It feels like I was shot out of a cannon.
“FROST ARMO—”
I smacked into the guard the closest to the widest entrance available.
You’ve taken 57 damage.
I fall in a heap of my own limbs. The bare-chested, heavily tatted, mountain of muscle doesn’t move. He merely looks down and begins to smile.
I don’t have the dexterity to do a flippity flip to my feet or the strength to stub his toe. What I do have is a survival instinct that is screaming at me to run in the most undignified way possible. Which I do—
Scratch that, I try to. One moment I’m trying to roll away; the next, I’m kissing the ceiling after the imprint of a bare foot breaks my ribs.
SMACK.
You’ve taken 126 damage.
You’ve taken 40 damage.
You have Moderate Blunt Force Trauma.
You have Mild Concussion.
You have Internal Bleeding.
When I fall, I hit the side of the cage first and, in desperation, remember to grab it despite my broken ribs, cracked hip, and losing consciousness briefly. I cough blood as the effort strains the limits of my meager Strength Stat; my Frost Born health regeneration slowly restores my rapidly depleting health bar. Fuck.
Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. I can’t breathe, but I try to grab the edge of the cage with my other hand and pull myself up. The effort feels herculean, as if the entire world is depending on me to do a single pull-up. I nearly pee blood trying to haul myself over the edge, and when I finally do, I think I may have actually did. And then the cage shakes violently as something large and incredibly strong lands on top of it. In my haze, I see the figure of a man who should look familiar, but my thoughts are gradually getting slower by the minute. Oh, this hurts.
I cough more violently, and more blood follows, cough, blood, breath, blood. Oh, I’ve never been hit this hard in my entire life, and oh god, I can’t breathe. I try to crawl away, but there is only open air and more smooth metal surface. I can cast Cold Extremities? No. That’ll tickle him as he bashes my brains in, something I have odd experience with...
Fuck don’t lose consciousness! Think!
He seems to be taking his time; his face is a mess of scars, the worst of which is his eyes, which appear to have been removed with a child’s idea of a sharp object, and the scarring around the empty eye sockets proves a simple rudimentary tool was used. This could have been me or worse... no, I shake my head of that thought and try to get up despite a body that is partially numb to my instructions. I get up and try to imagine a fighting stance, something to conjure some idea that I won’t be taken down easily even though the effort will be pointless considering A, the guy’s blind, and B, I’m barely holding it together to look threatening as it is.
But then I notice that he has stopped grinning and has started to turn his head to the right and look up. That scar-ridden face searches for something in the distance before finally settling on the spot where I came from. The place where the two elves who came to rescue their people used me as a decoy. Well, I could say fuck them or—
“CAUSE FEAR!” Multicast and, yes, even Extended Range echo with the spell, and the effect is more felt than observed.
You see, normally, I would be made aware of when it worked on something like the Archfiends. But this is different. A chill runs down my spine as even the System is quiet. No one is afraid of me, but now they are aware of me, in a very specific, very keen way. Like when someone throws a snowball, and everyone just stops and instinctively knows who did it. And everyone is just filled with the burning, almost automatic desire to respond.
The man in front of me snaps his undivided attention my way and is joined by the rest of the guards, who all crash on top of the cage, their bodies almost steaming with pent-up aggression. This is no longer a playoff exercise of a dwarf being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They are going to tear me apart. Their facial expressions are twisted in masks of rage and the unmistakable undiluted desire for retribution. I have seen them remain calm, taking a blast of cold death in the face. Did I just pull aggro!?
“Why is THAT a FUCKING THING!”
And then, like sweet elven Jesus, a flash of silver light blurs into existence. I nearly sob in terror and relief. Andreen has come, but what can you do outnumbered seven to one? Then, I swear to baby Gandhi, this man whips out his dual scimitars in near-slow-motion as light and shadow seem to reflect off his very being, and everything seems to come into hyper-focus. From the glistening sweat of the naked men-turned-slaves to the rapidly chilling breath of the eleven battle ranger (I’m making up a class here), and without a single discernable pause, I see what real violence is.
Pure hurricane. Five-foot, eleven inches of curved steel flash as each of the twin blades moves as a single unit. There are six men spaced haphazardly around the steel cage, and each man turns to face the threat in slow motion. Exuberantly slow because Andreen is terribly fast. He removes two heads in a single crouching draw, then whips into high gear, dancing between the grasping hands of two other men-turned-slaves as their rage toward me, wasting what little time they have before the elf slides between their bodies and splatters blood in two strokes.
I only know time has passed because my own sweat has rolled from the tip of my head to my cheek, and then instinctively, I turn my head to the remaining three humans who broke their rage boner for me to take defensive stances against the new threat. And then something really odd happens. There is a crackle of ozone. A putrid smell breaks through the staleness of the cave surroundings, and then—
Screams. Muffled yet terrible screams that can’t escape the wall of rolling pink liquid that spills from each man’s throats as something pink and gray bubbles out of their eyes and ears. Did she melt their brains? Then I feel hands, hard and rough, grab me and pull me away as one of the guards flails and stumbles toward me, almost as if he is pleading for help before he collapses in a heap of sweat and pink slime.
