The sun left its stray lights on me as it had once before, only this time I couldn't move my head to look away. My arms had stiffened, feeling practically absent from my control. I could hear the rushing river behind me, lashing out against the bit of land I was on. I squinted and tried to look around, coming face to face with a small satchel woven of fine white silk threads and golden buckles guarding its pockets.

"You've woken."

My eyes left the regal bag finding a man even more illustrious. He had a long face, and even longer ears. Bright blonde hair draped to his shoulders, but was parted in the middle, slicked back like the tresses, only, to his neck. His ears curved like boomerangs and extended larger than any elf I had ever seen. His skin was pale as the white sand beneath me and his eyes were greener than fresh grass.

"W-who are you?" I asked, trying to lift myself from the ground, my throat scratchy and my lungs pained.

"Jah'Ir, though let's keep our formalities to a minimum, you're about to go through parlous pain," he sighed, "even with the numbing."

I tried shaking my head. "Wha--mmph!"

He shoved a cloth in my mouth. "Bite down. Trust me."

I merely held it until the world became a bleak red. It roared with an intense weight that tore my chest asunder, my ribs felt like they were splinting. My jaw clenched and I felt the world's grasp on me vanish. I had been set free, remaining a construct in the abyss, I was fading, but I refused. My eyes shot open, seeing the red aura still there. The pain struck in pairs, quick successive needles in my lungs and throat. A sickly green spooled into the red, coating it in a film of mucus and gunk. The aura faded, taking the gunk with it. My jaw relaxed and I breathed the hardest and longest I ever had, spitting out the cloth in the process. Every time I managed to swallow, phlegm would block my throat.

I coughed. But as I regained my composure it was the lightest I had ever felt. My ribs were strong, my lungs healthy, the area I had been bit was spotless. No pain. I smiled, looking up to the elven man. "You're a mage?"

"Taught as one, yes. Most would consider me a wizard, though wizardry is of the nobility, the mercenaries who pick clean the lesser fortunate's pockets, though in dire need of help."

I struggled to my feet. "They taught you how to do this?" I pointed to my rib.

He threw a brown ragged robe. I quickly put it on, forgetting my exposed body.

Tattered Robes -- “It was all I could get! Outrageous, 2 gold for a cheap rag worth only a handful of copper!”

How ironic, however, that it would turn out to be the same one the hag had given me in Riptide.

"No," he said, "learned it during my travels. I was taught embers."

"Fire?"

He nodded. "What you humans call it, yes."

"The little pieces of burning wood and coal: we call that embers, sometimes the little particles that branch off flames too." We momentarily stared at each other. I averted my gaze and scratched my neck. "T-thanks for helping me... I was lost in the woods all day.”

He turned around. "Hard to believe you jumped in willingly."

"No." The ravine was a winding deathtrap. Even here, the water ran almost a blinding white, the frothing waves crashing. "I ran into a spider den, found myself on the end of a couple hundred of em. Thought I was free when I slipped out of my cloak, but one charged me off the cliff."

He nodded, his eyes narrowing. "You know where this nest is?"

"Not like, pinpointed." I pointed towards the stream. "If you follow the coastline or whatever its called, you'll find it eventually."

"Good, we're going back." He turned and trekked up the bank.

"W-what?" I caught up to him. "No, wait. I mean, I'm hungry and thirsty as it is. Fuck, I almost died three times, can't you take me to a nearby town or something?"

He sucked his teeth and pulled a box from his pocket. "Sit." I did. It was a small wicker basket. He sat it on the ground and stared at it. I glanced back and forth, expecting a dramatic flash or something, but he was still. The sash from his green tunic waved in the wind.

"What uh--"

"Put your hand on the box," he said, his eyes closed.

I did as he said and felt the cube in my palm, a familiar pull of energy tugging at me. Like Grave Feeling, I let the energy flow into it. The box began to grow, I pulled my hand back. "Why did I have to do it?" I was confused, but I wanted to be annoyed.

"And what kind of mage are you?" His eyes pierced my own.

I felt an instinctive reservation. Telling him I was a necromancer was a no-go. Even if the rules differentiated from Riptide, this world seemed to be running on similar properties. In any world, the idea of a person manipulating deceased, potentially familial, people was looked down upon.

"I'm not a mage," I said confidently. Admittedly the worst lie I could have said out of the thousand possible reasons turning in my brain.

"Yet you seamlessly transferred your mana."

I gave a haughty breath through my nostril. "Felt natural."

