The pale gray grass in front of me stands still, the field seemingly almost frozen in time from the lack of activity. Not even a simple breeze. Decades ago, this would have been a vibrant green field with many beasts to hunt and wind causing the grass to wave gently. Now? The realm is dead. As of this moment, only the more intelligent species are still hanging on. Occasionally, larger animals will be sighted, buying our clan a few more days at a time. Sure, we have food reserves but they are finite and these large prey-beast are running on their fat reserves which are finite. We need to find a food source fast.
“Lady Runa, there’s no sign of the prey.” the younger varulven reports to me, his sharp canid features and amber furred lanky frame appearing slowly out of the shadows near me snout first. My guards sudden appearance cutting off my internal lament over the dying state of the world. I'd prefer to travel alone with a few undead by my side, but not even the dead stir now.
“Ah, I figured. I’d be surprised if anything that big was still roaming, but it was worth seeking the potential feast anyway. Well then, Fram.” I say as I shakily grasp my staff and pull myself to my feet. “I suppose we should head back then before we’re spotted.” However, Fram just stares at me without answering. After a few moments of awkwardly staring at each other I have to break the silence and ask “Is there something else?”
He starts breathing heavier through bared teeth and his hackles stand up slightly and he splays his ears back. “I saw man tracks. They tried hiding their tracks, but between five and ten with heavy gear. They’re not far, but we might lead them back to the village if we go now.” His aggressive green eyes looking back over his shoulder as if looking out for men.
In the past, the relationship between our peoples wasn’t horrible, but it also wasn’t great. Hells, the humans at least thought us var were cute. However, with the state of the world as it is, other intelligent species have a direct and pressing incentive to eliminate competition for what little food is left. We had lost half our hunters in the past 6 months and often due to the interactions with other sapient species, and man was our worse match. Both of our species were endurance predators, but they were noticeably larger than us and better at it than us. We had claws and stronger magic, but with magic dead and our people starving we’ve found it hard to compete with their trickery and tenacity.
And then comparing the potential human hunters to me: I was getting on in years, starving slowly which left me drained and weak, and being a witch and necromancer in a world where the flow of makta died makes me effectively useless in combat. A middle aged var that never had physical skills to start with and no other defenses against a group of fully geared man-beasts. Great.
“Fram. Flee, get to the village safe and warn them. The humans obviously did something to trick the others. I dont know what their game is but its a trap.” I tell the young var, with as comforting a smile as I can wear under the circumstances. He’s a scout, and very good at covering his tracks. He’ll be fine.
“Ma’am! No! I can’t just abandon you! Makta doesn’t flow anymore, you’ll be helpless as a caster… And how can you tell me to leave an ELDER behind and ALONE? I couldn’t live with myself!” he cries, with a mix of panic and sorrow in his eyes. “And I still have a lot to learn about makta… the flow is dead but some touch spells can still work.” he continues, rambling on as I let his words drift into the background for a moment.
Elder, huh? I feel almost offended. This gangly pumpkin of a pup is making me feel a lot older than I am. I’m about 40, what part of that screams elder? He’s only like 15 years younger than me too, he’s not too far from where I am. Or at least it feels like it went fast for me. I mean… I do look and… feel older than I should but I think that-
He gestures with his paws open and continues, interrupting my intrusive thoughts as he goes to continue his argument “Pl-”
However, before I get lost in further thought I stave off further protest by bonking his snout with my staff gently. “I said go. Although death is a likely outcome for me I do also have a contingency. I also told you I’m not taking on disciples, I was just teaching you the now useless and esoteric knowledge out of boredom.” He doesn’t leave. Fram looks like he’s about to talk back, so I give him another bonk. “And I’m middle aged at worst.” I add an additional bonk for good measure.
“L-lady Runa! Stop! I’ll… I’ll go. Please survive.” stammers as he stumbles back from my bonk assault. After a second of gazing sorrowfully, he turns and effectively vanishes. It’s a bit unfair that some internal skills still work yet all external magic is seemingly dead.
“Good bye, pup. I hope you guys can find a way to survive.” I say quietly when I know he’s well out of earshot as I start to walk in the opposite direction of the village.
As I walk, I take out a crystal core from my inventory and check the front page of my stats for the last time.
