by Ryan Rimmel
Growing up as a person of interest, she’d learned most of the tricks for avoiding guards. Guards frequently forced her to enter into a party. They, along with her father, insisted on knowing her whereabouts at all times. However, no matter how good the
Transferring your party membership to some unsuspecting sap was always handy, and it's not like she didn’t know where O’Really was. She just needed to figure out how he ticked, and she wouldn’t have to be a co-ruler to anyone. She could be a proper queen, once her Cause was fulfilled.
It had taken her three spells to ensure that she could lock down where O’Really was. Now, all she had to do was follow him and figure out his secrets.
Behind her, someone cleared his throat. Julia turned, a defensive prayer ready. It sputtered on her lips, as she saw the hawk-faced man she still occasionally dreamed about.
“Hardragon.”
Chapter 27 - How Exotic
Cutting between two stalls and grabbing a hot meat pie, I tried to figure out what to do next. Julia was in a clothing store, trying on dresses or something. I didn’t think she would appreciate me poking my head in. Frankly, I didn’t want to go dress shopping. Dresses made my butt look frumpy.
The Temple of Logan had awarded me multiple Talent Points. I got the one for making a vow at the altar, but several more due to the draining and restoration. I had enough to buy the Domain spell upgrade, Regeneration. I had also earned an Explorer talent for visiting a ‘Lost Temple’, which had happened when I drained the temple’s power. I had drained the well dry but blessed it right back up again. Shart had not been kidding. In terms of spiritual power, the Temple of Logan had been running on fumes. The single blessing I’d performed represented more Divine power than the entire temple had before I’d arrived.
“I assume we broke something?” I asked Shart.
“Indubitably,” replied Shart. “I’m looking at the
“Is your cohort going to find out what we just did?” I asked.
“Not anymore,” replied Shart, “Which is why I’m looking through the
Glancing through the Explorer tree, I scanned through the talents. I started with the Hit Point talent I’d chosen before, but I got distracted. I noticed the next branch on that tree was Exotic Weapon Savant.
“How do Exotic Weapons and Hit Points go together?” I wondered.
“Your thinking is flawed,” replied Shart, “as usual. That branch isn’t giving you more Hit Points to make you healthier. It's giving you more Hit Points to make you better able to explore.”
“That’s probably much more useful than just gaining Hit Points, but I don’t remember seeing Exotic Weapons there before,” I said.
“Talents like those have to be unlocked. They become visible once you learn certain skills or gain powers in other ways,” stated Shart. “You earned that talent option by being granted a blessing at a nature temple.”
“Well, then, I’ll have to seriously consider taking it,” I chuckled.
● Exotic Weapon Savant: You rapidly gain proficiency in exotic weapons. You have a chance to unlock any unusual weapon skills and will gain proficiency at twice the normal rate, until you achieve Expert rank. Your three highest weapon skills will determine your base weapon skill. Your base skill is Journeyman.
I could learn to fight with any exotic weapon, and I would start out at Journeyman. Traditionally, in any game, the exotic weapons were always the most fun. Then again, I wasn’t here to have fun; I was here to kill Charles.
“You might need to kill Charles with an exotic weapon,” Shart helpfully supplied.
“Well, I can’t go against my shoulder demon,” I replied, selecting the talent. “I’m surprised you were up for such a frivolous choice.”
“I have my arcane and selfish reasons,” said Shart, and I idly wondered how much I’d just been fucked over.
The next issue was how to test the skill. I looked around with my Perception skill active, until I spotted an unattended piece of fabric. Using my Salvage skill, I converted it down to a string. Wrapping that around both hands, I tried to get into a murderous mindset. Thinking about Charles did the trick. I imagined wrapping the string around his throat.
● You have gained proficiency in exotic weapon, garrote. Your rank is Journeyman.
“Neat,” I said, dropping the string. “Now to find a whip.”
