The big oaf went through the air, flying into the crowd. His panic made the mob panic, and they started to disperse. The two [Hunters] did not; they turned when they heard their compatriot shrieking in surprise and drew their weapons seemingly on instinct. The two priests goggled and started backing up until they bumped against a wall.
I can’t give them time to puzzle out friend or foe, though, I need to act, and I need them to back off.
“You came to My home and attacked My guest in My grove. I recommend you cut your losses little [Hunters] because the land is rather angry at you, and the next spell I cast might not leave your corpses behind.” I called out.
Fucking two-bit overgrown bandit trash, they look like they’re barely trained. Why would these barely trained dufuses be given the task of hunting the undead? Low standards. Shock and awe is probably the best plan here, if they decide they have guts, I'll need to hit them fast and hard, but rookies are more likely to surrender when faced with force.
I felt around for what I had to work with. The stone was most prevalent and immediately apparent. The air was obviously here. Torches could lend a little fire, but they would be poor as a main way to attack. There was a little water, but not a lot around here.
Water up high. The land told me, clouds.
Clouds? I can work with that.
I reached out and asked the sky to move to swirl above me. That was one of the great things about being a druid, if the natural world around you wanted to do something, you were good as gold, no spell needed. Spells were for us tiny things.
The air far above me picked up, the clouds started to gather. The light in the square started to dim as they did. That got the hunters to stop whatever they were thinking of doing and look up.
A storm starts forming, directly on top of us.
“What the fuck is going on,” the large blood-soaked man asks, confused and alarmed.
His companion, the swordswoman, looks back down and at me.
“It’s her, Chris, she’s doing something. She’s protecting that thing and casting spells! She’s a [Necromancer]!”
The crowd hears this and starts stampeding, a tide of bodies begins to press against one another with increased gusto. Trying to get away from the square, and distantly people started calling for the guards.
Good, the guards are coming, they can help sort this out. I doubt these two will kick up a fuss when the guards are coming.
The old priest looks at me and goes to speak up to deny it, he looks like one of Life’s priests, but the two morons decide, as morons do, they know everything they need to and charge.
Or I suppose they want to pick a fight anyways.
They don’t get far.
I reach down to the stone and cast a spell.
“[Mound of earth]!” A shin-high bulge of the road, ten feet across, bows up into a kind of wall, lower on the edges and taller in the middle. The big one runs into the wall, hits it and trips, faceplanting onto the cobbles. The smaller of the two does not, she catches it with one hand and vaults it, landing on her feet before continuing to run at me, sword bared.
The poor priest says something, but it’s drowned out by the crowd and her yelling as she runs towards me, and I’m in a whole new pile of compost. I haven’t exactly been in a fight before.
Oh shit, ok, I can just [Air hammer] again, I just won’t get hit. Wait, I’m an idiot I can totally brush off getting hit.
I pull in some more mana and cast [Barkskin]. My skin rapidly hardened and grew into a layer of malleable bark over my skin like armor.
The muscle head didn’t care, she closed in and swung, and I caught it on my arm. The sword bit into the bark, but not into my skin below and now it was my turn.
I stepped in closer to her, cocked my arm back and took a swing at her. My fist almost connects with her shoulder, but we both speak at the same time.
“[Air hammer],” “[Agile Dodge].”
Her body moves supernaturally fast, and my swing passes through thin air, the wind kicking up our hair in passing.
The oaf groans and pulls himself up on my tiny wall, and thankfully drops his weapon to hold his head, while I notice in the back, one of the priests runs off, and the other starts walking to the oaf with a head wound. The swordswoman backs up and takes a swing at me, and I step back and to the side to get out of the way.
We started walking. I move back, and to the side, she’s stronger than I am, and she probably knows it. Mages almost unanimously prefer range. Why take a physical class when you can take one that lets you do other stuff?
I’m a [Druid], a [Herbalist], a [Elementalist] and a [Dyer], none of which are useful at punching people, and all of which are either spell-casting or work-related.
She starts moving back into range with me, letting out a swing that I step back from the feint and right into a thrust that catches my shoulder. Lucky for me it's not strong enough to pierce through the bark, and it doesn’t come out as easily. She gets the bright idea to punch at me, and not being able to get out of the way, her fist connects with my face. It’s quite a punch, I get to feel it through the bark, but fortunately for me, it obviously hurts her more.
“Fuck.” She steps back, letting go of the sword, and I get to pull it out and toss it away.
“You’re not exactly the brightest person alive, but I would expect even you know not to punch a tree.” I quip automatically.
I need to think about this… I bet with how fast she is, she’s over level 20. Not particularly wise, so resilient, and more of a chatterbox than a thinker with how she got her buddy Chris to just charge at me, man this is not a good situation for me to have tried to intimidate them, I definitely did not approach this right. Low mental stats. More dexterity than hard mussel, by the look of it. What type of classes am I fighting, and how do I take advantage of it…
“Fuck off, twinkle fingers, your time is numbered now that we know about you, [Necromancer]!”
We start to circle as she tries to get to her sword, back and forth. She can’t hurt me, and I don’t want to let her get to her sword.
