Brendan was a mess and he knew it. He had broken so many things this evening, he just hoped his fist wasn’t one of them. It felt good, dipping his injured hand into the cool water of the lake, probably wasn’t very hygienic though. It was dark enough that he couldn’t see the blood welling up from his knuckles, but he knew it was there. Catching the current to drift down the headwaters of the St. Lawrence and then flow down into the Atlantic. Part of him wanted to drift away with them. It would be easier than dealing with the morning.
First he would have to tell his sister that he broke her mask. It was a resin thing with black fur glued overtop and in the shape of a bull’s head. At first the wide horns had been hard to navigate with, especially since they added another 20 cm to his 182 cm height. Many a doorway had felt their wrath until he had learned to duck. Now he reached up to the right side and felt the broken plastic under the fur. It clicked as he played it. If it had been knocked off during the fight, his temple would have hit the corner of the table instead and he wouldn’t have to deal with the morning.
Brendan shook his head, trying to dispel the dark thought and stood. Dwelling on such things next to the lake might not be a good idea. He started to walk back to the path through the woods, but stopped when he heard the giggle. It was probably a Queen’s student who had stayed in town over the summer.
He shook his head again and was about to walk away when he heard the beginning of her song. It was beautiful, in a language he didn’t know, but that sounded like it had been made to be sung. He wasn’t even aware he had taken a step, but slowly, silently, he followed the sound of her voice. He found himself standing in the forest line, still covered by the shadow of the trees and he stared out over the water.
The singer was a slender girl who stood waist deep in the water. Her pale green hair flowed down her back providing her her only cover. Pale shoulders and hips glowed in the moonlight as she continued her song and Brendan found himself captivated. He felt like he had stumbled upon a goddess bathing and knew no good could come from it but he couldn’t turn away. Slowly her voice softened and began to repeat the refrain again and again and then she fell silent. For a long moment, Brendan could only stare at her, before she turned back to him, one arm covering her slight chest, and dipped beneath the waves.
She surfaced closer to shore, where the forest and the field met in a round hollow. Her head and shoulders breached the water, but everything else remained hidden.
“And what manner of beast has the goddess sent me?” She asked, her voice laughing and lilting as she asked the question. Her accent was strange but captivating. “Have you come to ravish me?”
Brendan stuttered out an apology and turned his head. His hand came up to remove his mask, but then she spoke.
“No, keep it on, it looks good on you.”
Brendan’s hand froze on its journey and Brendan stalled out. His mind could not catch up to where he was and so he remained standing, looking away from her frozen.
“You can look at me, all the important bits are below the water.”
Brendan turned to face her. Her lips were as green as her hair.
“Come closer, I swear I won’t bite,” she grinned, showing off perfectly white teeth.
Again, Brendan’s body reacted without his conscious thought and soon he was kneeling next to the water.
“Who are you?” he found the strength to ask.
“What use are names when a Nymph meets a Minotaur? There is a more important question?”
“What?”
“Why are you here?”
“I…” Brendan floundered for a moment, “I fucked up.”
“What a compelling tale. Are you sure you aren’t a bard?” Her words could have been mean spirited, but she said them with an easy, teasing tone, “How did you fuck up?”
Brendan exhaled sharply.
“I won a fight that I shouldn’t have been in.”
“Pretend for me you are a bard. Describe this fight.”
“I don’t really remember how it started. I was even drunker than I am now. Gregory got a good shot in. I don’t know if it was the beer or if I was just overconfident, but I went down hard. I just didn’t see the haymaker coming. Gregory turned around to celebrate, this is the first time he has been able to knock me off my feet, I guess he figured I wouldn’t stand back up. I did.”
Brendan paused and clicked the broken resin at his temple.
“I got him on the ground and just started punching. He was wearing one of those old venetian masks, the ones with the long nose. I didn’t stop punching until I had destroyed it on his face.”
Brendan paused again and didn’t, couldn’t continue.
“There is more to the tale, dear bard.”
“Catherine was there. She had warned me before the party. One more fight. I start it. They start it. It doesn’t matter.”
“Who is this Catherine to you?”
“She is --was my girlfriend.”
