by Adam Drake
We spun around to see two burned men appear through the perimeter and stop at the bottom of the mound. I recognized one of them as Shorty #1. He held his damaged wrist close to his chest and glared at me with pure hatred. With his undamaged hand, he pointed up at me and said something to his companion.
The other was bulkier than all the other burned men I'd encountered; his charred skin covering any definition of his muscular frame. In one hand he gripped what appeared to be an axe made of bone. It was larger than my club and likely more lethal. Down his left shoulder, and over his left pectoral, was a tattoo. Even against the ruin of his burned skin, it was prominent. A Mark?
“Ah, this is good,” Chak said, nodding.
“Why is this good?” The large burned man looked far more dangerous than any of his other brethren.
“He is still injured,” Chak said, indicating Shorty #1 and his shattered wrist. “That means they do not have a priest nearby to heal them. Once they're hurt, they stay hurt.” He glanced at me. “I can't tell what Mark the other one has, so be careful.”
I knew better than to ask if he was going to help.
Shorty #1 shouted at his friend, “Kill her! She's the one!”
The Big Guy suddenly bolted forward, climbing the mound.
Here we go. Not waiting for encouragement from the fat man, I moved downward to meet my eager opponent.
He growled as he ran up, but soon discovered the uneven material of the mound slowed his progress, causing him to stumble.
I carefully picked my way over the yellow crap, then realized how stupid I was being and stopped. Let him come to me; burn up all that energy doing so. Plus, I was above him. Didn't the warriors and knights of old favor the high ground?
Behind him, Shorty #1 followed, no doubt hoping to get a few hits in once I was down for the count. But I wasn't terribly worried about him; he wasn't the one armed with an axe.
As the Big Guy got closer, the mound got steeper. He huffed and puffed, his initiate burst of energy petering out. I waited, making a show of looking bored. Then, just as he got within arm's reach of me and swung his weapon, I quickly backed up.
The swing went wide, and he growled, storming after me. I continued to backpedal, allowing him to get within reach several more times. He swung when I did, and missed again when I simply stepped back.
But I couldn't keep this up forever. The mound was low, and we reached its pinnacle. Chak had backed away a fair distance down the other side, watching.
At the top, I stopped and prepared myself to fight. Big Guy, now covered in a thin sheen of sweat, growled and swung again. Despite my bravado, he managed to cut me across the chest. Blood oozed from the scratch; it hurt, but wasn't deep.
As he finished his swing, I countered with an overhand attack. But the very moment the club should have connected with his shoulder, he twisted his body out of the way, and I missed.
I was stunned. That should have hit him. I had dead to rights on him.
While I was momentarily surprised at his blinding speed, he suddenly altered tactics and swung a fist. I wasn't able to avoid it in time and he bashed me square on the nose.
Cartilage crunched and my head snapped back. For a second, I was dazed and stumbled backward. The movement saved me. He quickly followed the punch with a backhanded swing of the axe, and its blade swished through the air exactly where my neck had been a moment before.
I'd never experienced a broken nose before, and the pain was nearly blinding, but I couldn't do anything about it but fight on. Discarding all reason, and my own bodily safety, I lunged forward, club held high.
Big Guy's eyes widened at my sudden recovery, and raised his axe to block the blow. But I wasn't trying to hit him with the club. As he looked up, my knee connected hard with the hanging bits behind his loincloth.
I crashed into him as he doubled over. He staggered back, losing his footing on the incline. I shouted with glee, as he offered me the back of his neck for my club.
But as I was about to take him up on this generous offer, Shorty #1 appeared by my side. I barely registered the fact he was swinging something at me before it was too late.
He hit me right between the shoulder blades with a rock as I feebly attempted to twist away. But as I turned, I kept going, spinning three hundred and sixty degrees.
With both hands on the club, I brought it fully around at him. He had his hand up already for another attack, his face joyous at what he thought would be the final blow.
Just before my club hit, I used Bash.
