Chapter 8 – Side Story: Rooted Home
Unknown Point of View
The sounds and songs of a swamp during the height of summer. Music to my people’s ears. Frustrating to me. Frustrating because it reminds me that I am a prisoner here. Incapable of leaving home to see the world at large. By order of my village’s council, I am to take the place of the soon to be pass village Shaman.
[https://i.imgur.com/4vDKCHE.png]
Yet, I desire freedom to roam around. Boundless adventure to move place to place as the wind takes me. That is natural for someone like me, for I am not a tree. Why root myself in place and grow old?
I just turned of age, twenty summers, nineteen winters. The exploration guild had already accepted my request to join. So why do they ruin my future? My life? I am not some bird to be kept in a cage.
The elder mother of the council sits before me on a comfortable pillow, grinding away at a mixture of herbs and fungi. I, however, am bound by my wrists to a stake in the ground of the yurt.
While she has ornate, comfortable robes on. I hang naked, covered in magical markings, paint, and fresh tattoos. I hate her. I hate this village. I hate this. Hate. Hate.
My angry gaze catches her attention, she speaks with a croaking voice. “My dear, in the hundreds of years I have lived, I have never had one scowl at me so hard.”
I retort angrily, “In those centuries, how far and wide have you seen the world?”
She pursed her lips and answered quite seriously, “Mn, most of it. Most of it I can assure you is not worth seeing.”
“Elder Pifua, that’s my decision to make. You plan to bind me here like the current Shaman. I am not cattle! Not to be used for medicine or fortune telling.”
Pifua’s wrinkled face smiles softly, “Yes. Someone has to do it. The others might claim religious reasons, but I know it’s just a practical need. Do not worry, dear, you won’t be aware of it after tonight. Your mind will soar with nature, and you can see this whole land from here. You will speak with the gods and the trees. How is that a punishment?”
“Listen to yourself you old fucking hag! You’re condemning me to live a century or two in a drug induced haze! Just to get some omens of the future? There’s skills for that! I’ve read in books that there are wizards who can see the future. Why this? Why me?!”
“You’re the youngest of the tribe, sweetheart. The Seto family’s child isn’t due for another decade, and then it would be two more before it would suffice for this. The current Shaman is going to the beyond this year. We cannot wait. As for others… you would put the fate of our tribe in the hands of the non-Elven?”
“What is the harm in that? Other elven tribes have joined them just fine! Why must we be so traditionalist?”
“It is the way, dear. Now, let’s get you comfortable.” I grit my teeth as she finishes up the mixture. No more talking. I will not allow her to put it in my mouth. I will not eat it. She stands with the bowl in her hand and then shakes her head slowly. “Open or I will force it into you.”
I growl through gritted teeth, “fuhkyu.” Even if she does drug me, I’ve practiced poisoning myself for years. I knew this would happen someday and I made preparation. Still, I’m not going to just comply with the old hag.
I open my menu in my mind’s eye – whilst twisting my head about to avoid the drugs at the same time. I seek re-assurance that the skills are there.
> ACTIVE SKILLS:
> Drug Resistance Level 1; Continual passive application.
> Weak Barrier Level 1; Minor protection against cuts and piercing, 1 mana per hour.
With those two skills active, she shouldn’t be able to easily inject me or poison me by a little at a time. I just need keep my mouth shut.
“Tsk,” she turns and fetches a long, wooden tool. That’s a big needle? It isn’t slick and polished nor does it have a fine tip. I widen my eyes and jerk my head away from her as she walks back towards me. It’s a funnel for my nose! I forgot my nose!
Those ice cold, elderly hands grip my hair and pull my head back. “Wait wait! I’ll take it properly!”
“No, you made your choice,” the old bitch says as she forced the long, thin section of the funnel up my nose. Gods, it hurts! It burns so much! I can feel blood trickling down my face as the cruel bitch twists it a little too hard.
“Hn, bones in the way,” she complains before putting more pressure on it. I scream as the ridge of the nasal bone cracks. The wooden instrument suddenly slides deeper into the back – all the way until resistance stops it against.
My world blanks out as I pass out from pain.
…
The world comes back to me in fits of swirling, bright images. They fade in and out of clarity as I drift in a dreamlike trance. I see things. A gathering of people. Chanting and singing of the words of magic. The smell of fresh blood. The Shaman killed by ritual and cut apart. It all floats in and out of my perception.
> You have gained Drug Resistance Level 3
The world clears up around me, but only just enough. My body still is moved on its own, like a puppet by some magic caster’s will. Pifua. I know its her. I can taste the witch doctor’s mana with my soul. My eyes wander as I try to take in my situation.