“I think you’ll find I will be just fine, I’m not a necro; I might have to pay a fine for damages and disturbing the peace, but you have done MUCH worse than I have, miss kidnap and Torture.”
She smirks, and her eyes flicker behind me before I hear, the old man cries out, and she steps out of the way. I don’t even turn I just stomp my foot.
“[Power shot],”“[Earthen shield].”
I cast, just in time to get hit by the debris of the wall that forms behind me and a significantly slower crossbow bolt several sizes larger than normal. The combination of debris and bolt cause me to swing a little to the side, and the swordswoman rushes to grab her sword while I look in astonishment at the hole that leads through the half a foot of broken brickwork and magically packed earth. And I am very suddenly reminded that there is more than one of them.
The clouds overhead darken the square as they swirl, and in my bemusement, I realize I have abandoned the plan.
Ok, focus… I can’t just stay with small-scope spells. I need to take my opponents out of the fight before one of them manages to actually hurt me. Shock and Awe.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
I reach out and cast a more mana-consuming spell, I lean around the earthen wall and Draw.
I shout the spell out as the chunky [Arbalist] levels the huge crossbow at me, “[Wall of Stone].” The square rumbles as a two-foot-thick wall or solid stone slams up from between the paving stones and goes from my [Earthen shield] to the closest temple wall. I heard the bolt plink off of it a moment later, the sound suspiciously close to my head.
The moron with the sword, now once again with a sword, starts rushing towards me, yelling, and I turn to her and cast another spell.
“Die twinkle fing-Ugh.” She yells as a [Shot put] slams into her gut and folds her like laundry. She smacks to the ground, curls up and hurls on the stones.
I decided to keep her down while Chris called out for his companion as I cast [Earthen grasp] to pin her down where she is.
One down, one to go.
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I sat in utter confusion as I watched Clubsalot hurtle through the air, an inelegant screaming ragdoll.
It was astounding. He slammed into the crowd, and miraculously, they all got out of the way as he slammed down, let out a noise and collapsed. I could see the ones that had thrown the stones freak out first and start pushing away, the shitters. Rats, fleeing from a guardian angel and what a memorable angel she was.
She spoke, and I knew who it was in a moment. I knew her by her hair and crown of flowers, by the profile of her face as she came into view. I knew her by the way she spoke and stood in the corner of my vision, and I could just barely make out the smell of flowers amongst the blood.
My guardian angel Annabeth yelled at the stooges. And I watched, unable to help, as they started fighting.
I watched the meat mountain that had carried me here slam into the wall, and then Anna and the swordswoman rushed out of my field of vision. The priest marched up to the big oaf and tried to tell him something, and he pushed the old man to the ground and got into a fight.
Through the pain of the iron, the malaise of coming back so many times, and the compression of the chains and the feeling of being misshapen, only one thing registered enough to punch through the haze of my mind. I watched that oaf batter the old man, and I felt FURIOUS. I was overcome with a sudden urge to rip my way out of the chains and beat him to death in the square.
I’m going to beat his ass, hold on, old man.
I started to worm my way over, inching over to where he fell over. Sliding across the stones, careful not to rip out too many spikes and knock myself out before I could be made whole and free again. I inched and inched as the old man who was holding himself in pain collected himself. The earth shifted below us, and I saw the oaf shoot toward Anna.
The old man looked at me, and I looked at him and garbled and quiet as could be said, “Help me.” It came out garbled, but he looked at me and despite the clamour of the crowd fleeing and the fight, he heard me. He started to make his way over to me.
The big guy freaked out and started to move away from us. And ten seconds after he left, the priest got to me and started to look me over. I could tell he spoke an oath, but I have no idea what it was, there was something about phases that made them all sound the same. I moved the spike in my face towards him, and he grasped it.
He looked incredibly uneasy, which was probably justified. I can only imagine how gross I am, and that’s without the big Iron spikes.
“fhull.” I slurred out. And he did, wincing a little, but he did. And he helped me regain mobility.
Pulling out spike after spike, loosening the chains until I could help, feebly removing the spikes. I felt boneless and more dead than alive when it was done, and flopped on my back. The old man winced along with me as Annabeth did something horrifically loud and bright. I could feel another end coming, but at this point, what’s a little more death?
“Tanch yuu, [Priest of Life]. Bac suun” I told him.
He looked confused at me, then seemed to get it. He looked at me a little hesitant, and I died. Again.
This time though, I was waiting for it. I felt towards the skill I had been forced to get acquainted with, I held onto [True Immortality] like my life depended on it. I felt myself fall and hit the veil. And I bounced right back into my body. I gasped as it mended, no longer filled with spikes or contorted, it fixed my broken malformed body. It was euphoric, no little pains or wrongness, no feeling of fugue, I stared up at the sky and it started to rain.
I looked at the priest and smiled, “See back.”
He looked at me in utter bewilderment, like he had just watched a miracle. I wasn’t feeling that, but I stood and offered him a hand.
“Up, rain.” I told him, and I stood up and rolled my shoulders a little.
