercession required a long ritual, and it was difficult to eat food effectively during combat. Andy couldn't count on either of those healing strategies, and as a melee fighter, he expected to take frequent damage.
"Warlocks require a patron for their empowerment," Antoine said. "We don't study, we make deals. Pacts."
The warlock snapped his fingers and a grotesque imp appeared next to him, like a purple, veiny, hairless ape, flapping torn bat wings and drooling between razor-sharp teeth.
Andy felt a shudder coming on at the sight of the creature, but he suppressed it as best he could. He didn't want to display any weakness in front of the warlock.
"I happen to have connections to the world of devils," said Antoine. "The further you progress in the warlock class, the more power you'll receive. But it is not free power."
Antoine moved his collar down to reveal a brand on his neck. It looked like a trident.
"You need to know the cost," said Antoine.
Andy nodded. Antoine had only further confirmed his suspicion that he wouldn't enjoy the warlock class. But he wanted the feat.
"Can I learn the Drain feat?" Andy asked, trying to get to the point.
"You certainly can," Antoine said. "But there is a cost. There is always a cost with warlocks."
Andy's mind raced. There hadn't been any mention of that in the literature Tobo had supplied. Was this a trick?
"What's the cost?" he asked.
"Just a few drops of blood to feed my pet imp," said Antoine.
The hair stood up on Andy's neck. That did not feel right. No sir.
"None of the other classes require anything like this," Andy said, finally dropping the act. "What makes you and your imp so special?"
Andy felt a bit surprised at how directly he had spoken.
Antoine's eyes narrowed to a pair of slits.
Andy couldn't tell if it was hatred, or if Antoine was sizing him up.
"You speak boldly," Antoine said, allowing his eyes to return to a normal state. "To answer your question, warlocks are special. It is not a statement of value, it is a statement of fact. No other Cresthaven class requires being bound to an otherworldly patron."
"And so blood will bind me to your imp?" Andy asked.
Antoine shook his head and laughed, "No, it will feed him. This imp is nothing, a speck of a speck in the fiendish realm. No this imp is not a patron. This imp is simply my pet, who requires food. And if i'm going to give you a feat, the least you could do is feed my pet. It's an exchange, a transaction... the foundational truth of all pact magic: do something, get something in return."
"So if I give you a few drops of blood, your imp eats it, and I don't have any adverse consequences? I'm not bound by some sort of pact?"
"Well, there may be consequences that you view as adverse," Antoine said. "You may grow to love the power that is available to you, you decide that progressing in the warlock class is worth it after all. You may even end up serving a devil."
A wry smile came across Antoine's thin lips.
Is he trying to intimidate me? Andy thought.
Then Antoine's voice resounded in Andy's head:
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Andy felt a jolt in his body. He was getting similar vibes that he had gotten from the demon the day before. It didn't feel good. Was consorting with such a shady guild worth having an optimal build?
Andy reflected for a moment, trying to keep his thoughts vague. He concentrated on his nose, attempting to bring up his display, but he found he couldn't.
"How can you do that?" Andy said, finally frustrated enough to break his bluff. "How can you prevent me from thinking like that? Breaking my concentration?"
"Pact-magic has its perks," Antoine said.
Andy didn't care if Antoine was monitoring him, he needed to think through this. Things didn't seem right with him, but the feat was objectively a great choice. Tobo hadn't warned him about the warlock class or anything, but then again Tobo also hadn't warned him about the trial with the demon.
At the same time, there were other feats available. If he wanted to, Andy could walk away from this interaction. He could trust his gut. He could–
"Not feeling so good about the deal, are we?" Antoine said.
In truth, he wasn't feeling good about the deal. But he considered what it would mean to pass it up.
If he were to turn down the warlock feat, he'd be a burden to his party. He'd be in constant need of healing.
If he turned down Drain, he'd have less independence. He'd always need a healer by his side, which meant that it'd be much more dangerous to act on his own.
Maybe there were magic items or potions that would heal him, but Andy just didn't know enough about the world yet to count on it. All he could consider was what would be useful for the arena, without relying on any externalities.
He had to take the feat.
"I'll do it," Andy said.
"Very good," Antoine said, approaching Andy.
His slobbering imp flapped his wings and approached as well.
"Give me your finger," Antoine said.
Against everything in his body, Andy extended his hand.
Antoine produced a black dagger from his belt; it was slender, ceremonial, and wicked.
"This will only be a prick," he said.
Antoine pressed the dagger into Andy's pointer finger. He pressed it harder and harder, until the dagger tip penetrated the skin and blood began to pool around it.
Andy didn't flinch. At least he could endure this indignity stoically.
The blood flowed.
The imp eagerly flew under Andy's finger, catching the drops of blood that fell in its mouth.
Antoine guided Andy's finger into the Imp's mouth.
Christ almighty, I'm getting my finger sucked by an imp…
The imp clamped down around Andy's finger, sucking hard. Finally, it began to burn like acid.
Andy jerked his hand out of the imp's mouth instinctively, catching a sharp tooth on the way out.
The imp gave a few howling sounds that could've been frustration or laughter, it was too alien to interpret. Then, suddenly, it disappeared in a puff of smoke.
"He likes your flavor," Antoine said wryly. "Very well, he has been fed."
"This whole arrangement is very… sick," Andy said.
"You haven't seen anything yet, child," Antoine spat back with a laugh. "Now, your feat."
You learned Drain!
Andy equipped it.
"Activating it is quite simple," Antoine said. "You must simply feel contempt for your target, you must despise them. The more hatred that fuels you, the more vital energy you will siphon off. You may practice on me, if you'd like, since you aren't making a secret of your feelings toward me."
Andy paused.
"Go on, I can take it," Antoine said.
Andy let himself hate Antoine. He let himself picture ripping him apart with his great sword. As his anger boiled into loathing, he saw a small, green trail of energy begin to flow from Antoine's chest toward Andy's.
Finally, the green trail touched reached him.
As it made contact, there was a sparkling sensation of invigoration. He was actively healing.
The wound on his finger shut.
"Very good," Antoine said. "You are a quick learner."
"You're disgusting," Andy said. He was surprised at his words. In fact, he felt like it wasn't fully him who was speaking. The hatred was still swirling around in him, almost like an outside force influencing his thoughts and actions.
Andy spat at Antoine's feet.
He wasn't sure how much health he had siphoned off. It couldn't have been much, since Antoine looked almost unchanged. But Antoine probably had a much larger reserve of physical energy than Andy did.
"Don't get carried away," Antoine said.
"You're welcome," said Andy. "For the pet food."
He turned and walked away, without looking back at Antoine.
Andy did his best to ignore Antoine's voice as he continued to walk toward the center of the arena. But it had gotten under his skin.
He didn't know what had come over him. Somehow, the hatred that fueled the drain feat felt like it had changed him, even ever so slightly. It felt like it gave his anger and his impulses an edge that they had never had before.
Andy didn't know what to think.
He looked around at the arena. An explosion of purple flame popped off. Arlene was practicing Alchemy Bomb with the Alchemist guild master.
Kermit was summoning a small elemental with the sorcerer, laughing with delight as a sprite danced around him.
Things were going to be ok. But Andy couldn't shake the feeling that he had been somehow… contaminated.
Time to focus, Andy brought his mind back to the task at hand.
One more feat left, he thought. We'll get Wallop and then we'll be good to go.
Then he saw the Berserker guild master: Gar the Terrible stood behind his plaque, smiling menacingly at Andy.
Andy slung his great sword over his shoulder and exhaled. He approached the berserker.
It had already been a long day, and it was about to get longer.