At some point Freja had fallen asleep while Bjorn kept his eyes out for any potential danger. They were not in a safe location, druid or no. He still let her rest her eyes but knew they would have to keep going soon. They needed to get out of the forest and away from here as soon as possible. If there was a village there was certainly a road somewhere near here.
“Failsafe, you there?” Bjorn thought.
“Yeah. I’m just organizing a few things,” Failsafe responded promptly. “Doing some updates and running some diagnostics on your body. Before you say anything,” he sounded like he was guilty of a crime, “I know that I may have missed a few things regarding your skills.”
“Oh, you don’t say, I barely noticed,” Bjorn said sarcastically. “So, I breathe fire now?”
Failsafe responded like a kid being scolded by a parent. “Toxic purple fire, yes.”
“Any explanation as to why that is and how you didn’t know?” Bjorn asked incredulously.
“Okay-okay, let me explain. So, I may have been slacking off a bit on analyzing your skills ever since I got my own head. I assumed that both the left and right ones were the same so…”
Bjorn pointed out. “You slacked off? Aren’t you a spell, how can you slack off?”
“When I am in control of one of the heads I can’t monitor everything. It’s like I have blinders on and I can only focus on the physical,” Failsafe explained. “From what I’ve discovered, the right head is poison puff and the left one is toxic fire breath. Also, you leveled up, you should take a look.”
“Fine, but we are going to be limiting the time you get to control either head,” Bjorn stated.
“Fair enough,” Failsafe responded disappointedly.
With that he opened up the UCP menu and assigned the additional twenty points he got from leveling up twice.
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Unassigned Cultivation Points Distribution
You have leveled up 2 times before assigning your UCP.
You have 20 UCP
Please assign all UCP within 6 day(s) or UCP will be automatically assigned.
Assign [yes/no]
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Bjorn already knew where he wanted to place his points. He wanted to be able to use his magic far more freely. Apparently his poison breath and toxic fire were very potent but if he could only use them a couple times a day if they get into more trouble they were going to be in a bad situation. He may not be able to increase the amount of magic he had but he could increase the rate it returned. He put seventeen points into Magic regeneration and the last three points into vitality, restoration and constitution to increase his survivability.
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Status Menu
Name: Bjorn Salstar
Species: Unknown
+ Level: 4
+ Vitality: 16 / 35
+ Restoration: 26 / 50
+ Constitution: 9 / 15
Willpower: 8 / 15
Strength: 6 / 15
Dexterity: 12 / 20
Stamina: 7 / 15
Magic: 5 / 5
+ Magic Regeneration: 20 / 20 (+100 from bond)
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Skills Analysis
Reincarnation Failsafe
An incomplete reincarnation magic and your best friend that has your back no matter what!
Venomous Bite
Magic Cost: 0
You have a neurotoxic venom which can be injected through a bite with your fangs.
Poison Puff
Magic Cost: 1
With your right head you can mix your venom into the air using magic creating a small area of poisonous gas. This gas will reduce the health of those inside. The wider the area of effect, the less effective the poison.
+ Toxic Fire Breath
Magic Cost: 1
With your left head you can breathe a plume of superheated toxin, which will ignite enemies and infect them with your neurotoxin. Flames lose their toxicity with time, and using this ability will also drain stamina.
Poison Scratch
Magic Cost: 1
You can infuse your claws with neurotoxic venom, making even small scratches fatal overtime.
Delta Familiar Contract
Magic Cost: -100
You are a bonded delta class familiar. You gain +100 to magic regeneration. Your bond has grown, allowing you to convey your emotions though your bond. Your bond is more resilient to outside influences and cannot be forcibly severed by outside parties.
King of the Reptiles
Passive Skill
Dragons, lizards, amphibians all show hesitation and fear around you, going so far as to run away from you. More study needed.
Head Regeneration?
Magic Cost: 40-ish (Was kinda decapitated at the time so numbers may be off.)
