by M B Reid
No, surely it’d just be a plain old rat. I checked the time while I contemplated offering to help the priestess. There wouldn’t be any good loot in it for me, but it might raise her opinion of me. It couldn’t hurt to make friends in high places.
The clock blew that thought straight out of my head though. It was ten o’clock. I’d been asleep for almost four hours!
My spine crackled as I stood up, shaking the stiffness out of my joints. My muscles ached from sitting on the hardwood pew. It frustrated me how senseless some of these game effects were. My flesh was dead, I shouldn’t feel any pain. If this was how all undead felt after sleeping away months on an icy throne I could understand why they were quick to anger. Being undead seemed to come with all the disadvantages of life, but none of the advantages.
My stomach punctuated that thought with a rumble. Maybe there were some benefits to being dead. Sure, I had to eat almost as often as the living, but I didn’t have to worry about the final step of digestion. I was not the outdoorsy sort, if I had to use a toilet I would damn well be using a toilet - not crapping in the woods with nothing but poison ivy to wipe my ass. Okay, being undead definitely had some perks.
The streets were bustling as I stepped out of the church. I had to weave between children and porters as I followed the path to the blacksmiths shop. The big banded door stood open, inviting me into the dimly lit building. A slither of smoke wisped up from the forge, but it was not accompanied by the sounds of a metallurgist at work. No doubt his operation had ground to a halt in the absence of ore. I grinned to myself as I took a mental note to drag the guy over the coals to get my payment. If he wasn’t able to work without the ore, I could make a tidy profit by providing what he needed.
With the grin still plastered to my face, I stepped into the blacksmiths.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I stepped into the dimly lit black-smithy, and the smile was wiped off my face immediately. The store looked like it had been raided. Only a few weapons hung on the racks behind the counter - those that had been locked in place with bands of iron. The bust stood naked, stripped of its platemail. A single curved horn was all that remained of the skyrim helmet, presumably it had been broken off when the thieves had taken everything. Only the peasants tools stood untouched.
The grizzled blacksmith looked pale and deflated as he sat behind the counter, combing his sausage-like fingers through his beard. The old man barely looked up as I approached.
“What’s happened here?”
“Jus’ what it looks like. She’s all gone.” He said in a slow dejected tone. He sounded how a zombie might, if it were capable of moaning for more than brains.
“I… I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“Nay boy, I’m all but sunk. Things were bad when it was just ore t’was lacking. Ain’t nothing for you… unless…” He paused, and his eyes lit up with recognition. I could practically see the light-bulb switch on in his head.
“You’re the boy as was gonna fetch me the ore!” He exclaimed, bounding to his feet. He exuded a bubble of hope as he peered at me. My grin returned.
“Yes sir, and I’ve got it all here.” I slung my backpack off my back as the old man came around to my side of the counter.
“Yer a lifesaver m’boy!” The old man shouted, slapping me on the back with a big meaty club of a hand.
I transferred the hundred chunks of ore from my inventory to his - giving him everything Logan and I had managed to gather from the kobold encampment. The old man’s eyes went wide as he accepted the transfer, and I could have sworn he was almost tearful.
“A hundred ore? I was hoping you’d get maybe twenty! This means the world to me boy, the world!”
And then the unexpected happened. The burly bearded man, who had previously seemed capable only of growling and grumbling, swept me off my feet with an enormous hug.
“I can rebuild everything with this!” He announced, setting me back on the ground.
“You’re welcome” I managed, before he blundered around to his side of the till again.
“God bless ye boy. Whatever you want is yours” He gestured at the wall behind him and his elation dissipated.
“Wha’s left of it anywho”
I surveyed what remained on the wall. The few weapons didn’t look that appealing, not compared to the scimitar that hung at my hip. There was one shield left however, and it sang to me. It was shaped like a kite, each of the four quarters painted either red or white in an alternating pattern. It was held to the wall by thick iron bands across the top and bottom. Scratch marks marred the edges of the bottom band, as if the thieves had struggled against it before giving up.
“What about that shield?” I asked.
“For you, boy? I ain’t got no problem with that.” He fished around under the till and withdrew an odd looking key. Without saying a word he wandered over to the shield and slid the key into a tiny cylindrical hole in the bottom band. The band sprung open with a loud twang, and the old man deftly caught the shield as it fell off the wall. The wood behind the shield was a darker colour than the surrounding wall, indicating that it must have been up there for years.
“’Twas my fathers last work” The blacksmith said wistfully as he handed me the shield. I took it with both hands. It was heavy, and up close it was clear it was well crafted. Perhaps not a masterwork, but definitely not the work of a journeyman smith.
“I will honour it.” I heard myself say, paying more attention to the shield. The back side was well cushioned, the handle angled slightly so that I would be able to put my entire weight behind it in combat. A prompt appeared as I inspected it.
Davenport Shield
Level 4 Shield
Grants [Shield Bash] and [Shield Charge] abilities.
“I’m sure you will. He’d a been thankful for what you’ve done” The blacksmith smiled, giving the shield one last look.
