Fleon and Boyd had been walking south for a few minutes. Fleon was guiding them to an abandoned portion of the town that had but a few Mana Nodes. Because it was relatively inefficient to gather Nodes here, it was also likely to be untouched. Fleon explained that this area of town was both less dangerous and less bountiful, and thus they sent Boyd this way. Fleon accompanied him largely because there was little to be gained from sending him any other direction, and his flying horse would attract a bit too much attention in town.
Portcullis had a solidly medieval feel. It was mostly thatched roofs and stone buildings, although notably none of them ever seemed to leak, and the weather was surprisingly temperate both inside and out. Boyd could easily tell which of the buildings were shops and which of them were houses based on signage, although unlike most modern spaces they were essentially unseparated. He assumed that many of the buildings doubled as both the shop and the home for the shopkeeper since they were commonly attached. He realized that would be nice as it would save on rent, and then remembered that rent probably didn’t exist here as the whole thing was dubiously even real. He saw a blacksmith, woodworking shops, what he assumed was a stable for selling horses and all the other similar sorts. He wanted to go look around, but Fleon kept pushing them forward.
“Come friend Boyd, we must make haste. The future of the Filary depends on our success.”
Boyd thought a minute, “What is the Filary anyway?”
Fleon stopped and pressed his hand against his breastplate. “My people are most noble and kind-hearted group in existence. We are The Light of the Universe. We are the Guardians of Peace and Goodness. We are…”
Boyd almost immediately zoned out as he had heard this before, and was instead watching two children across the street. They were alternately pointing at Fleon and chatting with one another. Having been a mischievous child himself, Boyd was fairly sure he knew what was getting ready to happen. Sure enough, he watched as one child started faking a hobble and heading towards Fleon while the other mysteriously slunk into a nearby alley.
“We are Hope Incarnate. We are Servants of the Most Holy One. Oh dear me, a lame child. Child, come to your High Paladin! Let me heal you of these wounds.”
Boyd watched with interest as the child sidled slowly up to Fleon. “Dear Sir, do you possess the powers of healing? My leg, good Sir, I was born lame. It’s never worked Sir. Could you possibly heal me?”
“Dear Boy, let me observe your malady. I am Fleon, High Paladin of the Filary. I will use my connection with our Holy Goddess to repair your worthless limb and restore you to function so that you might use your legs to bend the knee to Our Most Holy, Ioer.”
Boyd saw the second little boy appear out of the alley behind them. He wasn’t sure how the kid made it across the street undetected, but there he was.
“Hold still boy. Let Fleon heal you.”
The boy sat in the street in front of Fleon with his leg pointed forward. Fleon started chanting and was enveloped in a golden hue and began to hum a prayer that Boyd couldn’t understand. Soon Fleon was literally ablaze with holy flames. The flames raged and then subsided into a single flame in his hand. He cupped it like a new-born bird before gently placing the flame on the boy’s leg.
Boyd saw the boy’s leg shine brightly like it was burning and then suddenly stop. The boy leapt up and started laughing a clapping.
Around this time, the second boy stole Fleon’s sword and was heading back towards the alley behind them. Boyd briefly thought about stopping him, but he wasn’t sure if this was what he was supposed to do or not.
“Thank you Sir! I’ve never felt so alive and so well! You are truly a powerful healer Sir Knight.”
“Indeed young man, I am a magnificent and powerful healer. Such is the power of Ioer. Donate your life to the Goddess and you too could become valuable to your fellows,” Fleon said boldly.
“I must go now Sir, I must show my Ma that I can run!” The boy ran off towards the other side of the street bouncing merrily along the way.
“You see Friend Boyd, this is the power of Ioer. This is the healing power that my Goddess has given me so that I might bathe others in her light.”
“I thought people here weren’t real,” Boyd said.
“They aren’t, but it doesn’t matter! Because a true hero helps the real and the non-real alike. A true hero helps anyone they can! This boy will find purpose with his new leg and use it to benefit Ioer. Even non-real people deserve Ioer’s Light. This boy was a noble and good hearted young soul who fills Ioer’s heart with his joy.”
Boyd waited til Fleon finished, “You know they stole your sword right?”
“What?” Fleon felt around his belt for the pommel of The Blade of Light and Majesty, but it was gone. “By Her Holy Presence, that future priest of Ioer has pilfered my Blade! The Blade of Light and Majesty!! Get back here you little shit!” Fleon took off across the street.
