by Aleron Kong
Richter smiled at his new blade. The only way it could have turned out better is if a heavenly ability of the forge had activated. That only occurred in conjunction with certain celestial convergences though. Though as of yet, they couldn’t be predicted, once the village’s current research was done, he could expect more weapons made in the forge to have an extra trait. Thinking about what that might mean for his enemies brought a warm, fuzzy feeling to his heart.
Bowdin congratulated him on a successful enchantment. He promised that he would set the blade and have it ready for the morning. He also told Richter that a type of water lizard had recently been discovered and slain by the hunters. With a smile on his face, the smith promised that the leather used for the hilt would never slip from his grasp or grow slick. Richter clapped the man on the back and thanked him for his hard work. Then, he remembered what his next duty was. With a grim set to his face, he left the forge and marched towards the northern meadow. Terrod was waiting for him at the top of the hill.
“My lord,” the captain greeted him solemnly.
“Terrod,” Richter replied, stopping. He searched the man’s face. Despite that fact that he and Terrod were Companions, his relationship with the innkeeper-turned-guard was very different from his relationship with Sion. Now that he was thinking of it, he realized that his relationship with Elora was different as well. They were all his Companions, but while Sion was a brother, and the pixie queen was half-little sister and half-vassal, Terrod was like a well-trusted employee. Someone who had been through hard times with him. It had bred respect, trust and a calm friendship. “I’m glad you came,” Richter finished.
“How could I not? They were my men,” Terrod said with a trace of bitterness.
Richter took the man’s tone hard. With a slight crack in his voice, he said, “I promise that I did everything I could to save them.”
Terrod’s face took on a look of surprise, “My lord…” He stepped closer and looked the chaos seed in the eye. “Richter. I do not blame you for the deaths of my men. Gregane, Nitol and Amara all believed in what we are creating here. A home for our families and a place where we can all coexist. Where they could become whatever they wanted, no matter their race. Just seeing dwarves, elves, sprites and humans working together every day is amazing. No, my lord, I do not blame you. After I have had a few hours to digest the news, I do not even blame myself. Respost tine.”
Congratulations! You have learned a new language: Old Common.
“Look to yourself?” Richter asked, translating.
“Your ability to do that always astounds me,” Terrod said, shaking his head. “The phrase is in old common. I didn’t know it translated exactly to that phrase. It’s something all soldiers learn to say. Not before a battle, but upon coming home. It is spoken to remind us of an immutable truth that all fighting men and women learn. After every successful battle, we would say repost tine to remember that, in The Land, ‘Death comes swiftly.’ I don’t blame you, my lord, but we need to prepare better. Our guards need more potions and better weapons. Most importantly however, they need better training. I must formally request that the next building erected be a barracks.”
You have received a Quest: Battle Prep I. The Captain of the Guard, Terrod, is requesting for you to have a barracks built. Yes or No? Reward: Settlement bonus from building a barracks. Penalty for Failure: Decreased relationship with the village guards.
Richter easily accepted the quest, “I think you’re right. We have been building up the village’s infrastructure, but it means nothing if we can’t defend ourselves. Roswan will be gone until he returns from his Trial, but that is the very next thing on the agenda.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Terrod said with a bow of his head. When he straightened, he turned his gaze towards the Quickening and the families that waited there.
Richter sighed and said, “Now let's go thank the loved ones of the men and women that died for us today.”
With heavy hearts, but straight backs, the two men went to share sorrow and remember the dead.
CHAPTER 11 – Day 140 – Kuborn 30, 15,386 EBG
The conversation was painful, but went better than Richter had hoped. The only negative response was from Amara’s husband. He wept bitterly when he heard of his wife’s death. He cursed Richter and stormed off. Isabella, who was standing nearby, told Richter that she would handle it. Whether she would or not, Richter still received a prompt.
