Eloria's Beginning: A LitRPG/GameLit Epic (Enter The louVRe Book 1)

by Tom Hansen

  Training kicked in and Scarhoof dove to the side, unfortunately cancelling his heal as he moved.

  “You Tau’raj must all die. You thought you could hide here in this cove, but I captured and tortured Havren, who gave you up. Your little safe space is going to be my vacation spot when your race falls.”

  Grath’gar slithered forward, pulling his axes again. “I know your limp, Tau’raj. What is your name?”

  Scarhoof finished his roll, coming back to his hooves.

  “My name is Matuk Scarhoof.” He began healing his friend again, but the Nagos swiped at him with the axe, forcing him to back up.

  “Twenty years have I searched for the one who disfigured my face. Twenty years have I had to wonder if my enemy was alive or dead. Twenty years have I hid myself, unable to fight. Could it be that fate has brought us together so that I can finally do what I should have done so many years ago?”

  Memory flooded Scarhoof as he dodged backwards, avoiding the axe blades. He hadn’t been the only one damaged in that fight, there had been a younger Nagos who had taken acid to his face. A Nagos scout that had tried to end Scarhoof’s life.

  “Maybe I am that Tau’raj, but I am no longer young and stupid.”

  Scarhoof struck out with a Spirit Shock at the Nagos. It took off so little health that the Nagos laughed.

  “Pathetic.” He put away his axes and slithered closer. “I shall enjoy demonstrating just how much pain you have caused me.”

  Below was smoke. It might deplete the power of the Nagos. He wanted to stay, to heal Xanovi. But using Grath’gar’s vendetta against him would allow him to draw the Nagos away from his dying party member.

  Scarhoof hopped backwards into the mist, and the Nagos followed. It didn’t seem to have any ill effects on the boss.

  Scarhoof continued to back up through the smoke, he wasn’t able to get line of sight on Xanovi, who’s heath was down to 5% and falling. “Whatever pain you have suffered was your own fault! I was not the one who brought acid to the fight, Grath’gar.” He yelled back. “Why don’t you just leave us in peace? Why do we have to constantly be at war?”

  “War? You call this casual slaughter a war? The Nagos slaughter the Tau’raj, and soon we will have your lands. Eloria will fall to our rule once The Plains fall.”

  The Nagos slithered forward. He was incredibly fast and it took Scarhoof off-guard. Scarhoof tried to dodge but he was on slippery ground. He fell on his back, pain shooting up his spine.

  The Nagos punched, hitting his shoulder. Pain shot through Scarhoof’s arm and blinded him for a moment before he was able to get his emotions in check. A simple punch took off 20% of his health!

  He tried reaching for his weapon, but the constant onslaught wouldn’t allow him to grab it. He was out of options, out of hope, out of time.

  He rolled, narrowly missing another punch from the Nagos. Sliding and slipping across the slick surface, Scarhoof put some distance between them.

  The floor didn’t seem to affect the Nagos at all.

  On the dais, Xanovi’s life was nearly spent.

  Despair gripped Scarhoof. His partner was dying, he was on a slick floor with a powerful Nagos way above his level bearing down on him.

  He stuck his hands into the pool and splashed the Nagos.

  The water hit the Grath’gar square in the face and he let out a scream, clawing to wipe off the water.

  Scarhoof jumped to the lip of the pool and from this height was just able to see Xanovi’s body. He cast Mending Force, healing him to 11%. “Xanovi!” Scarhoof screamed as he cast again.

  The Nagos lashed out with his balled fists striking Scarhoof in the side.

  Scarhoof fell, splashing down into the darkened pool. Everything went black.

  All his senses quenched as the viscous water enveloped him. Sound cut off and pain dissipated. He couldn’t tell up from down. Behind him, he felt his bo slip from its holster and fall away.

  He flailed his arms, reaching for his bo but it was gone. His brand new bo, lost to the waters. His health continued to drop. He tried to cast Mending Force, but water filled his mouth, preventing him from verbalizing the spell.

  Suddenly, a strong arm plunged into the water, grabbing onto his leathers.

