Dainin woke feeling a little itchy. Farming village, he thought with a yawn. Everything is probably a little rough and dirty. He raised his hand in the air, looking at the bruising on the back of it. My aura is darker. His eyes got wider, and his heart beat a little quicker as he stared intently. Yes, he had definitely grown in strength. He had been close to lavender, but his aura had deepened to something much closer to lilac or amethyst even.

I guess fighting off that forest-god was a lot bigger deal than I realized. He took a deep breath, and he took a look at his various blessings.

Three abilities were already familiar to him.

Chaos Bow, colored a solid plum-purple, giving him room to grow his skills, but showing he was already quite good at it. It was what allowed him to summon the bow and try to fight the forest god.

Blade of Unusual Chance, colored lilac, similar to his aura now. He tended to rely on his sword less than his bow, but it was based out of a bracelet that he wore around his wrist, the gem on it would allow him to summon a purple-steel blade.

First Knight of Chaos with no color to it, possibly because there was no one yet to compare it to. It conferred on him the right to wear the regalia of his Goddess and was the “class” others would see when looking at him.

These abilities had been hard-earned, particularly the last one, which was not awarded until he had passed the strict standards of the paladins that kept the peace across the world for Ninanya. He didn’t know what to make of having five more after one moment felt like a lot.

He took a deep breath and looked at them, all of them pale purple, nearly colorless since they were new: Rag Doll, Indomitable Lion, Scurrying Mouse, Nature-God Slayer, Hero of the Farmer.

He took a deep breath, and he decided to start with one that looked a little less like sass. The female voice spoke as he focused on it. Nature-God Slayer. Uh, congratulations? Well, on the one hand, the aura of death now clings to you, and animals will sense it. On the other hand, they will definitely treat you with respect.

He sighed, well, that gave him mixed feelings. An aura of death around animals? He shook his head. Next.

Rag Doll! The next time you get shaken and/or tossed through the air, you will not dislocate joints and will be more resilient! The tease and enthusiasm in the voice made him sigh. Next time he went flying? He had no plans whatsoever to do that.

Scurrying Mouse. You will go faster the next time you try to outrun something bigger than you. He frowned. Just how was he supposed to level that up anyway? Did she think he wanted to get into any more fights with things bigger than him? He was plenty beat up; he promised he had learned his lesson.

He breathed out. Please let Indomitable Lion be something nice. He hesitated between it and the Hero of the Farmer, but focused on it.

Indomitable lion. You are the master of your fears, and you will be able to stand your ground against pressure. He wondered if it was only metaphysical pressure or if he would find he was more sturdy in general. It would be a rather Mysteera-like thing to do either way, he felt.

Finally, Hero of the Farmer. Your good deeds have helped you to stand out among the common and rural folk, and they will do their best to show you kindness.

He breathed out, smiling a little lopsidedly. He did not hang out with too many people that fit that description except when traveling. To have two skills that people outside the different faiths could sense was actually pretty amazing, but they were so specific, he was not sure what to make of them.

He slowly sat up, coming downstairs. The old lady of the house greeted him, “Hello, my dear! The men found that beast you killed, did you really do that all by yourself?” She approached, getting quite close to him. He resisted leaning back.

“Mysteera was with me, and I could not have done it otherwise,” he said.

She got a hold of his hand, and in a very patronizing tone, “Of course, of course, dear. I have made you breakfast. Phillip should just about be done patchin’ your armor. How long will you be with us?”

Thanks to the work of the healer, I am only stiff. He tested it by shrugging his shoulder as the old woman navigated him to a seat at their little table. “I have a letter to get to Corian, so I will need to set out soon.” The breakfast she put in front of him was pretty magnificent considering what would have been available. Two fried eggs, freshly made fried scones, and a cut of ham. “This is a lot, here, let me pay you,” he began to dig into his belt pouches, but she put her hand on his shoulder.

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“No no, my dear. You saved more than half the cattle and who knows how many lives. Please, accept the small gifts we can give, yes?”

He blushed. Hero of the Farmer indeed.

The breakfast was delicious. The patch on his armor was rough, but it was functional now. He could get it better done in the city, but it didn’t catch on anything or pinch anything as he moved his stiff shoulder. They gave him more supplies for his journey, and they promised to dedicate the rebuilt portion of the town to him on his very own placard. He felt extremely embarrassed and pleased all at once, and it was a little bit of a relief to escape them. Elene waved at him brightly as he left.

The journey took him two days because he was stiff enough that taking it slow was preferable to him. It was quiet, but, it provided the time needed for his body to recover. By the time he reached the western gates of Corian, the only aches he had was from extended riding.

