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

by Tom Hansen

  Level Up! You are now Level Eight!

  +100 Health. +100 Stamina. +100 Mana. +1 Talent Point (Note: Talents will not be unlocked until Level 10). XP Needed for next level: 900.

  New Skill! Spirit Tether Bind:

  Cost: 100 Spirit. Bind yourself to a specific spot in the world. Bind point must be attuned with Spirit. Once bound, you can use Recall spells to travel to the bind point..

  New Skill! Spirit Tether Recall:

  Cost: 100 Spirit. Recall to your bind point instantly. Bind point must be attuned with Spirit.

  New Skill! SpiritDream Travel:

  Once tether has been bound, you can travel to the SpiritDream.

  New Resource Bar! Spirit. Current Spirit: 101.

  Quest Update! A Spreading Sickness:

  The method the boss is using seems important, share this information with Haliin. (Gained 50 XP!)

  Quest Update! The Fight for the Eternal Plains:

  The Nagos Race is amassing on the shore of the Eternal Plains. The time has come to defend your homeland from enemy invasion. Optional: The Nagos seem to have found a way to do massive harm to the Tau’raj, tipping the balance in their favor. Find a way to help save lives and bring balance to the fight. (Gained 50 XP!)

  “Is he alright?” Scarhoof sat on the ground where two soldiers had shoved him. The two sharp swords pointed at his head warning him to stay that way.

  Chieftain Bloodhorn looked up at the two guards. “He’s not a threat. Let him go.”

  The guards glared at him with menacing looks, sheathed their swords, and took a couple steps back. He was pretty sure they were the two that had confronted him when he was trying to see the Chieftain.

  “Look, I’m sorry, Haliin. It’s just that—”

  Haliin put a wavering hand up. “I understand. I didn’t realize the sacrifice you and your party had gone through for this. I apologize for getting so focused on the prize that I didn’t think about the cost.”

  The Chieftain looked between the two, a grave expression on his face.

  Scarhoof looked at the large white shard, delicately balanced on its timbers in the ground. “Did they get the other two?”

  Bloodhorn nodded. “I have mages disrupting this one though, so that they can’t take it.”

  “Good, because we’re going to need it.”

  Haliin, his face still contorted in a bit of pain, ventured an interjection. “Have you figured out what they are planning on doing with the shards?”

  “Not yet, but I think it will have something to do with sea water.”

  “Sea water?”

  Scarhoof indicated the destroyed troughs around the edge of the battle zone and filled the two in on how the Nagos had used them against his party.

  “And do we know if it affects you?”

  Scarhoof shrugged. “Sorry to say, Chieftain, we’re fresh out of seawater, but my gut feeling is that it won’t. If anything, it’ll give me a buff. If we have any water, I’m willing to be tested, but right now I’m more worried about how this will be used on our troops.”

  Scarhoof paused, looking down at the body now covered with a sheet. The sorrow of their lost party member still stung. “Sir, about Hanrahan.”

  Bloodhorn frowned. “She was a good soldier, always there for us. Bit of an oddball I’m afraid, but most Dwarves are. I’ll contact the Dwarven Emissary in Whistling Pass to arrange for her to be sent home for proper burial.” He paused, concern sweeping over his face. “She was royalty, distant niece of the King I believe, and this might harm relations between us and them.”

  Scarhoof took a step forward. “I’d like to accompany her, Sir. I feel I owe her that protection. Once we’re done here, of course.”

  “It’s on the other side of the world and it may be a while. We can’t do anything about it with this imminent threat, but I will see what I can arrange when the time comes.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  Quest Available! Escorting the Dead:

  Hanrahan Onyxjaw has fallen in battle, and her body needs to be taken back to her family across the sea. Escort her body and give condolences to her remaining kin. Find a way to honor her legacy.

