by M E Robinson
Occasionally a wolf, demonic rabbit, or other small creature would approach. Diving towards Eric with a dangerous glint in their eyes. However, these were all swiftly dispatched with a few well placed arrows. Single wolves were not too much of a threat anymore, especially not after that harrowing 1v2. As Eric pulled a pair of arrows out of the carcass of a red-maned wolf, he heard a cry.
Have other players ventured this far north? Eric wondered as he followed the source of the screams with a sense of déjà vu. Drawing closer to the sounds, he was startled by the sudden appearance of a system message.
[Quest received: Save the militia]
Save the two militiamen who are under attack! Kill or drive off the Elite Wolf.
Reward: Possibility to learn new skills. Increased favour with Novanalba Militia.
Knowing that they were NPC’s who could reward him with skills, he abandoned stealth and began to run, gripping his bow. Crashing through the undergrowth, he followed the sounds of battle. Emerging into a dim, dark clearing, Eric could see a pair of militiamen struggling against an enormous wolf roughly the size of a picnic table. Standing well over a meter high, the wolf was almost as tall as Eric himself, with paws the size of bricks capped off with claws the size of pocket knives.
One of the men was clearly injured, his leg dragging as he kept his blade raised high. His companion stood in front of him, sword at the ready should the wolf attack once more.
As Eric watched, the wolf batted one militiaman aside, throwing the man and his weapon back a good two metres. Grabbing an arrow, Eric began to nock it to his bow, getting ready to save the man. However, before the arrow could even reach the string, the wolf leapt powerfully towards the injured militiaman, its claws batting away his sword as the wolf’s fangs found his throat. With a vicious tearing motion, the wolf jumped back, leaving the militiaman to fall forward, his newly opened throat staining the soft mossy floor of the clearing red with blood.
- Chapter Thirty -
Death
Getting back to his feet, Owin glanced at Wyll’s body. The wolf’s claws had left huge marks across his once handsome face, his eyes still open in the same shocked expression he’d often worn in life. Especially at the tavern and during briefings with Captain Alistair.
“Damn it, Wylls, weren’t you supposed to propose to Milda soon? Weren’t you always going on about how you’d never die to a lowly monster?” Owin swore, venting his frustration at the hopelessness of the situation on his companion’s corpse.
With a low snarl, the wolf approached. Closing his eyes in a moment of silent prayer, Owin raised his blade, pointing the tip at the wolf’s snout, whose fur was matted and stained a dark black by the blood of his friend. As he watched, the wolf began to walk leisurely towards him, like a cat with a cornered chick.
I’m no threat alone and it knows it, Owin thought helplessly as the wolf continued to advance. Throwing its head back, the wolf let out a loud howl. Owin felt his blade begin to quiver, a warm liquid staining the inside of his breeches. Firming his resolve to at least die honourably, Owin let out a yell and raised his sword high.
Just as he was about to charge the beast, its snout still letting out that terrible howl, an arrow flashed by his head, slamming into the wolf’s throat and putting an end to both the howl and Owin’s futile charge. Gaping, Owin watched as the wolf roared in pain, pawing furiously at the arrow embedded in its neck.
“Don’t just stand there! Attack if you want to live!” a voice roared from behind him.
Gripping his sword tightly, Owin let out a loud shout and charged over the muddy leaves at the wolf.
Eric’s face sunk as he watched the man die, his hands clawing feebly at the earth in a vain attempt to survive. The wolf just stared passively at his final twitches, its fangs stained red with the man’s blood. Now that the militiaman had died and he’d failed the quest, Eric began to consider running. The wolf was indeed huge, and the way it moved was far faster and more efficient than the normal red-maned wolves he’d slain before. As long as the remaining member of the militia could hold it off for long enough for him to escape, he should have a chance at getting away. Just as Eric was considering his options, a new message appeared in front of him.
[Quest Updated: Save the remaining militia member]
You arrived too late to save them both. Try to save the surviving militiaman. Kill or drive off the Elite Wolf.
