by Aaron Oster
The Feline snorted out a laugh as he watched both frog and barstool go down in a tangle of limbs, Hopps hurling insults at the inanimate object about its parentage.
“He’s quite funny, that one,” he said, turning back to Talia. “I can see why Arthur is so fond of him.”
Talia, who’d been inching ever closer to the Feline to launch a surprise attack, froze at the mention of Arthur’s name. It took her fuzzy mind a few moments to piece together what he was implying, which made no sense.
“How do you know Arthur?” she demanded.
The Feline gestured to the stool adjacent from his.
“Sit. I have much to tell you and not a whole lot of time in which to do it.”
32
Arthur looked up as the door to his small cell clanged open.
They’d moved him to a smaller, single-person cell the day before last. He’d been isolated here, alone, awaiting his death at the paws of the arena Champion.
He’d had nothing but time to think in the last two days, and in that time, he’d decided that he wasn’t going to just lie down and take it. These two days of isolation had actually been good for him. In not having to witness all those deaths, he’d had time to think and find the ones who were really responsible for their deaths: the Felines.
He also remembered another thing, something which he’d seemed to have forgotten through the endless death and carnage. This world was based on a game. Sure, this world was very real, too real to be a game. But it was still based on one. And games followed a few very simple rules. One of which was that there were no impossible quests.
Were there difficult quests? Yes. Ones that could kill someone over and over until they figured it out? Also, yes. But never an impossible one.
The only problem he had was that in this place, there were no infinite lives. There was no respawn after death, so he’d have to figure this out on the first go-around.
Another thing he noticed was that this quest was the last one in the chain, which meant that after this, for better or worse, he’d be leaving the arena.
He’d been expecting guests at some point today, mainly the guards who were going to drag him into the pits for his execution. But when the Baron strode in, followed by Captain Boris and half a dozen guards, he was taken by surprise.
The guards immediately moved to shackle his hands and feet, binding him to steel loops riveted into the walls.
Arthur kept his eyes on the Baron the whole time as another set of guards walked in, carrying a plush chair. As soon as they’d set it down, they left, followed out a moment later by the guards who’d shackled him so tightly he could barely move.
The Baron seated himself, while Boris remained standing, taking up a position behind and to the right of his liege lord. Arthur tried to inspect the Baron, but it failed, just as with The Rat. He still had no idea why it worked on some and not on others, but if he survived this quest, he would have to find out.
Arthur expected the Baron to start talking, but he waited, folding his hands in his lap and examining Arthur with a keen gaze. Arthur merely scowled back. This was the person responsible for all his torment over the past two weeks. He was the one who’d told the guards to make him watch as group after group of defenseless prisoners were killed. He’d been the one who’d ordered the attack on Hopps’s village, and he was the reason Chuck was dead.
“It seems that you don’t like me much,” the Baron said, a small smirk playing around the corners of his lips. “Then again, were I in your position, I don’t suppose I’d like me very much either.”
He paused, waiting to see if Arthur would respond. When he didn’t, the Baron shrugged and continued.
“You’ve caused me a great deal of grief, you know. Prisoners are supposed to die during their first match, cowering and begging for their pitiful lives. Yet, you…You had the nerve to stand up for yourself, killing three Felines in front of a massive crowd.
Do you have any idea how much money it cost me to keep that from going public? How many bribes and threats I had to make to ensure the rest of the Feline quarter and the outskirts, where the trash live, wouldn’t find out?”
The Baron leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers, his brilliant, amber eyes boring into his.
“It happens from time to time, so I wouldn’t have been upset, had it not been for the way you killed them. A Feline hasn’t been so brutally killed in the pits since the reign of the last King, and for good reason. Our people believe themselves superior to the rest of the Races and, therefore, impossible to be bested by one such as you.”
“Must have really twisted your pretty little whiskers when I painted the arena floors with their brains,” Arthur said, unable to resist the jab.
The Baron didn’t become upset, contrary to his beliefs. He even smiled, enlarged canines showing further signs of his Feline nature.
“Yes. It was quite…unfortunate what happened to those Felines. Fortunately, it recently came to light that the three of them weren’t, in fact, full-blooded Felines. Merely half breeds, the offspring of humans and proud ani-human Felines. The guilty parties themselves confessed their sins before they were put to death in the palace courtyard.”
Arthur felt his lip curl in disgust. It seemed the Felines were even more corrupt than he’d first thought.
“Since you so clearly wanted to save the poor souls who’d been condemned to die, I decided that a suitable punishment for your crimes would be to watch a few deaths. All the while, removing the events of your fight from the minds of the public. But then, when it came time for you to die, you still would not cooperate.
“Luckily, I had a backup plan in place, just in case, and had the fight stopped before too much harm could come. I used the opportunity to make a spectacle of your death. You see, despite all my best efforts, the results of the fight somehow leaked.”
The Baron leaned forward here, his eyes narrowing, and his pleasant expression vanishing in an instant.
“There have been riots in the lower sectors, and civil unrest has begun to take hold. I’ve had to make seven public executions in the last two days alone and had to dispatch soldiers to break up sixteen different riots, both in and out of the Feline sector. My citizens no longer feel safe in their own homes, fearing that the other Races will be coming for them next.
