The world was dark. Tarin had no idea how long he had slumbered in the shallow water, letting small waves lap away at him and watching a river of souls flow by above him.
He vaguely had a sense that the darkness should put him on edge, but nothing truly scared him any longer. Slowly, as waves washed over him, the fear and worries had all washed away leaving behind only a sense of serene tranquility.
He did still vaguely hold recollections of his previous life. That world was full of life, of light. He knew he had loved and been loved in turn, but also that his story had ended far too soon for his liking.
On arriving to these endless shallows, he had kicked and screamed, raged and punched at the water defying the flow of nature. Slowly however, the relentless waves had soothed him and begun to erase him.
His self had retreated deep within, shielding itself with walls of memories and hoping against all odds that something would happen to save it from destruction.
Tarin knew better. He knew he would fade here, but his apathy didn’t let him hope for a difference, for a change.
And so there he laid. Days, weeks, years, centuries: they flowed like water around him as he didn’t even note their passage. The world remained unchanging, small waves pulled at him gently as he stared up at the river of empty souls that flowed through the sky.
Soon, he knew the last walls, the most precious memories, would be eroded and his self would be washed away, leaving him to join that river as well.
Until, that is, a tugging began.
The first new sensation he had felt since he entered this world, it spiked his self’s hope. Indulging it as he knew it would soon fade, Tarin turned to examine the tug.
It was a childlike figure. Kneeling above the water, it trembled as it prayed.
Straining to hear, Tarin’s self begged him to lift his head above the water. Shrugging apathetically, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Then he heard it.
“Please! I beg you Goddess! I have been faithful to you my entire life. My Mother is on her deathbed and I must make it home from your shrine, but those Raiders have trapped me here! “
The child choked up, letting loose a cry of fear as he turned to look at something visible only to him and not to Tarin.
Turning back he began to fervently plead again.
“Please Mother Alimestra! They’ll kill me, I know they will! I beg you, if not for my sake then for my mother’s and my baby sister’s. They won’t survive if I don’t make it back with your holy water!”
A rage began to well up in Tarin’s self as it ordered him to reach out and help the child. He however, had had enough of its nonsense. It was time for him to be reborn with a new self, what use did he have for some strange child?
Trying to lie down in the water again, Tarin found himself struggling to control his body as he began to reassert himself over his body.
Tarin shook his head and fought back. He was the new self, he would be reborn through the river of souls, and not lose to this old relic of his previous life!
The two found a fragile balance, freezing in place sitting in the water as they struggled for control of their soul: the old Tarin who wished to help the child, and the new who couldn’t care less.
Then the child cried out once more, looking with terror behind him and scooting away on his back from an invisible threat.
With that, Tarin redoubled his efforts, striking at the callous new personality that had entered his soul. Struggling with his full might, he could only push himself up to his knees.
Then a sense of peace descended on him as the soul that attempted to control his body flowed off out of him and back into the shallow water.
A soft, female voice flowed out.
“I have aided you in regaining control of yourself. In exchange for this favor, I fully expect you to keep my follower safe. Will you do that Spirit?”
The voice ended its request with a slight edge in its tone. The threat to his continued safety clearly implied.
Tarin snorted. “I would have helped your follower even without the threat. All I need is for you to tell me how exactly I should get to him.” he replied in his gravelly voice which, much to his relief, he still prided himself on. The cursed waves had not taken everything from him.
“Grab onto his image. The two of you will be bound, and he will pull you to him in his need” the voice replied with a hint of relief.
Waving a rude gesture to the river of souls that had remained his constant companion, he reached out and grabbed on to the child.
The moment his hand made contact with the phantom, he felt an excruciating pain. His body, at least what little was left of it after the waves had dissolved him, tore apart. Atom by Atom, he felt squeezed through a hole in a wall separating worlds. Then came the most painful experience.
Slowly, he reformed. Atom by Atom, piece by piece, he felt the energy of the world clad his soul in a body. As his soul connected to his new physical body fully, he almost blacked out from the sheer sensory overload. The only thing keeping him from succumbing to his senses was the image of the child cowering in terror before an unknown threat.
Roaring with rage and agony, he stood to face the threat… only to find nothing. The world he was in was blank, a silent, white void even emptier than the river of souls he had existed in previously.
Looking down, he observed his new form for the first time. Standing on two legs, he felt tall, nonetheless, with nothing around him to compare his height to he decided to relegate his decision on that to the future.
More interesting were the scales covering his body and the two heavy wings he felt on his back along with a long stout tail. Reptilian in nature, his scales were like thin slate gray tilesthat meshed together across his entire body.
