Already I started to feel woozy, and my concentration lapsed so that my spell failed. The leader and other bandit were slowed for the moment, but the other two were plenty mobile. Farelle, however, had whipped out her bow, and shot two rapid arrows impossibly fast at the bandit leaping towards her. One barely lodged in his leather breastplate, but the second caught him with a crit in the throat. He went down to his knees, choking on his own blood.
Meanwhile, I sunk to my own knees. My health bar had a sickly green cast now, and was below 80. That meant I still had over 75% of my health, so I didn't understand how I could be so disoriented. Then I saw the second notification, what looked like a man clutching his head. I hoped the condition wouldn't last long, as it seemed to disrupt my ability to cast spells.
The bandit leader and other slowed bandit were shaking off the frost. As soon as they did, they started charging towards me with twin roars. I shook off the buzz in my head and stood to face them.
Then I thought better of it and kept running.
I heard them still behind me, taunting me. “Keeping going, chicken legs! We’ll spit you for dinner yet!” They would too, if we kept up this race. My stamina was down to 75%, and I knew they had more than me. Plus the poison was still chipping away at my health, and the exertion seemed to make it worse. I was down to 70 now.
But just as I thought my heart would give out and my meter was about bottomed out, I saw the Disorientation icon disappear, and my head cleared. I laughed in relief and, reaching a clearing, whirled to face them.
Seeing me stopped, they charged with a collective roar. I had enough mana for a third Icy Plume, and cast it when they were only a dozen feet away. They’d been sprinting so fast that the lackey slipped and sprawled on his face, bringing another grim smile to my face. But the bandit leader looked at me with murderous rage, and kept plowing forward steadily. Even with the 50% slow, he was coming too quickly.
It was two on one, and I was sorely outmatched. I needed to even the playing field.
With the last of my mana, I let go of Icy Plume and cast Invigorate on the frustrated bandit rising from on the ground. I saw the change instantaneously as he rose from the ground, eyes wide with rage. But his eyes weren't looking at me. My bet that the lackeys weren’t all so happy to be under their ruthless leader looked like it would pay off.
The bandit leader didn't even see him coming as his lackey tackled him to the ground, his knife finding his side. The leader roared in pain and rage and shook off the other man before slamming an elbow in his face. The stab through the ribs had to hurt, and he was definitely bleeding, but I knew he wasn't over yet.
My mana gone, my stamina slowly creeping back up, and my health eroding under the poison, I knew I had to think fast. The leader was rising, and though he had to shove off the enraged bandit once more, then whack him over the head with his hammer shaft, he was coming soon. I channeled Minor Healing in the precious seconds I had, and was pleased to see my health bump up to just over 90. Then I gripped my sword and dagger and charged the bandit leader.
He looked surprised, but grinned a moment later. Hefting his hammer, he took a swing as I came close, but I saw it coming and easily dodged under it. I didn’t, however, see the butt of it pivot into my back. The bandit leader guffawed as I went sprawling at his feet. Desperate, I lashed out with my sword at his legs, and was greeted with a cry of pain. The leader fell to the ground, both of his Achilles tendons severed.
Rolling out of the way, it was a simple matter to avoid the man's flailing hammer as he moved about on his knees. “I'll kill you!” He roared at me. “I'll fucking kill you!”
I laughed in his face. “Let's see how much you want to kill me after this.” Focusing, I called up my channel Siphon Essence, and felt the thrum of power build in me. It was different than casting spells; somehow, channels felt deeper, like they came from the world around rather than inside me. The Everlands’ gods themselves worked through me as I channeled.
There was no sign of anything happening until the bandit leader stiffened and went rigid. His eyes went wide. His nostrils flared. His jaw, seemingly against his will, fell open. And from it came a violet strand of something that looked like oily mist. It peeled away from its owner and lazily wandered through the air to me. I grew a little nervous as it approached, but didn't resist as it pressed against my armor, then to my skin, then, with a feeling like cold fish slipping against me, it pressed into me. My spirit meter, spent from my healing channel before as well, filled back up to ⅔ full.