It’s dusk, so it’s been at least a whole day since she drugged me. Before me is the communal dining hall, the table within hosting a grand meal. The meal is already half-eaten, and I continue to consume it through Pifua’s puppeteering.
My eyes focus on the meal. It’s the Shaman’s body. All of it has been prepared as a meal and the majority has been eaten. Inside my head I scream in anger, yet my hands drunkenly move to consume more of him. I feel so full. It’s sickening.
> You have gained Vielfraß, Level 41
> You have gained Inherited Memories, Level 18
> You have received Curse: Rooted
> You have received Title: Shaman of the Yazenara Great Woods Tribe
> You have received Blessing of the Great Devourer
> You have received Blessing of the Great Woods
> You have received Class: Shadow Walker
> You have received message. Check messages.
This is to much. I retreat into my mind’s space. Alone and scared. I have nothing to do. I’m powerless. So, I distract myself with what I’ve gained.
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> Vielfraß Level 41
> You may consume the flesh of any living being and inherit their memories. The target may be consumes in whole or in part. User’s body will conform to facilitate activation of skill. Upon activation, Inherited Memories is flagged for activation. You may bite through anything living, your strength will be enhanced until you succeed.
>
> Inherited Memories Level 18
> Through another skill’s abilities, you are capable of reading another’s memories as long as the activating skill’s requirements are engaged. Memories are fully available for one day to be perused through by the user. After a day, anything not committed to memory will fade away. Permanently incorporating the memories, mind, personality, skills, magics, or other elements of a soul will require a mana or XP cost. These requirements vary greatly. Under the correct ritualistic conditions you may absorb all of these things at the cost as required by the ritual.
>
> Curse: Rooted
> Your flesh may merge with a magic tree or magic wood. Once in place, your body will be grafted into the tree and you will become one with it. Your uses to others may vary, depending on the enchantments and plant that has been used to curse you, you are unable to move once fully rooted. Even by magical means.
Rooted… the curse I didn’t want to inherit. The curse that damns me. I’ll never be free. I hate, hate this village. I hate everyone here. I hate everything about my life.
> Title: Shaman of the Yazenara Great Woods Tribe
> You are the Shaman of the Yazenara Great Woods Tribe. The world pities you.
>
> Blessing of the Great Devourer
> Hraesvol has blessed you. Vielfraß now has unlimited use. You may consume as much as you desire with no ill effects. You are immune to any disease or food poisoning gained through meals.
>
> Blessing of the Great Woods
> Moderwodaz blesses you in your time of trial. You have gained the class Shadow Walker. The Great Woods will shade your movements and actions, you gain the class Shadow Walker. You may converse with trees and share their memories if they so will it. You gain the skill, Tree Friend.
Okay. Those are… interesting. The world pities me, do the gods know my plight? “Help me!” I cry out to the void. Nothing answers in this mindscape of mine. Continue to review.
> Shadow Walker
>
> You are capable of accessing all Rogue and Assassin skill-sets.
>
> You have gained the Trait: Wood Walker, you may move through a forest via the trees at very high speeds, as an incorporeal mana shade.
>
> You have gained the Trait: Shadow Movement, you may move freely in the realm of shade, at a normal pace you are capable of, using shadows to enter and exit the realm.
>
> You have gained the Trait: True Stealth, you may move without emitting any sounds.
>
> Why does a Shaman have these skills? What possible use? You’re stuck in a tree with the curse. Is that why they bind a Shaman, so they can’t run away? In fact, I don’t even see the word Shaman in any of these outside of the title. What am I even becoming?
>
>
> Reminder: you have received a message. Please check messages.
“Alright already! I’m doing it!”
> Message: Greetings next cursed one. Welcome to hell. Your skills will be cultivated and then passed down to the next individual. Through the use of the trees in our woods, myself and other past Shamans have trained the ability to move through the woods themselves. If you are reading this before you are rooted. Do not let the roots take hold! Escape! If you do not escape, then this message is for the one after you. You must do your best to cultivate those skills.
“What…” my voice echoes in my void. “They’ve been planning all this time. A way to escape. To find revenge. Now I, with poison resistance, will either get free or pass it to the next elf that has to be rooted. In a century or two. Like hell I’m going to let that happen. I’m getting fre – AHG!”
I am yanked out of my meditative mind space through the most intense pain yet. I look about in a panic, my neck barely responding to my efforts. Tree roots are digging into my skin and every orifice of my body. My throat is on fire as the tree reaches its way down it.
> Status: Rooted, 98%, effect, immobility, anti-magic field.
