Ethria- the Pioneer

by Aaron Holloway

  Why am I doing this? I asked myself as I ran. Because they’re clumped up stupid! Another part of my mind responded. Perfect for a fireball! The first, doubting side of me, paused for a moment. But they have archers, you moron! The first side shot back.

  Just as the more pessimistic side of myself had predicted, the goblin overseer, busy pulling back his whip to strike the still squabbling duo of goblins, saw me and began shouting orders. “Left squad, bows! Kill the human!” Followed by a harsh crack against goblin backs. The squad, nearly five of the creatures, broke off a few feet from the rest and strung their bows quickly, as I kept running right at them. A second later, arrow shafts loosed.

  I did something I hadn’t done before, but I had read about in some of the books back at Lo’sar that now where in Ailsa’s magic dimensional pocket. I held out my hand and pooled mana into it, then I compressed it with my will into a flat disk, hardening it as best I could and lifted the disk along with my hand in front of me. I minimized the spell description and congratulations screen with a thought. Being distracted now would be bad. Three of the arrows bounced harmlessly off stones behind or in front of me, the other two came right at me.

  The first struck the shield and was easily deflected away, and probably wouldn’t have hit me anyway. The second hit my shield on its left side, and would have hit me in the shoulder had the shield not absorbed the damage. Though it did something strange then, the mana bent out of shape and stayed that way as if it were a bent piece of metal.I’m going to have to experiment with this, I thought. But not right now.

  I looked through my now bent but nearly translucent shield and saw the goblins raising their bows for another volley. I stopped in my tracks, bent low, and tried to get every inch of me behind that shield, as another five goblins had joined the firing squad. A few seconds later the arrows rained down, about five feet in front of me, they undershot correcting for me running at them, but not for when I stopped.

  I stood then, raised my staff, and let loose with the fireball I had stored there. As the ball of death leaped at the body of the main force, I turned my attention to the two squads who would possibly escape its wrath and fired mana bolt after mana bolt as I hid behind my shield.

  The fire exploded directly above the hoards heads, engulfing them a torrent of liquid fire that sprayed in every direction by the swirling mana of the spell. Nearly all of them were hit in some way by the napalm-like substance, but the center mass of the group, nearly thirty goblins were engulfed in it completely, dead within seconds. The others all broke and ran, or laid down and cried piteously as they batted at the fire uselessly. A few of the more enterprising and intelligent specimens took off their leather jerkins, or thick cloth coverings they wore as protection as they caught fire, and it actually worked, for two of them.

  I tried to ignore the screaming, crying, and flailing of the goblin force, trying to focus as I cast force bolt, let it cool down, and then cast again in a rhythmic dance of death with the archers who tried to flake me. These ones are properly trained, it was probably why the overseer chose them to come after me, I thought as I moved my shield in front of another arrow as I charged a force bolt in my hand. The shaft shattered against my shield, and sent a shiver up my arm and down my spine, it felt like getting hit by a two by four in the back, but it was better than death. Though not by much.

  I unleashed the force bolt into the goblins face, turned and charged the goblin on the furthest left of me and who had been sneaking around to my rear as I dealt with his friend. I struck at him with a hastily drawn Sparks and was blocked by a quickly raised short sword with a large guard on the hilt meant for just such a maneuver. The goblin spun his wrist in a way that reminded me of what Tol’geth and tried to teach me earlier that morning, and my sword went flying away from me.

  “You attacked Goblin Archer Scout with Sparks. Attack failed, Goblin Archer Scout activated skill, Parry. Status Effect: You are disarmed of the offending weapon.”

  Shit ! The goblin archer smiled wickedly, revealing row after row of razor-sharp teeth, and drove the dagger into my belly. “AAhgh!” I screamed, as the goblin withdrew the blade, and stabbed again, This time into my shoulder as I buckled to the ground. I felt a third stab into the left side of my unprotected back as I crumpled completely into the fetal position, desperately trying to protect myself. I ignored the notification windows that winked at me, minimized in the bottom of my vision, as I tried to block out the pain.

