by G. R. Cooper
“Aye. That should work.”
Wulfgar thought of Enquire Arenis, Heather, and whatever recruits that Rydra managed to send, “Do that last. Build out the other side of the wall before closing off the center. We may need to have access through the wall.”
The dwarf nodded, “We can also build a ramp for the front and rear that we can quickly take inside in case of attack. That should let at least foot and horse traffic through, if not carts.”
Wulfgar smiled, “Do it. And thanks.”
He sat on the wall, looking into the moat being dug. Tim the troll was bent, carving out the stone blocks for the wall from the ground to the front of the wall. The dwarves had determined that the soil in the pass was shallow, alluvial. Wulfgar assumed that the pass had once served as the top of a waterfall and that the lake to the north of the village had been deeper at one point.
In any case, the result was that the troll was able to quarry the stone he needed to build the wall from directly in front of where the stones would be laid. That gave two advantages. The first was the the blocks wouldn’t need to be transported from a quarry and the second was that for every block laid there was a correspondingly deep increase in what would become a moat in front of the wall. Owen had suggested they dig down one-third the height and then outward, providing for a moat that was three times as wide as the wall was high. Wulfgar had agreed.
Tim grumbled happily as his fingers seemed to cut through the stone like butter, quarrying it to a perfection that was hard to believe for what looked to be such an effortless process for the troll. The troll seemed in his element, happy to be digging and stacking rocks. Wulfgar shook his head and smiled; however useless Tim might prove as a familiar, he was invaluable from a town management perspective.
Wulfgar looked back to Owen, “Have you had a chance to look through the tunnels beneath the village?”
“Not yet,” he tugged his beard, “but I was planning on sending one of my surveyors down there tomorrow. I had a look at the area from above last night and this morning on our trips to and from the village and,” he scrunched his face, “is my understanding correct that you want a tunnel dug from underneath the lake, through the caverns and to the wall?”
“Yes. Through to the moat. I want to be able to flood the moat.”
Owen looked over his shoulder, toward the north, “The land around the lake looks to be a higher elevation, so getting the water here shouldn’t be a problem,” he chewed his lip, “assuming, that is, the cavern isn’t so deep that the water would have to climb back up to the level of the moat. My surveyor will take that into mind.”
Wulfgar nodded, happy that the dwarf supervisor seemed to have the problems well in hand. He looked up and saw Soulcatcher looking down at him from the battlements of the keep. He smiled up at her and she waved and moved away from the wall. He looked back down at Owen.
“Thanks! I’m glad to see that everything is well taken care of. Thank you, Owen.”
Wulfgar climbed through the tower toward the ramparts. As he passed through the second floor, he noticed that Catcher had already begun turning it into a meditation room. Candles spread in a circle around a dark rug. The rug, two by three meters, had elaborate stitching that showed a constellation of stars, moons and planets in silver thread. It reminded him of the decorations on the door of the Night path within the magic user’s guild. That made sense - Soulcatcher was a Magus of Night.
He pushed through the uppermost opening and onto the roof of the keep. Catcher was leaning against one of the battlement’s merlons. She smiled at him and waved.
“Hiya! You’re back soon.”
He nodded, “I pushed myself as hard as I could. Just left Edonis around midnight.”
She looked at the position of the sun, then back to him, “Wow! That’s about twelve hours of hard riding.”
He smiled, “It was tiring, but kind of meditative.” His arms rose in a stretch and he yawned, “Speaking of which, I notice you’ve got your meditation room setup below. Nice! Like the rug.”
“Not sure it goes with the decor,” she laughed, “but it doubles my mana regeneration rate. Pretty handy for meditating on long term spells.”
“That reminds me,” he dug through his inventory, “I got you a little something. Well, to be honest, Rydra picked this up for us the other night when we looted King Clive’s treasure room,” he winked. He tossed a tiny gold ring to her, and she lifted up toward the sun and examined it.