“Don’t touch that,” Andreen warns. Watching it roll slowly over the edge, I see a faint sizzle as it meets the open air. What the actual fuck?
Then I see a girl make an impossible leap and land softly on the metal cage. She seems to radiate with a smokey gray-hued power that reminds me of tombstones and the graveyards they often called them home. She walks past the corpses as if she owns them and gives me a health potion.
“Thank you.”
I’m not sure whether to be livid or scared out of my mind. “W-w-why?” I stammer before drinking the weird red liquid.
She looks at Andreen, who shrugs and looks back at me, then nods her head as if agreeing to something. “I’m sorry for using you as bait, but... things would have gone badly if one of them sounded the alarm or ran for help. I know this is all...” Like before, she tries to find the right word over blurting out the first thing she has in mind. “Not fair. But I thank you for your sacrifice.”
She then taps me softly on the forehead, and for a second, no, for a long second, I think she and I share a ‘moment.’ And then I collapse.
...
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
....
…..
“Success probability increased by 25%.”
“That’s it?”
“My divination only goes so far.”
“... I need better results. Why put him to sleep then?”
“Probability of success drops drastically after this moment... as if he is the opposite of good luck.”
“Or you waste more time trying to save him.”
...
....
.....
“Just because I’m not a—”
“You not being a ranger has nothing to do with this! Time is essential if we don’t make it back—”
“Yes, I know! But if I had acted like you, we wouldn’t have rescued this many this easily.”
“Hmph, save that thought.”
...
....
.....
You resisted me for so long, fellow traveler.
Resist no longer! Join me, help me secure a way home.
I can take you back.
“Wait...” The voice in my head is strong yet warm, as if every word embraces me. “You can’t be serious. Can you take me home?”
Oh, I can take all my children home. Every last one of you can return to your plane of origin. Your Earth. Join me. Join me and be bountiful and partake in these lesser creatures.
And then my mind opens up, and I see the “bounty” that this creature has to offer, my mind being stretched and warped until it leaves my body entirely and evaporates into nothing. I am nothing, and the sweat release from pain and fear almost makes me weep for joy before my mind is flooded with visions. Through the second sight, I can feel the sensations of carnal desires building inside of me. My body, no this other body, feels muted to all other emotions like fear and pain. Only lust remains, desire, undiluted, unrestrained save for one other purpose, which is to serve unquestioning to the Exalted One.
I feel it like a hunger, more important than food or wine, inside this dark cave where only the anointed ones can see, I indulge in unrelenting gusto, the elf with her ample body, not made hard by a warrior lifestyle is my reward for service, and I indulge despite her protest, her scratching and clawing, her screams and biting. It doesn’t matter. Because her skin is soft and lined with a thin layer of flesh tone feathers that bristle and stand on end like tiny little hairs, and she is otherworldly warm, and her fighting becomes intoxicating as I go deeper and harder. There is a part of me that remembers this is wrong, beyond wrong, beyond the simple brutality of this world. But in this moment, under the safety of the Exalted One who laughs softly beneath the underground lake, his large serpentine body seeming to wrap around the world and my mind, and his mind and all minds, no one resists. For in his world, his people were kings.
And then the feeling transitions to another world, similar to the one I know but to every extent different. Hot, humid lush greens of bright oranges and deep indigoes. Red streaked animals dart in and out of the canopy as trees the size of buildings try their best to blot out the sun. And in the dark dungeon some would call jungle, lays a riverbed that nourishes this world, blessed by the heat of the sun. And inside this world, I run, playfully at first but with purpose toward this river, toward this party with a body that seems human except covered in so much hair it is practically fur. No, it is fur, and my hands are too big, not round and stubby but long and unusually thick. I am small yet long but naked and free as I glide across the forest floor. And cursed.
My mind is ensnared so deeply that even I forget what was it like to be free, for I was born a slave. Everything in me is owned by the Exalted Ones, and they keep us safe and taken care of. And we don’t need our eyes. I think I was born blind. But in this second sight, I se everything, want for nothing, and enjoy the bounty. For my people were of tribes divided by distance, we waged war against other worshippers of different Gods, pantheonic entities derived from far waters who were jealous of our Gods. So we collected bounty from their followers, some for sacrifice and some for play. And, oh, how we enjoyed the play, how we enjoyed the screams and lamentations as we feasted on our desires! My member is hard just remembering, just—
“NO, THAT’S NOT ME!” I scream into nothingness, but it only laughs, a deep hideous laugh that squeezes my mind even tighter.
