Riley, unsurprisingly, did not sleep well that night. Despite the pain and fatigue in his body, the fear of more barrowmen rising from the snow left him too on edge to relax. And with yet more holes in the house, it was back to freezing bis backside off for the night.

Barrowmen, Arubis had said, were a somewhat common breed of undead. Those who died, rife with Rot in their bodies, were left to mutate into something no longer human, at which point Death could will them to rise agan. The plus side was that they were nocturnal. The downside was they were very good at blending in with their surroundings until the time came to emerge.

It was all too likely that the residents of the house had been menaced and slain by something abhorrent, and in death they had been remade into monsters of the Rot.

Each one had been worth 700 Essence. This, coupled with the Essence he’d steadily been gathering thus far, was enough to raise another stat. Silver linings and all that.

But what really caught Riley’s eye, after the sun had risen and his nerves had calmed, was the blade dropped by one of the barrowmen. He sat against the remnants of a ruined wall, inspecting the smoky black metal for several seconds.

Barrowman’s Shotel

A blade commonly wielded by barrowmen. Though short, it is exceptionally sharp and sturdy, able to cut into flesh and armour alike. Causes steady poison build up in enemies.

‘Rot and Death are the closest of siblings among the Avatars. Those slain by the former often rise again as agents of the latter, creating a terrifying cycle of death and plague.’

Riley weighed the blade in his hand. It certainly looked more professional than his hatchet. And the shotel’s damage rating ranked higher than the hatchet’s. But it felt awkward and heavy in his hand. He checked it again in his inventory, and noticed a small string of text taking shape beneath the description.

This weapon requires 15 Nimbleness to use effectively.

“Huh. I’m a point off, but... Seems a waste not to upgrade to something stronger than my current weapon.” He stroked the tip over a nearby brick, cutting a line straight through the stone. “Might as well get something out of this awful ordeal.”

He glanced over to Arubis as she made her way toward him. “Ah. Do you wish to raise your Nimbleness, then? You can afford that much, with your current Essence.”

“Yes, please.”

Arubis held a hand toward him and did so, siphoning a great chunk of the Essence he had gathered.

He gripped the shotel tighter and found that he could move it around with greater ease and swiftness. He flicked and rotated his wrist a few times.

Be mindful of that blade, emissary, Mesquard said, coming to a halt near Riley’s foot. It may not be radiating blight, like the man who used it, but it is still a tool born of evil.

“Yeah... admittedly, this won’t do me any favours when it comes to people thinking I’m evil.” Oh well. It was a simple fact of his life now, he supposed.

Riley sighed and rose to his feet. “I guess we should get a move on. Nothing else for us here.” Though he had learned the hard way that the world around him was far more dangerous at night. He helped Mesquard onto his shoulder before making his way through the nearest hole in the wall. The plan remained the same: Keep pressing westward.

But, as he stepped out onto the snow, he noticed Mesquard growing tense again. Something draws near. Hoofbeats, like a deer.

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“Shit,” Riley muttered, gripping the shotel tighter. “Might be nothing. Just... just another traveller, or something like that.” He took a few steps forward, and soon heard the pounding of hooves drawing closer and closer.

Arubis followed a few paces behind him, glancing to the horizon. Something appeared on the horizon, drawing closer and closer. The warm sunlight of the morning illuminated the figure as it drew closer. Two riders atop a sleek white steed.

The person holding the reins was adorned in silvery plates of armour, their head concealed by a great helm with a glowing orange plume on top. But, behind them, Riley quickly saw a woman adorned in the same robes as Arubis.

“Oh shoot,” Riley murmured. “Is that... another Warden?”

“It would appear so. It would be rare for one of my kin to travel with anyone else,” Arubis calmly replied.

“They’re... coming right for us. And... awfully fast too.”

The rider reached for the handle protruding above their right shoulder and swiftly unsheathed a worryingly long and broad blade. It gleamed brilliantly when the light struck it.

