Day 39
Vincent Salvador
Watching the raiding party leave in a flash of blue lighting was a bitter sight for him. The swordsman acknowledged the logic of him having to stay behind, even accepting where the blame lies. Neither fact soothed his irritation an ounce. He simply did not like being left behind and definitely despised being denied an opportunity to utilize his swordsmanship. Of course, that dedicated mindset had led directly to his current predicament. Floating through solid teams and half-formed parties had landed him squarely without any regular teammates. Unattached. Alone.
Vincent felt dissatisfied with himself. Finding this to be a very uncomfortable position to be in. Completely distorting his usual quick decisions. Diving into training was his normal answer to unpleasant things. When opportunities were lost, mistakes made, and every flavor of disappointment, those were worked away with sweat and effort. The swordsman’s instinct was to do just that, but he frowned. That was just a form of running away if he was honest.
It didn’t feel like that would help anything this time.
Damnit, growled Vincent. Swinging my sword till my arms give out isn’t going to fix anything. Doing just that was what got me on this island in the first place. Only people I know beyond the ring are Council members and they’re all in their own parties. So busy exploring my own swordsmanship I ignored everyone on any real level. Again. Shit…
He looked around him, hoping the answer was outside since it clearly wasn’t inside. The impulse to pour all thought into a sword was still far too appealing. Yet, Vincent noticed that he wasn’t alone after all. Others were standing in close proximity to him. They stared at the teleporter with a spectrum of expressions. Some were anxious and others had a bitter frown that was no doubt on his own face. They wanted the same thing. He wasn’t alone.
The obvious plan finally popped into his head. Today was a wash, but that didn’t mean tomorrow or the next was out of the question. Hadn’t Molly done the same? Sneakily preparing her own party during the break? There wasn’t any reason Vincent couldn’t do the same he decided. He grinned and began measuring who was left. Starting with the most eager those that were gathered already.
The archer Vihaan and the acolyte Russel were automatically in the moment the swordsman realized they were free agents too. The former’s blazing arrows had made quite the impression and the latter’s earth magic spoke volumes of their own value. Those two plus him, would make a wonderful core to any party. Additional members wouldn’t be an issue. Their alliance would bring them in.
One step and a thought broke through the momentum of planning.
I am ready to be a leader?
Vincent stumbled on the second step and came to a wobbly stop. He turned inwards to consider the question. It was self-evident that if he proceeded to ask those two to join him then that’s exactly what would happen. Perhaps not forever is someone proved more able or willing, but definitely in the beginning. The swordsman had to ask himself again if he was ready for that. To not lose himself in the spirit of battle, but to concern himself always with the rest of his party.
There wasn’t any question to Vincent that he would rise to that quality. If he was to become a leader, then the swordsman would do it the right way.
I did before, didn't I? he reflected. When I fought the Titan, I chose what was best for everyone rather than my own glory. That means I do have the capacity to care… and maybe to do a good job leading someone.
For some, the concept of caring for others wasn’t something to thoughtfully juggle. Compassion and the desire to see others excel were innate. Just simply how one was supposed to feel about each other. Vincent had cared about people, it was never a question of if he was capable. Many lovers and friends passed through his life. The swordsman could genuinely say that they mattered to him. Mourned the loss of most of them too. Missed them when choices sent everyone down separate paths.
But, he knew himself to be a selfish person. Not abusive or believing others existed for his pleasure.
Simply put, he was a very self-involved person. To Vincent, life was about the sword and every decision served that iron purpose. The swordsman, often to his shame, saw being social only as a living necessity. A thing to check off a list. Like water and food, it was important to balance every day with personable interactions.
Arguably an insanity, but that was him. Vincent offered no excuse and wouldn’t argue against such an accusation. The swordsman would point out he had lived in the manner of his own way and loved every moment of it. Even the shame was more a flutter of social pressure than anything deep-seated. The sword was life. That was all.
He wasn’t sure anything had changed. Forming the party was ultimately a means to an end. Seeking the way forward to ever strengthen his blade. Yet, Vincent acknowledged that taking on a leadership position would mean more. Being on the Council hadn’t been a choice. That formed around him like sudden walls rising into a trap. An obligation that let him see where things were steering. It was preferable if his involvement there stayed minimal.
Of course, in the party, that wouldn’t be an option. Starting it was claiming responsibility. Sealing the team to his future forever. Vincent would be the go-to for judgments and there were no guarantees he would have the opportunity to pass any power to someone else. This was a mantle that very likely could never be put down. People’s lives would be dependent on him. This couldn’t be just about the sword. This couldn’t be that he wasn’t willing to wait until someone else organized a team. It could not only be about him. This mattered beyond the sword. The swordsman had to be serious in caring. Not just taking relationships as they came. Compassion, respect, and involvement. That would be his life, by asking and starting a party.
So once again, that swordsman asked himself if he was ready to be a leader.
“Yes!” said Vincent as he straightened up and got moving again. “And a damn sharp one!”
