Battleborne

by Dave Willmarth

  Stone Dragon’s Scale

  Weight: .05lbs

  Attributes: ??

  The moment he cast the spell, the scale glowed with a faint purple aura. Max looked at Red. “Purple glow?”

  “That generally means an epic weapon or armor piece, or crafting material.”

  That was all Max needed to hear. He quickly dropped the scale into one of his last few remaining inventory slots, and resumed his search. Though this time he used his steel boots to sweep the grass aside, not wanting to cut his hands any more.

  He’d just located and stowed his eighteenth dragon scale when something else caught his eye. At the base of one of the broken ribs, there were several shards of bone. One of them was at least two feet long, with a sharp point on one end. He lifted it up, holding the thick end in one hand, and made a few thrusting motions. “This would make a cool dagger.” he mused, casting Examine again.

  Stone Dragon bone splinter

  Weight: 2lbs

  Durability: Adamantine

  Attributes: ??

  “What is adamantine?”

  Red pointed to the makeshift dagger in his hand. “Adamantine is a rare metal. But in this case, it probably means unbreakable, or very nearly so. I doubt this dragon had metal bones.”

  “So these might make for decent crafting material. I could make this into a dagger, and some of these smaller pieces could be… arrowheads or smaller knives, or something.” He took a knee and began to gather them up as quickly as he could. When he was done, he shook his head. “That’s it, my inventory is full. Is there a way I can mark this spot on my map? I want to come back here at some point, and gather more.”

  Red looked exasperated for a moment, then waved a hand. “Pull up your map. I took the liberty of marking the spot for you.”

  Max gave her a questioning look when he noted the emphasis in her words. Opening up his map, he zoomed in as tightly as he could, which narrowed the view to an area that barely encompassed the entire dragon corpse. He saw a bright red X mark near where he’d been standing at the center of the chest cavity. He also saw a green dot about five paces away, next to the rib where he was currently standing.

  After looking back and forth, and then at Red, who was now standing on his shoulder with her arms crossed, Max took the hint. He walked back over to the spot of the X, and used the walking stick to poke around in the grass. Half a minute later, there was a tinging sound, as if he’d struck a piece of thick glass. Taking a knee again, he very carefully dug in the soft dirt with his hands. When his claws struck a hard object, he cleared the dirt from around it, and stared until a description came up.

  Dragonstone

  Item Quality: Epic

  Weight: 5lbs

  Attributes: ??

  “I’m getting a little tired of seeing question marks in these descriptions.” Max lifted the stone from the earth, turning it over and over in his hands. It appeared to be a gemstone, about the size of a cantaloupe, smokey grey to its core. Despite being in the cold ground, the stone felt slightly warm in his hands.

  “What does this thing do? Is it valuable?” He asked Red, who made a show of pressing her lips together, then turning an imaginary key to lock them. Rolling his eyes at her, he answered his own question. “Of course it’s valuable. Maybe I’ll ask the dwarves about it when we get there.” He stowed the gemstone in his dwarven pack, since his inventory was full. If he found anything else interesting, he was going to have to start discarding items from his inventory to make room.

  As it turned out, there was one more thing he deemed worthy of picking up. It was just as he was reaching the far side of the battlefield. Off to his right he noticed a large animal skull big enough to belong to an elephant, but shaped much more like a canine. After poking around, he found a lengthy wooden tube with what had probably been a leather wrapping long ago. He carefully lifted the tube, tilting it first one way, then the other. There was a dull thump as something slid up and down inside. Finding the seam near one end, Max pulled that end off, and peered inside.

  There was a bundle of oiled cloth. The oil smelled horrible, as if it were a combination of fish oil and rancid rendered fat. Not wanting to touch the cloth, he upended the tube and dumped it onto the grass. Then he used his belt knife to unravel the cloth, exposing a leather scabbard with a sword handle sticking out one end, and he stared at what was inside for a few seconds.

