Livia was winning… But she was also cheating, although she was pretty sure Van Vicci could tell, just maybe not how.
Whenever Van Vicci would resort to some obscure reference, of a Class or Spell whose unknown power could potentially undo all of Livia’s careful, synergic planning; Mr Beard would whisper in her ear and give her at least the semblance of a valid response.
Enough for Van Vicci to consider the tactic a dead end and thankfully try some new avenue.
“Oh, that’s dirty Livia. Investigative Spy [Guild].”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “Assassin’s [Guild] Branch”
“Paladin, creed, crusading temple.”
They had been playing with the rules a bit, you could use longer terms but then the opponent was allowed an instance to use clarifiers in retort. Gaaah. I will need researchers and rocketry before he will accept me pulling out a tactical nuke.
Unbeknownst to Livia they had been at it for days.
Night never really came to Van Vicci’s valley. Instead he had a number of active effects from hidden artifacts that kept lower level people going like they had a good night's sleep every few hours.
The score was 0-2 in Van Vicci’s favor, but if Livia could find a way to take this round, she’d be in reach of a tie.
“Hold it. If my assassins succeed, and your spy [Guild] remains ineffective, you still won’t have proof of my wrongdoings. From the outside it will still be my rather innocent, nationwide farming industry versus your personal security and mining operations, but with the adding on crusading fanatics… Isn’t that a step too far in the public’s eye?”
Van Vicci had cornered her with similar arguments before, so even if there was room to argue, details like how Paladins could conceivably hold to local customs and garner a good reputation to reduce the backlash… Excuses were not accepted.
It was more interesting to start over.
The scoreboard changed to 1-2, Van Vicci had it floating above the hill where Livia originally landed, while he was lying directly on his side, head posted up by his hand and elbow.
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Harold was still sprinting up and down the muddy hills, past bogs and logs that held entire ecosystems of their own, with the pigs still in hot pursuit.
The young [Druids] was having an awful week.
It was true, since gaining his Class he may have gotten more and more used to brushing off every bruise, tackling his brother and his training partners unexpectedly, ambushing people and animals just to mess with them and to invite the same kind of attacks in retaliation, except he was always on his guard, with so many out to get their revenge.
But these older [Druids] were taking the piss.
This was that behaviour taken to a hundred, it was way over the top. Four straight days now, of the hairy pigs not giving him a moment's rest. If he tired too much and stopped fighting, they turned to violating him instead, slobbering in his face, humping his legs, all sorts of debauched behaviour.
It would not have been so bad if he had not realised early that they were shapeshifters, but the one detail that remained true to their original form was the groin area.
Not that he believed it could possibly be real. Their third hindward limb was grotesquely engorged and had remained so for all four days. There’s no way that’s real. But I am still not risking it, to hell with that.
Harold had to admit it worked wonders as an incentive to keep his damn distance. But he was tiring again. Each time they caught him it was a brutal wrestling match where danger lurked with every twist, prepared to pounce right as you let yourself become a sitting duck.
He had picked up all manner of new moves over time, no matter which limb they tried to control he had learned how to get free and do some damage while keeping his neverending flight moving onward.
There was something about the valley that kept him going, but it was only enough to a point. When they timed it and pushed him to a higher pace was when he flagged early and had to fight until the next saving grace in the form of the valley’s burst of energy.
This time Roldy decided to try something different, he had neglected to include Skills in his defence thus far, since he got the feeling the elder [Druids] would just match him tit for tat, this time he used up the last of his strength to fight back from the start, just after the valley’s rejuvenation.
A [Ruptured Earth] forced the frontmost pig to dodge, and it made the mistake of attempting to leap over. Harold launched a superman strike with full commitment to catch him out, but as his feet left the ground the second pig accelerated unnaturally and got him from the side.
They landed in a heap, but this time Roldy decided in the moment to trust his gut, he punched right at the protruding phallus right as their wrestling brought it near his chest.
And thankfully that broke the illusion.
All of a sudden he was surrounded by laughing old men who were laying in the mud, wearing strange animal skins and the like, just like him.
Harold recovered his wits quickly, even if he felt like this was too easy after all he had been through. “What the hell, what was that, why was I meant to do that!?”
The bearded old farts were still chuckling and clapping each other's backs, congratulations apparently being in order all around for a splendid race to catch a stubborn little piglet. I should have brought the wasps.
Eventually one of them did get around to answering Harold though. “Well, we felt like you could use some help getting rid of some of that innocence that shines so from your face, beasts can come in all forms you know, some magic creatures develop quite the nasty habits, just to torture their enemies psychologically–but never forget how such very habits may also be their biggest weakness if you don’t shy away,”
The [Druid] sounded completely serious but he was still laughing and wiping tears from his eyes while he said it, so it was sort of hard to tell for certain.
That night they shared some incredible food, all of which could be found in a ready-to-eat state in the forest, as long as you knew where to look. Harold knew some of it from childhood, but these old [Druids] had learned every trick over time. The smörgåsbord included nuts and truffles, certain spicy roots and berries, the small forests of this valley were surprisingly bountiful to say the least.