[https://i.imgur.com/CD4YkCt.png]
Tears stream down my face as the status bar flashes into my mind’s eye. It is almost over. Almost. I see Pifua preparing another dose of the drug nearby. Her face gives fuel to my rage. Like hell I’m staying here! Absolutely not!
> Skill activated: Vielfraß, Level 41
My jaw cracks and reinforces as my teeth sink into the root that’s in my mouth. I can hear the great village tree screaming suddenly in agony. Pifua and other villagers are in a panic, trying to figure out what is happening. Good. Fear me, bitch.
With a crunch, I bite through the root in my mouth. With that severed, I look at the status.
> Status: Rooted, 47%, effect, stiff movement.
Bingo.
> Skill activated: Wood Walker, Level 1
I slip right into the tree itself. My body phasing out of a corporeal form. Now the bastards are REALLY confused. It looks like the tree just ate me alive. “Well, it’s going to be the other way around now,” I murmur aloud to myself. Except they all freeze in terror. My voice echoes through the nearby trees as if it was the woods themselves talking to them.
> Skill activated: Tree Friend, Level 27
All of the trees in the wood start to move. Shifting, sliding in place. A wall around the entire village now. The magic tree I hurt, however, refuses to cooperate. “You who were soaked in the blood of those before me, I will uproot you. You who are unremorseful.”
Other trees push it over and grind it beneath their bulky roots. In a matter of minutes now, the village is entirely surrounded. Elves that fled into the woods vanish with screams as roots pull them beneath the ground.
I materialize out of the trees, ending Wood Walker. The mana cost was too high at this point to continue it; I feel a strain on my soul. A hunger. “Oh Pifua~” I say with a pleasant voice. The group of elves suddenly distance themselves as far from the woman as possible. Roots grab her and she is roughly thrown towards me. A cracking sound escapes her rib cage as she lands at my feet.
“Pifua~ elder, witch doctor, have I become what you want? A shaman?” I put my boot to her neck as she gasps for breath. “Bullshit this is not a shaman’s skills. You’ve been abusing the blessing of the woods. You abused the woods itself. You corrupted the village’s tree. Your family is to blame for all this. The village is to blame, even. Blood. Sap. On everyone’s hands. I can see it all now. I can see the memories of all those before me. I can see the wood’s memories… and Pifua.”
My mind races with a flood of memories, mostly from the prior shamans, but also the trees telling me what has happened. I lean down to her with a smile, “and these woods have a long memory.”
> Skill activated: Vielfraß, Level 41
My jaw breaks apart. It hurts but not as much as the torture I received at this woman’s hands. “I will, return the favor, yes?” I begin to consume her. Not like a snake, but rather, the trees rip meat off her. Piece by piece. I consume her. I keep her alive as long as I can. Meanwhile, the villagers stand in terror before rational thought informs them to flee. The trees have, hah, rooted them in place. I make them watch every moment of it.
“A fate you gave the prior shaman, now yours.” Her memories scroll through my head, and I find many interesting things. The trees give me some of their mana, and I keep absorbing everything useful from her soul and mind. It tastes foul, just like her, but I do it. She took from me, so I take from her.
Roaming her memories, I head right to the start of it all. There: Pifua is conversing with someone. Their face and name are obscured in the memory, likely by some form of magic. Yet, I know it is a female vampire with silver hair. This wretched monster is teaching Pifua how to accomplish a form of vampirism.
The wretch was over three thousand years old; drinking the bloodsap of the rooted to get vitality. All of it, the entire village, was a sham to milk elves of their lives. Everyone knew, and so the youngest were raised in ignorance. It was always the youngest of the tribe to go first. Then ‘volunteers’ if the tree demanded. The village is built on lies and sacrifice of the young.
Anger boils out from the depths of my soul as the memories fade away into reality. “Half of you are almost as old as Pifua. What, did you get jealous of high elves?” I scorn them as they stare back with terrified looks. “So, I return that favor. Thank you for the meal,” I say sarcastically as roots proceed to slaughter them all. It is nearly impossible to escape the trees and within moments the terrible cries are silenced.
There are only a few villagers that aren’t present, all guilty. The vampire, as well, I will find her or her lineage. My mind is overwhelmed with the cries of the damned. The near endless mana and the use of my skills drive me to the brink of insanity.
It has been a century since that event. I aimlessly wander. The hunger of countless souls cry out to me. I am Feya, the champion of Hraesvol. Bringer of woe. Friend of trees. Devourer of the unjust. I hunger for their sins. An aimless terror that stalks the night.
Ahead of me, in my future, I see the greatest sinners of all. With a smile, I set off to join the Hero’s Party.