Kel’Van hadn’t had a chance to actually think about his predicament much. He woke up and went from one problem to the next, but right now, sitting on his make-shift bed, he had time to take it all in. How he even ended up with the type of starting stats and abilities wasn’t a mystery to him. Whether G.A.I.A. had recognized his status as a game-tech and had saved him, or the game mechanics had to justify his existence in this expansion setting, the result was the same. He may never know the why, but somehow, he retained all the skills he had put into his game tech character. Both the healing and fire spells were entry-level powers except Heatwave, a level 10 skill that you could only get through picking mage as a class. This is his life now, and every point is going to count. There would be no deleting his character if he didn’t like how it was turning out.
“What are my options and which ones are the best for me?”
If he plans to stay with the orcs, trying to focus on magic may be the way to go, while dumping some into heath periodically to at least take blows from these orcs in training. Especially if the shaman class became opened to him at level 10. But if things did not work out for some reason, having a survivable solo type build where he somewhat covered his bases would be ideal as well. It felt like he didn’t have enough information to make the correct call. That’s how people usually created a build. Knowing in advance what they wanted to prioritize, so that they pick the right attributes that will get them there. He only had what information the Shaman told him and what little he gleaned from battling and watching the orcs themselves…nothing on what skills or classes were available outside of Shaman. If that was all he had to go by, he should at least wait to be sure how he should allocate said points.
As Kel’Van was deep in thought lying on his bed, Fer’shad walked into the tent.
“Greetings Kel’Van,” said Fer’shad. Kel’Van waved at him and smiled a bit. Little by little, Fer’shad was growing on him.
“Taking a night stroll out there, Fer’shad?” Kel’Van mused as he got up in a sitting position on his bed.
The towering orcs eyebrow perked up questionably as he started walking towards Kel’Van. “What is this, “strolling?”
Kel’Van grin just got wider...” It just means you took a walk, man. That’s all.”
“Hmmm….” mumbled Fer’shad. He sat on down the bed opposite of him and rested his hands on his thighs.
“No, not a “stroll,” but I was talking with the veteran warriors of our tribe. They came into the eating tent and talked about what was expected of us. They also explained how the classes differed among our kin.”
“They what!!” exclaimed Kevin as he jumped from the bed. “Just now? Are they still there?" he asked hurriedly.
“No, they left a short while ago…. but they did ask questions about the youngling shaman that shot fire out of his hands,” Fer’shad chuckled.
Kel’Van waved it aside. His firework display meant nothing right now. Info on how orc builds differed did.
“So, what did they say about the different classes?” he asked. Trying not to seem too eager, but failing miserably.
“Well, the way they told it was there are three classes plus that of shaman” explained Fer’shad.
"The Berserker class are massive orcs. They use either a heavy blunt or double hand weapon. They are strong and can take a lot of pain. Usually in the front lines of attack crushing the enemy with heavy blows."
"The Slayer class uses a two-handed Sword. Strong as well, but usually not as big. They help the Berserker attack with blows after they initiate the assault. Their strong cuts hack away at the enemy’s strong points," he said slowly.
"Last are the Raiders," he said finally. "They are strong and agile. They wield short swords or axes in both hands. They quickly attack the enemy’s weak points then swiftly move to their next target."
Kel’Van listened with rapt attention. As he took it all in, he thought he now had a good understanding of how the classes worked and how the orc race did war. He needed one more detail to fill out the idea brewing in his head.
“What type of armor do the veterans wear?”
“They all wore some type of thick leathery skin,” replied Fer’shad. “Except the Berserkers...they wear skulls on their heads.”
“Yup," Kel’Van thought. “I think I figured it all out.”
“So, the classes are pretty much divided by the weapon choice?” he said more to himself than to Fer’shad.
“It would appear to be so.”
The Berserkers are orc versions of tanks. Though not heavily armored, they are at the forefront and absorbs the most damage. The Slayers are the heavy damage dealers, and the Raiders are the “Rogues,” using quickness and power attacks instead of stealth. The Shamans are magic users, but there isn’t a lot of them. Only a third of them are healers. So, orcs, by and large, are an all-out attack race. No pretense of defense. Which actually makes sense. They are incredibly strong, very agile for their size, and fast. It would only make sense for a primarily martial culture such as theirs to have classes ranked this way.
“You were gone for quite some time, Kel’Van,” remarked Fer’shad. “What did Meatgrinder do to you?” he asked with his brow creased in worry.
“Nothing much," he replied. "I ended up having a match with a level 5 shaman, though."
“Oh. Then I take it you won your match with this shaman?” grinned Fer’shad.
“It was an expedition as Meatgrinder explained it, more to see the extent of my powers.”
“Yes. But did you WIN?” asked the smiling orc.
“Of course, I did, Pfttt.” They both began chuckling at his response.
“It is good that you have proven yourself repeatedly. I’m proud to call you tent brother.” Fer’shad exclaimed. As your tent brother, I would ask that you bless me with the opportunity of growth.”