  Chapter 15

  Scarhoof broke through the surface gasping for breath. His vision cloudy from the syrupy water. He coughed and sputtered as he tried to get it out of his lungs.

  He tried opening his eyes, but they were covered in the viscous liquid.

  “Thank … you.”

  “Do not thank me, Scarfoot.” Grath’gar’s guttural, slithering accent replied, ringing in his ears. He coughed and gasped. All the pain, both mental and physical rushed back into him.

  Something smashed into Scarhoof’s head, lancing pain through his skull. His health plummeting and crumpled to the ground.

  He flailed, trying to grab onto something, anything. Another blow to his head, lancing through his face and down his back, his heath at 25%.

  Something large and sturdy poked into his back without breaking his skin. The trident. Scarhoof struggled to move but the slick surface and the large weight on top of him pinned him in place. He struggled to breath.

  The Nagos above him slithered side to side. “If I had known you were still alive all these years, I would have come to find you sooner, Matuk Scarfoot.”

  Scarhoof kicked out, trying to damage the Nagos. “Come here you bastard. It’s Scarhoof!”

  “My Aros isn’t quite as good as yours. I had to relearn to how to speak with half my face missing. Do you know what it is like, having a loss of basic function; losing half your sight and forever avoiding eye contact with your race? The constant jabs, the comments. But the pity, that is the worst. I never wanted their pity, and now I have their respect.”

  Scarhoof watched, unable to move as the Nagos reared back and punched Scarhoof in his side. 20% Health.

  “You took my life that day, but I regained it. Your failed attempt gave me purpose. Because of me, our goal is no longer occupation, but utter annihilation. You gave that gift to your race.”

  Scarhoof gritted his teeth through the pain. “We both lost something that day. Perhaps we should see about finishing it.”

  The Nagos punched him again in the side. 15% Health.

  “Oh, I don’t think so. You see I want you to be alive when you see what I have for the Eldermother.”

  The weight from Scarhoof’s back released, and he twisted immediately, swinging out with his good leg and both arms, catching nothing but air.

  Bright light filled the cavern. Arcing electricity slammed into his chest, throwing him backward into a stalagmite.

  Blinding pain wracked his body. Every muscle convulsed with the blow. He couldn’t think of anything but the pain, the all-enveloping pain. His jaw was broken.

  5% Health. The pain would soon end.

  The Nagos slithered away into the shadows, the echo of his scales ringing off the walls in the distance.

  Scarhoof tried to watch him, but his eyes wouldn’t move. He tried casting something, Mending Force, Spirit Shock, anything at all, but his broken mouth refused to obey.

  Grath’gar’s voice echoed quietly from the distance. “Do you hear that, Scarfoot? Do you hear them coming to save you?”

  Scarhoof heard. The distinct clatter of hooves on stone reverberated around the cavern.

  Xanovi’s health was at 2% again. He didn’t have long to live.

  Scarhoof gritted his teeth, willing himself to move. He grunted, and a sound finally made it out of his mouth, a guttural groan, but closer to verbalizing his powers. He needed to try to heal his companion.

  “Now you be quiet, Old Matuk. I wouldn’t want you to miss the show.”

  The voice came from right behind him, just to his right ear. Brain-splitting pain lanced through his jaw as the Nagos sliced into his mouth.

  Effect Status: Bleeding! Minus 1 Health/Second.

  He was at 2% health. Scarhoof’
s eyes began to close. They wanted to close, but he willed them open. He couldn’t let his friends be caught off-guard.

  “Scarhoof?” the voice was male. It wasn’t Nitene or Eldermother. More hoofsteps.

  It was Kardkaw. How had he healed so quickly? He was supposed to be resting.

  “Kard…” Scarhoof managed to whisper from his broken mouth. “Kaw.”

  1% Health. Bleeding

  “Scarhoof!” Kardkaw came around the corner. His arm was bandaged, and he walked with a new limp, but it was him, up and moving.

  “Kaw.”

  Scarhoof called out, screamed at his old friend, but the old bull didn’t see the danger he was in. He couldn’t hear Scarhoof.