Time to top off while I had the chance.
“It's your lucky day,” I said, grinning at the bandit. As the brute moaned in understanding, I channeled again.
After I drained the bandit leader of spirit — and upped my affinity to Black faith to level 2, I was pleased to see — I finished him off and set to the grisly task of looting his body. The flat-screen RPGs before the Everlands never showed just how gross of task it is, when your hands and everything on the bandit are covered with blood and who knows what else.
When I stood, satisfied I'd gotten everything, I noticed I had a notification waiting for me. I could see it wasn't a level up, which I’d been hoping for after defeating an enemy 5 levels above me, but I was still curious as I opened it.
You've learned a new combat skill: Hamstring! Cripple enemies with a blow to their heel.
Combat skills become easier to execute as they are leveled up and increase in effectiveness.
Current: Lvl 1, -50% movement, cause condition Minor Bleeding.
Combat skills like Hamstring promised to be useful. I wondered how often I’d acquire new ones randomly.
My task done, I made my way back to Farelle and my camp. Halfway there, I startled when the Wilder appeared from around a trunk. “Jesus,” I said, sheathing my sword. “I almost took off your head.”
“Doubt it,” the Satyr said casually. “Though if you're still walking, you must have cut that brute down to size. Or did you outrun him?”
“Ye of little faith,” I said. “I learned how to hamstring. Looks like that's not bad for taking down big guys.”
“Hamstring, huh?” She studied me. “You look like you could use some more training in combat. Maybe for a few extra coins on the side, I'll show you a thing or two.”
As soon as she finished speaking, a prompt popped up:
You've been offered a new training quest: Welcome to the Wild(er)! Unlike ordinary quests, training quests involve ongoing efforts to improve particular skills or affinities, or to learn new skills or affinities. In addition, it can result in strengthened relationships and alignment.
Welcome to the Wild(er)! (Lvl 5) - Learn new combat skills with the Wilder Farelle when you pay her fees. “Sure, we’re friends, but a girl’s gotta eat!”
I feigned disinterest. “Oh, I don't know… I’m not sure what you could teach me.”
She stared at me. “Are you kidding me? You were flailing around like a drunken puppy when those bandits arrived.”
“If I remember correctly, I'm the one who took down the bandit leader.” I didn’t mention that I wasn’t the one who drank all the time as well.
“Only because you ran away and split up with your traveling companion — which, by the way, is always a terrible idea, and I'd suggest you don't do it again.”
I still held out. “How about we work on something each night, and we'll up your share of the loot to 55/45.”
“Deal.” She stuck out her hand and we shook on it. Her hand had fur on it and it was surprisingly soft. I looked at her. She was a pretty sort, in a Satyr way.
Still, I was a bit bitter when a prompt showed up notifying the conditions of Farelle’s companionship had changed. A girl had to eat indeed.
As we still held hands, she grinned at me. “Speaking of loot, I'm guessing the leader wasn't empty-pocketed?”
I thoroughly regretted every thought of attraction I’d had. “Fine, fine…”
We started divvying up the loot then and th
ere, despite my protests that it would be much easier for me to carry everything since it hardly weighed me down. I passed over some items, and she passed some to me, but overall, I ended up with a decent haul of 32 coins, a pair of redundant leather greaves, and a useful magic item.
Journeyman’s Cloak of Insight
Quality: Exceptional (87/100)
Rarity: Rare
Attributes: ? (You must identify this item to learn its magic attributes)
I was getting tired of not knowing what all these magic items were. Once again, I resolved to identify them as soon as I could. This cloak particularly looked to be a fine piece of work, and I curled up in it immediately.
Neither of us looked to be able to sleep that night, so we pressed further on.
14
Halduran
As promised, Farelle aimed us towards Halduran and the sanctuary where, if all went well, I'd learn a potent new channel. I sighed in relief when we exited the forest and entered a long strip of meadows, but Farelle told me not to be so eager. “Now there's no place to hide or run to if bandits show up,” she said with a grin.