By the time Livia came calling with the help of Van Vicci, Harold was too stuffed to be properly surprised at the sight of the rigid statue of the Titan.
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Once one of the Sprites had been discovered and thus felt free to bother Oscar, it seemed his placid reaction was taken as reason enough for the others to also let down their guards.
Suddenly he was surrounded by chattering voices, all being quite rude.
“Who gave that to you;What were you doing out here;Did you fight the Ants?;Of course not, he’s too small!”
Oscar felt certain these creatures were magic in nature, despite lacking the senses to tell for certain. He was not scared, yet. But he felt like this might be a distraction for something else, since they were trying to hide up until he discovered one.
“Tell me first, are you Sprites? I just might consider a response for one in turn,” They certainly fit the description from his childhood stories, but the creatures of Elderwood were too numerous to readily recall. Yet Oscar's ready weapon made him feel confident enough to try and take the lead in the conversation.
“The boy tries to deal with us;But does he have what we want;Or;Or what;Rather do we have what he needs.”
Oscar tried to stay quiet, in order to force one of them to slip up and respond.
“You mistake us, we get our answers whether you give them or not;That’s right;Your silence speaks volumes, only one kind of boy responds like that!”
That can’t be true. “What can you tell then? I wouldn’t believe something like that for a second without some proof,”
“Hah, predictable;A cunning bastard is what you are;Likes to lie in ambush I’m sure;Snake in the grass;Poison lingering in wounds.”
Oscar refused to be goaded so easily. What they said may be true, in a sense. But using your advantages was just being smart, he took no shame in that.
“Even when you are stronger you’d still strike from the dark;That’s right;To conserve resources he says;All a lie, mere cowardice;The kind of strong who fears even the meek;A planner who stops at nothing.”
Despite knowing what they were doing, even Oscar had his limits. He was yet young; he spat the next words. “You are talking complete shit, you have no idea who I will become or how I think.”
That seemed to make them angry. “Then prove us wrong;Prove it;Throw that sword and we will give you a gift;You can do better anyway;Who gave it to you?”
One of the Sprites caught Oscar’s eye, and his forehead felt hot. Within a second he saw its entire face open up like a flower, with teeth on each petal’s end, it was like a little alien predator that wanted to eat only his face. Then they all darted in close all of a sudden, circling around him and some pulling his clothes or using sticks to poke at his scabbard.
The sight scared him shitless, but he knew they were still small and that he would be foolish to hurt them, so he only warded them off but also could not help but take several backwards steps as they darted towards his eyes.
His foot went right into a flower waiting to eat him.
Thankfully it was only up to his calf, but damn if it didn’t immediately start to hurt.
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The closing flower was red and dotted orange, and where it tried to close on his leg was where it had hollow thorns that delivered some poison to paralyse smaller victims.
He managed to get his leg free without hurting it when the Sprites all tore at the individual petals and made it release him, giggling all the while.
But the other Sprites had not stopped pulling his other limbs, and Oscar was still spinning. He got near the lake, and despite his own defensive actions the Sprites managed to poke nerves with sticks and shove his hands the precise way that was needed to make his sword fly into the lake, as he stepped into an unexpected groove in the earth.
A beautiful but ethereal hand was somehow ready to receive it, without ever breaking the tension of the water’s surface.
“No, what did you do,” Oscar only whispered the accusatory words, but the Sprites still took offence.
“Oh now he blames us for his clumsy nature;Like we had ought to do with it;What are you doing here anyway;That piece of barely useful ore was not worth its handle;Get over it you tart.”
Oscar could only turn back and glare at the nasty beings.
Fine, it was not the best of swords, but he had been training his ass off with it for the past six months–learning its feel even better than his left hand. Not to mention it was a gift from Brunner, even if he had not made it himself, it still meant a lot to get a sword enchanted to be used so much and which would not break without being easily repaired.
He could never have trained half as hard without it.
“I don’t know what you are lying for, it cannot be to convince me so it must be yourselves,”
The Sprites actually seemed to soften a bit at that, when they saw how the boy was truly upset, even over such a crappy piece of weaponry.
But for once it seemed like not all the Sprites were on board with the words that came next. “It’s just a prank you dolt;Clearly it's not that important to you;What, are you scared of a swim?”
The words made Oscar turn back to look at the strange lake with a ghostly hand again, he had instinctively thought it too big a risk to dive into strange waters, even for such a personally precious item. Now he was not so sure where his caution stemmed from–unlike Harold, he was a decent swimmer after all.
The reactions of the other Sprites made it clearer why. “Do not, not ever ever go in the deep waters without a Blessing;No, Van Vicci said nothing too dangerous, you idiots;The waters are permanent you fools, if he goes he stays.”
Oscar suddenly lost every urge to even stand near the waters.
“We promised to play nice;A gift then;A gift, instead of the sword;A better one, for a soon to be warrior;Or snake, time will tell!”