His tail was also reptilian. Thick and cordlike, It couldn’t quite wrap around him. Nonetheless, he had to admit it was strong after a few experimental swings nearly knocked him off his feet. At its very tip, a single serrated talon served to add another weapon to his broad arsenal.
His wings, on the other hand, were massive and almost leathery as he observed upon touching them with his clawed fingers. Stretching from his ankles to about an arm's length above his shoulders, when extended they were nearly twice his arm span.
As he scratched his snout, he pondered his new form briefly. It felt... Strange. Nonetheless, He was relieved it was powerful. Furthermore, he was already beginning to settle into his new body with its corded muscles and hardened scales.
Suddenly, a window flashed before his eyes.
[window]Your contractor is pleading for your aid! Will you enter the world of Olarin and help him? Yes / No [/window]
Startled by the window, he frowned. Who was this contractor?
Instantly his mind locked on the child he had seen in the river of souls. It was only logical he reasoned: the only other being he had met wouldn’t beg for his aid, she would demand it.
Shrugging, he reached forward to press yes. After all, even if the child wasn’t his contractor anything would be better than the emptiness he currently found himself in.
Unfortunately, his hand passed straight through the message.
Frustrated, he tried again only to have the same result.
“Yes” he spoke, trying a different approach.
The message remained, flashing blue in his face. It seemed almost smug.
“I’ll help! I accept! Beam me down!”
Still the message floated there, having the nerve to punctuate each flash with a slight ding, as if to further mock him.
Roaring with frustration, he launched his fist forward to obliterate the insect before him from existence only for a portal to open before him in its place.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Unable to stop himself in time, he tumbled forward through it cursing that smug window the whole way.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Aris
It had been three months since everything started to go wrong. First, the rains had returned with a vengeance. The people in Aris’s village had rejoiced. Their crops had almost died as the summers continued to be filled with drought and the rain’s return marked a hope for a good harvest. The first good harvest in the many years since their Duchy had been cursed by the Emperor.
Slowly, however, the hope turned to despair as the rains refused to stop. Water cascaded from the skies and beat the desiccated crops into the muddy ground, never giving them a chance to grow. The few crops that were strong enough to survive the pounding rains after the months of drought rotted and died in the flooded fields.
Still, the water continued to pour. Outhouses and wells flooded, welling up and mixing together at the surface as new rivers of water tore the farmers’ shacks from their crumbling foundations.
Aris was lucky: His family’s house lie on a hill overlooking the village sparing him the worst of the flood. Nonetheless, even that could not spare him the horrors of what followed.
The shallow waters had faded after two months, but in their place a plague began to spread. Transmitted by the corrupted water from the wells and catalyzed by the cramped conditions the villagers were forced to live in following the floods, it rapidly infected the everyone.
As a Level Five Healer Aris’s mother sought to contain it and save as many lives as she could. Through her valiant efforts against a shortage of herbs, and the severity of the disease she managed to preserve the lives of everyone in the village, everyone except her sister.
Stricken by grief at his loss, she retreated into her room taking only Ella, Aris’s infant sister with her. There the plague struck her. Having ignored the symptoms until it was far too late, both she and Ella fell deathly ill.
Anguished by their visible decline, Arin helped as much as he could. He went out daily to gather herbs and desperately prayed to Alimestra, the Mother Goddess to heal the two of them, even if it cost him his life. He was met with only silence as they continues to grow worse. Until one day, as he woke up, his mother called him over.
She had locked herself in as soon as she realized she was sick, so Arin had to stand outside the window to speak to her and see his sister.
He could see his mother clearly through the window sitting up serenely on the bed and smiling sadly at him.
“Morning mom!” He brightly greeted her. He always tried to stay optimistic for her even when her condition kept worsening. Now, however, his hope was not faked. He hadn’t seen her sitting up for days!
“Good Morning Ari.” She replied softly, her voice barely making it to his ears.
“Mom! I thought you’d stop calling me that. I’m 15 now! Almost a man.” Aris replied with faked indignation.
“Hmph,” his mother harrumphed as a reply,” You’ll always be my little Ari!”
Aris rolled his eyes as his mother softly giggled.
“How are you feeling today Mom?” Aris asked hesitantly after a moment of silence.
“Better. Much better.” She replied much to his relief.
“Thank the goddess for that!” Aris replied emphatically.
“Indeed…” his mother replied softly. Looking up after a moment, she spoke up again “Aris, can I ask you for something?”
“Anything Mom! What is it?” Aris replied instantly.
“I feel better, but this is only temporary. The plague will hit me again, and much harder than last time.” she murmured tiredly.
“No…” Aris whispered unbiddenly as tears began to well up in his eyes.
“Don’t worry Ari, there’s a way to cure Ella and I,” she continued reassuringly.
