by Tom Hansen
The frightened pink pig bolted, and Scarhoof swore at the retreating animal before turning his focus on the beast that dared attack him.
It was a large, mottled brown boar, half a meter long, excluding its tail. It hung from his leg despite his thrashing.
He gained his wits and stopped trying to swing it off. Instead he punched its face. Two hits loosed the beast’s jaws and it squealed and scampered off.
Effect Status: Bleeding! -1 Health/Second
What was a boar doing in Sunset Cove, and so large? The only animals not domesticated by the Tau’raj were some crabs from the ocean and the Kobolds, but they lived in a cave on the other side of the cove.
He looked at his leg, the pain throbbing up his spine and pulsing in his head. The damned thing had gnawed teeth marks past his hide and into his flesh. His health trickled away from the bleed effect, and he felt lightheaded. He almost didn’t notice how quiet it was. He couldn’t hear the boar he had just punched. It creeped him out. Noise was normal, quiet wasn’t.
Then he heard it. Noises to his right and left clued him in. He was being hunted, and he needed a weapon.
Blood continued to drip down his leg, catching in the scar on his hoof. He backed up, favoring his left leg, and searching for something to use as a weapon.
Between two rows of wheat a stick lay on the ground, possibly an old walking stick that had been broken in half. It would have to do. He reached down and grabbed it, swinging it around to get a feel for the weight and balance.
Item Received! Stick: Base Damage: 1, Speed: 1, DPS: 1
The scratching sounds were now joined by snorts. They were getting closer. A larger patch of wheat swayed to his left. He took a couple steps back, trying to put some distance between himself and the unseen enemy.
Two feral boars leapt from the wheat. One had a swollen white eye, probably the one he had punched. The other was larger, as he had expected. The large one seemed the more dangerous of the two with its massive pointed tusks and piercing white eyes full of hate and anger.
He’d gone from chasing an escaped pig to defending himself in a moment.
Now wasn’t the time for introspection, however. Now was the time to defend. He limped backwards. His right leg still bled, and his health ticked down slowly.
He swung the stick back and forth as the two boars danced just outside its range. With a grunt, both boars attacked at once. He got one good hit in on the larger of the two but traded the hit for another bite on his left hand.
In the distance, the localized squeal of pigs and clucking of chickens told him that more animals were being returned to the pen. He turned, leading the feral boars deeper into the fields and away from the vulnerable Tau’ri.
The boars dodged a swing, breaking apart, and coming at him from two sides. He now fought on two fronts.
While he managed to keep the larger one at bay, the smaller would come up to bite him when his back was turned. A few solid hits with the stick would finish him off for sure, but the feral boar refused to back down. Despite the smaller boar’s flagging health, he decided to face the larger one because it was doing far more damage.
Scarhoof’s health began to fail, the trail of blood from his injuries a sad tale. He continued to back away from the village, hitting as often as he could. They whittled his life away with jabs and grunts. He needed to end this. But between the constant spinning and loss of blood, he was dizzy. He feinted and the smaller one dodged out of the way. He caught it with his stick, using its momentum against it. He whacked it again and was rewarded with a resounding crunch of bone. The smaller boar squeaked out its last, but the other didn’t hesitate. It leapt onto his back goring him with one of his upturned tusks. It jumped off and dodged out of the way.
“Ahh!”
Searing fire shot down his spine as he whirled around, swinging the stick. His health was now dangerously low, the gouge in his back took nearly a quarter of his health away in one attack. The edges of his vision, which had already begun to fade, contracted almost instantly as noises around him took on an echo-like quality. He thought he heard a faint clomp of hooves around him. Maybe it was the spirits, coming to take him away.
He didn’t want to die like this, from a boar, alone in a field.
Blackness pushed in from all sides. He fell to his knees, the dull pain from landing on his injured leg barely registered.
The feral enemy snarled, brandishing its tusks again.