Enjoy, partake, feed your desire’s mammal. Feed your wants. I can gift this to you. And when I’m home, and I’ve brought these new faithful servants with me, I will bring peace to your homeland. Your Earth, dear human, turned dwarf by these cruel gods. We can cure loneliness, fear, and lack of purpose. And with the billions of souls I can ward against further intrusion, secure your people for generations! Our species can help each other! Come, resist no longer!
My mind is about to break, every doubt and insecurity bubbling to the surface and making me feel...like maybe I should give in. Is there a reason I’m holding back? Is being a slave to this thing’s whims that bad? The image of the humanlike creature crosses my mind, how happy it was, how content. Oh, its life was short and violent and probably in the service of giant snakes... but he was happy. Yes, no fear, no worries, just do what you’re told and maybe get rewarded. I can live like that. I can escape this place and maybe go home. Yes, go home. That would feel good.
“Probability of success drops drastically after this moment... as if he is the opposite of good luck.”... That was Mixie’s voice. The girl, the elf who saved me, twice. No saved you because you were useful. Because she needed you to almost die for her cause. She doesn’t give a fuck about you. No one does. But, she said probable success? Can she see the future? Or is it more like a matrix of possible outcomes? In that imagined future, I survive being treated like a beachball, I go with them to help rescue their people, and then—
“I betrayed her. I give in, and the Basilisk’s curse takes me...”
And then I live happily ever after with no more worries, no more anxiety, no more failure... Just give up one more time.
Somewhere in the dark, the Void chuckles. No, it is laughing loudly in the darkness at me, my wasted life, and all the lives it has stolen for this god-forsaken world. And when given a choice, I choose to waste my own life...again...
The Basilisk squeezes my mind some more, and I feel myself sinking further into madness and despair. Give up and go home or stay and suffer? Stay and be discarded, beaten, and left for dead? Waste the effort Mixie put into saving you. Waste her choosing kindness over her own people? No. Can I really waste that? The Void is laughing, it’s a sound I imagine in my head, but where I normally feel despair, now I feel rage. I feel it, and I grab on to it! I won’t be eaten! I won’t be made some slave for an overgrown pet snake’s amusement.
And I won’t let him go to Earth.
Because that fucker dies.
***********
Character Sheet
Name: Mike Sammons
Race: Dwarf
Origin : Hills
Stats : Level 8
Strength : 11
Dexterity : 7
Intelligence : 14
Wisdom : 12
Constitution : 12
Charisma: 1
Bonus Stat Luck: 19
Bonus Stat Perception: 1
UnAllocated Points : 5
UnAllocated Class Points : 1
Character Status
Character Status
Health : 104/104
Stamina : 56/56
Mana : 130/130
Conditions : Curse of Grave Water - Greater Resistance (Your mind has proved harder to break than most, which has drawn the ire of the Basilisk! Kill it before he makes you submit), Rested
Class Sheet
Class : Necromancer (Wizard Lv_5) (Cleric Lv_2)
Spells Book : Tome of Mike
Cold Extremities_Lv 3:: Active Spell_Cost 14 Mana_ 1 Second Cooldown_You remove the warmth from things you touch. Deal 26 Cold Damage per second with a 25% chance of causing Chill and Frostbite. Lose 3 health per second the longer this ability is active. You can activate this ability on each extremity. Scales with Intelligence and Constitution.
Frost Armor. _Lv 3:: Active Spell_Cost 25 Mana_ 5 Second Cooldown_ Give a protective layer of Ice on a target object or creature you touch. Target gains 117 points of Elemental Armor however they lose 3 Stamina per second. Has a 50% chance of applying Chill and a 15% chance of applying Frostbite to Melee attackers. Scales with Intelligence and Wisdom.
Cause Fear. _Lv 1:: Active Spell _ Cost 10 Mana_ 3 second Cooldown_ Your perceived combat prowess has allowed you to manipulate the hidden Stat Will. Enemies you target within a short cone are forced to reconsider attacking you and have a 20% chance of being effected by Terror. Scales with Wisdom and Charisma.
Passive Skills
Identify Lv 2 :: Allows you to see the first page of a Character Stat sheet. At second level you can perceive details of monsters by knowing their name. Glossary is unlocked.
Reduced Spell Cost Lv 1 :: Spells you cast cost 5 Mana less.
FrostBorn :: You have an increased chance of applying FrostBite and Chill. Also anytime you apply FrostBite or Chill to a target above 3x stacks gain 1 Health, 1 Stamina, and 3 Mana.
Extended Touch Range :: Spells in touch range can either remain touch spells or shoot out in a straight line for 1 meter (about the size of a baseball bat).
Multicast :: Reduce the effectiveness of a spell by 40% to increase the number of times that spell is cast by 2 at no additional cost.
Resist Disease :: You have achieved a greater than normal resistance to biological agents like diseases and toxins. You gain XP once foreign ailments have been overcome.
Resist Curse :: You possess a supernatural resistance to the effect of Curses. You gain XP from breaking curses.