Due to the death of his wife Amara, you lost 15,342 Relationship Points with Rino. Total Relationship Points: -586
Your relationship with Rino has decreased from Admiring to Unfriendly.
The loss of Relationship points was massive, but Richter didn’t blame the man. In all honesty, the only surprise was that their relationship hadn’t dropped all the way to hatred. A cynical part of himself that he despised, but still embraced, made a mental note to keep an eye on the grieving widower from here on out. Even if the man’s sorrow was justified, he could still be a danger. Making eye contact with Randolphus, an unspoken communication passed between them, and Richter knew they were on the same page.
No, Rino’s response was not a surprise. The reaction he obtained from Nitol’s wife, Fopana, was a bit of a shock however. Tears were already running down the woman’s face before Richter broke the bad news. She had easily deduced why she was there after hearing what Richter told Rino. Fopana said afterwards that she had already suspected her husband was gone, because he always made a point to come see her after returning from a hunt. With her cheeks wet and eyes red, she simply asked, “Did he die well?”
Richter took her hand, “He died saving lives and protecting this village. He didn’t suffer.”
She asked one more question, straight and to the point, “What will become of me and my baby?”
Still holding her hand, he said, “You and your child will always have a place here. You will receive the entire year’s salary that Nitol would have earned, and if you wish to leave I will help. I hope that you will stay with us though. I swear that I will do my best by you and your family so long as I am lord here.”
She wiped the tears from her face, and then straightened to her full five feet and five inches of height, “I will stay here, if you promise me one thing. Spill the blood of those who are responsible for my husband’s death.”
Slightly taken aback, Richter still looked her directly in the eye and said, “I have killed the ones who killed your husband, and, very soon, I will kill the ones who sent them.”
She nodded firmly, “Then I am with you, my lord.”
Due to avenging the death of her husband Nitol, and agreeing to bring vengeance upon those who sent his killers, you have gained 1,638 Relationship Points with Fopana. Total Relationship Points: 25,032.
Your relationship with Fopana has increased from Admiring to Trusting.
Richter was at a loss for words. He had never expected to find such strength in a grieving widow and he doubted he could have borne similar news with such grace. The rest of the villagers were gathering though, led by Randolphus, so their shared moment of sorrow and vengeance came to an end. He dropped Fopana’s hand and the two of them walked over to the monument.
Most of the villagers had heard that there had been deaths on the hunt, but they did not know who. More tears fell as Richter spoke a few words. He then placed a hand on the enchanted stone and three more names carved themselves onto the wall of remembrance. Several villagers spoke up, sharing stories of the dead. Pixie children flew through the air above the villagers and filled the night with a soft and sad ode to the dead.
Randolphus had arranged for a grave to be dug. After everyone that wanted to speak had had their say, the bodies were lowered one by one as Sumiko’s biomancers cast the spell, Final Rest. A golden glow surrounded each shrouded corpse and ensured that they would never rise again as undead.
Mist workers filled in the graves. A light rain began to fall and the villagers started to disperse. A rumble in Richter’s
stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten. Absently, the chaos seed pulled some hard tack from his bag and ate it while he walked over to stand next to Hisako.
“Thank you for healing my men earlier,” he said.
“Of course,” she said. “I was able to restore both men completely.”
“You were able to fix the eye?” he asked in disbelief.
She smiled faintly, “I am a Life Master, in case you have forgotten.”
Richter smiled broadly and without reservation for the first time since the battle, “Thank you. I am truly blessed to have such an ally.”
She reached up and lightly slapped his cheek, “Do not forget it, young Master.” The playful look fell from her face, “We have much to discuss.”
The chaos seed nodded, “Not here. Come to the catacombs. I can feel my familiar flying closer. She has information that we will need.”
The Hearth Mother nodded and started walking back down to the village. Yoshi followed her, silent as a shadow. Randolphus got everyone else moving. Richter walked up to the freshly turned grave and stood silent vigil as the drizzle continued to fall. A few minutes later, he started walking back towards the village.