  War Leader’s Sword

  Item Quality: Epic

  Durability: 500/500

  Attributes: Strength +4; Constitution +4; Command Authority Aura

  This sword was crafted by a dwarven master smith as part of a peace offering to the war leader of an orcish army that had been threatening invasion of the dwarven kingdom. The Command Authority aura was imbued into the blade, allowing its wielder to boost the morale of their troops by +10. In addition, once per day, the war leader can extend the aura and inspire wavering or retreating fighters to take heart and charge. Restriction: Weapon can only be wielded by a leader of twenty five troops or more.

  “This is… wow.” Max felt a little tingling in his belly, a physical desire to take the sword in hand and wield it in battle! But the weapon’s war leader restriction meant he couldn’t use it.

  “Maybe if I return it to the dwarves? Might be useful to them.” He mused. Taking the dirty leather goblin loincloths from his inventory, he dropped them on the ground and put the sword into that slot. “Okay, enough. Time to go.”

  Max knew the moment he’d left the battlefield because the red damage notifications quit scrolling across his view. The Grave Digger debuff faded away, and his troll regen quickly brought him up to one hundred percent.

  Best he could figure based on his map, the battle had covered nearly a half-mile stretch of the road. He found himself wondering if it had just been the orcs versus the dragon in a running fight, or whether the dwarves had been involved as well, and there had been so many soldiers involved that the front was a half mile wide. The weapons and other metal gear he’d recovered were mostly too deteriorated for him to be able to guess who made it. But the fact that the epic sword had seemed to be still giftwrapped when it was dropped, instead of in the war leader’s hand, suggested that at least one dwarf had been on his way to deliver the offering.

  As he walked, he asked Red a few questions. “Tell me about currency in this world. Like, if I wanted to sell that sword, what would it be worth?”

  “I’m not sure, exactly. But certainly a few thousand gold coins. It can only be sold to a war leader, so a clan chief or a military officer of some kind. And they generally have the funds and the willingness to part with them for something like that. Just the aura ability could turn the tide of a battle.”

  “Alright, let’s start small. If I want to buy a meal at a tavern?”

  “At your average roadside inn or tavern, ten coppers or so. A room for the night should be around one silver coin, and would include a meal. Of course there are inns that charge more. The more expensive the room, the cleaner the bed is likely to be. But with skin like yours, you don’t have to worry about fleas or bedbugs.”

  Though he could tell her comment was meant to get a reaction from him, Max didn’t flinch. He’d slept in the field so many times as a soldier that fleas, ticks, even leeches were commonplace to him. “So I have enough funds for a night in a decent inn, and a couple of meals. That should give me time, once we reach the dwarven city, to sell some of this junk.”

  “Just remember, dwarves love to haggle. Even more than most of the other races. It’s like a small battle for them. So never take the first offer they give you. Or the third. They’ll expect you to fight back, and will respect you more for it.”

  “Good looking out. Thank you, Red.” Max started to reach up and pat her head, stopping when he remembered she was just a ghost. Or… projection? Not solid.

  Max decided to test his endurance a bit, and increased his pace to a jog. His body felt strong, his long legs eating up the miles, his brea
thing steady and measured. He found himself actually enjoying the run, which was a new thing for him. He’d always hated running as a human.

  The miles passed, and he could see the tower he’d spotted from up on the ridge growing closer. But he’d sorely underestimated the distance. What he’d thought was maybe five or so miles was now looking more like ten.

  Midday was approaching, and the sun was getting high in the sky. The gear he was wearing was beginning to make him sweat. Spotting another small stream, Max decided to take a break and cool off, get some food in his belly.

  Taking a seat on the stream bank, in the shade of an elder tree that leaned out over the water, he removed everything but his loincloth. A quick dip in the cool water had him feeling much better, his feet, especially. Being inside those steel boots without any socks while jogging was causing some discomfort. Not to mention a funky odor that had him wishing for standard issue foot powder.

  Leaning back against the tree trunk, he produced one of the wolf steaks and began to gnaw on it. Still surprised by its warmth after more than a day, he didn’t bother retrieving a plate, knife, and fork from his dwarven pack. Licking the grease off his fingers every once in a while, he amused himself by making some growling nom nom! noises while ripping off chunks of meat with his teeth.