“What is it? I’ll do anything!” He yelled out, causing his sister to cry out in displeasure from her crib on the other side of the room.
“I used the blessed water from the shrine of Alimestra in the hills to cure the villagers of the plague. Unfortunately, I had to use all of the water there to save them. When I fell sick, there wasn’t any left to save Ella and I.” she explained.
“It’s been two weeks since I collected the water there. By now the fountain should have filled again.” she continued.
Filled with hope, Aris exclaimed,” So if I just go gather some of the water from the shrine you’ll get better?!”
“Yes my Love,” she answered softly. “Take your father’s old canteen and fill it to the top. That should be enough to cure both of us of the plague. I’d ask some of the men from the village to go with you but…” she let her train of thought trail off sadly.
“Don’t worry mom. I don’t need help from the likes of them anyways…” Aris replied darkly. The people of the village had showered the “Blessed Widow on the Hill”, as they called his mother, with gifts after she cured them. Many even pledged an oath to give eternal aid to her and her children.
Aris was shocked when none of them chose to respect their promises once she fell ill. Soon, his shock turned to disgust as they barred him from the village he had grown up in simply for fear that he would return the plague to them.
Only the kindest of the hunters, a man named Olem, still helped them and even he refused to go farther than leaving food in a basket on their doorway every morning.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can Mom!” Aris shouted over his shoulder as he ran to grab the canteen.
“Be careful!” His mom strained to call out to him. In his exuberance however, she was left shaking her head as her shout fell upon empty air.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Aris’s breath came out in regular heaves as his feet rhythmically pounded the ground. He was, in his opinion, in good shape, having worked on his parents’ farm his entire life, but even that coupled with the boundless enthusiasm he felt at the potential cure for his mother and sister couldn’t stop tiredness from setting in.
Forced to admit he could no longer keep up his running pace, he slowed down to a walk. Grinning ruefully, he let himself gasp for air as he turned to estimate how far he had come.
Judging from the sun’s height in the sky, he realized that it had hardly been two hours since he left the village. Jogging non-stop, he had already crossed half of the distance to the shrine.
Aris felt like he had made good time, and, feeling tired, sat down on a flat, sunlit boulder to rest. Opening the small pack of provisions he had taken with him, he pulled out an apple and began to snack while looking out on his home.
Quickly finishing the fruit, he stood up to stretch in preparation for the second half of his run when an arrows skittered off of the very place he had been sitting. In shock and fright, he leaped backward and searched the tall grasses surrounding the hills for threats.
He found them. Many of them. 5 pairs of beady eyes stared back at him.
[window] Goblin Raider Level 4 [/window]
[window] Goblin Raider Level 1 [/window]
[window] HobGoblin Raider Level 6 [/window]
[window] Goblin Raider Level 1 [/window]
[window] Goblin Raider Level 2 [/window]
The Goblins were small, barely 3 feet tall. Green skinned and clad in skins and pelts, they were armed with only primitive weapons, shortbows and bone knives carved from their victims. Aris knew that to most adventurers, goblins were a mere pest. With racial traits that actually hindered their strength and growth, they were only truly dangerous when they grouped together to form a horde.
A hobgoblin was slightly trickier, but still manageable to most travelers. Slightly stronger and five feet in height, they fought as leaders of small groups of goblins, letting their subordinates distract the prey while they snuck in from behind and secure the kill with the bone or rusty metal axes they carried. Even with their stealthy nature, any competent warrior could easily defeat them once they came out into the open.
Aris; however, was by no means an adventurer. As a classless, he could only reach level one leaving him hopelessly unprepared for any form of combat.
For a second, they just stared at each other blankly, the goblins having expected their shot would kill him and Aris suddenly aware of his own mortality. The goblins broke the peace first. Leaping forward on stubby legs, they yipped and ululated as they closed the distance with alarming speed.
Arin, for his part, reacted quickly. Deciding to not risk leading the goblins back to his family, he darted off towards Alimestra’s shrine.
The Run was grueling. While small in stature, goblins were still monsters. As such, they had far greater stamina than humans and moved with a relentless viciousness. For his part, Aris settled into a pattern to try and maximize his energy.
Using the hills to his advantage, he climbed slowly and let gravity speed him on the way down as he rested. Nonetheless, even with his longer legs and greater speed, the goblins tireless chasing brought them closer and closer to him.
As he looked back to see their screeching, malicious faces not two steps back from him, Aris knew that if this dragged on any longer, he would be caught. Already his limbs were growing heavy and he tasted a metallic blood in the back of his throat.
Pushing forward with all his remaining strength, he crested the hill and finally saw his goal: Alimestra’s shrine.