The guards at that gate recognized him by the religious symbols on his armor and did not stop him as he entered. Still, there was tension or oddness in the air that he could not quite place, but made him nervous. Maybe it was the wet from the sea he could both see and smell, or the way the clouds cast everything in a half-gray and half-gold light; maybe it was a premonition of things to come, but as he passed the gate, there was just a pervading feeling things not being quite right.

The stonework is newer on parts of this wall? He thought once he was inside. He could see a lot of cracks that were still being worked on, there were mages moving along the length of the wall actively trying to fix it. What happened here?

Oberon kept walking forward as Dainin gawked, the damage was extensive; it extended dozens of feet down the wall and to the houses that were near it. “Hey, Servant of the Thief Goddess!” called a surly-looking man who was ripping out damaged shingles from a roof above him. “You a pirate?” He menacingly tapped the back of the hammer against his shoulder.

“No, a knight, not a pirate,” he called up, frowning a little. “What happened?”

“What business is it of yours? You’re an elf, ain’t ya?”

He finally caught on. “I am not a sea-elf. I am not a pirate.” The man stared down at him in a way that suggested the man did not care particularly. Dainin sighed. “What happened here?”

“Got robbed by a dragon,” he said, going back to ripping up shingles. “Better keep that religious symbol where everyone can see it,” he advised gruffly. “We kill pirates.”

Dainin almost thanked the man and realized it was probably pointless. They didn’t care what kind of elf he was, they just knew that they liked to kill them. The swirled symbol of Mysteera was obvious on his chest, and it was on the back of each gauntlet so he was not worried. I wonder what was here that a dragon wanted? Was it here hours ago? Or days ago? It was hard to tell.

Well, whatever, I am just here to deliver this letter. I don’t have to stay here if I do not wish to after that. He navigated Oberon through the streets, meeting the eyes of anyone who looked at him and smiling; he noticed there were lingering looks at his armor, at the quality of his saddle, and he had a small impression that the town was… perhaps, not quite poor, but there was a desperation and furtiveness to it all that didn’t feel quite right to him. There was also a whole lot of looking at the side of his head, at his elven ears.

He examined the buildings that he passed; the ones near the gate were definitely showing signs of decay, plaster flaked off of exposed walls, and chunks of thatch and shingle were obvious in the streets from crumbling rooftops.

Yet, if he looked up, she could see the bright temple to Aurell, standing proud and tall and lavish near the town center, where the buildings were taller and seemed to be made of brick and terracotta. It was different than he was used to in the bigger city - this obvious stratification of wealth with so much poorness.

I suppose to be fair that in that farming village we were just in, everyone was poor. Back home, the division in the city between poor and rich is less blatant. There were still poor districts though.

Surprisingly, when he reached Aurell’s temple, there was a big hole in the ceiling. Priests were scurrying about, and he was not sure whether this was a bad time to approach them or not. “What do we do? How do we tell Panopoly that we lost their artifact? Are we about to be cursed by CHAOS?”

“Quiet. Did you not notice we have a guest?” someone else hissed.

Dainin realized he was that guest as half a dozen eyes turned to stare at him, and then sneer as they looked at his ears. “Yes, hello. I am Dainin Suris,” he said uncertainly.

“We can all see that,” said a man with a lot of gray in his beard at the front of the room. Chandler, High Priest of Aurell, Guardian of Ocean City, Corian.

Dainin flushed but bowed. “Mysteera’s artifact was stolen?” he clarified.

“An amulet, yes. It shows her favor for our city. It was brought here from Panopoly. You know of it, yes?”

Dainin did know of it. The amulet could be used to summon Mysteera to a temple and have a direct audience with the goddess. That a dragon had it was not ideal. The fear that wrathful chaos would visit this town might not be too far off.

“We had befriended a blue dragon by the name of Kriseya. She was considering becoming a protector of the city and ships; we have been suffering from a pirate problem. The thieving dragon fought her and put out her eyes.”

He stopped talking, tilting his head and looking into the air. “I see. Aurell has requested that I ask you to confront the dragon and attempt to retrieve the amulet. I am to reward you if you succeed.”

Dainin felt like his whole frame got heavier and he looked up at the ceiling. I didn’t need an immediate opportunity to practice my skills! He thought at his Goddess. “I am sorry I rejected your earlier request!” he tried calling out.

Everyone stared, but all he got in answer was purple words and a female voice, New Quest: Confront and punish the Dragon Path. He raised his hand, considering rejecting the quest. He barely survived fighting a forest god. And even though he grew, how was he supposed to fight a dragon? Weren’t they a hundred times worse? But as his hand hovered in the air, Failure or rejection of this quest… and where it was usually delineated exactly what would happen, it just trailed off.

He shivered and lowered his hand.

The priest was looking at him, “Good luck. I hope you have experience fighting big things, unusual Knight of Fortune.”

Dainin made himself smile and not glower.