I was rewarded with the sight of the weapon colliding fully with the side of his face. His head snapped to the side, and blood and teeth flew from his mouth.
As he tumbled away, I turned back to the Big Guy, who'd recovered enough from the knee to the groin to focus on me again, and who was already swinging.
His axe sliced through my left shoulder, through the muscle, and glanced off bone.
I screamed in pain, my eyes watering from the broken nose, and obscuring my vision. My instinct was to drop my weapon and grab at my gaping wound. Instead, I swung my club and, without thinking, tried to use Bash.
That ability is currently unavailable.
Big Guy was still close enough for me to connect with the swing, but, again, right when I should have got him, he somehow twisted his body enough to avoid it. The movement happened in the blink of an eye.
Why couldn't I hit this guy?
A tingle of fear blossomed deep in my chest as I made a cold realization: I was going to lose the fight.
As if to emphasis the point, Big Guy brought his axe down at my head, its blade covered in blood. My blood.
I don't know how, but I barely got my club up in time to block the strike. Our weapons struck with teeth jarring power. But the impact, causing us both to lose our grip. Club and axe suddenly bounced away to land on the ground.
Big Guy was stunned to suddenly be unarmed.
I wasn't.
Shrieking with blood-lust, I jumped up and onto him, just as I'd done to the burned man, earlier. I feared he'd do his magical twist again, and I'd miss.
But luck was on my side. I slammed into him and he pitched backward, losing footing. Wrapping my legs under his armpits and back, I latched onto his bald, burnt head with my hands. I wanted a jugular, but wasn't close enough, so I settled for what was available. With a growl, I bite hard into the bridge of his nose.
I am the weapon.
He screamed, and tried to pull me off, but lost his grip when we slammed onto the ground with him underneath.
I bit and tore and wrenched at his face. He desperately took a hold of my neck with both hands and started to strangle me.
I felt something pop beneath my jaw and I pulled, ripping away his nose and a large part of his cheek. Screaming, he released me and grabbed at the bloody ruin of his face with shaking hands.
Crazed, I spit his ragged nose down at him, then grabbed his head with both hands. As he flailed, I pressed my thumbs into his eyes.
He bucked beneath me, his death shrieks deafening.
I don't know how long I sat over him, both thumbs in his eye sockets as deep as they would go, bashing his head against the ground. But at some point, I noticed he was dead.
I slide off of him, my body slick with blood; both mine and his.
Coughing and spitting, I saw the horrific damage I'd done, but felt nothing but satisfaction. I'd won.
I blinked at this thought. What was happening to me?
Chak appeared, looking us both over, a wry grin on his face.
I knew what he was going to say even before he opened his mealy mouth.
“Good bitch,” he said.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I sat in a daze as Chak healed me. Again, I'd been reduced to a blood thirsty maniac and indulged in such grotesque savagery it boggled my mind.
Yet, it didn't bother me as much as it should have. Perhaps I was simply accepting the vile requirements needed to survive. Still, I'd done things
in the last few hours I would have never imagined in my most wildest dreams.
Or nightmares.
“You are a good weapon,” Chak said, pulling me from my dour thoughts. He'd been quietly watching me. “The Blood God will be proud when I tell him of your efforts here.”
“Oh, he will, huh?” I said, standing when the priest finished. I was whole again like nothing happened. “While you're at it why don't you mention how I want nothing to do with any of this crap. I shouldn't even be here.”
“You have been picked to be here. You are a candidate selected by the Blood God.”
I seem to recall it being the other way around. I had hurriedly selected my class and the Blood God before my arrival, not knowing what I was doing. Now I realized I should have been paying attention.
“You are aware I am here against me will, right?” I said, leveling the fat man with a glare.
He snorted. “Your will is meaningless. My will is meaningless. Only the Blood God's will is of any importance.” Turning, he pointed at the two dead burned men with his staff. “These must be disposed off. They will draw skaggs here. But first, this one has a Mark you can claim.”