Scarhoof noticed the boar’s eyes were a milky white, and he noticed something sticking out of its fur behind one of its ears.
Like a tumor.
His eyes began to close. He swung the stick once more, trying to keep the vicious enemy at bay, but he knew it would do no good. His movements were sluggish and dream-like.
Scarhoof knew he was dead, but death didn’t come.
Instead, a warm, pulsing, green glow enveloped his body, causing his health to spike up just before he ran out of life. His hide prickled with goosebumps as the healing spell cooled his heated skin.
He felt renewed and re-energized. He was still bleeding, but he was alive! He didn’t know how, but he didn’t have time to think about it. He had a boar, tusks down, running at his face for a killing blow.
Scarhoof swung, connecting with the boar’s left leg with a sickening crack. The boar tipped and drove into the ground, burying its tusks in the soil. The boar squealed, flipping over as one of its tusks hit a rock and snapped.
Scarhoof rolled back onto his hooves and stood, keeping the boar in front of him as it dislodged itself from the dirt.
It was severely damaged now, with a broken leg, tusk, and swollen eyes. But nothing was more dangerous than an animal with nothing to lose. It sniffed the air before leaping at him.
Scarhoof danced, dodged, and swung, taking off health one swing at a time. His head swiveling, he tried to find the healer while keeping the boar at bay.
Nitene Softfeather stood in a defensive stance about twenty meters away, her hands ready to cast another spell. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him dancing around the rabid monster’s attacks.
“Thank you!” Scarhoof smiled at Nitene, dodging another bite from the rabid enemy. “I was nearly dead.”
“I saw that. You’re lucky I heard the crying and squealing. I thought there might be a Tau’ri cornered by a loose chicken.”
She tossed another heal on him with a sparkle in her eye. Green energy surrounded and filled him with a resurgence in power, topping off his health.
He struck the boar twice in a row this time. Almost dead, it limped and panted with each breath. But it refused to relinquish or run away.
Two more hits finished it off.
The feral boar gave up its last breath with a whimper and a grunt, falling onto its side. Scarhoof slumped down to the ground when a familiar warmth washed over him, starting at his hooves and extending to his torso. XP rolled in, ticking the bar up slightly.
He looked up at Nitene, who loomed over him with a concerned, but curious expression. She looked as shocked as he felt. “Well, I’ll be. Congratulations, Scarhoof. You’ve progressed. Spiritmother must see great things for you if you were chosen like this. And so late in life, too.”
He ignored the slight at his age. He was too elated; this was stupendous news. All his life he’d wondered what it would be like to be chosen by Her. Too long had he suffered, too long feeling hurt and alone, cast out. But even as he had begun to accept his lot in life, there had always been a yearning for adventure.
The time had arrived for him, and it hurt!
As soon as the euphoric feeling of gaining experience left him, the pains of the previous battle reminded him that he was not a young bull. Fights took more out of him. The bites on his neck, legs and hands burned with a fiery intensity. Blood continued to ooze from the wounds.
Nitene leaned over, cradling his head with her hands, just above his thick neck. Her touch was soft and gentle, but he stiffened nonetheless.
“No mind, Mat
uk, I’m simply … hmm, well I guess that makes sense.” She pulled her hand away and used her apron to clean his blood from her hands.
He looked up at her, the sun blotted out by her frame, casting a cool shadow on his face.
“Something wrong?” He could feel his health depleting. He stood there, his life ticking away like sand in an hourglass. He would need another heal soon and would need to bind the wounds back at the village. Something bright caught his eye from the direction of his fallen foe. He turned to look at it when she spoke.
“It shouldn’t surprise you, but you’re now an adventurer. More than that, you and I now share a unique kinship.”
His heart jumped in his chest. What kind of kinship did they share?
“You are a Shaman, Matuk,” she said with a wink.
Character Update: Matuk Scarhoof is now a Shaman!
