Steel Wolves of Craedia (Realm of Arkon, Book 3)
Page 23
Krian. Level 181.
Race: elder demon [human].
Knight-Lieutenant of the Order of Punishing Steel.
Legendary Warlord.
Archmage Altus' Apprentice.
Liberator of Shackled Souls.
Nerghall's Slayer.
Shaartakh's Slayer.
Marked by Ingvar the Warrior God.
Marked by Death.
First in Ghorazm Ruins.
First in the West Wing.
First in the Swamp Cave.
Agility: 415.
18.07% chance to hit critically with physical attacks: 5% base, 2.07% agility bonus, 1% equipment bonus, 10% rank bonus.
41.5% damage reduction from falling.
Strength: 1656.
30.61% boost to armor: 16.56% strength bonus, 9.05% equipment bonus, 5% rank bonus.
366.25% boost to physical damage: 331.2% strength bonus, 9.05% equipment bonus, 5% rank bonus, 21% achievement bonus.
7286 lbs carrying capacity.
Constitution: 1291.
12,910 hit points.
Vigor: 270.
2700 energy points.
Spirit: 171.
6.71% mana and energy regeneration in combat: 5% base + 1.71% spirit bonus.
6.71% mana and energy regeneration out of combat: 5% base + 1.71% spirit bonus.
1.71% HP regeneration out of combat: 0% base + 1.71% spirit bonus.
Intellect: 171.
5.85% chance to hit critically with spells: 5% base + .85% intellect bonus.
85.5% to spell power.
1710 mana points.
Armor: 4310 (82.7% physical damage absorption).
Abilities and skills:
Tongue of Flame X—action bar
Ice Blade X—action bar
Jump III—action bar
Step through Darkness III—action bar
Stone Disc IV—action bar
Morph V—action bar
Silence V—action bar
Earth Shackles IV—action bar
Shield of the Elements V [active]
Portal Creation II
Personal Weapon Enchanting with the Power of the Elements V
Demonic Rage Form I
Infernal Rage
Aura of Horror
Passive skills and achievements:
+5% to any magic action [Archmage Altus' Apprentice].
+5% to physical and magic damage (party/clan bonus) [Shaartakh's Slayer].
+1% to physical and magic damage (party/clan bonus) [First in Ghorazm Ruins].
+5% to physical and magic damage, +5% to armor class and all resistances, +5% to healing spells, +5% to experience gained (party bonus) [Knight-Lieutenant of the Order of Punishing Steel].
+1% to physical and magic damage (party/clan bonus) [First in the West Wing].
+3% to physical and magic damage (party/clan bonus) [First in the the Swamp Cave].
+6% to physical and magic damage (party/clan bonus) [Shaartakh's Slayer].
Bonus to damage with swords: +2%.
Bonus to heavy armor: +2%.
Toughness: 47%.
Magic Resistances:
Water magic: 25% (50% with Shield of the Elements).
Air magic: 25% (50% with Shield of the Elements).
Earth magic: 25% (50% with Shield of the Elements).
Fire magic: 25% (50% with Shield of the Elements).
Mental magic: 95%.
Dark magic: 95%.
Nature magic: 25%.
Light magic: 75%.
Reputation with higher beings:
Setara—friendly
Ingvar—friendly
Bel—friendly
Celphata—friendly
Kirana—friendly
Reputation with other races:
Humans—unfriendly
Elves—unfriendly
Dark elves—respected
Orcs—unfriendly
Dwarves—unfriendly
Drow—unfriendly
Demons—unfriendly (Ashtar Dominion—respected, Craedia Princedom—revered)
Netherworld—unfriendly
Weapon damage: 488.0-579.5.
Stone Disc IV—787.3-1061.4 earth magic damage.
Tongue of Flame Х—10,093.59-11,986.13 physical damage.
Ice Blade Х—10,093.59-11,986.13 physical damage.
