Level up! Choose one class to gain your next level in:
Arcanist
Spellslinger
Eldritch Archer
Choose one ability to level: Strength- 8 (-1)
Dexterity- 16 (+3)
Constitution- 10 (+0)
Intelligence- 18 (+4)
Wisdom- 10 (+0)
Charisma- 15 (+2)
Arlo panted heavily, leaning on his musket. Wiping dust and grime out of his face, the catfolk scanned his choices eagerly. The usual [Spellslinger] was there, along with his current [Arcanist] class.
He’d have to wait. Arlo had no idea what they’d been fighting — some sort of mutated humanoid that had bitten Coradiel at least once. He’d almost call them zombies, but his [Disrupt Undead] cantrip did absolutely nothing to them. Seemingly mindless, with exposed muscle, velociraptor-like fingers, and digitigrade legs, the creatures followed no rule Arlo could see besides kill and kill some more.
The bites themselves only served to enrage Coradiel; Arlo had decided to keep well away from him until the rages wore off. The paladin was left swinging his blade at dead corpses, dismembering the beasts they’d been fighting, all while Arlo focused on choosing a class.
[Eldritch Archer] still seemed interesting. But Arlo wasn’t sure how well that would mesh with his current levels. Besides, he’d been doing a pretty good job so far with the [Arcanist]. Best to stick to what he knew.
Things were suddenly making a lot more sense though. No wonder he was weak, with a [Strength] score so low. Still, [Intelligence] seemed the best choice. He’d keep pumping that up for now.
Spell selection flashed by followed by a list of levelled skills — he’d apparently levelled his [Survival] skill. Neat. But ultimately useless at a total of +3 compared to +11 in [Knowledge: Arcana] — somehow Arlo doubted he’d ever be a good ranger.
“Are you finished?” he asked, barely glancing up as a sword dropped heavily.
“Yeah,” Coradiel panted. “Fuck… I don’t know what these things are, but I do not like them.”
“That makes two of us.”
But hey, at least he’d levelled up again. That was a good sign. Arlo wondered what level Coradiel was. Did he even have levels? He must have — Arlo had seen his HP go up to 32; well beyond Arlo’s own pitiful HP of 24.
Arlo still had him beat on mana though. He’d increased his mana maximum to 14, 7 points which could be used before he became fatigued. That was a sight better than it had been, and it was only getting better. Still no Tier 2 spells, but he was working on that. Maybe next level.
“[Light]. [Mage Hand]. [Scrivener’s Chant].” Sitting against the rough hewn wall, Arlo focused on the world around him. Slowly, a map appeared on a parchment held before him, detailing the areas they’d been through already. It wasn’t the best map in the world. But it would keep them from getting lost. Hopefully. A quick scan of the map put them along a cut passageway; he could only assume it was part of the original tunnels. More refined passages were cut to the east, part of the so-called Catacombs. Arlo had made the executive decision not to dive into the structure until they’d mapped out the tunnel first.
Well, the tunnel was mapped now.
“Okay, let’s move on,” Arlo said, checking his musket. Empty — his first [Abundant Ammunition] had expired. No matter; he’d cast another once combat started. With 12 mana left for the day, he still had plenty of spells to toss around.
“I don’t suppose you have any divinations that could tell us where this quasit is,” Coradiel said as they backtracked toward the nearest entrance to the catacomb.
“[Mage Armour].”
“Doesn’t answer my question, but thanks,” Coradiel muttered as a chain shirt appeared over his finery.
Arlo shrugged, copying the spell for himself. He kept forgetting to cast it early — a stupid mistake. Each casting would last four hours at this level; more than enough time to get through this dungeon. If it wasn’t enough time, they’d be beating a hasty retreat.
Emerging into a small vestibule, the catfolk stared in horror at a massive red marble statue of a woman holding a strange weapon and a spellbook. He wasn’t sure what was so revolting, but he felt irrationally angry just seeing the statue. A fitting emotion — the woman herself seemed beyond enraged. If looks could kill, both Arlo and Coradiel would be dead.
What was he saying? Magic existed here. Arlo was almost certain looks could kill. Thank fuck this was just a statue.