Malachi Armstrong
At the teleporter, the leader of the Sixty almost turned around and told everyone to take another day off. His stomach gurgled as anxiety vibrated in his skull. It was a familiar experience. One he had many times before going somewhere new, but an urge that was rarely listened to. Just nerves to brush past. Malachi entered, pressed the only option up, and kept the sickly feeling from overriding what he really wanted. An old process that was easy to enact while still requiring a force of will despite the repetition.
The blue lightning flowed and one place became another. Inspiring an odd sensation, like walking into another room without moving. He didn’t think it was anything like a Star Trek teleporter, scrambling matter and reassembling it. The vague sense Malachi got from his observations and Mana was that it was more of switching space. No doubt more complicated than that, but that idea smoothed the worries about being a new version of himself. It didn’t seem to be a life and death choice every time they used the device.
Anxiety spiked as the raid party entered the short hall. The sword acolyte used the decorated walls to steel his nerves. Eyes sticking to the painted parades rather than the golden doorway ahead. Putting one step in at a time knowing that once he was through into the second floor the pressure would fade. The nervousness never lasted once he was there. At the new place. This was just a small personal insanity that Malachi would forget about in the excitement of the day.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
A few more and then the Sixty entered the second floor. This time it wouldn’t be just a peek. They would take a look around. All the plans Malachi had been mulling over the last couple of days rose to the surface as the anxiety faded out of thought.
They walked down a canyon corridor, gray stone that looked like a dry river bed. Above them was foliage with light from yellow crystals shining down from the distant ceiling. The environment made Malachi feel like someone had taken a chunk of a stony forest and placed it inside a geode. Which was sorta the truth he guessed, a contained biosphere that was deep underground. Must be, this was only floor two of one hundred and there was plenty of upwards to go.
Malachi led the way, the raid group following behind two or three people thick across where the canyon allowed. Reuben had told them that straight ahead a little way there was a wide opening they could use to organize before spreading out. That the further paths wouldn’t allow everyone to stay together rankled the leader of the Sixty, but it was no good being too packed together. A certain amount of room was necessary to be effective fighters. Every terrain had its demands.
Their crevice of stone abruptly ended. The canyon didn’t slowly open up, but instead just beyond the exit was a large expanse of flat stone. Appeared naturally made, but seemed too perfect to be anything other than man-made. Opposite them, the flat area was bordered by a quick current river. White spray shot up constantly around the rocks and boulders that breached the water’s surface. Beyond that was another cliff with a forest atop it. To the left and right, the canyon extended in a wide curve that stopped short of the river. That left enough room for pathways that went up and down the river. There was a third path out of the open expanse by the way of a crude stairway carved where the canyon wall collapsed.
Everything was exactly as Reuben explained. Three narrow ways in which to explore the second floor. Another thing was that there didn't appear to be any monster signs. That was more concerning than something hulking. Tunnels were a pretty inhospitable environment yet the Ratsins made their presence known at the door. It was too peaceful. The roar of the water was the most substantial noise. Above came the sounds of living things, forest life going about their day. Leaves rustled and birds twittered. No roars or screams.
Malachi didn’t like it.
Still, there was nothing else to do, but get things moving along.
“Alright everyone, this is where we’ll be splitting ways,” said the sword acolyte. They moved deeper into the open area and closer to the river. Automatically drifting into their parties. “As always, safety first. Don’t take risks, there’s always tomorrow so no need to push things. We’re just looking to feel out the floor today, a little scouting in force. Keep an eye out for the Doorway, the sooner the requirements to pass through are known, the better. Otherwise, be observant and make note of what’s out there.”
“One hour, each team goes out for one hour! Then turn around and we all return here to share information. As arranged, the scouts will split up and aid one team each. My party and Molly’s will go downstream while Warner’s takes upstream. Phelian will take his people up the stairs back towards the entrance while up top and Roderick’s party will hold this area so we have a safe place to retreat too.”
“That’s right, the Coward’s Club has your back!” declared the man himself, grinning and posing heroically.
“Very reassuring,” mocked Clarissa.
“It is, isn't it? We’re the sort to hold our ground cause our knees are shaking too much to run. There’ll be a haven here, never fear! … and tea! We’ll make tea.”
The prime archer’s head cocked in confusion. “I… have no idea how to respond to that. Me? How…”
Nodding very gravely, Roderick offered, “Understandable. You’ve heard the rumors. I too was speechless when I drank Lamar’s tea for the first time. Quite extraordinary.”
The archer Lamar beside him spat, “Damnit Roderick, don’t build up expectations like that! I’ve never made tea in my life. Hell, we didn't even bring any!”
There was laughter from everyone as Roderick goggled at his teammate and said, “O’ my god! Did you forget the tea again?!”
“Fuck you dude!”
Chuckling himself, Malachi interrupted, “Alright, let's remember we're in unknown monster territory here. Everyone set the watches I gave you and head out. Let’s see what’s out there.”
