by Tim Moon
When he wore himself out with magic, Jaron went to get the first body and noticed something odd. It was tiny and difficult to notice. Plucking the thing from corpse’s neck, he peered at it closely.
“Holy shit,” Jaron breathed.
Unless he was going crazy, the thing he found was a dart. It had a metal tip, a straight shaft and fletching just like an arrow. It was only the length of Jaron’s index finger, so it had to be a dart. His gaze flicked around the field quickly, searching for any sign of the mystery shooter. Then he quickly went over the other bodies and found at least one dart in each of them.
Someone was out there.
He had felt it before but now it was confirmed. Jaron’s heart kicked into overdrive. Not knowing who was watching made his skin tingle with goosebumps. He doubted the meant him harm. After all, it would be dumb to aid his fight against the goblins only to strike him down now. Licking his lips nervously, he cleared his throat and decided to call out to them.
“Hello?” Jaron shouted, searching the shadows in the forest for movement. “I found your darts. Please identify yourself.”
Long moments stretched by without a response. His ears strained for any unusual sounds while he watched for movement.
“Hello?” Jaron turned and searched the other side of the meadow. It would have been nice to meet someone new. Even though he only spent a relatively short amount of time with Cyprus and the kids, he had felt the odd pang of loneliness since respawning. He held up one of the darts and waved it back and forth, grateful for the unsolicited help they had offered even if they remained hidden. “Thanks for the help.”
Clearly, they enjoyed their anonymity.
With a heavy sigh, Jaron got back to his gruesome chore of moving the bodies. The stench had grown thick under the morning sun. The grassy path through the meadow led around a patch of beautiful wildflowers. The path was wide enough for him to walk carefully, so he couldn’t drag the bodies. Instead, he was forced to heft the green monsters onto his shoulder.
Back and forth he went, carrying and dropping the bodies into the pit. All the while listening for any sign of the mysterious shooter. He grimaced at the sight of their corpses piled in a jumbled mess. He gave his fallen enemy a quick salute and then cast terraform again to move the dirt back with hardly any effort.
Magic was a truly wonderful thing.
25
When Jaron finished with the bodies, he went to the statue and gave Ahja a little bow. He enjoyed this place, but it was time to move on. He needed to find his friends, reach civilization, and get a goddamn proper meal — ASAP.
If only there was a way to conjure food, he thought. A spell like that would be amazing. Or a ring of sustenance like he had always used in Dungeons & Dragons games back on Earth.
The sun had almost reached its apex, and Jaron was beyond ready to leave. He buckled the sword belt on and adjusted it so he could draw the cutlass with his right hand. He shouldered the goblin backpack, which was a tight fit since he was at least a foot taller with much broader shoulders. The only other item he kept was the rope because it was too useful to bury with the bodies. With his trusty wooden spear in hand, Jaron gazed upon the statue again before he left the beauty and serenity of the meadow with a contented sigh.
A wonderful variety of trees and plants brightened Jaron’s passage through the forest. He made good time, and despite the grumbling in his stomach, he felt good. So good that he began to whistle a tune to himself.
A stream crossed his path, so Jaron took the time to wash away the stink of battle. He washed the backpack and the rope too. The two items left a dark stain in the water that flowed downstream with the current. He looped the wet rope and hung it on the outside of the pack so it could dry.
The forest grew rockier with moss covered outcroppings appearing occasionally. Trees thinned out and he could see proud mountains in the distance. The mountains were jagged and beautifully snowcapped. He wondered if any dragons resided deep in the mountains like they often did in the books he grew up reading.
Jaron stopped whistling and kept an eye out for animal sign and hunting opportunities. He also focused on walking as quietly as possible to maximize his chances of spotting something worth eating. There should be plenty of wildlife in a forest this vibrant.
The mixed terrain and his efforts to be quiet slowed Jaron’s pace. He glanced at the sun and horizon. Gauging the distance to the horizon with his hand, he estimated that only a few hours of daylight remained. He needed to find a place to build shelter, collect wood and start a fire before it grew dark.
