The Marches of Edonis (Omegaverse Book 5)

by GR Cooper

  "I'm humbled to be in your presence."

  "Frankly, I think you ought to be," he rumbled in mock severity. "In fact, I think it's time I found a new sleeping partner. One that befits my exalted status." He looked her up and down, eying her appraisingly.

  "It was too good to last," she whimpered, nodding.

  "Maybe the girl in the guild hall? What do you think?"

  "Totally out of your league." She gave one last rub to Bear and sat back up fully, looking Wulfgar in the eye.

  "I know what you're about to ask and where you're about to go," she said, smiling softly. "The answer is, I don't know where we are, you and I, or where we're going." She shrugged, "I like you, you like me. We've known each other a week."

  She pulled her knees into her chest and looked into the fire, "I mean, you're great. I have no reason to believe that you're hiding any great personality flaws. I enjoy your company. You're smart. You're funny. You're good looking, but, then, who isn't in this world?"

  "I get all of that," he said, "I do. I feel the same about you."

  "So, friends first? We'll let the rest fall in where it may?"

  He nodded, "It's not like there's any hurry. We have all of the time in the universe."

  "But," he said standing, "we're burning time up for this particular day." He walked around the fire, gently kicking the others awake.

  Wulfgar swallowed the last of his breakfast sausage and washed it down with a drink from his water skin. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he stood from in front of the fire and stretched. The other three humans did likewise, then they all began kicking dirt onto the lessening flame until it smoldered and smoked.

  He began to think about his new level. Level four gave him two attribute points to spend. His first reaction, as a new sorcerer, was to dump them both into Intelligence, to boost his Mana.

  "But I'm still a rogue as well," he muttered while packing his gear in preparation for the day's ride. "I need to increase my Agility." He brought up his character sheet and looked it over while he fastened the straps on his pack.

  HP:22 (ST+AGI + (LVL/3))

  AC:03 (Leather, Full)

  STA:14 (AGI+LVL)

  MNA:11 (INT+ (Magic Level x 2))

  Agility played a big role not only in his hit percentages, but in his Stamina as well. And his Climbing skill. Hidden Stab's bonus factored in both Strength and Agility - so did Hit Points.

  No, he decided, he couldn't focus on his shiny, new magical ability at the cost of his other abilities. He scanned down the list of attributes.

  STR:10

  INT:07

  AGI:11

  PRS:02+01

  FRT:01

  Personality he wasn't that worried about. Maybe, if he was a crafter like Lauren or a merchant who both needed to be able to get the best prices out of NPC's, he might worry more about that.

  "What role does Personality play? The attribute," he asked the group as they mounted.

  "NPC prices," said Lauren.

  Wulfgar nodded.

  "Intimidation as well," added Snorri. "I've also heard that it can also effect the quests you get."

  "But only from your own race," interrupted Rydra.

  "How's that?"

  "Your Personality only effects NPC's of your own race. Humans. You start off with a blank slate with each other race that you meet."

  "A tabula rasa?" asked Wulfgar.

  Rydra chuckled, "Yeah. If you had a high personality and wandered into an NPC human town, they'd treat you like a long lost son."

  Or like cow-shit they just stepped in if you're a Highlander, thought Wulfgar.

  "But," continued Rydra, "if you were to walk into an Elf or Dwarf town, for example, and hadn't built up any reputation with those races, they'd neither love nor hate you, because they're neutral with humans."

  "So," countered Wulfgar, "I assume that, say, an Orc village would feel an inherent animosity, regardless of my Personality, because of their ingrained hatred of humans."

  Rydra nodded, "You got it. Personality is for others of your same race, Reputation is for other races - though you can have a Reputation that acts as a modifier to your Personality."

  "Interesting," mused Wulfgar, "thanks." He looked back to his character sheet.

  REP:Dangerous (+1 PRS)

  Dwarves: Friendly

  Faerie: Respect

  Rats: Awe

  Wulfgar nodded. That made a lot more sense now. He looked back up to his attributes.

