《Systrem Amusments》 Chapter 1: Initiates and Idiots Of all the ways Saul could''ve died over the years, embarrasment was certainly becoming the top contender. "Are you sure he''s coming back?" Saul pinched the brim of the nose, taking a moment to collect himself. "Sometimes I wish I wasn''t." The young group at the far side of his stone table started to shift nervously, their feet kicking up dust from the dirt floor. Saul knew the look in their eyes all too well; the restrained indignation with hints of fear and shame. Clive''s return from the Eastern Dive had brought those looks out of every sensible adult not out in the fields all day. Saul was honestly impressed the children had been left unscathed up to this point. As Saul''s gaze lingered on the trio, they all did their best to focus on something else. Saul almost wanted to laugh at the attempt. After Clive burned down his house for the second time, a lot of work was put into finding a way to flame-proof stone. Unfortunately, that had left Saul little time to redecorate. He supposed stone rafters would be mildly interesting to look at, but the kids didn''t seem to agree. Doing his best to look the part of the wisened veteran, Saul leaned forward onto his staff. "Believe me, you have little to worry about. Clive may act a tad eccentric, but he means well enough." Well enough not to put theft on his record, at least Saul thought inwardly as the adventurers-to-be started to relax. "Did he have to take all the pendants?" The young girl asked, poorly hiding her distress. Saul alowed a chuckle to escape his lips. "Easy, Vug. He may be as predictable as a nature spirit, but that man has gotten me out of more tough spots than I care to mention." Vug turned away, shielding her face behind her long black hair. "My name''s Vugulis." She muttered softly. "And mine''s Solomon, but that''s uncle Saul to you lot." Saul''s accompanying wink was awarded with some relaxed laughter, and Saul internally let out a sigh of relief. Barring another potential felony, the worst should be behind us. The next few minutes were spent in more pleasant conversation. Saul took the time to run through the trio''s pre-adventure checklist. Aside from Harold''s arms and legs being deliberately uncovered, everyone was as packed with as much gear as a small town like Southward could afford. Even with the success Saul brought from being (leader) of the /Solaris Company\, there was only so much money could do to prepare new adventurers for what they would soon face. As the conversation began to die down, Saul began silently twisting one end of his staff. "Well, since Clive has yet to show himself, I suppose we''ll continue without him." With a heavy crack, the staff split in two, revealing a rolled-up scroll hidden within the hollow shell. Saul allowed himself a satisfied smile as his home went entirely silent. The normally constant noise of the forest near his home was completely absent, as if the whole world understood the gravity of what was about to happen. In reality, Saul had practiced Systro for this very situation. As he waited for his work to lock into place, Saul looked toward his onlookers. Harold practically fell over himself trying to burn every detail into his beady green eyes. Vug couldn''t be bothered by the spectacle, as she was trying to take deep breaths without making her distress obvious. Robern seemed to be calm by comparison, though Saul knew from experience that a million questions were bubbling just beneath the surface. Satisfied the systret had settled, Saul continued. "Would any prospective (leaders) please step forward?" Vug stood and walked toward the scroll. Gone were the childish fears that griped her moments before. All that remained was the detemined glare of a feirce warrior; a leader prepared to live and die by her party''s grace. Saul looked into those eyes and saw himself in the same point of his life, completely unprepared for what he was giving up, yet taking each step with unwavering confidence. When Saul had become a (leader), he was forced to leave his sister behind. The divide between Garra and himself had grown further than Saul would have prefered, but Vug''s interest in adventuring had gone a long way towards rebuilding old bridges. "Vugulis |commonfolk|, do you pledge yourself to the path of adventure, to those who would walk this path with you, and to the role of companion, master, and final verdict?" Vug''s stiffness slowly returned as she replied, "By the might of my elders, by the heart of my decendants, and the will of The Path, I do so pledge." Saul smiled softly, "Then you are recognized as my equal, and shall be |commonfolk| no longer. State your path, brave (leader)." Vug choked in one last calming breath before speaking the words that would seal her fate. "I take upon me the name of (Dangersbane). \The Path/ shall know my followers as the /Sparks of Solomon\. My journey shall follow in the steps of the {Twinblade}." Saul nodded, allowing a single tear to well up in his eye. "Take your scroll, Vugulis (Dangersbane). May your path lead to greatness." Vug reached out toward the scroll, and arcs of white light bled into her fingers. As she closed her fist around the paper, sparks exploded outward, enveloping the shed in luminous tendrils for a moment. Not wasting a breath, Vug turned to her two companions sitting at the table. "Harold |commonfolk| and Wilson |commonfolk|, will you join me as the /Sparks of Solomon\ for as long as our paths may cross?" Harold and Robern both stood from their seats, raising their right hands to grasp their left shoulders. "For as long as our paths may cross."This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Saul willed his Systro to naturally dissipate as the two boys chose their new names and paths. Once they were both done, Saul let out a relieved sigh. Systro was certainly much harder to use while his party was retired. If he hadn''t been practicing for this the last month or so, he might have lost some fingers to a stray waft of systrem. After taking a moment to place his staff together, Saul moved toward the door. "Well, now that the formalities are all accounted for, I''ll see what I can''t do about finding-" A man barged through the door at that very moment, his short, firey hair only matched in vibrancy by the green straps pulled over his robes. "I''m back!" Clive cried before leaning over to gasp for air. "Did I make it?" Saul''s smile wavered on his face as he replied, "Apologies, Clive, but we were forced to finish without you." Clive smacked a closed fist into his forehead. "I knew I should have gotten Agnes to go faster." Saul''s composure sliped further as he pulled Clive upright. "Perhaps next time it would be better not to burst in upon Agnes after regulation working hours with stolen pendants." Clive backed away from Saul in mock indignation. "I didn''t steal anything, Saul! You know me better than that. Besides, Agnes always has time for a rush order." Even for Clive this was eccentric. Saul''s desire to give him a proper scolding was strong, but he needed to keep up appearances for the new adventurers. Deep breaths, Solomon, deep breaths... "Clive, what could possibly be important enough to warrant a rush job from a retired (Battlecraft)? In response, Clive revealed a simple wooden box from the folds of his robe. Saul leveled a heavy glare at Clive, which was met with a raised eybrow. A terse silence followed as Saul tried to piece together what was happening. As much as he wanted to give in and lock Clive to the ceiling, that would only make him more unbearable in the future. Even still, Saul could swear he knew that box from somewhere. The winding path of engraved spirals on the lid was clearly the emblem of Tarnsbed, which meant it was either a reward from the Prefect or something Clive''s brother had bought for him. Perhaps Clive had felt the need to give the new adventurers something more substantial than what the town could provide. That thought was what gave Saul his epiphany. There was only one thing Clive could have thought to use on those pendants to be so excited about it. "Clive, you didn''t..." Clive cracked a michevious smile, which looked more than a little sinister when paired with his leaner face. "You bet your boots I did!" Clive handed the box to Vug, motioning for her to open it. Vug looked inside curiously before pulling out three polished gray stones with silver chains running through them. With another motion from Clive, all three chains found their way to an adventurer. The moment the first pendant rested on a neck, its surface began to ripple. Light waves soon became a writhing typhoon of molten stone. Just as soon as it had begun, it was over. Rather than a simple oval, each necklace had taken on its own unique emblem. Vug stared blankly at her own emblem, a flapping banner crossed by two small daggers. "The daggers will be switched out with whichever weapon you choose to wield," Clive responded enthusiastically, "and the banner will show your emblem when you chose to commission one." Vug muttered a simple thanks before stumbling out the door, the boys following behind worriedly. Saul''s previous indignation melted away into worry. If a systrite pendant had her so out of sorts, there was no telling how her first combat encounter would pan out. Saul wanted nothing more than to demand to go with the /Sparks of Solomon\ when they left for the nearest major township, but that kind of coddling might make things worse in the long term. "They weren''t the only ones I brought a gift for, you know." Saul''s mask of professionalism fell apart entirely as he turned to see a scroll held out towards himself. Snatching it away quickly, he examined the contents. Quest: What''s Old is New Though the new generations will come to stake their claim, there is much to learn from what came before Requirements: Gather the /Solaris Expedition\ and ensure them safe passage to the Woods of Heg. Rewards: Mentorship of the Solaris Expedition; 20 Tarns One-time quest; cannot be repeated To any sane man, Saul''s glare would be paralyzing. To Cilve, this was just another Onesday. Knowing that fact only made Saul intensify his glare. "You never went to the Eastern Dive, did you?" Clive''s grin was all the answer Saul needed. This reeked of Clive''s usual antics, and Saul didn''t care for how that might involve his neice. "Clive?" "Yes?" "Close the door." Clive obliged Saul''s request, but the click of the door was cut short as several etchings began to illuminate on the door. Saul couldn''t see his face from his current angle, but Clive''s leisurely stance made it clear how he felt about the situation. Saul lost it. A solid five minutes passed before anything intelligable left his mouth. "Systrite, Clive! You afixed their pendants with Systrite! Do you know how much we were going to sell that for!? 300 Tarns at least! And now we''re spending 20 Tarns on a quest to the mercy-willing Woods of Heg! You know who lives in those woods! The moment we get there we could be skewered alive if we so much step on the wrong twig, and that''s the best-case scenario! Before we even get there we''re going to have to answer to the Prefect! The Prefect is not going to be happy with us for shortening our retirement! Are you prepared to deal with all the paperwork he will want us to sift through!?" "Saul-" "Don''t you ''Saul'' me, you cretin! This all woul''ve been fine if you had tried this in any other way, par for the course, really. You weren''t satisfied with just our team, though, were you!? No, you just had to drag my neice into this! She could be facing jail time now for something that you caused! That''s all assuming Garra doesn''t gut me the moment I leave this house! You''ve really mucked up this time, Clive, and we''re all paying the price!" Saul collapsed to the ground between breaths, and Cilve knelt down to meet his eyes. "Feel better?" Saul only rolled to his back in response. "Would it make you feel better if I told you I had a plan?" Saul glared at Clive. "Your last ''plan'' set fire to half the town." Clive chuckled nervously at that. "Yes, well, the grass wasn''t burning right and I thought I could just-" "Stop! I want nothing to be spoken about that incident again." "-and when the dirt caught