“After all, if a lone prisoner can kill three Felines and stand up a Leopard on his own, what chance do they stand?”
“I thought you took care of that,” Arthur replied. “Didn’t you have them discredited as Felines?”
“Oh, but that’s just it, isn’t it?” Clive said, leaning in once more. “There’s only so much you can do to sway public opinion. And once a box has been opened, there’s no closing it.”
Arthur let out a snort and rolled his eyes.
“You’ve already sentenced me to death by fighting someone I probably can’t beat, and you’re making me do it alone. That should solve all your problems, shouldn’t it? Feline kills the prisoner, thereby proving that they are superior. Your citizens feel safe, and the rioting calms down. So, tell me, Clive, what is it you want with me?”
The Baron’s lips twitched, and Boris’ claws extended with an audible snick as his face contorted in rage at his disrespect. But Arthur didn’t care. They wouldn’t kill him here. They couldn’t really, if what the Baron had said was true. What he wanted to know was who had spread the word. Who’d leaked the information on the fight? It couldn’t have been a Feline, as they’d have nothing to gain.
“You seem to be quite perceptive, if not severely lacking in respect for your betters. But you cut right to the heart of the matter. So, I’ll give you one chance. Tell me who leaked the information.”
It seemed the Baron wanted to know as well.
“Even if I knew, why would I tell you?” Arthur replied, gratified to see the Baron’s mask cracking.
“Because,” Clive said, his grip tightening on the arms of his chair. “It would be in your best interest to do so.”
Arthur laughed at that, watching the Baron’s face go from tan to dark red.
“Bitch, please! There’s nothing you can do to me, and you know it.”
The reaction was unlike anything Arthur could have expected, though. The Baron shot to his feet, red light blazing around his body and the temperature in the room noticeably rising along with him. His hair billowed in an invisible breeze, and his eyes glowed as the light seemed to be leeched from the room.
“Did you just compare me to a…a Canine?! How dare you?!”
The room shook with the force of his fury, and Arthur became worried that he’d gone too far. He’d meant to insult the Baron, but never in a million years could he have known he’d get this kind of reaction. Then again, the Baron was a Feline, a mortal enemy of the Canine Race, so he probably could have chosen his words more wisely. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been insulted by the literal meaning of the word, rather than the connotation.
“Sir, please calm yourself!” Boris said, laying a hand on the Baron’s shoulder as he took a threatening step forward. “Can’t you see? This is what he wants! He wants you to kill him here, and now, so he doesn’t have to face Raucus in the pits!”
That wasn’t what he wanted at all. He wanted very much to stay among the living and insulting the Baron to the point where he was willing to kill him outright wasn’t something he wanted to do. But, for the sake of showmanship, and because he knew reverse psychology was a thing, Arthur played up Boris’s assumption.
“Oh, I’m not scared to face some little bitch in the pits. But I bet you would be, wouldn’t you, kitty?”
Arthur plastered his most insulting grin onto his face, leering up at the raging Feline. And, just as he suspected, the Baron visibly calmed, the red light vanishing and his muscles unclenching.
His teeth were still borne, however, and his eyes blazed with barely suppressed fury.
“Don’t think you’ll get out of your punishment so easily, filth! But I cannot allow something like this to slide without punishment. Since you seem to value your own life so little, I’ve got something else in mind.
“We’ve been watching you closely over the last few weeks, and it seems that there’s someone here you’ve grown to like. They’ve recently fallen out of favor, so they will be joining you in your fight against Raucus. This way, it’ll be long enough to be entertaining, while making our Champion look even better!”
Arthur felt his heart skip a beat when he heard that. There was only one person the Baron could be talking about: White. He knew that the scarred Feline was disliked, but he had no idea why or what he could have done to earn the Baron’s ire.
“In case you’re wondering,” Clive said as he turned to leave, “he’s done nothing to insult or offend me. I’m simply sentencing him to die because I can.”
His lips finally turned up in a smile, his enlarged canines showing through.
“And when he dies, you’ll know that it was your fault. If you’d just told me what I wanted to know, he could have lived. I’ll see you in an hour, trash.”
Arthur gritted his teeth against the rage boiling up inside as the Baron left, followed closely by Captain Boris. They didn’t unchain him, leaving him bolted to the wall as the door slammed shut behind them, leaving alone once again.
His mind was moving a mile a minute, parsing out all the new information. It appeared he wouldn’t be facing the Champion alone, which gave him a much better chance of success. Then again, the Baron hadn’t seemed overly worried about Raucus losing, which meant that he had to be even higher leveled than White, so at least level 23, perhaps even 24 or 25.
That meant that even at his best, he’d probably have a very hard time even damaging someone like that, especially if he was wearing armor. But with White taking the brunt of his attacks, perhaps he would have a chance.
Arthur pulled up his status, then pulled up his Class options. He hadn’t even looked at it since reaching level 15, but now that he had some real motivation, he looked at his options.