Kel’Van closed his eye to slits. He didn’t like the way Fer’shad phrased that. “What do you mean opportunity of growth “tent brother” Fer’shad?’ he superstitiously asked. Somehow, his inner bullcrap meter was on high alert.
“Well," “Fer’shad said while he scratched the back of his head, contemplating. "The other younglings are outside fighting each other to quickly gain levels. The warriors told us that is how they quickly advanced their stats to level 4. You can’t go outside of camp until you reach that goal.”
Kel’Van put his head in his hands.” “Fer’shad, what are you asking me?”
“I think it is best if we fight at night in addition to the training we receive during the day,” he said sheepishly.
Kel’Van began to chuckle inwardly. The way the orc always seems to feel embarrassed about things when it was costly to the person he was asking was commendable.
“You do understand I just came out of battle only 2 hours ago?”
“Yes, but if I’m not mistaken, you also have the ability to heal yourself. This would not only help me, but also help you grow quickly as well.” Fer’shad waved his hands outside of the tent. “Do you not want to see what is beyond this camp?”
He had a pretty good point. Kel’Van also didn’t have the heart to tell him that he already was able to level…he just hadn’t allocated his points yet.
“Fine," said Kel’Van as he waved his arms in surrender. "We can go practice sparring. Just give me a minute.”
“Understood,” said the larger orc. “Another one from our tent wants to practice as well, but I think you should ...how did you say it? Oh, yes. “stroll” to the outer lake." Fer’shad picked up some rough linens from underneath Kel’Van’s bed. “You are rather pungent in your smell. That is an unfair advantage that I would not want to face.” And then he threw the linens at his partner with a grin.
“Everybody’s a critic.”
CHAPTER 6
After taking a surprisingly warm shower in the lake across the tent, he walked to a small makeshift circle behind the tents in a fresher pair of short pants and a sleeveless shirt. Waiting for him as pro
mised was Fer’shad.
Fer’shad had indeed brought company.
She was about the same height as Kel’Van, while being just as muscular. Thighs and arms corded with muscle. The tusks from her mouth protruded from her jaw only slightly. Her hair was sheared off almost completely bald at the sides, leaving an almost mohawk look of black hair in the front. The hair's back was tied up in a loose ponytail—green skin a shade darker than his own.
“Hail youngling shaman Kel’Van …I am Belar. I came from the rebirth pool only minutes after you were pulled free.” The woman said after beating her chest in salute.
“Hail, youngling Belar,” said Kel’Van echoing the same thumping of the chest salute Belar gave to him. “I’m not a shaman, at least not yet. The head shaman refers to me as adept until I become one.”
“The other orcs and younglings would disagree with you greatly Kel’Van,” said Fer’shad. He stood up from his sitting position and dusted himself off. “Shall we begin?
“Enter the ring, big guy.”
The fight between the two orcs went almost exactly like their first one did. Kel’Van pretty much used his boxing skills and slightly higher agility against Fer’shad’s greater strength and arm reach. Farshad’s face and ribs were both bruised and tender from repeated blows from Kel’Van’s fist. The smaller orc wasn’t doing much better in the body department either. His back was bruised, and so was his shoulder.
“Okay...I think you need a break hombre,” said Kel’Van. “I’m going heal myself and rest for 5 minutes, and then we try again.”
“Agreed.” Fer’shad huffed. He sat down on the floor and leaned against the tent flaps. Kel’Van stood with his hands on his chest and started healing himself. Belar watched him as he did this.
“Do you still feel tired after you heal yourself?” She asked.
Kel’Van massaged both sides of his neck with hands and stretched. “Mentally a little bit…but otherwise, my body’s aches and pains go down.”
Belar stood up and walked over to him and looked him over as if she was to inspecting his head for injuries. “Well, that’s good… because it’s my turn.”
“What?”
Kel’Van barely put up his right arm in time to block the punch colliding to the side of his head.
Kel’Van ducked under a punch aimed at the other side of his head, while Belar grinned the entire time.
“Yeah…this is going to be a long night”.
On Fer’shad’s second fight with Kel’Van, he hit level 2.
A small light bloomed from the center of Fer’shad’s chest, then began to bloom outwards engulfing his body. Once the light was gone, the orc was on his knees, holding his head. He slowly rose to his full stature. The visible changes were immediate. He was slightly larger than he was prior. If he looked hulking and muscular before, he was even more so now. Both his thighs and arms filled out his clothes more. Biceps and shoulders were noticeably bigger.
“You okay there, Fer’shad,” Kel’Van asked. Seeing someone gain a level was not new to him. The process seemed the same as it was regularly when anybody leveled, so far as he knew. What he was looking for was how his stats looked after the change.
“I am more than fine, Kel’Van. In fact, I have never felt better.” He was flexing his muscles and feeling his own body and was in obvious awe of the changes. Belar was also occupied with his physical improvements.
“So, it doesn’t hurt at all?” she asked.
“No…it was like a pleasant warmth that radiated from the center and then surrounded me. Afterward, there was nothing but the feeling that my body was…better.”