Reward: Possibility to learn a new skill. Increased favour with Novanalba Militia. ???
Seeing that the quest had changed instead of being failed, Eric gripped his bow tightly and took aim at the enormous wolf. The other militiaman had gotten back to his feet and was holding his sword unsteadily, his eyes firm as he stared down the enormous wolf.
Locking eyes with the militiaman, the wolf slowly started to pace forward, its enormous paws leaving marks in the leaves covering the ground. Throwing back its head, it let out a terrifying howl. As the militiaman raised his blade to attack, Eric loosed his arrow. The shot flying straight and true, sinking directly into the wolf’s throat.
With a wailing roar, the wolf clawed at its throat in an attempt to dislodge the arrow. While the shot was well placed and probably would have critically wounded, if not outright killed any normal wolf, this one must have a much thicker pelt. Its healthbar only decreased by roughly ten percent after being struck by the arrow.
Looking at the healthbar which had appeared, Eric cursed. He’d been hoping that the two militiamen had done some real damage to the wolf before he’d arrived. Unfortunately, it seemed that they’d been struck dumb with fear as the wolf’s health was still almost 60% full despite his arrow landing a critical hit.
Seeing that the remaining fighter was just standing there, his blade raised high and his mouth open dumbly like a goldfish, Eric roared at him, “Don’t just stand there! Attack if you want to live!”
Closing his mouth, the militiaman nodded, his swordpoint once again steady. As the man charged, the wolf stopped attempting to remove the arrow, preparing itself to leap at the militiaman. Nocking another arrow to his bow, Eric fired a second shot at the wolf, forcing it to jump aside in order to avoid it instead of continuing its pounce towards the fighter.
Bringing his sword down with a rough yell, the militiaman hacked at the wolf, which responded by swinging its paw at him. Having learned from his previous experience, the fighter jumped back, the space he’d just occupied suddenly buzzing as a second arrow slammed into the wolf’s shoulder.
Nocking another arrow to his bow, Eric continued to snipe at the wolf while the fighter tanked, using his sword to harry and cut at the wolf whenever it tried to get around him and charge towards Eric’s hiding spot.
With a loud roar, the wolf suddenly jumped high, soaring over the fighter. Landing behind him its rear paws lanced out, catching the fighter mid-turn and sending him tumbling to the ground. With a low growl, the wolf sniffed at the air, flinching as another arrow came flying towards it. Ducking low, the wolf took the arrow in the side, rather than in the eye as Eric had intended.
“Tch,” he clicked his tongue. As the wolf charged, he took the opportunity to fire another arrow, shaving off a few more of the wolf’s hitpoints. With a mighty pounce, the wolf soared into the brush Eric had occupied only moments before. Appearing beside the bush, Eric came out of his roll and used Evasive Shot, the arrow thudding into the wolf’s flank and causing it to snarl angrily at him.
Checking the wolf’s healthbar, Eric groaned. It was still nearly 20% full despite the arrows now sticking out of it. Retreating towards the surviving fighter’s fallen form, Eric nocked another arrow, firing too early as he was forced to throw himself backwards to avoid its swipe.
Swipe, swipe, bite, swipe. The wolf’s attacks were relentless, forcing him back without a chance to counterattack. All he could do was dodge repeatedly, the wolf’s strikes were far faster up close than they had seemed from afar.
He fought this for almost a full minute? Eric thought in a
mazement as he approached the prone form of the surviving militiaman. Gritting his teeth, Eric dodged another swipe and nocked an arrow to his bow. Drawing it back to its full length, he fired the arrow directly into the wolf’s chest as it reared for another attack. Roaring in pain, the wolf ignored the new addition to its chestfur, slamming its paw into Eric and sending him flying several meters across the clearing.
Rolling to his feet, Eric watched his healthbar drain to less than 50% from the single blow. His left arm had also been crippled which meant he couldn’t wield the bow, gritting his teeth as it clattered to the ground below. Now that he’d created this opening, he couldn’t miss the chance. His finger rapidly tracing several runes in midair.
