They rode long into the night before breaking camp in an alcove overlooking a pond where glowbugs flew in swarms and the growl of predators grew impatient for mischief.
XP earned from the ride buzzed along sore muscles as he dismounted and helped Ky with their setup inside a semicircle of trees. Tim checked his HUD to see the skills XP stored into: Riding, Party Oversight and Protection for casting Battleground on their horses. With that cast, Gregor had an ability to allow his party to absorb Tim’s abilities. Not in full, but enough to help. Tim didn’t mind, of course, and when they shared spells, he gained cultivation mana without losing the XP. Add to that, his Party Oversight had doubled the growth with Gregor using it for his troops. Tim’s Danger Sense and Flee abilities received a trickle of XP throughout their ride, too. He asked Dryfu about the steady trickle of excess cultivation mana, which did not steal from his XP. Normally he had to funnel XP into his Cultivation veins, but this grew by itself. His guide quietly explained, because of the “continual interaction between your souls and inflow of experience, but also because they, too, are cultivators.”
Salyards, their negotiator with a pair of sai and a cultivation spell that made his victim lose the ability to blood clot, pointed to a ridge along the mountain. Tim scanned the dark on dark shapes of the trees—“holsam terras,” Tim identified, which were good for aura absorption. In their midst, a flicker of familiar magic sparked. Tim tensed. “Guys,” he whispered. “Artisan. It’s about to unleash a nixstone skull. Can we go? Is there time?”
“You tell me, Ranger,” Salyards said. “Hunt deep into the power source, enough to read its will and react before it does.”
“Its…?” Tim asked, then sighed and just went with it. He charged Magic Hunt inside Danger Sense and clapped the two outward in Thunda power. It broke through a shielding fifty yards from the target, losing most of its strength. Tim collected the strays using Draw and cast them back out in a lance of energy at the source. The artisan flashed a spark of light enveloping Tim’s spell down its throat and into nothing.
XP trickled into his skills despite the apparent failure. The distance met the extent of his range, but he’d still forced his target to release a defensive response. He cast Forage for some regenerative plants and let his regen trickle his MP back up.
Gregor and his team descended into the woods with blades on the ready.
Tim gathered enough MP to charge another ping and focused on prying the power’s will. Because why not. He saw a few responses. Taking the next step sounded easy, in fact.
Except it wasn’t, even as they crossed a log spanning down to the same level as his target, forty yards and closing. Each cast drained his mental clarity. The interaction with his rider and horse butted head-to-head with the adrenaline. His target knew they were coming but resisted leaving. He was hiding something, and Tim had surprised him. He couldn’t leave. Dare not. His spell fluctuated with every ping Tim sent, but the artisan was wasting energy hiding his secret. The artisan’s rush made him sloppy around the edges of his defenses. His spells sent hunter spirits into the woods after Gregor and team while Tim’s pings gained traction on the smaller fluctuations. Quick bursts tried to knock him out, but Tim had a hook in its mouth. The longer he stayed there, the weaker its resistance.
A pouch. That was his secret. The pouch he carried the nixstone skulls held a clue to his home.
An arrow struck his horse. Tim held on tighter to his rider and lost his Magic Hunt’s contact.
Tim fought to get it back while Ky healed his horse. His target gained distance. His skull’s power source vibrated with increasing intensity. This was Tim’s shot.
He poured Magic Hunt XP into his Cultivation mana and launched a prayer after the retreating target. A miasma of spells swirling around the forest slowed Tim’s tracking like defensive flares meant to disorient Tim from the true target. He sent Analyze and Danger Sense into their essence and the origin trails to their casters.
One stood out in its anger. Not so fast. Tim fit into the aura powering the nixstone a hundred feet below them. He pictured a shoebox and putting the target and his nixstone skull inside. The target—”Lias”— tried spearing his way out. Tim’s Draw drained his fight. He almost twisted a hand around the artisan’s throat to force him back. Lias severed his connection to the nixstone. Then was gone. Black within the pitch, too far lost for Tim to reconnect. His Magic Hunt level XP was exhausted, the vial empty in his lower vision, so he couldn’t channel Cultivation mana into another cast.
He’d have to settle for halting the nixstone explosion. And whatever clues they could get in the pouch to track Lias down. Still, Tim hated to lose. He almost had both the skull and the caster. Even if they found his home, they didn’t know what Lias was up to next. Finding his point of origin could help unravel the artisan’s plan long term, but none of that compared to catching him tonight.
Ky’s horse carried them into the narrow inlet between hills, Tim had the power source at bay. Its wielder had abandoned the spell and run.
Danger Sense flared from nearly twenty sources. Each one rose up from its position behind trees and between bushes. Tim was really starting to hate the toiga. And that was before one treated his face like fresh meat.
He earned his revenge on the other end of his axe.
