The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  He went back to hacking at the Creler’s corpse. After a moment Yvlon tried to get up and go to him. She tried, because she attempted to use her broken arm to lever herself up until she realized what she was doing. Ceria put a hand over her mouth and Pisces frowned.

  “Yvlon, your arm—”

  “Can’t feel it.”

  “It’s still broken!”

  Ceria looked in horror at Yvlon. The other woman gave her a pale smile.

  “I’m fine, Ceria. Once we get back—”

  “I can correct the bones for you and use a healing potion now, if you like.”

  Pisces squatted down by Yvlon’s arm and indicated the gauntlet.

  “We must only remove the gauntlet first. I fear that will be troublesome—”

  “No problem. We can do it. Don’t worry about me; I can’t feel it. Like I said.”

  Yvlon gritted her teeth as Pisces tried to remove the bent armor. Ceria had to turn away when she saw the broken skin and protruding bone that was Yvlon’s arm. There was bent steel mixed in with the bone. Pisces hissed under his breath. Yvlon looked down at her arm with disgust, but again, without pain.

  “Please hold still. I shall—correct the bones and refit them properly. You may wish to look away.”

  Pisces put his hands on Yvlon’s arms and concentrated. The bones began to reshape themselves under her flesh. Both Yvlon and Ceria looked up and away as Pisces spoke.

  “You are fortunate that I am present. Using healing potions to mend broken bones is often a futile or dangerous effort. However, in my case—please bear with the sensations for a moment.”

  “Like I said—”

  “You really can’t feel a thing, can you?”

  Ceria stared at Yvlon. The woman’s face was sweaty, but there was no hint of agony in her eyes. Just…a disturbed look. Yvlon nodded.

  “I can’t feel a thing. I, aha, have a Skill. [Ignore Pain].”

  She twisted her arm as Pisces finished and lifted it. The bones were straight now, whole, despite the metal grafted to them, but the skin—Ceria felt the urge to throw up. Yvlon poured a healing potion on her arm and watched the skin run together like water.

  “I’ve heard of older warriors earning Skills like [Lesser Pain Tolerance] which lets them fight on when wounded…”

  When she felt she could look, Ceria stared at Yvlon and saw the other woman’s twisted smile. Yvlon swung her arm about, testing it, and then shrugged.

  “I didn’t feel my arm break. I only noticed when I couldn’t grip the sword properly.”

  “How?”

  “It’s a Skill I got. It’s nothing to worry about, Ceria. I’m grateful for it, believe me.”

  “Tree shit.”

  “Bullshit, if you will excuse my language.”

  Pisces and Ceria spoke at the same time. They looked at each other, and then at Yvlon.

  “Pig shit. Bird poo. Squirrel feces. Lizard poo. Drake poo. Excuse me. I thought we were listing excrement.”

  Ksmvr came over, covered in Creler goo. He cocked his head at the others as they laughed. Ceria shook her head and then glared at Yvlon.

  “No one gets—[Ignore Pain] just like that. You’re hiding something, Yvlon. Why didn’t you tell us you couldn’t feel your arms?”

  The woman smiled crookedly.

  “Because I was grateful. Do you know how much it hurt the day before I slept…? Right after the dungeon, I mean. I was going to scream, but then I leveled up, gained my Skill…and a new class.”

  “A new class?”

  “[Wounded Warrior].”

  Yvlon grinned at Ceria’s shocked expression. Pisces put a finger to his lips thoughtfully.

  “Intriguing. I had not heard of such a class…I assume that Skill was one of the, ah, rewards for your transition?”

  “The only one I have so far. It’s…I don’t know what to call it. But I could fight. Badly, but I could fight despite my arm breaking.”

  “It’s not right. Yvlon, I’m so—”

  “What do you want me to say, Ceria? I’m a cripple without that Skill. I wouldn’t be able to move my arms—I’d have to cut them off or scream myself to death. And without Pisces, I’d lose them anyways.”

  Yvlon nodded at Pisces. He looked somber.

  “I can repair your arms, but I regret that I cannot do anything about the iron fused with your, ah, flesh, Yvlon. It may be removed, but there is not enough bone to reconstruct your arms with afterward.”