Currently only usable if fallen beasts powers the regrowth. Major wounds including decapitation can be healed. (More study needed but not recommended we try again.)
Page 2 of 2
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Bjorn looked up from his menus and found that Freja was asleep, but this was not the place for that. He sat up and nudged her awake. Her eyes fluttered open and she tiredly petted him. He looked away trying to convey as much as possible that they needed to keep moving. He felt something in the familiar bond, a note of realization. Bjorn found that feeling her emotions was odd but at the same time reassuring. He tried as much as possible to convey support through the bond. A hollow smile crossed her lips as her hands slid across his scales.
After a few minutes Bjorn rose to his feet, stretching his body as he did. He could immediately feel the difference in his body. He felt sturdier, and oddly more alive than he had before. It was odd but having increased his constitution, vitality and restoration left him feeling good in a way he found hard to describe. It wasn’t overwhelmingly different, but everything felt crisper, each motion slightly more deliberate. It was as if he were more in the moment and present.
Freja grunted as she used the tree behind her to stand. She looked over the dark forest with grim resignation and chanted the words of power to resummon her wind hands. She picked up the staff she’d gotten from the dead druid. Took off her bookbag and tossed it to the floating hands.
Bjorn took the time to look over the dead nature creature, or what was left of him. The body had been held together by his magic, so when he died things fell apart. The fact his head was smashed in only slightly added to the already grizzly scene. What Bjorn was looking for was on the man's waist: a combat knife, the common companion to many soldiers, spell casters or not. This one was a large blade with a full knuckle guard and several runes for reasons Bjorn didn’t quite understand.
When he rejoined Freja she didn’t say anything when she took it from him. She had the free wind hand take the blade. Bjorn noticed for the first time that she had lost her alchemy case and with it her ability to make more potions. She looked to be in shock as she quietly held onto Bjorn’s tail, allowing him to guide her through the dark woodland. Bjorn was on heightened alert the last thing he needed was for them to run into more trouble.
***
It was hard to tell how long they walked before Bjorn tasted something in the air. A different aroma than the water and the natural scents of the forest. It was pack animals and someone cooking. He led Freja in that direction, and after another few minutes they saw light in the distance and heard the sounds of a group of people laughing and talking.
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“...And you should have seen him!” A deep voice spoke loudly. “Swore up and down he could push the cart out of the mud. I turned around for just a second, and next thing I know, there he is—sinking waist-deep!”
The group erupted in laughter, but another voice, higher and nervous, cut through the mirth.
“W-wait, wait. You hear that?” The second voice said.
“Don’t stop the story just because you’re embarrassed,” the first man teased, his tone playful.
“No, I’m serious. Do you hear that?” the second voice insisted.
This time, a woman joined in, her tone sharper. “Yeah, something’s out there.”
The lively sounds snapped Freja out of her daze. She crouched instinctively, her body tense, while Bjorn stepped protectively in front of her. Moving cautiously, the two crept closer, weaving through the undergrowth until they could see the source of the commotion. A small caravan had set up camp in a clearing beside a well-worn road. Four horse-drawn carts were arranged in a loose semicircle, with a lively group of people gathered around a crackling fire.
“Aye, we know you’re there!” the woman called out, her voice carrying easily across the clearing. “Might as well come out!”
“You can see them?” the first man asked, squinting into the shadows.
“I don’t see anything,” grumbled another voice, quieter and hesitant.
“Ma, I’m scared,” a younger voice piped up.
“Don’t be ridiculous, dear,” a second woman replied soothingly. “It’s probably just a rabbit or something.”
“They’re about as stealthy as a charging bull,” the sharp-voiced woman retorted. “Look, you behind the bushes—come out, or I’ll come after you!”
Bjorn froze, torn between caution and action. The group didn’t appear hostile—none of them had even risen from their spots around the fire.