Richter took a slight detour to the Dragon’s Cauldron. Finding it empty for once, he restocked some of his potions. He was going to leave, but the sound of the rain soothed him. He closed his eyes, and, for a few minutes, he found peace in hearing the rain fall upon the glass roof. He had always loved the rain. Time passed and his spirit eased. His mind floated to happy and easy times, and, briefly, his cares were washed away.
The chaos seed couldn’t ignore the demands of life for long though. The blinking of a notification icon brought him back to the present. There was information he needed before meeting with Hisako and the others, and there was only one way to get it.
The prompt he was looking at had a clear border that pulsed with light. Richter had been putting off reliving the Witch Doctor’s memory. The remembrances that Alma stole while using Brain Drain could be disturbing, if not outright dangerous. He had also barely had a free moment since the battle that had claimed the Mage’s life. Richter couldn’t put it off any longer, though. If he was going to help with the war council to the best of his ability, the time was now.
Congratulations! You have captured a memory from a Goblin Witch Doctor. This memory can only be accessed for the next eleven hours and twelve minutes before dissolution into the ether. Experiencing this memory will be instantaneous in regards to your timeline. Do you wish to access this memory? Yes or No?
He mentally selected “Yes” and his world swirled down through a pinprick of memory.
CHAPTER 12 – Retained Memory
Once again Richter experienced life through the memories and senses of another. He, or rather the Witch Doctor, was walking through the goblin encampment. The goblin was lamenting having been summoned by the camp commander, may his member get pox and rot off. It was immensely unfair that he, a level thirty-five Mage, would have to come to this damned forest in the first place. Back in the swamps, he had wives and slaves that catered to his every whim.
His newest slave, a young elf girl, had just been broken! True, he had had to feed one of her sons to the lonelath maggots, but that was just foreplay! Sin-ak had yet to meet a slave that wouldn’t break when faced with the days-long death caused by foot-long maggots burrowing through their body… or the body of their remaining son. The goblin snorted in disgust; he had only been able to enjoy her sobbing body once, before he had left home. It was infuriating!
A scout was unlucky enough to cross his path as he stalked towards the Bloodstone. Goblin society operated by a severe caste system called “stations.” Near the bottom were the scouts. Even though goblins of the scout station possessed a meager intellect, most of them had learned to stay out of his way. As a rikker, the Witch Doctor was so high above them in goblin society that no one would fault him for taking his ire out on the smaller goblins. This was something that he took advantage of as often as possible.
Sin-ak began an incantation, conjuring the spell form into his mind. At the same time, his left hand formed the arcane gesture for the magic. With a gleefully brutal twist to his lips, the Mage finished his spell. Black energy had been building on his hand over the three second casting. It had been just enough time for the scout to see that he was being targeted. The small goblin tried to run, but got nowhere near the outer range of Sin-ak’s spell, Minor Festering Boils.
The scout’s skin began to bubble and pop. Each boil that rose and burst took away one to two health, and there were dozens of boils. Sin-ak’s adept rank in Dark magic increased his spell strength by 35%. Coupled with his high Intelligence attribute, the goblin scout never had a chance.
Richter tried to stop Sin-ak, horrified by the image of what the spell would do to the goblin scout. He had no love for goblins, that was to be sure, but through the Witch Doctor, Richter understood that the spell was meant to torture while it killed. As with his last jaunt through memory, however, the chaos seed was only a passenger.
The scout continued to scream until the boils began to form on the inside of her throat. The sounds coming from the goblin woman changed into a sickeningly wet burbling. The Witch Doctor’s necklace began to vibrate as the enslaved souls within detected the sweet scent of imminent death. Sin-ak stroked the necklace lovingly. As horrible a death as the Mage had just inflicted on the scout, it was a kindness compared to the spiritual torments he had subjected his enslaved souls to. Each had been brutalized and violated until the personalities they had once possessed had become so warped that no goodness remained.