“I feel like that shield ain’t payment enough. Is there anythin’ else I can make ya?”
“Not now, but thank you. Maybe once I’ve got some coin I’ll be back” I smiled to the old man, then bid him farewell.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I made my way back through town to Eddards bar, Dora’s. The morning sun was pleasant even through the cloak, and I was sorely tempted to take it off and feel the warmth on my skin. With the flesh meld spell active I was certain I wouldn’t start a riot, but I had no idea when the spell would wear off. Ritual casting was as much art as it was science, and it was all but impossible to judge the effectiveness of ingredients. The dead man in the dungeon was relatively fresh, but I wasn’t sure how long that would make the spell last. As I made my way through town I resolved to ask Eddard why his bar was named Dora’s. I was sure the man had a story to tell there.
As expected the doors were open as I approached. It was as quiet as the other morning when I’d been here, and I half expected to see Warren in a hooker-induced stupor inside. What greeted me was an empty room. Even the women were absent, probably still sleeping off the nights activities. Eddard stood behind the bar, playing some sort of card game by himself. It would have made more sense if the place had been closed. I heard a moan from upstairs, clearly at least one hooker was open for business.
“Morning” Eddard nodded to me, looking a little embarrassed that I’d caught him playing his game.
“Good morning” I beamed. The day had gone well for me so far, and I expected it to improve immensely in the near future.
“I’ve got some teeth for you” I announced, reaching into my pocket.
The bartender gave me his full attention now, and a look of genuine curiosity painted itself across his face.
“Do you now? And what sort of teeth might they be?” He winked.
I dumped my collection of kobold teeth onto the bench in front of him. Most were yellowed and speckled with dried blood. Half of them were rotted or riddled with holes. Of what remained, there were a few that were stained a strange green. It almost seeme
d to border on fluorescent. Eddard picked one of these up to examine it, then chuckled quietly.
“Visionweed. Never knew a kobold to smoke it.” He explained, returning the green tooth to the pile.
“You’ve done well lad. Looks like a whole tribe worth. Good hunting?”
“Very. Unusual though. They weren’t all kobolds.” I said, fishing around in my pocket for the teeth I’d taken from the rat monster. They clattered on the bench beside the others, almost twice their size and stained brown and yellow.
“What have we here?” Eddard mused, picking them up to examine them. He hummed and harred to himself for a while, then fixed his steely eyes on me.
“What are they lad?” He looked like he might have an idea, but wanted me to confirm it.
“A rat monster. As tall as me, had this sword” I indicated the scimitar sheathed on my hip.
“Ratkin” Eddard corrected.
“Used to be hundreds of them around here, maybe ten years back. A bit less perhaps. We drove ‘em out, no ones heard of them since.” He seemed to be musing to himself as much as explaining to me. His eyebrows were furrowed with concern.
“Can’t be good. Not at all. Tell you what, I’ll give you a hundred gold for the kobolds, and an extra ten for the ratkin. If they’ve come back we might have a culling on our hands. Let me talk to some people, there could be some coin in it for you. That is, if you’re interested?” He fished around beneath the bar to find the gold coins.
“Keep me posted” I said. If there were going to be bounties for killing things, I might as well sign up for all of them. I’d need all the money I could find to get food for Logan and I, especially if I was the only one who could safely come into town.
Eddard slid a stack of coins across the table to me. I dumped them into my pockets, letting the game inventory system manage them appropriately. I didn’t really know if I’d made good money or not, but it was enough to top off our supplies. For now, as long as we could keep ourselves fed we were doing alright.
“Did you take any of their hides?” Eddard asked
“What for?”
“Crafting.” He looked at me like I was an idiot for a long moment.
“Most decent armour requires monster parts to craft. Kobold leather isn’t the most luxurious thing in the world, but its hardy and waterproof. Waylan could have used it to make some bags or something, I’m no expert.” He nodded toward the new shield on my arm.
“He must consider you a friend if he sold you that. You should ask him if you want to learn more about crafting, he’ll steer you right.” Eddard winked again.
I felt like an idiot. Of course there was more that I could have looted. Hell, if I was manually pulling teeth I could probably manually extract anything from them. Kobold leather made a sort of sick sense, they were scaly creatures after all. In the real world crocodile leather had been all the rage for a while. Why wouldn’t the humans of Liorel skin and wear another sentient race?
Before I could dwell on that particular moral dilemma for long the church bell began to toll. It wasn’t the gentle chime of a Sunday morning though, this was a frantic war cry. A warning that something was going horribly wrong.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Sunlight stabbed at my eyes as I stepped out of the bar. People were running away from the bridge gate. A group of women made their way toward the church as men armed themselves with whatever was nearby. A few burly lumberjacks were already running toward the gates, cutting axes gripped tightly in their hands.
I joined the fray, running toward the gate as quickly as my legs would carry me. I had no idea what we’d be facing, but I couldn’t sit idly by while others fought.