  The old bull ran to him, slipping on the wet stone and skidding to a stop. “Hold on there bud—”

  Lightning seared through the air, striking Kardkaw in the torso. Sparks lit up the cave in a macabre light show of death. Scarhoof watched in horror as his friend, who had been seconds away from death earlier in the day, was killed by the evil Nagos.

  It was the last thing Scarhoof saw. The image burned into his retinas, his best friend dying just a meter from him.

  “Matuk. Matuk, can you hear me?”

  His head hurt, and his jaw ached, but he was alive.

  Nitene’s concerned face was over him. He was still in the cave, and dozens of voices spoke over one another.

  Panic welled in his chest and he struggled to move. Nitene put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay down.”

  “Nagos. Kardkaw.” Darkness closed in around him.

  Nitene’s face took on a morose expression. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but we got here too late. I couldn’t save him. I barely saved you, and Xanovi…” her face wore the burden as she looked toward the dais. “He left after we couldn't save his pet, I was too late for him. I was too late for both of them, Scarhoof.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, but she wiped them with the cuff of her dress, blinking to keep the rest from pouring out.

  Scarhoof struggled to sit. He had to stand, had to get up. He couldn’t lie there like some decrepit old bull.

  “Easy there.” She helped hoist Scarhoof to his hooves.

  Kardkaw’s body was gone. The Nagos was nowhere to be seen.

  “Lean on me, I can help you.” Nitene offered her shoulder.

  Scarhoof shoved her out of the way. “I can walk. I’m not lame.”

  He regretted the action as soon as he did it. She did not deserve his scorn. She had saved his life, but he was too angry to think.

  He took a step, cautious, then another. His legs worked again, but his heart ached.

  Grief threatened to take him with each step.

  He walked forward a few steps before dropping to both knees, at the darkened scorch on the rock.

  Emotions welled up inside him, threatening to overwhelm his aching muscles. Kardkaw only had to stay and rest and he would still be alive.

  I failed him, again.

  Once again, the most basic task of protecting those in the village, and he wasn’t up to the task.

  “Scarhoof—”

  He put up his hand, silencing Nitene. “I just need a minute. I will be—.” His throat clenched, cutting off the last word as he fought back the emotions that threatened to explode out of him.

  She nodded and took a step back in silence. He knew he shouldn’t shun her, knew he should take her offer of assistance. There would be consequences for his actions, but right now he needed to pay his respects.

  Quest Complete! Killer Kobolds:

  The Kobolds are no longer a threat to Sunset Cove. (Gained 250 XP!)

  Quest Update! Mysterious Blue Scale:

  The Nagos Grath’gar Zoran no longer seems to be a threat to Sunset Cove. Still, you don't feel satisfied leaving things as they are. Find the Nagos who killed your friends and ensure he never takes another Tau'raj life again. (Gained 250 XP!)

  Level Up! You are now Level Five!

  +100 Health. +100 Stamina. +100 Mana. +1 Talent Point (Note: Talents will not be unlocked until Level 10). XP Needed for next level: 600.

  Chapter 16

  Scarhoof barely noticed the dozens of Tau’raj bustling about, moving furniture, setting logs, and prepping food for the bonfire mere minutes away.

  He wanted to be mindful, wanted to be present, but the events of the past day conspired to tether his mind. He was unable to move on.

  He glanced down at the new oak bo, a replacement for the one Nitene had gifted him earlier today. It felt wrong, holding it. Another reminder of how he couldn’t hold onto anything he cared about.

  People talked about him as-if he wasn’t there. He didn’t care. They could think him pathetic, think him too old or infirm.

  None of that mattered. None of it compared to the depth of anguish in his soul.

  Grath’gar had vanished after killing Kardkaw. He had run, leaving Scarhoof alive to wallow in despair. Why should he live when others died around him?

  What had he done to deserve life while his friends had lost theirs? Maybe they would have done a better job of making the Cove safe, maybe then nothing would have changed.

  He looked up at the moon, glaring at its stoicism. Its clear white light shone down on his people. He hated that he could see it. It should have been Kardkaw sitting here right now, enjoying yet another bonfire festival.