  Red made a disgusted face at him. “Savage. I’m going to return and recharge for a while. Think you can survive without me?”

  “I’ll do my best. Have a nice nap.” Max said with his mouth full. He gave a little wave and watched her fade from sight. Finished with his meal, Max went full feral and crawled on hands and knees the short distance back to the stream, where he leaned down to drink directly from the water. The water didn’t taste as sweet as the waterfall pond, but it was cool and clean. Letting out a sigh, he was staring at his own reflection, getting used to the new face staring back at him, when movement flashed behind him.

  Instinct kicked in, and he rolled to one side. A spiked club smashed into the water where he’d just been crouching. Max continued his roll, using his body’s momentum and great strength to get to his feet. In front of him was an angry creature that had to be an orc. He backed up a few steps, trying to get to his axe or hammer, which were both sitting under the tree with his other gear.

  Orc Scout

  Level 4

  Health: 500/500

  The orc growled something at him, complete gibberish to Max. He held up his empty hands in a sign of peace, hoping the scout might be willing to talk.

  The orc was not willing to talk.

  He stepped forward, using his momentum to add power to an overhead swing of the club. The weapon was about four feet long, narrow at the handle, and at least eight inches wide at the business end, with iron spikes sticking out a few inches down.

  Max hopped backward, feeling the displaced air as the club passed inches from his face to smash into the ground, one of the spikes embedding itself into the earth. Max instantly pushed forward, lowering his shoulder and tackling the orc before he could free his weapon. Both combatants grunted at the impact, Max’s great weight and momentum causing the orc to lose his grip on the weapon and fall backward. Its hands now free, the orc wrapped his arms around Max’s torso and pulled him down to the ground, squeezing tight with bulging arms.

  Max landed atop the orc, causing it to groan in pain. Max thought he heard a few ribs crack with the impact. He took a deep breath as the orc tried to squeeze the life out of him with brute strength. Rolling to one side and wrapping his legs around the orc’s, he dropped them both into the stream, the grappling pair sinking below the surface. Max and his stonelike bones dragged them down, and he relaxed as much as he could without letting go. Straining against his enemy would only burn oxygen. He was counting on having more of it than the orc, who hadn’t been prepared to plunge into the water.

  The scout continued to thrash and squeeze, trying its best to break Max’s spine, or ribs. And if Max had been human, the orc likely would have succeeded. Its grip was painful, its strength monstrous. Max understood now why Regin had warned him to get stronger before taking on the orcs.

  After half a minute, the orc began to run out of air, and released Max to push himself to the surface. Now it was Max’s turn to hold on and squeeze, keeping the orc underwater with his greater weight. The orc’s armor featured several spikes, which had punctured Max’s naked torso in the struggle. Blood leaked from his wounds and clouded the water slightly even as his regeneration began sealing the holes in his flesh.

  The now desperate orc began clawing at Max’s face, trying to force him to let go. Max opened his mouth and bit down on one hand, his sharp canines sinking deeply into flesh and grinding on bone. The exertion of holding the struggling orc meant his own air was beginning to run out, and he had to resist the urge to surface and inhale. The wildly thrashing orc was sure to run out of air first. Max just needed to hold on a bit longer. To distract himself from the need to breathe, he flexed his neck muscles and jerked his head back, ripping away a chunk of the orc’s hand. It roared in pain, the last of its oxygen bubbling up and away from them.

  The scout’s uninjured hand groped across Max’s face, trying to poke out one of his eyes. But the effort was weak now, the orc out of air and beginning to lose consciousness. Its entire body jerked once, then again, as Max watched it inhale great gulps of water. Figuring it was now out of the fight, Max got his legs under him and pushed toward the surface. He kept hold of the orc, not wanting it to float downstream before he claimed its ear and looted it.