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Name: Lady Runa
Species: Mountain-Varulven (Var)
Class: Witch-sage
Coven Affiliation: Coven of the Risen Hand (no known surviving members)
Level: 73
Attributes
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Strength: 12
Endurance: 11
Willpower: 56
Finesse: 24
Swiftness: 20
Insight: 31
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Titles: Cosmic explorer, clan elder, widow, former first apprentice of a coven council member
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
Active Effects: Phylactery connection (live connection), arthritis, spinal stenosis, makta depletion (severe), "middle-aged"
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I half feel like the core is mocking me with some of these titles and effects. Though, I guess it can see through the fact that my ashen colored fur covers up signs of early aging. I guess vars don’t luck out by living up to about a hundred years of age like man do. Had I still had access to magics, I could have pushed back the tides of age indefinitely but… that’s not an option anymore.
Focusing back at the core, it’s a small dodecahedron shaped crystal that easily fits in the palm of ones hand. It glows faintly as it shifts colors, becoming more active when you give it something to process. Mine is too small to be fully sapient, but it is useful to give an approximation of my ‘stats.’ This gives me a sense of progress or a way to compare ones strength and weaknesses against others. An advanced core can even give others ‘stats’ on the fly to give you real time threat analysis and strategy. However, it can be inaccurate and different cores not seeded from the same source may give different values. If I had more time, I’d like to have used this more since cores will keep a portion of the makta energies used on them to grow and become more complex.
However, the primary reason I’m looking at these one last time is to make sure it still shows my phylactery connection as active. And it is. I’m not sure what will happen since magic is currently dead world wide. But my phylactery isn’t on world, it’s in orbit above a body farther out in this realm. I had a planar observatory there, and was only on world to pick up supplies when everything… stopped.
The transportation arrays all became inactive, trapping me here without most of my equipment. It wasn’t just the arrays. In the blink of an eye, all magic stopped, plants ceased growing, undead which were generally used for industry or labor fell apart. Sentient undead all grasped their heads and fell too. Life, color, and magic all drained away with a few odd exceptions. Skills reliant on the body functioned fine, cores still ran fine, golems could still move and apparently my phylactery was still connected.
While deep in thought, I hear a sound in the distance behind me. I let out an unsteady sigh as I put the core along with all other valuables into my subspace inventory, yet another thing that somehow still works. If I do appear on my observatory as a lich I will still have my gear. Even if I don’t, it will at least prevent these men from taking anything of value aside from my life.
I keep walking as if I heard nothing, and they don’t approach. I guess they’re pulling the endurance predation move of following someone till they’re worn down. “I’d do the same, who would have figured we have so much in common” I joke to myself quietly as I continue on.
Eventually, night falls and I set up a makeshift camp. As I try to sleep, every few minutes I hear a stick break, or a bush rustle. I think they’re trying to also prevent me from getting sleep, which is wise. I might look old for my kind, but they’re not taking any chances.
As I finally start to drift asleep, I feel a sharp pain in my left shoulder. I let out a pained bark and growl. Blood. Oh, a spear. Did they really throw a spear at me? I never really thought I’d end up getting taken out by such a primitive weapon. I try to get to my feet as I pull the spear out, but stumble and fall flat on my back. I see the glint of eyes above me, as a large vaguely round object is lifted above the things head. I lock eyes with the human, his eyes shift to sorrow as he hesitates for a moment. The man says something in a soft voice I don’t quite understand before he swiftly lowers the apparent rock towards my skull. A wet cracking sound and horrible pain followed by darkness.
And then there was no darkness, replaced with distant shimmering marbles and an endless expanse between. There is a soft light far in the distance, and an even softer tugging sensation. And then suddenly the tugging sensation was anything but soft. It feels like I was attached to the distant light via an elastic string, and whoever was priming me for launch had just released one end. Is the light my phylactery?
And without warning, I pass through the light, continuing far beyond it. I feel as though whatever was connected to me snap, leaving me loose as I fly through this void. At some point I smash through what felt like very thin ice, as I'm suddenly bombarded with sensory overload of light and color. The vast distances in the vastness of the ethereal space makes me as I feel like I'm motionless. While I hang limp in this unknown limbo, I can see rainbow rivers and pastel clouds connecting an innumerable amount of resplendent clusters of multicolored orbs that I wish I could ponder longer. There are creatures of a cosmic scale floating with a deadly menace within the void. They are covered in typhlotic eyes, gaping mouths and slick looking skin that barely reflects the ambient light of the surrounding orbs.