  “No, thank you. You are coming into your own, Scarhoof. I know the loss hurts now, the many losses, but that is war. There are always casualties that keep me up at night, a good leader knows to process the pain. Death reminds us just how precious life truly is. Here one moment, gone the next. It’s but a fleeting cycle in the Regeneration of Life.”

  A soldier came up to them. “Sir, Commander Skysong requests your presence.”

  Bloodhorn nodded. “Of course.” He then turned to the two sitting on the ground. “I trust you two won’t punch each other while I’m gone?”

  Scarhoof smiled, the first time in what seemed like a long time. It felt good. The last couple days had been hell for him. His back ached, and his lame leg throbbed. All the excitement had him distracted, but now that there was some downtime the pain threatened to take over his thoughts.

  “Sir, I leveled up and I would like to get to my trainer so I can learn new spells before we move out. Is there a mage that can teleport me?”

  “That won’t be necessary. Hillbender is here, at the front gate assisting with healing. You can find him yourself.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  The two watched their Chieftain walk away in silence.

  “I really am sorry I punched you.”

  Haliin chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you back. One of these days I’m sure you’ll piss me off. Now, go over everything you’ve done since you left. I heard some things from the messenger from the forward crag, but I trust your account more than I do others.”

  Quest Update! A Spreading Sickness:

  You shared your updated knowledge with Haliin Earthwhisper. Continue learning more about the shards! (Gained 50 XP!)

  Hillbender sat on a stool, eyes closed and head resting back on an armor stand, his wispy strands of white hair blowing in the gentle breeze. By all rights he appeared to be asleep when Scarhoof approached him.

  “My intrepid trainee returns, stronger this time.”

  “It’s quiet up here. Did they leave?” Scarhoof pointed at the wall in front of them, the entrance to the quarry. Above them, on the embankments, stood a row of Tau’raj archers, dutifully scouting outside the quarry, bows at the ready.

  “They did. There was a bit of a scuffle right at the beginning, then they all left. Must have gotten new orders. I have to say, it’s a bit disconcerting being on the inside of this Nagos-built base.”

  The comment reminded Scarhoof of a question he had wanted to ask before he came here. “Did you serve much?”

  Hillbender smiled, his wrinkled face soft in the late evening light. “No. I follow a different path and serve by training new Shaman. I leave military matters to our Chieftain and his Commanders, but I have spent my fair time near the front lines of the battles. I was there the day you injured your leg.”

  “You were?”

  Hillbender nodded, gazing down at Scarhoof’s leg with a pained look on his face. “Aye, I wasn’t high enough level at the time to properly heal you. Now, well, I would have been able to help more if it happened again.”

  Emotion bubbled up inside of him, trying to push out.

  “Seeing you be sent off in that wagon back to Whistling Pass was a painful day for me as a Shaman. I regretted not being able to cure you, and I used that pain to force myself to train every day to push my boundaries of magic, to grow, to improve.”

  Hillbender nudged the tip of a rock that jutted out of the dark earth with his hoof. “It’s funny the things you remember. I don’t remember your leg as much as I remember your face. The dejected look you wore, knowing you wouldn’t fight on the front lines again was the impetus to keep me focused through years of training.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  Hillbender nodded. “I heard about the Dwarf. Do not blame yourself, my student. You did your best with what
you had.”

  “But it wasn’t enough.”

  With a bit of labor, Hillbender stood, clapping Scarhoof on the shoulder. “I want you to remember this grief you bear. You have a choice. Do you wallow in self-pity, blaming circumstances beyond your control for what happened, or do you take this chance to learn from mistakes made? Do you improve yourself so that next time, you aren’t in the same situation?

  “Do you take this pain, the anguish of loss, and use it to fuel pity and self-loathing, or commitment and drive?”

  He put his other hand on his shoulder, leaning in close, locking horns. “I once stood where you are, and look where the Spiritmother has led you. I have a chance to make things right with you. Train you so that you can carry on the legacy. Embrace the pain now, Matuk Scarhoof. Embrace the pain and make it a part of you. Remember that when you wake and when you go to sleep. Remember it when you hurt, are tired, or distracted.”