Fighting with Farars, let alone a chief, put Tim in a unique role. He was marginally the weakest physically, with nowhere close to the military training everyone else had, so his slot in their formation fit as a ranged… ranger.
It’s a good thing no one’s paying to hear you think.
Tim searched the aura of the players in the field, tracking Dryfu to a toiga circling its tail. Aren't you busy?
As your guide, I’m never free to ignore your thoughts. What if there was a question in there. A plea for help? Anything. I’ve gotta be there.
A toiga bounded off a trunk. Before it took Ky in the back, Tim cast Brother’s Keeper. Blue with hints of yellow-green aura coursed over Ky’s armor. Bites and claws sparked the light as the beast’s power muted inside the spell’s aura. Mere flesh wounds. Invigorated by the lack of punch to the toiga’s attacks, Ky deflected and thrust. His sword ran through the beast’s belly. Blood painted trunks black. The toiga snapped its teeth weekly. Wide of Ky’s ear. Its snout rested into Ky’s shoulder. He yelled and heaved the toiga off his blade in a second burst of war strength.
Do you even lift, bruh?
A toiga leapt over a rock beside Tim. Big enough to crush Tim in its legs. He swung his dagger upward. The beast clawed into his forearm. Tim lost his grip and stretched back. The toiga opened its wide set of fangs. Its claws dug deeply into Tim’s forearm. Tim shielded his neck with his shoulder and slammed his axe into the beast’s back. Bone chipped and broke as his blade cut flesh. The toiga howled and halted its bite. Momentum, weight, and weakness in his legs pushed Tim down. His back struck a stone, followed up with the side of his head. The toiga kept fighting with its top half, clawing a gash across Tim’s face for -25 HP.
He shoved the creature over his axe, dodged another claw and stomped into its chest. The axe blade underneath punctured its heart through its back. It took Gregor to rip the axe out once they’d finished off the rest of them. The blade glowed with purple energy interacting with the blade to send steam into the night air.
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Critical hit scored on the Alpha.
Your axe has been forged with cultivation mana to gain the enchantment: Secret Kill
Your axe has gained +5 accuracy in strikes delivered into your opponent’s blind side. The knowledge of critical hits will be stored into your muscle memory to gain +20% chance of critical hit. That doubles on the same target with each successive successful attack.
Tim read the notification since Dryfu was nowhere to be seen. He tracked his guide through the message and found Dryfu twitching on a tree branch.
“What happened to your face?” Dryfu asked. “Ugh, I thought you were ugly before.”
Tim scrutinized the off shaped collection of the stykiller’s remaining limbs. “Are you missing… two legs?”
“I can still whup you, ranger. Go get Ky.”
Boy did he. And the medic’s drugs. Which were rrrrreally good. Take Oke to town and spank his bare ass good”
“Can we have less weird fantasies floating around here?” Dryfu wagged his sling white limb almost to his face.
“I don’t actually want to, dude. It’s just a phrase that came to mind.” Tim wasn’t upset. How could he be? This medicine was like a cool peppermint rug rolling out the pain as he rested into its furry cushion.
“You’re cut off,” Dryfu said with a bit of a hanging syllable.
Two days later, he woke with more alertness than the last two cut scenes of delirium he remembered, sweating and puking into the bushes of the Farar camp. A notification read:
Nixstone extinguished.
You have earned Poison Resistance Lv 3 and Torture Endurance Lv 2 within your Self Defense abilities.
Surviving and building alliances as well as the right enemies has earned you class XP and XP into Politician, now Lv 3?
Tim pulled up his player card to see all the new skill levels. Nearly everything gained at least one level, but his class gained two, and so did Self Defense.
Level 9 Ranger
Forestry Lv 4
Foraging Lv 4
Self Defense Lv 7
Parrying Lv 5
Fleeing Lv 4
Danger Sense Lv 4
Protection Lv 5
Party Oversight Lv 5
Brother’s Keeper Lv 5
Analyze Lv 5
Healing Lv 4
Recovery Lv 4
Ally Maker Lv 2
Politician Lv 2
Interrogation Lv 3
Small Blades Lv 7 (40% in)
Riding Lv 1
Tracking Lv 4
Hunting Lv 6
Skinning Lv 3
Magic Hunting Lv 5
Trapping Lv 4
Evolutions:
Cultivator
A note appeared next to his Magic Hunt reaching Lv 5:
You are now in the top twenty percent of users with this skill. As a reward, you are granted a new Cultivation bloodline to channel Magic Hunt with less resistance and Draw MP from your targets.
Dryfu? Where are you?
He rolled his new health, three 5s and a one to reach:
New MAX HP: 91
New MAX MP: 56
For his 8 AP, he pulled up his card:
Str 6, Dex 14, Con 5(-1 racial), Wis 15 (+1 sec. to c-mana), Int 5 (+2 racial bonus), Char 3
His bottom stats needed a bump, especially intelligence and strength. He put 4 in Intelligence (9 +2 racial), 2 in Strength (8) and the last 2 in Constitution (7 -1 racial).