***
“How polite of her,” thought Maggie, as she used her Magic Sniffing talent to move toward her target. This O’Really guy was all sorts of annoying. He was fast, moved through crowds like an old pro, and was devilishly tricky to track. If the secondary target hadn’t landed a few spells on him first, Maggie would have surely lost him in the hordes of people.
Reminding the princess of that would be a fond memory, she was sure.
Thankfully, Maggie had a few minutes to scrutinize him before this moronic chase began. There were advantages to dressing like a common performer. O’Really had an amulet of non-detection. It was an older type, the kind parents gave their none-too-talented children before sending them off into the world. Her Analyze Target perk had come in useful again, allowing her to spot his actual level. He was a level 7 Cleric.
As a professional Assassin, this kind of job irked her. It was a total waste of her immeasurable talents, and it was all because Phillip and Su-Kar couldn’t get their shit sorted. Maggie knew what had happened now, without needing to even hear the story. The pair had started fighting and let their targets escape. The Disguise versus Remort argument was total bunk. A part of her briefly considered that O’Really had a perk that would hide his abilities, but even that was impossible. Her second talent, Know Thy Enemy, could pierce not only magical items but also perks, such as Shadow Walker. If he was Disguised, her talent would have bypassed it.
Not that O’Really still wasn’t all sorts of annoying. She’d lost him again. He was bouncing all over the damn market. O’Really was the most paranoid person she had ever tried to ambush. She was positive he knew he was being tracked. Otherwise, his pattern wouldn’t make any sense at all.
No one is that paranoid.
Once, he had almost managed to get to her. He’d turned a corner and reversed himself, before Maggie had reacquired him. By the time she’d spotted him again, he was on top of the path she’d been taking, before one of the Men of Iron’s wanderings had diverted her. Maggie hated relying on luck, but it was exhilarating.
Her next kill was going to be much easier, thankfully. The boss had already given her a target, along with permission to torture him to death, using whatever method she desired. It was rare that the boss let her cut loose like that. There wasn’t even a word about collateral damage.
That meant there was going to be a lot of collateral damage.
Maggie was going to light a fire. Maybe there would be a hospital or, better yet, an orphanage. As a rule, no one cared about orphans. However, that was in the back of her mind. Right now, she was trying to tail someone who was obviously concerned about being followed. Because of that, it was taking forever.
She didn’t like waiting this long. When O’Really finally stopped at a monster tamer’s stall, she realized now was the time to act. She stopped blending into the crowd and began weaving illusions around herself. Her proximity to O’Really had let her assassination talents prepare.
Instantly, her short hair morphed into a thick head of long, blond hair. Then, it briefly turned into a medium length, brown style she didn’t recognize. It was very strange and otherworldly. Finally, it settled on long and blond again.
Maggie rolled her eyes. The idiot was conflicted about something. She thought about going as someone other than a woman O’Really was romantically involved with; however, she decided to just go with it. This was a quick job and shape changing like this was draining. She considered that for a moment, forcing her hair to maintain the blond look. It loo
ked far less out of place in Union than the messy, brown style. She guessed it was some Riverlands trash hair. That easterner got around.
She had been hoping the princess would have won him over already, but, alas, that was not the case. Maggie always felt awkward for the first few minutes in a new body, but the princess’s was one she was used to.
As the rest of her body finished transforming, Maggie lifted a pocket mirror and looked at herself for a moment, smiling. She was now named Jarra. She stopped smiling. Maggie never knew quite why, but her smile had always made her uncomfortable.
Ever since she’d first killed someone, that is. Everything except the moment her victim’s life left their eyes was uninteresting. She lived for the kill. It was the only thing that brought her any joy. That was for later, though. Right now, she needed to make sure her body was as perfect as it could be.
Maggie considered making the breasts larger or the butt wider, but this body was well-proportioned enough. She checked her daggers. They still had some poison on them, the same poison she’d used to kill the king. She had talents to preserve that resource. If it was good enough for a king, the dregs were good enough for a Cleric.