Realizing the other boy had taken the Blade, Boyd went the opposite direction. He prepared himself for battle as he entered the alley, assuming it would be filled with God knows what. Fortunately, the only thing he saw was an open grate that appeared to lead to some sort of sewer. While he was no genius, it was fairly obvious where the second boy had gone. Boyd popped down into the sewer, expecting pitch black, but was surprised to find what amounted to a well-lit little home. It smelled strongly of shit, but otherwise had torches, chairs, and most of the other accoutrements you would expect from two children living in a medieval sewer. This included a little boy holding The Blade of Light and Majesty, staring at it intently.
“Hey kid, gimme back that sword.”
“Fuck you mister, it’s mine.”
Boyd was annoyed by the comment, but also remembered being a kid himself and the danger that adults offered.
“Look here kid, I’m a big guy and I am a Monk, and I want you to give me that sword back. It doesn’t belong to you, so give it here. I’ll tell your Momma if you don’t give it back.”
The small child disappeared in a poof of smoke and was left was what Boyd thought of as a tiny version of Satan with more arms. He scanned the creature.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
SYSTEM: Shivan Imp, Rank 3. Shivan Imps are known primarily for two things – 1) having a large number of arms and 2) using those arms to steal as much as they can. They aren’t usually dangerous, but if you have something worth stealing, it’s better to just kill them now rather than risk them taking it. Is that a fair approach? No. But Shivan Imps are ornery little bastards and mostly evil. Notably, each of those arms can hold a dagger, so if you take the pro-active approach, try not to get stabbed to death.
The Shivan Imp didn’t have daggers in every hand, but it definitely had them in many of its hands. One of its hands also held The Blade of Light and Majesty which Boyd assumed was dangerous, even in the hands of a thirty pound creature with many arms. It dashed at Boyd swinging each of its arms wildly. Boyd, having never been in a knife fight, took a very different approach and ran the opposite direction, not wanting to be stabbed to death. Boyd dashed for the ladder as fast as he could, but he could hear the Shivan Imp catching up to him. He turned to look behind him and realized there was no way he would make it to the sewer ladder before the Imp got to him, so he concentrated very hard on being a Monk (Unassigned) and did the first thing that made sense. This was to abruptly stop running and turn and try to kick the tiny creature in the face.
You Kick the Shivan Imp for 5 damage.
Life 11/25. You have been stabbed by a Shivan Imp for 14 damage. You are impaled. Movement in your leg is impeded.
Pain shot through Boyd like he had never experienced. “Ouch! You little motherfucker you stabbed me!” Boyd found out being stabbed hurts a great deal. Movement in his leg was definitely impeded as even small movements caused intense pain. He was quickly rousted from the pain by the scream of the Shivan Imp now charging him a second time, this time swinging one less dagger, but now wielding the Blade of Light and Majesty instead.
Boyd definitely couldn’t run this time, nor could he dodge, so he did the next best thing and leapt at the monster from his good leg. His actual plan at the time was sound in theory. The most likely outcomes were that either 1) his Uncultured Swine ability would activate given the incredible stupidity of the action, 2) he would die and no longer have to worry about his bleeding leg or this awful place, or more unfortunately, 3) he’d somehow win the fight and have to continue.
The result was bad for Boyd and bad for the Shivan Imp. Having never wielded a sword as heavy as the Blade of Light and Majesty, attempting to slice Boyd in half knocked the creature dramatically off balance and Boyd landed on its back. While he was no fighter, anyone who had ever watched any UFC fights knew what to do in this scenario. Boyd wrapped his increasingly muscular arm around the creature’s neck and began squeezing the life out of it. He quickly realized the Shivan Imp was deceptively light, and he could effectively crush its windpipe entirely, whereupon he did just that. The creature sputtered a few seconds and then died.
Shivan imp dies to your [Choke]. You have gained 1 experience.
SYSTEM: Achievement unlocked: Reputation - Annoyed (Agents of Shiva). The Shivans are an odd conglomerate of multi-armed creatures of various alignments and dispositions that for whatever reason have mutually come to the conclusion that non-insect-like creatures with more than five arms are generally the best thing. The bee’s knees (assuming more than five legs). The cat’s pajamas (assuming it has more than five arm holes for the more than five arms). Killing a minor entity left them annoyed with you. Stop killing things and you will stop making enemies. Also you’ll probably die. You don’t get experience for this, just enemies. Don’t whine, I can’t give you experience for everything.
