by Charles Dean
“I’m telling you: it wasn’t me. Just ask anyone. I've never helped a single one of those dirty-blooded bastards in my life, and anyone you ask will back that claim up.”
Lee was in a difficult spot. Half of him really wanted to tell the guard exactly what he wanted to hear, that he had gotten the food from the guard who brought him to the cell earlier. If Lee corroborated the accusation on top of the fact that the guard had no other explanation, it was likely to land the jerk in trouble. It would only be a small blow, but it would give him some small satisfaction to know that this guy was suffering because of him. However, Lee decided to hold back on that impulse. If he followed through, it would be terribly short-sighted. He would inadvertently invite skepticism as to the nature of his earlier ‘miracle’ with the food, a racket he was currently trying hard to sell. He didn't know how pressed for time he actually was, and he didn't want to risk undermining any of the activities that could potentially generate Faith points.
On top of that, there was also an even worse possible outcome: he might be seen as somebody who cooperated with the guards against the prison inmates, people whom Lee had a feeling he would be stuck with for quite a long time. Still, despite that, he couldn’t help smiling and giving the guy a wink, which the accusing guard couldn't see, just to make him sweat.
“Hmph. Maybe I'll actually look into this and see exactly what type of character you are. Sympathizers aren't welcome here. If the captain finds out that you're one of them, your fate will end up worse than his,” the accuser sneered. “You better pray that I don't find anything out, or it's your head before his.”
“Then I have nothing to worry about because you won't find anything out. My slate is clean.”
Lee interjected, not hiding his distaste for them or their conversation. He said, “If you gents are going to spend the entire afternoon arguing, then how about you give me my weapon, open the door and let me get out into the arena so that I don’t have to listen to you squabble back and forth like a couple arguing over who gets to keep the dog in the divorce.”
“What did you say?” The guard that had escorted Lee from the cell turned and struck him across the face, shaving off 5 hit points. He was now back at 194 hit points after his little break, a small amount of regen and a lot of mana cycling, so the blow wasn’t as devastating as it might have been before he was taken to the cell. It wasn’t a lot--certainly not an amount he’d ever be comfortable having given the last few fights--but it was still a big enough buffer between him and death that he wasn’t worried about instantly croaking from a blow unless an imp blew up in his face again.
Against his better instincts, Lee goaded the Firbolg even further. “Hey, don’t hurt the merchandise,” he pressed with a laugh. “You wouldn’t want to scuff my beautiful face before I have to perform.”
“You little--” The guard hit him again, drawing another 5 points of damage and causing a cut on Lee’s face as the pokey part of one of the man’s buckles struck his cheek. “Watch your tone when you’re talking to your betters.”
“Betters?” Lee laughed as he took a finger and drew it across the cut, using some of his remaining 12 mana points to boost himself up to 203 hit points and remove the cut at the same time. He gave the guard his most wicked grin as he performed this little act of defiance. “Could you point one out for me? I can’t seem to find any.”
The guard’s eyes flared up in anger, and he was just about to hit Lee again when someone called out and stopped him. The passive guard from last time, Oran, the only person who hadn’t entered the conversation yet, called out. “Stop! You can hit him all you want when the sun sets, but until then, he takes his licks on the sand. Be professional, and don’t forget yourself. Our job is to satisfy the paying customer, not our own animal urges.”
While Lee was rather happy not to be struck again, he knew that this particular matter wasn't over yet. He knew that the guard would try to get revenge on him later and that being interrupted now had just worsened things for him. Lee didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but it felt really good to act so obnoxiously arrogant to these particular guards. “Right. I’ve got a performance to give, adoring fans waiting to see my much nicer face after having to look at ugly mugs like yours all day long, so please point me to the weapons rack so I can arm myself and go put on a show.”
“You know, this won’t help you convert any of them,” Augustus said in Lee’s head.
Convert them? I’ll deal with that later. They’re just lucky that I can’t get away with killing them right here and now. Lee didn’t let his anger show as he put on his best award show smile.
“Arm yourself? How many points does he have again?” the guard who had hit him asked.
“He has thirty, which is enough for a steel weapon,” Oran responded.
“Great, then. Quaid, give him only iron. Don’t let him spend a single point on steel. I think that will be a good start at teaching this rat his place in the gutters,” the higher-ranking guard said.
“Fine, if you insist.” Quaid, as the guard who had been the biggest pain in Lee’s neck was apparently called, looked rather ticked off at this development. “Then we’ll do it your way, but that Spiddlendra is about to hit the sands, and he needs to be there first for dramatic suspense.”
“Then do your job! I’m off, and I better not hear about you giving him any food again!” The guard let loose a salvo of saliva as he shouted this warning before he angrily stormed off.
“Dang, that guy really needs some bacon,” Lee laughed. “Too bad I don’t have any on me.”
“What?” Quaid asked. “Stop talking to yourself and pick a weapon. You want a halberd, a sword, a dagger? What you need?”