  He pulled away, holding him at arm’s length.

  Scarhoof felt the tightness in his chest, the watery eyes threatening to release. He felt like a Tau’ri again, barely able to maintain his emotions.

  Hillbender looked back at him with those wise eyes, those deep, soulful, knowing eyes. “But most of all, my pupil, remember to not let it consume you. Do not let this one instance, this one pain in life, become your singular focus. You were not the only soldier I failed. There were some before, and many after. That she-Dwarf that died won’t be the last, and you are going to have to come to grips with that. Do you understand?”

  Scarhoof took in a long, slow breath. The words were there, he understood them, but he also recognized that he lacked the depth of experience to truly follow them.

  He nodded. “I do, guru. I will remember.”

  Hillbender dropped his hands and wrung them together like he was trying to warm them. “Good, now that that is over, we can begin your training once again.”

  He placed one hand back on Scarhoof’s shoulder and locked horns with him again, pulling him down to the earth where he touched the ground with his free hand.

  Scarhoof felt the sharp crack of magic as they were teleported through the aether.

  Chapter 33

  He wasn’t ready for the training floor to be right there. Dirt to wood, battle formations to serene dojo.

  His stomach roiled in knots at the teleport and he stumbled backwards like he was kicked in the gut, unable to breathe. He took a step back, then doubled over, falling onto his back.

  Hillbender stood there, towering over him. “You know I really shouldn’t give you enough time to recover. Our enemies won’t grant you that blessing.”

  Scarhoof looked up, then around at Hillbender’s basement, wishing they didn’t have to teleport to get here. His mind swam, trying to make sense of it all. He knew mages had portal spells, but he didn’t know Shamans also had that ability.

  He got up, feeling behind him for his bo. His arms weak from the teleport. He tried to pull it from the harness, but it was stuck. He yanked, finally wrenching it free from its sheath and squared off against his teacher.

  “You are right, guru. Hanrahan wouldn’t like me sitting around either.”

  Hillbender smiled, flexing his hands into fists. He crouched down, knees pointed directly away from his side and opened his palm, beckoning his pupil over.

  “Then stop talking and hit me.”

  Despite a quarter hour of sparring at the beginning the vast majority of his training this time was in meditation, defensive postures, and staff drills.

  Scarhoof found the cool, serene dojo beneath the ground to be the perfect place for contemplation. Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes to hours as they knelt facing north, at the mountainous form of the Spiritmother, Tau’moor where she lay in eternal slumber.

  Finally, they moved onto the actual instruction.

  Hillbender now sat in a chair, while Scarhoof maintained his position on the ground. “That bit of magic I used to bring you back here is the next spell in your arsenal, and it culminates your first of four Awakenings as a Shaman.

  “The first spell you learned, Mending Force, was a core class skill, one of a healer. It is a balance spell, to counteract all the hurt and pain of the world.

  “The second, Spirit Shock, gave you the ability to harness Spirit energies into the ability to damage. Though it’s uses are many, through its power you now have a way to destroy should you need it.

  “The third, Tendrils, is a defensive ability, allowing you to keep your enemies at bay. While it does a mild amount of damage, it’s main use is to hold your enemies long enough to grant you time to escape, thus sparing two lives from one spell.

  “Finally, the last ability you learned, Yantra, comes in many forms, some of which you have yet to discover, but they are power incarnate, Spirit made powerful through word and focus.”

  Hillbender took a long, slow breath. The weight of the conversation seemed to shift slightly, from serious to heavy. “This all culminates in your fifth and final ability in the cycle, Spirit’s Path.”

  He stood, his hands clasped behind him while he paced. “This one is a special ability, as the fifth one always is. How you use these abilities will define how you, as a Shaman, work. These are unique abilities whose mastery will require all of your study and attention.”

  He stood behind Scarhoof, placing his hands atop his head.

  “Are you ready, my student?”

