“I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve been telling you,” Jorg said, adjusting his gauntlets. “She’s out of your reach, but she’s still alive, right? That means she must be out of whatever trouble came her way.”
Darian heard the paladin’s words, but the pit in his gut did not change. “You’re probably right,” he conceded. It had been over a full day since the XP notification appeared, but Fria was still listed as living on his companion screen.
“Even if I’m not, this isn’t the time to be distracted.” With a grunt, Jorg hefted up the massive shield. The surface was angular, and magic runes burned bright blue along the top and bottom rim. Each member of his strike team had been given a gift for the coming battle by Raphael, and Jorg’s was the Bastion Shield—a hunk of enchanted steel that significantly boosted the physical and magical defense of the person who wielded it.
“Again, you’re probably right.” Darian leaned against the cold stone wall. They were in an armory nearby the fey portals waiting for Raphael. His army, led by his companion Zander, had left hours ago. Darian still wasn’t sure how they planned on drawing the Lich Cult’s forces out of the fort, but he would find out soon.
The orc warrior Yazliar stood beside the door, his gargantuan sword propped up beside him. Raphael had attempted to gift him an enchanted blade, but he’d refused. Apparently, his current weapon was not enchanted or enhanced in any way. But the orc also refused any other magic items the God of Seasons attempted to provide. He also refused to wear proper armor, deciding to stay clothed in only his boots, pants, and leather vest.
Speaking of armor.
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Night Lord’s Mail
* Protection: Greater
* Damage Resistance: This armor provides additional damage resistance to (Holy) and (Fire) attacks.
* Progenitor: This armor provides a (moderate) boost to the physical defense and physical attack of all undead within (100) feet of the wearer. If these undead are vampires, this bonus is tripled.
* Blood Arts: All skills and abilities that use blood can be used an infinite number of times per day. Additionally, these skills are more powerful.
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The armor he received for completing his racial quest was weightless and form fitting. The material was black and soft to the touch, almost silky, but somehow sturdy enough to deflect attacks. Everything except his head was covered by the flowing armor, the ends of which appeared tattered, the cloth ripped as if claws had been raked through them. His chest was covered by rings of dark mail and where the only part of the outfit that looked like traditional armor.
I’m starting to look the part, I suppose.
Darian looked over his class skills next, doing whatever he could to keep his mind off Fria and the coming battle.
So many skills, he thought looking over the selection. Many of them had become nearly useless as the enemies he faced grew stronger and stronger. But he would use his Divine Essence after he unlocked the [Blood Knight] class. That way he could put his early points from mage into the advanced class, unlocking its potential right away. His racial skills had at least remained useful. And I have some new ones.
His skill [Minor Transformation] which allowed him to shape parts of his body into that of a wolf or bat had evolved into [Major Transformation]. This new skill allowed him to completely transform his body into a dire wolf or a giant bat. Useful if he ever needed a quick getaway.
Another of his skills, [Vampiric Charm] had evolved into the skill [Vampiric Seduction]. His new version of the ability allowed him to completely manipulate the minds of any living creature that looked into his eyes. While [Vampiric Charm] only allowed the subtle manipulation of disposition, the upgraded version was capable of anything just short of complete mind control. And after he reached race level eight, the skill would evolve into [Vampiric Domination].
His race level had also boosted all his physical attributes, giving him fifteen points in strength, dexterity, and constitution. His arcane stat, which governed his aptitude with magic, had not increased. And neither had his fortitude, which provided defense against magical attacks.
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Attributes
* Strength: 53
* Dexterity: 62
* Constitution: 42
* Perception: 51
* Fortitude: 21
* Arcane: 33
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But he’d also gained two new skills, one from his quest and another from his race level.
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Vampiric Bloodlines
This divine ability allows the user to create five bloodline progenitors. These vampires will have their race level immediately brought to level (4) and have the ability to reach race level (6). Progenitors will receive a set of skills unique to their bloodline. All vampires progenitors create will receive lesser versions of these unique skills.
The bloodlines will focus on the following:
* Martial Bloodline: Physical skills and battle tactics.
* Arcane Bloodline: Magic skills and mystical defense.
* Shadow Bloodline: Subterfuge and manipulation.
* Bestial Bloodline: Transformations and raw power.
* Chaos Bloodline: Evolution and stagnation.
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Sovereign
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Skill type: Passive
* All vampires you create will start at race level (2).
* All vampires within your line of sight must obey any and all commands given to them. This skill cannot be resisted under any circumstances.
* Kills made by fellow vampires within (50) feet will generate a small amount of XP for you.
* Blood consumed by vampires within (50) feet will restore a small amount of your HP.
Skill will evolve into [Immortal Sovereign] at race level (8).
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Even though Darian didn’t necessarily want to, his skills were pushing him to create more vampires. And not a day has gone by that I haven’t worried about Fria’s village. And while he could now control vampires around him, what would happen when they started making vampires of their own? If he wasn’t careful, Lonelen and the rest of the world would have bigger problems than a demonic invasion.