Her jaw dropped. She looked back at Wulfgar. “Plus ten meditation?” A huge smile broke across her face, “This thing,” she seemed at a loss for words, “well, let’s just say that it will be very helpful in setting up those spells we talked about.” She pulled the ring onto a finger on her left hand and seemed to purr with happiness as her skill increased. “With my rug and the boost that this gives my regeneration rate,” she paused for a second, calculating, “I should almost be able to meditate continually and counteract the drain from prepping spells like plane travel.”
Wulfgar wondered just how high her meditation level was.
Soulcatcher. Level 11. Magus of Night.
He scrolled down through her skills.
Meditation (34+10)
Wulfgar was surprised. That was the highest skill level he recalled seeing. She must spend a lot of time meditating. And the ring increased her ability by a great deal as well, in addition to whatever efficiency boost her rug gave her.
To be able to meditate continually while preparing a spell would increase her effectiveness - not having to worry about any cool-down period would make her into a meditating machine.
“Almost continually,” she corrected. “Maybe in a few more levels. As it is, I should be able to meditate and cast for hours at a time. My mana will go down really slowly.”
“Only works for spells you can work on while meditating though, right?” he asked. “I mean, since you have to be perfectly still to meditate, you can’t be moving around dropping fireballs on everyone, right?”
“Correct. It will only work with spells that can either be pre-cast, like plane travel, or that can be cast while sitting perfectly still.”
“Speaking of spells,” he laughed, going once more into his inventory, “I have another little present for you.” He pulled out the Levitation scroll and handed it to her.
“You’re kidding, right?” she gasped. “This thing must have cost a fortune. A large one.”
He nodded, “It’s a big investment. But it’s an investment in the town’s future. Before you read that, I need to have your word that you’re going to be based here for the long-haul. I mean, you can adventure all you want, but not until after the war. I need you,” he looked at her and nodded gravely, “and this is to be considered a benefit you get from committing to the town and its defense.”
She looked out over the valley toward Edonis, “I was planning on doing that anyway. This place is just what I was looking for. In addition being able to build something of value and importance here, I have my own place,” she spread her arms down around the tower and looked back to Wulfgar, “not to mention the ley lines.”
Wulfgar nodded, remembering her description of the ley lines. That they were like magical energy fields that stretched through the world and in some places converged for greater power. How they gave a Magus of Night a bonus in magical energy. That they improved the ability for the sorcerer to concentrate and prepare spells that benefited from long periods of concentration before being cast. The room below allowed her to spend a great deal of concentration, meditation and time preparing to launch a spell. The ley lines simply improved on that ability.
“So, yeah. I’m in, Wulfgar.” She read the spell, and the scroll disappeared from her hands and into her spell book. She looked at him and laughed, “What if I change my mind later and decide to leave the town.”
“Then you owe the treasury of Marchstone fifty gold pieces,” he laughed, “plus interest.”
“Deal,” she smiled, then stopped. �
��Wait a second, I just had a thought. With my meditation ability and this new levitation spell …” She looked into the distance, lost in thought.
“Yes?”
She thought for another few seconds, “I might have an idea of something I can do.”
“What?”
“Let me test it out a bit. I’ll get back to you.” A huge grin broke out over her face, “But if I’m right, oh man, this will be awesome!”
Wulfgar spurred his horse away from the tower, toward the town of Marchstone. He waved over his shoulder to Catcher, still beaming on the top of the keep. She waved back happily then disappeared from view, heading down into the meditation room. Unable to get any more details from her about the cool thing she thought she might be able to do, he reminded her that her first priority was to focus on the plane travel spell that the group would use to go to the plane of hell she thought would be the best chance of capturing her a familiar - a demon-spawn imp.