A statue with a detachable weapon.
“Take her… ranseur?” Arlo guessed, peering at the tri-bladed polearm.
“Who is she?” Coradiel asked, stepping forward cautiously.
A flicker of recognition dawned in the back of Arlo’s mind. “Alaznist,” he said slowly. “Yeah, she’s the Runelord of Wrath?”
“All I understood was Wrath,” Coradiel said, prying the ranseur free. “It makes sense, I suppose.”
“The Runelords were the mage-rulers of Thassilon,” Arlo added, as his mind offered trickles of information. “Beyond that… well, no one really knows much about them. Even Quink would be hard pressed to say more.”
Looking around the chamber, Arlo frowned. Three passages led off in all directions. He sighed, pulling his map out again.
“[Scrivener’s Chant].” The quill scribbled quickly over the parchment, creating three branches to the current room. Picking up a stone from the floor, Arlo held it up. “[Light].” He hurled it down the path directly across from the statue. The light flooded the passageway, and a shadow flashed past the light.
“Well, that’s one direction taken care of,” Coradiel said with a disapproving frown. “Don’t do that again. Who knows what’s-”
A giant shadow flew at the two. Arlo yelped, diving aside as the bat-winged fiend flashed past him. Bloody tentacles dripped beneath the creature’s disembodied head, and fangs gleamed in the dim light, prepared to latch onto anything it could reach.
“And that’s why we don’t do that,” Coradiel said, unsheathing his sword.
The vargouille distended its jaws. A shriek shattered the air, and Arlo flinched at the sound.
“[Abundant Ammunition].” Arlo frantically loaded his musket and lifted it.
CRACK!
The bullet slammed into the floating head. Another shriek filled the air as Coradiel charged. The paladin slammed into the vargouille, smacking it down to the ground. With a meaty crunch, Coradiel crushed the fiend underfoot.
“Well, that was easy.”
“Don’t say that. Now things are going to get so much worse,” Arlo sighed. “Still… we did clear that passage. And now we have stairs to explore. Where do you think they lead to?”
Heading up the long stairway, Coradiel poked at a huge pile of rocks blocking their path.
“How important is it to find out where this leads?” Arlo asked behind him.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I could replace my grease spell with an excavation spell, but getting through all of this would need six, maybe seven casts.” Arlo pushed at the rocks himself, but nothing happened. “If we open it, anything down here can get into the city; we’d need to post a guard for sure. But I would be too tired to cast any more today.”
“Then we’ll save it for after the dungeon is cleared out,” Coradiel decided. “We’ll need to station some guards down here anyway, especially if the goblins are using this place as a forward camp.”
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“Then we want to find the river,” Arlo said. “Which was to the north of Sandpoint, so…” He pulled out a compass. “[Light].” The compass glowed a dim orange as the light on his musket went out. Squinting, Arlo followed the path back to the statue chamber before turning right. “This way is north. It’s the most likely direction for an attack from the river, so I say we check this direction out next. Meaning the quasit is behind us, down this passage, according to the rules of dungeon diving.” He looked at Coradiel expectantly. “Well? Are we facing the quasit now, when I have spells, or later, when I have nothing but bullets?”
“Well if you’d stop wasting your energy on light spells when I could just pull out a torch-”
“Oh, that? That’s a Tier 0 spell. It doesn’t take any energy to cast,” Arlo said, just stopping himself from calling it mana. He wasn’t sure the term would translate here. Come to think of it, did tier even translate properly?
Either way, Coradiel seemed satisfied.
“Fine. We’ll fight the quasit with spells.”
A pair of doors ground open. Arlo winced at the noise as he peered into the massive room beyond. It looked just like a cathedral of some sort, similar to the giant churches he always saw back on Earth. The very thought made him shudder — surely stepping inside would make him burst into flames.
“Why do I feel the need to be invited inside?” he muttered to Coradiel.
“Are you a vampire?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then get inside.” The half-elf nudged him, and Arlo trudged through the doors.