I rolled my eyes. “I ought to earn a free lesson with all that I put up with.”
“Fat chance.” She whistled as she pranced through the meadows, and I bit back another farmhouse animal joke. We weren't quite there yet.
We traveled all through the day and the next. Throughout the walk, I thought guiltily again of how much time I was stealing from the VR parlor, though the guilt had lessened quite a bit as time went on. It definitely wasn't enough that I wanted to stop. I also thought about the normal home niceties — showers, hot breakfast, soda — about my parents, my friends. But right now, in the thrall of the Everlands, it was little more than a dull ache, and only for a moment. I’d get all that when I was thrust back into the real world, and this awesome dream had ended.
As evening of the second day drew near, we finally arrived at Halduran. The town was quaint and looked quite a bit poorer than Stalburgh, but I could see plenty of signs for shops swinging in the wind. There was a shop for potions, and after our close encounter with the bandits, I was keen to buy some, just in case. Farelle’s mind was in other places. She pawed the ground with a hoof and looked around suspiciously, as if someone might jump out and assault us at any moment. But though the townspeople — mostly humans — eyed us strangely, they didn't seem the least bit threatening.
“This isn't so bad now, is it?” I said. “I don't see any boogiemen popping out from shadows.”
“Boogiemen? I don't know these creatures.” But she didn't take her derision as far as she might have, as her eyes were carefully scanning the town.
“Come on,” I said. “Let's go to the potion shop. Maybe there will be something there to help you relax.”
“Only one thing helps me relax,” the Wilder muttered. But as she took another swig from her flask — as she'd been doing our whole journey — the alcohol didn't even seem up to the job of calming her nerves.
Farelle led us to the potion shop, which seemed to be more of an herb shop that casually mixed on the side. I was curious to see if I could learn the skill myself. While I could heal myself with Minor Healing and I had a ready way of restoring spirit, it’d be good to have an alternate method of recovery just in case.
Stopping at the door of the herb shop, I asked my companion, “Is there somewhere I can restore mana around here?”
“Hm.” The Satyr glanced around. “I don't know of any mana fonts around here, nor any power stones.” She shrugged. “You'll probably have to do it by potion.”
All the more important that we came here then. “Shall we enter?”
Entering through the cracked door, we saw a middle-aged man with thick spectacles staring intently at his work of grinding herbs by mortar and pestle. We stood there for a good minute before he happened to glance up and startle. “Fickle gods!” he shouted. “What are you trying to do, kill me?”
This wasn't quite the greeting I'd expected, but then again, nothing in the Everlands quite was. “Fickle gods?” I asked. “Why are they fickle?”
“How are they not?” The herbalist pushed up the glasses on his nose, but they immediately slid back down. “They form factions based on grudges. They cause storms and famines because they’re throwing tantrums. They favor those who throw away their lives for them, and burn those who don’t believe in them.”
“Well,” I said, “when you put it that way…”
“That’s one thing to be said for those Daughters of the Dark,” the herbalist said. “Those Night Sisters they worship at least know they’re fickle.”
“We’re here for potions, not base philosophy,” Farelle interjected loudly. I glanced at her, and saw her eyes were tight with anger. I knew now why she had so much hesitancy coming here to Halduran now — she was devout, even if she kept it close and private. Again, I wondered about Yalua. It had slipped my mind to try and figure out anything about the god or goddess. But that was a task for another time.
The herbalist blinked. “Right. Potions.” He turned and rustled around in a cupboard behind him for a couple minutes before turning back the thin necks of glass flasks clutched in both hands.
Setting them down, he studied them with a pleased smile. “Quite the selection at the moment. Let’s see, we have Red Widow Poison, Minor Mana, Minor Healing, Minor Cure…”
I was frothing at the mouth. “Cure for what?”
The herbalist shrugged. “More things than you can remember.”
I thought of all the handy features of my interface and grinned. “Try me.”