  “And you can’t…add more bone? I’ve never asked before, but…”

  Yvlon nodded subtly at the two undead bears that were standing watch over the burning junior Creler. Ceria’s mouth dropped open. Pisces eyes widened before he shook his head.

  “Alas, no. Bones aren’t that easy to use interchangeably, Yvlon. A bear’s bones would be rejected by a human body. So too would any other bones, should you be curious. It is a…a function of your body that it would only accept your bone as part of ‘you’.”

  “I see. I guess bones are more complex than I thought.”

  The woman laughed shortly. Ceria stared at her. Yvlon quieted after a moment and looked at Pisces.

  “I hate [Necromancers]. I hate the undead.”

  Ceria opened her mouth, and then closed it. Pisces looked surprised, but not insulted. Yvlon sat up, flexing her formerly broken arm. She sat in the cave, the horrible smell of burning Creler in everyone’s nostrils as she spoke, continuing their conversation from the wagon.

  “My family is devoted to championing justice. We have a history of serving as [Knights], defending others. I’ve been raised to hate necromancy since I was a child and I still do. I think it’s unnatural. Any [Necromancer] I meet I will cut down. I would never journey with any kind of spellcaster like that if I had a choice.”

  Pisces bowed his head silently. Yvlon eyed him, looked into Ceria’s disappointed eyes and smiled.

  “That’s why I’ll tolerate what you do. For you and only you.”

  A breath caught in Ceria’s throat and she coughed as smoke made her eyes water. Yvlon pushed herself to her feet. She raised her sword, now clean, and indicated her arms. Metal ran into flesh, twisted, melded with her skin. It was an ugly sight, and haunting. She smiled unhappily.

  “I’ll be watching you, to make sure you’re not misusing your magic. I, Yvlon Byres, a Level 26 [Wounded Warrior].”

  Ceria took a breath. Telling someone your exact level was…it wasn’t the most familiar thing you could do, but it was a show of trust. Among adventurers, it was a sign they were more than acquaintances. Pisces looked into Yvlon’s eyes and then got up too. When he spoke, it was hesitantly.

  “You may not know this, Yvlon, but when a [Mage] transcends into a unique class such as [Necromancer], [Cryomancer], and so on, they become…focused in that specific class. If they pursue other types of magic, they must begin with the [Mage] class again. From Level 1.”

  He stared at her, and then Ceria. He gestured to the rapier at his side.

  “Necromancers lack many direct spells to attack their foes. High level necromancers are different of course, but the strength of death magic lies in minions, spells which sap energy. It is said that necromancy, above other schools of magic, is the mastery of preparation. Yet armies of the undead and servants of this nature are feared. Hated. Despised. Despite what you may think, I wish to live among people without their disdain.”

  Silence. Yvlon looked at him, waiting. Pisces closed his eyes.

  “I have dreamed of being a [Necromancer]. It is my calling. My passion. Yet I love magic of all kinds. I wish to see what it can bring me. I wish to know…I hover on the cusp of power. I am a Level 29 [Necromancer], and a Level 18 [Mage].”

  Level 29. Ceria’s breath caught. She hadn’t known. Pisces stood at the limit agreed by most to be one of the thresholds. At Level 30 he could call himself a Gold-rank adventurer regardless of his gear.

  Pisces nodded to Yvlon. She nodded back. Both looked at Ceria. She realized what she ha
d to do and scrambled to her feet. She nearly fell—she felt sick the moment her head moved. Yvlon and Pisces caught her. She grinned at them weakly.

  “Ceria Springwalker. Level 25 [Cryomancer].”

  They both blinked. Ceria smiled, surpressed the urge to throw up, and spoke.

  “What? I got the class change yesterday. I guess it was a sign I was about to learn [Ice Wall]. I’ve been meaning to tell you all, but what with the Goblin Lord and the Named Adventurers popping up left and right, there was never a good time.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Pisces spoke to Ceria. He squeezed her arm, and she squeezed his with her skeletal hand. The last to rise was Ksmvr.

  “I am Ksmvr, formerly of the Free Antinium. I am a Level 16 [Warrior].”

  He looked at the others. They gaped at him. Ceria burst out first.

  “Level 16? You’re so…weak! How are you only Level 16 when you can fight like…”

  The Antinium looked guilty.

