Putting aside how much time I spent not in my element of choice, being totally airborne while an Earth Attuned took that experience to the next level. One clear benefit of the disorientating mess that was the feedback provided by vibrosense? I was able to keep a clear head even as I tumbled through the air. Every few spins I caught a glimpse of the Nash tower before a new current threw me in a different direction.

I screamed at Sharon for help, but it seemed futile. The woman had turned her efforts onto the other funnel, but it proved much more flexible than the frosty one. I need to get myself out of this one! The thought surfaced and a clawed hand grasped hold of it, centering in the maelstrom of panic I was staving off. Thanks Fievil. It had only been a few seconds since I'd been launched but I could feel my vertical momentum dying out. Some obscure part of my brain tried to calculate how many seconds I had before falling, but the rest of it screamed magic loudly and I was able to focus on solutions for the probably 5 seconds I had left.

No mana. Sturdy Traits. Fievil. That's what it boiled down to. When my stomach flopped and I started to fall, now outside of the Air elemental's sway and even higher than the weather tower, I could feel my Slurry Ichor start to speed up as if it wanted to move like it had done back when it was blood. I can survive 30 feet easy, so let's bring that up to 70 severely injured. Shit, that tower was almost three hundred feet up! I need to cushion my fall!

"Fievil! I need some juice man," I yelled, my desperation rising along with breakfast as I broke out of the bottom of the cloud cover. Noting the thought that followed for 'strangest thing I never thought I would think', I was supremely disappointed that there wasn't a building close enough for me to crash land through. That thought was immediately followed by a roiling, deep frustration within me; I was going to die to a fall. Not in an attempt to upset the screwed power balance of the surface, or while experimenting with an ill-advised bit of crafting, but splat on the ground! My damn magical element!

Arcane Sink expanded out from my axe hammer once again with the pittance of mana I had recovered, slowing my descent noticeably but not enough. I yelled incomprehensibly as the ground rushed closer and closer. All my attempts to concentrate enough to pull mana from without failed miserably and the spell chain for fizzled on the spot I predicted I would land. Hoping against hope, I maneuvered my body in the air so I would land feet first, if that barely made a difference when human terminal velocity was over 100 miles per hour.

Somewhere in the twenty-feet-to-death mark, my nonstop attempts to cast suffered a peculiar change. The Arcane Sink was in range. With a combination of desperation for his soulbound companion and anger at how useless he felt, Fievil opened the floodgates on his reserves to power the Shard's special Trait. Much like how Fievil's Totem had manifested out of my spell chains, the Totem burned up some of its inner juice to do the opposite.

lit the ground up a huge amber-caramel bullseye. Ring after ring of the spell chains expanded out from my predicted landing point. The next second felt like it lasted an eternity. At the very center of the magical bullseye, the ground heaved as if hoping to grab me from the air. As soon as my toes touched the earth, I felt them fracture from the force. The experience of bones breaking was one I hadn't had in many years, especially not after they'd been reinforced by Quake Osseum and then again my Tremor Frame.

Despite the fact that I knew my feet were paste, I also felt my body kick into twenty different gears.

The earth I'd made contact with started to give way, clinging to the rest of my legs as if modulating for the impact. Quake Osseum held the rest of my shins and femurs from crumbling, even as Slurry Ichor pushed back against the sudden whiplash my circulatory system and joints experienced. Even with my eyes shut and a silent scream escaping my throat, Harmonic Sinews lit the world for me. The ring of Skills sent out cushioning ripples like a rock skipping on a lake, except I was the rock in question. When the earth reached my waist, my body vibrated with the energy quickly accumulating in my Tremor Frame.

It was at some point after the ground covered my abdomen that Limestone Skin rebelled against the abuse I'd put it under. I was vaguely aware of a notification flashing through my eyes, but my focus was on the sensation of my skin flexing as if it were any other muscle. The moment that happened, Tremor Frame had had enough and part of the force of my fall got returned to the earth with no remorse. My impersonation of a grenade blew at least a five cubic yards of softened soil into a fine mist. The rain quickly dissipated the dust cloud, which also brought gravity along as the soil that had been holding me disappeared with the discharge of force.

A puppet with its strings cut, I flopped onto the crater I'd formed for myself. It didn't help that Tremor Frame had actually managed to raise me a solid foot into the air as if I was nothing more than a spiked volleyball.

It took several seconds for what I'd experienced to catch up, my level of cognitive ability heavily impaired by the unnatural twist that my feet and ankles had decided was acceptable. Somewhat a side effect of my Trait turning me into a human suspension spring, my other limbs were barely mobile. Those two things were a concern as the magic of faded and the hole I was in quickly started to fill with water. The ironic thought about my ultimate demise continued to chain together as I finally internalized that I had survived a fifteen story plus fall only to drown in the impact crater.

Thankfully, my spectacle drew attention and I wasn't forced to scrabble in the mud for long just to keep my head above water. A trio of satyr rushed to my crater, their cloven steps unmistakable in my vibrosense. One seemed to gag at the sight of something on my person before the three leveraged all of their Strength to tow my sorry self out of my crater.

"Why is he still holding a hammer?" one of them asked.

"He falls from the tower like a fleshy meteor and that is what you focus on!?" the one who'd gagged shouted, a tremor evident in his hands. "I've seen giant blood before, but I can't tell what's him and what's the mud right now!"