Dryfu swung in his grasshopper hammock, staring death over his mini canteen. How many times is that gonna be funny?
“Sorry bud, I just keep thinking back to when you threatened to kick my butt with two missing legs. I thought maybe you’d gone for a walk with that abundance of superability.”
Gregor and Salyards appeared through the trees on the ridge, full trot. A thick girl in a red feather cloak hung an arm around Salyards’ waist. Two days ago, Salyards said he knew of a sorceress who could disarm the trap Lias left underground and maybe stick around for some a fight after if needed. Now that he was healthy enough to walk, maybe ride, he itched to get the skull and get out of there before Lias brought reinforcements to protect his treasure. Tim hadn’t put up an argument when Gregor and Jil decided their plan. He was barely cognizant as the pain meds worked their magic on his face and forearm. Speaking of, he needed to get some more. His scabs felt like fire ants burrowing a deep network of tunnels into his muscle and under flesh.
I’m not gonna touch that one anymore than to say, dumb.
What?
Underflesh?
Oh. Whatever. I’m not a doctor.
Right. Oh, to the very narrow distance between you and that.
Salyards’ rider dismounted and straightened her frock. Magic flashed like static discharge at her touch, forcing out the wrinkles and even the dirt more noticeable in the yellow underdress.
You want to fight?
Dryfu stopped his hammock and had another stare leveled at Tim.
What? I was just admiring that section of her dress, underneath the cloak. So, the underdress. Don’t blame me if it’s a perfect descriptor.
“Jil not back yet?” Gregor asked.
Tim shook his head. The weight of her absence hung heavily. Gregor studied his reaction to it. Tim couldn’t help imagining her being ambushed by an artisan camp. He kicked himself for being too injured to join her on her ride back to get Chris. If she, or either of them got hurt because they didn’t have his danger sense, or whatever, he wouldn’t forgive himself.
“Alright. Let’s start in on the components then,” Gregor told the sorceress.
She smiled at Tim with the loveliness of a dandelion rinsed by rain. She reminded him of his massage therapist from back home, interested in spiritual things and strong enough to hunt out an adventure along the way. “Coming?” she asked.
“Sure,” Tim said with a smile back.
Gregor’s urgency felt its way through the line as they all followed him to the hole. Tim remembered more the sounds of dirt and rock being scooped out than the process, but the remaining Farars had dug a twenty foot by five foot well in the ground beside a gnarly black tree that was protecting Lias’s skull. The treasure was another twenty feet below that, but they’d stopped when Tim’s Danger Sense recognized a whisp of energy with Lias’ signature waves.
The sorceress turned and said, “Hi, I’m Melody. I recognize your brother from a vision in the planetary crystal. He’s in deep with the worst kind.”
Melody took his hand and dipped her legs over the side, then dropped into the hole without an ounce of fear.
“I definitely want to hear more about that. Chris is hopefully on his way.”
“Dealers are a tricky bunch,” Melody called up and static cleansed her dress. “We’ll sort it.”
After Tim ungraciously slid down the side and jumped halfway to land in their tight space, he set about to help Melody.
She drew a charged, pink painted fingernail down her frock, opening a secret pocket with a seemingly endless storage depth. A roasted bean, and somewhat pleasant aroma emanated from the use of her aura. Her execution added a flare of the dramatic for his benefit, though not hokey. He was new here and likely hadn’t seen a sorceress of her level and didn’t appear bothered with a little presentation.
It was so long; it took all four of them to pull the leather ribbon from inside and circle the well floor. She unfolded it to reveal a ten-foot sleeve of dried autumn-colored leaves. “We didn’t take time to do this before we left,” she said, “so first we need to strip the stems. I’ll handle their embering.”
See, I’m not the only one making up words. “I like that. Embering. I can imagine just what you mean,” he said as Dryfu flapped down to eye level.
“It’s a special type of heat conduction that maintains the embers through the life of the spell,” Dryfu said. “Embering is a term made up by someone who knew there was no better word. You make up words because you don’t know the best one available. There’s a difference.”
Melody giggled like a grown woman entertained by the world and all its creatures. “You too are cute together.”
“And you’re too cheery,” Salyards said and sliced leaves to clear his path.
“Are you volunteering to do that for the rest of it?” Melody asked with a mother’s tone.
Salyards rolled his eyes. “When you don’t ask you treat me like a servant.”
“And you’re well past me feeling sorry for your time with the pirates. Pay more attention to not acting like them than if I ask you for help.” She kept a grin cocked the whole time and wagged a finger at the sleeve. “Now hop to. Don’t got all day.”
Tim liked her.