New Skill! Mending Force (Core Class Skill):
Heal: 50. Cost: 5. Cast Time: 2. Envelops the target in a spiritual embrace, healing Minor wounds. Also restores 5% Stamina.
Scarhoof sat for a second, his knees weak, his mind racing. He was a Shaman? It was the rarest of the classes for Tau’raj, but also one of the most sacred, most revered. He had so many questions. He couldn’t focus on which one to ask. Did he need instruction? Who would teach him? Was there a shaman school?
Then doubt crept in. He was too old to be selected. Most of those chosen by Spiritmother were young, energetic, ready and willing to travel the world for Her; not bogged down with responsibility, age, and injury.
He was one of three guards in Sunset Cove. After the accident with the barn there would be even more work to be done.
She interrupted his thoughts, pointing at his bleeding back. “I suppose I should teach you your first skill, so you can remove this bleeding, shouldn’t I? Go ahead, stand up now.”
He stood, his health having depleted significantly while he had sat there. He was lightheaded, and his limbs felt heavy. His knees trembled as he struggled to keep his balance.
“Now pay attention.” Nitene turned sideways so he could see the movements of her hands. She spun them counterclockwise while moving her fingers in odd juddering motions that reminded him of the quick movements of a rabbit. She did it again, then a third time. “I know it seems odd, but once you do it a thousand times, you will never think about it. The fingers are the hardest part. Now you try. No, like this, see? Very good, now let’s add the vocals.”
He did as she instructed, without hesitation.
A sudden rush of power enveloped his body as the energy built between his hands released. Inside him, the magic filled him with determination. His health spiked, nearly healing him completely, and renewed vigor flooded his body. Had he cast his first spell?
“Now, one more time. To get rid of the bleeding effect, you have to fully heal. You’re going to need to hit yourself once, then a second time immediately after.”
He did it. The first time felt more natural, but the wave of energy from the second heal felt different, more personal. His skin closed, and the bleeding stopped.
Nitene clapped her hands together and squealed with a girlish delight, something he had never heard from her before. It was like she was a whole new person. She had seemed so studious, almost sullen. Now she was excited, filled with genuine joy.
Watching her clap her hands with giddy delight roused a deep-seated memory that he couldn’t place. For just an instant, a word flashed across his mind before disappearing into the vagueness of history.
Cheerleader.
Shaking away the unstable feeling he had, he smiled at Nitene, then bowed on all fours. Despite it being an overly formal gesture, he felt it was the right thing to do.
She chuffed. “No need for that. We are equals you and I, but I …” She trailed off as she looked at the larger of the two dead boars. “What is that?”
He knew what she was talking about. He had noticed it earlier.
They both sidled up to the dead boar, who’s limp body had stopped twitching. Its open eyes were a disturbing milky white, with striations that seemed to ebb and flow, like a foamy ocean inside a glass globe.
“I’m not sure, but I noticed it while we were fighting.” Scarhoof bent down to get a better look at the back of the boar’s skull where an object was sticking out.
Using his stick, he turned the body of the dead animal over and they both stared.
It seemed to be growing out of its head. It was milky white, like the creature’s eyes. Sunlight bounced off it at odd angles, giving the impression that it was a mixture of different shades of white liquids swirling around each other. Only this was solid and looked like a jagged stone.
Scarhoof bent down and to touch the crystalline looking protrusion. Just before the pad of his finger came in contact with the object, a jolt of energy shot up his arm. He recoiled with a shout.
“You okay?” She looked concerned, and touched him lightly on the forearm, a gesture that shot a very different type of energy through his body.
He stared at his finger as he massaged his forearm. “Yeah, it didn’t hurt, it was … odd, but somehow familiar.” Perhaps he was feeling jumpy after the harrowing events of the day.
He carefully placed his finger on the shard again and waited, but there wasn’t a jolt this time. Instead, a heated pulsing of energy rushed up his arm and into his shoulder. It reminded him of standing on a beach in the heat of the sun while a roiling thundercloud in the distance charged the air. It was power and peace; warm anticipation.