“Are you well?” Lucia asked, adjusting the quiver at her hip.
Darian shrugged.
“Nerves,” Jorg said, clapping Darian on the shoulder. “The boy can get a bit dour before a battle.”
“There is nothing to fear.” Lucia plucked at the string of her longbow. “Lady Almeda will be with us and Zander will be leading the assault on the fort. Between the two of them, we will be safe.”
Yazliar grunted. “Safe? No such thing on the battlefield.” He lumbered closer, his massive blade slung over his shoulder. He glared at Darian, his lips curling in disgust. “Don’t coddle the bloodsucker. It won’t do him any good.”
Darian’s race level had increased his thirst for blood. To ensure he didn’t lose himself in the upcoming fights, he’d filled up on animal blood prior to arriving at the armory. But in his distracted state, he didn’t completely wipe the blood from his mouth.
“He’s right,” Darian said, rising to his feet. “And there is no need to coddle me. I know what’s coming.” He glanced at Jorg, then locked eyes with the towering orc.
“Shame we don’t have time to go a round before we head out,” Yazliar said. “I don’t like fighting beside weaklings.”
“Your free to wet your blade somewhere else,” Darian replied. “But no one here is weak.” He stepped around the orc and turned to face the group. “We need to work as a team once the fighting starts. And I won’t have someone beside me who can’t follow orders.”
“Stealth will be paramount,” Lucia added. “At least until we penetrate the inner sanctum.”
The door on the other end of the room opened and Alistair came through. He wore darkened leather armor, and he clutched a crystal tipped staff in his hands. Smirking, he eased the door closed behind him.
“Interrupting?” He asked with a sly turn of the lips.
“Bone-shaper,” Yazliar said. “Surprised you actually came.”
“In other circumstances, I would have been tempted to flee the fighting rather than run towards it. But the lich cult owes me a pound of flesh, and I will have it.”
“Just be sure your dark nature does not consume you,” Lucia said, her voice full of thorns.
Jorg sighed. “What a sorry crowd we’ve gathered.”
Darian looked at them, one by one. They are a rather…colorful group. Yazliar was strong, but he was more interested in personal glory than anything else. And Darian still did not trust the shifty necromancer Alistair. Jorg, despite wearing the gleaming armor of a paladin, still claimed he heard the voice of a dead god. At least Lucia seems solid, even if she is weak when compared to the rest of us. Then the door opened once more, and the final member of their party stepped inside.
“Lady Almeda,” Lucia said with a bow. “It will be a pleasure to fight alongside you.”
Almeda smiled. She wore no armor and carried no weapons, but Darian had seen a glimpse of her power. And I trust her more than the necromancer or the orc.
Raphael came in behind his daughter. With his walking staff tapping along the stone ground, he came to stand before them.
“Zander will begin his assault within the hour,” he said, standing as tall and proud as his withered body would allow. “As soon as the sun falls, the rest of you will begin your advance on the fortress.”
Yazliar grunted. “Fighting the undead at night. Such foolishness.”
Raphael smiled. “My scouts are waiting to guide you. But beyond that, I am sending someone else with you. They will help me keep in contact.”
A fairy fluttered inside, her little arms and legs buzzing from excitement.
“Pleased to be welcomed aboard!” Lallet said, flying over the God of Season’s head to pause before Darian. “Hello! It’s been a minute.”
Darian squinted at the fairy. “What are you doing here?”
“She will travel with you,” Raphael said. “Her sister will remain here. Between the two of them, I can be updated on your progress.”
“The sisters share a unique bond,” Almeda explained. “This bond materialized as a unique skill they both share. They are able to communicate to each other, no matter the distance between them.”
“Even if they are in sperate realms,” Raphael added. “Now before you leave, please have my smiths check your gear. I have also prepared a pack for each of you with the best supplies I can offer.”
“Goodies? For me?” Alistair smiled and made for the door. “A little treat before death? Why not!”
Yazliar frowned, but followed the chipper necromancer outside. Lucia and Almeda followed, Lallet not far behind them.
“Guess it’s about time,” Jorg said, a haunted look in his eyes. “Let’s both make it through this, alright? I don’t know what Krast and Isaac will do if one of us doesn’t come back.”
Darian nodded. “I’ll do my best, as always.” He smiled, the gesture fake.
Jorg, seeming slightly comforted, left the room. Darian went to go after him, but Raphael stopped him with an outstretched arm.
“I have not given you a gift,” the God said.
While he’d give each of the others a powerful item, he’d not given Darian anything.
“I figured I had all I needed.” Darian tugged at the sleeve of his dark armor, then reached up and touched the necklace he’d traded Palintross for.
“Yes, you are well equipped. But there is something else I wish to offer you.”
“Sorry, but I think I’m fine.” He went to move around the God, but he gripped him by the arm, pulling him back. Standing there a little annoyed, Darian relented. “Alright then, what do you want to give me?”
Raphael drew a finger across his wrist and smiled. “My divine blood, Aspirant. That is what I offer.”