  “I was Level 9 when we first met. The Antinium do not level, except in the case of Individuals. And I did not level much after my creation in the Hive, merely studied my predecessor’s history and assisted my Queen…”

  He looked at the others and seemed to grow smaller. More hesitant. Ceria couldn’t believe it. She’d assumed Ksmvr was Level 20, at least! He fought like he was a veteran similar to any of the [Warriors] she’d met. Yvlon’s face showed the same amazement Ceria felt.

  The Antinium seemed to sense the other’s disbelief. He spoke quietly, suddenly, afraid.

  “Please do not eject me from your group. This is the only place where I have meaning.”

  The other Horns of Hammerad looked at him, shocked. Ksmvr, who hadn’t trembled when being bitten by Crelers, shook like a leaf in front of them. Pisces let go of Ceria to rest a hand on Ksmvr’s shoulder.

  “I doubt either Yvlon or Ceria would eject you from the group, good Ksmvr. I certainly would not, especially since you are the only one who listens to my advice. You are a valued member, and more so perhaps, given your potential to grow in strength.”

  “Yeah, what he said without the fancy words. You’re one of us, Ksmvr.”

  Ceria smiled at Ksmvr, and then fell over. The other Horns of Hammerad stared at Ceria as she lay on the ground and moaned weakly.

  “I think the poison’s getting to her. Damn Crelers are nightmares. We need to get back to Esthelm, or better yet, Liscor at speed. Termin’s gone though. And it’s miles…”

  Yvlon groaned as she stared out into the snow. The Corusdeer soup they’d all eaten was wearing off and it was cold. Pisces muttered to himself.

  “It seems we must carry Springwalker. On a sledge, perhaps? Is it worth the effort of fashioning one?”

  “I could attempt to carry her—”

  As Ksmvr and Pisces debated, Yvlon looked around. She jumped as she saw the two undead bears staring at her. She frowned, looked at Pisces, and then hesitated. She looked back at the bears, and her eyes widened.

  Slowly, she turned to the necromancer and cleared her throat. He looked at her, and Yvlon spoke very cautiously.

  “I might regret saying this, but…Pisces, the Adventurer’s Guild banned you from using any corpses made from people, right? They never said anything about bears.”

  For a moment Pisces stared at Yvlon. Then he grinned. Yvlon smiled and Ceria raised her head.

  “I’m okay! What’s…what’s…?”

  She looked up as Pisces and Ksmvr lashed her to a piece of wood. Yvlon had sliced down a tree with her sword and they were tying it together with some rope from Ksmvr’s pack.

  “What’s…? Huh, Yvlon?”

  The woman smiled down at Ceria. It was Ksmvr who explained.

  “Bears.”

  —-

  Later that day, the guards on the walls of Liscor would see a crude sled being pulled by two skeletal bears approaching through the snow. There would be much deliberation, but as Yvlon pointed out, bears were not people, and thus the city had no reason to object. That they did anyways was perfectly natural, but it marked the start of bear-based transportation for the Horns of Hammerad.

  However, that event was not witnessed by Regrika Blackpaw, who was further in the city proper and did not pay attention to the commotion at the gates. She was walking down one of the streets, nodding to Gnolls and speaking with the ones who approached, the center of attention.

  At her side walked a Drake with dark purple scales, male, holding a staff. He was a Gold-rank adventurer, a [Mage]. The duo had already been invited to the party at Erin’s inn that night and were heading there at their leisure.

  Perhaps it was happenstance that they spotted the young Human woman as she jogged down the street. Perhaps not; Ryoka had just put in an order for a cured ham and other assorted meats to Krshia, and the Gnoll had assured her they would be brought in time for the party. She was on her way back to the Wandering Inn with Ivolethe, chatting, when the Named Adventurer spotted her.

  Regrika recognized Ryoka. Of course she did. And thanks to Olesm, she had a name to put to the face. She reached out and touched the shoulder of the Drake [Mage] who walked beside her.

  “Ikriss.”

  She pointed and the Drake blinked his eyes.

  “That’s the Runner?”

  “Yes. Let’s intercept her.”

  Ryoka Griffin could hardly have missed Regrika Blackpaw heading her way. She was still surprised when the Gnoll called to her in the street and obligingly slowed down. Confused and a bit surprised, she waited for the Gnoll to speak.

  “Hrr. You are Ryoka Griffin, yes? I am Regrika Blackpaw. May I have a moment of your time? I have been wishing to speak with you.”