The great wooden gates stood open, looking like no guard had bothered to try to close them. A stream of kobolds ran through, their ranks reaching as far back as the bridge itself. At a rough count, there must be close to thirty of the lizardfolk attacking. The lumberjacks leapt into action, hacking with fury rather than skill. The nearest kobolds met them head on.
The lizardfolk clubs were no match for the onslaught of axes.
I circled around brawling group and focused my attention on four kobolds that were breaking away from the main army. I summoned up a small amount of mana, and horns sprouted from my skull, granting me additional speed to charge towards the attackers. My horns skewered the first of them through the spine, wiping out a large chunk of his health and tackling him to the ground. His battered body slipped off my horns as he tumbled, allowing me to trample over him and swing at the next kobold with my scimitar.
Realising they were under attack, the remaining three stopped running to face me. My scimitar cleaved through the throat of the first, ending him with a single blow. That strength bonus was making itself known.
The other two attacked me at once. My new shield slid into position to catch their blows without conscious thought. The two kobold clubs bounced off the shield, my health dropping by just a few points. I launched into a counterattack, spinning so that my shield was between me and one kobold as I slashed at the other with my blade.
The scaly creature was still reeling from the attack I’d blocked. Its club was raised above its head, ready to smash down on my shield again. My scimitar carved through its exposed belly. Blood flowed freely as the kobold dropped to its knees.
Another blow bounced off my shield as the last kobold on its feet attacked. Fear danced in its eyes as I approached, keeping my shield between us. It was readying another strike, but seemed to be biding its time. The poor creature must have realised that attacking me with my shield up wouldn’t achieve anything.
Trying a different tactic, I hoisted my shield a little higher and charged. The knowledge for the skill came to me unbidden, and seemed to imbue my clumsy steps with talent. One moment I was rushing with my shield upright, the next I was unleashing an honest-to-gods Shield Charge. My mana dropped as my attack increased in speed. Every step I covered seemed to add more power to my legs.
The kobold took a desperate swing at me, his club clanging harmlessly against my shield. I crashed into him, the shield crunching bone as it collided with his face. The blue creature dropped its club as it fell to the ground, a small circle of stars hovering above its head. Had I just dazed it?
I stepped forward and impaled the defenceless mob. As it died, something crunched against the back of my head. I stumbled forward, noting my health dropping as stars began to dance before my eyes. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I spun around to face my attacker, seeing the bloodied kobold that I had knocked over during my initial charge. He was raising his club above his head to strike again, but I couldn’t coordinate my limbs to do anything. All I could do is watch as, through the floating stars in my vision, he began to swing down on me.
The blow caught me in the shoulder, knocking my scimitar out of my hand. My vision cleared, indicating that the dazed effect had passed. My body was under my control again. Ignoring the scimitar on the ground, I stepped in close and smashed at the kobold with my shield, activating the Shield Bash ability. The kobold was knocked backwards, dead before it even hit the ground.
With my foes finished I turned my attention back to the fight at the gate.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The handful of self-elected militia were holding the gate. Despite the odds, the kobolds hadn’t pushed any further into the town. The only group that had broken off from the main kobold attack lay dead at my feet.
A woman screamed bloody murder nearby, the sound coming from the church. I glanced between the church and the gate, looking backwards and forwards between them as I tried to decide what to do. The townsfolk seemed to be keeping the kobolds at bay for now, but they weren’t recovering any ground, so the tide could change at any moment. The screams from the church though… they sounded like civilians being attacked.
I sprinted for the church.
Another scream rose above the din of battle, echoing through the church before reverberating out the doors
towards me. It pitched higher for a second then went silent, sending a shiver down my spine. That was one dead civilian, no doubt about it. Others were screaming now, the high pitched wails of women and children in distress.
I burst through the door, shield held high. The civilians were gathered in a small circle in the middle of the main room, surrounded by the wooden pews. At the far end, by the altar, a womans headless corpse was slumped on the ground. Standing behind it, holding a bloody knife, stood the ugliest creature I’d ever seen.
It wasn’t a kobold, that much was obvious. It stood about five feet tall, with the long pointed face of a rodent. A slender tail coiled on the ground near its feet. Patches of brown fur sprouted randomly over an otherwise naked and wrinkly pink body. Even as I watched it raised its bloody dagger and hacked at the corpse again, sending a fresh spurt of blood across the room. The monsters beady eyes settled on me and it shrieked in a high-pitched chatter, loud enough to overwhelm the screams and moans of the civilians.
Something skittered behind me, the sound like dancing spiders on a chalk board that I had heard when I’d woken on the pews. I spun away from the murderous beast at the altar just in time to block an attack from behind. A ratkin had scampered up behind me. This one was covered in short brown hair that stood out stiffly, like the hairs of a tarantula. Up close its teeth looked like little daggers filling its mouth.
I activated Shield Bash and knocked the creature back a few steps, buying me time to better assess the situation. Besides the creature at the altar and the one attacking me, there was another ratkin in the middle of the room. It seemed torn between attacking me and feasting on the civilians.