As the wolf leapt across the clearing, its forepaws outstretched ready to tear open this half-elf who’d caused it so much pain, Eric released his spell, watching as the gathered mana coalesced into nine flaming orbs which sped towards the mid-air form of the wolf.
Only two meters from his bloody form, an enormous explosion blossomed as the spell met the wolf in mid-air. With a wordless scream, Eric was thrown backwards, the explosion slamming him into the trunk of an enormous oak tree.
Sliding down the trunk, Eric looked at his healthbar blinking red - only eight percent of his health remained. Weakly, he raised his eyes to see the aftermath of his spell. His Multi-linked Flame Strike had hit the wolf’s head on, sending it crashing backwards where it had smashed into the ground, smoke rising off its smouldering pelt.
It has to be dead, right? Eric thought as he weakly tried to struggle to his feet. The UI informed him that the mana rebound from using the spell had rendered him almost completely unable to move, which combined with the stun effect from having been hit both by the explosion and being slammed into a tree meant that his body was incapable of listening to his commands.
Under Eric’s desperate gaze, the wolf slowly got up. Its healthbar showing less than five percent of its health remaining. A feeling of hopelessness rose in Eric. I’m finished, he thought sadly, sliding down the trunk as the wolf approached on unsteady feet.
As the wolf drew closer and closer, the stench of burnt fur filled Eric’s nose. Wincing, he closed his eyes, leaning back against the trunk. At least my first death won’t have been to a normal monster, he thought as the wolf’s enormous jaws closed around his neck.
- Chapter Thirty-One -
The Scout
With the loud sound of rending flesh, Eric relaxed. At least death didn’t seem to hurt that much in Fate, he thought as he attempted to feel his neck. For some reason though, his arms were still barely listening to him, the stunned status still affecting him.
Feeling something was off, Eric opened his eyes to see the enormous wolf still just in front of him. Its jaws, however, were not resting around his neck, filling its mouth with his blood. Instead, they flopped uselessly as the wolf slowly fell to the side, its enormous body collapsing on the ground in front of him, creating a small crater in the leafy ground. The milky whites of its eyes showed that its life was finally depleted.
Behind the wolf, with his sword still embedded in the beast’s back, stood the surviving militiaman. Panting hard, he pulled his sword from the wolf, wiping the blade on its fur.
“Thanks for saving me, I owe you my life,” he said, reaching out to help Eric up.
[Elite Red-maned Wolf has died]
[Quest Complete: Save the remaining Militia!]
Looking at the militiaman in shock, Eric was greeted by two system messages announcing his success. Smiling wryly, he looked at the remaining time for his stunned status, six more seconds.
“Sorry, just give me a second. I was pretty badly hurt at the end there,” he told the man who was still standing there with his arm outstretched.
“I’ve got a potion here, take it,” the militiaman advised, removing a small flask from his belt. Unscrewing the cap, he lowered it to Eric’s lips who drank a small mouthful. With a sudden feeling of invigoration, Eric watched his healthbar soar to almost sixty percent full, his mana rebound status disappearing.
Taking the offered hand, Eric stood up, surveying the damage to the clearing. The once calm clearing was now completely transformed, the leaves torn up and scattered while fresh bloodstains shone in the dawn’s pale light. To one side lay the dead militiaman, an enormous puddle of blood pooling beneath his pale corpse. At the other end of the clearing lay the dead wolf, nearly half a quiver of arrows sticking out of its corpse which lay stilly only a foot away from Eric.
“I’m Owin, a member of the Novanalba militia. I owe you my life,” said the militiaman, shaking Eric’s hand.
Nodding, Eric sighed. “I just wish I’d arrived in time to save your companion,” he lamented.
“Wylls was a good man. But he was never a talented fighter. He froze up there, forgot his training. You can’t blame yourself for his death. It was just unfortunate that we ran into a freak like this while scouting,” Owin responded.