Fine, change the subject, I thought. But I resolved to revisit the matter. I looked down at the Big Guy's corpse, and the bloody ruin of his face. By the stars, what had I done?
“You will need a blade,” Chak said. “Take his axe and cut the Mark from his body.”
I blinked at the directions. “Can't I just put my hands on it, like with the bones?”
“No, skin and hide cannot be salvaged. Only removed by skinning,” he said, glancing around nervously. “Now hurry!”
I sighed, but didn't argue. Yet another indignity to blight my soul.
You have taken an item: Simple Bone Axe
Durability: Usable
Damage: 2-7
Tradable
Getting on my knees next to Big Guy, I looked at the tattoo. Its strange swirly markings appeared to be tribal in origin. I held the axe over the Mark, and hesitated.
Chak grew more impatient. “Cut! Cut, woman! It must be one whole piece!”
So I did. Cutting the skin off a human being was a lot easier than you'd think, if such horrific activities ever crossed your warped mind. In a few minutes, I'd cut an outline around the entire Mark, even turning the corpse on its side to get to it all.
Finished, I asked, “Now what?”
“Pull it free, but be careful you do not tear it or it will be useless.”
The slab of skin came loose, but not without pulling tendrils of red flesh along with it. It was as if the body didn't want to give it up.
Satisfied, Chak said, “Good. There is some obsidian over there at the edge. Bring it with you.”
I had the presence of mind to tuck my club under my arm, then, with the axe in one hand and a jiggling, bloody red flap of skin in the other, I followed him.
We stood next to the slab of obsidian and I noticed the twist of an inventory stone close by.
“Place the Mark onto the slab. Let's see what we have.”
I dropped the sheet of skin onto the table with a splat, sending blood all over. Neither of us minded.
A screen appeared.
Mark of Dodge
+40% chance to Dodge skill
Claim Mark for 200 Blood Points – Yes/No?
I double checked my Blood Points. 480. I'd gotten 350 for Shorty and the Big Guy, the remainder from before.
“Claim it?” I asked, just to be certain. At Chak's curt nod, I selected yes.
The flap of skin suddenly dissolved into the obsidian and I immediately felt a light burning sensation on my left side. Twisting my head around to look, I saw the tattoo slowly appear on my shoulder. It was as if I was watching it being drawn on my flesh, one stroke at a time. In seconds, the full Mark was complete, covering my shoulder and chest down past my breast.
You have claimed the Mark of Dodge.
+40% chance to Dodge skill
Then another message appeared.
You have learned a new skill: Dodge.
This skill allows you to evade or avoid physical attacks. Additionally, an attribute bonus of +1 to Reflex will be applied for every 5% increment.
I marveled at my new tattoo. It looked... cool. Curious, I looked at my skill list.
Dodge: 41% (+8 Reflex)
My character screen also showed my Reflex was now 18, up from 10.
“Nice,” I heard myself say. For a moment, I'd forgotten how I'd earned the thing.
Chak snapped his fingers at my face, causing me to flinch. “Pay attention, woman. There is an important fact you must remember. Marks are temporary. When you die, your body is taken by the gods and sent to the Life Crystal you are bound to. The price for your resurrection is all your Blood Points and any Marks on your flesh. So don't get used to them.”
“Sounds like you expect me to die a lot,” I said, admiring my tattoo. “Don't have a lot of confidence in your new weapon?”
“Don't be stupid. Death is a constant in this Realm. It drives it. It feeds it. It makes each of its denizens thankful.”
“Thankful?” I said, arching a brow, prodding him. “Thankful for what?”
“Thankful for the gods to grant us purpose in our simple existence, by following their will until the final death.”
I blinked at the flawed logic. “How can anyone be scared of death if they're just brought back? Resurrected? Other than avoiding the potential pain of dying, why worry if you simply respawn?”
Chak's expression melted into a scowl. “We are not all granted the ability of resurrection. Only those chosen by the gods have that gift.”