Lee looked over all the weapons. He was comfortable with both swords, daggers, and unarmed combat, but he was very tempted by some of the other weapons on display. He saw a bow and a quiver of arrows that he thought might be useful, and he spied a halberd, a spear, and a buckler designed to go with a spear that he also thought might be good. He was tempted by many of the other options as well, especially the flail, but in the end, he decided to stick with the sword and shield. So long as he didn’t go against an enemy with heavy-plate-style armor, it would be a good option.
“I'll take the long sword and the shield then,” Lee said, reaching for the two.
“Fine, but iron only,” Quaid said, stepping over before Lee could grab the steel weapons. He handed Lee the worst-looking medium-sized shield and sword on the racks. The sword had a ding in it, and when Lee went to inspect it, the description read ‘Damaged Long Sword.’ It had 10 damage, which was still rather impressive for a long sword, considering the previous one-handed weapons he had come across on average seemed to do only 8 to 9 damage at best. Steel swords always did more than iron, but the iron ones were easy to find, and when it came to arming people at Satterfield for a worst-case scenario in which the town was attacked, Lee had wanted to go the steel route but settled on iron due to its cheap and abundant nature. The shield was also better than the one he had previously been using.
Shields had an armor score of their own. It was something Lee hadn’t thought to check when he first came to the world, assuming all shields would roughly just block what was in front of them, but he had learned the hard way what happened when its breaking point was exceeded. Each part of the shield was able to take damage equivalent to its armor score, which, for this particular shield, was 108. He had discovered that shields would actually break once the damage was exceeded, but the final blow would still be reduced by roughly two times the shield’s score. His new 108 armor shield, for example, would block all but 84 damage from a 300-damage attack, such as an imp exploding point-blank.
“Good choice. Perfect for a rodent,” the mouthy guard snapped at him. “A good wooden wall to hide behind. Should we drill a hole in there for you to sneak your cheese through?”
“I mean, do you have any cheese for me?” Lee asked, ignoring the obvious insult. Don’t worry, Little
Ethan. Rodents are awesome. Especially flying ones.
“Just shut up and get in there,” the guard grumbled angrily, opening the door and shoving Lee through impatiently.
Lee was actually hoping that his enemy would be a person--a Firbolg who hated Humans, preferably--and that fact disturbed him. People had two arms, two legs and generally all fought within a range of common techniques and generally used a limited range of weapon types. Given the practice he had fighting people, they would probably be a whole lot easier to deal with than a never-before-encountered monster with bizarre physiology, an unknown range of motion and unpredictable offensive capabilities. Of course, the fact that it’d be easier to imagine the face of that guard on a humanoid opponent also helped. The thought hung in his mind as the gate open, and he was actually a bit relieved when his opponent turned out to be a monster, even though that presented him with more unknowns in the impending fight. Why the hell would I want to take a person’s life just because I’m pissed and don’t want to deal with the hassle of fighting a monster again? Lee kicked himself mentally for that line of thinking. Then he strolled toward the middle of the arena, keeping his head just high enough to see over the shield and prepared to jump in any direction at a moment’s notice.
He didn't have a clue what this monster was, but he knew that he didn't want to be unprepared when it struck out at him. It wasn't very large compared to some of the creatures he had fought, but it had the rough shape and look of a centipede, a multitude of crawly legs and gross exoskeleton included, and Lee found it intimidating. He swallowed as he watched it crawl toward him across the sand, the hundred little legs sounding off in a highly-unnerving rat-a-tat. Each leg was about the size of his shin, and they hurriedly brought the fifteen-foot-long body toward him. Even more unpleasant were its two sharp, blade-like arms, each likely five feet long, which the creature used to pull itself toward Lee even faster than the legs could carry it alone.
The creature stopped when it was about twenty feet away and raised the front half of its body into the air, swaying back and forth as it fought to support its massive weight. Then, the creature’s face split in half horizontally to reveal two sets of mouths, and a spike suddenly shot out at Lee.
Yup, the shield is always the best! Lee wasn't fast enough to move out of the way completely, but he was still able to move his body so that if the spike pierced through the shield, his vital organs wouldn't become kebabs on the other side of him. After a thud let Lee know that the damage was done, he lowered his guard to look at the creature. The monster seemed to smile grotesquely, its face splitting open even wider before launching a full volley of spikes toward him. Lee grimaced, but since the shield had blocked the first hit, he decided to put more faith in it as he charged toward the monster.
Perfect, Lee thought as the shield proved its worth. Then, as Lee reached the demonic centipede, a flash of inspiration hit him. He faked an advance the same way Ling had often done against him in sparring bouts and grinned to himself as the creature took the bait, swiping its two massive arms down toward him. The monster stood a full foot higher off the ground than he did, and it put a good amount of its weight behind the two blows. Having anticipated the attack, Lee caught its arms on the spikes that had been planted into his shield.
“What is that cledor rat trying to do?” one of the guards asked.
Lee turned his shield, shifting the creature’s arms to the side, and then took another step forward, slamming all of his weight behind his shield and driving it forward into the monstrous centipede’s body. Not only did the spiky shield slam appear to rack up damage--Lee felt the series of bone-hard points dig through the centipede’s exoskeleton--but it also pinned the centipede’s left arm between his shield and its body.
