Huh. Odd choice, Angela thought. An army of small animals emerged from the woods and feasted on the cucumbers.
“You see?” Ennàd said. “Such a small thing, but with such potential, and all it required was the right circumstances. If I provide you with those circumstances, will you grow? Will you flourish into what you can be?”
Angela could barely suppress her enthusiasm. “Yes! I promise you I will flourish.”
The goddess smiled. “Then I shall grant you a boon, young one. The boon is a reward for your enthusiasm, and it can be used in any number of ways. One of those ways is to enter into my service, but I will leave the choice up to you.”
At first, it seemed a no-brainer to accept service to the goddess, but before she could blurt anything out, she realized the unusual wording of the goddess’ proposal.
Why had Ennàd phrased it that way? She hadn’t just offered Angela the chance to be a Druid. No, she had offered her a boon. And if she could use it on something else, were there things she wanted more in life than to be a Druid?
She would never be able to forgive herself if she didn’t find out.
“Umm, you’re the goddess of life and rebirth, correct?”
Ennàd got a twinkle in her eye. “Not exactly. I’m the god of fertility and growth. Life is too bountiful to fall under the guidance of a single god.”
Angela thought, plucking at the grass as she considered her options. With a sigh of regret, she looked the goddess in the eye. “Ennàd, I’m sorry. As much as I want to be a Druid—and I want that more than almost anything—I have to use that boon on something else. You see, my great-grandfather is very old. He’s not in the best of health, and I’m worried that he won’t last long all by himself. Maybe this doesn’t fall specifically under your realm of control, but could you make sure that he gets to Palmyre safely? If you could do that, that’s how I would like to use my boon.” Even as she said the words, her stomach roiled. Here she was on a fantasy world, speaking to the goddess of nature, and she was actually turning down a chance to become a Druid.
The goddess stared at her intently. Then her face broke into a devious smile.
“Well then, she said. “I was right after all. Not only do you have the Intelligence to see multiple paths when they lie before you, but also sufficient Willpower to resist something you so clearly want. And I respect your choice. Caring for our elders is worthwhile and commendable. However, I regret to say that I cannot guarantee his safety. That would be too much of an intervention at this juncture.”
Then Ennàd got a pensive look. “Perhaps, hmm… yes, that could work.
“Angela, I will ask a friend to check on him. Granted, this particular friend’s help may not be what you have in mind, but you can be certain that your great-grandfather will not die before his appointed time.”
Angela tried to force a smile onto her face, though it was a struggle. “That’s great,” she said through gritted teeth. It really wasn’t—that caveat left a LOT of room for interpretation.
Ennàd chuckled and waved her hand. “Oh, put that frown away. Did you honestly think my question wasn’t a test? I am a god, after all. It’s kind of our thing.”
Angela’s eyebrows raised. Actually, that hadn’t occurred to her at all. “I can be a Druid?” She could barely believe what she was hearing. Her excitement grew, only to have the goddess toss water all over it.
“Angela, my child. You can’t really believe it is so easy to enter my service. You still must prove your worth.”
Of course. There was always a catch.
“What do I need to do?” Angela said.
The goddess stood and plucked one of the cucumbers, gesturing with it as she spoke.
Again, weird choice.
“I’m sure you have noticed since you arrived on Arenia that you were given no gear,” the goddess said.
Angela rolled her eyes in response. “Yeah, I’d noticed.”
Ennàd smiled. “That was not an accident. I requested it so that a task could be set before you. You see, the journey to Palmyre is not a short one. With no equipment, you will have to rely on nature to provide the means for your survival. This will make the path difficult, and it may not be one you wish to walk. If so, you need only ask, and I will grant you the same survival gear your family received. However, that will also result in you forever being barred from my service. Do you understand?”
Angela nodded vigorously. “Yes, I completely understand.”
The goddess scowled. “I want to be clear, if you embark on this path and meet with success, you will not be given a chance to change your mind. Normally, a class appears, and a person chooses it. Such as a warrior becoming skilled enough with the sword to choose to become a swordsman. But you are choosing now. You must prove your devotion, and the moment you finish your journey, you will become one of my druids. Are you prepared for that?”
To be honest, it seemed like kind of a dumb distinction to make, but Angela wasn’t going to say that. “Yes, I completely understand.”
“Good. Then I will grant you a single spell to aid you on your journey. Should you fail, it will be taken from you, but I believe you will find it beneficial for now. Goodbye, little one, I will be watching.”
New Temporary Class Alert: FRIEND OF THE FOREST!
You have been granted the temporary class FRIEND OF THE FOREST. Satisfy Ennàd’s requirements if you wish to become a Druid. But are you REALLY sure this is what you want?
- You are now capable of using druidic magic.
Class Quest Assigned: “Get to Palmyre”
Make your way to Palmyre using nothing but the items you arrived with and whatever you can find in nature.
CAUTION: Raising the ire of Ennàd through mistreatment of her domain will result in automatic quest failure.