“And so, Sir Minotaur, you sit on the banks of the river and weave your tale of woe. For a Lady...” She reached out to touch his mask as she spoke, but paused as he flinched away, “Such a broken creature the goddess has sent me.”
Brendan reached up to pull the mask off, all joking having evaporated from his mood, but he found that he couldn't. It was stuck.
“I told you, leave it on.” The nymph said and grinned.
“Who are you?” Brendan asked again, his voice no longer filled with wonder.
“I told you, that doesn’t matter. Are you having troubles with your ears, Sir Minotaur?” Her tone was still playful, but the words pierced his soul.
Brendan tried to get up to leave, but found he couldn’t move his legs.
“Sir Minotaur, do you tire of my company already?”
“Let me go.”
“Is that what you truly desire?” She asked and pushed a bit more forward onto the shore, her breasts rising above the softly lapping waves. Her nipples were the same green as her lips. Brendan tore his eyes away from them and looked her in the face. She smiled widely at him and he now saw the sharpened fangs.
“Where would you go, Sir Minotaur? Would you return to your broken life? Your dull nine to five existence, turning a wrench to fix cars you don’t care about? Catherine was the last good thing you had going and you fucked it up. Tell me truly, do you wish to go back to that?”
Brendan wanted to argue, tried to, but his tongue wouldn’t move. Only when he sighed and finally ordered it to say no did it move.
“Then Sir Minotaur, let me make you an offer. Brendan McAngus, would you like a chance to drift away, to leave your broken life and become something more? I can offer you that.”
“No,” he whispered, surprising even himself. His tongue loosened and he continued, “I may be broken, but I will not cause my family that pain.”
For the first time in this conversation, the nymph appeared surprised. Brendan found that whatever spell held him in place weakened and he pushed against it. Slowly he stood.
“Hold,” the nymph spat, “You are giving up the chance to be powerful. To be famous. You could have a hundred Catherines at your beck and call.” She cupped her own breast and squeezed it slightly. “You would be known as-”
“No,” Brendan said again stronger, “I have no desire for power, or fame. I do not want a hundred, or a thousand Catherines.” As he spoke the words, the spell faded further. In his own mind, his words continued. I only want the one.
The nymph opened her mouth to speak again, but a new voice spoke instead.
“Selene that is enough. You have lost him.”
The nymph spun about and hissed and Brendan turned to follow her gaze. A woman clad in starlight and thin white veils stood on the moon’s reflection in the water.
“Brendan McAngus, I would offer you what she offered you and more. I would offer you the chance to do good, and to learn to control the bloodlust that rushes through your veins. I know the pleasure you feel in the fight. I offer you the chance to be its master and not the other way around.”
“No, get out of here you hag, you poacher, he is mine.”
“I am not,” Brendan turned to the new woman, “And what is your name?”
“My name is lost to the sands of time, but you may refer to me as The Lady. What do you say?”
Brendan was silent for a long moment as Selene whipped back around to him.
“You are giving up the chance of a lifetime. I can show you the greatest pleasures. You will get nothing like that from that prudish bitch.”
“My family, they will not miss me?”
“They will, but I will not leave a Fetch to be found in this lake, with its lungs full of water. You will simply disappear, and when the time is right you might return a better man.”
Brendan was silent for a long moment as Selene hissed and spat curses and promises.
“Yes.”
The Lady tossed something to Brendan and caught it without thinking. It was a silver coin a quarter the size of his palm and it bore the likeness of The Lady. The world then faded to the sound of Selene’s howls.
----------------------------------------
Brendan woke up with a snort. He was sitting in a waiting room and someone had just touched his shoulder. He looked about wildly as the person who touched him took a sharp step back.
“I’m sorry to wake you Sir, but the Sergeant is available to see you now.”
The speaker was a young man wearing an old fashioned uniform. Red coat and black slacks, with a single white chevron, pointing up, on his right arm. He had a belt and a bandolier of white leather with hardened leather pouches placed strategically for easy access.
He held his hand out, all fingers together, and pointed it at a door to Bredan’s left. The room was wooden floored, with white plaster walls, and a vaulted ceiling. In front of the door stood a small desk, which the young man had obviously been sitting behind. Looking about, Brendan noted that the door to the left was the only door.
