Cast Touch of Life on self.
800 health restored.
Bleeding debuff removed.
HP: 2955/3500.
I was both loathing and loving the fact that it was less effective than Ky-Len’s, after all it didn’t have a chance to bury, explode, or otherwise kill me. Without waiting I started again, missing my window of opportunity and getting hit with another wave of poison.
-1000 poison damage.
HP: 1955/3500.
“You can do it, I assure you.” Flari said confidently as he started tending the garden again.
Only barely stopping myself from growling something at the gentle-hearted man, I started the spell once more, but again, out of either frustration or simply poor timing, I was hit again.
-1000 poison damage.
HP: 955/3500.
As counterintuitive as it was, I stopped to take a deep breath and, as calmly as I could, I restarted the spell, letting go of the fear that I could die, and simply planning for what I’d do when I woke up in my room.
I was one with the universe, and the universe was one with me.
Oh Gods… I’ve just realised what happened.
He’d infected me with hippy.
Cast Touch of Life on self.
800 health restored.
All debuffs removed.
HP: 1755/3500.
I was suddenly deeply craving green tea, but that was a symptom that I could work on later.
“You did it!” Flari shouted happily, “I was worried there for a second.”
Funnily enough, not one part of me wanted to flip out at him, instead I smiled and laughed, “Yeah, aha, as was I. But I pulled through.”
“That you did.” Flari said as he ran his hand across my arm.
Flari Tomn healed you.
Full health restored.
HP: 3500/3500.
“As you grow wiser, the stronger your magic will get. Soon you will be able to cure all of your ailments with a single spell, as well as completely heal your body and with it, your mind.”
“Thank you Ma- Flari,” I said with a bow, “it’s been an honour.”
“You’re welcome child, may the Path be as rewarding to you as it was to me.”
Mission Completed: Hippy Class.
+150 XP.
Progress: 1220/3500.
After I left Flari to his gardening and proceeded to return to my room, an electrified sword, two fighting mages, and a mage surrounded by a green glow had all been carved into my door since I’d left, and it felt good.
Sure none of it had been that difficult but at the same time I felt like I’d gotten a fair bit done. As I laid down in my bed I thought about the hours and hours that must’ve sped by while I expanded my mind and got a few steps closer to my goal.
It was in that moment, right as I was about to close my eyes, that I shot up and realised what an idiot I was being. I smiled as I pulled out my journal and removed yet another thing off my list.
“Two down,” I sighed as I put my head back down on the pillow and let my eyes slowly shut, “five to go.”
Kylia: Chapter 3
I got up after I logged off and discovered that I was shockingly far less sore than the night before, and it was only once I stepped out of the Rig Room and looked at the clock that I noticed why.
“Ten to ten…” I muttered laughingly as I made for the kettle, “remarkable.”
Always the way, innit? Either you play for hours and it feels like minutes, or you play for minutes and it feels like hours. The game-time continuum is a strange beast indeed.
Half hour passed by and I enjoyed a brew and some biscuits, found a piece of pizza in the fridge and devoured that too. From there I started to grow bored, and I know, I know, ‘Go back to the game!’ you cry, ‘You need to make money!’
To tell you the truth I really wanted to jump back in, truly, but I also wanted to go out, maybe shop online for something stupid, a large part of me wanted to masturbate but that seemed to be a bit of a counterproductive use of my computer. The point is I was overwhelmed, there was so much I could do with the use of my body and being free of the hospital, and I wanted to do it all.
But the game had me anchored.
I suppose that was the biggest thing I wanted to have.
Work.
I wanted to have to be somewhere, to have to do something productive with my time that didn’t make my eyes want to bleed, but at the same time I was worried that if I got too far from my computer all Hell would break loose and I’d be screwed all over again.
As much as I was doing better, just in terms of being able to plan out a schedule that I was hoping would structure my life better, I was also in a state of euphoric fear. Weird, I know, but that’s the best way to describe it.
Free to do whatever I wanted, but I was also free to do whatever I wanted. There was too much and too little at the same time. I was seriously contemplating jumping out my window so gravity to could make the rest of my life’s decisions when suddenly my phone rang.
‘Suddenly my phone rang’? I suppose it wasn’t sudden for the phone, only for me, which was something that I thought on long enough for the call to ring out.
I was about to have an existential crisis about missing the call when it started ringing again and I clambered for it, juggling it for a second before catching it surely and pushing it to my ear without hitting answer, resulting in me getting blasted with my incredibly loud ringtone while the phone vibrated so hard it felt like my teeth were going to get shaken loose.
I corrected my mistake and said as sweetly as I could “Good morning, Kylia speaking.”
“Miss Redmond!” a delighted woman said down the line, “Thank goodness I caught you, I thought that something awful might’ve happened.”
“Aha, not yet. I’m sorry, but who’s calling?”
“Oh, my apologies, normally start calls with introductions. I’m Alison Jeffords from the Good Morning London program, have you heard of it?”