She nonchalantly walked into the stall. She wouldn’t even have to say anything. That’s why she had Mind Control magic. She’d just stab him, maybe in the heart, perhaps in the throat. If a Cleric couldn’t pray, they couldn’t cast any spells.
Maggie knew that wasn’t entirely true, but she was a thorough girl. She could stab him in both places.
Part of the Shadow Assassin class was the morphing of your body into a perfect disguise. She didn’t just look like this Jarra woman. She literally became her. It was impossible to tell the difference between them. Maggie was damn good at what she did. Her Shadow Image talent, coupled with Mental magic, were designed to make her much more believable. Once, her talents had allowed her to convince a man to kill both his elderly parents and his wife before killing himself. It was one of her fondest memories to date.
The shopkeeper looked up at her for a moment too long, and O’Really turned his head to see her. That was his first mistake. His second was the usual one. He looked straight into her eyes. That was where her magic was the strongest. He smiled broadly, stepping toward her.
He was larger than Maggie had expected. For a Cleric, he had a very physical build. Furthermore, her Lore didn’t pull any useful information about him. That set her on edge. Normally, her Lore gave excellent reads on her victims. Maggie cautiously stepped toward him. O'Really's smile grew broader, and she relaxed. She tightly held her daggers. As he walked toward her, she truly looked at his smile.
It was a warm, welcoming smile, full of promise. Maggie briefly considered waiting until later. Murder was even more fun after sex. However, she was under strict orders from the boss. She walked straight up to him, as if to throw herself into his arms. It was an old trick; get close before the target understands what is happening. As she got within knife range, Maggie looked deeply into his blue eyes. Her heart stopped.
His smile didn’t extend beyond his lips. His eyes weren’t full of love, happiness, or joy. His eyes screamed murder.
“Well, shit,” said Maggie.
Chapter 28 – Spiritual Disagreement in the Public Square
The horrified Fake Jarra thrust her dagger at my throat. My hand seized her wrist, and I started grinding the bones together. Nausea flooded into me. Her expression shifted from horror to terror. A second dagger materialized in her other hand, and she slashed with it. I blocked it with my forearm and pulled her into me, face-first.
● Basstown Headbutt successful. Damage 18, Knockback 3 logs.
She flew backward, her body twisting to absorb the impact. Then, her arm went taunt. Her head snapped around, as she realized I hadn’t released my grip. Before she could respond, I pivoted and slammed her lithe frame through a table and into the market.
Quick Puma Check indeed.
Old habits die hard. I’d spotted the first tail in a routine Puma Check. At one point, there were two of them following me. The first girl was now missing; I hadn’t quite been able to pin her down. I was sure I hadn’t seen someone who looked like Jarra before now, though. Where had the other woman gone?
I glanced down at my hand. As Fake Jarra had tried to twist free, she’d scored a hit. A thin line of blood ran into my palm. The poison from the dagger was already trying to kill me, but it was a Damage causing poison. My Poisoner perk and Mitigate started gnawing on the problem.
Fake Jarra laid on the ground in the marketplace for only a moment. Then, she sprang back to her feet, a dagger in both hands.
“Impressive,” she sneered. It was Jarra’s voice, but the speech pattern was off. She couldn’t mimic her cadence. “I’ve never had anyone manage to overcome my Shadow Image before.”
I let the length of my whip fall to the ground. Fake Jarra noticed it and raised an eyebrow. Unfortunately, none of my Duelist talents or Ranked skills applied to whips, but I thought that was because I hadn’t tried using any Ranked skill with my whip yet. I executed a Quick Strike, allowing me to snap the whip at her twice. I got my prompt.
● You have discovered Quick Strike: Whip. You are at Rank 1.
Feck, I have to relearn that skill for every damn weapon.
She seemed to fade, blowing apart into three copies. Each copy threw a dagger at me. I executed Fancy Footwork, but, as her barrage of slashes blazed at me, I dropped my whip.