Since he’d been walking along the base of a rocky ridge, it didn’t take long for Jaron to find an acceptable place to hunker down for the night. He located a narrow space between a boulder and a steep outcrop. A gap created by the two stones would protect his flanks and provide some overhead cover. He eyed the shadowed areas under the overhanging rock and poked his spear in. When nothing attacked or ran away, Jaron moved closer and knelt to inspect the space. The ground was dry as he expected. The packed dirt didn’t show noticeable signs of animals.
This will do, he thought.
The void created by the stones also blocked most of the wind that the ridge channeled down. Only the occasional gust deflected off the rocks and swirled into the gap from above. That would be easy enough to block with some sticks and debris. Once he built a camp fire, he would be downright cozy.
Jaron felt a light breeze coming in from a crevice between the rocks deep in the shadows. He shoved dirt and a few small rocks into the gap to block the draft. He set his spear like a shower rod between the rocks so his hands would be free to carry wood and to mark the location so he didn’t get lost.
The forest was positively brimming with fallen branches, perhaps to make up for the lack of animals, and within minutes Jaron had an armload to use for shelter and firewood. A few quick trips and he had collected more than enough armfuls of wood, leaves and dried pine needles for the shelter, bedding and insulation. Using his rusty goblin sword, Jaron took down a few branches with thick pine needles and dragged them back to the boulders. Just in case it decided to rain again.
All the loose debris went in first for his bedding. Then he placed branches to serve as rafter in the V-shaped space overhead where the two rocks met. The rafters were topped with one of the fresh branches he had cut so the needles fanned out and would provide a nice base for the loose debris that would become his roof.
Next, he placed vertical branches and built up a wall at the mouth of the mini-ravine, leaving only a small opening with enough space to get in and out if he turned sideways. Near the back, just under the edge of his roof, he cleared out an area for the firepit and arranged stones in a circle.
Jaron’s stomach grumbled repeatedly as he worked, distracting him and slowing his progress. An orange sunset spread across the sky, which made him think about pumpkins, which then made him fantasize about a Thanksgiving feast. That just made his stomach growl even more.
He quickly started and then built up the fire until it could handle larger branches and sustain itself for a while. Then he left the shelter to explore the immediate area for food in a desperate, last-ditch effort to find any kind of morsel to eat.
Darkness fell before he found anything, and Jaron retreated to the warm fire empty handed, save for his spear and a few sticks he collected along the way. It was going to be a long night.
Jaron went to take the sword belt off so he could sit down comfortably and was reminded that he needed to practice with the cutlass to unlock the skill, like he had with the spear. He leaned the spear against the boulder, put another thick branch on the fire, and drew the rusty cutlass. For obvious reasons, sword fighting wasn’t taught to modern soldiers but he had watched his fair share of restored antique films like Braveheart, Gladiator and Pirates of the Caribbean, and could reasonably imitate the movements he remembered.
Despite his nagging hunger, Jaron lost himself in an imaginary battle. He parried invisible
strikes, slashed at evil foes and delivered devastating thrusts that spilled their equally imaginary guts. There was no doubt in Jaron’s mind that he looked more like the hapless Jack Sparrow than the disciplined General Maximus in Gladiator. Nevertheless, Jaron spun, swinging the blade out and then came to an abrupt stop and lunged forward to thrust his blade into the darkness.
Jaron’s reverie ended with a growl that emanated from the forest. He sucked in a breath as his pulse quickened. Whatever made the noise sounded massive.
A low growl was followed by the glint of reflected light from narrowed eyes. First one pair and then seven more pairs of eyes glared at Jaron from the forest.
Oh, shit, he thought. Glancing over his shoulder, he was thankful none of the beasts had climbed the boulders to attack from behind. The enemy was in front of him but now he was cornered and the rickety little wall he made from sticks would not keep them out.
Any ambiguity about what kind of creature they were fled when one of them howled long and loud. Distant calls were returned. Wolves! Backing up slowly, Jaron moved closer to the fire. Supposedly wolves didn’t like fire. He didn’t think they normally attacked humans either. But then he wasn’t a human anymore so maybe that didn’t apply to Outlander elves.
