《The Power of Ten: Book One: Sama Rantha, and Book Two: The Far Future》Chapter Fifteen – A Short Walk in the Woods
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Future Real Life...
I was in no hurry to reach the Coven. I had Karma to apply, and Levels to regain first.
But now my limits were Ten, not Three. I was so much more dangerous than I looked that it was not funny.
I was also hungry, and when you can catch fish with a hand-thrust, well, raw trout didn’t bother me.
The fifty-foot constrictor lunging out to make a meal of me was appreciated.
I leaned back, and my claws ghosted down the side of its neck. Scales peeled away, blood sprayed. I struck it again as it drew back, and blood spurted as it lost an eye.
It was alarmed, and decisively turned around to flee.
It was convenient scaled leather and a warmer meal, and lo, did I have the ability to eat now. I was after it in a flash, going for the full Karma, and if it turned and tried to bite me at the last, that only made it easier to punch my fingers up under its head and into its brain.
Skinning it and starting the ki-aided tanning process occupied more time.
Scout Levels tonight. Sneak Attacking in a forest, who would do such a thing?
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She actually sent wereboars after me. I almost laughed as the dozen porcine berserkers came for me, not knowing what they were getting into. Given their brutish and lusty natures, it was perhaps unsurprising that she opted to dispose of them via Sama.
My Stealth Ranks were maxed, so I used Assassin’s Stance and ambushed them with terrible savagery, Penetrate Damage Reduction dealing with their DR 10/Silver.
Six went into boar form. Only two survived to run away, squealing in fear at the death coming out of the undergrowth so fast and lethally.
Notably, one of the ones staying behind was the boss, with a shiny sword he was swinging around to display the fact. I happened to need a shiny sword right about now, so I hamstrung him, gutted him, and opened up his throat as he was whittled down bit by bit.
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It was QL 23, just a finely-made long sword of human make, and at least it looked like he’d maintained it, with simple wide quillons and a walnut pommelstone. I patted his balding head with the tusks coming out and too-wide nostrils in thanks, took all the golden nose and ear rings, his belt buckle, and their rings for Investing, and was quite satisfied.
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“Tremble, I’ve a temporary home for you,” I said, slowly and lightly etching the Rune of its Name on the weapon. There was a beat in my heart, and the spirit of my Sword flowed down through my hand and into the steel, finding the Rune and momentarily flaring with light.
I had to re-empower my Sword again, too, but I didn’t mind. I didn’t come out here not to fight.
The difference in the real world was that there was actually downtime here, and I could recover between fights. It made Vigor much more useful, and Soak had time to return between killing things. I didn’t actually have to constantly go from fight to fight to fight...
That meant I could take more risks in any one fight, because I’d normally have at least some time to recover before the next one, instead of the constant run-run-run of the dreamscape.
The Soak I’d lost against the wereboars was back in two hours. That was just about when the vengeful band of satyrs, their booze, and their spears came to avenge some of their lovers.
I thought they were particularly hilarious. I didn’t really want to kill them, so I started punching them out and feeding them their spears in their teeth. I made sure to laugh in delight the whole time, cracking skulls and ribs, and generally knocking the hairy horned and hooved whoremongers on their asses repeatedly.
Eventually they were all sprawled out unconscious around the stream where we were fighting, and I skated away to the next fight.
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If something happened on them to eat them, that was their problem. They were trying to kill me, after all.
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The next fight turned to be a band of redcaps, hobnail boots and oversized axes and all, looking for some fresh blood to anoint their hats and sate their lust for murder. This was pretty nice, as those hats were actually power comps highly suitable for Investing into magical Weapons and stuff.
Tremble harvested all of them. Soulbound came to life, and even if I had to wield it with two hands for now, I had a magic Sword and was more bad-ass than ever. If Naming Karma and Investing all had to be done with the only magic item I had right now, well, that was what was going to happen!
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The fights continued for the next three days as I made my winding way over and through the mountains and valleys, stirring up more shit, and encountering more things tracking me to attack me.
The invisible flight of pixies was not pleased to find out their arrows couldn’t hurt me, nor that I could see their invisible selves and run faster than they could fly. I flicked them out of the sky one after another, leaving their fly-winged little selves sprawled all over the place, groaning in shrill little voices.
I killed some ambulatory plant creatures made of thorns and vines. They were shooting off their thorns at me like short-range slingshots, pretty amusing. There was a Shambling Mound along the way, a mass of rotting animate plant manner getting to its feet and trying to make me fresh fertilizer for its pile of mulch. It took a while to hit-and-run it dead, but it couldn’t match my speed, so its death was inevitable.
And yes, there was loot in its little hunter’s mound. Apparently, I wasn’t the only sapient to become food, although it had broken down all the bones and I wasn’t able to determine the race.
More importantly, there was a butterfly amulet in there. It barely made 20 QL, a crude but emotionally formed little trinket of love, but that was enough for what I needed it for. I had something else to spend what gold I was procuring on to plug a rather key vulnerability. Thankfully I hadn’t met any Swarms yet, or I probably would have had to run. But bats, crows, or bugs could have been bad news.
My Day Four Level was Artificer, and I sat down and started to make some magic with ki-enhanced nails and this little amulet.
I was not going to go through that nonsense with the rats again!
When the spriggan brigands tried to sneak up on me in the darkness, I thanked them for their kind attention and slaughtered them all. From their gear I got a hammer, a hand axe, a knife, a set of bracers I could use, and the leader used a magical Axe that was not long for this world. There was also a small shield basically the right size for me that I could finally use to go full Mitharn again.
As I worked on my spoils of war, I smiled. Murderhobo’ing was working fine and well. I was on my way to building my Christmas tree and stacking small buffs into big ones.
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Virtuous Sons
The saying goes that when a man is born the Fates weave his destiny and swaddle him in it. Then one day the man dies, and the swaddle becomes a shroud. Heaven moves on. It is audacity to question the Fates. Olympus is Olympus. The land of men is the land of men. To transgress that, to cross the line of divinity and scale Olympus Mons? To defy the Fates and cast off their threads? That is hubris. It’s a mark that every philosopher bears plainly on their soul. [participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge]
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