Strange, spiky runes covered the stony walls. Against the far wall, steam wisped from a strange orange depression. But what held Arlo’s attention was the pool ringed with pristine human skulls. He couldn’t hold back yet another shudder — this would be the perfect demonic ritual spot.
Before he could come to his senses, a loud screech echoed through the room.
“How dare you intrude on the Mother’s sanctum?” A quasit hovered above the orange pool, a cold-iron athame in hand. She brought it up to her wrist-
CRACK!
The quasit shrieked, plummeting into the orange pool. Instantly, it began roiling and bubbling.
“What?” Arlo demanded as Coradiel stared at him. “Was I supposed to let her summon- oh shit…”
Five creatures lumbered out of the pool.
“[Abundant Ammunition]! [Mage Bullet: Seeking]!”
Crack!
A bullet whizzed through the air, veering into one of the spawn crawling from the pool. It stumbled back, before righting itself.
“Crap crap crap-” Arlo reloaded again as Coradiel stepped in front of him. “[Mage Bullet: Flaming]!”
Another bullet flew from Arlo’s musket, cracking against a wall. So much for stacking enchantments — he seemed to be stuck with one at a time. For now.
Focusing on reloading again, Arlo took a step back. And then another. A shriek burbled through the air, and his heart plummeted as the quasit emerged from the pool. The demon darted forward-
-and sank her claws into one of the beasts.
“Ha!” She was in a blind rage! That could only be good for them; it took one of the spawn out of the fight.
“Wrath-spawn,” he named the beasts — not that having a name made them die any faster. “Coradiel! Fall back to the Glassworks!”
“We can’t let them escape!” the paladin protested, cleaving into an arm.
“They won’t! They’re fighting her!” At least, Arlo hoped they were fighting the demon. She was hurt bad. Blood flowed from a hole in her shoulder, and her dagger arm seemed almost useless as she tried to skewer the Wrathspawn closest to her.
Reloading, Arlo shot Coradiel’s spawn in the face. Finally it dropped and stayed down, though Arlo wasn’t certain it wasn’t about to get back up. One down, four to go? Probably. Maybe three, but the catfolk didn’t put much hope on the quasit killing her Wrathspawn. She had only 8 hit points left to its’ 19.
“Fall back!” Another step, another bullet. This one clipped an arm, burning a hole in it. Arlo took the small victory — he could see the creature’s hitpoints tick down.
Coradiel stepped back with him, dodging a strike. Arlo’s gun barked again, and another bullet caught the paladin’s current foe, dropping its hit points down to 10.
And then the Wrathspawn were all on them.
Crowded into the doorway, three of the beasts swung at Coradiel. He cried out as teeth ripped a chunk of flesh out of his shoulder. The paladin’s hit points flashed — he was down to 20. The bastard must have critically hit him.
Arlo reloaded, his hands shaking slightly as the front line drew closer and closer.
“I’ll rescue you, my lady!”
The roar spun the catfolk around. His eyes widened. And his musket rose.
A goblin charged down the hall, all three arms flashing with a different weapon. A burning sword, a hatchet, even a dagger all found homes in the creature’s hands. And all spelled doom for Arlo and Coradiel.
CRACK!
A flaming shot caught the goblin in the gut. He staggered, but pushed forward. Jaws opening, a spurt of green gunk spewed from the goblin, spattering all over a frantically reloading Arlo.
The catfolk gagged as the acidic mixture burned at his skin. He fought back nausea. A losing battle.
Stumbling, Arlo retched. His musket raised weakly, and a squeeze of the trigger knocked it from his hands. He dropped to his knees, frantically trying to grab the weapon even as the acid clung to his skin.
The hatchet slammed into the ground beside him. Something sharp jabbed into him, and Arlo yelped as his hit points dropped down to 6.
“Not good-”
His hand wrapped around his musket, and Arlo brought it up just in time to deflect a blow from the longsword. Scrambling back toward Coradiel, the mage frantically reloaded.
As the goblin charged, intent on finishing the job, Arlo fired.
CRACK!
And the goblin dropped like a stone.
“Back!” Coradiel stepped back, dodging another blow from the Wrathspawn. Arlo yowled as his fingers were crushed — well, now he knew what 1 point of damage would be in real life. 5 hit points left… he needed to get out of here.