“Oh... shit! Shit!” Riley moved back as the rider leapt from the saddle with uncanny agility, an orange cloak fluttering behind them. Riley raised his hand to block an incoming swing, but the force of the impact swept his feet from under him and knocked him flat on his ass. In an instant the stranger was looming over him, raising their blade high overhead.

“Cultist wretch!”

“Wait wait wait, I’m not a cultist! I’m a Warden!” he shouted.

“It’s true, noble warrior! Please, stay your blade!”

The armoured figure looked to Arubis, their steed coming to a sudden halt only a few paces away from them. “An Oracle?” they murmured. Riley’s eyes widened. The voice echoing through the metal helmet sounded distinctly feminine.

“Y-yeah, she’s an Oracle! S-so cool your damn jets!”

“Cool my... oh. Yeah, that’s a saying on Earth. You’re the genuine article alright. My bad.” She moved to sheath her blade, holding an ironclad hand out for him to take. “It’s just, usually, anyone wearing those robes is bad news. Why in the hell are you dressed like a damn plague wizard?”

“It was the best class I had available,” Riley mumbled. He took her hand and gasped a the woman hoisted him clean to his feet as if he were a cloth doll.

“Shit, really? The Arbiter has a sick sense of humour,” the stranger muttered. “Do yourself a favour and get some new gear. You must be really new to all this.”

“I am. Only been here... shit I dunno. Two weeks? Thereabouts?” He paused and sheathed his shotel. A tingle of numbness still radiated down his wrist. The woman had a swing that could have cleaved through him like wet paper, if the metal of the shotel had been less sturdy. “How... long have you been here?”

The knight shrugged. “Little more than half a year, I guess. Kinda stopped keeping track after the first few months.” He reached over and lifted the visor, revealing a decently attractive, if somewhat broad, face. A thin bridge of freckles covered her nose and cheeks, and a few sweaty strands of golden hair framed the sides of her head. “Kim Anderson.”

“Riley Blake.” It was almost odd to casually exchange names with the person who nearly sliced him in two mere minutes ago. But after fighting a gang of zombies only last night, almost nothing was weird anymore.

At least, that was what he told himself.

The other Oracle wheeled the horse around, tugging the reins to a gentle halt. Getting a better look at the slim figure, Riley could tell that he had been mistaken in his initial impression: The other Oracle was a man, though he had a soft, feminine face, and silky golden hair.

“Kimberly... you really must stop flying off the handle like that,” he said, peering down at her with placid, serpentine eyes. “I told you that he had a kinsman with him, and someone like that was no lowly cultist of Aqar’Ghul.”

“You did?” she tilted her head slightly. “Huh. Guess I didn’t hear you. When Rudolph is moving like that, and the wind kicks up, it’s kind of hard to hear anything?”

Riley spared another glance to the white steed. “Uh... why Rudolph?” he asked.

“Oh he headbutted a bandit when I met him. Had a big red smear coating his whole snout.”

“Huh.” Riley cleared his throat and motioned to the Oracle behind him. “This is Arubis. She’s my Oracle, but you probably figured that much out already.”

“Nice to meet you. This is Iosef, my Oracle.”

The slim Oracle nodded politely. “Charmed.”

An awkward silence fell over the group. Riley examined the woman, paying particular attention to the expert craftsmanship of her armour, and the immensity of her sword. What did she have to do to get such exceptional gear?

Mesquard cleared his throat, poking his head from Riley’s front pocket.

“Oh! Right, shit. This is the only other member of our group: Mesquard?”

“Ha. Kind of cute, for a rat,” she said.

Cute? Cute?! Madame, I was a princeling of Fort Bane, and its sole survivor! I am a veteran mankiller! Don’t you dare- Kim brushed a metal finger gently over his head. Mesquard let out a happy groan, leaning into her touch.

Riley rolled his eyes behind the lenses of his mask. “Yeah. Really fierce, bud.”