  My shield blocked the fourth stab as the puke green goblin tried to gut me again. The goblin was startled for a second, but the creature wised up to what was happening. Grabbing the shield he pulled it and my arm away from my body and pulled his other hand back for a fifth stab.

  I smiled then, weakly, as I unleashed the force bolt I had held in that hand, and obliterated the bastards face in a spray of gore at point-blank range. Never engage like that again, I chided myself as I cast Cure Light Wounds.

  I was able to get the healing spell off three times before the remaining handful of goblins got up the courage to attack. I didn’t blame them, and neither should you. I was the boogeyman who had just obliterated their buddies with fire from heaven, and who had just blown off one of their friend's heads with a word and a hand gesture.

  Once I learned a spell, and had it clearly in my mind and understood how it worked and how the mana could be easily manipulated, all I had to do was say, think, or do the keyword phrase or gesture I created as a shortcut to that given spell. This was all part of the magic inherent in the characteristics sheets and interface that every person on Ethria had. They were essentially a magical shortcut, operating a lot like having bound keys on a keyboard, each one designated for your RPG characters various skills or abilities.

  Of course, that was all old school RPG’s. In modern virtual reality RPG’s we did the same thing as here on Ethria, designating certain words, phrases, gestures, or combinations of them to signify to the game that we wanted to use the given ability or spellbound to that gesture or phrase.

  It was one of the few things that still made me skeptical of the reality of this world from time to time, though no game has ever felt like this! I thought as I held in my stomach and cast Cure Light Wounds on it for the last time gritting my teeth in agony. To my great relief, the wound finished closing. I barely had enough time to raise my shield to block a downward swung short sword from the bravest of the handful of remaining goblins.

  I threw the creature back, shoving it with my shield and my superior weight. I unleashed a normal Force Bolt at it as I struggled, leaning on my staff to stand. The brave goblin went prone, and as It struggled to get up, I brought my staff down on its head, cracking its skull against the stones.

  I looked around me and found that only four of the puke green creatures remained, while another handful fled into the town in panic. One of the creatures loosed its final arrow at me, it simply rebounded off my shield uselessly. I loosed a Force Bolt at the goblin and it crumpled to the ground. The other three looked at each other, and then broke and ran following their less trained brothers in arms in the route.

  I sighed as I let loose one last force bolt, killing another, just to make sure I kept them on the run. And to pick a bit more experience, that's always helpful. I turned away from the running goblins, and towards those still assaulting the Manor. I looked at my cooldowns. Ooooh, right. I almost forgot.

  Chuckling at what I had in mind, I patiently walked towards the nearly oblivious goblins desperately throwing themselves at the windows and doors of the manor. As I walked, I thought about how to best capitalize on what I was about to do.

  I looked up and found myself about twenty feet behind the enemy lines, perfect, I thought. And I began to cast. I poured my anger, my fear, my frustration, and my concern for my friends into the spell. I took longer than necessary shaping the spell, but It was something I needed to do if I didn’t want to damage the Manor itself.

  An arrow shot past my ear, almost knocking me out of the s
pell focus. I looked up, holding the mana in place while I did, and saw that the shaft, now sticking out of the ground, was not a twisted and half-formed thing like most goblins had. That’s one of the arrows from the Manor! I thought. They’re shooting at me!

  I raised my shield and mentally attached it to my right shoulder, elongating it to the ground as I crouched behind. More arrows from the human archers ricocheted off my shield, denting it, twisting it as if it were soft bronze, but I didn’t let that bother me. I returned my attention back to my spell.

  As my shield grew smaller, I worked desperately trying to ensure I would not hurt the men and women inside. Lord whatever his name is, is going to owe me big time after this! I thought tersely as another volley from the human archers, now firing in unison for greater effect, landed home. My shield barely held that time, I thought and I realized I was out of time.