Reward for success: XP, Earn the Druid Class.
Penalty for failure: Loss of the opportunity to become a Druid. This opportunity can never be regained.
The world around Angela faded, but the dimming did nothing to stifle her enthusiasm…
…until she woke up, still in her broken body and lying on the forest floor.
“NGGYAAHHHHH!” Angela screamed, pain once again shooting through her every nerve. Wood chips and berry juice flew from her mouth as she once again struggled to keep from throwing up.
“Seriously?” she moaned. This was just the WORST.
No. Don’t focus on the negative, Angela thought to herself. The goddess wouldn’t have put her back here if there wasn’t a way out. She had to focus on the positive—like the fact that she was now on the path to becoming a Druid. And more importantly, she may even have found a way to help her great-grandpa survive. Because one thing was for sure: An old man in this world would need all the help he could get.
Chapter 5
Interlude
As Angela lay in the forest dirt bemoaning the fate of her great-grandfather, the man himself was sitting at a simple desk in a plain white room with white walls and a white ceiling that was well-lit without there being any discernible source of that light. On the table to his right was a massive stack of paper, and to the left a smaller one. As Jack Milsom, aka “Grandpa Jack,” finished reading the paper in front of him, he laid it face-down on the pile to his right, then took another paper from his left-most pile and began reading from the top. Just as he’d done for all the other papers in the stack. Jack suspected they’d switched him to paper in the hopes that the massive pile would intimidate him, but all it had done was provide him with a medium he found more comfortable to read.
Eventually, the last piece of paper was turned, and Jack looked at the lawyer seated across the table from him. The guy was human-ish but with swept up, pointed ears. Like a Vulcan or something. He was leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling with his arms dangling off to the sides, occasionally spinning his fancy ergonomic chair around in a circle.
“I’m not going to sign it,” Jack said.
The lawyer’s hea
d snapped up. “Not sign it? Why wouldn’t you sign it? Everybody signs it.”
“How many have read it?”
The lawyer frowned. “You’re the first. But why wouldn’t you sign it?”
Jack shrugged. “Some of those clauses aren’t great for me. Maybe if you change a few things, I could be convinced.”
“And why would I do that?”
“’Cause that lizard back at our place said we can’t go back to Earth,” Jack said. “Meanwhile, you’ve said I can’t go to Arenia without signing this load of bull crap.” He tapped his finger on the stack of paper. “From what I’ve seen about how this place operates, you’ve got a lot of rules. I don’t think you can just kill me. So now you’re in a Catch-22. What do you do with an old fart that you can’t send back, but who won’t agree to move forward?”
The lawyer frowned. “And your family? You’re content to never see them again?”
Jack chuckled. “And that, kid, is why I’m willing to negotiate.”
The lawyer dropped his forehead on the table and laced his fingers behind his head. “Fine. Why don’t you start by telling me what clause has your knickers in a twist?”
Jack leaned his withered frame forward and banged on the table with his fist, shocking the lawyer into raising his head and looking Jack in the eye.
“Don’t give me any of that crap,” Jack snapped. “This isn’t some random whim. I’ve got a family down there that I love more than you’ve probably loved anything in your life, and the last thing I want is to be a damned burden to them. But from what I can tell, you’re about to stick me on a world without a stitch of modern medicine. I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend my waning years blind and living in some hut until I die of a heart attack when I could have at least gotten cataract surgery and a triple bypass on Earth!”
“Are you serious?” the lawyer said. “You’re ancient for a human! Even if someone on Earth was going to make an effort to try and prolong your life, Arenia has clerics. Magical healing! It’s far superior to anything your Earth doctors could provide.”
“Yeah? How much do they cost?”
The lawyer grimaced.
“Look,” Jack said, “I don’t want to make anyone’s life harder. Even yours, impertinent little shit you may be. But this old man has lost a wife and a daughter to cancer, and his granddaughter is the same age those fine women were when they died. Twice now, I’ve been forced to pick up the pieces, and if it happens again, all I want is to have enough energy to get the family through that tragedy before I’m gone. You’re sending us to a hard place—the last thing they need is to do it without a rudder. My granddaughter is that rudder, and if anything happens to her, they’ll need it to be me.”
“Oh, fine,” the lawyer said. He scowled at Jack. “That was a dirty move, though, bringing up a dead wife and daughter.”
Jack shook his head. “The truth is never a dirty move.”
“Good thing you went into farming and not law,” the lawyer muttered. He cracked his knuckles and picked up his pen. “The best I can do is a clause that exempts you from the physiological effects of old age. Keeps your eyesight up to snuff, prevent you from throwing your back out—that kind of thing. If you were hoping for some sort of fountain of youth or a head start on levelling, you can forget it. Quite frankly, your family has been a complete nightmare for all of us, and the last thing I want is for Carl’s stink to rub off on me. The quicker I get you out of here, the quicker I can distance myself from the whole affair. Capiche?”