fire, apparently you came in with more dirt and-" "Clive!" A smirk crossed Clive''s face as he looked down on his (Leader). "You can try, but you can''t stop the gossips from talking." "Watch me." Saul grunted as he attempted to get back on his shaky feet. After a few deep breaths, his calm, yet pleasant demeanor was back in full force. Saul slid a hand down the door to disperse the systrem, then paused when he reached the handle. "Clive?" "Yeah, Saul?" "You''re an idiot." Clive let out a weary chuckle. "Well, I do try." Chapter 2: Get Outta Town Harold was trapped. The air was slowly being teased out of his body, replaced with a stinging emptiness. Every flail or kick only ended in more spots covering his vision. In what was clearly his last moments, Harold could only think of Vugulis, the girl of his dreams. Oh, what adventures they would have undetaken; what great tales would have been told of their daring exploits. At the end of it all, Harold could only hope she knew how much he truly loved her. The light was fading now. He could almost see it; the eternal peaks of Whildersun, stuffed with only the richest soil snd veins of pure systerun. Perhaps it was only a figment of his imagination, but he could almost see his grandfather havesting the- "Ma! Quit trying to kill my son!" Then he was back, sweet vapors flowing through his body once more. After a few moments, he could register the sound of gasping. Another few moments allowed him to register the gasping as his own. "Oh, come off it, Dell! That ain''t even half of what your pop gave me when we left. Why, the night of our ceremony we-" Harold got up with an excessively loud groan. The near-death experiences were one thing, but listening to stories about his gram''s love life was something else entirely. As if seeing him for the first time, both women turned with mixed expressions on their faces. Harold let out a brief cough before starting to back away slowly. "Well, this has been fun and all, but I should really get to the cart. Y''know, leaving and all..." Gram gave Harold a knowing look, but his ma''s expression stopped him cold in his tracks. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but before he had the chance she perked up again and ran into the house. Harold and Gram shared another knowing look before shrugging the behavior off. Harold''s ma had been like that ever since the ceremony had finished up. there was always something else that could be done to prepare for departure. "Don''t worry about her too much, kid." Gram said with a wink and toothy smile, "I''ll be sure to keep an eye on her for ya." Harold scoffed. "I''ll stop worrying about her when she stops looking as old as you." Gram let out a hearty laugh that revaled twice as many wrinkles as were on her face before. "We can''t all be elves, boy. Best get used to it sooner rather than later." "You know what I meant, Gram." The two lapsed into an amicable silence. It was a long moment before either were willing to breach the next topic. "You see your gramps again?" Harold let out an exausted sigh. "There has to be a better way of doing this. I''m getting a little tired of bringing myself within an inch of death..." Another silence fell over them, one far less pleasant than the last. "Did he look happy?" Harold raised an eyebrow towards his gram. "You know as well as I do that only one thing ever worsened Gramp''s mood, and he''s still in the fields trying to replace the burned crop." Gram let out a heartier laugh at that. "Sometimes I figure adventuring would do your pa a load of good. It''s a real shame he''s so comitted to farming wheatgrass the rest of his drab life." "The working Dwarf is the backbone of modern society, Gram. Without people like my father, Elves and Humans wouldn''t have the time to continue with their innovations. Without those great minds-" "Spare me the lecture, unionizer." Gram pointed her finger at Harold accusedly. "Name me one thing those twigs ever did for ''the working Dwarf''" Harold could only frown at his gram''s insistance. "I guess you''d want us going back to relieving ourselves in ditches, then?" "Hey, don''t judge until you''ve tried it!" That caused Harold to crack up. Soon, the pair of Dwarves were doubled over in fits of laughter. Gram always had a way of stoping fights before they started. It was one of the few reasons Gramps had been able to live under the same roof with Harold''s pa for so long. Harold was reminded of all the stories his gramps had told about the days adventuring with Gram. Now, he would be getting his chance to make a name for himself. When next he returned to Southward, he would have his own stories to tell. Harold''s silent revelry was interrupted by the front door nearly falling off its hinges as someone burst through it. Harold wanted to scold his ma for a second offense, but he knew that conversation wouldn''t end well, so instead he tried to pay attention to what she was carrying toward him. The shield in her arms was almost too large for her to carry. Harold recognized it as his gramp''s shield, only much... less. All the engravigs and scuffs that stood as testemant to many a battle. It took Harold a moment to fully process what he was actually seeing. "You re-forged Gramps'' shield!?" Gram''s face wrinkled in amusement. Ma was practically brimming with excitment. "Your brothers wanted to do something extra special for you, so they made a copy and spruced-up the old one. Now you can tell your own stories by shield, just like your gramps did!" Harold gingerly took the piece from his ma before strapping it onto his arm. the weight was almost uncanny in how accurate it felt to hold. Just like Gramps, indeed... Once he had adjusted to the weight, Harold saw a concerned expression creep onto his ma''s face. "Ma...?" The concern deepened as she mumbled, "He''s here..." As Ma had said, Clive was waiting behind the posts that marked the property. He appeared to be trying to lean up against one of the posts, but the height and weight were tailored towards Dwarves, not so much elves. Harold looked back to se his ma holding another package as a lifeline. "H-here. Gift from your pa." The brown paper parcel was practically shoved into his hands as his ma rushed back inside. Harold could only let out a sigh. Clive was certainly more excentric than most, but such a reaction was overkill, even for him. It was then that Harold decided to turn around, and shock overtook him. Clive had mannaged to knock over three of the posts, and was in the process of seating himself on a fourth. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. "Why, you stuck-up, ear-cut, stone-burning..." Harold decided at that moment to start hoofing it for the edge of town. He did not want to be present for what Gram was about to do to that fool. *** "Are you sure you got everything?" "Yes, Mom." "You have your travel provisions? Sleeping boots? Whetstone? "Check, check, and..." Vugulis looked around at the small mound of sacks at her feet, scouring for one in particular. As she panned through everything, a realization hit her. "Hey! Where''d my swords go!?" Garra turned to the man by her side expectantly. "What did I tell you, Walt? She''s not ready for this! We need another month at least for her to get acustomed to her load!" Walt shook his head wryly, keeping his short, brown hair from his eyes with practiced ease. A stroke through Garra''s blonde locks was all it took to calm her down. "You do realize almost all of this is getting thrown off the cart as soon as their out of town, right?" Vugulis figured the switch from pleasant to outright terrifying had to hold a record in some parts of the Fatherland. Garra whipped around to point an accusatory finger into her husband''s chest. Any lesser man would have shrunk back from the hazel pinpricks focused on them, but Walter only grinned them down. "Don''t you try that with me. You know I''m just trying to protect our daughter. What if she gets hurt. What if she gets a scar!?" Vugulis could clearly see her dad starting to waver. She had to think fast, or her team might actually leave without her. "I think it would be cool to have a scar like Uncle Saul''s" Now both her parents were glaring at her; her mother''s eyes were filled with rage, while her father''s mirth was barely being hidden behind bushy eyebrows. Vugulis didn''t actually want a scar on her forehead, but the idea of not getting one at all seemed rather silly to her. She was going to be the (leader) of a brave group of adventurers. Better to have her scars outside rather than in. Both her parents were trying to lecture her now, but years of practice kept them tuned out. As a matter of fact, now hat she didn''t need to focus on her parent''s words, Vugulis could pay attention to other things. The laxberry trees her parents had planted were in full bloom now, providing a stark contrast to the wheatgrass fields and unkept, dusty soil Southward was ''known'' for. "-and besides, Saul''s scar is on his ear. Who in their right mind thinks an ear scar is ''cool''." "Walt!" "What? If she want''s a scar so badly, we should at least make sure she gets a good one." "There are no ''good'' scars, Walt! What are her suitors going to think when they walk in and see her face completely disfigured!?" "Okay, we are not having the suitor talk again, but if the face is off limits, she could always go for the chest..." "How is that not worse than the face!?!" Vugilis had always found the trees to be a good hiding spot in full bloom, and several well placed kicks awarded her with two splinter blades and a bunch of Laxberries for the road. "Saul is a masterful adventurer, Honeygarr. If a scar is good enough for the most eligable bachelor of Doenvale..." "Solomon is a heartless, backstabing killer, and the ladies of Doenvale can shove that up their pretentious-" Vugulis stealthily picked up her things and walked out the rear gate. Before running off, she thought it best to at least give her father a wave goodbye. Vugulis was only able to glimpse the slightest smirk on her father''s face as she rushed towards the town gates. There was much to be done before her mother relized who Vugulis was traveling with. *** "Can you teach me now?" "Paitence, Robern." Robern did his best to consider the request. Exactly how much time did have to wait to make him patient? Was now enough? Robern may have been more than a year younger than his friends, but that wasn''t going to stop him from becoming the greatest {Systro} there was. He was never going to get anywhere, however, if he didn''t start his training soon. "How about now?" The living legend beside Robern let out a tired sigh. "If I give you a training exercise, will you wait until we''re on our way for more questions?'' Robern nodded his head vigorously, which caused his mentor to release a chuckle. In the next few moments, Robern was directed in a basic casting stance and given a diagram to study. Apparently, this diagram was meant to provide a channel for Systrem''s power to flow through. Robern wasn''t entirely sure who Systrem was, but he figured it would be covered later. Robern did his best to connect the diagram in his head, but stray thoughts kept breaking his concentration. Every time he tried to connect one line to another, visions of raining fire down on his enemies clouded his mind. After six attempts, Robern took a break to glance over at his new mentor. Saul was sitting rigid on his side of the cart, almost to the point of looking strained. Despite that, Saul seemed completely at ease with himself. It all looked a little forced to Robern, yet that was the only way his mentor presented himself. Before Robern could follow that line of thinking further, the cart lurched back from something landing in it. "We ready to get on the road or what?" Robern saw a twitch of something cross his mentor''s face before returning to its normal placidness. "Always the eager one, aren''t we Agnes?" As though in response, a short bundle of cloth and thread wriggled its way between Robern and his mentor. Before long, a pair of hazel eyes and a pudgy nose found their way out of the mess. "A little help here?" With a scoff, Saul patted down the folds of cloth until a gray ponytail joined the rest of Agnes'' head above the pile. With a