Jorg looked out over the pond and wondered if he’d made a mistake. It was a familiar routine for him at this point. He fiddled with his gloves, scratched his beard, and shifted on his heels. But that thing had been a monster, hadn’t it? A blood sucker like the ghouls of Ardeth. Hesitation is death. He knew that better than anyone. But he couldn’t shake the doubt nagging him.
“Are you certain we shouldn’t go after them?” Carver asked, the boy’s face a shadowed ruin.
“Aye, it’s for the best,” Jorg replied, peering into the darkness. “Fria made her choice, and now it’s up to Argus to guide things from here. We can only hope she sees sense and returns to us before it’s too late.”
“Still…” Carver’s shoulders slumped.
If it were up to Jorg, the boy would be long gone by now. He’d ran when the ambush happened, sped off into the night while the rest of them fought and died. If he was a Justicar, he’d be hanged for such cowardice. But he was just a scared huntsman taking on more than he could handle, and despite himself, Jorg pitied him. Jorg hadn’t been much different back when he lived on the streets picking pockets and bullying people out of their hard-earned coin. Argus’ grace had saved him then, and so he would give grace in return.
“In the morning, we search for the necromancer’s power source,” Jorg said, hefting up his mace. “You’ll be my scout, but I want no heroics from you, understood?” Jorg knew what Carver’s answer would be, but the question itself showed his faith in the boy. Long marches during the demon invasion had shown him how important that kind of faith could be.
He perked up. “I understand.”
“Good.” Jorg returned to staring out over the pond, the cold wind stinging against the wound on his arm. “Now get some sleep. We leave at first light.”
Carver went to protest but his fatigue must have won out. He stumbled his way back to the cave in silence, his head down.
Jorg sighed. Their odds were dismal, but he couldn’t very well return home. They needed more men, that was true, but if he fell back now the village would surely be overrun. It was a long shot, but he had to try and slow the necromancer’s advance down himself. If it saved even a single innocent’s life, then it would be worth it.
“Argus give me strength,” he said, doubt still circling his heart.
***
Darian and Fria both stared at the hovering screen.
“What is this?” she poked at it, the screen reacting.
“A screen,” Darian said, stepping closer. “I think it appeared because I added you to my party.”
“Your party?” She shot to her feet, a reddish light washing over her. “What did you do to me?”
“I…” The words caught in his throat.
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Integration complete. Welcome Fria Von Rostcliff.
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The notification appeared before them both simultaneously, accompanied by an annoyingly loud trumpet.
“Where did that sound just come from?” Fria grabbed her ears. “I’ve gone mad.”
“You’re not going crazy,” Darian said, gripping her shoulder with one hand and bringing up his menu with the other. “Can you see this?”
“I can.” She lowered her arms, calm returning to her voice. “These are those objects you told me about?”
“They are. Adding you to the party must have integrated you into the system.” She nodded, seeming to understand.
The pair then spent a few minutes flipping through her menu. The only thing missing that was in Darian’s menu was the locked [Divine Ascension] button. But she had everything else. An inventory, the web of classes to choose from, and an XP tracker. Meaning she can probably level up like I can. He had felt kind of bad adding her to the party without asking her, but so far it seemed to be nothing but benefits.
“This is probably a good thing,” Darian said.
“It better be,” Fria replied, still flipping through her menu. “Please ask me first the next time you —” A notification flashed into existence, Fria jumping back from it.
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Quest Added: The Vengeful Hand
Objective: Kill the Warg - Gershank
Bonus Objective: Allow Fria Von Rostcliff the final blow
* Reward: Triumph unlocked – [The Avenger]
* Reward: Greater XP Crystal
* Bonus Reward: +5 Companion level cap
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A bonus objective? And I’d forgotten about Triumphs. He looked at the bonus reward, the “current cap” from earlier making more sense.
Stolen story; please report.
“Does this happen often?” Fria asked, looking at the quest notification as if it would jump out and bite her.
“Fairly often, but I’m starting to get used to it.” He pointed up at the quest title. “They seem to appear based on my desires, but I think maybe this one appeared because of yours.”
She looked over the quest, her eyes narrowing as she read. “So this…system thing wants us to kill Gershank?” She smiled. “Can’t say I’m going to argue with it.”
Darian dismissed the screen and settled back onto a pew. “It’s been helpful so far. But, enough about all that. You need to get some sleep.” She looked ragged, dark rings under her eyes.
Zan lifted his head and regarded the pair with sleepy eyes. “And now we’ve woken the poor wolf,” Darian said.
“I will try,” Fria said petting Zan and easing back to the floor.
But she spent at least an hour fiddling with screens. While they’d been a shock to him, Fria didn’t have anything in this world to compare them to. They were probably extra magical to her. Though her excitement eventually faded, and she fell back into slumber.