Jack had no idea who Carl was, but spending the rest of his remaining years without the indignities of old age sounded perfect. Hell, it had been 15-years since he’d slept without a diaper on. That alone was worth the price of admission. “Alright. You hand that over, and if it makes sense, I’ll sign it.”
The lawyer promptly grabbed the last page of the contract and scribbled away. Every letter glowed oddly as it was written, giving off a faint hum in the process. When he was done, he spun the page around for Jack to read:
Article 275
Amendment to Starting Status
275.01 Amendment to Starting Status. The Transferee shall receive a Trait titled “WELL-AGED,” which exempts the Transferee from any physical conditions associated with the deterioration of old age as designated in Section 142.68(a) and 142.68(b), the progression of which is outlined in APPENDIX Q, for the duration of this life, and subsequent spawned lives, until such a time as spawned lives expire or the Transferee reaches the natural limit of their species’ lifespan and is returned to a Newbie state upon re-spawn, should any lives be remaining at the moment of natural death.
From a layman’s point of view, Jack couldn’t see anything wrong with the wording, so he picked up the proffered pen and signed at the bottom of the page. The lawyer let out a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Mr. Milsom. Enjoy your new life.”
The room vanished, and Jack rocketed toward the planet that now glowed brightly beneath him. Jack put his hands on his hips and frowned, slightly annoyed that they couldn’t have teleported him to his starting point. Still, at least this allowed him to observe the planet from an elevated position, so he took the time to get his bearings during the drop.
As he drew closer to the surface, Jack could tell that it was either morning or evening at his estimated landing point, although there was no way to know for sure. Too bad it was also clear that his landing point would not be the large town that he’d first spotted, but rather a coastal forest somewhere to the northwest.
It figured. These clowns couldn’t get anything right.
With a grunt, Jack crossed his arms and waited for this so-called adventure to get underway.
Chapter 6
Mark
The drop onto Arenia inevitably produced a wild array of reactions from the human experiencing it. Screaming, terror, excitement, laughing, loss of various bodily functions—even cool indifference. As a result, gambling on the drops was a favourite pastime of the Observers, and a great deal of money changed hands with every transfer. One particular reaction paid out the largest odds, and that was because it had only ever paid out a handful of times. Today was one of those days. Because when Mark came to a sudden and abrupt halt on Arenia’s surface, he showed the rarest of reactions: Sadness. Because for Mark, the idea of being smashed into the planet was far preferable to the reality he was facing.
Mark sank to his knees, not even looking at his surroundings. His head bent, and tears flowed, eventually forcing him to brace his hands against the ground to keep from keeling over. He could feel the cool moss and the root-filled dirt beneath his fingers, but those were outside things. Right now, Mark was living inside his own mind.
How long?
That was all he could think.
When Mark was twelve, he had been “normal.” That’s how he thought of it. A lot of doctors tried to tell him not to think in terms of “normal” and “not normal,” but that line of thinking never stuck. There was a clear before and after, and if one of those was going to be called normal, it was “before.” Before a month after his thirteenth birthday when he stood up in front of his class for a presentation, and all that came out was a garbled mess.
How long until it starts again?
He couldn’t stop asking himself that question. Withdrawal could be—would be—harsh. You were supposed to gradually titrate your medication down, not go cold turkey.
How long until it starts again?
No! Mark admonished himself. He had to get past it. What would happen, would happen. All the self-pity in the world wasn’t going to change anything.
Mark chuckled at the irony—he’d just inadvertently quoted his father.
“No,” Mark said, out loud this time. He pushed himself up off the ground and shook himself off. “Screw this. I am not going to die in the dirt on some strange planet.”
He needed a plan.
Step 1: Survive. Long enough to get to Palmyre.
Step 2: That was future
Mark’s problem. Right now, he had to deal with the present, and that meant he needed information.
Too bad Angela wasn’t here; his sister was probably kicking ass already. Hell, she probably had a horde of woodland animals carrying her across the forest to the family’s new home in Palmyre.
“Okay,” Mark said. “First things first: Where’s my character sheet?”
As soon as Mark said the words, a black book appeared in the air in front of him. It hovered there. Floating. Mocking.
Mark stared at with distaste. It looked exactly like the journal he’d been given to track his symptoms when he first got diagnosed.
“Goddammit,” Mark muttered. He snatched the book out of midair and flipped it open.
Nothing. He flipped forward a few pages. Still nothing. He quickly leafed through the rest of the book until he got to the very back. Only then did he find something written on the pages:
MARK SULLIVAN
Renown: Level 1 – Unclassed
Species: Human
Age: 20
Experience: 0
Experience to Next Level: 300
Base Attributes
Strength – 19
Constitution – 17
Endurance – 16
Dexterity – 18
Willpower – 16
Intelligence – 16
Charisma – 14
Luck – 8
AVERAGE: 15.5
Mark burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that tears streamed down his face. It went on so long that it flirted with hysteria before finally fading to a chuckle. He looked at the sheet again.
Arrival: Legends of Arenia Book 1 (A LitRPG Story) Page 6