  The huge Gnoll with black fur was a giant, and she smiled down at Ryoka. The young woman took the Gnoll’s paw and shook it gingerly, catching the Named Adventurer’s smell as she did.

  “With me? Uh, how can I help you?”

  “I am looking for a competent Runner, and I have been directed to you by one Olesm Swifttail as the best runner in the city. That is so, yes?”

  She smelled of slightly damp Gnoll fur and that intrinsically animal smell of Dog and something else. There was a hint of metal in that scent as well. Ryoka blinked up at Regrika Blackpaw.

  “Are you sure you haven’t gotten the wrong person? I’m—a City Runner, not a Courier. And there’s one here. His name is Hawk and he’s way faster than me.”

  “Hrr. That is what I have been told, yes. But the Courier known as Hawk has refused to go near the Goblin Lord’s army, and I am seeking anyone else with the bravery to venture close to it. Please, come and have a drink with me so that we might at least discuss it, yes?”

  Ryoka hesitated.

  “I’m honored, really. But I don’t think I’m the person you’re looking for. I—I’ve had enough of insane runs and risking my life for a while.”

  “Ah, I see. But I hope you would listen to my offer first, then decide. Would you have a drink with me at the very least? I hope you are not too busy to do so.”

  Again, Ryoka hesitated, but turning down an offer from a Named Adventurer struck her as a very rude thing to do. Especially one that Krshia and Brunkr loved so much. She looked around and didn’t see Ivolethe, so she shrugged.

  “Okay. Uh, I know an inn—”

  “There is a bar not far from here. It is closest. I would not want to waste any of your time, yes? Follow me.”

  The Gnoll woman and the Drake set off, taking a rather quick pace. Ryoka was able to walk behind them and they soon went down an alley, presumably a shortcut to the rest of the city, Ryoka supposed. She tried to make conversation as she walked down the deserted path behind the Gnoll [Champion].

  “I don’t want to disappoint you. I really don’t think I’d be willing to risk my life. There’s a party tonight with the Gnolls in Liscor. We could speak then—but I just can’t see myself doing anything as dangerous as scouting the Goblin Lord’s army. I have a…history with him.”


  The Gnoll stopped in the dark alley. She half turned her head and smiled again at Ryoka. Her voice deepened and she cocked her head to one side.

  “Oh? But you were quite happy to deliver a letter to the Necromancer himself a month ago. You ran through a battlefield and through his castle to do it. You trespassed and evaded his creations. You did this, Ryoka Griffin. Or had you forgotten?”

  For a second Ryoka just blinked. Then she froze.

  “The Nec—how do you know that?”

  The Gnoll made no reply. She reached for her paw, and twisted something. A ring on her furry fingers. Ryoka felt something shift.

  The smell in the alleyway changed. Gone was the smell of Regrika Blackpaw. And gone was the shape of her. Another being stepped into place as the form of the Gnoll adventurer vanished. A woman made of bone, a knight of ivory, turned. A perfect, carved face of white bone stared down at Ryoka, and two burning yellow eyes gazed down at her. An undead’s eyes.

  Venitra reached out as Ryoka turned to run. She caught the Human girl by the throat and lifted her up.

  “Hello, Ryoka Griffin. I have been searching long for you.”

  Her lips of bone curved upwards in a smile. She tightened her grip.

  “I trust that this will hurt greatly. And then you will die. You should never have trespassed. Now you will pay the price. You and everyone you love. I promise you that.”

  4.28

  Death. Ryoka felt its hand on her throat. She rose, suspended from the ground by the thick arm made of bone. She looked into two burning yellow flames embedded in the sockets of the undead woman made of bone.

  Venitra.

  She was as perfect as a sculpture, as tall and armored as any knight. And she was smiling.

  No time for thought. No time to wonder how or why Venitra was able to pretend to be the Named Adventurer known as Regrika Blackpaw. Ryoka kicked at Venitra’s face as hard as she could.

  Her foot connected. It felt as though Ryoka had kicked a rock. Venitra didn’t budge an inch. Nor did her grip waver.

  “You will not escape me this time, Ryoka Griffin.”

  She could barely breathe. Ryoka’s hands scrabbled at her belt pouch. She had to use—where was Ivolethe? Had to—