Class Options
Tier 1: Thief, Tank, Fighter
Tier 2: Rogue, Boxer, Kicker, Poisoner
Tier 3: Poisonmaster, Daggermaster, Stealthmaster, Monk
Arthur already knew what the first two Tiers had in store, but he was excited to see that the third Tier held a familiar-looking Class. If he wasn’t mistaken, Poisonmaster was the Class Hopps’s mother had. He quickly opened the Third Tier Classes to see what sort of bonuses they offered.
Poisonmaster (T3)
The Poisonmaster relies heavily on toxins and poisons to disable enemies.
Bonuses: +2 Intelligence & Wisdom Per level, +20% Increased Damage with poisons
Detriments: -50% to Constitution & Charisma growth
Requirement Met: Tier 2 Poison-related Racial Bonus
Daggermaster (T3)
The Daggermaster relies heavily on small blades and/or knives and fast movement.
Bonuses: +2 Agility & Endurance Per level, +50% Affinity increase with small blades
Detriments: -50% to Constitution & Intelligence growth
Requirement Met: Level 11 Dagger-related skill
Stealthmaster (T3)
The Stealthmaster skulks in the shadows, striking when victims least expect.
Bonuses: +3 Agility Per level, +75% Affinity increase with Stealth-related skills
Detriments: -75% to Constitution & -25% to Charisma growth
Requirement Met: Level 11 Sensory-related skill
Monk (T3)
The Monk blends unarmed combat with swift weapon strikes to disable foes.
Bonuses: +1 Agility, +1 Endurance, +1 Strength Per level, +10% Total affinity increase
Detriments: -25% to Constitution, Intelligence & Wisdom growth
Requirement Met: Level 11 Unarmed Combat-related skill
Arthur looked over his options carefully, noting the massive difference between Tier 2 and Tier 3 Classes. He immediately dismissed Poisonmaster. Even though it sounded really cool, it ultimately didn’t line up with the character he was building. But that still left the other three. Daggermaster would vastly improve on his knife fighting, as well as improve his affinity by half.
Affinity, if he remembered correctly, meant how well you handled any specific skill. While it didn’t increase overall damage, it would ensure that the damage output was always at the higher end of the spectrum.
For example: if a dagger could do between 15 - 20 damage, his 50% increase would give him a much higher chance of dealing closer to the 20 mark than the 15.
He also had to consider the detriments to choosing the Class. A 50% decrease would mean that if he wanted to increase an attribute, he’d have to work half again as hard for the same result. And, when putting in points to manually raise an attribute, he’d have to pay 1.5 points instead of 1.
It was a tradeoff that was well worth it, but it still was something worth considering before making a decision.
Arthur wracked his brain as he ran over his three options, torn between all three. Each had its merits, but none of them were exactly what he was looking for. Hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake, Arthur closed his Class options, deciding to check again at level 18. He knew he was taking a risk, but if he made it past this fight, he’d be grateful.
Plus, if he saw things going too badly during the fight, he could always accept one of the Classes then.
Once his Class options closed, Arthur assigned his points from reaching level 15, bumping his Agility up to 50, and dropping an extra point into Constitution. He knew that it probably wouldn’t make a difference, but having extra health never hurt anyone. He then looked over his status before closing it.
Character Status
Name: Arthur
Race: Humanoid - Poison Frog
Class: None
Level: 15
XP: 130/15,000
AP: 0
Survivability
HP: 170/170
MP: 100/100
STA: 370/370
Armor Rating: 0
Attributes
Strength - 5
Constitution - 17 (+1)
Endurance - 37
Agility - 50 (+4)
Intelligence - 10
Wisdom - 10
Charisma - 12
Luck - 10
Skills
6/8
Unarmed Frog-Bat: Level 12
Perception: Level 15
Knife Wielding: Level 12
Acrobatics: Level 10
Critical Strike: Level 10
Sixth Sense (A): Level 7
Abilities
5/8
Tae-Frog-Do: Level 12
Frog Slicer: Level 6
Parry: Level 1
Frog-Sassinate: Level 6
Drilling Blows: Level 7
Racial Bonus
Poison Touch: Tier 2
Spring: Tier 1
His Spring was right at the edge of moving up. Just two more uses would see him reach Tier 2 with the Bonus. He’d just have to hope it would give him an edge during the fight.
He let out a long sigh, tilting his head up to look at the stony ceiling of his small cell. Whatever happened out there, he just hoped that Hopps and Talia had gotten away. The Baron hadn’t mentioned either of them, which meant that they were most likely safe. He couldn’t help but worry though. With the rioting going on in the city, anything could happen.
Talia was resilient, however, and Hopps was smarter than most gave him credit for. He would just have to trust that they could handle themselves, wherever they might be.
33
“Wakey, wakey, frog filth! It’s time to die!”
Arthur cringed at the horrible dialogue as the door to his cell slammed open.
Seriously? Couldn’t these guards come up with a better insult?
“Oh no! Please, anything but that,” he said, making sure to lace his voice with as much sarcasm as he could possibly muster.
It seemed, however, that the guards didn’t know what sarcasm was, since they shared a look of glee.