  Fortune hadn't, as far as he knew, played any significant role in his career as yet - at least it hadn't once he'd gotten it out of zero and the seemingly constant, literal rain of shit had stopped falling on him. He'd research on the benefits of that particular attribute another day.

  Wulfgar decided that he would alternate. Each time he gained a point to spend, he would spend it in Intelligence half the time, and Strength or Agility the other half. Since at level four, and six for that matter, he had two points to spend, he would add one to INT and one to STR. At level six he'd add one to INT and one to AGI. He made his selection.

  As he did, he felt his Hit Points and Mana rise. He smiled inwardly. He felt it odd that he could feel what his hit points and mana were - like knowing how hungry and thirsty you were.

  Wulfgar looked through his notifications again. He had gained the spell Familiar. He began reading its description.

  "Hmm," he mumbled. First of all, Familiar wasn't a spell as he'd thought. It was a professional skill.

  Once in the career of a Magus of Evening, they may enact a coupling with a creature of the world. That creature will then become bound to the Magus while retaining its inherent skills, and those skills will progress as naturally over time and usage. The Magus will be able to control the creature through a series of sub-skills that the Magus can learn. In addition, those skills inherent within the creature will be accessible to the Magus through the action of the creature.

  He wasn't sure what that last bit meant. He assumed that if a creature was able to attack with its claws, that meant that the Magus could control the attacks; to force, by will, the creature to attack who the Magus wanted.

  Inherent in the Familiar skill is the ability of the Magus to see what the familiar sees and hear what they hear as they experience it.

  So, he would be able to put himself into the creature, to see and hear through them in real-time.

  "Very cool," he muttered. He looked down at Bear. He briefly considered making the dog his familiar, "Nah, how often to I need to be able to see the inside of your eyelids and hear you snoring from within? I get enough of that noise as it is."

  No, he thought, I think I'd like something else. Maybe an eagle or a hawk. Something I can use to get a different perspective on the world.

  He thought he would look pretty damn cool with a bird of prey perched on his shoulder. He smiled.Wulfgar continued reading.

  In order to enact the coupling, the creature must be below ten percent of maximum health.

  "That definitely leaves you out old buddy," he muttered looking down at the dog loping alongside his horse, "I'm not sure I could bring myself to hurt you." He smiled, "And I'm pretty sure you could kick my ass."

  As he said that, he realized the reason for the health restriction. There was no mention of a level limitation on the creature, nor was there mention of a failure possibility. Without the maximum health percentage requirement, he'd be able to walk up to some hundred-some-odd level dragon and make it his familiar.

  As it was, he'd still be able to do that, he'd just have to beat it down first. The odds of him being able to bring down a creature much higher than he was, even with his friend's help, were low. He could see, though, where groups of players would seek out a high-level creature in order gain a powerful familiar for one of their sorcerers.

  "Pretty cool," said Wulfgar to the air as the group rode through the wakening day. He looked around. To the north and south, rolling verdant hills stretched as far as he could
see. To the west, the mountain range they were approaching, high-lit by the morning sun, reflected white from the upper peaks.

  He cast Illumination. For practice. The light, if any, that now surrounded him was washed out by the light of the sun. Wulfgar closed his eyes and activated Meditation.

  Wulfgar heard a slight fizzling sound. The skill failed. He nodded, half expecting the result. To meditate, he had to remain still. Apparently, riding a horse broke that rule; however statue-like he perched on the moving beast he was still being jostled enough to prevent the skill from working. Filing that bit of info away for future reference, he paused in his thoughts to take a look around himself.

  His friends were riding all around him, speaking softly among themselves of nothing of importance - simply passing the time on a pleasant ride to adventure. He looked to the west, down the road, and saw the first signs of the last village before the mountainous frontier as the tops of several buildings peeked over the low ridge-line the group was approaching. They had already decided to stop for the day once they reached the village even though it was only early afternoon. It would be their last chance, likely, to sleep in beds until they'd attempted the quest in question and returned to this little village on their way back to Edonis.