  I stood, raised my staff with both hands, having still not yet retrieved Sparks, and yelled in the bitter goblin tongue with everything in me “Flee! Flee for your lives! For doom is upon you!” It was a mix of two of the most iconic scenes in sword and sorcery fantasy, and I like a bit of theater now and then. Who doesn’t?

  The fireball, more like fire triangle, sprang from my outstretched staff that I cast it through, and smashed into the enemy line. I could hear the humans inside all calling for people to “Brace!” and “Heads down!” Dang, it, I was hoping for an audience, I thought sadly as they all withdrew behind their walls.

  When the fire triangle reached the wall of the Manor it firmly stuck to it just above the large double doors leading inside, being firmly barred to entry. The goblins, who had just been pushed aside by the hand-sized things coming, looked at it quizzically, a few of them even laughed as it slowly began to burn a hole in the wall. Then, their humor and cheers of glee were silenced as massive walls of aerosolized fire lashed out from the other two sides, burning and consuming their flesh.

  “Congratulations, you have learned a new spell. Fire Trap 1. Fire Trap 1 creates a wall of fire upon activation, that damages all within for 1d10+fire magic skill level damage per second. Trap continues to burn for 10+fire magic skill level seconds. The trap produced can be attached to a wall and set to go off due to proximity. This will deal the wall ½ of the fire mages skill score in fire magic, durability damage per minute. Stone is immune to this traps negative effects. Note: Fire continues to burn until either extinguished, or there is no fuel left.”

  Yes, my spell was damaging the wall, but it was a slow burn and of little consequence compared to the conflagration engulfing row after row of feral blood lustful goblins. I had aimed for the very center of the assault, where my spell would have the most positive effect. But it did not cover the entire battlefield or every possible avenue for entrance into the Manor.

  Even as their brothers in the center burned and cried out in pain and agony, begging for swifter deaths then what they were gifted, the flanks of the assault, though temporarily stunned into inaction along with the human forces, redoubled their efforts before the defenders could fully recover. They were spurred on by pitiless taskmasters, with brutal whips, and I came to find out as a force bolt bounced off my shield and smacked me in the face, another shaman.

  “You have been struck by Unknown Shaman for 7 damage, damage reduced from 38 due to decreased velocity, from ricochet.”

  A much more powerful shaman. I winced as I felt at my broken nose. “Oh cooome Ooon!” I tried to say, though the blood and forcefully deviated septum didn’t help matters. “Yoooouve Gotta beee kiddin mee!” I breathed deeply, and yanked my nose straight with a sickening crunching noise, before casting Cure Light wounds on myself. My vision went black and I nearly fell to the ground in pain, but once I cast the spell, I quickly regained my vision and sense.

  I hope that will be enough , I thought as I wiped the blood from my eyes, and cast around me looking for my opponent. I’m so freaking lucky that spell as such a short cool down, or I’d be screwed! There you are you little green goblin! You're dead! I let out a force bolt of my own, this one augmented with the armor-piercing drill option I had invented, but I cooked it for the full time, providing it just as much stopping power as any of my other shots.

  The bolt went through two goblins before striking against the shaman's shield as he ran away, attempting to hide in the horde of his smaller cousins. He must have seen what I did to the other guy and doesn't want to do a straight confrontation. Fine by me. I waited for the cool down, standing in the dregs of the flames which still licked at the ground lazily, and let out another drilling arrow.

  This time the bolt struck his shield directly, but still didn’t seem to even phase the shaman or his green and gold flaring shield as he moved.He’s going inside the Manor, I realized. There must be a breach in the defenses!

  Realizing I would easily be exhausted by the time I reached him if I had to kill all the goblins between us, I ran to the front double doors of the Manor. They were bounded in steel and were successfully withstanding the flickering and dying flames. They sported scorch marks, but little else.

  I pounded on the doors “Let me in! I’m here to help you morons!” I could hear whispers on the other side and rolled my eyes. I walked over to the large, though narrow, windowsill that use to be filled with glittering multi-colored stain glass, but now was boarded up, the glass removed or shattered, I didn’t know which.

