Thomas lived in a world of pain, misery, and indignities. He limped along with the three adventurers, his hip aching with every step; he'd cracked the bone. The injury was enough to stab at him every time he moved, but not enough to actually stop him from walking. He lived in fear and anticipation that his hip would break further; fear, that he'd be left here, and anticipation, that at least then he could just lay down and not have to walk anymore.

Breathing hurt; he had multiple broken ribs, and every inhalation felt like somebody had kicked a knife deeper into his chest. His lower back hurt; he couldn't see the damage there, didn't even remember being struck, and given that he was pretty sure he'd seen one of his own ribs when his chest bandage had been changed, he didn't want to.

His jaw was the worst; he couldn't really open or close his mouth, it was swollen nearly shut. Anne chewed his food for him, which he probably would have rated the worst part of the experience if he hadn't been living it; the pain of actually getting the bread into his mouth, and using his tongue to try to swallow it, was far worse. He found himself weeping every meal.

His bandages were changed out every few hours; Norris seemed to have a limitless supply of clean white cloth. He had no dignity there, either; the wound on his hip permitted no dignity, and wrapping the bandages required Arias to move his junk out of her way. The young woman didn't say anything, didn't react to the duty at all, even when he himself … reacted, to the sensation of her touch on him, for which he was grateful.

He couldn't even shit without help – he couldn't squat, and Norris was the one who helped steady him for that … experience. At least he could clean up after himself, small mercies. His clothes had been turned into a kind of skirt; they were otherwise a total loss, someone had cut them apart to check on his wounds. So at least he wasn't walking around entirely exposed, which seemed like the way his life had been going.

They walked, slower than before. They gave him encouraging words, but he could only nod or grunt in response, words beyond his mauled mouth's abilities.

“So lower than the tenth ascension?” He nodded to Anne, she walked beside him. She breathed out. She had waited a couple of days, before starting the interrogation into his abilities. “Lower than the eighth?” Another nod. “Sixth?” Thomas hesitated; he'd been at the fifth ascension when they'd gone into the fight. At length, figuring that was what she really wanted to know, he nodded, then waggled a hand.

She shared a look with Norris; Arias was off doing her thing, running from hilltop to hilltop. The hills were shorter here, and there were even occasional trees scattered around. Norris spoke.

“Was at the fifth, gained the sixth?” Thomas nodded. Anne and Norris shared a look; something between guilt and exasperation.

“And you just walked out in front to fight a pack of silver fawn? Just … tried to punch them out?” Thomas could just nod. Anne sighed, voice lowering slightly, both in volume and tone. “Fuck. No, I told you to take the front. Really should have asked before.” She fixed her gaze on him. “You're lucky to be alive, you know.” Thomas nodded.

“We're all lucky to be alive. Thomas saved my life back there.” Norris' voice was solemn. Thomas remembered – he'd used an ability to pull one of the fawn that had been attacking the man to himself. Anne sighed, again, and nodded.

“We'll be in Piketown the d- … in a few more days.” They were traveling slowly on his account; he couldn't walk very fast at all. “We'll stick around until you're back on your feet. Do you have an armor dedications? Or unarmored? Most brawlers go unarmored.” He considered his jaw, his missing teeth. Fuck that. He wanted a helmet. A thick helmet. He shook his head, at length. “Don't make any choice with your sixth ascension yet, we need to talk.” Her guilty expression intensified. “When you can talk.

Another couple of days passed, and the swelling had come down enough for him to talk. It felt like talking with a mouth full of mush, and it hurt, but he could talk.

“Can I … change my bandages?” His words were as mushy as his mouth felt. One less humiliation to face each day. He hadn't felt like masturbating since … well. And Arias hadn't – he was taken aback by Anne's stark reply.

“No.” He blinked, trying to marshal an argument, but Anne kept going after a second, her voice softening. “Arias has skills in treating wounds, and will know before you do if things start getting worse. I realize you're probably feeling the lack of privacy, but you simply cannot afford an infection.”

“I … alright.” The word came out more as “awree”, as his lips didn't want to move right, and his tongue was still a little swollen. A few more days of that humiliation, then.

“Glad to hear you talking again. Do you think you can chew food now? I can't imagine that is pleasant, either.”

“... yeah.” No, he probably couldn't. His tongue moved to the row of missing molars. But the bread didn't really need that much chewing, and the feeling of pre-chewed food was incredibly unpleasant. A small victory.

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It was an unpleasant victory, as it transpired. He had to suck on the bread until it got soft, and still had to chew a little bit to get the crust to the point where he could swallow it. He chewed carefully, using only one side of his mouth. It hurt, particularly when a piece of the crust stabbed into his gums, which made everything taste like blood.