Even as Jaron stepped back, two shadows slowly emerged from the darkness and entered the edge of the fire’s light. He wasn’t feeling super confident about the fire’s deterrent effect. Collecting his spear with his free hand, he gulped when red text appeared in his vision.
Attention: You lack the necessary skill to engage in dual-wield fighting with a two-handed weapon and a one-handed weapon at the same time. You will suffer a 60% penalty to your main hand and 75% penalty to your off-hand.
Hefty penalties like that will surely be my demise, Jaron thought.
He sheathed the sword and gripped the spear with both hands. Several wolves took a step closer, their lips curling back in fierce growls that showed off their teeth. The sight triggered a flashback of the sharkodiles and his grip on the spear tightened.
One wolf stepped forward, boldly filling the makeshift doorway with its big head and wide shoulders. Two other wolves swatted aside the sticks and leaves that made up his wall like they were nothing more annoying flies at a picnic.
Now that they were full in the light of his fire, Jaron knew his odds were not good. These beasts were bigger and scarier than any wolf he’d seen before. Their fur was midnight with eyes like yellow moons. The top half of their faces were devoid of fur and instead sported pale bone plates, like armor. Sharp, white fangs glistened in the firelight and a tall ridge of hair ran down their backs like Mohawks while the rest of their coats were short, smooth hair. Jaron triggered analyze on the wolf that had entered through the door.
Dread Wolf Alpha, level 5. Health: 150 Stamina: 180 Mana: 90 Defense: Unknown
Jaron began to cast putrid mud, forming the boundaries that he desired in his mind. He finished the two second cast as the wolves took another tentative step forward. The move put them into the middle of the spell’s AOE.
The fierce demeanor of the two lead wolves changed immediately as they scrambled to find purchase in the 6 foot by 5 foot pool of mud that spanned the space between both rocks. Three health points ticked away every second they were contact with the mud. If he planned to have any chance of survival though, that would not be enough.
A wolf climbing out of the mud yelped when Jaron sent a spike of stone deep into its soft belly. It tore itself free and escaped into the darkness, dragging its guts through the dirt behind it. One had escaped the back of the pit while a third one he hadn’t seen emerged from the mud closest to Jaron. Their eyes locked and the wolf growled and barked at him. Jaron darted forward and thrust the spear at it. The wolf tried to dodge aside but the tip stuck into its shoulder and it too yelped in pain.
His spear did little damage though and the wolf snapped at him. Jaron backed up two steps and the wolf charged, trying to grab his arm to pull him off balance. Swinging his spear sideways, he batted aside the nasty beast and stepped closer to the fire, hoping to put it between him and the wolves. Terraforming a wall to block them would have been ideal but the cast time was just too long. Instead, Jaron tried out his new spell. A buckler of stone the size of a dinner plate appeared in the air, floating a few inches from his left arm.
An uninjured wolf leaped over the mud pit to join its companion in a sudden frenzy of coordinated nips and lunges that had Jaron swinging wildly with his spear. He even lashed out with a couple of kicks just to keep them at bay. Jaron cast stone spike again but they wolves moved too quickly.
With a growl and bark, the alpha leaped over the mud to join the fray. That distracted the two already faced him, giving Jaron an opening. He took it and dealt a savage blow to the alpha. The tip of his spear dug deep into the alpha’s chest. It reared its head back with a snarl and tried to bite the weapon.
Jaron pulled it out just a second too slow. A second wolf grabbed the spear in its jaw and the pair tried to yank it away. Jaron kicked the second one in the ribs and it snapped at his leg. Jaron managed to dodge the bite. He swung and with a whoosh of air, the spear cracked the wolf in the side of the head. The alpha circled to the other side of Jaron, who cast another stone spike. This one pierced the alpha’s paw.