That sounds like a problem, I thought, using the argument as an anchor against the pain. With a monumental effort of will, I thought Status as clearly as I could. It hadn't ever been a hard thing to summon the Implant information, but I supposed it made sense it would take a little more elbow grease when your entire sense of self had suffered a concussion.

Subject: Ronan Terrigan

Health: 46% (, , , )

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Mana: 1%

Metier Quotient: 6 (59.75%)

Dreg Accumulation: 0%

LPS: Wildwood Bunker, FL

Communications

Party

Skills - (1) Selections Available

Traits - (4.3% Banked)

Attributes - Growth Quantified

Skills:

Offensive

- / /

-

Defensive

- / /

-

Misc

-

-

-

-

-

Traits:

Limestone Skin (87 [13]%) > (Striated Dermis)

Quake Osseum (Tremor Frame)

Slurry Ichor (8%)

Harmonic Sinew (31%)

Attributes:

Strength: 2.28 > 2.43

Mobility: 1.70 > 1.68

Perception: 2.40 > 2.41

Refinement: 1.70 > 1.75

Containment: 2.53 > 2.65

There is a lot to unpack there... Who needs Mobility anyway! My thoughts swam as the satyr tried to heal me only for me to grit my teeth in agony. I wasn't sure if I should be thankful it wasn't entirely my fault, because the one that seemed to be the least experienced, puke-y of the group hadn't made sure my legs were properly oriented before starting the healing process. I tuned out the outside world as much as I could. Even if I didn't feel like I had the motor control --or wherewithal-- to curl up into a ball physically I felt myself slip into my soul with surprising ease.

Control of my body returned instantly, feeling like I was moving through molasses instead of air but no longer in crippling pain. As a matter of fact, as I took a moment to gather my thoughts I realized I felt more solid within my soul than I had previously. While I couldn't say it with certainty, I was sure it had something to do with either my assimilated Trait or the new Skill that had snuck itself into my Status.

One was expected, considering the catalyst for assimilating Limestone Skin was force. The other not so much, even if I had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with the Shaman's hippie training and Fievil's magic headbutt. Despite my attempts to glean some further information, there was no description attached to . Crossing my fingers that it wouldn't haunt my nightmares like my other unwillingly-acquired Skill, I focused on my assimilated Trait instead. A smile split my face as I read the description and looked in the direction of the creepy skinsuit Paradigm.

Limestone Skin (Striated Dermis)

>The surface of your body has taken on some of the strength properties of compacted sediment.

>Trait Overbanked. Impact forces are minutely dissipated when making contact with soil interfaces.

>Corporeal Threshold. Compress the surface of your skin with an effort of will. Mild enhancement to Slurry Ichor.

"Well, that explains the feel of my body clenching. Also probably a contributing factor to my being alive right now. Thought, the most likely culprit for that is Fievil..." Summoned by my inner monologue, an amber sun blazed into existence above me. The sensation was instantly like approaching and connecting with one of the Dreg Afflicted in the blackspace, except there was no blending zone between the sun and my whitespace. Instead, a smooth gradient radiated from the curled form of a mole at the center.

The link between me and my Soulbound weapon was stronger than ever. Before, it had been like a string attached to my chest pulling me in the direction of the Shard. Now, I was able to feel it all the way down to my soul and it had come with an unexpected visitor. No poking, prodding or even mental pebble launching served to stir my magical companion but I didn't push the issue. I didn't have a clean number on how much mana Fievil had siphoned from me, but a dozen full powered was no small amount. Considering my body hadn't torn itself to ribbons by the side effects, it was likely the backlash of such channeling had gone to my Shard Weapon.

"Oh shit," I said, realization striking me across the metaphysical face. "I'm an actual storybook wizard now! Except I have a war axe instead of a toothpick staff!"

Before I could dive too much deeper into that realization, the world swirled and the stormy sky of Ocala reappeared as Sharon started poking me in the chest with her Shard staff.

"Good, I thought your soul had left your body, but it looks like it just dug deep," the Shaman said, huffing as I jerked back into the moment. I was ready to swat her stick away and shoot back a retort only to groan from the pain that physicality brought. A bright, angry sign covered my entire field of view.

With another groan that sent shivers down my spine, I was able to mumble my way through a response. "Food..."

"Oh great. He makes a huge mess for me and now he wants me to feed him," Sharon said with an eye-roll, once more poking me in the side. I barely felt the poke-- courtesy of my newly advanced Trait and the prioritizing of my nerve ends on pain-- which seemed to aggravate her but she just shook her head. "Get him inside and give him some of the cricket bars. He's done with me for the morning at least. One can only hope he'll be a bit less brazen for his follow up session."

The Shaman didn't wait and strode away with her rain shield, letting the rain resume its cascade around my fall crater. The three satyr who'd dragged me out of the hole shared concerned looks with a grey-haired man with an impressively long goatee that had joined the group. He sighed deeply before talking in a voice that might have been stone grinding on stone. "Let's get him inside. I'll deal with his slime. There should be a free office next to mine on the first floor, you can take him there to rest."

As unceremonious as it was to be carried like a sack of potatoes, I could hardly blame the satyr. My legs weren't cooperative and I probably weighed close to a quarter ton. I did my best to be the most cooperative dead weight I could be, while focusing on anything that wasn't my injuries. Big props for the Nash Druid Circles on their physical conditioning. Now how can I convince them not to feed me ground up insect bits...