“Sir?” the young man gently reminded him.
“Sorry,” Brendan’s voice sounded husky and he coughed to clear it, “I don’t wake up well. Where am I?”
“Sir, you are in the recruiting office of the King’s Army. The Sergeant can answer your questions better than I can.”
Brendan nodded and placed his hands on his knees to stand, but then paused. His legs were covered in a dense mat of black fur. As were the backs of his arms. Then he remembered; the minotaur costume. He must look something silly.
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“I’m sorry, I think I was very drunk last night. How did I end up in a recruiting office out of the 1800s?” His voice still sounded husky to his ears.
“Sir, the Sergeant is better at answering those questions. Please go through the doors.”
The soldier was starting to get a touch annoyed.
Brendan continued his aborted attempt to stand and stumbled as he took a step but his head remained stationary. His horns had yet again caught on the ceiling. Brendan sighed and ducked his head, feeling around the back for the straps while he walked to the door. He could at least take the mask off before seeing the Sergeant and getting this sorted out. The only thing he could think of is that he had gotten drunk around Fort Henry and someone was playing a joke on him. The young soldier opened the Sergeant’s door for him and Brendan stepped through.
The office had the same wooden floor and white plastered walls, and there was a door in the wall opposite him. Between him and the door was an ancient and withered looking man sitting at a massive desk. His hair was bone white and his eyes were yellow with age. Despite that, he filled out his uniform well and had two rows of medals on his left breast. His left sleeve was empty below the elbow and pinned up into place. On the desk in front of him was a massive black book, opened to a list of some sort.
“May I have your name?” The Sergeant asked without looking up.
Brendan didn’t answer as he felt a wash of cold run down his back and realised he couldn’t find the strap holding his mask on. He gripped the horns and pulled, but it only pulled his head to the side.
“What are you doing, Recruit?”
The Sergeant’s voice barely registered through Brendan’s mounting panic.
“Recruit, [Word of Command] At-TEN-shun.”
Brendan’s hands snapped to his sides and his feet slammed together. The panic that had threatened to overwhelm him vanished in a heartbeat.
“Now, Recruit, let’s start over. What is your name?”
“Brendan McAngus, Sergeant,” Brendan shouted, not being able to control his voice, yet again and the Sergeant checked his book, flipping through a couple pages.
“Hmm, yes I see, Selene is your pat- Wait no, oh She did it again.”
Brendan could hear the capitalised S.
“So, your patron is The Lady. She has already spent a good deal of your allotted coin in the contract she made with you, but it looks like Selene had already started the process of giving you the Cretan Curse and The Lady couldn’t or didn’t stop it. That’s both good and bad news for you. The Cretan Curse will change your Lineage from Human, but it will give you some advantages. You can check your [Status] to figure all that out later. What I need you to understand is that you have taken the King’s Shilling and that means you are now part of the King’s Army. You have 50 Shillings to your name, after The Lady deducted the amount required for your summoning contract. You are currently signed up for four years relative time, with the option to extend. If you choose to extend now, you will be given additional Shillings with which to buy better gear and upgrades. Do you wish to?”
Brendan’s heart dropped. Four years. She had said that he could go back, but she hadn’t said he would be gone for four years. The panic pushed at the edges of whatever was holding him in place, but it couldn’t take over.
“Is there any way to get out of the contract, Sergeant?”
“Yes,” the Sergeant said with a nod, “You can purchase your own contract out, but it will be expensive. You will gain 10 Shillings a week as pay, and you will have the opportunity to earn more. Each year you buy off of your contract will cost 100 Shillings.”
“How many Shillings do I get for taking the extended contract, Sergeant?”
“You would gain 20 Shillings per additional year you sign up for.”
Brendan tried to wince at the exchange rate, but his face wouldn’t move.
“No, Sergeant.”
The Sergeant nodded again and made a note in his book.
“Next up, I would ask if you wanted to purchase a commission, but 50 Shillings isn’t enough for that. Your next step will be through the door behind me. The door to your left is optional. The one on the right is the way forward. Good luck, recruit. Dismissed.”