“I just want my own sword back, I really doubt you cannot get it back for me,”
The Sprites actually spat back at that. “A dirty iron sword, fit for but a mongrel;Why the attachment, you don’t know the maker I can tell;Bah ‘tis a childish attachment;Better, we will give you better, leave the valley with some proper magic;No, give the boy shit if he wants shit!”
Now that Oscar looked back at the small lake again, he could make out two of the ethereal hands. One was holding his trusty old sword, that he had felt true panic for when it slipped through his fingers.
The other was a sword as well, but so alien as to be more like a glaive. It was mirror polished and seemingly made of silver, but it was clearly sharper than any tool not made for killing.
The handle had further silvery ornaments of the moon and the handle was tightly wound in a blue cloth that would help his grip like it was his hands best friend–even through the water he could somehow tell that it was impossible to get the handle wet.
"A true sword;A sword for a Sir;A weapon to kill the wicked;To save the weak;To save yourself. You can do no better, boy."
Oscar had a choice to make. It took him longer than anyone who knew the practical lad would have expected.
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Kalle felt like there should be more for him to do here, it was not the most rewarding feeling being delegated to a mere observer.
It was strange though, his connection to Harold and Livia and the rest was certainly enhanced from down here.
Of course he turned it into a game to predict how they would act and feel, whenever something new happened. He was quite surprised at being so terrible at it.
When he would have expected Harold to take the lesser of two evils, he persisted in trying to find a third way. When Livia had talked herself into a corner, she would pull something out of left field, sometimes using the sort of things it seemed likely Mr Beard had provided, but other times clearly the kind of stuff she herself must have thought of on the spot. She wielded her tools with surprising equality, like she was reluctant to ever rely on any one of them too much.
Even after a whole day of observing from below, his predictions were not improving. Up above was almost a sort of rest, a way to be with them all as a group again. He was not really learning much from up there though.
When he felt like he had the energy to return below he tried to look for some new angle.
One thing he had considered was how he only really knew his friends intimately in mundane and rather stress-free situations, even sparring was not challenging in the same ways any more, and since that was when he had time to really analyse them he could see his impressions were limited.
But how they behaved in real combat, or under true duress, where they needed to perform or surrender their ambitions or even lives; that part of them was still a mystery, at least that much had become rather obvious from down here.
Whenever Kalle had found himself in such situations, he was always focusing on himself. He was not yet comfortable enough to take in the rest of what his Skills were telling him about his teammates, at least not right there in the moment. That was a big part of why he had failed to make much use of his tier 10 Skill [Words of Fortitude], thus far.
Kalle did not have time to get back into his musings for long however, this time he was distracted by an unforeseen scratching from the other side of the wall behind him.
It was getting closer, but it did not seem very large so Kalle simply decided to wait for whatever it was to dig its way in.
As it turns out it was a rather large mole, but it was not blind like it ought to be. Instead it looked right at him with all three of its eyes, past its long nose, oversized claws and bristling white fur.
“Uh oh, sorry is this your homes?” Somehow it had the cutest voice Kalle had ever heard.
“What, no. I’m a guest of the Great Spirit, I think.” That made the mole drop down and land on two feet, wearing little hide-boots.
“Oh, sort of likes the others then,” It was looking at him curiously, while holding its claws like some ancient owner of a nuclear power plant. “Whatchu down here for, isn’t it dark for you?”
“Yes sure–that’s true, but it seems like there is some enchantment over the well, I can see my [Guild] mates through here,”
When the mole sidled over to take a peek it seemed like the discovery was rather bittersweet. “Oh yeah, this is easier,”
That made Kalle imagine how the creature might have seen the others. “Have you been digging your way all over this valley?”
“No way, whatchu means, what a waste of time. I just saw some people, right from my home, I settled for the view from theres, trust me.”
“Uh, okay.” Kalle did not.
“Anysway, have you figured it out yet?”
And that was the thousand silver question, wasn’t it. When you were posed with a challenge from some Great Spirit.
“I don’t think so,”
“Wanna know what I thinks?”
Kalle simply nodded, and the creature was clearly prepared to tell him either way.
“You’re too focused on your own traumas, for developing your Class, you’re like my uncles,”
“Wait. Are you saying your race has a System?” That would be incredible, how did they compete, are they just that potently magical?
“No sillys, of course not.” It was gesticulating with its claws a lot by now, it seemed to be warming up to him, but unlike with other people Kalle was getting nothing from his Skills, like he would expect from an animal.
“But he’s always trying to experiments on his own, despite being a teacher, he could get all his students to do the experiments with him, you know?”
Kalle was only vaguely familiar with the kind of schools nobility in Dormata sent their kids to; this was not really a way of working he was familiar with, but it certainly sounded efficient.
“Let them learns, and you learns from them, so practise that too. Don’t just learns from yourself,”
And that simple sentiment made a light go off for Kalle, although he spent the whole next day considering how he could make that apply to all of his Skills, including the ones he was counting on for his capstone.