Nestled in a mountain valley, the shrine was a small, sturdy cabin. In front of it lay a small pool of blessed water, fed by a raging waterfall at the edge of the ravine. Two streams, curving away from the valley drained the excess water away.
Aris darted in between the two massive stone boulders that marked the way into the valley. Nearly stumbling on the soft mossy ground and gnarled roots of the titanic trees the formed a large canopy, shading the shrine, he nonetheless managed to leap into the cabin and bar the flimsy wooden door.
Air let himself slide to the ground inside the door as the goblins began to pound and shove on the outside. He knew it wouldn’t hold for long. When he had stared down the group of goblins down, he had seen the glint of bronze at the hobgoblin’s waist. Soon, it would push its followers out of the way and start to hack away.
Sure enough, a brief halt to the pounding was immediately followed by a rhythmic thudding. Even after only a few blows, holes were beginning to be visible as the old, dry wood crumpled under the force.
Crawling forward desperately, Aris knelt and began to plead with Alimestra for his life.
“Please! I beg you Goddess! I have been faithful to you my entire life. My Mother is on her deathbed and I must make it home from your shrine, but those Raiders have trapped me here! “ he cried, shuddering and crying out in fear as he heard a splintering crack and saw the metal edge of the axe push in through the door.
“Please Mother Alimestra! They’ll kill me, I know they will! I beg you, if not for my sake then for my mother’s and my baby sister’s. They won’t survive if I don’t make it back with your holy water!” he plead once more, hoping beyond all hope for a miracle to happen.
The door cracked once more, but this time, the blow was too much for the old wood. Splintering fully,it shattered into pieces as the goblins began to rip and tear an opening to enter through.
Crying out in terror, Aris fell on his back and began to desperately push away. Bumping into the far corner, he was only able to watch with dread as the grinning hobgoblin pushed its way through the hole cut in the door.
Steadily, it began to make its way across the cabin, allowing its axe to scrape upon the floor as it enjoyed the look of fear on his eyes. The other goblins also filed in, standing across the far wall and leering at Aris.
[window] Do you wish to accept the Level 1 Spirit Tarin (Rank Epic) into your service? [/window]
Aris stared dumbly at the message for a moment. The World hadn’t spoken to him since he gained his one and only skill, farming. Now it was offering him a spirit? Practically shrieking his agreement mentaly, as all beings, even infants, know is the only way to communicate with the world, with sheer joy.
[window] Warning! Accepting a Spirit into your service will force you to take a Contractor class. Due to the nature of your first Contract, you will receive the Binder class. Do you still wish to accept the spirit Tarin into your service as a Familiar? [/window]
A class as well? Aris was shocked at the blessings falling upon him. Ecstatic, he agreed once more.
[window] Congratulations! You have gained the Binder Class! A unique class among spirit contractors, its followers form close relationships with their spirits. The power of the spirit flows across the bond allowing binders to gain weaker versions of the traits their spirits naturally have. These close bonds come at the cost of numbers as binders can only contract a spirit for every five levels of their class. +100% Health +50% Stamina +150%mana +15% Stamina Regeneration +75% mana regeneration + 30% health regeneration +10% to each elemental affinity your familiars acquire. [/window]
The goblin halted as an aura of light flashed into existence around Aris. It stepped backward and seemed to gain courage as the light did not seem to harm it. Laughing maniacally it charge forward waving its axe above its head.
Suddenly, a whole slew of notifications appeared before Aris, vying for his attention as a surge of new knowledge burst into his mind. Ignoring the four latter notices, he focused to cast the first spell.
[window] Congratulations! You have gained the rank 1 spell Summon Familiar (1/10) [/window]
Mentally communicating with the World, he cried out, “Please! Save me!”
He felt only a sinking despair as nothing answered. The goblin kept running towards him unimpeded as his spirit ignored his summoning. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy he chastised himself for getting his hopes up.
Then just as the Hobgoblin began its downward swing and Aris resigned himself to losing his life, a vortex opened before him.
With a mighty roar, his familiar burst onto the scene. Aris watched, astonished, as it darted out of the portal and slammed a fist into the goblin’s exposed stomach. The hobgoblin crumpled like a blade of grass in a windstorm as his familiar’s blow physically launched it backward across the cabin into the other goblins along the far wall.
Instead of following up on its advantage, his familiar simply stood there seemingly taking in its accomplishment with pride.
Looking up at it from his position on the floor, Aris admired his bonded partner. Standing on two legs, its steel gray coat of scales glistened like armor. With thick visible muscles, sharp wicked claws and fangs, and even a set of wings and a tail it was truly terrifying and majestic…
Except for the fact that it was barely three feet tall.