Feeling like an indulgent father, Si-nak opened the cage doors that kept the spirits bound within his necklace. None of them could stray far from the necklace. Neither could they harm the wearer, so the Witch Doctor had nothing to fear. The tortured goblin had no such protections. All three malevolent spirits began to claw and scratch at the scout, hastening its end. Only a few seconds later, she shuddered a final time and died. It was only then that the scout knew true horror. No longer bound by flesh, the goblin’s soul began to depart from the mortal plane, but it never made it.
The Witch Doctor’s spirits began to feast. The goblin’s soul was torn apart as it screamed silently. Each enslaved spirit grabbed chunks of soul stuff and shoved it into their greedy maws. The soul tried to escape, but its struggles were useless. The scout’s soul was not the first that had been sacrificed to feed and grow the Witch Doctor’s slave spirits. Soon, all that was left of the once-living creature was a pockmarked carcass. Nothing remained of her soul.
The glutted spirits returned happily back to their cages. Once they were back in the necklace, Sin-ak in turn grew stronger, his mana, health and stamina boosted by the consumed soul his enslaved creatures had brought back to him. Now in a much better mood, the Mage stepped over the scout’s body, not sparing it another thought. Other scouts ran up behind him and began rifling through the dead goblin’s clothes.
Sin-ak continued walking through the camp. He liked to stop by the prisoner pens and mock the soon-to-be sacrificial victims, but couldn’t take the time today. The commander was not known for his patience. As much as the Witch Doctor hated his superior, he wouldn’t risk his wrath. The Mage made his way through the camp, all giving way before him until he reached the commander’s tent. Unlike the other goblins in the encampment, the elite guards standing outside of the tent were not cowed by either the Witch Doctor’s magic or his rikker station.
The guards just stared at him until Sin-ak snapped, “Move, fools. Your master has asked for my counsel!”
The well-armored duo just kept staring at him. Though Sin-ak was tall for a goblin, they still overtopped him by three to four inches. It stirred a deep anger inside of him, but the Mage did not push further. Even he understood that Specialists of the ortai station were not to be trifled with. After staring at him for another few seconds, the guard on the right turned away and poked his head into the ten
t. The guard spoke quietly, but the response was anything but subtle.
“Tell him to get his sprite-fucking ass in here!” thundered a deep bass from inside.
The guards stepped aside and Sin-ak passed through the tent flaps. Richter got his first view of the goblin commander.
Most goblins were between four and five feet tall, so far as Richter had seen. Higher ranked “stations” were normally taller. Scouts were the smallest the chaos seed had seen; fighters were a few inches taller; and the Warriors he had killed earlier in the day were a touch over five feet tall. Analyze had shown him that they belonged to the grinder station.
The Witch Doctor whose memory he was witnessing now had been part of the rikker station. Though a touch shorter than the grinder Warriors, the Mage had been in charge. Analyze had shown him that the rikker station was known for having magical powers and seemed to be middle management in the goblin hierarchy. The goblin commander was something else entirely.
The commander stood just shy of six feet tall and was powerfully built. Most of the goblins he had seen were either a dark green or a sickly lighter green. The one notable exception had been Big Red, the goblin Richter had killed to gain control of the Mist Village. This goblin’s color was a mix of red and black, like a lightly glowing coal. The commander’s muscle structure was different as well. Goblins could definitely be strong, but their arms and legs had muscles like a frog: wiry and built for snap movements. The commander defied Richter’s expectations in this as well.
The bastard was built like a brick house. He stood bare-chested, with large pecs and every muscle on his torso standing out in sharp definition. The commander looked like a bodybuilder, but Richter knew that the goblin’s physique was not just for show. The myriad scars crisscrossing his body were proof of that. Tattoos covered his body as well. Richter cursed the fact that he couldn’t use Analyze to find out more about the goblins’ leader, but this was just a memory.