She sneered again. On Jarra’s face, that look nearly broke what little reserve of Willpower I still had. At that moment, I was running on fury. “Three unerring daggers, each coated with a different, terrible poison. Please tell me, which one do you think will kill you first?”
“One missed,” I said.
“Either of the other two will kill you,” she answered, unperturbed. “Please, stay here. I want to watch.”
“Who the fuck are you?” I growled.
“Why, I’m your love. It’s me, Jarra,” she grinned. Then, her body shifted into that of my Earth wife. “Or, maybe, I’m whoever the hell this is.”
“Jim, calm down,” yelled Shart, as my rage dangerously expanded.
“Give in to your anger, Jim,” called Badgelor. He seemed much more reasonable. “Let the hate flow through you!”
I stepped toward her, the daggers she’d thrown at me in my hands. My wife’s shocked face always amused me. I was going to cut it off of whoever the hell this was.
With a flick of her wrists, both daggers vanished from my hands. I kicked up my whip. Catching it, I charged toward her. Lashing out with my fifteen feet of tough leather, I snapped after her lightly armored body. Another dagger flew toward me. I snatched it out of the air and flung it back at her. Her entire body bent backward at an impossible angle, as the dagger flew past. I whipped at her again.
● Smiting Whip Strike: Damage: 16, Effect: Painful, Damage is tripled for pain threshold
She shrieked, her body suddenly collapsing in on itself. Now, she was the young, checker-clad performer who had been sneaking after me in the market. I found her name tag. Maggie. Well, Maggie was going to die. I whipped her twice more. Each time, she was barely able to get out of the way.
Suddenly she vanished. I tumbled forward, as she materialized behind me. She followed triumphantly, closing with her paired daggers and executing her own special move.
● Maggie has executed Thousand Cuts. You have been attacked by 8 attacks, each strike causes 5 points of Damage. Your Fancy Footwork skill is Advanced. You avoid 5 of the attacks. You have been struck for 9 points of Damage. You are poisoned 3 times. All attacks are partially negated. You suffer 60% of Poison Damage. Your Poisoner perk reduces Poison Damage by half. Your Herbalism reduces Poison Damage by 2 x Rank, 10%. Would you like to negate the remaining 20% poison for 25 Stamina per effect?
The expression of triumph on her face vanished, as I managed to trap one of her wrists with my whip. I flung her as far as I could. She flipped through
the air before loudly slamming into a vegetable cart.
“My cabbages!” screamed the proprietor, a distraught looking man.
Maggie shakily got to her feet and stared at my steady Health bar. “You can’t have negated that much poison,” she growled.
“Maybe you aren’t very good at making poison,” I replied, stepping into the middle of the rapidly clearing market. I crushed a volleyball-sized cabbage underfoot, as Maggie considered her next move. My Stamina was refilling, so I decided to give her a moment. I wanted to be at full-strength when I killed her.
“There is no chance you are Disguised,” she grumbled. “I’d have been able to kill you already. There is only one other option. You are a Remort.”
“And?” I shot back.
“I haven’t killed a Remort before,” she grinned. “You get to be my first. You always remember your first.”
“You haven’t considered something,” I said coldly.
“What is that?” she asked, her grin continuing to grow.
“In order to kill a Remort, you have to fight a fucking Remort,” I replied, throwing a head of cabbage straight into the air. She was too smart to pay it much mind. It didn’t matter. While she was preparing for her next attack, I jumped nearly a dozen feet into the air and slapped my open palm against the cabbage.
● Volleyball Skill activated. You’ve served a cabbage!
The nice thing about Shart’s previous size was that he was the perfect practice object. I’d slapped him around in combat before and knew what I was doing. Not only that, but sports skills didn’t require many Skill Points to level up. I’d easily become an Expert in Volleyball, allowing me to hit volleyball-sized objects with deadly accuracy.
Maggie attempted to Dodge, but, with that much spin on the cabbage, she misjudged. The vegetable smashed directly into her face.