Wulfgar wanted her to have every magical edge when the time for the war came; he had no idea how many mages that the army of Clive would have, and he worried that they might be overwhelmed by magical power. They needed to get every advantage, and they needed to travel to hell before resurrection was turned off in a week - no, six days, he reminded himself. Time was slipping by too quickly, he had far too much to do.
He had also promised her a nice villa near the wall and her tower. One sufficient unto the new title he had bestowed upon her - Knight Sorcerer of the Kingdom of Marchstone. He had made up the words on the spot, but they seemed to please her. She joked that she was happy to have the role, as long as she didn’t have to change her name to Merlin. Wulfgar had almost made her an Earl or a Duke, but he thought he needed to start off small - that way they could be promoted over time. So he decided that each of his friends would start off with a knighthood and gain greater rank as time went on, assuming they earned it. He smiled; there was a lot more to being a king than he’d ever imagined, especially since he never in his life ever imagined that he would someday become a king.
His horse ambled over the small bridge fording the stream that ran from the mountains to the east toward the great lake in the north. Wulfgar didn’t imagine that this small stream actually fed the lake in any significant amount. Exploring the valley, which he assumed was the extent of his kingdom, was high on his to-do list. After the war. Assuming, that is, the valley was still his after the war.
He sighed as he rode through the little village. The buildings on both sides of the square were open to the warm day. The people, the NPCs, of the village waved and bowed as he passed. He smiled and waved in return. Reaching the inn, he hopped off the horse and strode through the door. A large lunchtime crowd roared in greeting as he entered. He smiled again, and waved, again.
“Hail King Wulfgar!” shouted Snorri from the long table where he sat among the other players of the town. Except for Catcher and Connor, it looked like the rest of the crew was here. As the crowd hailed, Bear jumped up to Wulfgar and put his front paws over his human’s shoulders and dragged his pork-loin sized tongue from Wulfgar’s chin to his forehead.
“Hey buddy! I missed you too,” he hugged the dog and scratched his furry chest. The dog dropped back to the ground and returned to the fire, where he turned around twice before dropping with a sigh back to the nap that the king’s arrival had interrupted. Shannon’s tiger, sitting in the corner, washed itself; patently ignoring everything that the humans in the room were doing.
Wulfgar pulled a seat, coincidentally at the head of the table, and sat back and sighed in happiness. He took a quick pull from the mug that the bowing serving girl placed in front of him and sighed again, enjoying the dark ale.
If Enquire Arenis can brew an ale better than this, he mused, that alone will make getting him to move to the town a great accomplishment.
He looked to his friends around the table, all smiling at him.
“You did it, you magnificent bastard,” continued Snorri, shaking his head in disbelief. “It was you, right? You got them to turn resurrection on again?”
Wulfgar smiled and nodded and his friends cheered again.
“And in doing so got us all declared rebels and at war with Edonis. You don’t really do much halfway, do you?”
So they got the declaration of war message. I wonder if all players got it. Soulcatcher didn’t mention it, but maybe she was meditating when it came through. Or maybe it just slipped her mind.
He looked back up at Snorri, “No. Nothing halfway. Halfway is for pussies.”
His friends laughed.
“And,” he continued, opening his inventory, “I come bearing gifts.”
“Fat loot!” screamed Lauren.
“Fat indeed,” said Wulfgar, pulling out a pair of gloves. He handed them to Lauren.
She squealed as she read the description, “These are awesome. Thank you.”
“Don’t leave us hanging,” said Corwin from the end of the table, “what are they?”
“Gauntlets of Alacrity. Reduces the time to craft an item by three quarters. Usable by Tailors, Blacksmiths, Fletchers, Woodworkers and Chefs. Rare.” She waved the gloves happily above her head before pulling them onto her hands, “This will make a huge difference. Thank you so, so much, Wulfgar.”
He shook his head, “I expect that you’ll be putting them to good use. For the town,” he paused, remembering Rydra’s words about establishing himself as the leader, “for the kingdom. I have every faith that you’ll use them to further our cause,” he looked around the crowd at the table, “as will all of you.”