groan, Agnes pulled herself out to her shoulders, then turned to glare at Saul. "You do get how that wasn''t helping, right?" Saul continued to look forward as he responded. "I already help you plenty. it would serve you well to solve your own problems for once." Agnes frowned. "If there wasn''t a child present, you would be getting some choice words from me young man. Why, back when I was your age..." Agnes continued to grumble as she rummaged through her pile before pulling out a needle and thread. Robern was sure she had started talking again by that point, but he had already decided to focus back on his training. The first parts of the diagram started to become second nature after several more attempts. Now, every time he felt his mind wander, Robern would try to force himself to focus on the task at hand. It was hard, consuming work, but Robern couldn''t call himself a {Systro} if he faltered now. Robern didn''t pay attention to how long he had been focusing, but he started to hear new voices from the back of the cart. Soon after, the cart lurched again from more things being thrown inside. Robern focused back on his task. He could feel himself drawing closer to his goal. He only needed to push a little farther, and he would have the diagram fully formd in his mind. That was when he began to fall. Robern couldn''t hold his focus anymore. When he opened his eyes, he saw the cart rolling down a steep hill. On closer inspection, it seemed as though the world had become a hill for the cart to roll down. Was this the work of Saul''s magic? "Vugulis! Come back! You know you aren''t ready to-" "-eat my crusty fists you coward! You get back here or so help me-" "Incoming!" Clive landed on the supplies in the cart. A painful landing to be sure, but probably better than facing whatever wrath he had incurred from Harold''s Gandmother. Vugulis and Harold seemed to be clinging on to the sides of the cart for dear life. Clive struggled into a sitting position as the cart relentlessly rumbled forwrd. Robern turned his attention toward the people sitting next to him. Agnes was seemingly unfazed by the situation, still stitching away at a piece of cloth. Saul, however, was sporting the first real emotion Robern had seen on his face; pure exasperation. "Did you really need to expidite our exit like this!?" "Oh, come off it! You can''t really believe all of that was my fault!" "Do you have a better explanation!?" "Well, no, but-" The two continued to bicker as Robern turned to watch his home. He couldn''t quite remember when it started to feel like home, but at some point it had. Robern guessed that three years of performing odd jobs for some food and the occasional shelter would do that to a kid. Being born on the streets of some long-forgotten town had put him at a severe disadvantage from the start, but Southward had helped him feel like he could still make it with a little more effort. Even as his gaze lingered on grass huts being rebuilt with flame-proof stone of all things, his mind was already back to working on the digram. He may have started with nothing, but he had always learned quick, and he was going to learn to use that digram before the day was done. Chapter 3: The Prefect Plan All things considered, Prefect Chelbun was not having a good day. First, the Guard''s Collecive had tried to pass the Adventurer''s Initiative for the fifth time that month, then the Adventurer''s Guild placed a formal request for more systrite; systrite that couldn''t be mined until the miners came off of strike. Chelbun would''ve screamed if this had happened a year ago. Now, this was just another Twosday. That Twosday was almost over, however, which meant it was time for the best part of his day. "Lillydew! I''m home dear!" "Daddy!" Chelbun opened his arms wide to catch the bundle of energy hutling into his chest. Even as he pulled Ilixa into a tight hug, he could feel her wriggle about inside. "I missed you, Dad." "I missed you too, sweetie." Ilixa wriggled enough to look up at her father. "Can I have a friend over tomorrow?" Chalbun let out a light chuckle as he brushed some purple and black hairs from his daugter''s expectant face. "If you get your room cleaned, you might even have two." Ilixa''s eyes sparkled at the thought of something so luxurious. Sliding out of her father''s grip, she dashed up the doorway stairs. With another chuckle, Chelbun shrugged of his work jacket to hang in the closet. Everyone had been skeptical when he commissioned the earth {Systros} to rebuild every building in Tarnsbed, but no one was complaining about the sturdier coat racks. Rembering those first years of running the city had Chelbun feeling nostalgic, so he moved out of the enterance towards his shelf. "Now where did I keep that scroll..." Chelbun fingered through scroll after scroll, each one bringing back fond memories of his early years. "Second from the left, middle shelf." "Ah, yes, now I remember. I believe it was put there so it could stay out of your reach." The snort from behind him was all the confirmation Chelbun needed for his suspisions. With scroll in hand, he turned to face his guest. "How have you been, Tip?" The Dwarf rubbed his chin in mock concentration. Tip was probably the only Dwarf in existence who actively shaved, but that didn''t stop heavy stubble from growing in by midday. Seemingly satisfied with his decision, Tip looked back up at his old friend. "I''d say I''m in tip-top shape, all things considered." Now it was Chelbun''s turn to snort. "You should really consider getting some new material. Care to reminice with me?" He replied, motioning to the scroll in his hand.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "As much as I''d love to, I''m afraid we have more pressing matters to discuss." Chelbun did his best to stifle a groan while he settled into a chair next to Tip''s. "Well, then, what can I do for the head of the Dwarven Union?" Tip looked reluctant to speak at first, but soon steeled his resolve. "Solaris is on the move again." Chelbun sucked in a breath. "But they''ve only been retired for two years. Is Doen certain?" "Certain enough to throw a wall at me." Tip shook his head wryly. "Always a handfull, those Humans." Chelbun nodded slowly, contemplating his next move. He couldn''t stop adventurers from traveling, or the people would uproar. He could issue them a quest for something within the city once they re-instated themselves, but that would only delay their rampage. Chelbun started to rub his temples. He doubted the /Solaris Company\ would ever understand just how much of a headache they were. Well, Solomon might, but he was not going to be made privy to the truth of the matter until he was willing to join a station at Doenvale. Wait a moment! Join a station... "Tip?" "Yeah?" "What has Levin been up to lately?" "Levin?" Tip replied harshly, "What in mercy''s name do we need with him?" Chalbun frowned. Sometimes it was easy to forget why Tip only had one joke. "Levin''s a Solaris, isn''t he?" "Yeah?" "And he''s been accepted into the Guard''s Collective, hasn''t he?" "He has..." "Well, then, I assume it would be possible to-" "Uncle Tip!" Ilixa came barreling down the steps, wearing the widest grin her lithe features could muster. Before Tip had a chance to respond, his chair fell over from the force of the impact. Chelbun started to chuckle. Tip leaned up to glare at him, but the girl clining to his neck only made Chelbun laugh harder. "So much for a professional meeting." Tip grumbled. Ilixa started to look distraught. "Don''t tell me you''re going to leave?" Tip snorted as he pulled his seat back upright. "These muscles aren''t for show, kiddo. I''ve got plenty of heads to knock around when I...I..." Tip tried to continue, but the words caught in his mouth when he saw Ilixa''s face. If Chalbun didn''t know his daughter so well, he would have sworn she was using illusion systrem to make her eyes larger. After a few moments of stammering, Tip relented. "I... suppose I could stay for dinner..." Chalbun clapped his hands together. "You heard the man, Ilixa! Go prepare our guest some dinner while we finish our conversation." "Yes Father!" Ilixa rushed over to the opposite wall and moved straight through. Chelbun didn''t need to look back at Tip to tell how incredulous he was. "That one seems less secure than the others." Tip remarked. Chelbun let out a sigh. "The wall is supposed to be protected by sygil, but Ilixa always forgets to close up after herself." "I suppose that makes sense." Tip nodded to himself. "She''s only 15 after all." Chelbun rubbed his temples to stop the headache this conversation was giving him. The last thing he needed right now was to derail this conversation with small-talk about home security. "In any case, we should probably get back to buisness." "Right!" Tip turned back toward Chelbun with a serious expression. "What were we going to do with Levin and the Guards?" "As I was saying, if we could convince the presiding General to instate Levin as Captain, he would be honorbound to continue serving for at least a year." Chelbun knew that this wasn''t a permanent fix, but he had spent long enough dealing with Levin to know it would buy him the time he needed. Tip ,however, still had apparent reservations about the plan. "Couldn''t the /Solaris Company\ just find a new {Twinblade}?" "Perhaps, but they won''t." "Okay... then what about the guard? do you really think you could convince them to go along with this?" "General Nevel has been down my neck about his ''Adventurer''s Initiative''. I give him what he wants, and he''ll give me what I want." Tip took a moment to pull himself out of his chair. "Well then, I suppose there''s only one thing left to do." "And what would that be?" Tip jabbed a thumb toward the wall, where a plume of smoke was materializing. "Go save my neice from her heritage." Celbun did his best not to scowl as he stood from his chair. "Honestly, Tip, it''s the same three jokes every time..." Chapter 4: The Way of the Shield Clive was having the best day of his life. He honestly thought he wasn''t going to get this far. Agnes and Levin were always going to be up for a little more chaos, and the kids were never going to turn down their first certified quest scroll, but Saul was usually a lot tougher to crack. Clive had originally wanted to wait until the end of the five-year retirement period, give Saul more time to get bored of the normal life, but Vugulis had provided a once-in-a lifetime opportunity. Now that Saul''s focus was split between keeping up appearances and protecting his niece, Clive wouldn''t need to explain anything for a while. Keeping the mystery was crucial, since it could quite possibly be the difference between success and failure. "Hey, Saul?" "Yes, Clive?" "Could we stop over by that cave?" "I hesitate to ask, but why should I stop when we''re not fourty minutes from Southward?" Saul looked back at Clive with his particular brand of composure, but Clive could see the grudge brewing behind his eyes. Rather than give him an answer, Clive turned toward the back of the cart, where Harold was sitting to the side. "Harold?" Harold started at his mention, and turned his face up to meet Clive''s. Clive took a few moments to get a read on him. Harold''s expression would suggest either guilt or shame. About what, he couldn''t be sure, but he would find out at one point or another. "Harold, how much experience do you have with that shield?" Harold looked back at Clive with a mixture of confusion and apprehension. Clive wanted to slap himself then and there. All his attempts at Southward diplomacy had led to becoming the man you avoided, if not feared. Harold only met Clive''s eyes for a moment before looking away warily. "Uh... you mean this specific shield or-" Clive turned back to look as Saul, doing his best not to let his shame show through. "Well, there you have it! I assume we''ll be wanting them in fighting shape sooner rather than later." Clive could see that Saul was trying to find a whole in his argument, but struggling to do so. After a few moments, Saul simply directed the cart to stop next to the mouth of the cave. Before the cart had stopped moving, Clive was already dragging a large sack of stones towards a hill in the distance. "Come