  Standing upright, Max gasped in a great lungful of air the moment his head broke the surface. The now limp orc was suddenly much heavier as he dragged it toward the bank and up into the grass. After taking several deep breaths, Max scanned the area, looking for more enemies. Finding none, he turned to the orc. It wasn’t moving, but he wasn’t positive it was dead, either. Not wanting it to wake up and try to kill him again, he stood up and stomped on the scout’s neck. There was a satisfying crunch as its vertebrae collapsed.

  Orc Scout

  Level 4

  Health: 0/500

  Max scanned the area repeatedly as he moved to his pile of gear and began to get dressed. He didn’t want to take the time to dry off, in case more orcs were hiding behind nearby trees or bushes. His spine tingled, and an image of him being skewered by arrows flashed in his mind as he strapped on his steel greaves. Putting the war hammer on his back, then shouldering his pack, he lifted his axe and put his back to the tree. The feeling of being watched was intense, and he didn’t want anyone sneaking up behind him.

  “Ye did right well against that beastie, stranger!” A voice rang out. Max thought it was a good distance away. His eyes darted left and right, and his grip on the axe haft tightened. “But there be five of us here, and only one o’ you, so ye just put down yer axe, and we’ll figger if ye be friend or foe.”

  A man that Max assumed was a dwarf stepped out from behind a tree about thirty yards away. He was maybe four feet tall, with shoulders nearly as wide as Max’s. His stout body was nothing but muscle and beard, every inch of it covered in armor. Dark eyes on either side of a large, crooked nose watched Max as the dwarf raised a crossbow and pointed it in Max’s general direction. He cast Identify as the dwarf spoke.

  “I ain’t askin. Drop yer weapons… whatever ye are.”

  Dwarven Scout

  Level 10

  Health: 2,000/2,000

  Max decided to do what the dwarf said. It was his plan, after all, to make contact with the dwarves. He set the axe down, leaning it against the tree, then did the same with his war hammer. Raising his empty hands, he asked, “Do you need me to drop my belt knife, too? There are only five of you, after all.” He grinned when he said it, hoping that dwarven warriors appreciated the same dark humor that human soldiers did.

  “Ha!” The dwarf lowered his crossbow and began to walk forward. Four more dwarven warriors appeared at Max’s left and right, each of them carrying a lowered crossbow as
well. “Be a shame to have to kill ye, stranger. Yer funny!”

  “My name is Max. I was on my way to visit the castle over there.” He pointed eastward. “That orc tried to ruin my lunch.”

  “So we seen.” The dwarf nodded. “We been trackin’ that scout fer an hour, hopin’ he would lead us to a camp. Seen the whole fight. Well, sort of. Most of it were underwater.”

  “And you just let him sneak up on me?” Max growled.

  “Ha! First of all, I don’t know ye. Ye looked like a beastie yerself. We were curious what ye be, and whether ye could handle the orc. Second, he didn’t exactly have to sneak. Ye were making enough noise to scare away the bunnies, and crawlin’ about like a half-drunk bear. The orc simply walked up behind ye.”

  “I am a chimera. Which means I have a… mixed heritage. But I’m no beast.”

  The dwarf stared at him. “I can see that much from looking at ya. Dunno what a chimera is, but I can see some elf in ye, maybe some human, too. But ye’d be the biggest damned human I ever set eyes on!”

  “Yes, I’m part human, and elf. As well as troll, and stonetalon. And I would be a friend to you and the dwarves, if I can.”

  The moment he mentioned the two monster races, all the crossbows surrounding him were raised again. The lead dwarf growled at him. “Ye be a troll spy!” He looked meaningfully at Max’s armor, then the weapons behind him. “And ye be wearin’ the gear of a dwarven fighter! Who’d ye kill and steal it from?”

  Max tried to think quickly, come up with a story about finding the armory and borrowing the gear. But he didn’t think they’d take kindly to a thief any more than a murderer. So he went with the truth.

  “These are gifts from Regin. I stumbled onto an old sentry post above a waterfall a few miles that way.” He pointed toward the waterfall. “I found the graves of some champions, and they sort of… spoke to me. Told me their names, and showed me their faces. Then Regin appeared. We talked, he gave me a quest, then gifted me this gear to help me get it done.”