***
The smell of cooked meat filled Darian’s nose. He wandered out of the temple, having slept peacefully through the day. His new regeneration powers had fully restored his health, and he pulled Carver’s bandages off as he walked. I really need to find a shirt. He was still shirtless and also now without a weapon. He’d had to abandon his sword and dagger when they fled the cave. I’ll just have to nab one from the next skeleton I see.
Fria was on the temple’s right side, a stack of branches, grass, and leaves forming a little alcove around her and the small fire sputtering at her feet. She held what appeared to be a cooked squirrel in her hands, the meat dripping with grease. Zan was crouched nearby, his face buried in an elk’s stomach.
“I see you two have been busy,” Darian said, his own stomach grumbling. I doubt it would nourish me, but can I even eat normal food anymore? Looking at the cooked squirrel, he was tempted to try.
“Saved one for you.” She said, reaching back and producing a dead rabbit. “Blood should be fresh enough.”
“Thanks,” Darian took the rabbit hesitantly. Something about taking it and drinking it in front of her felt…wrong. But she just went back to munching on her own meal, and so Darian let his fangs emerge and drained the rabbit dry. He gave the remains to Zan, but he doubted the wolf would want more to eat once he was through with the elk.
“So, what’s the plan.” Fria asked, biting a chunk of meat free.
“We head for the fort to the east. Gershank said I should be able to notice the Nether Gate once I get close enough.” He squatted by the small fire. “He also said there’s an armory inside where I could find equipment. Might be something in there for you too.”
“It would me nice if you found something to cover up all that paleness. You’re practically glowing in the moonlight.” She smirked.
“Thought the same thing myself. Well, sort of.” He inspected her fire and the blind she built around it. He’d seen his father do something similar on their first, and last, hunting trip. “Did your dad teach you how to make that?” He asked.
“He did. That and most else I know.” She tossed the rest of her meal over to Zan, the wolf still face deep in the elk. “I can show you how to make one sometime, maybe once we’ve killed that bastard Gershank and stopped this necromancer woman.”
“I think I would like that,” Darian said, rising to his feet. “About ready to head out?”
She nodded, retrieving her bow and quiver. “C’mon Zan, you’ve had enough. It’s time to go.”
The wolf stood, face blood smeared. But his tail wagged as he bounded up to them, giving Darian a rather gross lick on the hand.
“Good boy,” he said, scratching between Zan’s ears.
Darian opened his map, Fria beside him. “If I had to guess, the ruined fort is somewhere over here,” he said, pointing at an undiscovered zone to the east. “We’ll have to find it quick as we can. There’s a chance I’ll have to spend the day inside.”
“I understand. But what if we run across Jorg and Carver? That fanatic will still be trying to destroy the gates.”
“If we see them, we don’t engage.” The two of them together could maybe handle Jorg, but Darian wanted to avoid a fight if it was possible. “If we see them, we head back here and then go for another gate. If we’re lucky, they can take one out for us.”
“Just keep your eyes and ears open. That man is big, but he’s agile and quieter than you’d expect.”
“Got it,” Darian replied, striding forward. “Let’s both pray this goes smoothly.”
***
Valmier walked the fort’s ruined walls. They’d repaired some of it, but there were still holes here and there, great piles of moss covered stone all about. Rows of shamblers with bows shuffled along beside him, their arrows ready to pelt any would be attacker. His master had given him command of the Nether Gate here, and he was doing his best to prepare for an attack. At least one of the Justicars was still out there, and a few rangers from the village. The rangers were a small threat, but the Justicars came with holy magic. And if they regrouped, they would make a considerable force.
His master’s army was still in its infancy, most of their forces spread thin across the gates. And they’d been losing small patrols the last few nights, too many to be from the weak monsters of the forest. The rangers and the surviving Justicar could account for some, but not all. It’s that pale bastard from the cabin, it has to be. The fires of rage burned in Valmier’s skeletal chest. He’d not forgotten the indignity of having to retreat from such a weak foe.
Perhaps, if fate was kind, he would come to the fort. Then Valmier could finally avenge his shame. The idea pleased him, and he spent the next few hours imagining what methods of torture would be best.
***
The sky darkened and the fort loomed ahead. Darian and Fria crouched atop the hill, Zan in the shadows at their back.
“How do we get in there?” Darian asked. The place was a bit less ruined than he’d expected, and it looked like some skeletons were working on repairing the walls.
“Stay here,” Fria said. “I’m going to have a look around.”
“Are you sure?” Darian asked, not liking the idea of her going off alone.
“I’ll be fine. Skeletons don’t have the best hearing or eyesight. Maybe I can find us a way in.”
“Alright, but be careful.” Darian steadied himself, readying for the challenge ahead.
“Always,” Fria said, and then she slid down the hill, disappearing into the darkness.