  “Stand back from the window!” I shouted at those inside, and I heard a shuffling response. “I mean it, I don’t want to kill you,” I said as I lifted my staff, purely for the melodrama of it, I could have just thought the command. I let out a Hammering Force Bolt. The front of the bolt was shaped exactly as the name suggests, flat and broad, it was intended to transfer as much blunt force as possible to whatever object it struck.

  The wood splintered and shot back with the force of a hurricane, and after the flying pieces of wood all settled, I gently stepped inside. I brushed off my pants and leather jerkin and shirt from the dust the attack had produced, and looked around. There where civilians everywhere to both sides of the window wielding knives, hammers, anything really they could get their hands on.

  Between them and me were the spear and tower shield-wielding knights, or guards, or whatever they were, with the large trout of Lord Traser painted on the front. These men looked stern and ready to stab me If I did anything that looked even mildly threatening.

  They didn’t of course, I mean, what kind of hostile burns nearly half his own force, gives warnings about blowing things up, and then politely asks “Could I get directions to the kitchens? The shaman that leads these goblins found its way there, and I would very much like to have a word with him.” I pointed to my nose and the blood barely drying on my face. “We have things to discuss.”

  “Wizard?” Came a frail, weak voice over the crackling of the flames. “Is that you Rayid?” It was a familiar voice, one that I had expected to find eventually.

  “Salina?” I asked confused. “Is the elven ambassador here?” I asked one of the large men that looked slightly larger and more imposing than the others. He, in turn looked towards a smaller man with a fancier and slightly longer cape. Of course, size and strength aren’t always the prerequisites for leadership dummy , I chided myself as I looked at the man with the fancy cape. I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity, before realizing that the man was glaring at me.

  Oops, I think he thinks my eye roll was for him . Thankfully before I could say something that would make the situation even more pedantic and bothersome, Salina, aided by one of the elven rangers, pushed through the thin guard from my left. She looked gaunt, exhausted. As if she had been awake for nearly a week with no sleep and little food or water. Blood not her own, mixed with mud ash and soot clung to her robe and face.

  “Are you, are you okay?” I asked taken aback at the sight.

  ‘I am fine…” She began before wincing and holding her head in pain.

  “What is wrong?” I demanded of the ranger at her
side. He was one of the young elves I knew from the drum circle, handsome as he was skilled with a bow, but he couldn’t hold a vocal tune to save his life, that's why he had been placed with the drums and not the choir.

  The boy's voice, his name escaped me, was a light tenor “She has been keeping the goblins from receiving reinforcements through their portal crystals. The spatial anchoring spell drains her, she has been holding it for nearly two hours now. Her mana wains.” I reached out to touched her shoulder to give her a few hundred mana from my pool to help. Before my hand touched her Salina’s hand gripped mine, her expression one of pain.

  “Your few thousand mana would do nothing.” She gritted out between her teeth. “Agh!” She cried before sweet relief crossed her face. She sighed and leaned into the ranger, nearly spent. “They are done trying, for now. At first, there were two shamans, they took turns testing me by attempting to use their infernal crystals whenever they were filled with mana. But, they have both gone silent. One was killed here by the archer's commander. The other though, I suppose I have you to thank for that?” I nodded.

  “Good, well. There is a new shaman, one more powerful than the others, he tests my wards like few have done in the past thousand years. Constantly beating against them, the little beast does not know who he vexes!” She said as she attempted to stand to her full height, but she swayed and the ranger caught her, propping her up and steadying Salina on her feet.

  The ranger looked at me and explained “The magic takes its toll not just physically but mentally as well. While fire magic makes one more passionate, to the point of madness and obsession, and healing magic makes one vulnerable and emotionally sensitive, to the point of trauma if abused, if overused spatial magic makes one think they are capable of anything. That they have no limits.” Salina smacked him in the face, hard. But to his credit, the young elf ranger stoically made no remark and gave no reaction.