Dozens- no, hundreds of tiny green men crawled out of the forest.
How had we not noticed them? Sure, my Harmony was apparently crap, but they should've been making some sort of noise, and Sybil had much better senses than I.
Just as the thought crossed my mind, I felt a presence emanate from further down the road. An extremely tall, hooded figure stood in the path, and the shadows near him seemed to deepen and flicker, presumably in response to some form of spell.
My vision was soon drawn back to the Goblin horde, as I heard the wet schlunk of a blade being drawn through flesh. It seemed that the monsters already arrived, and Sybil had entered combat with them. I moved to fight alongside her, but hesitated, looking back towards the mage's position. He was gone, and in his place stood many, many Goblins, all of which had some mismatch of armor and equipment.
I could only grit my teeth and pull out my dagger, jerking it towards the nearest Goblin. My form was quite poor, and I almost fell over, but I still managed to drive the thing into its chest, causing it to cough out blood and fall to the ground, only for its place to immediately be taken by another of his kind. Shaking my head, I conjured a Bolt in my left hand and sheathed the blade.
While the Bleeding Edge was certainly a great weapon, I was effectively incapable of using it. While I was far more physically capable than a base human, I still had no idea how to use melee weapons. I resolved to spar with Sybil once we'd gotten out of here.
My Arcanoccultist's Bolt quickly solidified in my grasp, and I chucked it at the nearest Goblin. Its skull immediately exploded, and the wisp left behind by the Bolt continued forth to cause damage to the ones behind it.
I grinned. Now this was what I was talking about. Who needs a silly knife when you've got magic? With one Bolt, I'd easily killed 4 Goblins, just like that. Sadly, there was still no experience, since they were just too weak for me, but I hoped that Sybil was getting some.
At this point, the amount of time that it took to summon a Bolt was effectively nonexistent, so I just blasted as quickly as I could. I gathered a few scratches here and there, but the Goblins were too weak to cause anything that would last more than a few seconds. With my high Vitality, Bolts, and Lifesteal, paired with my Manadrain, this crowd would likely never be able to take me down.
A glance at Sybil told me that she was fairing just as well. A bit of perspiration had formed across her face, but it seemed that she hadn't even been touched. Her bladework was beautiful, flowing as though she were water. Although she was drenched in blood, she was still quite beautiful.
My distraction earned me a bash to the helmet. Looking to the creature that had hit me with a snarl on my face, I saw a Middle Tier 2 Goblin, the first of its kind that I'd seen.
Too bad that it had decided to get into melee range, though.
Sybil had told me a while ago that while Goblins weren't all that physically powerful, and they really weren't that smart, they had strong souls. They were courageous, and would often stare down death without a hint of fear. In that were, they were a respectable race. No one could ever beat a Goblin into submission. Their people would never give up until they won. That was why Quests were given to eradicate entire tribes, rather than just a few here and there. If a human left even a single one, it would never forget. There had been cases of Goblins escaping slaughter, finding new tribes, and rising to high enough Tiers to crush entire cities.
Sadly for this one, a strong soul wasn't quite enough to survive an Arcanoccultist's Bolt being shoved directly into its right eye.
Gore drenched my armor, entrails littering the floor and bones pinging off the metal.
A smile stretched across my face as I felt a ping telling me that I'd just gained XP.
----------------------------------------
Sybil Jehkall
Green. A splattering of ugly green spread out before her eyes. There was the light, mottled green of the Goblins, the wide canopy in the distance, and the disturbed, crushed green of the trail, though that was quickly being overrun, replaced by more of the Goblin flesh. She unsheathed her arming sword and started carving.
Her fighting style was a mix between the one she'd been taught by her first master, a Tier 3 Ectonoid who called himself Master Peril, whose style had a tendency towards sharp thrusts and blocks that led directly into heavy, chopping attacks, her father's style, which mostly consisted of quick slashes towards critical points hoping to bleed the enemy dry, and her own insights into bladework.
While many of her Abilities- both system-granted and hard-earned- were wasted against a crowd that was too slow for her to even need to worry about blocking, she wasn't completely useless. Far from it. she rained strikes down upon her foes, and they fell by the dozen. The feeling of Experience flowing into her point-by-point was annoying at first, but she tuned it out after some time.
It was only her, Abel, and a horde of monsters.