  “Scarhoof.” It was Nitene. Her voice cautious, calm, and hesitant, like she approached a feral animal.

  He felt feral, backed into a corner. He felt like snapping at her, asking her to leave him alone.

  Why did you have to save me?

  “I know you don’t want to talk, but you’re the ranking bull here now, and we need you to light the fire.”

  He flashed her an angry glare, instantly regretting it. It wasn’t her fault Kardkaw was dead. It was his.

  She looked at him with hurt in her eyes, as-if he had slapped her; incredulous and frustrated. She pursed her lips.

  He took a deep breath, not wanting to leave her upset. He forced his heartbeat slower, centering himself. Finally, he stood.

  “Nitene, I am sorry.”

  She frowned, turning away. He could see the conflict in her face. The two had shared a moment earlier, before attacking the Kobolds. Before more lives had been lost. Before his world had gone to hell.

  He snorted, spun on his bad hoof to purposely shoot pain up his leg, and strode to the stack of wood on the beach.

  Eldermother was there, waving incense around the perimeter. She didn’t say anything, only looked up and met his eyes. Her mouth was drawn to a line. Now that he knew they were related, the similarities were impossible to ignore.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to scream, wanted to run. He wanted to take the fight to the Nagos. Twenty years he had been at his post with no issues. Twenty years the battle had raged on outside of the safety of the Cove. Twenty years of not truly helping his race.

  Twenty years of growing soft, playing with the Tau’ri, and tending the fields.

  But there were no more guards for the Cove. He couldn’t just abandon them. He had to stay and do his duty for his race. He would head back out to the guard station now, to take over all the responsibilities, bury his friends in the shade of the Cove.

  Eldermother called to the crowd. “Come, come, everyone. The moon is nearly at her peak. Time to start the bonfire.” She nodded at Scarhoof.

  It was a simple gesture, but it improved his mood slightly.

  She handed him the striker and pointed toward the torch in its holder. He bent down, first one knee, then the next, pain lancing through his bad leg.

  He closed his eyes as Eldermother chanted.

  “Spiritmother is all, to all.”

  He struck once as the crowd recited the phrase back. Everyone else seemed calm, and Scarhoof hoped he was the only one with such massive turmoil racking his thoughts.

  He opened his eyes, looking around. He watched the Tau’ri, kneeling in the front, t
aking the occasional peek up through their downturned manes.

  None of them seemed to have any idea of the danger they had been in just an hour ago. It was probably for the best. They were too young to understand.

  “Spiritmother is one, to one.”

  He struck again, the sparks flying and catching in the dried moss of the torch. They lingered there for a moment before snuffing out.

  He took a deep breath in, trying to center his thoughts. He was performing a sacred ritual. He needed to concentrate.

  He said a quick prayer.

  Spiritmother give me strength. Spiritmother give me peace. Spiritmother give me wisdom so I may continue on another day.

  “Spiritmother is one to all.”

  He struck again, keeping his eyes closed. He felt the flash of heat dissipate. It would light when She was ready for it to light. When everyone was focused and present.

  He was calming down, focusing on the here and now, opening his heart to the ritual, to the sanctity of the situation, to the service of others.

  Spiritmother give me strength. Spiritmother give me peace. Spiritmother give me wisdom so I may continue on another day.

  “Spiritmother is all, to one.”

  He struck a fourth time. The flare was larger this time. Singing the fur on his face and forearms. It had a ferocity, like it wanted to stay. He focused on the heat, on the fire before him. He felt it catch, then waver.

  Spiritmother give me strength. Spiritmother give me peace. Spiritmother give me wisdom so I may continue on another day.

  Heat faded in front of him and his heart sank. It would require another strike. It had never taken more than four strikes before. He knew it was his fault that She refused the call.

  Suddenly, the heat flared back at him as a small breeze whipped the air in front of him.

  To his side, he heard a whisper. “I have found you. I am here for you. I will not leave you.”

  It was clear and distant, a female voice. He couldn’t place the accent nor the language, but it was familiar.