The Spiddlendra frantically tried to grab Lee with its right arm, but he somehow managed to maneuver his legs and torso out of the way each time it snapped at him, avoiding its grasp by mere inches. The monster pulled back, trying to yank the arm free, and Lee allowed himself to be carried along. He continued pushing forward when the beast tried to stop, and this time, he shoved his sword forward into the joint between two of the centipede’s many rings.
The giant insect squealed as Lee pulled sideways, separating the two rings and yanking the hideous creature forward. He vaulted over on top of its back as soon as the centipede hit the ground, lifted up his shield and slammed its bottom edge down into the creature over and over again in quick succession. The monster cried out helplessly, squirming about and thrashing from side to side, but Lee refused to stop. The taste of victory was in his mouth, and unlike every fight he had had before, this one had yet to come with a price tag, so he attacked as fast and hard as he could, praying he could kill the big, ugly bug before it had a chance to throw him off.
As he kept smashing his shield down onto the creature and stabbing into it with his word, the monster’s high-pitched screams got quieter and quieter until he eventually saw the message he was hoping for:
You have killed a Spiddlendra. Your party has been awarded a Spiddlendra carapace and 1208 Experience. Your share of this is 1 Spiddlendra carapace and 302 Experience.
You have learned the rare combat skill Blood Shield. This skill is currently at Initiate Level 1. It is often said that the best defense is a good offense and that a shield is one of the best offensive tools a soldier can use. Through unorthodox use of the shield, your skills with the tool have improved, and your reflexes have improved when both blocking and assaulting enemies with the shield.
You have been awarded 2 Intelligence for discovering a new skill without the assistance of class trainers or a manual. Current Intelligence: 140.
Lee took a deep breath to let his nerves calm down as he slid off of the corpse and surveyed at his latest kill. This is just what I needed. Lee grinned ear to ear as he studied the carcass. A small part of him was able to understand how Miller was so desperate to inflict pain and destruction on something. It was the same feeling he had felt only moments ago.
“Come on!” Lee demanded of the crowd as he looked up at the people in the stands. “At least give me a few cheers!” The crowd had been nothing but Firbolgs, Leprechauns and only one or two Humans that morning, but now it was at least thirty percent Humans, and most of them were at the front of the stadium watching. He recognized some of them as people from the bars he had visited the night before.
“It’s really him! He’s really amazing!” one of the Humans said. He had the golems move through the crowd while he was fighting, not only looking for new potential targets to rob for food, but also trying to keep an accurate count on the gates, the guards, and how hard it would be to potentially break out in the future.
“I can’t believe he did it. He didn’t even get hurt,” another one of the Humans gasped.
“Psh! He’s just a Human. How special can he be?” one of the Firbolgs grumbled.
“Well, when is the last time we saw a Firbolg fight one of the Spiddlendras without taking a single hit? That was a flawless victory, and he was under-geared, and you know it!” a Human spat back.
“Ugh. Don’t get cocky. It was a lucky round, nothing more. He won’t last another,” another the Firbolg grumbled.
“Lucky round, huh? I think I’d like to get lucky one round with him. The way he fought . . . it was so . . . so dreamy . . .” A Firbolg girl who didn’t look to be a day over twenty leaned against the railing in front of her, right next to the old-looking Firbolg who had just tried to jinx Lee with bad luck.
“Don’t say that. What is wrong with you? He’s a cledor,” the old man next to the girl complained. “I’m not going to let you watch these vermin fight again if this is how you behave.”
“You misheard me, father. I didn’t say anything!” the girl lied, and even though it was clearly a falsehood, Lee could tell from the man’s facial expression and nod that he was ready to believe it wholeheartedly.
So, I have groupies--and Firbolg groupies at that! Lee tilted his head back and lau
ghed.
“Stop right there,” someone said, suddenly drawing his attention away from spying on the crowd. He whipped his head back and forth as he searched for the speaker, only to realize that the command wasn’t being directed at him--it was being spoken to Little Ethan.
“I know what you are, and I know who your master is,” the man continued. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of letters that appeared to be four or five deep. Lee automatically knew that each had been written by a different person from just a glance at the handwriting. “I need you to deliver these to your master on my behalf.”
Lee hesitated. So, he knows that I am in charge of Ethan, but he doesn't seem to know that talking to Ethan is the same as talking to me. He had the mouse nod its tiny head before grabbing the papers out of the man’s hand. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect since the golem he was using didn’t have any food in his stomach at the moment. Ethan stood on his two rear legs, fold the papers in half, rolled them up, and shoved them down its throat. It must have been a strange sight for the man to witness, but Lee had no other way of delivering them without potentially losing them or ruining the writing on the little notes
He was especially curious what the letters said, but he knew that he would have to wait until later to find out. He could have read them through Ethan’s eyes, but he didn’t want to give away any more of his tricks than the man already knew.
“So, what am I fighting next?” Lee asked, turning back to the guards at the gate. He could see their opposing emotions on their faces. The guard who had first given him a pair of shoes and stuck up for him earlier when he was getting struck, Oran, was actually smiling as he stared at Lee. The other, however, was shooting daggers out of his eyes faster than the Spiddlendra’s spines had shot out and struck his shield.