Brendan found his limbs able to move and he froze for a moment, unsure of what he should do. He had been shanghaied, almost literally, and the person who had done it had stolen most of his money too. He reached up and touched his horn, not the mask’s horn, His horn. Looking down at his feet he saw hooves. Fortunately, he was wearing some kind of briefs, or loincloth type thing. His costume hadn’t been. He was mostly covered in thick, black fur too, except for his chest and the palms of his hands.
“Recruit, I know this is a shock, but I do need to see your newest peer, so if you could move on.”
Brendan looked back up at the Sergeant and the look he was being given wasn’t unkind.
“Things will get easier,” the Sergeant promised, “But they will undoubtedly get harder first. Best to get moving.”
Brendan did. He clunked through the door, suddenly unsteady on his hooves, even though he could walk on them fine before, and found himself in a short hallway. To the left was a doorway covered with a dirty white cloth splashed with red that Brendan didn’t want to think about. Above it, was a sign that said Body Shop. To the right was a sturdy wooden door with the words KIT Shop carved into them.
Brendan went left first. He needed time to process what was happening to him.
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from the Body Shop, but what he found was a butcher shop. The counter in front of him held all different parts of various animals; tongues, eyes, noses. Great hefting chucks of meat. Brendan almost threw up when he saw an arm.
In front of the counter was a stone column that rose to waist height with an orb carved into the stone at the top.
Behind the counter was the biggest man Brendan had ever seen, easily 2 heads taller than Brendan, despite being crouched over a cutting board in the back, with a single eye in the middle of his forehead, and wearing a blood smeared apron.
“Welcome to the Body Shop, Recruit. What can I get for you? Oh, not much it looks like.”
“What is this place?” Brendan asked queasily.
“This is the Body Shop, where you can change your body out to something that you prefer. We can add muscle, take or redistribute fat, even change out eyes or give extras. I wouldn’t go too crazy, it can be hard to get used to some of the more extreme changes. I imagine you are figuring that out though. How many Shillings do you have left?”
“50,” Brendan said, and swallowed to try to settle his stomach.
“Hmm, not much I can do for 50, and not much you would want to give up to make up more. Cretan Curse, yeah?”
Brendan nodded and found himself staring at one of the slabs of meat.
“What do people normally ask for,” Brendan asked, trying to buy some time. Reality was slowly catching up with him and he could feel the edges of panic causing his heart to beat faster.
“Oh, it depends. More years, fewer years, bigger tits, smaller tits, no tits, bigger cock, no cock. Very few people ask for a smaller cock. More muscle mass, but I would be wary of that; you will need to eat a lot more and you might find getting enough food difficult initially. Come to think of that, you are likely to have that problem as is. I have something that might help with that.”
The giant pulled out a tray from his right filled with tongues and Brendan felt something drip onto his chest. Instinctively he brushed his mouth and found that the fur on the back of his hand came away wet. His stomach growled and with horror it dawned on Brendan, he wasn’t nauseous because what was in front of him disgusted him. He was hungry…
“This here,” the giant gestured to a purple tongue the length of a ruler, “is a Troll’s Tongue. You might find yourself in a pinch and eating something foul tasting to stay alive. This will help with the taste and aid in your regeneration. Recruit, are you listening to me?”
Brendan was lost in the horror of what he was feeling, and the panic froze in his breast. He absolutely did not want to look at
something that looked like a human tongue, even a long one, and want to eat it. The giant snapped his fingers in front of Brendan’s face, and Brendan shook himself.
“Recruit? Kid? You ok?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Brendan got out, “Yeah, uh, how do I get rid of the Cretan Curse?”
“I could do that for you, but it would be very expensive. 1000 Shillings at least. You can’t afford it now, and I wouldn’t suggest it. The Cretan Curse might be a curse, but it can keep you alive. Place your hand on the stone.” The ogre gestured to the stone column with the orb.
Brendan did and information flooded his mind.
Name
Brendan McAngus
Effective Age
22
Actual Age
22
Prowess
52
(98)
34
Grace
33
(17)
12
Endurance
41
(87)
39
Charisma
24
05
Wit
17
10
Confidence
32
30
Intelligence
33
07
Perception
32
14
Arcana
10
00
Class
Lineage
Level
0
Current
0
Next
300
Minotaur (Uncommon)
Skill:
----
0
00
Skill:
----
0
00
Ability:
Healing Feast
0
00
Test Arcana to Heal Injury whilst eating | Heal equals the Roll | Cost: 1 Arcana
Feature:
Brutal Physique
Add Half Base Prowess and Endurance to Effective Prowess and Endurance. Subtract Half Base Grace from Effective Grace.