He looked to a face that he’d seen once before, but it had been distinctly less animated at the time.
“Galad, right?”
The man nodded and smiled.
“I’m afraid I have nothing in this goody bag for you,” he looked to Shannon, RaNay, and nodded at her as well, she smiled in understanding, “but you’re on my list for future reference.”
“You got me resurrected and, from what I’m told, carried up from the snake den below,” he smiled, “that’s one hell of a gift, as far as I’m concerned.”
Wulfgar bowed his head, then looked the man in the eyes, “Be that as it may, if you plan on staying here to help us,” he assumed that his friends had filled him in on the situation, “I’m going to get you everything I can in order to help you help us.”
Galad smiled and nodded and Wulfgar looked at him closely for the first time. He had light, curly hair and a medium length beard. Wulfgar thought that, more than anything, he kind of looked like Robert Plant. He pulled up Galad’s character sheet.
Seventh level Magus of Morning, he read. The first morning sorcerer I’ve met, as far as I know. I need to learn what kind of skills he brings to the group.
“Hey, is Lauren the only one who gets fat loot?” asked Snorri, shaking Wulfgar’s shoulder and bringing him back to the present.
Wulfgar smiled and took another pull from the mug. He wiped beer foam from his beard and reached back into his inventory. He laughed at the look of drooling greed that came over Snorri’s face as he saw the huge, elaborately decorated, double-bladed, battle axe Wulfgar pulled onto the table.
“I thought Corwin might like this,” he said, deadpan.
“What?” shrieked Snorri, crestfallen. “Are you kidding?”
“Maybe,” smiled Wulfgar.
Snorri picked up the axe and began reading.
“Axe of Lightning. Adds equivalent of Lightning Bolt to each hit. The level of Lightning Bolt is half the warrior’s Axe level. Lightning damage only applicable to objects susceptible to electrical damage, this is separate from damage inflicted by axe. Lightning damage depends on targeted object susceptibility. Epic.”
He looked up at Wulfgar, his jaw dropped.
“Hell. Fuck. Damn,” he whispered, then shook his head, “I can’t think of anything else to say.”
“Snorri struck dumb?” laughed Lauren, “There’s a first time for everything.”
“Nice,” whistled Galad.
At that moment, the door to the inn opened. Wulfgar looked over his shoulder and saw Connor, the ranger, framed and back lit by the sunny day. He moved to the table, pulling his green hood off of his head and letting it drop to his back. He pulled out a chair and sat with a sigh next to Wulfgar.
“Just in time,” smiled Wulfgar, putting his hand on the ranger’s shoulder. “We’re giving out some presents that Rydra and I lifted from King Clive’s treasure room.” He pulled a bow and handed it to the man.
Lauren leaned in toward Connor and read, “Flame Bow. Adds equivalent of Fire Shot spell to each arrow shot. The level of Fire Shot is half the archer’s Archery level. The fire can only ignite and damage flammable objects, this is separate from damage inflicted by arrow. Flame damage depends on flammability of targeted object. Damage continues until flame is extinguished. Epic.”
“Twins!” shouted Snorri. “Well, kind of.”
“Fraternal twins,” laughed Lauren. “You guys seemed to get very similar weapons. Axe of Lightning and a Bow of Fire.”
Connor looked at the bow, appraising it, “This is amazing, thanks.” He looked up to Wulfgar, “I’m not sure, however, that I deserve it. I failed in my quest.”
Wulfgar raised an eyebrow and waited.
“Well, I know I’ve only been gone a couple of days, but I managed to get pretty deep into the elven forest. I couldn’t find a single track. Not a sign of any elves. My tracking skill is just too low. I haven’t been able to help at all.”
“First,” said Wulfgar holding up a finger, “the bow is yours. Assuming you are willing to commit to this town and its defense, that’s what it’s for. We’re going to need it, and you.”