She wouldn't have it any other way.
She looked behind herself to look at the aforementioned man, and found him shoving magic into a monster's eye with a mad grin on his face, his plate armor decorated by smears left by Goblins that had gotten close enough to splatter him with their internals. Some might have found his smile creepy, or his overall appearance scary.
She wasn't most people.
Wiping the grin off her face, and trying to ignore the slight warmth in her long-cold heart, she got back to killing.
----------------------------------------
Abel Halloran
My grin stretched wider as I felt the shudder that signified that I'd finally gathered the last 6% to my next level. I tried to count the corpses, attempting to figure out just how many deaths it had taken to get to this point, but there were so many. I casually flung a Bolt over at a screaming Goblin while I counted. Eventually, I just shrugged, realizing that it would be borderline impossible to get a good count, since so many had been chunked. Still, I was pretty certain that the number was in the low hundreds.
I looked to see if Sybil needed any help, but found her resting against a pile of corpses, cleaning her blade.
On my way to her, he threw a few more Arcanoccultist's Bolts at some of the bodies he thought he saw breathing.
"Hey," Sybil greeted him, not looking up at me, but smiling nonetheless.
I sat down next to her, leaning against the same mound of flesh that she was.
"Whatcha doing?"
She looked at him then, an unasked question in her eyes. "I'm getting some of the blood off my sword. Did you not use your knife?"
I pulled my blade out of its sheath, wincing. I hadn't even thought of doing that.
Sybil's smile had turned into a slight frown. "Here, let me look at that."
I handed it over, and she poured some water from a canteen over the dagger before wiping it clean and drying it off. Then, she poured some oil onto it, and wiped it over the blade with a cloth.
The process hadn't taken too long, but I was still feeling thoroughly embarrassed. "Sorry, Sybil, I... don't have much experience with things like this."
She waved a hand. "It's alright. Just don't immediately sheathe your weapon next time. Steel corrodes when blood is left on it like that, and you're bound to ruin your sheath. I'll show you how to do it next time, alright?"
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
I scratched at the back of my head, but felt relieved. We remained sitting for a while after she'd finished cleaning her sword, just relaxing ourselves after the long fight.
Then I remembered something.
"Hey, Sybil?"
She stirred, having dozed off momentarily, and let out a "Hmm?"
"I think there's one more."
She got to her feet and looked down at me with some confusion. "What do you mean?"
"There was a mage. He disappeared right before the fighting started. Gosh, I feel stupid now, how did I forget that?"
Sybil looked into the forest with a deep expression. "We should get going, then. Getting ambushed in the middle of the night would be bad."
I nodded at her, and rose myself.
We got out of there as quickly as we could.
----------------------------------------
Draza'Un the Black
The Shaman hatefully glared at the ones who had slaughtered his tribe. Since he'd hit Tier 3, Draza had been bigger, smarter, and more powerful than any of his tribe mates. He understood just fine that his people had attacked first. He simply didn't care.
In that moment, he hated them more than anything. He thought he'd hated the previous leader of his tribe- a stupid, obese Goblin that had only risen to the heights he had due to sheer luck and a marginal amount of physical talent. His old "Barbarian King" had oppressed him and kicked him out of the tribe's lands due to his own supersticion. The idiot had thought that Draza'Un was a threat to his position, that he'd slay the "King" out of his own lust for power.
That there was probably the only intelligent thought that Karzok'Un had in his entire pathetic life. Sadly for him, kicking Draza out hadn't been enough. He had returned and struck the Goblin down with his powerful magecraft.
He'd thought that was hatred, and that feeling had smoldered for over a year while he stumbled about the forest, dodging patrols and hunting beasts as he
Since then, Draza'Un had spent all his time cultivating the Un tribe's warriors. After nearly a decade of ambushes and hunting parties, he'd finally gotten to the point where a few of his strongest were in Tier 2, and his average barbarian was in the Mid Tier 1. It should have been a slaughterhouse for any human that entered the Unarian Forest, but... it was a massacre, and not in a good way.
That day, the Shaman learned an important lesson, one that would carry him further than any other Goblin on his world even dared to dream.
Hatred doesn't smolder.
It erupts.
And the hatred of a Goblin Shaman is a very powerful thing.