“Retreat!” he gasped out, scrambling to his feet.
Not even bothering to reload, Arlo booked it down the hall. He spun at the corner, finally taking a moment to slip a bullet into his musket. Levelling it, Arlo aimed past Coradiel and squeezed the trigger.
A Wrathspawn stumbled back, allowing Coradiel a chance to disengage. Racing down the hall, the two beat a retreat back to the statue chamber as three more Wrathspawn chased after them.
“How’s your ammo?” Coradiel demanded as Arlo stopped for a quick shot.
“Holding up — my spell hasn’t expired yet,” the catfolk panted.
A hand slapped his back, and Arlo watching his hit points trickle back up to 9 of 24. He let out a relieved breath, backing toward the smuggler’s tunnel.
“We can’t retreat any further,” Coradiel warned. “We can’t let these beasts into the town.”
“I know!” Sucking in a deep breath, Arlo thrust out his arm. “[Grease]!”
A wave of fatigue struck him like a knife. Stumbling, Arlo caught himself on Coradiel as a puddle of thick liquid spattered across the ground.
The Wrathspawn chasing them turned the corner.
One by one, they hit the grease and slipped.
“Kill them!” Arlo gasped, pushing Coradiel forward.
The paladin’s blade flashed, carving through necks and arms until the creatures were fully dismembered.
“I don’t think they’re coming back from that,” Coradiel said.
[Level up! Choose one class to gain your next level in].
Two levels in one day. That seemed like a good reward for almost dying. Arlo did not want to go through anything like this again. But at least for now, he and Coradiel were safe, and they’d saved Sandpoint. Again.
Ability Gained (Feat): Craft Magic Arms and Armour You may craft magic armour, weapons, and shields for half their market value. Each item takes 1 day per 1000 gp it costs. Ability Gained: Tier 2 Spells You have gained access to the second of nine levels of spells. Spells of this tier cost 2 mana to cast, but give your Mage Bullets a +2 enhancement when sacrificed.
Tier 2. No words had ever been sweeter. While Coradiel tinkered with his new longsword, Arlo eagerly scanned his new spell options. He found one choice immediately — Knock, a spell that could unlock anything, was a must have in a party without a rogue. The second spell was perhaps even more exciting. What mage didn’t know how to levitate?
Sure, he probably should have added a combat spell. But his bullets were working well enough, and with that +2 enhancement, he could now add a burst effect to every shot. Arlo was set for combat; he just needed to round out his out of combat spells.
And even better, his max mana had jumped up six points. That was ten Tier 2 spells he could cast per day. Finally Arlo felt like a real wizard. And it had only taken him to level 5 to feel this way.
“Fuck I love levelling,” the catfolk sighed.
“What was that?”
“I said I need a nap,” Arlo corrected himself. “I think we’re done for the day. Once we make sure that damned demon is actually dead this time.”
“She is,” Coradiel said. “I cut her head off myself.”
“Can paladins do that?”
“To demons? You’re damned right we can.” Coradiel shoved a dagger at Arlo, hilt first. “Here. For when you fuck up again and I can’t save you.”
“What do you mean? How was this my fault?”
“If you’re going to kill an enemy, try to make sure they won’t spawn five others when they die.”
Arlo rolled his eyes, but took the dagger anyway. Silver, weighted, it would serve as a decent melee weapon for now. At least it would once he cleaned off the gunk from the goblin who’d used it before.
More importantly, he could tinker with his new lighting wand, and the two new scrolls he’d discovered while picking his way through the rest of the dungeon. Once the bosses were defeated, it was downright easy to clear the rest of the place — the only real threat was a horde of zombies that couldn’t escape a pit trap. No trouble at all. Arlo had them all destroyed in a matter of minutes.
The scrolls would be scribed into his spellbook tonight. A few minutes’ study of the wand showed it to be a [Wand of Shocking Grasp] and not very useful for Arlo’s fighting style — if he was in melee range, something was very wrong. Still, it would be worth some money; money he could use to buy even more scrolls. His wealth of knowledge was growing.