The sun had barely risen the next morning when Storyteller knocked gently on the door to Ryme’s cottage. It swung open immediately to reveal neither the chief hunter of Felisen nor her daughter. Instead, a scruffy, skinny teenage boy emerged, his sky-blue hair tied back in a tight wolf tail that was nearly hidden by a slouched cap. He wore a quilted coat over his tightly cinched leathers with linen chaps that hung loosely over his hips.
On one side of his belt was a leaf-bladed hatchet with a tooled leather cover protecting its head. Storyteller recognized the runes carved on each side of the axe head as his own handiwork, having contributed to the two weapons Ryme had commissioned from Callahan. The other sat opposite the hatchet, a quiver of hardened, bright white doeskin, which held an unstrung short bow and a few dozen arrows fletched in a mix of red and green feathers.
“Good morning,” Storyteller greeted the youth, a trace of uncertainty in his tone.
“Caden,” the boy answered the unasked question with a small grin. “Ready to go?”
#
The shadows still lay deep on the road leading out of Felisen as the two started on their way. Each wore a comfortable travelbag, Storyteller’s cinched across his chest while Caden looped the straps tightly over his shoulders to minimize the jostling. The spring air still carried a hint of the night’s chill, but the swiftly rising sun promised warmth.
“Did your conversation with your mother go well then?” Storyteller asked as they walked.
“That’s between me and her,” Caden answered simply. He rested an absent hand on the head of his hatchet, then added, “Thank you, by the way. For this.”
“Thank your mother,” Storyteller replied. “She paid me for the work.”
An hour passed easily as the pair continued to walk. Around them, the farms and ranches that provided Felisen’s food began to sluggishly awaken. Even the Beltley farm was functioning again, after some time off in the wake of their transformation.
Caden was proud of his mother - she had taken the situation with the newfound wraiths well in hand, promptly and completely squashing any superstitious discrimination over the state of the transformed family. They’d need extra hands to make up for the crops and animals lost to the miasma, and Ryme had ensured that they would have all the help they needed.
A small tear came to his eye at the thought of his mother. Their final talk had been tearful and difficult for both of them, but Ryme had told them over and over how proud she was of them for making the choice to leave Felisen. It had actually been her suggestion, after she had given Cadence the gifts now riding at his side, for him to spend some time in his more masculine persona. It was a good way to make a clean break with the village Caden was leaving behind.
“No one else you want to say goodbye to?” Storyteller asked. Ahead, they could see the end of the tamed farmlands outside of Felisen, where the road truly entered the emptier lands between villages.
“You mean Brian?” Caden guessed with another grin. He felt good - it always felt like he was allowed to be more confident, even aggressive, when he was presenting this way. He didn’t like it all the time, but for a day like this, it was what he needed.
“I mean anyone,” Storyteller repeated, arching an eyebrow at the teenager’s behavior. “You won’t be back here for some time.”
“I know,” Caden said simply. “But it has to be this way. If I went around saying goodbye to everyone… I don’t know if I’d ever leave.”
“Fair enough,” Storyteller said, his tone slightly impressed.
“So,” Caden asked, “where are we going anyways?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there.”
#
The following weeks were some of the best of Caden’s life. Every day, they’d rise with the sun and start walking. His stamina attribute rapidly grew, and combined with the boon he’d already gotten from the gift of the wanderer, the two were easily able to cover fifteen miles a day, day after day, even with the time they spent hunting to supplement the trail ration they had brought with them.
Caden had spent the first few days frequently looking over his shoulder, thinking of his mother and his home, but Storyteller quickly figured out the best way to distract him. With nothing ahead but open road, there was all the time in the world for Caden to ask every question he could of Storyteller. Already, the adventurer had proven himself an enthusiastic teacher, but on the road, they could spend hours talking about the layout of the Realm, the nature of gifts and magic, and the existence of the archetypes.
“There are over twenty active archetypes known to give gifts in the Realm,” Storyteller explained one morning. “For you to make the most of your power, and to survive while traveling, I want you to know all of them and their major gifts by heart.”
“That seems like… a lot of memorization,” Caden commented with a wince.