  Wulfgar smiled, looking at Lauren. He wondered if they'd share a bed again that night. He hoped so, but wasn't going to suggest it. It seemed that whatever else had changed between his real life and this virtual one, he'd lost any sense of desperation, for lack of a better term, toward the opposite sex and their charms. There was no biological imperative to breed; no social pressure to be a part of a couple; and no hormonal pressure that needed a release valve. On top of that, he really felt a sense that there was all the time in the universe - he had, he assumed, thousands of years ahead of himself in which to experience all of the joys that had, needfully, been shoved into a mere few decades in his previous life. That left him curiously at ease within himself. He wondered if that would translate to all of the aspects of his life - even the gaming ones. What need was there to power-level or grind his experience and skills when he had all of the time in the world.

  He smiled again. When playing Dungeons and Dragons, he'd always found the first ten or so levels much more interesting to play than the higher levels. There was always, he'd felt, something more satisfying about taking on a small horde of bloodthirsty low level goblins using his meager skill-set than there was once he'd become a puissant "Lord of wherever" that tangled with demons and hordes of the abyss. It was just more fun. He wondered if, in the coming years of his time in this world, he'd look fondly back on this period as his favorite.

  Wulfgar led the group as they crested the hill that sheltered the little village on the fringes of Clive's budding empire. He pulled up the reins and rested his arms across his saddle pommel as he looked down into the small town. There were several building that seemed sheltered up to and around a larger structure in the middle.

  "That's the holy site," said Lauren, reading his thoughts, "in the center. It's pretty standard for small villages to grow up around that building. The other, larger building is the inn."

  "That's where they keep the beer!" shouted Snorri happily.

  "Dibs!" shouted Rydra as he spurred his horse forward. It leapt down the hill, kicking up small clouds of dirts as its hooves dug through the soft soil of the roadway.

  "No fair!" laughed Lauren as she joined the little thief in a headlong rush into the village.

  "Dibs on beer? Can you believe the nerve?" chuckled Snorri as he clucked his horse, and the trailing pack mount, into a gentle walk down the road.

  "Heathens," nodded Wulfgar in fake solemnity moving alongside Snorri, "I've been meaning to ask, you know, someone of your ancient time in this world, about what religion I should pick."

  Snorri shrugged, then nodded, "It can be an important choice, but I wouldn't fret over it too damn much. Fundamentally, what you're looking for are the ones with benefits to your gaming style. I mean, I didn't pick Odinism just because I'm a big, blond Viking dude. I picked it because it gave me benefits that help big, blond Viking dudes. There are probably ones that benefit neurotic wussies like you."

  "Asshole," laughed Wulfgar, "and thanks."

  "There's something I've been meaning to ask you," countered Snorri, "about Lauren. What's up with you guys?"

  Wulfgar frowned in thought, "We're playing it by ear. Friends, maybe more later. Maybe not."

  Snorri nodded, "OK. I just wanted you to know, that, as her friend, if you hurt her, I hurt you. Or what's left of you after she pummels you."

  "Deal," said Wulfgar holding out his hand and shaking Snorri's, "and I promise to hurt whoever else hurts her. You know, after she's done pummeling them. So, between us, we've got her back."

  "Good. Not that she needs us, but, you know, a little chivalry feels good on occasion. As long as she doesn't hear about it."

  Wulfgar chuckled, "Yeah, she'd kick our asses." He laughed loudly, "I wonder how different the Arthurian stories would have been if Guinevere had been able to beat the shit out of Lancelot and Arthur."

  "Hell, she probably would have found the holy grail on her own and told the Lady in the Lake to shove Excalibur up her watery ass and then founded a dynasty that ruled England to this day."

  Wulfgar laughed, then reined in as his horse entered the small village square and saw Lauren and Rydra, dismounted, with their hands on their weapon hilts, standing in front of a group that blocked their access to the holy site.

  His jaw fell slack as Wulfgar saw the sneering face that countered his friends. It was a face that he'd seen very recently.

  In his dreams.

  Wulfgar lifted his left leg over his horse's neck and dropped into the dirt behind Lauren and Rydra, staring down a large group of humans. He scanned them. Most of them were heavily armed and armored, except for the one that Wulfgar assumed, from his stance, was the leader.