And then I feel as though I was suddenly sped up once again, falling towards one of these prismatic clusters. I feel the sensation of breaking through ice again and then things go dark.
My eyes fly open as I lay flat on my back, looking up to a freshly shattered moon over an alien deep blue sky, accompanied by a meteor shower. I sit up slowly trying to check for the shoulder wound that isn’t there, and in the process I notice that I’m injured but not in any of the ways I recall.
I’m covered with fresh scrapes and bruises, and have a lot more meat on me than I recall. And… my fur color is different. Wasn’t I an ashen gray? Why is my fur suddenly snowy with red accents? No wait, I'm still confused, the red isnt part of the fur.
After a few moments of self observation, I notice some things which are off. I feel younger, maybe young adult aged, maybe 20s. I seem to be a different variant of var: slightly different body build, significantly shorter, thicker white fur. “W-what the fuck?” I say to myself quietly. The crass words roll off my tongue in an almost automated fashion.
Before I can process any more, the ringing in my ears I didn't really notice till now starts die down as my focus shifts to the environment around me. I hear some screaming muffled by my ringing ears, strange sharp and sudden noises pierce the air around me. I see ruined buildings, piles of rubble, and limp mangled bodies. I smell blood, death, and distant fire.
“Don’t worry, I got ya little lich lady. Let’s get somewhere safe ASAP.” someone says as I’m hoisted up and held in their arms. It’s a large human, who then proceeds to sprint through the fire and mayhem with unnatural speed.
“Excuse me, but what the fuck is happening?” I ask quietly as my thin veneer of collected calm has long since left me. He doesnt respond as we crest a pile of rubble. This brings into view mountains of meat writhing in the distance, fires, explosions, corpses melted into walls and floors, and what looks like a recent flood with water still covering most of adjacent streets.
Did I become a lich? I thought being a lich would be less living and meaty. If at a cursory glance at my body I can’t tell then how can he? I’m the one in this meat right now, I feel like I should know better but everything is odd, off, weird.
I look up at the human carrying me. Circlet on head, flowing blond hair, buff, and glistening vaguely bronze skin. He’s slightly damp from the moisture humans produce when exerting themselves as some sort of cooling mechanism. Gross, I dislike everything about this. The man kind of reminds me of something out of those cheesy human romance novels. “Where are we going? What’s going on?” I question the stranger in a common tongue I can somehow speak but don’t recognize.
“There’s a shelter nearby. If we bunker down there the surviving militia said they’d get someone to escort us out of all this,” he responds through his slightly labored breathing. “As far as what’s going on… I… I don’t know. There was suddenly angry meat everywhere and the moon shattered.”
A few minutes of silence follow before he puts me down near some large doors in a recess on the ground. “I think this is it.” he says, as we both walk forward. The large metallic doors slide open to allow us entry. In a daze I walk over to a seating area and just collapse into a heap. A blue porky orc walks around handing everyone blankets. Once I receive my complementary trauma quilt, I wrap myself within it like a small canine burrito and take my core back out of my inventory to check the stats again.
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Name: Siga (Lady Runa)
Species: Sky-Varulven (living-dead lich)
Class: Fallen-star Lich (First ascent)
Coven Affiliation: Coven of the Risen Hand (no known surviving members, former affiliation)
Level: 5 (73)
Attributes
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Strength: 10 (12)
Endurance: 11 (11)
Willpower: 30 (56)
Finesse: 10 (24)
Swiftness: 13 (20)
Insight: 27 (31)
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Titles: Cosmic explorer, clan elder, widow, transmigrator, independant discoverer of the Fallen-Star Phylactery, former first apprentice of a coven council member
Active Effects: Phylactery connection (disconnected/unknown), confusion, concussed, new meat disorientation, injured (moderate), soul body attuning period (48 hours left), lichdom
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With little more fanfare, I put my core away and curl up in the oversized blanket. I'll attempt to process this later.