along, Harold! We have work to do!" *** "Alright, show me a fighting stance." Harold did his best to mimic the way his grandfather looked in the portrait back at home. It was a little awkward spreading his legs that far, but he would need to get used to it if he was going to be a sucessfull {Shieldbearer}. As Harold peered over his shield, however, his mentor was looking on with a focused glare. "D-did I do something wrong?" "Hm?" Clive''s face wrinkled in confusion before straightening out in a placating smile. "Oh, no, you''re fine. That''s actually a fairly decent defence. Self-taught, too?" Clive had phrased it as a question, but something told Harold that he already knew the answer. Even so, it seemed better to respond, in case there was some lesson he was supposed to be learning. "Yeah, I- well, mostly..." Harold wanted to take credit for his abilities, but he would still be flailing around with a broadsword if Gramps hadn''t steped in. Gramps had shown Harold how his stockier frame could help him ward off even the srongest attacks. He still had a long way to go, his sore arms were a testament to that, but Harold suspected he was likely better off than most new adventurers. Besides, Harold thought, this may be a lesson in humility. Clive clapped his hands together excitedly. "Great! Guess that means I can skip the basics. How do you feel about letting me practice my aim?" Harold nodded, preparing himself. This was one of the few training exercizes Gramps drilled into him, and the thud of pebbles making their mark felt like much more familiar ground. Harold allowed himself to fall into his old routine, making slight adjustments at each hit to let his sore arms take less of a beating. He could almost pretend like it was his gramps on the other end of those throws, passing the hours with more tales of his time on \The Path/. It was almost comforting, knowing that even if Gramps was beyond the grave, perhaps he could still live on in the same old routines. Then the world was blue and yellow. Harold was still trying to process what had happened when the side of his head flared up in pain. It was only then that the blue and yellow registered to Harold as the sky and grassy hill he was sprawled out on. Another moment passed before he could connect what had just happened. He didn''t want to believe the side of his head had been targeted, that broke every rule of Gramps'' old training, but as he sat back up and felt his head, a lump was already forming behind his ear.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "What was that, Harold!?" Harold turned to meet Clive''s glare with one of his own. It came as a shock to Harold, then, that Clive seemed ready to burst out laughing. Harold was only made more confused when Clive actually followed through with roaring laughter. Harold was certain he had done something wrong. Normally, Gramps would have charged over to explain some new lesson about the way of the {Shieldbearer}. At the same point he would usually be back to training, Clive had flattened himself on the dirt with giggles, staining his sandy robes in the process. "I... I''m sorry Harold. It''s just-" Clive fell back into fits of laughter, leaving Harold absolutely baffled. Gramps may have done some questionable things during training, but he had never apologized. There had always been an understanding, for Harold, at least, that mentors were wisened veterans who always did things with purpose. Clive was acting like a kid who just learned what profanity was. The worst part was that Harold couldn''t help but join in. Clive just seemed so honest about who he was. For a moment, Harold was able to forget about how wrong it all felt. Besides, this was all probably part of some new lesson Gramps hadn''t gotten the chance to teach. Once he was able to compose himself, Harold noticed something had changed. It was as if a knot he didn''t know was there had suddenly unwound. Harold spared a glance at Clive, still sprawled on the ground. Before, Harold had felt more than a little nervous around Clive; it was hard not to see him as a walking disaster. Now, however, Harold had been able to see Clive as a person. Realizing this brought a twinge of guilt into his chest. For all his eccentricities, Clive had always solved any problems he caused, almost always solving something else in the process. It was like Systro, the way he always seemed to turn things around. "I guess... we need to go over the basics after all..." That was enough to break Harold out of his musings. "Basics? I thought you said we could skip the basics?" Clive pushed himself into a sitting position with a knowing smile. "I think that lump on your head would claim otherwise." Harold grimaced. "That''s not permanent, right?" "It won''t be if you can learn quick." This time, Harold saw the rock coming. He was barely able to lift up his shield before the stone crashed into it. When Harold looked back toward Clive, he was already standing up again. "Come on, then." Clive said, grinning. "I''ve still got a lot to teach you." Harold couldn''t help but give a sheepish smile back. *** "Pop quiz! What''s your job, Harold?" Harold tried to give Clive an inquizitive glance, and got a rock to the face for his trouble. "A pop quiz does not mean you get to slack off." Harold continued to do his best at defending against the onslaught. Ever since they had started up again, Clive had been using bigger and bigger rocks to keep Harold on his toes. In fact, two of the largest stones yet were hurtling toward him in opposite directions. Seeing no other options, Harold blocked the one from the right, taking the other to his shoulder. "You haven''t answered the question, Harold." For Harold, the answer was almost too simple. "I''m a {Shieldbearer}. I defend the team." Another pair of stones flew trough the air, and the right shoulder joined it''s partner in agony. "Wrong answer, try again." Normally, Harold would have taken this as a test to see if he would hold his conviction, but something in Clive''s voice made him reconsider. That tone was competely foregin to Harold, yet it felt familiar, in some strange way. As Harold tried to figure out something to say in his head, the rocks continued to pelt him, only making it harder to concentrate. Soon, all thoughts of forming a reply had been quenched in favor of just trying to stay upright under the bone-rattling attacks. That only seemed to make the attacks stronger and faster. Before long, Harold was back on the ground again, barely able to move at all. From his vantage on the ground, however, he could still see Clive marching over to him, stone in hand. "This," Clive said, holding out the stone, "is your head." Clive punched the rock, scattering it into dust. "That," Clive continued, "was you getting hit in the head. How do we prevent that from happening, Harold?" "I d-defend?" Harold stammered out, unsure of himself. "And if you can''t ''defend''?" Harold steeled his resolve. Clive was treading on old lessons now, and that was something Harold knew by heart. "If I can''t defend," he replied, "then I''ve picked the wrong line of work." Clive''s scholarly gaze transformed into one of exasperation. As he ran a hand trough his hair, he started to grumble under his breath. "You''re Bill''s grandson, alright..." Harold was more than a little suprised by the frustrated mention of his Gramps. Everyone had always tread lightly around Bhalun after he had come to Southward for ''money reasons''. Not even Harold''s pa had been willing to argue when Gramps and Gram had decided to move in. To Harold, the idea of disagreeing with Gramps, let alone voicing it, seemed as fruitless as spitting in the wind. "Wha- you... you knew my gramps?" Clive let out a breathy laugh. "What, are you crazy? Bill was out of the game before I was even out of the slums! All I know about him is legend spoken around the hearths." Harold was already confused, now he was outright incredulous. "Then why would you call him... that!?" Clive left an eyebrow raised as he replied, "You never heard the tale of Brashfull Bill?" It was then that the knot in Harold''s stomach returned, and this time he was all too aware of it. Clive was challenging the core values that Gramps had trained him on. More than that, Clive''s words clashed with everything Harold knew about being an adventurer. Harold wanted to object, to remind Clive of every word ever written by masters of the craft, but before he could get a word out, Clive was already walking away, empty sack in hand. "I think that''s enough for today. Let me know how that ''eternal stone'' works out for you." Once again, Harold was left with more questions than answers. How does he know about Gramps'' Eternal Stone Technique? Was there really a story Gramps didn''t tell me? Just how many stories can one old man have? As Harold staggered back toward Clive, another thought creeped into his mind. He wanted to shut it out, to pretend like it was as impossible as falling up, but too much had happened that day for him to ignore the possibility. Thus, as the thought took root, it soon became indisputable as fact. That fact then reared it''s ugly head as the question Harold would dread to ask. Gramps always had a verse of one adventurer''s manual or another memorized, yet Clive never spoke a single one of them. Has Clive even read one of those before? Chapter 5: Raising the Brow "It''s just not fair! I''m the {Systro}, why am I learning from a {Battlecraft}!?" Agnes could only let out a muffled groan. She only ever agreed to work with Robern because Saul was making such a scene about it. If she had known what she was getting into, she would''ve made Saul pay in tarns first. "-and, yes, I understand how important the (leader) is to a team, but the {Systro} can''t just-" "Sweet mercy, can you keep your maw closed for ten seconds!?" "But I-" Agnes took the brats head in both her hands, forcing his jaw shut. "You keep your mouth shut," Agnes hoarsly whispered, "or I''ll build a contraption out of prairiegrass and laxberry leaves that''ll keep it shut for good." Agnes slowly took her hands off Robern''s head, making sure the mouth was staying shut before turning to glare at a nearby bush. "Don''t think I can''t hear you laughing it up in there mister man-with-a-plan! I have half a mind to turn this cart around and turn you over to Freeda!" The bush rustled before turning inside out. Instead of a bush, there were now two boys crouching under a brown sack. "Well, that''s all for stealth practice today!" Clive stood with a clap of his hands. "Now it''s time for obedience training. Step one: do whatever she says and we don''t get hurt." Harold only snored in response. "By Tip''s Tarns, Clive! How many times did you whack that one in the head?" Clive only shrugged at Agnes'' question, then proceded to drag Harold to the cart. Agnes wanted nothing more than to reprimand the fool further, but eighty years of life let her know when someone was trying to play with her emotions. Instead, she whirled around to face the little brat. "Saul gave you your first sygil, right?" Robern only looked on confusedly, and Agnes couldn''t help but sigh. "Diagram?" She tried. Robern''s eyes lit up, and a slip of parchment was procured from within his patchwork pants. Agnes glanced over the slip of paper, and nearly choked at what she saw. "I hit a bit of a snag with the visualization, and I can''t figure out how to get further without-" Agnes couldn''t contain herself. Her laughter carried for miles along the rolling prairie. When she finally got control of herself she looked to see tears rolling down Robern''s cheeks. "I-I''m sorry. I know that most {Systro} would p-probably be ready for better diagrams by now, b-but I just c-couldn''t get it right a-and-" Robern broke down crying, and all Agnes could do was stew in her own regret. Of all the {Systro}, of course I get stuck with the self-concious prodigy. "Agnes- hrngh- you can''t keep- grah- making kids- raugh- cry like that.." "Says the elf dragging an unconcious Dwarf by the ankles. He isn''t even old enough to grow a beard yet." Clive tried to make a retort, but was too out of breath to respond quickly. By that time, Robern''s wailing was starting to die down into a whimper. Agnes was considering how to