He stared at my hand, blinking. I started to gesture to him, trying to hurry him out of his confusion, “up, up.”
There is no time old man, Anna can’t fight forever, and I will only spend so long helping you out of the rain.
He reached up towards me, and I helped him stand all the way up. I led him over to an overhang to get him out of the rain and was about to leave him so I could get my revenge on him when he stopped me. The old man looked at me with soft and worried eyes and looked into mine. He looked so normal like he could stand in for a hundred people’s grandfathers and never get caught. He asked me a question, but he started his question in a way that I could feel was magical in nature. I could only pick up “You” in the first half, but the end of his question was “are you?”
Something, something, what are you? I felt something from the old man, the same something I felt when the [Arbalist] hit him. That feeling felt like a connection. Though I have no idea why it exists. I suppose I can ask about that after I flatten the remaining [Hunters].
I just said, “[Saint of Death],” in the same tone I would say my name and walked away from the goggling old man. I made my way to the wall where the big fucker dropped his weapon when he hit his head and hefted it up.
It was a big stick with a metal cap. The inelegant weapon was designed for someone that didn’t think too hard about combat, or didn’t know much about combat, or maybe knew a whole lot about combat. I certainly was not an expert on big sticks, so I had no idea. It was long and uniform except for the cap, like a big walking stick. Are walking sticks a tool? Yes was [Tool handling]’s answer.
“Fantastic.” I decided.
I was free of my bonds and ran at the big fucker with the crossbow and joined in the fight. He didn’t hear me until it was too late, I had no clanky boots to tap on the cobbles, and my sandals were leather and soft. He was crouched and holding up his crossbow to take a shot when he started to turn around, and I started our fight much like the other member of their team that I had fought before. I smashed him twice over the head with the big stick, and he started freaking out.
He reached over with his big hand and groped towards the stick, trying to block or grab it. I stepped around him and smashed down on the crossbow. Two hits, one broken crossbow. He didn’t have the skill to protect it, I suppose.
Better for me.
He flailed out at me, and his arm connected with my torso. I was shoved back, but all it did was displace me and I landed on my feet on the wet cobbles, sure in my footing. He went to stand and slipped on his back.
He was vulnerable, and I capitalized on it. I swung down at him, and he raised his arms to protect himself.
I don’t want to be weak!
I slammed the stick down and heard him scream.
I don’t want to be a victim of circumstance.
I slammed the stick down again and heard something break.
I don’t... No, I won’t let scum step over me.
I went to hit him again, I could feel the rage baying for his blood and managed to stop. There was rage in me, swirling around in my brain. It made me want to kill the man crying in front of me.
What the hells is wrong with me? Where did this come from? This isn’t who I am!
I stepped back from him, and he curled up and pulled his arm close to his chest. Protecting his head with his good hand. I stood there in the rain and checked my thoughts. The world was quiet as the clouds opened up, and it started to pour.
I had been wronged; I won’t deny that. But why am I so angry now? I wanted to get away from them earlier. I was in a fugue up until… he hit the priest.
The priest of the goddess of Life, the goddess closest to Death, the goddess I was a saint of.
The feeling of connection with the priest, knocked me out of my daze. These are not my emotions; this is not me.
I pushed the feeling back. I breathed in, and out.
I might hate them, I might think they’re trash, but I’m not a murderer.
“Stay,” I told the nearly seven-foot man, and I pulled back from him. Fighting back the fury. Cudgelling it into submission.
The old man is safe, but I am not going to murder this man. Back Off.
I didn’t let it make me hit him. I wanted to take a swing at him, I wanted to kill the man, I wanted to beat him until he broke, and I refused to do it. I held it off for a minute, then another. The rain poured down, and the blood ran from my shredded clothes, pooling in between the cobbles.
There were people coming into the square, clanking around. Annabeth was looking at me, but it was all I could do to not take a swing at him.
I am better than this, and better than them! I don’t care if you’re a goddess, I won’t do it!
I closed my eyes, to make sure the people flooding the square didn’t attack me on sight. The worst part was that it was a part of myself. It was not like the fog monster, enchanting me to walk off into the mist, it was like a part of myself acting without my acknowledgement. My body wanted to move, the rage in my head made me want to jump him like a mindless creature and maul him until he was a corpse.
Then one of the people called out to Anna and walked over with what are presumably guards. I could see the man’s head moving, disturbing the air, before he gestured in our direction and said something. It took four of them to grab the giant man to get him up and drag him away.
It was only when he had been dragged behind a wall of guards that the violent inferno of rage sputtered out like it had never existed, and I fell to my knees. I dropped the stick and started panting, empty of the drive that got me to get free, my ears drooped.
What a terrible day.
Annabeth tugged on my tattered top, and after a few seconds, I got up. “Thank you, Anna,” I told my guardian angel. She just reached for my hand, and I took it, she squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back.
Angry me had a point, though, I needed to get stronger. I won’t let my life be an unending repeat of today. One day Anna might need help, and I will save her when she needs it just like she did today, all I have to do is get strong enough, and I know a way of getting stronger.