“So, did you allocated all your points in health, or did you split them between stamina and health?” Kel’Van asked. Seeing the type of physical change in Fer’shad would have to be either of the two. As far as what the shaman explained to him, magic is only granted to orcs that have bonded to a spirit elemental. So, there was no “Magic” attribute he could put his points in.
Fer’shad had a questioning look on his face. “What do you mean by allocating points?”
“The points!” said Kel’Van, giving the large orc an incredulous look of his own. “The points you get that have to be added to an attribute before you level. Those points. Where did you put them?”
“Kel’Van, I have not used these “points” you speak of. I was fighting you, and then after the fight, I leveled. I did nothing besides that.”
“Fer’shad, you had to. There is no way you can level without putting points into an attribute. That’s how it works,” said Kel’Van raising his voice.
The now larger Orc stepped forward menacingly toward him.
“I tell you again. I did not do this “allocating of points,” as you call it. I was level one before the fight, and now I am two after. It is as I have said it.” Fer’shad was now within striking distance from Kel’Van’s face. “I do not understand your anger with me. You will explain it. Now.”
Frustration never left Kel’Van face, even with Fer’shad towering over him. Belar stepped between them, giving Kel’Van a questioning look of her own.
“Kel’Van, is this allocation of points something only shamans do?’ asked Belar.
Fer’shad left eyebrow arched. “Perhaps this is the source of your irritation Kel’Van? It would make sense if this question of points happened only to those of your ilk?”
Kel’Van saw the brooding anger from the towering orc replaced with that of questioningly wonder as he asked him the question. Kel’Van had to palm his own face. Leave it to the ACTUAL orc to be the voice of reason. Apparently, this was unique to him, not shamans, but he kept that to himself. No need to overcomplicate this more than was necessary.
“You two guys are right; maybe it is something unique to me. I’m sorry for being upset with you...” Kel’Van said meekly.
“It was of no consequence…we are younglings, no? It is good we find out these things together. “said Fer’shad. Kel’Van marveled at the orc’s mannerisms. The guy had a heart of gold with patience to match.
“Well, I’m glad we got that settled! “exclaimed Belar. “Now I think it’s my turn to level up by pounding on our bewildered shaman here,” she said while rubbing her fists in anticipation.
“Belar, before you attempt to bleed me again, you mind pulling up your stat sheet?’ said Kel’Van.
Belar’s face looked distant as she concentrated and looked at her sheet for a couple of seconds. She was oblivious to the rest of the team.
“Is there anyway way you could show us your sheet?”
“No,” Fer’shad answered. “The warriors told us it only works if one is in a Warband or group.
“Hmmm,” mumbled Kel’Van. He turned on his D.S. A translucent screen showing all his relevant data. Towards the bottom of the screen was the word social. He pushed the word, and a new menu emerged. He skipped the relevant data till he saw search.
“Belar, how do you spell your name?” Kel’Van asked.
She looked at Fer’shad, puzzled. “How do you spell a name?” She then shook her head and slowly said. “Kel’Van, you must understand that we are not shamans. Casting a spell upon another’s name is beyond our kin.”
Kel’Van stared at the two orcs looking at him. Then he burst out laughing so hard that tears began to water his eyes.
“Oh god…Oh god…” Kel’Van gasped as he held his stomach in pain.
This time, it was Belar who approached Kel’Van in a threatening manner.
“I do not share your mirth in our ignorance of your class, shaman,” Belar said as she closed in on Kel’Van. “If my not understanding is a source of amusement to you, it is past time that I remove my ignorance from your sight.”
She began to walk away, stomping her feet the entire time.
Kel’Van laughter was then replaced by remorse. He hurried after Belar and grabbed her hand to slow her down. She snatched her hand back quickly and went into a fighting stance immediately. He immediately put his hands up in sur
render.
“Listen, Belar, I was not making mirth of you…I mean laughing at your ignorance. I just didn’t know that you couldn’t understand what I was saying.”
He then ventured forth closer with his hands still in the air. Belar was still standing there with her fists, preparing to strike out at him.
“I swear to you that I’m sorry…to both you and Fer’shad.” He nodded toward the big orc as he said this. He nodded back and said nothing.
“I promise you I meant no offense. In fact, I can show what I was talking about if you let me.” He held out his hand in an open gesture.
“Please,” said Kel’Van.
Belar still had her face contorted in anger. She looked at the proffered hand and slowly took it in her own.
“Thank you,” offered Kel’Van. He guided her quickly back to where Fer’shad was sitting, watching the whole exchange take place.
“Excuse me, “Kel’Van said. He went toward the tent and picked up a sharp rock, and came back. He held up the rock in front of them.
“Watch.”
He then proceeded to carve his name into the dirt. Then he pointed at it with his own hand.
“This,” he stated. “is my name spelled. It represents me. Kel’Van. When I look at my D.S. that is what is next to a word called character. It looks like this.”
AVARICE ONLINE: KEL'VAN RED HAND Page 5