respond to the outburst, but Clive rushed to console the child first. "I think you''ve done enough, Agnes. You can''t just bust a sygil at every {Systro} who isn''t perfect." "Clive-" "No, Agnes. You showed this kid the worst of yourself today. You need to apologize before..." Agnes got a front row seat as Clive''s face went completely blank for the first time in years. The sygil in his face was more than even Agnes would have believed before seeing it. Clive did his best not to laugh out loud, but his silence was enough to set Robern off again. While that brush fire only grew hotter and hotter, Agnes lifted herself between cuts of cloth to check on her fellow Dwarf. Harold was leaned up against the rear wheel of the cart, still snoring soundly. Agnes thought it best to get him in the cart before something even worse happened that day. After several attempts to wake the boy, it seemed Agnes ony had one option left to accomplish her goal. And so it was that a Dwarf heaved another Dwarf into an enchanted cart to the dulcet tones of two overemotional Elves. Are you happy, Mom? Is this what you wanted from my life of adventure? Because when I said I didn''t want to go, I had a thousand terrible situations lined up to tell you off with, and none of them are as bad as this reality. I swear, when I get back home you''re going to have so much to answer for...If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. *** "And that''s why we were laughing, Robern." Robern did his best to fight back the tears that threatened to well up again. He had been so scared of failing his first lesson that he started lashing out at the {Battlecraft}. Robern knew what the books said about keeping good relations between teams, and he could tell he had nearly blown his chance with the only team he had ever known. "I- I''m not a failure?" Robern had hardly been able to understand the string of words coming from his superior''s mouth, but it hadn''t sounded like she was calling him inept. As Robern''s blurry vision finally cleared, he saw two faces looking over him. Agnes seemed wary, as if she feared what Robern might do next. Clive was a different story. There was still concern in his eyes, certainly, but it was mostly overpowered by mirth, glee, and something else Robern didn''t quite understand. "Of course you''re not a failure, just- don''t cry again... please?" Robern nodded shakily, and the tension drained out of Agnes'' face. "Clive can you work on... that? I think I need a minute alone..." Clive gave a mock salute as Agnes started to waddle away, still half buried in countless pieces on unfinished clothing. As she began to lay down on a particularly large rock, a rustling of parchment caught Robern''s attention. "Well, then!" Clive remarked cheerily, "Let''s see if I can''t fix this little problem of yours..." *** "Of course! How could I have forgotten!" Once Clive had laid everything out for him, Robern hadn''t needed much time to figure out his problem. The diagram he had been given wasn''t a control sygil, it was the control sygil. He remembered reading about the control sygil in one of the more advanced books he had been able to find. Every squiggle on the circle was actually a seperate sygil with it''s own unique properties. The control sygil couldn''t be memorized as a whole because it represented all of Systro. Someone able to control that much power would be considered sacrilege by the Council of Scrolls. "Well now that we have things sorted out in that head of yours, why don''t you try some hands-on lessons?" Clive rummaged under the seat of the cart for a moment before pulling out a simple wooden disk. inscribed on one face were four short lines, each meeting another to form mirrored points. Robern instantly recognized them as the top and bottom sygils from the control. As Robern continued to look at it, he started to notice other sygils carved around the first two. Some were so small that they almost blended in with the wood grain entirely. Before Robern could examine the disk any further, Clive was pushing it into his palms. "Focus on the top and bottom sygils. Try to sense the flow through each part of the disk." Robern did as he was asked. At first, he couldn''t quite understand what he was supposed to be feeling, but that soon changed. Robern could almost see the sygils in his mind as something started to curve its way through them. The ''something'' flooded into the top sygil before slowing to a crawl as it moved through increasingly smaller passageways. Eventually, the ''something'' reached the bottom sygil, and flooded back out into the air. Robern realized that he must be looking at the Systro moving through the disk. The top sygil was drawing it in from the air somehow, while the bottom one sent it back out again. As soon as he made the connection, Robern could feel the sygils thrumming their assent, encouraging him to go further. Robern started to notice the same top-bottom sygils throughout the entire disc, directing Systro in countless directions. Some paths seemed to lead to sygils that stored and condensed the Systro before sending it into a new type of sygil entirely. Other paths moved directly through the disk, not really doing much of anything. A lot of the sygils Robern focused on only seemed to be there as a supressor, stopping the Sytro from flooding in too quickly. Soon, Robern had been able to map out the entire disc, feeling each part acknowledge him as they went about their duty. There were still two sygils he didn''t quite understand, however. Robern did his best to focus on any impressions they might give him, but a ring of supressors masked anything that might have been gained. "Give me that!" The disk was gone, but after-images started flashing across Robern''s eyes, causing a mild headache. When Robern opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sky. Clouds were moving in from the East. Robern figured they probably wern''t going to hit the cart any time soon. "What were you thinking, Clive!? This is advanced level sygil work! One wrong move and he could have been half way to Evergreen by now!" "What were those two sygils?" Robern knew this might be a bad time to ask, but he wasn''t sure he would remember to if the conversation got away from him. "You mean the in and outs?" Agnes asked, eyebrow raised. "No, the two surrounded by all those supressors. I was going to get in by the ''in-out'' line to figure it out, but I thought that it might overload if I did that." Agnes'' second eyebrow rose to meet the first, and the two of them went on a nice trip together, as far North as they could get. After a moment of silence, Agnes moved to put the disk back in its rightfull place. "Trade secret, and yes, a stunt like that would''ve triggered the self-destruct function." "Why does it have a self-destruct function?" Agnes turned back towards Robern, her eyebrows now happily married in a smug expression. "Trade secret." She replied with a wink. Robern wanted to object, but Harold had chosen that moment to start waking up. "...Why do I feel like a sack of grass flour..." Agnes'' eybrows started to have a heated argument as the reason for Harold''s condition grimaced. Luckily enough, Clive and his happily divorced eyebrows were there to patch things up. "You forgot rule number one, Harold: never mess with an eighty-year-old grandma Dwarf." Agnes'' eyebrows also became hapily divorced as she let out a snort. Harold pulled himself up with a flat look laid towards Clive. Harold''s buff eyebrows were too insecure to confess their feelings yet, but Robern was sure they would get there after at least three more chapters. Robern stood up and tried to clear his head. He really hoped that eyebrow thing wasn''t going to be permanent, or he might have to quit adventuring right then and there. Yeah, right. I''d rather eat laxberries... Robern chuckled at his own joke as Harold tried to argue with Clive. Harold''s eyebrows had finally gone on their first date, and they both thought they had ruined it for the other. Clive''s eyebrows had met at the same tavern again, and Robern was starting to think they weren''t actually divorced. Agnes'' eyebrows still hadn''t moved on from each other, but the right one had heard that his childhood best friend was still single and- Robern really hoped this stopped soon. Chapter 6: Certain Mistakes "Read that list back to me, if you would be so kind." There was some shuffling from behind Saul before his pupil responded. "Okay, then. I''ve got Prefect Chelbun''s The Initiated''s Guide to Adventure, Of Myths and Monsters by Farral, and Advanced Leading for the Up and Coming (Leader). Did I miss anything?" Saul turned back to gaze upon his studious niece. He hadn''t even started to speak, yet she had never stopped her quil from scrawling on the parchment. "Make sure Advanced Leading is the first edition. Any book after that will be categorized by enviornmental conditions, and you aren''t going to need to know about terrain navigation until we leave Tarnsbed." Vug nodded at Saul, even as she continued to scrawl on the parchment. Saul admired her dedication, even if he didn''t have a clue what she could be writing. Saul turned back to gaze farther down the road. There were going to be many more stops like this one before they even reached their first inn, let alone Tarnsbed. Saul could only hope he would be able to prepare this new (Leader) before any real dangers reared their ugly heads. "Well, I suppose that''s all for the introduction. Why don''t you open up your adventurer''s scroll for me?" The constant sound of quill hitting parchment slowed. Saul waited for the rustling of parchments to follow, but it never did. Curious, Saul turned to find Vug staring at her systrite penadant. Saul could tell that it had started glowing when he had mentioned the adventurer''s scroll. "It appears," Saul commented, "that your scroll is attempting to get into contact with you." Vug started to reach over toward the pack she had brought with her, then stopped short, keeping her eyes fixed on the pendant all the while. Saul wanted to let out a sigh at her antics, but kept himself composed. "You haven''t opened your sroll yet, have you?" Vug''s sheepish expression was all the confirmation Saul needed. Of course she hadn''t opened her scroll yet. She was probably worried that ''inadequate'' would be printed in bold right across the front. In truth, something similar had happened to Saul when he had started out, but there was no way he was admitting that to his niece right now. With some coaxing gestures, Vug finally moved to pick the scroll out from her pack. With carefull, deliberate gestures, she rolled out the first few lines, then stopped. "What is it?" Vug shakily passed the scroll to Saul, who rolled out more lines of text. Harold (Leatherboots)/ {Shieldbearer} Class: Novice 0 messages 1 notifications Robern (Dusk)/ {Systro} Class: Beginner 1 messages from ^Council of Scrolls^ 2 notifications Vugulis (Dangersbane)/ {Twinblade} Class: ERR; No scroll data found 1 messages from ^Doenvale^ 1 notifications View progress report? Y/N View quests? Y/N "What does it mean, uncle?" Saul scrolled over the text a few more times. He was all too familiar with the term ''no scroll data'', and he really hoped his suspicions would be left unfounded. "Vug, how much practice do you have with your blades?" Vug sputtered for a bit, then just hung her head in defeat. Saul was torn. The first time he had seen this, it was with Clive and Levin. He was pretty sure they had swapped positions at the last moment just to spite him. This was not like like last time. "Vugulis...?" Saul did his best not to sound enraged, but that left the question hanging in the air, asked but unaswered. The awkward silence continued for a while, neither side quite sure how to breach the next topic of conversation. "I don''t like crafting." Vugulis said finally. "Originaly, I was thinking of becoming a {Systro} like you, but Robern was so passionate about learning from you and then Harold was talking up {Twinblades} so much and I just kinda-" "The Initiated''s Guide to Adventure, Chapter 2, line 5! Quote: ''Encroaching on another team member''s role is heavily frowned upon, only to be used in situations where said member is unavailable.'' So