He eyed me skeptically. “If you buy it, I’ll name all 84 poisons it cures once.”
“How much for all of them?”
“All of them?” He shook the last two. “Including Fire Balm and Resist Frost?”
Those sounded intriguing as well. I nodded.
The herbalist tilted his head thoughtfully. “63 coins.”
I cringed. That was about 3/4 of my remaining coins. Still, these might save my life sometime, and prevent me from losing all of my gear. Not to mention stave off severe pain and help in other ways.
But I couldn’t help but haggle. “50 coins?”
The herbalist snorted. “Do I look like I negotiate to you? 63, or I’ll sell to others who pass through.”
I shrugged and doled out the coins, though I winced as I did. Still, I was happy enough when I swept up the potions and put them in my inventory. The herbalist eyed me strangely as the items disappeared into blue hazes, but only muttered, “Fickle gods…”
After the herbalist had named all 84 cures as he’d promised — and I’d captured them in my handy overlay — my business with potions was concluded. It was getting dark outside, and if I wanted that new channel, I’d have to get it soon. Farelle and I would leave first thing the next morning. Herbalism would have to wait for another time.
But as we exited the shop and set down the road back outside town to hunt for a campsite for the night, I couldn’t think of how I’d slip away to do the quest without Farelle knowing. I couldn’t risk being stuck out in the middle of the wilderness with no guide to help me navigate, unless I wanted to wander aimlessly for ages, and I had no doubt that if she knew my intentions, she’d abandon me to trolls in a heartbeat.
But as soon as the dark edge of town came in sight, a cheery sight caught my attention. The Whispering Boar, the sign declared, shaped like a great, shaggy boar with its tusks forming the W. I suddenly knew how to get my companion out of the way long enough to perform my task.
“You know,” I said casually to the Wilder, “I’m getting a bit tired of sleeping on hard ground. How about we rent a bed tonight?”
Farelle stopped and looked over at me with a dead stare. “Is that a come on?”
“What? No! I really just want to sleep in a bed.” I hesitated, but I couldn’t resist. “The sleeping arrangements are up to you.”
A beat passed, then the Satyr’s stony expression
cracked into a grin. “Yeah, okay. An inn wouldn’t be bad. But you’re paying.”
I groaned. “Fine. This time.”
We stepped inside and were immediately greeted by… quiet. I was spooked. The common room was full enough, but they were all either quietly talking, reading, or sitting by themselves, contemplatively staring at the stuffed boar’s head in prominent display above the hearth. A quiet barroom — it didn’t bode well for what I had in mind.
Still, I saw Farelle’s eyes immediately go hungrily to the kegs behind a man wiping the counter. “While we’re here,” she said, “it wouldn’t hurt to indulge a bit…” She looked at me questioningly, and it took me a moment to understand why. As her employer, she didn’t want to make a drunken fool out of herself unless I sanctioned it.
I gestured graciously. “Please, be my guest. In fact, the first round’s on me.”
For the first time, I saw true gratitude. It made me feel all the lower what I was going to do.
I was nearly broke by the time she passed out in the corner. Farelle was a small Satyr, but could she ever pack that ale away! I must have gotten her ten drinks to my two, and that was in addition to whatever she’d been drinking from the flask all day. It was a wonder she wasn’t yellow from liver failure.
Rising smoothly, my head pleasantly buzzing, I guiltily looked down on her. It had been all too easy to play on her weakness so I could get away. But I needed to know what this channel was, and it wouldn’t hurt her if I was gone a few hours.
-1 to Alignment: Moral
Ah well, I guess I deserved that one.
I asked the barkeep to watch over her, then I stole out of The Whispering Boar and into the night.
15
Sanctuary
Exiting the inn, I looked around, but darkness had descended while I lulled Farelle into a drunken stupor, and I could see little beyond what the mounted lanterns and braziers illuminated. If I was going to find the Night Sisters’ sanctuary, I’d need to ask for directions.
Absalom’s Fate Page 10