  The man from his dream.

  "You!" said the man, stepping forward, snarling.

  Wulfgar smirked, pretending more confidence than he felt. If the groups were at anything alike in parity in skills and levels his was in trouble; he and his friends were outnumbered. He counted quickly. Two to one. Not good.

  The man walked forward, fury building in his face as his eyes flared.

  "You," he repeated, pointing his finger at Wulfgar.

  "What?" shrugged Wulfgar. He paused, "Oh, crap. Did I say the door on the right? I meant the door on the left."

  "Yeah. I got your note." The man inched forward, leaning in toward Wulfgar.

  Oh shit. This is going down. It's going to get bad.

  Time seemed to slow for Wulfgar. Everyone, on both sides, drew the same conclusion that he had at the same time he'd come to it. This was going to resolve in blood. He walked his eyes over the other group, more slowly this time; taking them in individually.

  This was going to be a battle of behemoths. Tank versus tank. Five of the eight of them were heavies. Full plate armor. Big, spine crushing weaponry. Heavy-weights trading jaw cracking punches. It was going to be like the battle of Kursk - only one side had neglected to bring their heavy armor.

  He had Snorri, who was just dropping into the square beside Wulfgar. The big man needed no prod, he pulled a heavy double-bladed axe from its home hanging on the side of his horse. Wrapping the cord that dangled from the handle around his right wrist, he gripped the axe in his muscular hand and began tapping the haft into his left palm. The armored battalion flanking the other wizard seemed unimpressed.

  Wulfgar held up his hands, "Wait." He smiled, "I don't even know your name. Let's not let this get out of hand."

  "I've got it well in hand, thanks," smirked his opponent, "and the name's Tim."

  Snorri snorted, "Tim? Tim the Enchanter?"

  "Anyone got a holy hand-grenade?" whispered Rydra.

  "Yeah. Tim. That's my name. The name I was given at birth. You know," he sneered, "like in real life. Not this fantasy make
believe bullshit, Wulfgar," he framed the derision dripping from his voice with fingered air-quotes as he said Wulfgar's name.

  "OK, Tim," said Wulfgar turning to his friends, trying to placate them, "that's cool."

  "Like I give a shit what you think is cool or not. What are you doing in my town."

  "Your town?" asked Snorri.

  "Yeah, my town. It's got my troops all over it," he said thumbing over his shoulder toward his phalanx of heavies, "that makes it mine."

  He sneered.

  "Unless you think you can take it from me."

  "No need," said Wulfgar, "we'll be moving on."

  "No," countered Tim shaking his head, "No, you won't. You've still got a debt to pay. To me. I figure that rolls over onto your friends as well. You know, the interest on the debt."

  Tim shook his head again, "No. You owe me a life. You owe me an awakening in a temple."

  Lauren nodded, pulling her sword from the sheath on her back. She smiled up at Tim, "Do you mind if we bind first? We haven't bound at a holy site since Edonis."

  "Yes I do mind," he smiled, "and that's your problem. Not mine. I suppose your next question is if I'll let you all pull out your armor and equip it. No. It won't make a difference in the outcome and I don't feel like wasting any more time with you than necessary. We're going to kill the lot of you, loot your corpses and await your return in a couple of days after your res in Edonis. Then we'll likely do it all over again."

  "Frankly," laughed Tim over his shoulder, "we'd really appreciate it if you guys could just drop to your knees and let us go ahead and take your heads. Our beer is getting warm, and those hot little barmaids aren't going to fuck themselves."

  "Rosy might," laughed one of the tanks behind Tim.

  Tim howled, "Yeah, she just might. She's a lot of fun," he winked at Lauren.

  Wulfgar reached behind his back and unsheathed Shepherd's Bite.

  Wulfgar ducked, reflexively, as an arrow whistled by his ear, tickling his earlobe. He glanced up, past Tim's shoulder, and saw a man in an upper window of the tavern that centered the little village. As Wulfgar watched, the man reached into a quiver on his back and pulled and nocked another arrow.