Boyd picked up The Blade of Light and Majesty. He felt a power surge through him like he had never felt before. The pommel of The Blade burned his hands, but he couldn’t let it go. He swung it back and forth with glee. Every time he slashed with The Blade, it was like he was cutting through his own nightmares. He felt empowered, sated, and holy just being a part of it. It was like he was holding a warm summer’s day as peace echoed throughout his body. He was still in awe of its genuine Light and Majesty when Fleon showed up and promptly swatted it out of his hands.
“Put that down heathen! You are not capable of wielding this Blade.” Fleon picked the sword up off the ground and sheathed it. Boyd’s entire life came crashing down around him in an instant. He had felt pure and peaceful and calm while holding The Blade. Now he back in Zenith, lonely, cold, stinking of shit, and without any idea how he would ever see his friends and family again.
“Why did it make me feel that way?” Boyd asked.
"It is The Blade of Light and Majesty, the personal weapon of the High Paladin of the Filary. It has untold powers. It was purifying your spirit I am sure. Enhancing your natural charisma and holiness. Given your pitiful state, it probably felt like holding Godhood.”
Boyd blinked, “Yea, pretty much.”
Fleon looked Boyd up and down. “I am eternally grateful though. Losing this sword would’ve been akin to losing my life, nay, worse than losing my life. I would’ve been forever in shame. I offer repayment to you Friend Boyd.”
"Oh, nah man, I was just helping out. I know you like your sword a lot. I wasn’t gonna let that thing steal it. I seen what they was planning. I figured I could whoop a little kid. The whole turning into a monster thing was a bit of a scare, but we got it back.”
Fleon began stripping off his armor and smiled, “Kneel in front of me Friend Boyd.”
“What?”
"Fall on your knees in front of me Friend Boyd. Look up so that I might fill you with my honor. Open your mouth so that you might drink my Holy succor.”
Boyd waved his hands, “That’s… you know I’m good with everybody out there, like I ain’t prejudice or nothin’ but I don’t see you like, well, you know man. Like, that just ain’t me no offense or nothin’.”
Fleon was now wearing nothing other than his undergarments, a robe of pure white emblazoned with the seal of the Filary. “Kneel Boyd. It is time I bless you with my Holiness.”
Boyd was extremely uncomfortable with the idea, as kneeling in front of Fleon gave him consideration of several potentially awful outcomes, and very few good ones. Somewhat begrudgingly and with great concern, Boyd knelt in front of Fleon.
Fleon extended his neck to its maximum height. He had to curl part of it against the lower sewer ceilings but it didn’t seem to bother him. He began glowing a yellow, brighter and brighter, a warming and calming aura emanating from his body. “I, Fleon, High Paladin of the Filary, proclaim Boyd…”
Fleon’s aura went out. “Do you have titles or other names Friend Boyd?”
“Yea, it’s Boyd Bridges. Look we don’t have to do this, I’m good dude. Whatever you’re doing seems nice and all, but I’m just ole Boyd, no need for this.”
Fleon’s aura of heat and holiness lit aflame again. “I, Fleon, High Paladin of the Filary, proclaim Boyd Bridges to be a true and noble servant of the Filary. His actions today transcend our typical failings. His actions today represent the best of all the Filary hopes to become. Today, you kneel as Boyd, you arise as Sir Boyd, Knight of the Filary. May Ioer always guard your soul from the evils of this world!”
Fleon took The Blade of Light and Majesty and conked Boyd on the top of his head.
Boyd immediately felt unconscious from the strength of the blow.
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“What happened?”
Boyd woke up slung across Fleon’s armored shoulder marching back down the street.
“You regained my Blade, and then I Knighted you. I might’ve Knighted you a bit too hard. I am not used to Knighting people who are so low Rank. You were dying of a head wound so I healed you and then now we are heading back to the Inn.”
“Ok.” Boyd remained slung over Fleon’s shoulder as he marched at high speed with great flair. “Could you put me down?” Fleon set Boyd down and they started marching side by side, Boyd mostly running. “Hey Fleon, I think I know what Class I want to be. I want to be a Swordsman.”
“There is no such thing. There is Fencer but you do not fence. There is Samurai, but you lack the focus. There is Chevalier but you cannot ride a horse. There is…”
“Isn’t there just a guy that hits shit with a sword?”
“You don’t have a sword so why would this be of interest.”
"Let’s go get me a sword then.”
Fleon thought for a minute before responding, “No.”