***
Freja exhaled slowly, her resolve firming. She stood, brushing aside the leaves, and Bjorn followed. She walked closer to the group but stopped at a distance she felt she could possibly run back into the forest should she need to. She would have turned and ran already as it was a rather eclectic mix of races, but the sight of a fræðikona or wendigo theological scholar, what humans would call a priestess was sitting amongst them. She was the sharper voiced woman that was the one calling out to her. It meant at the very least the group was safe and not going to attack her.
Of the other species sitting around the fire there were two she recognized. The first was the small goblin woman in the group. Her green skin, tail and a beauty that would make a supermodel jealous was a dead give away for the lesser elf. There were also three male goblins, one older and two younger, who unlike the female were some of the ugliest creatures Freja had ever seen. However, that’s what goblin females like so there was no judgment from Freja.
The second was a tall gnoll male who was roasting meat at the fire, the smell of which made Freja’s mouth water. His spotted fur was largely covered by fine robes. He was slouched while he watched her, his ears up and at attention. Despite sitting down Freja could tell he was the tallest out of the group. His pseudo-canine face reminded Freja of the wolves and it made her uncomfortable.
The last person was a race Freja had never seen before. He looked like a humanoid tiger and was built like a strongman. What threw her off on pinpointing his race were the four horns growing from his head. He was the only one standing, but he hadn’t made any moves towards her. Instead he casually smoked with a long metal pipe and wore the finest multicolored robes she had seen on a foreigner. In fact all of them aside from the Fræðikona were dressed like merchants, which was the reason Freja decided to reveal herself.
“Sabec thinks that is a child,” the gnoll said.
“Oh, I think you are right, Sabec,” the horned tiger man said, he then smelled the air. “I smell blood. Hey, are you alright?”
The fræðikona was the first to approach her although she grew more hesitant when she saw Bjorn. Freja knelt down and pet Bjorn to show that he was not hostile. It also made the bond between them more visible to magical senses as others would be able to feel the connection to them. Since Bjorn was now a Delta Familiar it probably wasn’t necessary.
“I am Maiden Embla of the Lesser Isi House,” the fræðikona said softly as she took another step forward. “Are you okay?”
Embla’s tone wasn’t hostile, but it carried a guarded edge, as though she were weighing each word carefully. Now that Freja was closer, the flickering campfire light revealed more of the fræðikona’s appearance. She was snowfallen, like Freja’s mother, with pale white skin and a dusting of freckles that seemed to glow softly in the firelight. Her green robes, traditional garb of the fræðikona, were exquisite, adorned with intricate silver filigree depicting forest trees and nature in full bloom. The craftsmanship seemed alive, as though the scenes on her robes swayed faintly in the flickering light.
Freja froze for a second as she considered how to respond. She wasn’t okay of course, her body ached, she was on the verge of tears, and technically she had no family. Now most of all she was afraid that if Embla knew she was a Shai she may deny anyone aid her. For the wendigo and especially those that dedicated themselves to the Forest Father like the fræðikona, believed that trials, no matter how grueling, were sacred gifts meant to hone one's power. To reveal herself as a Shai, especially a noble family’s Shai, she may be considered weak and unworthy. Embla might see Freja’s suffering not as a plight but as her trial, a burden she was meant to face and conquer alone.
“My name is… My name is Sif.” Freja lied, her voice trembling. “I was lost and injured in the woods with my familiar. I don’t mean to intrude. I heard someone talking and I…”
She couldn’t hold herself together anymore despite her attempts to remain dignified and calm in front of the adults' scrutiny. Tears flowed freely down her face as she held onto Bjorn and wailed. The Mystic Wind Hand spells dispersed as she lost focus and the combat knife and her bookbag fell to the ground. Everyone visibly relaxed when they saw her breaking down. A tension in the air was cut, and suspicion of the mysterious blood-covered wendigo girl subsided a bit. Everyone got up, but only the goblin woman and Embla walked towards Freja. The others stayed back after the small woman waved them down.