Skill:
----
0
00
“You’ll see that you already have an Ability and a Feature. These usually only happen at Level 1, but since you have an Uncommon Lineage, you get the early. What you are feeling is Healing Feast. I had a friend a while back, when I started here, who somehow got the Cretan Curse; never told me how, but my buddy said that it was overwhelming initially. Unless you have a high Arcana it can be limiting though. Trolls also have Healing Feast, but they base their’s on Endurance. I don’t know your stats, but I imagine your Endurance is higher than your Arcana. The Troll’s Tongue will help you make better use of Healing Feast, which will allow you to take more risks, get Shillings faster, and ultimately get rid of the Curse faster. What do you say?”
Brendan blinked his eyes and the information vanished. He couldn’t fault the giant’s logic, “Sure…” Brendan began, but didn’t get a chance to finish. The giant’s left hand shot out and gripped his jaw.
“Great, hold still now. Best to do it quickly, like a bandaid”
The giant pressed on the sides of Brendan’s mouth, causing it to pop open and with his right hand grabbed Brendan’s tongue and yanked. Pain flashed in front of Brendan’s eyes and blinded him for a second while his arms came up to beat on the giant’s granite grip, but he couldn’t even cause the arm to budge. His panic swelled again, giving him additional strength and he pounded on the ogre’s elbow. He may have caused it to sway slightly. Then with a terrible wet sound, something came loose in Brendan’s mouth and his scream turned into a gurgle as blood poured down his throat, choking him. In a flash, the giant’s hand was back in his mouth.
“[Attach Limb] [Heal],” The giant said, and the pain vanished as quickly as it came. The giant released his jaw and Brendan bent forward and spat out blood and an awful brown paste.
“There you go, that will be 35 Shillings. I’ll give you a discount of 10 Shillings for the Minotaur Tongue. Never know when someone will want it, but it can’t hurt to keep on ice.”
Brendan spat again and looked up, murder in his eyes.
“The Fuck,” he snarled, although he lisped horribly on the first word.
“Now, now, you agreed, and as I don’t believe you have any further business here, I will ask you to leave if you are going to use language like that.”
Brendan took a step forward with balled fists, “You just -”
“Recruit, [Word of Command] Atten-SHUN,” the ogre barked out.
Brendan felt a familiar wave of lack of control sweep through him. His anger and panic both faded into the background, but were not completely subsumed. His arms delayed a second and then snapped to his sides as he came to attention.
“That’s better. Now if you have no further business here, and you don’t, it’s best you were leaving and heading to the KIT shop. Be careful with the Troll’s Tongue, it isn’t fully seated yet and that might take a bit. Once it has fully taken root, then you will be able to make use of its full ability. Now, March!”
Brendan found himself turning on his heel and marching out the door. He was really starting to hate that skill or ability or whatever it was as his fury burned under the surface of his apparent calm.
The moment he was outside, the skill or whatever it was snapped and Brendan spun around. His open hand collided with the sheet but it felt like slapping concrete. A rough wooden sign hung over the entrance, declaring the Body Shop to be Closed. Brendan slammed his open hand against the cloth again and again, but it wouldn’t budge. He screamed and cursed at the Ogre but it was no good. Well, it was kinda. By the time he had calmed back down, the panic that had been pressing at the edges of his mind had vanished. At some point during the tantrum he had started crying. It was good to get it all out, he just hoped that no one was watching this area with some sort of magical surveillance.
Brendan took a deep breath and tried to regain his center. Looking behind him, he didn’t see the next recruit in line waiting and watching him with horror, so at least there was that. His fist was starting to hurt, but only mildly. More disturbingly, his hunger was growing. He needed food. With only one way forward, Brendan turned to the KIT shop and hoped the door was soundproof.