All in all, not half bad. My damage output was roughly equivalent to a level 200 dual-wielding warrior, and that was without my demonic combat form. Which was hardly surprising given my above-average gear and litany of achievements that would make any player above green with envy. My demons' damage output was comparable to mine, especially the archers'. Unlike me, they benefited from the banner's morale bonus, and if it weren't for Gloom's Charge it would be a real pain for me to intercept various high-level mobs. Thankfully, thanks to his new breastplate Aritor should start tanking bosses no less effectively than me, and that was truly a cause for joy. With those thoughts, I knocked out the pipe into a tray, put it away into inventory, and left my private room. It was time to check out the local shrine to my favorite warrior god.
The shrine was a twelve-foot figure of solid granite rising from the edge of a large rectangular platform, which, judging by the timeworn dummies installed all around, had at some point been used by the castle's troops for honing their combat skills. The warrior god stood to his full height, the familiar two-handed mallet resting on his shoulder, looking out on the training platform with disdain in his eyes. The undead hadn't destroyed the shrine. Maybe they had tried but failed? More likely they hadn't cared enough to try—the statue just stood there, needing neither money nor food for upkeep. Besides, I'd heard that a god's shrine could only be destroyed by a servant of another god. Specifically a servant, and not just a follower. Perhaps the disavowed simply hadn't gotten around to it in the initial turmoil, and then Magus Diarten, Altus with his mages, and Ahriman's forces who had arrived thereafter had made it so there was no one left to do the destroying.
Everyone came to Ingvar's shrine except for Vaessa, whom I'd asked to stand watch on the wall. I'd wanted to go alone at first, but then Elnar had convinced me to wait until everybody else was free to join. Why all the hullabaloo? Well, the medieval world, even one filled with magic, was simply too lacking for entertainment to miss such a momentous event. Everyone in the clan knew about the relationship between their commander and his god, and nobody wanted to miss the moment of our communion. But there was also another reason: all of my clanmates—except for Vaessa, naturally—had decided to follow in their leader's footsteps and become followers of the lightning god. Having everybody there at once would expedite the process nicely—in fact, Elnar had promised to conduct a simple initiation ritual that would only take two-three hours.
"The century is lined up, dar. You can start," the tifling's quiet words interrupted my contemplation.
"What am I doing?" I whispered to him, seeing my clanmates standing in a line behind me with solemn faces.
"Are you pulling my leg again? I am just his follower, while you've been marked by his hand! And you're asking me? I'm just hoping to do my part of the ritual without screwing up!" he hissed at me.
Well, this should be interesting, I thought, making for Ingvar's granite sculpture. Keep it simple, stupid. Just dump a hundred gold on the altar and be done with it. But as I drew closer to the god's statue, my gut suddenly told me that gold was the last thing Ingvar wanted from me. Oh well! I shrugged, rolled up the sleeve of my shirt, sewn by Treis, pulled a knife out of my inventory and slashed at my wrist. As the first drops of blood fell into the sacrificial bowl, there was a strong smell of ozone in the air. Seconds later a sudden gust of wind knocked me back a step. The wound on my wrist closed up, and the god's stone statue on the altar moved.
Ingvar shifted his mighty shoulders, as if trying to stretch, and looked around. The crowd of demons was perfectly still and silent, the only noise being that of the cracking of granite as the statue was coming to l
ife. Finally the god's eyes stopped on me. Ingvar regarded me for a minute, as if taking stock of me, then smiled and nodded approvingly, and turned back to stone. Just then the sky above was split by bolts of lightning, one of which struck the ground at the foot of the statue, blinding me for a few moments.
"You've grown up, wolf cub!" a familiar sardonic voice sounded in my head.
"It's good to see you, Ulissa," I smiled at the young woman before me after my vision returned.
"Are these yours?" the countess motioned at the rigid formation behind me.
"Aye. My clan's fighters have decided to devote themselves to Ingvar's service."