It took the parties time to get sorted and then there was a chorus of technological beeps that cut through the natural sounds. Everyone turned towards their chosen paths when there was an arrhythmic splashing followed by the scraping of rock. The twist of his head and Malachi was looking at something with slick fur.
It was an otter in shape, though much larger than normal. Several people made sounds of adoration as the beast wriggled at the edge of the river to study them. The sword acolyte wasn’t feeling as appreciative, especially when three more popped onto the rocky shore.
Chirping at each other the creatures danced forward with their serpentine bodies. Guards were down so Malachi called for arms, but everyone was slow to respond. Many of his people looked confused between him and the cute display. Until the giant otters hissed and showed their needle-like teeth.
Two of the monsters darted forward in a blur and the other two held back as Mana surged around them. Pressurized water shot past the charging otters into the Sixty. There were shouts of pain and aggression from the rest of the raid party as the humans and monsters engaged. The leader of the Sixty trusted his people to deal with the other three monsters while he concentrated on the one. Four otters didn’t seem a party-wiping threat. Even giant ones shouldn’t be an issue.
Julia’s shield came up in time to block the pressurized shot, but the power threw the shieldmaiden back several feet before she caught herself. Water spatter from the stream stung Malachi’s skin as he rushed the casting beast. Calling electricity, the sword acolyte thrust forward. In a flash, the otter shifted to dodge. A retaliatory bite came for his returning arm that barely escaped the snapping of the jaws. The pressurized water’s integrity never wavered.
The spray sliced towards Malachi. He ducked and leaped to the side. The electrified blade slashed towards the otter again, but the monster’s body wiggled out of the way as before. Lines of electrical currents connected with the water slick beast, but it only amounted to a sting that did little if anything. The sword acolyte didn’t want to use a charge until he had an actual hit.
A green arrow streaked by his ear into the paw of the giant otter. A splatter of blood and the stream of water spurted. Malachi used the flinch to strike, but the skin proved tougher than expected. Ratsin flesh would have parted with ease. This species had an almost rubbery texture that deflected the blade. Lightning from the sword only had a mild effect. Shocking the beast enough for him to step back unharassed. He growled to see only a small unhindering cut left by his attack.
Julia charged passed and tackled the otter before it had a chance to restart the water spray. Shield pinned the squirming monster to the ground, though that status was going to be temporary. The noodly thing would escape eventually. Refusing to lose the current opportunity, Malachi called the wind. Air aided his aim and speed. The sword’s tip dove deep into the monster’s neck. Thunder clapped as the shieldmaiden retreated.
The crispy otter hissed in rage, its body lashing about to stand up. Slipping when the punctured paw gave out. Damian’s violet shards rained down on the crippled monster. Instead of becoming a pincushion, a large portion of the arcane projectiles shattered on contact. Once again proving the strength of the river creature’s skin. Apparently, it had magical resistance too. Though enough made their mark that it gave out a final gurgled chirp before collapsing.
Malachi wanted to step back and take a moment to reflect, but there wasn’t time for it. By the sound alone, he knew the battle wasn’t over. The view the leader of the Sixty turned to was just short of chaos. No one was down, but many bloody bite marks were apparent on people. The charging otters had slipped into the back lines. Striking and slithering away so that people were getting tangled up in each other in the chase. The other sprayer was moments from defeat, Zachariah had pushed forward with other shield bearers. Feinting with his spear, the huge man grabbed the creature by the neck. It wriggled and hissed ineffectively. Screams came from the back as three people were dragged up the cliff by tongues. Larger stone-colored lizards patiently reeling in their catches.
“Fuck surprises!” cursed Malachi. “Clarissa, Damien, cut our people free and help bring down those gecko things! Harken full buff everyone, clearly we need to take this more seriously. Julia, you’re with me, time for a weasel hunt.”
Digging into the silver Mana, the sword acolyte ordered the crowd to buddy up, back to back. Guarding each other made it harder for the otters to sneak attack. Carefully the Sixty shifted about to encircle the monsters. That narrowed their space to dart. Pinning them was a little easier with more hands. Archers and acolytes made sure the beasts didn’t have the breathing room to cast either. Reuben managed to surprise one from full cloak, diving on it and wrestling it with his daggers. Malachi saw in more than one eye the calculation that the ante had been raised. These monsters were tougher and more agile.
The geckos proved to be less threatening than annoying. Slow moving, they made easy targets for Clarissa and Damien. Other than feeling embarrassed and gross the would-be victims were fine once cut free. Everyone would learn to eye the cliff walls with a little more suspicion. With the monsters down, the raid party fell easily into clean-up. Wounds were healed, leaders checked their people’s state, and the cores were collected. The ambush had been a little shake-up, but no one wanted to call it quits.
“Now that we’ve had a warm-up, let’s take a look around,” said Malachi. He felt unedge, but unwilling to stop their progress. The danger was never going away.
Each party moved to go down their designated routes.