“It won’t be as bad as you think,” Storyteller reassured him. “Plenty of scholars have come up with different organizational methods to keep track of the Divine Archetypes. Some use pairs, others pantheons. I find it simplest to speak of them in triads, groups of three associated archetypes, which you’ll find to be common as you travel.”
To break up the cycle of waking, sleeping, and doing it all over again, the two would occasionally take half the day to continue Caden’s training with various weaponry. Most often, these days would fall whenever they happened to come across a roadside inn catering to travelers like themselves. The chance at a real bed and a well-prepared meal instead of a blanket and whatever they could catch for the pot was more than worth stopping their travel early, but it also meant that their training sessions had an audience far more often than Caden liked.
“I don’t like this sort of weapon…” Caden complained one evening. He twirled the long haft of his practice spear in his hands, trying not to think of a certain person who preferred such weapons.
“Your gifts don’t give you much room for preference,” Storyteller reminded him. “If a spear is the best weapon for the gifts you copy, you need to be ready to use it.”He did offer the youth a wink. “Trust me. This is preparing you for the next big ability the gift of the echo will give you.”
“Fine,” Caden groaned, “but do they need to be betting on how I’m going to lose?” He gestured at the small group of men that had gathered around them in a wide arc.
One of the men met Storyteller’s eyes and gave him a thumbs up, and the adventurer grinned. The expression was rakish against his dancing green eyes. “Yes. Yes they do. Now get up, I’ve got five scepters on this next one.”
“Isn’t betting on how you’re going to beat me cheating?”
“Learn enough to take a dive and maybe I’ll let you in on it next time.”
“...Yeah, okay.”
#
Near the end of their first week traveling together, Storyteller suddenly paused, peering into the surrounding woodlands without explanation.
Taking his cue from the seasoned adventurer, Caden did the same. It was too early in the day for them to be stopping, and he didn’t see any sign of an inn, or even one of the trader caravans Storyteller would often stop to chat with. The stretch of road they found themselves on was empty, rarely used enough that it was starting to sprout fragile green blades of grass. To one side, a low, oft-broken fence was the clearest sign of the roadway’s edge.
Caden was surprised at the emptiness of the place, actually. A few rocky hills surrounded them, but the lush grass and shrubbery that grew undaunted just off of the roadside attested to the area’s fertility. Which meant…
“These hills have monsters in them, don’t they?” Caden asked. He kept his voice low, but reached down to unbuckle his hatchet while Storyteller replied.
“They certainly do. Fortunately, most of them seem to prefer to stay in their lairs.”
“Most?”
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“Mmm.” He tilted his chin towards a notable break in the fence line. “They’ll come through there. Are you ready?”
Caden grinned. He hadn’t had the chance to take on a monster since the mess at the Beltley farm. While his first fights had left him with more than a few nightmares for the first couple nights afterwards, the experience had quickly turned into something exhilarating in his mind. It was the real reason for all the training he had been doing with the hunters and Storyteller after all - the chance to prove himself against some wild, dangerous monster, to ensure it didn’t attack someone who couldn’t fight back.
“Right…” His fingers shifted on his hatchet and he dropped into a slight crouch, ready to move any way he needed to. He held both his Gift Reflection and his Soul Surge back, waiting to see what he was facing off against before he committed to a specific strategy.
It took only moments for the monster to reveal itself, and Cadence quickly looked it over, his boosted awareness allowing him to pick out details even from afar. Based on its fluffy tail and brown fur, Caden assumed it had been a squirrel at some point, but very little of the once cute animal remained. Its diminutive body was still quadrupedal, unlike the unnatural goblins he had fought back in Felisen, but it was significantly larger and more muscular than any normal such animal, easily over a foot tall at its shoulder. Its claws were noticeably longer than normal, but the true threat seemed to be the two razor sharp incisors jutting from the monster's upper jaw.
Caden recognized it as a breed of minor monster as common as the weak bramble-spawn he had encountered months before on his way to the barrens. Like weeds, rodents, large insects, and the like both consumed magic more rapidly as a product of their short lifespans. The results were universally referred to as “dire vermin”, making the squat little monster bearing down on him a dire squirrel.