"Very well," Ulissa nodded. "But let's take care of you first. On your knee, lieutenant!" there were notes of steel in the voice of the warrior god's companion. The massive two-hander landed heavily on my shoulder; there was a booming of thunder in my ears as fire scorched my cheek. "By the name of the god from whom I draw strength..." the forceful words of the knight-commander of the Order of Punishing Steel punctuated the air. And as I knelt there, transfixed by the beautiful Valkyrie, I knew that another phase of my life had come to an end.
You have earned a new rank, Knight-Captain of the Order of Punishing Steel. Now you can command groups of up to 500 sentient NPCs. You and the warriors under your command receive 10% increase to your physical and magic damage, 10% to armor class and all resistances, and 10% to the effectiveness of healing spells. Experience gained by sentient beings under your command is increased by 10%.
"Congratulations, brother," Ulissa embraced me tightly. "I didn't expect it to happen so quickly—you keep surprising us!" She took a step toward the formation, then spoke loudly: "Warriors! What you have accomplished today will go down in the annals of history as a legendary feat! The Order is glad to welcome you into its ranks!"
The sky above the troops darkened, and what happened next could only be described as pandemonium. The thunderous racket clogged my ears through and through, as lightning tore up the sky. It took a full minute for the mayhem to start to abate. When it was all over, the formation was completely gone: some soldiers stood there in stunned silence, others were on the ground, trying to regain their senses.
"I may have gone a tad overboard," Ulissa sniffed, though she didn't look at all distraught by it. "Give them a minute to recover," the countess sheathed her sword, turned to me and said. "Got any grub? I'm hungry."
"Sure! We're about to sit down for dinner," I nodded, then cast an incredulous look at Reece, who was studying the tip of his own tail with equal measure of incredulity.
"That's right, even that windbag has earned the right to be called a knight," Ulissa chuckled, following my eyes.
"Why did you come to him in a dream, but not to me?"
"Because I couldn't. You dreamers aren't like everyone else. And there's an added layer of queerness to you on top of that," she shrugged.
"Dar! Look!" Iam, who had become a tifling along with all the surviving demons from the first group of recruits from one month ago, was pointing up at the clan's banner flapping in the wind. The familiar muzzle of a wolf cub was gone, replaced by a scowling, red-eyed young wolf. I focused my eyes on the banner.
Steel Wolves Banner V.
The banner of the Steel Wolves clan.
All clan members and their allies within a half mile radius of the raised banner receive the following bonuses:
+10 to morale (only for NPCs).
+5% to maximum constitution.
+3% to all maximum resistances.
Warning! If the banner is lost or captured by the enemy, all clan members suffer the following debuffs for the next three months:
-25 to morale (only for NPCs).
-5% to maximum constitution.
-25% to all resistances.
As expected, the banner's stats had increased to reflect the clan's higher level. I'd earned a promotion, too, and the symbol on my cheek had changed as a result. Suddenly I felt incredibly fatigued—today had been entirely too eventful.
"James," I called over my deputy. His cheek now bore a single line across it, same as the cheeks of all the demons who had become nobles this day. I now realized that the symbol denoted the title of knight. "Are we eating today or what? You promised us wine..."
Find me a boy who hadn't had this fantasy at some point in life: sitting at a feast alongside real knights in a castle they had just seized in glorious combat? And it didn't matter that everything was probably very different in the times written about by Walter Scott. Our table may have been much more modest—we hadn't exactly had the time to prepare a proper feast—but so what? On this day we had slain the companion of a god, and here was the companion of another god sitting to my right, holding a glass in her hand like an ordinary woman. I now had the ability to lead a raid of five hundred fighters—an amazing development, though I feared even those numbers might not be enough to rescue the captive dragon deity. And we would have to rescue him one way or another, no matter the cost. Without him I had no way of getting to Cheney; moreover, his death might lead to this world becoming an altogether unpleasant place to live. And it appeared that I was stuck here for quite a while... Should I consult with Ulissa? No, better not—Celphata had made it clear that the gods might not resist the temptation and end up disturbing the delicate balance. After all, being able to conceal a whole plane of reality using the captive god's blood was a tremendous advantage. Could there be something else like that, besides the blood? The exchange with the White Dragon was too short to explain everything, so let's focus on the things that were said. He'd mentioned that before I came to his rescue, a woman would appear in my life. And not just any woman, but my woman. And I doubted she would be some ordinary gal. I looked at Ulissa sitting next to me. Could it be her? The countess was anything but ordinary, that much was certain. Alas, my mates are limited to succibi and elder demonesses, I thought with a sigh.