I didn’t want to admit that one of my favourite things to do before all the mess that started with the romance and the arrest was get up on a Saturday morning at six and watch the light-hearted morning news show. I was worried admitting I liked any kind of news program would make me sound old and weird.
“Miss Redmond?”
“Yes! Sorry, I love your show, watch it every Saturday.”
‘Real smooth Kylia, real smooth.’
“I’m glad to hear it,” Alison laughed, “the reason for my call was actually to see if you wanted to do an interview with us?”
Words could not begin to describe how excited I was at the prospect of being on Good Morning London, but at the same time I remembered my last experience with public speaking and kind of shrivelled into a ball.
“Um…”
“I’m sure you’re worried about everything that happened with that press release last time,” she said soothingly, Goddamn mind reader, “but I promise that things will be very different. For one thing our live audience is rather timid.”
“Live audience?” I gulped.
Alison laughed, “Yes, that’s what we call our cameraman. My point is that there will be very little anyone can do. MP escort to and from the station, guards on all the doors. It’ll just be you and Kenneth. As a producer I’ll have to stay out of sight, that’s why they pay me so well!”
She was doing a pretty good job of convincing me, and before I could stop myself I said “I’d love to.”
“Fantastic. It’ll be tomorrow at about three AM, but don’t worry too much about getting all dressed up or breakfast, we’ll make sure you’re all pretty and fed when you get here. See you in the morning!”
My phone beeped and she was gone. For a few seconds there, maybe even a minute, I simply stood there holding the phone to my ear, but then a smile spread across my face and I started dancing around like an idiot.
I wanted to call everyone from work and rub it in their faces because I am the most humble person ever as I’m su
re you’ve gathered, but first I wanted to call Gerald. I’d scrolled through my contacts for a second before I remembered I didn’t have his number.
Thinking that I was some kind of big stupid idiot for not getting it I turned to the fridge in the hope of finding ice cream and other assorted comfort foods. But no, instead what happened was I opened the freezer and discovered that a piece of paper had been caught between the doors.
Cue deus ex machina, but I swear it happened.
It was a note, and written under a phone number was something that for some reason made my heart swell.
‘Figured you might need this,
love,
Grand Gerry the Good’
Whether it was because notes were so rare at that point, and when they were used it was to convey instructions from angry bosses, or if it was simply because I was a bit of an emotionally sensitive dork after the phone call.
Based on how icky I felt about sending a text, I figured it was the first one, but I couldn’t exactly send him a letter or call him at work. I’d been on the other end of that line and I knew how hard it was to stay nice while trying to hide your head from your workmates.
After sending the text, coupled with a racy photo to make myself feel better about doing something so impersonal, I decided I’d jump back in the game. I was flipping like pancakes, I knew that, but at the same time knowing that I had other stuff coming up made it seem really important that I squeeze in as much game time as possible.
So, while still riding the high I got from the interview invite, I jumped back in and got ready to kick things up into fifth gear.
Armelia: Chapter 10
I practically shot out of my bed and started my search for Vilor who, unsurprisingly, was standing right outside my door once again, a serious look on his face and a scroll in his hand.
“Evening druid.” he said coldly, handing me the scroll, “It’s been brought to my attention that you might be looking for this.”
Received Map to Ministry of Druidic Affairs.
Thrilled as I was, I looked to Vilor in confusion, “Thank you, but why?”
“Well, according to someone who shall remain nameless, you plan to go to the Ministry of Druidic Affairs. I only thought that I should make the task easier for you.”
I stuffed the map into my knapsack and maintained my confused expression, “But… I fully plan to complete my training here. Do you not believe that the lessons taught here will have more merit than those at the MoDA?”
I was lying through my teeth of course, I was sure I would learn a great deal more at the MoDA, and without the casual racism I knew the experience would be better for me. But the last thing I wanted was to lose out on the opportunity to master a guild, which simply felt like a good thing to have under my belt.
Clearly my pampering worked though, as a smile twitched on Vilor’s face before quickly vanishing, “Alright, I suppose you’re right in that what you learn here will be of a much more academic nature. Very well, your third class will start soon in front of the college, I expect to see you there.”
“You will.” I said with a bow.
Mission Started: Final Class.
Objective added: Meet Your Class in Front of the Girit Mage’s College.
The vagueness of the time meant to me that it was a ‘Get there and we’ll be there’ type of situation, and with the high I was on I had no choice but to run.
As funny as it was, I was a tad upset when I got outside and saw Vilor waiting despite the fact that I’d overtaken him inside. No matter, I was there to learn, not to question random teleportation.
Progress made in mission: Final Class.
Objective completed: Meet Your Class in Front of the Girit Mage’s College.
Objective added: Complete Vilor’s Final Lesson.
“Today,” Vilor shouted at everyone in the line of students, “we will discover who has the ability to count themselves among the prestigious ranks of mage. This will be your hardest lesson yet, and something that I’m sure some of you aren’t ready for. Magic waits for no one though, and if you are unable to complete this task then there’s no reason for you to be here.”