Such monsters were more dangerous and aggressive than their natural varieties, but according to Storyteller, should fall well within the abilities of even a Novice level battle-gifted. Of course, Caden’s gifts stretched the definition of battle-gifted, but the training he had undergone since receiving his gifts had made him significantly more dangerous than his subtle abilities would imply.
Caden expected that a monster like the dire squirrel would be heavily dependent on its natural agility to get close enough to land a bite with those teeth it was packing. The monster may have looked awkward and almost goofy, but with teeth like that, it was more than capable of killing Caden if it bit him in the wrong place. Nodding to himself, he activated his Soul Surge to boost his speed.
Soul Surge - Active, Buff - Increase one attribute by five points. Duration of five minutes, moderate stamina and focus cost incurred when buff expires.
The monster’s lightning quick movements seemed to slow down, the combination of his speed attribute’s enhanced reflexes and perception allowing him to more easily track the magical rodent’s movements. His hatchet flickered through the air, but he failed to land a solid cut, instead just batting the weighty critter away.
It quickly scrambled to its feet, tail upright and bristling as it released a weird hissing chirrup. Like everything else about the dire squirrel, the noise was more funny than intimidating, but as it was followed by another dash from the rodent, Caden didn’t have much time to laugh. He swung with his hatchet, but again, he failed to connect meaningfully, his improved speed not giving him the hand-eye coordination to make his attacks as accurate as they needed to be. Desperate, he grabbed the monster’s tail as it darted by instead.
He grit his teeth through the unexpected pain- the fur on its tail was much more coarse than he expected, not quite as sharp as a hedgehog, but distinctly uncomfortable in his hand - and pivoted, using his own speed and the creature’s own momentum to swing the rodent in an arc.
It bounced off the dirt road, clearly dazed, and before it could recover, Caden swung his hatchet down. The carefully honed edge cut cleanly through the monster’s muscle and bone alike, but it still flailed around, landing a few long scratches along Caden’s arm as he swung his hatchet a second, then a third time before the vermin’s head finally flew off its struggling body.
Caden stood over the mutilated rodent, panting for breath, his axe and shirt both covered in the monster’s blood, reminding him uncomfortably of the aftermath of killing the goat goblin. The boy took a few slow breaths, trying to calm himself despite the iron-y tang of the blood. He refused to panic, to black out again. He was an adventurer now, traveling on his own, and he couldn’t keep letting himself do that!
After a moment, the encroaching nerves passed. Caden looked at Storyteller for approval, but the tall adventurer only arched an eyebrow and flicked a look behind him.
Even with Caden’s improved speed, he barely reacted quickly enough to avoid another squirrel as it flew through the air where his head had been seconds before. He hopped back, just in time to see the bramble part for a third monstrous rodent to emerge from the fenceline as well. Caden winced - he had plenty of time left in his Soul Surge, but a single monster had been tough enough, to say nothing of two at the same time.
While he desperately tried to come up with a plan, the two dire squirrels continued their assault, forcing him to continue fending them off with clumsy swings of his hatchet, but two of them proved to be an entirely different prospect than just one. If he tried to pin one of them down the way he had the first, the spare would be free to attack him from behind. With their agility and how close they were, his bow would be worse than useless, too.
If Caden had boosted his resilience or strength instead, maybe he would’ve been able to take a few hits in order to put them down more decisively, but he couldn’t stack another Surge while the first one was still active. And, to his continued dismay, he caught sight of a fourth joining the other two.
Still, Storyteller had made no motion to join the fight, even though Caden knew that the adventurer could easily destroy the dire vermin. It would only take a single use of one of those lightning bolts to…
Caden’s eyes went wide at the realization. Lightning bolts! He shot a quick look at Storyteller, even the brief moment of distraction costing him another scratch as a squirrel scuttled past, and used the other ability from his echo gift. He had never tried to copy an ability from Storyteller before, but the attack he was looking for quickly appeared before his eyes, his Gift Reflection recognizing his thoughts and needs.
Gift Reflection - Active, Soul - Copy one gift ability from a nearby target. Gift abilities operate at Novice level regardless of the target’s level. Abilities from certain gifts cannot be copied. This ability has a one hour cool down, but the copied ability is retained until it is used again.