Seeing its leader injured again, the other wolf charged as two more emerged from the shadows to support the attack. Jaron backed into his shelter, scattering the branches and debris. Some of it fell onto the fire and he cursed when it looked like the fire might be smothered. Darkness fell over the battle as the wolves advanced.
Sharp teeth bit into Jaron’s leg, dragging him to the ground. He howled in pain and smashed the wolf with the buckler. The jaws released with a satisfying crunch and sharp whimper of pain. Jaron crab walked backwards a few feet until he could stand and draw the cutlass. He panted and tried to anticipate the next attack.
He thought he saw a shadow move, so he cast another stone spike. No cries came from his enemy, so he chalked it up to a failed attempt. Another shadow moved and Jaron swung his buckler in front to block. The blow staggered him back a step and he swung with the sword. The blade bite into flesh and the dread wolf retreated with a vicious growl.
An orange glow blossomed underneath the collapsed wood and debris that used to be his roof. The pile sent a giant plume of smoke into the air, obscuring his vision and burning Jaron’s nose and throat. He coughed and blinked away the smoke as the fallen debris burst into tall flames, lighting his shelter twice as bright as before.
Scrambling to his feet, Jaron unleashed a roar of challenge and triumph. He used the blade to flick several burning branches and leaves at the wild canines. The beasts shrunk back from the fire but the alpha barked and growled, urging his pack on.
“Shiiiiiit.” Jaron gulped hard. These motherfuckers were determined.
Four uninjured wolves charged forward though only two or three could realistically fit. They somehow managed to lunge and snap at him in rapid succession. The cutlass made contact several times, keeping the group back, but none of the strikes were fatal. Lactic acid burned his shoulder and Jaron could tell he was slowing. His leg hurt like a motherfucker where he’d been bit. Although it wasn’t enough to cripple him, it was enough to tip the balance against him. Jaron could still put weight on it and fight, but the effects were building.
Channeling his primal rage, Jaron shouted a word of power and made a gesture that came to him as though he’d known it his whole life. With that move, Jaron impaled another wolf with a stone spike that crippled its back leg. The wolf collapsed against the boulder that formed Jaron’s defense and cage. He kicked aside another dread wolf that nipped at him. As the impaled wolf pulled itself off the spike, Jaron swung his sword to clear the others back and then leaped forward and brought down a vicious overhand strike that cleaved the injured wolf’s skull in two, netting him 50 XP.
The sudden death, or perhaps his bold move, sent a shock wave through the wolves
who paused and then backed up. Although he was still wildly outnumbered, Jaron felt a shift in their attitude. Confidence swelled inside and he knew these creatures wouldn’t end him tonight.
“Ya feeling dizzy, bitches?” Jaron asked with a growl, eyeing each of wolves he could see. “Cause the tables just turned.”
The alpha growled and barked yet the wolves shrank away. The first putrid mud spell would expire any second, so Jaron began to recast it now that he had some space to risk it. This time he made it longer to extend his magical moat. Another of the wolves was caught in the AOE. It snorted and huffed as it paddled wildly towards firm ground.
Then Jaron began to cast terraform, never taking his eyes off the alpha. A wall of earth spanning the opening between the rocks shot up ten feet high. He groaned and dropped to a knee.
Jaron took deep breaths and winced as searing pain burned in his mind. Intuitively, he knew it was from casting so many spells. Draining so much mana hit him like running 10 miles and then getting punched in the temple. He just hoped that the wall was enough to hold back the dread wolves.
Steadying himself against the boulder, Jaron looked over at a wolf carcass and caught his breath. Adrenalin continued to course through Jaron’s veins as he prodded the body with his sword. It didn’t budge. Jaron knelt beside the massive creature which was at least eight feet long and several feet tall. He rapped his knuckles on the bone plates on its head. They were fierce-looking bastards. If hell existed, he could see these guys guarding the gates.
He tried to analyze the wolf, but all his skill told him was that it was a dead dread wolf. Apparently, the skill didn’t work on dead things. Another notification about 50 XP appeared. Jaron raised an eyebrow and then remembered the gutted wolf that ran off. That was the likely source.