explain to me, then, why you know so much about how Systro works!" "Oh, come off yourself, Harold. This really isn''t that big a deal-" "You''d like me to believe that, wouldn''t you!?" Saul sighed. "We will finish this conversation later. Wait here while I-" "Saul! Are Dwarf bites infectious!?" "Clive, if you don''t shut that mouth of yours right now, I''m going to give you the answer you''re asking for!"The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. "-deal with that..." *** Vugulis sighed. Adventuring was turning out to be a lot harder than she thought it would be, and she hadn''t even fought any monsters yet. Learning to use a blade without prior experience was already going to be hard, but the look on her uncle''s face had made her want to give up right then and there; go home and salvage what she could from her old life. Vugulis looked down at her parchment, where a sunny landscape was starting to take shape. Mother had tried everything to get Vugulis into a ''womanly craft''. Once sketching had been found to be of even the slightest interest to Vugulis, her mother had put immense time and money into making Vugulis the best artist Southward had ever seen. That wasn''t really saying much, but Vugulis still found that a good sketching session could do wonders for her focus. "Hey, Vug. You doing alright?" Vugulis turned to glare at Robern, who had sat himself next to her in the grass. "Don''t call me Vug." Robern started at the response. "S-sorry, I just thought that it was a thing now..." "It''s fine." There was a moment of tense silence before Robern leaned over Vugulis'' shoulder. "Your latest masterpiece?" Vugulis creased her brow. "Kinda. I was going to finish it, but now I''m just not in the mood." When Vugulis looked back at Robern, he ws staring intently at her forehead. She tried to wait a moment for him to explain, but he just kept staring. It was honestly a little unnerving "Is something wrong with my head?" Vugulis asked warily. "Hm? Oh, no it''s nothing." Robern averted his gaze to the frayed ends of his shirt. "It''s just... been a long day..." "You can say that again." Harold landed on the other side of Robern, limbs spread across the hill like sunbathing snakes. "You know," He continued, "I''m starting to think I''m not cut out for this adventuring thing." Vugulis sighed. She could relate. *** "Why is it always you, Clive? Can''t we just have one uneventful day with you in our presence?" Clive seemed to consider Saul''s question, then turned on his knowing grin. "I''ll stop doing my thing when you stop doing yours." Saul raised an eyebrow. "What in Systrem''s name are you going on about?" Clive met the raised eyebrow with one of his own. "Don''t play that with me, Saul. By now you would usually be on about ruts in the road or a particularly large bush. Where''d that guy run off to?" Saul grabbed one of the straps on Clive''s chest, pulling him in with a fierce whisper. "Listen, pal. You might not care if people think you''ve gone senile, but I''m gunning for an actual future on this plane of existance, and we all know how the smallest adventurers have the biggest mouths." "Oi! Since when have I gone blabbing!?" Saul turned to face down Agnes, where she was tuning up the main control disc for their cart. "We''ve got a M.A.D. agreement. You don''t count." Agnes huffed. "You really think ''mutually assured destruction'' would stop me from talking if I wanted to? Old Doen would probably pay more than a few barrels of Tarns just for a hint of the dirt I have on you three." "Dirt that you had your hands in, too." Clive countered. "I know that, Clive. Why do you think we have M.A.D?" "To stop Saul from talking about his-" "See!? This is what I''m talking about! I do my best to pull off the ''refined gentleman'' thing, and then you all start dragging me through the mud!" "I thought it was dirt?" "Don''t change the subject! Look, I know you''re planning something with all this, and I''m prepared to cover for you. All I ask is that you try to act responsible for once. Please?" Clive seemed to sag a little. "Alright, but if that kid doesn''t stop preaching I''m showing him stonefire..." As Clive walked away to find Harold, Saul turned to glare at Agnes. "And how in the three afterworlds did you get Robern up to beginner in less than an hour?" "Wasn''t me," Agnes replied, "Clive gave him this disk and he just went to town,nearly triggered a self-destruct too." Saul considered that for a moment. If Robern was an actual prodigy, then that might help divert suspicion from the /Solaris Company\. Ah, but then everyone would be talking about the /Sparks of Solomon\. Vug really doesn''t need that pressure this early on. Maybe I can call in a favor from the Prefect, postpone whatever Clive''s doing long enough to get the quest canceled. No, that would just cause more suspicion. Maybe if I- Saul was shaken out of his musings by a whack to the head. "Ow! What was that for!?" "Kids are coming back." Agnes replied. "You should get back into character before they notice." Saul sighed. "Not yet. I''m going to go check out that cave for a bit. Could you send Clive in if the rain hits?" "Sure thing, (Leader)." Saul scowled at the sarcastic delivery. As he strode into the cave''s gaping maw, he started to consider just how his life had gotten to this point. When he had started out, he thought things were going to be simple. As long as he did the quests he was given, he could be just as sucessful as Brashful Bill. The reality was a lot more bleak. As it turned out, the four-to-a-team setup hadn''t just been a suggestion. Saul learned in those first few weeks just how important the rules were to some people. For the longest time, Saul had been the punch line to every joke, and even after pulling himself together, his ragtag crew was always there to remind him of how foolish he used to be. They probably prefered me that way too. Much easier to make a guy go along with crazy plans when he was always on the edge. As much as he wanted to despise his team for all the rule-bending they did over the years, he couldn''t deny how effective it had been. Soon enough, he was being invited to fancy dinner parties and appearing before the Big Three on a regular basis. He would never forget the look on their faces when Clive turned the pages of Prefect Chelbun''s book into puppets. And that was exactaly the problem. Every member of the /Solaris Company\ was from the outskirts of society, and only Saul could ever truly fit in with those at the top. Everyone tried to do their own thing to ignore it; Clive became the rebelious fool that the whole group used to be, while Agnes went into buisness. Levin had it the worst off. He tried to climb up the ranks of the Guard, but his fighting style was just too different from the rest of the {Twinblades}. When the scroll suggested an early first retirement, everyone had just fallen apart. Now Clive was trying to put the team back together, and Saul wasn''t sure how to feel about it anymore. The cave wasn''t very wide, and it was only getting smaller as Saul continued walking. Eventually, he was able to calm himself to get his mask of proffesionalism back together. Saul decided that he better start getting out before Clive really did come in after him. The old Saul that Clive loved so much was still in there, but it wasn''t getting out any time soon. Chapter 7: Rain The rain started coming down faster than anyone could have expected. Normally, Agnes would have pulled out one of her more ''unorthodox'' contraptions to deal with the inconvenience, but Saul was still trying to keep up the appearance of an upstanding citizen. "It''s just not right! No {Shieldbearer} should have that much knowledge of Systro!" "We get it Harold. Can''t you just eat the bread before it gets soaked?" Agnes was fairly certain that the act wasn''t going to fool anyone for long, but it seemed important to Saul that his niece stay on the up-and-up, so no complaints would come from the Dwarven side of this ruse. "Harold''s really going on about that. I still think it would be better to let them in slowly." The Elven side of things still had some reservations, however. "The kids aren''t getting involved in this, Clive. We agreed on that." "I know, but telling them doesn''t actually mean involving them." Saul turned to glare at Clive on his mount of supplies. "You haven''t even told me what''s going on. Why in Systrem''s name would I want you to start telling them?" Clive went quiet after that. Seemingly satisfied, Saul went back to steering down the muddy road. Every bump in the road or particularly slick patch of mud reminded Agnes of why she was usually the one in charge of the cart. "Agnes told you what!?" Then there was Harold. Agnes was starting to think he was an old geezer disguised as Bill''s son. Not even Tip, head of the Dwarven Union, was that much of a stickler for the rules. Then again, there was a big difference between high society and the outskirts. Agnes had heard somewhere that most of the devout followers of the Church of Scrolls came from outside major cities. She shelved the thought for now, thinking it much more important to focus on the new rumbling that just started. "Hey, Saul? Could you let Agnes take over for a bit? I don''t think the fragiles can handle this much shaking." "That''s not the cart, Clive." "Then what- oh, right..." Agnes leaned over to join the conversation. "Now would be a good time for a certain tarp." Clive nodded vigorously, but Saul only scowled. "We had a deal, Agnes." Agnes shrugged. "Keeping up appearances won''t matter if we''re five feet under a pile of mud." Saul groaned. "Fine, but keep it discreet." "You have fun with that," Clive called out over the growing sound of rumbling, "I''m going surfing!" "Clive, wait. You can''t-" Clive launched himself over the side of the cart, heedless to Saul''s objections. Most people would have cried out before landing face first in the mud. Clive simply slid his feet through the straps of a shield and held his hand out toward Agnes. "Agnes, please tell me he didn''t do what I think he did." Agnes started pulling a length of rope out of one of the bags she had prepared. Wrapping one end around her hand, she tossed the other end to where Clive was landing. Clive snatched the rope out of the air with practiced ease, and his shield started dragging through the mud. "Oh, he did it alright." Saul slumped over the wheel in defeat. "You know," Agnes continued, "As long as we''re already breaking character..." "Fine!" Saul cried. "Make all the spectacle you want; see if I care!" Even as Saul started having another breakdown, Agnes couldn''t help but grin. In one swift motion, Clive had taken off all the shackles that Saul wanted to keep up around these kids. The rumbling gave way to a sharp crack, and Agnes'' grin grew into a full-faced smile. It was time to show these kids what real adventurers could do. *** Harold was having a mental breakdown. First, a {Shieldbearer} had tried to convince him that his gramps'' teachings were wrong. Then, that same {Shieldbearer} had started teaching Systro, of all things. Now, Clive was sliding through the mud as the world fell apart around him. There was no way this could get any more wrong. "Charge it up, Saul!"Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Suddenly, the rain stopped. Harold looked up to see a tarp floating over the cart. Sygils lit up the underside with fierce intensity. Another crack sounded out, and the tarp stretched to cover the entire cart. "What was that!?" A firm hand grasped his shoulder, and Harold turned to find Solomon''s steely glare upon him. Where silver hair once was neatly combed to the side, a wild tangle of mud clots threatened to mess up Harold''s new clothes. "You will keep silent," Solomon seethed, "or Agnes will keep you silent." Harold opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Agnes. "Prairiegrass and laxberry leaves, right Robern?" Harold had never seen Robern''s face pale so quickly before. That was all Harold needed to shut his mouth for good. Eventually, the tarp lifted back to it''s spot in the air, and the sight of the once calm prairie made Harold''s hair stand on end. Before, there had been lines of cracking mud keeping pace with Clive. Now, a hoard of strange mole-beasts was decemating the landscape. Harold thought that the name mole-beast hardly did them justice. Massive forearms with three wide talons each was one thing, but the almost human eyes and large fins in place of legs were downright unnerving. Harold would later swear that he saw one wink at him. "Yaaaahoooooooooooo!" A very muddy Clive had found his way on top of one of the smaller beasts, and was clinging onto a fistfull of bristles as he wove through the mud and flew over rocks. After a bit of bobbing and weaving, Clive''s ride soared over the cart. If not for the tarp stretching out to protect them, everyone would''ve been coated in mud by now. "Clive! I hope you''re ready to explain yourself!" Clive started patting down the back of his mount. "You know the rules, Saul! We''ve got a duty to check these guys for-" Clive cut himself off as his eyes wide. "Trackers..." Clive pulled one hand away from the beast, revealing a mass of worms in his grip. Harold wasn''t sure what was so worrisome about a bunch of worms, those things were traveling through the mud after all, but both Solomon and Agnes had immediately sprung into action. "Take the wheel, Agnes!" Agnes scoffed. "You use the wheel for this baby?" "Not the time!" "Oh, there''s my Saul! I missed that guy!" "Really, guys, not the time! Or do you actually want us to die!?" Agnes was busy twisting knobs and pulling levers that Harold had never noticed before, and Clive only shrugged. As for Harold, he wasn''t about to let this opportunity go past him. "So I guess everyone can use Systro now! Great!" "Agnes!" "On it!" *** When Harold came back to his senses, he was greeted by a billowing blue tarp. "Anyone else feel like testing their luck today!?" The silence of his friends was not comforting to Harold. As he stood to see what was going on, a burst of wind knocked him onto his back again. "Stay down, or your head''s gonna get an eighth hole." Harold really wanted to just sleep and forget this day ever happened, but that last assertion had him really nervous. Just what was out there that deserved this much caution? "Clive, get over here!" "I can''t! The worms are in my hand!" "Then let them go!" "No, Saul! They''re in my hand!" "WHAT!?" Before any more words could be exchanged, a sickening crunch moved through the air, followed by a wet sucking sound. "Worm horde, front and center!" "Clive, I know that look! Don''t you dare-" "It''s too late, Saul! Get the kids out of here while you still can!" Before Saul could protest, a garbled cry sounded out right in front of the cart. Without another word, the cart swerved off the road and onto the rocky hills of the prairie. The cart lurched to the side before coming to a stop entirely. "Everyone out!" Agnes called. "I need to make repairs!" Harold tried to get up, but found that he couldn''t out weight on either of his arms. Agnes ended up dragging him out so she could tend to whatever wounds he might have had. That was yet another thing that made no sense today. "Make sure he can see this, Agnes." Agnes turned Harold towards the road before starting to work on the wad in his mouth. It took several minutes, and a set of tools Harold hadn''t even known existed, before she simply reached into his mouth and pulled. Harold nearly threw up from the quick expellation of... something, but looking at the thing was what finally made him keel over. It had a tail. Once Harold was finally done, he was led closer to the road, where he could see the strange chase. "Look closely, kids. This is your world now." The worm horde looked more like a snake than a worm, constantly sliding back and forth to try and reach its prey. That prey just so happened to be Clive riding a mole-beast. "The worm horde," Saul continued, "Is known for only one thing: It''s relentless pursuit of marked prey. When Clive grabbed that fistfull of worms, they burrowed deep into his skin before dying. That then left a permanent marker within his palm. Even if he was able to survive until sunrise tomorrow, which is highly unlikely given he''s riding a female, he would never be able to return to the prairie. If he did return here some day, the horde would be ready with a multitude of pitfalls leading directly into its gaping maw. The horde crawls at an impressive 200 lengths, and is comprised of millions of finger-sized-" "Saul," Agnes interjected, "I think they get it." There was a long moment where only the pouring rain dared to make a sound. "Is there anything we can do?" Robern tentatively asked. "Not with this crew." Came Agnes'' reply. Harold was left speechless. He was horrified by the reality of such a monster, but also relieved. This never would''ve happened to Clive if he had been following the rules. Now his heracy would recieve it''s justice. As Harold watched the horde lunge for a final strike, he couldn''t help but wonder what was in store for the rest of the /Solaris Company\. Were they going to turn over a new leaf or meet the same fate as their friend. The horde lunged for Clive, and he dodged. Breaking one of the fundamental rules of the {Shieldbearer} had given him a few more minutes to live. "Oh, come on!" It was then that Harold found the rather disgusting gag filling his mouth again. "Harold." Harold turned to make a muffled retort, but was stopped by Saul''s glare. The rain wasn''t the only water that drenched his face. "You''re lucky Bill was your grandfather, or you would be getting much worse." Chapter 8: A Learning Experience The rain gave way to sleet as the evening gave way to night. Clive was made constantly aware of this due to the layer of ice constantly breaking and reforming around his body. At one point, he had tried to drink from the air, and his tounge was still throbbing from that mistake. A sickening, wet screech sounded out from behind, and a tired roar from beneath rose to meet the challenge. Clive couldn''t even imagine how the little girl must feel. There was a good chance her herd had been completely scattered by the worm horde. The worst part of everything was the way the mud was slowly starting to thicken. Most scholars suspected that mudskimmers could only move through the softest earth, which explained why they would only surface durring rainstorms to feed. That, however, is not the case. In reality, a herd of mudskimmers only surfaces durring rainstorms when a worm horde is nearby. Otherwise, they are content to remain in their heavily fortified burrows, eating whatever small insects find their way through the air shafts. Now that was odd. Clive couldn''t remember learning that little bit of information. Frankly, if it hadn''t came from his own head, he probably wouldn''t have believed it. Also, it seemed to imply that there were multiple worm hordes, and Clive was fairly certain there was only one. Oh, Clive. What do they teach you out there? Of course there are multiple worm hordes. How would they W94@jvoeeX- Clive nearly fell off the mudskimmer as he clutched his head. It hurt to think about, but someone had been talking to him. Who they were or why they were with Clive was still a mystery, but they had apparently told him things that nobody had been able to figure out for decades. It was then that an idea crossed Clive''s mind. It was crazy, possibly even deadly, but even so, it filled him with the slightest bit of hope. Maybe he wouldn''t die after all. Alright, weird head-voice, what else can you tell me about the prairie? *** Getting information out from the folds of your own mind was a lot harder than one might expect, and Clive was starting to become an expert on the topic. The last hour had felt like an eternity, each migrane only making him more resolute in his course of action. He had tried focusing on everything from a clod of dirt to the horde he eventually tossed it at. So far, he had learned about mudskimmer mating rituals, along with some vague story about someone driving a mudskimmer fang into the heart of the horde, but neither of those were of much help in his current predicament. Clive''s mount huffed beneath him, clearly growing more tired by the minute. Clive had done his best not to think about her, sympathy was likely to get him killed faster more than anything. Yet, as a soft weezing came out from her mouth, Clive couldn''t help but feel a pang of guilt. She could still be with her herd right now if not for him. Then again, the horde had her marked before he had shown up, so there was a chance he had prolonged her life, at least a little. Mudskimmers are some of the most intelligent animals you''ll find on this world. This can be very beneficial to a tamer, but it also makes them very distrustfull of most things that aren''t a part of their herd. I would reccomend bribing one with some dried meat, but they have been known to follow the orders of those who can protect them from harm. It was then that Clive noticed his grip for the first time, both hands were firmly on the neck of the mudskimmer, and that seemed to have the effect of forcing the girl''s head under what was now a solid layer of ice. Realizing his mistake, Clive quickly moved his grip closer to his chest. The mudskimmer immidiately lifted her head to take a deep breath. Another pang of guilt went through Clive. This animal truted him, and he had nearly suffocated her. Did you not hear what I just told you!? Mudskimmers know when they''re going to suffocate; they''re not just going to die because you tell them too! Well, that was a relief, at least. Clive still had no idea who that person was, but he was greatfull they had found it fit to have these oddly specific dialouges with him. They were quite literally the only reason he was still alive. What, was I supposed to let you die? I may not be able to leave with you yet, but I certainly wouldn''t be this far along with $sLInfwoeV- We had a deal, pal. You''re not dying unless I''m there to die with you. Now that was very interesting. It was also doing a number on his skull, but he could deal with that later. *** The next few hours went by much more quickly. Clive found that he could learn more from whoever-it-was by actually opening a dialouge with them directly. It wasn''t a perfect method, Clive often remembered parts of a conversation that hardly had anything to do with the question he asked, but it worked well enough that Clive had started having other ideas.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. "Come on! Are you a worm, or a maggot!?" As it turned out, the horde reacted really well to insults. Apparently, it could eject a mass of worms as a projectile. They never did much more than die immediately, but it did somehow make the horde faster. Hey, buddy. Why does that horde keep getting faster? The more frost apes you have in one area, the more solid their ice constucts are able to become. I read a story once about twenty frost apes coming together to build an enormous sled. That didn''t end well for the apes... That''s interresting and all, but I was talking about the worm horde. Shouldn''t it get slower with less worms to move it around? Come on Clive, we''ve gone over this multipe times! The worm hordes are a magical beast. Their strength is always the same as long as the core worm lives. Having less weight just means they are able to use that strength more efficently. Clive was a bit confused. ''Magical'' wasn''t a term he was familliar with. Hey, buddy? Define ''magical''. Drxvt30^7&(sdfIfsS@#fnNIWDU7238&F8932h ff28(hffnef___-cwe That one nearly did Clive in, but he was able to pull out of the mess before passing out entirely. The only thing that he was able to grab from that garbled mess was an idea vaguely similar to Systro, but a lot more chaotic. Clive took another moment to clear his head before he noticed the rumbling beneath him. "Oh! You hungry, girl?" Another rumble came out of Clive''s mount, followed by her head turning to look at him. "Alright, alright. You know I don''t have much of this stuff left though, right?" Clive rummaged through his cloak to find a strip of preserved cinderwing stomach. The mudskimmer chewed happily as she continued to ride through the night. "Come to think of it, I haven''t given you a name, have I?" The mudskimmer hummed curiously. The worm horde tossed another tangled mass of