Gift of Lightning reflected
Lightning Bolt - Active, Elemental, Attack - Shoot a single bolt of lightning at a target. Attack is brief, but destructive, and will pass through most obstacles. Major quintessence cost (converted to major stamina and focus cost).
Caden frowned at the description. The attack’s cost was even higher than he had expected. Combined with the cost of his Soul Surge when it ran out, even one use would leave him with a pounding migraine. His stamina could probably bear a second use, given the boost it received from his wanderer gift, but his focus lacked a similar boon.
Still, it was worth it. With a particularly wild flailing of his axe, he forced the trio of squirrels back momentarily, then thrust out his free hand, forcing magic through the temporary pattern the gift of the echo had put into his soul. There was an odd fluttering in his chest, like the excitement of an approaching festival, that matched the lightning that began to crackle around his fingers with odd little pops, like static, before it coalesced and shot at the squirrels.
The attack was too brief for Caden to see anything more than a flash that left splintered imprints in his vision, but it did the job. Even as he sagged in place, feeling the drop to his focus and stamina, he surveyed the results of the attack. Two of the squirrels had been destroyed entirely, along with a good portion of the fence. The third survived - but apparently the attack was savage enough to overwhelm even its aggression, and it turned to run.
“Pick up the spare,” Storyteller urged him, but the words were unnecessary. Even as exhausted as he was, Caden’s hands had flown to his shortbow, nocking an arrow with the lingering speed of his temporary boost. Caden might not have a lot of experience fighting monsters, but he had helped his mother hunt rabbits and the like for years. Caden had a second arrow in flight before the first even hit the dire squirrel, and while the monster managed to run through the pain of the first, green-fletched, arrow, the second was fletched with bright red feather and finally felled the last of the monsters.
“Sloppy, but acceptable,” Storyteller told Caden.
As the adrenaline wore off, Caden slouched in place, feeling both the exhaustion of his spent attributes and the burning pain of the numerous wounds he had accrued. None of the scratches were dangerous, even put together, but the wounds stung persistently and oozed blood. The tunic he wore was basically a loss.
“That was clever, using my Lightning Bolt, but until your gift gets high enough to mimic a quintessence pool too, I’d recommend against copying Primal gift abilities.”
Caden winced, struggling through the discomfort and tiredness to try to process the older adventurer’s words. He barely managed to grunt, “Noted. Thanks.”
Storyteller surveyed the empty field thoughtfully, then looked down at Caden. “Do you need a potion?”
Caden felt his head sag down, until his head was resting against his collarbone. He just sat on the ground for a minute, slowly breathing, feeling his body throb with the pain of a dozen or so cuts. “No.”
“No?”
“I need to get used to it, right?” Caden asked, still not looking up at Storyteller. “This is the life I wanted, I’m not gonna go running for a potion every time I screw up and get hurt.”
“Hmm.” Storyteller made a thoughtful sound above Caden, and he looked up sharply.
“What?” Caden snapped, his patience about run dry.
“Just surprised is all. I find most people need to be taught that lesson.” Storyteller’s tone was enough to wring a small smile out of Caden, even if heturned his face back down before the tall man could see it.
“Here, bandage yourself up at least,” Storyteller told him, tossing down a bundle of gauzy white linen.
Without a word, Caden nodded and started winding the bandages around his forearm, the motions smooth despite his shaking hands. It was another skill Ryme had made sure he developed early on, given the number of cuts and scrapes he’d often come home with growing up.
By the time he finished and looked up, Storyteller was surveying the horizon with a squint. “I’d say we can get in a good five more miles today. You manage that, I’ll give you a potion so that you can get some sleep.”
“I don’t–”
“Accept it,” Storyteller advised. “I’m happy I didn’t have to teach you this lesson, but trust me on this one. Once you try to go to sleep with that many wounds and no potion, you’ll understand why I’m insisting. There’s no getting used to that particular experience.”
Once they started walking again, Storyteller suggested, “If you think this is uncomfortable, figure out how to not exhaust yourself every time you fight a few vermin.”
Caden frowned, but took the older adventurer’s suggestion, musing over the fight in his mind and trying to envision what he could’ve done differently.