“Oh-oh, geez,” the goblin woman said. “My name is Helina, are you hurt anywhere? Let's get you cleaned up and put some food in you.”
Embla knelt down beside Freja and helped her to her feet. “That’s your familiar and not a pet? They're not going to bite, right?”
“He is a familiar. His name is Bjorn,” Freja said between sniffles. “He is sweet and wouldn't hurt anyone.”
Helina asked as she led Freja by the hand over to the group. “Sabec, do you have any more meat besides what you're cooking there?”
The large gnoll produced several steaks from a bag way too small for the amount he pulled out.
“Sabec has plenty of meat. How does the girl want it cooked?” The gnoll asked.
Everyone was silent as Freja realized he was waiting for a response. “Seasoned raw.”
“Ah. Yes, Sabec also likes it that way.” He chuckled. “But let me show you a little trick. This is good meat, when you come back you will see.”
“Helina, can we use your tub?” Embla asked gesturing to Freja.
“Owen, get the tub,” Helina said to the oldest-looking of the male goblins.
“Of course dear,” the goblin responded. “Wyatt, Caleb, let's get the bath ready. Poor girl looks like she’s been through a lot.”
“But pa, that thing is heavy. Can’t she just go down to the river?” the younger goblin wearing a brown fur hat asked.
“Boy, if you don’t stop complaining we’re going to throw you in the river,” Owen responded.
The three male goblins all vanished into the back of a large wooden wagon; the sound of things being shifted around soon followed.
Freja said. “They don’t need to do that…”
“Foolishness, I won’t have you bathing in the river. Don’t mind my sons, they get that laziness from their grandfather, rest his bones,” Helina stated as they settled in a small clearing separate from the group. “You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to but we do have a few questions. Sif, right, how old are you?”
“Yes, and sixteen,” Freja responded.
Embla looked shocked, “So young, are you from a village around here?”
“No,” Freja stated.
“Family we can drop you off with? Or anyone looking for you?” Helina asked, and Freja shook her head. “Don’t tell me you’ve been disowned. What is it called; charingur, shag-serigant?”
“Shiagaunt,” Embla said with a sour tone.
Freja flinched visibly at the word, each syllable striking her like a physical blow. She braced herself, expecting rejection. She was a Shai, after all. Avoiding their gazes, she stared at the ground, her shoulders hunched as though waiting for the inevitable. Helina simply sighed, placing a hand on her hip. She exchanged a meaningful look with Embla before the silence was broken by the return of Owen and his sons, who rolled a wooden tub into place. About four feet in diameter, the tub looked sturdy and well-used. The goblins then retrieved a curtain, hanging it with rope and stakes driven into the ground.
“You’ve been through enough, girl,” Helina said, her voice softening. “Let’s get you cleaned up and feeling like a goblin on her All-Flowers Day.”
Freja didn’t know what the goblin All-Flowers Day was, but when she looked up to the two women she was happy to see they weren’t abandoning her. Tears nearly flowed again as she waited for the goblin males to finish putting up the curtain and retreat. Once they were done they quickly left the women to return to the campfire. The women were under the silvery light of the full moon above but only for a moment.
Helina raised her hands and murmured a short spell. Tiny droplets of water in the air shimmered to life, catching the moonlight as they slowly coalesced into glowing orbs. The droplets grew brighter, merging until several large, luminescent spheres hovered over the tub, casting a gentle radiance over the space.
With a second incantation, Helina gestured toward the tub. Steam began to rise as the wooden basin filled with warm, inviting water. Embla pulled herbs from a bag on her side. The faint scent fragrance of the herbs became a wonderful smell akin to perfume, which wafted through the air as the tub filled. Freja stared in awe, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. She glanced at Helina, who gave her a sly wink.
“Don’t look so surprised,” Helina teased. “We goblins have a few tricks up our sleeves, too.”