The KIT shop was in a finely carved cave. Bare stone with only the faintest signs of chisel marks was carved into high arching passages. A low counter blocked the way forward and a small man stood behind it. He couldn’t have come up to Brendan’s belly button, but he had a beard that disappeared far below the counter. Behind him stood racks and racks or packs, weapons, and armour, but the more he looked the more it hurt Brendan’s eyes. Things seemed to be stacked one upon the other in a way that defied reality.
“Welcome to the KIT Shop, my name is Quartermaster Darren Stonetooth. Here we will outfit you with everything you need to succeed in the King’s Arm… Oh, you are a big one aren’t you?” The short man asked as he looked up and up until he reached Brendan’s horns and then dropped his gaze back to his face, “Well, doesn’t matter, we will find something to fit you. You’ll be needing a uniform, a pack, and a rifle at minimum.”
Brendan blinked and shook his head, feeling the odd weight of his head anew, and looked away from the racks of stuff. He looked down at the diminutive man, Brendan was trying real hard not to think of the D word but he knew that would fail, and asked, “How much is all that stuff going to cost?”
Darren was already writing things down on a list in front of him, “Oh it will likely run you close to 500 Shillings, but don’t worry, no one has enough to pay for it all up front. We’ll just dock your wages by half until you have paid it all off.”
Brendan felt his heart drop. A small sputtering anger began to fill the void where his emotions had been, but he couldn’t say he was truly surprised. These guys seemed to be the sort of massive dicks that would do this and it wasn’t exactly the Dwarf’s fault.
“So, that will be three uniforms, all XXXXL sized, that is extra,” Darren said with a grin, but then coughed when Brendan didn’t laugh at the pun, “lets see, an XXXXL pack, you’ll be able to get lots of stuff into there. Looks like you will need the extra rations, so I’ll pack it with extra for you from the start.”
Darren pulled a rifle looking weapon from the space behind him and placed it on the bench between them. The weapon was taller than he was.
“This is the Neodogi, because it has become man’s new best friend,” He popped it open to show Brendan the breech and began a practiced speech, “It is a bolt action, single shot, breech loading rifle that uses an interrupted screw. Yes, we know about magazines and semi-automatic weapons, but we don’t have the factories to make them. Each Neodogi is hand made by a master artisan. This means they don’t use interchangeable parts either, so don’t break it.”
Brendan could have stuck his thumb down the barrel, a normal person likely could have fit a couple fingers in it. Darren snapped it shut again and placed it down in front of him again.
“There is some debate on whether the numbers on your [Status] is a reflection of reality, or if it goes the other way around. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Your head leaves your shoulders, or your heart stops, you are still dead. Same thing happens if all your Effective Physical stats all hit 0. You will find that you will take damage to your Prowess or Grace first, and then your Endurance. Your Effective Endurance also drops as you use your abilities, depending on what they are, so be careful. Now the thing to remember:'' Darren slapped the rifle for emphasis, “ The Neodogi does a minimum of 12, a max of 120, and an average of 66 damage in the hands of an amatuer. Most things you will run into in the valley will have an average of around 75 Effective Physical stats, so a good shot will take one out, two shots almost definitely will. Most recruits have around 105 Effective Physical Stats, so a really good shot could take one of them out as well, so be careful what you are aiming at.”
Darren pointed to the trigger, “Finger out of the trigger guard until you are ready to shoot, and only point it at something you want dead, whether it is loaded or not.”
A case of bullets then joined the rifle on the desk.
“There are 30 rounds in this case. Once you are in the valley, I would suggest putting some of them into your bandolier. You shouldn’t run into any trouble before you reach the base, but you never know.”
With all that said, he made some final notes on the form in front of him, “grand total will be 850 Shillings, trust me, you will need the extra. Just sign here,” Darren flipped the paper around.
Brendan sighed and bent down to take the quill and moved to sign his name. Between his additional strength and the awkwardness of the quill's size he squished it. Three quills later and a block of charcoal, Brendan’s cheeks were burning red under his fur. He had had to settle on making an X next to his neatly printed name, which Darren had done for him.
With that done, and a quickly and neatly packed pack later, with Darren’s expert assistance, Brendan was ready to go, already 825 Shillings in debt. He had kept one ration out and was already munching on it as he walked through the final door.