He dug through the wicker basket, handing me a half of a large sandwich. It looked decently made and, as I took a bite, tasted just the same: decent.

"Thanks." I couldn't help but think he hadn't accepted my answer. I had to be ready to run.

"I only ask," he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, "because wizardry is not a common skill one could just naturally fall into. Those who do have it, as I said before, are plagued by materialistic and phony ideals."

He was certainly passionate. I envied him. I took another bite and stopped, feeling a firm exterior, but a squishy and slimy interior. A tomato. I felt my tongue cry. I threw it to the river while he looked away. He himself was decimating the other half of the sandwich, covering his face and clothing in an unidentifiable sauce.

"Here." He poured a beverage.

It tasted sweet and lemony, with a small kick of carbonation. "Thank you," I said. He shrunk down the basket and collected himself. A blur covered him head to toe, then vanished, leaving him spotless. It was no wonder how he could afford to be so barbaric while eating.

He returned to the conversation at hand, requesting with resounding urge, for me to lead him to the spider den. I relented and, although he had healed me, I was still fatigued. I felt spry for a few moments as we walked, but my legs quickly forgot I had rested. I opened my character sheet and scrolled to my status, finding an informative label. I was tired.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I still expected too much. I jumped, seeing Jah'Ir look at me, though he only gave a quizzical glance. Either it was normal or he couldn't see it.

The suns had begun to part by the time we were at the crime scene. I couldn't begin to think of the implications held by such a movement.

"Oh! My cloak." It was still where I had discarded it, although now with a new fashion sense of nu homelessness. "My cloak," I turned around finding Jah'Ir at the mouth of the woods already investigating a peculiar formation of webbing. "Found my cloak!" He paid no attention, wrapping his fist in the loose threads.

I joined his side, kicking a dead spider at his feet. "Fuck you."

"That the one who birthed your gnarly gash?" he asked, his hand igniting.

"No clue, pinning the crime on it though."

The web incinerated, turning to dust. "You'd do well as a noble," he said.

"What?"

He turned around, hand covered in an orange hue. "How deep into the forest were you?"

"I started on the other side. All the way I guess."

He looked the landscape up and down, nodding to some unknown question and answer. "You'd do well to stay here. The results of my magic are pernicious and I'd rather not have to save you in the middl--"

"I get it," I walked towards the cliffside, resting beside a large boulder. "I'll stay here cap'n."

I watched until his pale form had become a dark veil and blended into the forest. I jumped off the rock, "Time to test this out." The default summon limit at level one was five. I switched out his cloak for mine, tattered as it was, the bonuses--if there--were still necessary.

I found a total of four spider carcasses outside the forest, two more in some of the bushes. I pushed them into a pile with my foot until they were all together. I grabbed the first one, a logwood spider that had a hole in its abdomen. I channeled the tendrils into its body, leading it through the heart and brain, resurrecting its physical form.

It struggled to stand. The hole on its abdomen shone green, a sizzling liquid running through it. It turned towards me. I instinctually held my arm up, ready to smack it away, but it seemed to be waiting. The eyes were dead black, empty.

I pointed at the boulder. It didn't move. I tried manipulating the strands of magic, and, while it did move, it was not moving of its own accord, I was dragging it along. Attack that rock I thought. It lunged, spooling out a net-sized web over it. It rammed its head into it over and over until I called it back.

I took to the other spiders, resurrecting them one by one. I held the sixth spider: a corpsewood. Its legs twitched one by one as I channeled my magic, my arms had weakened from the excessive use, but I kept on, cheered on by my still arachnid companions. You can do it!

"If only." I chuckled. "Come on."

Its eyes began to glow a hexagonal green and in a single move it was on its legs, fangs bared.

"Yes! Alright, how many more can I do?"

I sent my new spider companions up the trees to find potential new recruits. They returned with only small spiders the size of my hand, but it counted nonetheless.

As I explored the extent of my summoning I noticed a billowing cloud above the forest heading east. "Guess he found them," I said to Genta, the corpsewood spider. The air smelled of stinging lungs and watery eyes. I moved closer to the ravine.

I managed to get to thirteen spiders before I ran out. Overall, my arms were heavier than ever and my head was still recovering from the rollercoaster the vertigo had given me. I lined them all up, having 6 on each side except Genta, who I had on the rock next to me. It was like having a dog, only someone else's, not sure if its bared teeth were a sign to go away or just its natural face. I had the 12 other spiders face off, seeing what moves they had and how they fought. It was obvious from the get-go they were quick assassins. Webs slung across the battlefield, venom was shot out like bullets, I hid behind the rock.