  “I am, guru.”

  “I must warn you this will not be pleasant.” His face was serious, somber.

  Scarhoof nodded. He’d lived through unpleasantness.

  Hillbender walked over to a small table and picked up a familiar looking container. “Remember when I said I don’t normally send my trainees to the Horned Crag at such a low level? It wasn’t just for the exercise, I sent you there to obtain Mother’s Milk, which grants many unique abilities. One of which is to open your mind to the ritual we are about to perform.”

  He held the familiar skin out to Scarhoof, who took it. “Drink as much as can.”

  Scarhoof did, emptying the entire skin into his stomach. He hadn’t realized how tired and thirsty he was. The water was sweet and pure.

  Effect Status: Spiritsight:

  +100% to Spirit Abilities. Grants user sight beyond mortal limits. Other Effects Unknown. Duration: 1 Hour.

  Hillbender began to chant, first in a low mumble, reciting intelligible verse over and over. His voice grew louder and louder until a brilliant white light began to form above Scarhoof’s head. It was warm and inviting, full of life, clarity, and purpose.

  Hillbender continued to chant, raising the volume of his voice in a fever pitch, until he was nearly shouting in the enclosed space.

  The warmth from the spiritual energy began to descend, passing through Hillbender’s hand and into Scarhoof’s head.

  The power was intense, and Scarhoof’s mouth shot open as the air in his lungs expanded in a rush of heat and light. He felt every orifice in his head burning with the brilliance of Spirit. Behind the heat was Hillbender’s chanting, pounding into his ears the powerful spell.

  Then it was silent. Darkness filled the void between his ears, eyes, and mouth as Scarhoof struggled to regain his breath. Shadows danced in his vision, forming familiar and unfamiliar humanoid shapes.

  The shadow took his breath from him. After hours of concentrating on such a life-sustaining practice, not having it was mind-numbingly painful. He panicked, fire building in his chest as his body began to spasm. It was like he knew he needed to breathe, but he’d forgotten how.

  Breathe!

  A sharp blow to his back sent a shock through his chest.

  “Breathe!”

  He tried. His lungs burned, refusing to obey. He clutched at his neck, clawing, groping, trying to get it to respond.

  Another sharp blow to his back, this one sending pain shooting through his extremities, and made his heart jump.

  “Scarhoof! Breathe Now.” Hillbender screamed at him
, gripping him by the horns and yanking back. He forced his mouth open.

  Scarhoof tried, but nothing was happening. He felt himself shutting down, his brain starved of air.

  Hillbender punched him in the gut.

  Spasms racked his chest as his muscles responded to the direct threat.

  He punched him again.

  His whole body bucked, and for a long second, Scarhoof thought he would die. Then his body contracted, sucking air into his parched and burning lungs. The cold air froze him, filling his lungs.

  He gasped out, then shuddered as his tension-wracked body finally succumbed to the trauma.

  Scarhoof didn’t know how long he had been asleep, but when he woke, he knew he wasn’t in Helu Hillbender’s home anymore.

  For one, the whole place smelled like Nagos, a slightly-rotten fishy smell. Secondly, there was far too much noise. Despite his many years away from the front lines, he would never forget the din of the army as it prepared to go to war. The shuffling hooves, the nervous clink of weapons, and the forced conversations among soldiers trying to ignore the fact that they might die that day.

  “You’re awake.”

  Scarhoof opened his eyes to a small wooden enclosure. Sounds of soldiers right outside and the sunlight streaming in told him it was somewhere around midday.

  Hillbender had changed from his meditation robes to a leather harness. He looked ready for battle.

  Scarhoof sat up, his head still swimming.

  “Careful there, son. I did warn you it would be unpleasant.”

  Scarhoof rubbed at the painful burning in his chest. “Apparently we don’t speak the same language.”

  His guru gave him smile. “Others have had it worse, I assure you. Most students have to be revived after such an encounter. You did well, and the lung pain should abate over a couple of days.”