Name: Abel Halloran Class: Arcanoccultist Level: 21 Class Xp: 7% Profession: Bishop of Blood Level: 20 Profession Xp: 60% Health Total: 663/663 Health Regen: 59 /minute Mana Total: 945/945 Mana Regen: 108 /minute Physical: 84 Constitution: 68 Vitality: 153 Fitness: 38 Mental: 115 Willpower: 135 Nerves: 104 Intellect: 123 Astral: 56 Balance: 56 Channeling: 128 Harmony: 9 Free Points: 1 Traits: Prodigy
Inspiration in Suffering
Class: Arcanoccultist (Arcane Mage -> Arcane-Blood Mage -> Arcanoccultist) The Arcanoccultist gains 1 Constitution, 6 Vitality, 1 Fitness, 2 Willpower, 6 Nerves, 8 Intellect, 27 Channeling, but loses 2 Balance and 1 Harmony, per level.
Features:
Mageblood Drinker: Damaging spells using Health as a resource gain lifesteal based on the amount of Health lost. Damaging spells using Mana as a resource gain manadrain based on the amount of Mana lost. (1% of max Mana/Health = 1% Manadrain/Lifesteal)
Ritualistic Recovery: Rituals replenish doubled Health and Mana.
Occultist's Charm: Reputation gain increased with certain factions. Reputation gain decreased with certain factions.
Major Skills:
Soul Mark Lvl. 1: Cast a curse upon a creature's soul, linking them to you. Ritual, Lifesteal, and Manadrain effects created by you that target it are increased by Channeling.
Arcanoccultist's Grimoire Lvl. 1: Summon a magical grimoire, containing knowledge important to the Arcanoccultist.
Blooded Ritual Lvl. 1: Rituals which use your blood as a component are empowered based on your Vitality.
Minor Skills:
Arcanoccultist's Bolt Lvl. 10: Fire a bolt of mana at your foes, aspected equally to Arcane and Blood, and dealing a small amount of damage directly to the target's soul. Deals damage based on Vitality and Intellect. A small part of the damage dealt passes through all shielding and resistance. This effect is slightly reduced by Balance.
Malefic Bond Lvl. 1: Reduce a creature's Health and Mana, at the cost of an equal amount of resources from yourself. Requires your mana to be in contact with the target. Effects increased by Intellect and Channeling.
Combat Ritual Lvl. 1: Perform a combat ritual with significantly reduced preparations and components. Effects are improved by Intellect and Channeling.
Profession: Bishop of Blood (Autodidact -> Tormented Autodidact -> Bishop of Blood) The Bishop of Blood gains 4 Constitution, 10 Vitality, 2 Fitness, 4 Wisdom, 1 Nerves, 3 Intellect, 27 Channeling, but loses 3 Harmony, per level.
Features:
Pantheon of Blood: Increases all favor gained with gods of the Blood domain significantly. Effects reduced by Harmony.
Soul Leak: Your mere presence radiates a near-physical pressure. Effects improve with Channeling, but are reduced by Harmony.
Fasting: Food, water, and sleep requirements are decreased by Channeling.
Major Skills:
Polytheist Lvl. 1: Why worship one god when you can earn the favor of many? Innate knowledge of the various gods of the universe, as well as their rituals and magics. Slightly increased favor gain with all gods. Effects reduced by Harmony, but increased by Intellect and Channeling.
Bloodmarked Sacrifice Lvl. 1: Infect a creature's soul with your own tainted blood. Improves favor gain and blessings from the sacrifice of said creature based on Vitality and Channeling.
Sacrifice Expertise Lvl. 1: Increased skill at creating and performing rituals of sacrifice. Favor, boons, and blessings gained from sacrifices improved. Effects improved by Intellect and Channeling.
Minor Skills:
Ritual of Blood Lvl. 1: Learn and gain mastery over rituals related to blood.
Sadistic Sacrifice Lvl. 1: Rather than dedicating a creature's entire life at once, you may instead sacrifice small portions at a time. As you deal damage to a creature, siphon off bits of its soul, sacrificing them for greatly reduced gain. Effects increased by Channeling.
Dedicate Soul Lvl. 1: You have learned to more effectively perform the final portion of any sacrifice: the Dedication. Critical blows dealt to restrained, unconscious, or otherwise motionless targets that lay upon a sacrificial altar and have no more than 3% of their Health remaining produce instant death.