"Why so glum?" Ulissa looked at me with surprise. "In barely a month you've risen to the rank of captain, found loyal friends, and slain a great monster."
"Grown horns and a tail," I continued, imitating her tone. "Stopped being human."
"Do you think they care what you look like?" the woman motioned at my clanmates around the table. "Don't anger Sata with your sulking, friend, you're doing just fine." The countess took a sip from her glass, then bared her snow-white teeth in a grin.
At first, the presence of Ingvar's messenger had my demons behaving like military cadets around a four-star general. It took several rounds of wine tasting and a few choice tales of adventure from Ulissa to finally put everybody at ease.
I couldn't argue with the countess. Unfortunately, good mood isn't something you can order off a menu. Ulissa would soon take her leave, and most of my clanmates would pair off and disappear in their rooms, and I would return to my quarters all alone. I would fall into bed without bothering to undress, and dream of the day when I would get out of this plane, find Alyona and Max, and finally be rid of this solitude. Maybe I should ask Ulissa to find my sister above and give her something from me? I considered the thought, then rejected it. No, I'd already asked Kirana, and nothing came of it.
I took a sip of wine, and forced a smile on my face. I sat there with everyone a while longer, and when the countess stepped away somewhere, I got up and trudged back to my room. I was feeling miserable, but I'd still need to be up at the crack of dawn to fight off the remnants of the undead, and then set out for Gilthor. Those people had only several days left to live, so time was of the essence. If not for that, I'd return to Xantarra and recruit folks there. After what we had done, there should be no shortage of volunteers. The race continued, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was following some linear script. Too bad the script had been written without me.
Having made it to my room, I lit a few magic lanterns, poured myself another half glass of wine, opened the window and plopped down before the monitor. I needed to plan out the next phase of my development. Outside the window th
e moon was huge and round like a cartwheel amid scatterings of twinkling stars, streaming moonlight that seemed to infiltrate every crevice. The ambiance was entirely unsuitable for messing around with stats and talents. I reached for my pipe just as there was a series of soft raps on the door.
"You're a lousy flirt, wolf cub! A woman comes to visit you, and you don't even bother inviting her up to your room," Ulissa stepped through the door, shut the door, slid her hands around my neck, and arched her brow with feigned indignation. The Valkyrie's gray eyes sparkled playfully.
"But..." I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. "But we can't... I can only—"
"Silly boy," she laughed softly. "Those restrictions don't apply to me."
Her lips were unbearably close to mine, smelling of wine and some fragrant herbs. Maybe she is the one? the thought flashed through my mind as I threw caution to the wind and drew this intoxicating creature closer.
Chapter 13
Autumn had come to the princedom, painting the trees and bushes a spectrum of colors, from deep yellow to rusty orange. The cold western wind was blowing in heavy gray thunderclouds from the Great Lake with increasing frequency, which disgorged nasty frigid showers onto the ground. A thick fog had blanketed the ground from sunrise, concealing the hooves of horses and giving the illusion of riding over a magical cloud. The fog had dissipated closer to afternoon, with maybe five-six miles left to go to the Gilthorean border.
We had departed La-Kharte yesterday morning, after taking a full day to get things in order and sort out the treasury. There were barrels of wine, rolls of fabric, wooden and iron components of obscure contraptions, tons of tools and a veritable mountain of metal ingots, of which only three dozen mithril bars held any value. We'd taken the mithril with us and dumped the rest into the castle's treasury, seeing no use in hauling extra cargo.