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chapter 2

The Witchdoctor and it’s many peculiarities

Among the many mage classes there are many diverse and flexible classes. Offering access to all sorts of schools and development paths but one stands out as being different to the extent that it is hard to classify as a casting class at all.

Witchdoctors are unique in that they have access to all schools of magic but are unable to cast spells as other classes do. Instead they rely solely on thaumaturgy, sympathy, familiars, effigy and ritual.

In theory with enough time and work any spell could in fact be performed but due to the required time and effort involved it would be impractical to surpass a standard mage of any field of greater than 3rd circle.

Thus witchdoctors while flexible are one of the rarest classes in existence to to their lact of power efficiency and primitive methodologies.

Day 1 part 2

K’gan began his new life in the dungeon safe zone by coming to grips with his new situation and new prompts. To start he decided based on all evidence provided that he was not an isekai’d old man.

He bore no attachments to his previous life. He had no lingering desires from looking at his old memories. In fact now that he had knowledge of them, it reminded him more of a movie than a previous life. He was in fact a 9 summer old child who now remembered his previous life.

One that finally understood what had happened to him to remove him from his previous village and put him in the care of that psychotic witch doctor, but that could wait as right now every second counted for his survival. The first thing of note was that he had not been teleported alone.

It was as if large swath of the surroundings including the witchdoctor’s hut had been scooped up and dropped in the middle of a small field surrounded by stone walls in all directions but 2 passages.

One wall had a small crack that released water into a small pond below so at first glance a water source had been secured. Hopefully it wouldn’t be full of heavy metal or some other nastiness.

Surveying around there was a small bit of woods, maybe an ache in size; it did not appear to be inhabited by anything much larger than small animals. So the surroundings could be considered relatively safe. Glancing back at the hut he mentally shuddered and turned away. There was at least a few more things to check before he was forced to deal with the contents of that horror show.

K’gan crept slowly towards one of the 2 interances from an oblique angle so as to avoid casual detection. He did not want to surprise or be surprised by anything that could be in that passage. Bringing himself to the edge tried everything he could think of to get a grasp of what may be down that hall without having to actually look around the edge he was hidden behind.

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He listened and the only sound he heard was his heart beat. He sniffed to smell the earthy cave air coming in, he considered tasting the rock but decided that would probably do nothing. So with a last deep breath he peeked over the edge and promptly just back along the wall, but on analyzing the image he got from that moment he saw nothing but an empty hallway.

Reassured that it was probably empty he came out from cover to examine the hall again. Just as before it was empty of any threat he could find but he did get more details. The end of the hall opened up into what appeared to be a jungle at the other end.

Although he did start at the sight of a large skink on the wall next to him. To which the skink seemed to roll its eyes give him a nasty look and head back towards the jungle.

“Yeah well, same to you buddy.”

Ok initial assessment of the hall looked safe but as this was a dungeon and both his past and present lives said dungeons were never safe or to be trusted he backed away slowly and headed for the only other exit to see what lay in that direction.

This time with just a bit more courage he walked up and boldly looked at yet another hallway leading this time to a huge sturdy gate.

‘Welp, not opening that’

As if response to K’gan’s thoughts the gate seem to become more inviting and safer.

‘Yeah not falling for that. You are clearly a magical door meant to attract me to my doom using your wiles. No thank you.’

The door seemed to sag in disappointment without moving at all.

K’gan backed away slowly, not making any sudden moves.

‘Not getting eaten today no sir’

Keegan shut his eyes before the moment of impact with the truck. Bizarrely he felt smug for being able to flip off his killers before passing. While he may die he would atleast get a small win out of it.

As the pain began to mount he reached within himself to his memory palace one last time to avoid all the external pain much like he had done so many times before.

He was proud of this mental construct. He had worked on it a little each day since he learned about the idea as a child and while it didn’t give him the perfect memory he had always wanted from it. It did allow him to better organize those memories and make them easier to find.

It was still a very useful skill and he found with practice he could go deeper and deeper into the palace construct to block out the world around him to greater and greater degrees.

So it came as no surprise that it was his first response to being in a man on truck impact to retreat there as well.

What did surprise him was when the memories of his whole life started to flash before his eyes.

‘Well guess I can finally complete my memory palace.’

As his memories continued to flash infront of him he would reach out and as he always did channel that memory into a volume which he then put on his shelf and with each memory he managed to catch this way the repeat of the revolving cycle of his life playing before him grew shorter and more and more volumes began to appear on his shelf. Painstakingly organized by chronology until all that remained were the memories of his birth and the last moment of his life, strangely both going through a tunnel of light. Instead of just making to more books for the shelf he imagined them as bookends for this shelf.

‘Well, I've completed the palace and I appear to be dead. I wonder what else there is to do?’