He'd looked at the heavy armor distinction, after a few tries.

Armor Expertise: Heavy

When wearing Heavy Armor, you may spend 1 Stamina to apply your full Deflection Bonus to your Worn Armor until the beginning of your next turn, +1 Strength

His Deflection Bonus, whatever that was, was 0. The strength bonus seemed nice, but he'd then looked at Unarmored.

Unarmored Defense

When wearing no armor and not using a shield, you get Worn Armor equal to your Agility plus your Perception; +3 to Maximum HP

Which also wasn't very helpful, given that his agility, plus his perception, added up to another 0.

“Anne, which armor distinction … er, dedication should I take?” Anne, for her part, had him repeat himself twice before she understood his question. She looked at him.

“Most brawlers go unarmored. How strong are you?”

“My strength is one, constitution is two, intelligence is zero, wisdom is six, agility is zero, perception is zero.” Anne stared at him for a moment, then blinked.

“Huh. I like the numbers. What is a zero?” He was pretty sure she wasn't asking what a zero literally was, but a frame of reference, so he answered that instead.

“Average, I think. Negative numbers for below average.”

“You think? Okay.” She looked to Norris, who belatedly noticed her glance, and returned it, nodding slowly.

“Thomas won't have much use for any of the basic dedications. He could take a strength dedication, and over time he could grow into heavy armor? But he'd get results sooner if he took the first dedication for unarmored, and got the second at the ninth ascension. Of course, he could use his potential in another ascension or two to get it sooner.”

“Second dedication?” Thomas had, he checked, ten customization points. He had forgotten he could do things with the points other than increase his stats. Norris and Anne both turned to him; Norris spoke, slowly.

“You can improve your dedications. Some of them. Most that can be improved can be improved three times; one improvement at the fifth ascension, a second improvement at the tenth, and a third improvement at the fifteenth ascension.” Thomas blinked.

“What about Fortune Master?” Norris scowled; Anne barked out a laugh, then, looking at him, stopped.

“What, really?” Anne's amusement shifted to concern. “That's … not the best choice for you.” Norris, however, was looking contemplative, scowl fading slightly.

“Not now. I took it myself; the third improvement isn't anything to laugh at.” Anne considered that, then frowned.

“Alright, but it doesn't help him now. Thomas, with your wisdom, you should take the second unarmored dedication. It'll help.”

Thomas considered, tongue exploring the painful gaps where his right molars had once been. He wanted a helmet, is what he wanted, but the unarmored distinction basically told him that he wouldn't be able to, if he pursued this path. He sighed, then, relenting; he would take their advice. His own choices hadn't worked out for him very well.

He took it, before he could think about it for too much longer. Then he pulled up avatar customization, and spent five points on a free distinction. Then focused on the unarmored distinction again.

Improved Unarmored Defense

When wearing no armor and not using a shield, you get Damage Reduction equal to your Intelligence plus your Wisdom

He looked at the effects, then at his statistics screen.

Thomas Bluebrim

Brawler

Legend of Wind

Level 6

0 Misfortunes / 0 Fortunes

0 Curses / 0 Blessings

121/165 Health

0/0 Mana

2/4 Stamina

0 Distinctions Available

29 Skill Points Available

5 Customization Points Available

Strength

Constitution****

Intelligence

1 Melee Damage Bonus

2

0

3 Maximum Worn Armor

140 Maximum Health

22 Additional Skill Points

0 Deflection *

4 Damage Reduction

1 Maximum Stamina Points

1 Melee Damage Bonus

12 Base Armor

0 Spell Piercing *

Wisdom

Agility

Perception

6

0

0

6 Lores

0 Bonus Targeting

0 Reaction Time

6 Arcane Resistance

0 Evasion

1 Stamina Regeneration

0 Mana *

20 Movement *

0 Missile Range Bonus *

The damage reduction didn't show up, which he kind of expected, given what his health looked like. For some reason only some things showed up in the screen. But he had ten damage reduction now, which, given what six blows had done to him, wasn't a huge number, if he got into that fight again. But it was a lot bigger than what he had before.

“Took the second.” Anne blinked, then started.

“Oh! Yes. You'd have some potential left from the fight. I had forgotten about that.” Norris nodded.

“Why'd you take brawler, kid? With wisdom like that, you'd have made an excellent sage.” He was kid, now? Fair enough, he supposed, given the last few days. It was just one more indignity, in a list that kept growing. Thomas grimaced, both at the answer, and thinking that there would still be another day or two of having his bandages changed. Did Arias ever talk, or did she just not talk to him?

“It sounded good at the time.” He wondered how things would have gone if he'd taken spellsword, which had been the option he'd been considering when a stray thought had taken the choice out of his hands.