Interesting. How did you know who would be brought back? And even more interesting, was Chak one of them?
But before I could quiz him further, he cracked his staff on the ground in irritation. “Enough of this blather. You have tasks to do.” He pointed at the two bodies on the mound. “Remove them quickly.”
“Remove to where?” I'd never had to think about where to dispose of a body before.
“Carry them out back onto the path we came from, and drop them out of sight. It should keep the skaggs at a distance.”
“Okay, boss,” I said. As I turned away I realized I still carried both the club and axe. The axe did more damage, so I put the club into the inventory stone alongside the other.
I hurried to the bodies and was forced to ponder the choice of dragging or carrying. Dragging would only tear them up along the ground, so I decided to carry one, selecting the Big Guy first.
Amazingly, I easily hefty his bloody corpse up and over my shoulders. I took a few tentative steps forward and found the weight easy to handle. Moving fast, I marched down the side of the mound and out into the path, all the while marveling at my strength. I'd never have been able to carry so much before.
Then it hit me. It wasn't my strength being used, but my avatar's, which was a lot stronger than I was in real life.
Shaking my head at the strangeness of the situation, I walked a short distance away from the mound and dump the Big Guy unceremoniously to the ground. A part of me felt horribly guilty for what I'd done to him, but that was quickly countered with the knowledge that none of this was real to begin with.
Back at the mound, I hoisted Shorty #1 up, finding him even lighter.
Chak was at the base of the mound on the opposite side, examining a strange looking pedestal covered in the yellow excretion. Seeing me, he fluttered a hand at me in annoyance, wanting me to hurry.
He can't be resurrected, I thought, as I marched down the hill, occasionally jumping with ease. He was like these burned men. A character that can be salvaged or taken by skaggs. Not a participant, or player. Like me.
Interesting, I thought, hurrying along the path.
Lost in thought, I turned the corner only to be confronted by a monster.
Large, grey and reptilian, the creature loomed over the corpse of the Big Guy. At first glance it resembled a moni
tor lizard, only immense in size. Its huge maw was open and a long red tongue extended from it to wrap around the bottom of Big Guy's legs. It had a pair of globular eyes which moved independent of each other. One watched the body it was pulling toward its mouth, the other fixed on me.
Did I mention it was huge? Easily four or five times the length of the Big Guy, from the tip of its wide blunt snout to the end of its thick whip-like tail.
My sudden appearance didn't even make it react other than to look at me with an eye.
Shocked, I watched transfixed as it easily pulled the Big Guy into its mouth. The body slid completely inside and vanished. The form of the corpse could be seen moving along its white, scaled, gullet.
An info screen appeared above it.
Carrion Skagg
Health: 100%
Magic: nil
Armor: 12
It had an armor stat, something I didn't. Looking over its scaly hide I could see very well why. It was like a segmented tank on four legs.
Finished with its meal, the skagg angled its other eye to me.
Uh oh. Even though it was about a dozen paces away, I didn't doubt it could close that distance fast. I took a careful step backward.
Its ropy tongue flicked out, then flopped to the ground, slithering in my direction.
You couldn't blame me for thinking I was its next intended meal.
I heaved Shorty #2's body off my shoulders and it landed a few feet away. The skagg's eyes fixated on the body, its tongue exploring it.
Not wanting to stick around to find out if it had any qualms about eating live prey, I moved back then ran. So much for salvaging the corpses for materials.
I reentered the clearing, my heart pounding. Wow. So that was a skagg. It was the reason the first set of bodies had vanished from the clearing; they'd been slurped up by a mutant crocodile.
Still a little stunned by what I'd seen, I wandered over to Chak, who was absorbed in looking over the pedestal. “Bodies are gone. Skagg ate 'em.”
“Hmm,” he said, lost in his inspection. The top of the pedestal was studded with several red rocks, like dull gems.
“I saw it,” I said, when he didn't say more. “The skagg. It was gigantic!”