“Scouting?”
“Aye, Commander Sloane wants us to find out about the Ironfrost Horde’s movements. We’ve been tracking goblins in the northern woods for the past week. We were just on our way back when that monstrous wolf beset us. Had you not intervened then both of us would be dead and all our information would have been lost.”
“Just doing my duty as a fellow militia member,” Eric explained, flashing his badge to the man. Owin’s eyes widened.
“You’re also a member of the militia? In that case, I’m going to make a selfish request. Can you escort me to the nearest village?”
Eric nodded, “Of course. I can’t shirk my duties to Novanalba. Tonbura village should be the closest to here.”
Owin grinned, “Ole Grumpy Alistair, eh? That works for me.”
Bending down Eric looted the wolf’s corpse. Unfortunately, all of the arrows embedded in its pelt were now unuseable, having been destroyed in the explosion from his spell.
[You have received Singed Dire Wolf Pelt]
[You have received 16 Dire Wolf Claws]
[You have received 7 Dire Wolf Fangs]
[You have received 9 Broken Iron Arrows]
[You have received Partially-Digested Leather Satchel]
Staring at the last line, Eric opened his storage pouch with a curious expression. Looking inside, he took out a heavily damaged leather bag. The bag was torn by what appeared to be wolf teeth, its exterior harshly scarred by the wolf’s digestive fluids. With a disgusted look, Eric gingerly opened the bag.
[You have received Spellbook: Wind Blade!]
Eyes widening, Eric looked at the small green book in his hands. The book was tiny, with only two pages held together by an unadorned leather cover. Flipping the book open, he saw a pair of runes, one in the shape of a crescent moon and the other in the shape of a vertical line with a smaller line branching off the top.
The second page had a brief description of the spell. The two runes represented the Blade rune and the Wind elemental rune. Combining the two allowed the user to cast the Wind Blade spell. A spell that created a crescent shaped blade out of arcane energy, then used wind magic to add speed and a tearing element to the spell. Resolving to practice the spell on the return journey, Eric stood back up, looking at Owin who was gathering debris and twigs from the ground nearby.
Stretching a little, Eric pointed at Wyll’s corpse. “What should we do about your companion? I don’t think we can safely transport his body back to Tonbura.”
“We burn it,” Owin said with a steely glint in his eye. Eric looked at him in surprise.
“Burn it? Are you sure?”
“Totally sure, if we leave him here then he’ll become food for wolves, bears, or even worse, goblins. It could also alert the scouts to our presence. We need to burn the body and get out of here.”
As Eric nodded his understanding, Owin walked over to Wylls’ corpse, dropping the branches and leaves he’d gathered next to the body. Kneeling over his fallen friend, he gently closed Wylls’ e
yes, muttering a few words as he did so. Next he grabbed his sword, which was still lying where he’d dropped it, roughly a meter away from his body. Unhooking the sheath from Wylls’ belt he sheathed the sword and tossed it over to Eric.
“You don’t have a blade, right? Take it,” he instructed before Eric could protest.
Closing his mouth, Eric observed the sword, removing it from the sheath and holding it in front of him.
[You have received Common Iron Shortsword!]
Attack: 6-9
Durability: 43/100
Description: A normal iron shortsword forged by a Novanalba blacksmith for the militia. It bears the insignia of the royal house of Novanalba. The workmanship is good but the balance feels slightly off. It bears some signs of recent use and could use repairing.
Buckling the sheath to his belt, Eric slid the sword back in its sheath, striding over to help Owin to gather sticks and leaves to form a pyre.
As they threw the last twig on top of the pyre they’d created, Owin reached down and grabbed Wylls’ militia badge and his pack.
“Can you light it? My tinder got soaked,” he asked Eric.
Nodding, Eric formed the runes for a flame strike, casting several flame strikes at the pyre. With a slow crackle, the damp twigs and branches began to burn, the flames licking hungrily at the leaves and other kindling they’d found.