I tried to infuse them all with Necrotic Rage, dreading the headache I was about to receive. It required a precise shot of magic and I only ended up amping up one of them, the lone logwood spider. Its hairy legs grew an extra plate of armor, the head and abdomen grew a thicker shell as well. It skittered quicker than all 11 others webbing them up in seconds. I tried to cut the fight short, but it had unleashed a venomous pool on the webbed spiders, turning them into goo.

"So that's how you do it..." I felt my stomach turn, the gentle reminder getting me back on track. I was down 11 spiders, but that was a relief. I disposed of the cocoons, having Genta and the logwood spider eat the remains.

The smoke had become more than just a column in the air, now forming its own deadly cloud above, blotting out one of the two suns. I pulled the mana from Genta and the logwood spider, their corpses falling to the ground with no resistance. I wasn't prepared to explain this to Jah'Ir. I opened my inventory. "Please work." I didn't want to toss Genta into the ravine, we'd been through so much already. I picked them both up, and the menu swallowed them, becoming still images of their species.

Corpsewood Spider -- An arachnid capable of killing any living object with a single drop of its venom. They can be found lurking in the forests of the ??? regions.

Logwood Spider -- An arachnid that sticks to high tree branches, their fangs are capable of breaking bones in one bite. They can be found lurking in the forests of the ??? regions.

Again, there were no stats.

I closed the menu and noticed an orange silhouette flickering in the woods, moving my way. I had no doubts he'd return. As he escaped the shadow of the forest I could see his once green tunic had become part of the night, being covered in soot head to toe.

"I find you a victor?"

"That you do." His aura pulsed, a breath of air cleansing him.

"Wish I could do that."

"Let's be off." He led the way this time.

"Is the forest, y'know, on fire?" I asked.

"Core, no. Are you serious?"

"Core?"

"Right, human." He looked up. "My ancestors were demons. Hunted down and cornered in the swamps of Athera they buried themselves in what is called the Core."

"Your parents are demons then?" I tried to tip-toe around the conversation, not showing any fear.

"No. That was thousands of years ago."

"Oh... okay. My people--well, I came from a small town. Not sure where or if it even exists anymore."

"So you’ve chosen the nomadic life?"

"Yeah." The longer we spoke, the more holes I could feel myself putting in this story. "I left years ago. Strangely enough, I don't remember how I ended up here. There was a throbbing pain in my head, then I was in the woods."

"Mages are known to settle their squabbles in rather paltry ways. Perhaps you had an altercation with one."

"Maybe."

We passed the riverbank, the white sands soaked with my blood. "Thanks again," I said.

"No need. Can't leave someone to die."

"You could." I chortled.

"But I will not."

The river seemed to bend the other way from which we walked. "Where are we headed anyway?" I asked, hoping to find a bed instead of the dirt tonight. I had enough sand and dirt on my hands and feet.

"Small town, Oarmouth, just over the hill. Small; quaint. Perfect for humans like yourself."

"I prefer bustling cities."

"Then you'll enjoy the tavern."

My heart chirped, hearing about the town. A lively tavern was just up my alley, hearing the passing tales of adventurers, the squabbles of drunks--I wasn't too keen on that--smelling wonderful dishes of meat and bread, stews and roasts. The lingering thoughts knocked, concerned. Riptide mixed time periods in their world, having medieval themes, but using technology from the Late Middle Ages and the Renaissance. I was weary that the town might show its differences and be more privy to the gritty darkness the Medieval period held instead. My questions were interrupted by the large thick wood wall in the distance.

The river we had abandoned earlier seemed to snake back around to meet us, slithering underneath a stone bridge that crossed to the walls. Jah'Ir and I crossed, coming to two armored guards in iron helmets and breastplates with some sort of chainmail mesh at their waists and joints. The pair both held halberds crossed in front of the gate.

"Jah'Ir!" The guards on the right perked up. They pulled their weapons apart, leaving it on the wall, breaking some sort of protocol. I was tempted to reach out and take it. "Were you successful?" he asked, I could make out his dirty blonde hair across his nose.

Jah'Ir raised a hand. "Now, Now, yes gentlemen, I have eradicated those fulsome spiders, but! me and my compatriot are quite weary from our travels." I waved at the two.

"Right away sir." The other guard picked up the halberd and tapped the gate. "Open gates!"

Jah'Ir gave me a deadpan smirk. "Shall we?”