It was almost painful, but I managed to stop myself from saying something that I was pretty sure would’ve resulted in some kind of weird punishment, like getting a stomach full of frogs or worse… expelled. I’m just kidding, a stomach full of frogs would suck.
“I am about to summon daemons, one the most dangerous of the ones available to us. The succubus.”
The class around me audibly gulped while I smiled at the opportunity to go toe-to-toe with one of my favourite beasts.
Vilor, apparently seeing my smile, glared at me, “I’m sorry druid, but does something about getting your very essence sucked out amuse you?”
I shrugged and winked, “Depends on how they’re doing it.”
I know, I know, I was supposed to be making sure I didn’t get expelled, but I knew that that particular bit of spicy dialogue wasn’t going to get me thrown out.
“Succubi are some of the fiercest creatures known to man, how dare you be so cavalier!?”
I looked between my fellow students and back to Vilor, “To man, exactly. I’m not sure what a succubus could do to me.”
That’s when Vilor stopped glaring and started sneering, “Ah, you’re under the assumption that simply because of your breasts the succubus will leave you be? What did I expect from a drui- Gods!” he shrieked as a sickly dark green split opened up beside him.
Ten mages in black cloaks leaped through the rip in space next to the floating water plinth with their daggers drawn and glowing green magic on their free hands.
“Necromancers…” I muttered gleefully.
A group of Necromancers are attacking.
10x Level 15 Necromancers, HP: 1000/1000.
Without waiting for Vilor’s say-so, I pulled out my sword and prepared for a real fight.
Equipped Sparky McStabby-Stab.
Armelia: Chapter 11
I was surprised with how quickly my fellow students got into a combative stance, some even going as far to cut themselves and draw sigils on their fists and foreheads with the blood.
“Stand down students,” the hooded figures said in unison, “we are here for the Grand Master, not you.”
None of us even considered backing down, and after a few seconds the necromancers let out a low monotonous “As you wish.” before coming right for us.
Derrian was the first of our ranks to charge, an icicle in one hand and a sigil on his other. The necromancer easily defended himself against the ice, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop Derrian’s uppercut, a brilliant beam of white light blasting out of the necromancer’s mouth as his organs were fried.
I decided in that moment that I had to learn the spell, but maybe after the attack.
A necromancer made a run at me, his dagger not unlike Flari’s and thus something I very much wanted to avoid, at the same time I wasn’t really sure what to do, I hadn’t exactly been well trained with the use of my sword.
Fight or flight kicked in and suddenly I was behind the necromancer with my back to his, and before he could even think to react, I drove my sword backwards and smiled at the sound of lightning coursing through his body.
Critical Hit!
In one swift movement, I pulled out the blade, spun around, and sliced his head clean off, a series of sparks and crackles flickering from the point of separation.
Critical Hit!
+1 Singlehanded Blade Skill.
Progress: 21/100.
+10 XP.
Progress: 1230/3500.
I wasn’t exactly sure how I’d managed the teleportation, or the double crit, but I ran with it, picking another target but having him taken from me as he stepped on a sigil placed by another student and went flying into the air.
I couldn’t count a single person who was with me that day that I would deem ‘useless’. From those using fiery punches to burn necromancer fac
es clean off, to ones who were using simple destruction spells, everyone was doing their part, but at the same time the challenge felt real, more so when the unthinkable happened.
Derrian Gol has fallen.
At first I thought there had been a mistake as I looked back at the still standing Derrian, but then I remembered who I was up against and cursed under my breath.
Risen Undead discovered.
Journal entry made.
I charged toward the back of Derrian, my sword tucked to my side in a position to impale him, an act that I succeeded in and immediately regretted.
Derrian’s head spun all the way around and stared at me, his eyes having gone milky and his mouth hanging open so far I was sure it had been dislocated.
It was quite the uncomfortable experience.
The necromancer’s Derrian shaped puppet turned its attention to the sparking sword in its spine and started walking away, my sword slipping from the wound as I watched in disgust as his blood spilled everywhere.
The biggest concern to me was the lack of HP being displayed, he was at zero which meant he was basically invincible until I found the necromancer with his hand up Derrian’s arse.
One of the many things that are easier said than done.
Derrian was on me in no time, he was out for blood, though luckily for me it seemed he’d completely lost the ability to cast any form of magic. Unluckily for me was that what he’d lost in spell use, he’d gained in pure strength.
I took a swing at him, splitting him across the chest, but that did little to dissuade him, and when I went for another he grabbed my blade before punting me back toward the gardens Flari had been working on.
Derrian Gol used kick.
Critical Hit!
Stomach injured.
220 damage inflicted.
-15 crushing damage per minute.
HP: 3280/3500.
Getting to my feet turned out to be one of the biggest chores of my life, he’d messed me up pretty good, and without the benefit of Vilor’s help and tutelage, I was shit out of luck in the getting saved department.
That’s when the squished garden reminded me of my lessons with Flari and, as I watched the carnage unfold before me, I found inner peace.
Legends of Tarthirious: The Complete Collection Page 32