A buff appeared.
Effect Status: Spirit Shardtouch:
+10% to Spirit Abilities. +5% to Fire and Earth Abilities. -5% to Water and Air Abilities. Duration: 10 Minutes.
Scarhoof pondered the message for a moment. He had rarely heard of Spirit Abilities, let alone Affinities. This day was quickly becoming overwhelming. So much had changed in such a short time.
This morning he’d woken up in his guard’s cot, like he’d done for the last twenty years, but instead of laying back down exhausted at the end of a long day, he had helped put out a raging fire, fought off monsters, and now he knew a spell!
He now belonged to an elite class of magic wielders known as Shaman. Even mulling the word over in his mind didn’t fully sink in the gravity of what had happened. He was so lost in thought at all the changes swirling around him, that he didn’t notice Nitene reaching down to touch the shard.
“Ow!” Nitene pulled her hand back, shaking it and doing a sort of shuffling dance.
Scarhoof jumped to his hooves, adrenaline coursing through his veins at the sudden exclamation. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“That thing hurt!” She pointed, her arm trembling. “Wait.” She looked at him with squinted eyes. “It didn’t hurt you?” Her tone was almost accusatory, and he took a step back, raising his hands.
“I don’t know why it didn’t hurt me.”
Her eyes softened, and her demeanor shifted to one of warmth. “It’s because you’re an adventurer, Matuk. You are special—you really are—The Spiritmother is going to have great things for you.”
He noticed she had called him by his tribal name instead of his given name.
She looked back at the village. In the distance, a wisp of smoke still rose from the ashes of the burned down barn. A handful of people were raising up the last of the fences to pen in the pigs. That reminded him, he still needed to complete his quest.
She continued. “You will be leaving us soon. I know that now.” She stared at the barn, her voice hiding a pain that Scarhoof had never heard from her before.
He stepped forward, feeling very tall in her presence. “I won’t leave, I promise.” He took her shaking hand in his, squeezing to punctuate his words.
She turned around, startled by how close he was and took a step back, still retaining a wry smile. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, adventurer. Just promise me you will follow when the Spiritmother comes calling. I know that —” She stopped and turned a
way. “Nevermind, we can talk later.”
She pulled a scarf from inside a pocket in her skirts and handed it to Scarhoof. “Can you wrap the shard in this and hand it back? I think as long as I don’t handle it directly, it won’t affect me like it did before.”
He complied. The shard offered little resistance as he pulled it from the boar’s neck. He wasn’t sure if it had grown there or had been lodged there by force, but it wasn’t buried in very deep. It popped free with a slurping sound and blood dripped from its edge.
He wrapped it in the scarf and handed it back to her.
She frowned, probably because her scarf was now covered in a dead animal’s blood. “Thank you.”
She took it, hesitantly at first. Then, once she verified that it didn’t injure her, she smiled. “I think this will work, but I want to run some tests on it before I make any final judgement. Come see me when you finish your quests. I would like to discuss some things with you that I think might help you on your way.”
She took a single step toward the village, then stopped and turned back. Her face was a mix of emotions, but her eyes were soft and contemplative. Her trembling lip, however, gave away something deeper. “I’m glad for you.” With that she whirled on her hoof and walked away.
Quest Available! A Spreading Sickness:
Check with Nitene after she’s had a chance to look at the shard.
He watched her walk away, lips pursed as he took in the gentle sway of her tail.
“Oh!” Nitene whirled around to face him. She pointed at the stick on the ground next to the boar. “I noticed you were pretty handy with that weapon.”
He glanced at the blood covered stick and shrugged. “It was available.”
She gave him a knowing nod, but something in her eyes told him she had more to say. “It was, wasn’t it? If you are interested, I might suggest a Bo for a weapon. Every adventurer needs a good weapon, right? In fact, I think I know just the one, something that hasn’t been used in a very long time. I’ll leave it with Eldermother.”