worms at the pair. It missed by quite a bit, but it was enough to keep Clive on edge. Alright, buddy. I know I''ve asked this before, but is there really only the one way to kill this thing? It''s used to be possible to Evn*9v0a7&*(^vyugwe$&fwgU&WDWf38 now there''s Systro, so- Great, thanks! Enough of that for now. Got any good names for a mudskimmer? There was once a man who tamed a mudskipper and named her Quadgullet. See, back then they believed all mudskimmers had just the two stomachs for digestion, but it turned out that most females have four; one more for fermenting juices and another that can turn fermented goods into raw energy. Before %@(HCLW)#fwhep93u0)(#R*WEFUWnvw923)(UHT#OUIEVw*(R#*(93thfh(J@#*(@#FHwuh9*t9ui7878R&^&7gfg789GYBGAfgwaf76FG8&g^f3R7Gg& NOPE! ABORT, ABORT! "So..." Clive started shakily, "how do feel about being called Quadgullet?" The mudskimmer didn''t respond. "...yeah, that''s not the greatest. How about... Quazi?" The mudskimmer seemed to perk up slightly at that. "Alright, Quazi it is!" *** Light. There wasn''t much of it, but Clive could clearly see the sky turning shades of dark, dark blue. The horde seemed to notice it too, as it''s attacks had started to become more frantic and frequent. That wasn''t a problem for Clive, who had been getting much better at handling Quazi over the course of the night. Now that he could see the horizon, however, it was becoming much harder to keep himself awake. "Quazi, do you think you could carry me in your mouth or something?" Quazi grunted in the negative. Clive got the impression she was too tired not to swallow whatever landed inside her massive jaws. Another wet screeching from behind woke Clive up enough to tilt slightly right. Half of the remaining worms landed on Quazi''s left foreleg, and immetiately tried to burrow into her skin. Clive poured a flask over them before they had the chance. Apparently, worms and alcohol did not mix well. Never had Clive been more gratefull for one of his brother''s thoughtfull gifts. Quazi hummed her appeciation, then straightened out into a full sprint. By Clive''s drowsy estimations, they only needed to last another hour before the sun came fully over the horizon. *** "Well that was anticlimactic." The moment the ground had been lit up even the slightest, the worm horde, now consisting of no more than a hundred worms, had let out one more scream before burrowing back into the ground. Clive wanted to say more, but his only audience had already collapsed on the sand. That''s right, sand. Quazi had rode across the entire prairie in a single night. No wonder she had immediately fell asleep. Clive wanted nothing more than to join her, but as he finally laid himself down, he had to try one last thing. Hey buddy. Mind telling me your name? @$&FDjkpw86*(&HOF*(Y#W-t3hw&^FT(OEGH@#G)(J)HVA823rg7823hf(&^#T&*ht34ng80we&(^Q#Tj349gb2398270H)G4ng3847g97GFQ#89j34-g23ng98&FG3480g13ewb7&^&W#G9n340g8n(WEGw8n*weg7qw(&GIF*OEjwergklmsflnei473h{V3qpqerq7ghqperv nqervoJUENGfo34go9 And with that final headache, Clive drifted off to sleep. Chapter 9: Plans in Motion Everyone was a lot more on edge from the day''s events. The sleet that started falling when they tried to make camp was only one of many things that had kept nearly everyone awake. This wasn''t the first sleepless night for the veteran adventurers, however, and the years had given way to many creative solutions for this specific problem. "Alright, on three?" "Fine by me." The two readied their staffs, borrowed from Agnes'' ''finish later'' pile, and prepared to get whatever rest they could. "One...two...three!" The two swung down with all the force they could muster. As it turned out, they didn''t have quite the grasp on the situation they thought they did. "Okay, ouch..." "Yeah, this is definitely easier with Levin around." Saul started at the mention of Levin. He hadn''t even taken time to think about how devestated he would be by all this. How could he even bear to look Levin in the eye after failing his brother so completely? Agnes'' calloused hand on his shoulder was the only thing that kept Saul grounded in that moment. "He''s not going to blame you for this, you know." Saul was greatfull for the encouragement, but it wasn''t going to stop him from blaming himself. *** Clive woke up with a start. The sky was blue, which was a good sign. Quazi was mumbling in her sleep, half submerged in sand. Yet another thing was going his way today. Now that he was rested, Clive took a moment to check up on himself. Based on the sight of his hands, Clive was glad he didn''t have a mirror on him. "Quazi? You up?" Quazi only grumbled as she pushed herself deeer into the sand. "Well, I hate to break it to ''ya girl, but we need to get a move on." Quzi only pushed herself deeper into the sand. Only the squared-off protrution that was her nose remained. "Oh, come on. Don''t be like that. Do you want the worms to come grab us?" Quazi pulled herself out of the sand, only to sit herself back down on Clive''s feet. Never try to wake a sleeping mudskimmer. They take rest quite seriously. Oh, now you tell me. Well, as long as I have you, know any first aid involving sand? Sand would kill any worms that are still alive in your skin, but if even one is able to kill itself, your blood will be forever tainted. It''s you or them at that point; retreat will just give them time to set a trap. Brilliant. Anything else I should know about this horde? Clive, I know the things I say make it seem like you could take one on your own, but those are just the infants. You need a whole squad if $)C923rfh7HF&*QH#)Rhcf8q Okay! Got it! Gotta go! I love you, Clive, and don''t you forget it. Clive was more than a little confused by that last part. Before, all these conversations had been coming from some disemodied voice. That last one, however, carried with it a vague idea of someone. Clive tried to fight through his growing headache, he wanted nothing more than to find out who would say such a thing to him, but all he could find was the vague idea of something green. With a bit of effort, Clive was able to force his boots out from under Quazi, he suspected the sand had been the only reason he mannaged such a feat, and he set about devising a plan of action. The worm horde wasn''t going to leave him alone as long as he was still close enough to the prairie. Running the opposite direction was still an option, but ''buddy'' had seemed to imply that Clive wanted all the worm hordes dead for some reason. ''Buddy'' also seemed adimant that he couldn''t do this alone. You''re skilled, don''t let me convince you otherwise. All I''m saying is that the scrolls hold power that isn''t easy to defy. Defy? Was Clive really trying to defy the scrolls? That sounded like something he might do, but what in the world did that have to do with fighting a worm?If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. *&6C*EF&3h&*GFw89e^F(*g378 Yup! That''s enough of that! But the headache persisted. There was something imporant trying to be remembered, but something very painfull was blocking it. Rather that receede like normal, the headache continued. Eventually, Clive was able to think around the block in his mind, but it wasn''t a pleasant experience, and every thought felt much more sluggish than before. Okay, that can''t be good... Even if ''buddy'' had considered a match-up between Clive and the worm horde for a moment, there was no way he was going to face down that thing now. Clive needed a team. Clive needed his team. As Clive watched the mid-afternoon sun begin it''s descent out of the sky, he reailized just how quickly he was going to need them. *** No one wanted to get moving that morning, yet get moving they did. Saul didn''t bother to take driving duties from Agnes. The secret was out by this point, and there was only one person who even seemed to care. Said person was currently keeping very quiet. Even if he was trying to protest, Saul wouldn''t really be able to blame the kid anymore. Harold had grown up watching the best of adventurer''s society from an outside perspective; he had yet to truly understand how twisted this line of work could make you. Saul had seen the terrors people in this line of work could get away with, and felt no need to enlighten this new team himself. This is Twintarn, hailing Stonewall. Twintarn, hailing Stonewall, cut. "Agnes?" "How many times, Saul... you''re Stonewall, I''m Testkick." Stonewall here. What''s the situation in Tarnsbed? Cut. Ouch! Was I really that much of a gonner? Clive!? Saul nearly cut the transmission from shock. How did you even open this line!? Well, it wasn''t easy, I''ll give you that much. Luckily, sand makes for a pretty good sygil agent. Testkick here. Where are you, even!? Oh, you know. I''ve been around, did a tour in the desert, tamed a mudskimmer... Uh, Cleavetarn here? Didn''t we agree not to open up this line until we were done with first retirement? Also, why is Clive supposed to be dead? Fought a worm horde. Trying to kill it later tonight. Sorry you can''t join. Oh, that''s no problem! Have fun guys! Cleavetarn cutting out. Clive, you''re supposed to be dead!! I''ll say! If not for Quazi here, I wouldn''t have lasted past the first acceleration. Clive, I spent the better part of our time together trying to explain you out to Saul, and even I have no clue what you''re going on about. Sorry. I''d try to explain over the link, but I don''t want to risk giving you the headache I''ve got. Clive, why would- No time, you two! The bottom line is this: I need to kill the worm horde before it kills me tonight. Who''s in? "Uncle Saul? Are you okay?" Saul turned back to look at his niece. Vug looked quite worried, more so than Saul had seen before. Saul looked down at his paleing knuckles, seeing for the first time the staff clutched in his hands. "I''m fine." Saul managed to croak out. "We just got a message from Clive." "You what!?" "Harold, I will gag you again!" Saul let out a deep sigh. Clive wanted help with yet another foolhardy scheme, only now he was playing with his own life. The kids were in no position to actually fight yet, but there was nowhere safe to leave them while the experts went off to battle. There was only one option that Saul would have considered. Where are we meeting you? *** Levin worried about his brother sometimes. Actually, he worried about his brother most of the time. His position at the bottom of the guard didn''t give him much time for anything else. Every morning he trained until his first meal. Every evening he sated vigil at his post on the wall until the dinner bell was rung. Levin breathed in the autumn air. There was little more than a month left before the frost began to settle. Once winter was in full force, Levin would be tasked with fending off the frost apes from the North. For most {Twinblades}, such a job was a death sentence. For Levin, it was one of his few pleasures. Nothing brought a smile to Levin''s face like a chance to push himself with a new challenge. Until then, he would stand vigil at his post, worrying about his brother all the while. "Levin?" Levin turned to see a captain staring him down, or at least attempting to. Levin was far taller than the average elf, and it was of no small annoyance to many people of high social standing. "Yeah, boss?" Levin internally grinned at the way the captain bristled. maybe their next spar would be a bit more of a challenge, now. "Message from the General. Do try to read it this time." The captain''s sneer was not enough to deter Levin this day. He eagerly took the letter an ripped it open with his teeth. General Nevel regrets to inform you that you have not been approved for promotion. Feel free to apply next year when you''re a stronger, wiser elf. The captain''s laugh did put Levin on edge, but he simply ground his teeth in protest. "Better luck next year, grunt!" The rest of the letter, however, was enough to put a smile back on Levin''s face. Fret not, my friend. The Adventurer''s Initiative is finally seeing movement. I only ask your patience for a touch longer. The Adventurer''s Initiative had always been Clive''s idea, but seeing it finally get some traction filled Levin with hope for the future. If Nevel could pull through, Levin would wait as long as it took.