Future Reality...

I still hadn’t penetrated to the center quarter-mile of the Valley. Killing the two swamp giants in their stinking crib was as far as I’d gone.

This time, I waited for nine days, stuck in a little cave with just me, my Sword, and the loot I’d hauled here. The flocks searching everywhere didn’t find me. The closest was a blood raven that poked its head into the cave, and under the eyes of two of its kin, a spider leg impaled it, another one extended out to gather it in, and there was silence.

The edges of two more legs were just barely visible at the lip of the cage, there were desiccated remnants of small animals around, and the ravens decided not to investigate further.

It was a light snack for me.

I was doing multiple things during those nine days.

The cave inside, after I had cleared out the spider leavings, was actually about ten feet square. Not a lot, but when you were compulsively hyper-organized, it was enough to do what needed to be done. Also, while the other Hags totally vandalized the remnants of The Tent, they left a lot of scrap left behind that I had no difficult taking for myself, and which soon became rough shelves and containers.

The refining of Tremble’s temporary home continued, because there was no reason to not do so. At the same time, I was melting down metal to make the tools that would speed this whole thing up tremendously.

A top-tier Smith needed three things to really rev up production: Shaping Tools, to provide a competence bonus and double speed of production; a Furnace that could smelt even the most obdurate of materials, and filter them for you, providing an Equipment bonus and doubling speed; and an Anvil of Silent Thunder, providing a happy morale bonus and doubling speed.

I could remember, back in the game, I also had a Tanning Vat that could prep any leather for work in eight hours, a slew of carving tools, and of course, a supply of rare woods and metals was just a marketplace away.

I would have to make everything from scratch here. Ideally, it would all be adamant, but if wishes were fishes…

I could always transfer the magic later, and I’d have the tools to make new tools of the highest quality. It was just a cycle of upgrades, and I had to start the cycle. Steel could only handle a QL of 35 max, due to the limitations of the metal, and amazingly enough, exotic metals didn’t seem to be present in the area.

There had ben an uncut gem from The Tent that could be cut down into a 1,000 gp E4 gem, and enough minor gems to make E1-3’s.

The jewelry from the swamp giants could be smelted down and recast into Bracers of Force Armor, and I focused on them. Nine days was enough to open Slots Einz, Zvei, and Drei.

Soulbound, Greater Soulbound, and Defiant: Humans. Then Armory, and then start expanding Defiant, just like Slaughter and Bane. Jotuns, Evilborn, and Monstrous Humanoids were obviously high on the list.

Greater Soulbound meant 4 Essence = 4 points of Armor. Not a lot, but more than the zero I had now. 6 Armor, equal to plate mail, when Defiant came online. Basically, it would modify my fighting style, as I’d be able to use tighter tolerances and take glancing hits, while right now I had to dodge anything strong enough to punch through my Way of Stone. Going from 3 points of Nat Armor to 9 points when combined with Force Armor was a huge shift.

And I still had to upgrade my Shield…

I smiled thinly while Tremble crackled in Firephasing, steel melted at his point, and ran into the stone mold I’d carved out from the floor.

Shields were weapons, as well as armor. Normally using a shield mucked up the fighting buffs of a Monk, especially the Wisdom to AC. By adding it to my Primary Weapons, I made it a Profound Weapon, which meant I could wield it without losing that vital AC bonus, and Mitharn Technique did the rest.

I would be going Sword and Board soon. The great thing was that I could Name my Shield, which was Stand, and get the Naming Karma that Tremble didn’t really need right now.

Mitharn Technique made the Shield your Primary off-hand weapon if it wasn’t before, and it shared the Weapon Training and Specialization buffs of my Sword. Sword and Board, baby! I had chased the Mitharn Technique all the way up to /5: Greater Shield Focus, Shield Master, Improved Shield Bash and Stumbling Bash. There were a ton of other Mitharn Shield Feats, and I was activating them again, by Inspiration if necessary.

Yeah, technically I could do it with Tremble. But a Shield gave me more places to put magical effects. Tremble was plenty happy to get a little brother playing defense while he played offense.

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The blood ravens were remarkably easy to dispose of, once I got into the fogged areas. I wasn’t sure the Hags realized how helpful those sections were to me. I carved through the Wards and spells they set, cutting them apart with my Null, and eased back into their territory.

I hadn’t made a bow or arrows yet, although I could have. I just went with the sling, as it was perfectly fine for what I needed… and making ammo was much easier.

I’d spot a blood raven and pop it. If there were two sitting near one another, I’d pop them both with my handy Swarmbane Clasp preying on their flock links. If they saw me and Swarmed me, one sword cut could shear dozens out of the air at once in all directions, and wipe them. If they wanted to circle me and caw, I’d pick them out of the air as I was moving: they’d have to follow and present themselves, and the population of them went down pretty quickly.

Teleporting Fiends could have popped in atop me, of course, except you couldn’t do that to a Null emanating an Interdiction. They’d come into the distance, I’d feel them bouncing off my Null, and I’d promptly disappear into the fogs and shadows. They’d come bounding in, find nothing… and then I’d either ace them or send them howling back to wherever they’d come from before once again leaving at top speed.

My first day back was indeed quite active, as I destroyed a lot of traps and Wards they set up, and killed or Unsummoned over a dozen extraplanar entities.

I also wiped and charcoaled two trolls, setting their rubbery regenerating hides on fire and adding vivus for that white, ashy touch. They could Summon all the temporary forces they wanted, but I was going to get rid of their permanent forces, too, or this would just go on forever.

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The cave smelled, but not as much with rot, shit, and the spoiled remains of unclean meals. There was a smell of age, mixed with the cutting scent of herbs and mushrooms of the very bad sort, drifting poisons in the air, burning cinders of foul incenses, and at least fourteen different types of blood.

I stepped into the middle of the passageway leading in, eyes fixed on the owner.

This cave was broad and tall, not many marks of tools upon it, dominated by many crude jars and pottery holding all sorts of stuff my Alchemy Ranks were telling me had a large number of uses for the morally deficient. The cauldron in the middle was mixing up something that my nose told me was a variant Fire Resist Potion; it smelled like something had been shit out and then died before being boiled to condense the stench.

The Troll Hag was ten feet tall crouched over, so closer to fifteen if she straightened up, with long, rickety limbs that were probably stronger than steel, a swollen gut, and a hook-like nose almost a foot long, going perfectly with her bristling grey and green hair, the pockmarks of fire and acid splashing her, and a few cuts and scars from overly zealous admirers of her moss-and-tatters fashion sense.

She was mumbling as she stirred the cauldron with a long, crooked staff that looked to be made out of two fused legbones of a giant taller than she was. To the sides of the room, two large lamps burning fat from trolls, probably thoughtfully provided by her children, contributed to the pleasant atmosphere.

Totally a waste, since magical lighting was completely in her power to cast. Troll-fat lamps were not a required alchemical item for anything but ceremonies to their gluttonous god.

It took a minute before she noticed me standing there, not moving. Her stirring of the anti-fire Potion paused as she stared at me, wondering just how a young human girl had ended up in her witchery room.

“Don’t worry about your boys, Auntie. I took care of them as I was coming this way,” I informed her in Jotun. About then she noticed there was a Sword point-down at my side, and a buckler on my arm, and I wasn’t wearing anything above the waist. Nothing to see, move along…

“Did you now, dearie?” she replied, also in Jotun since I seemed to know it. “And are you the little terror that has been upsetting us the past few days?” She stepped aside, covering a lot of ground, pulling her Staff out of the pot as she did so. Her claws were more than large enough to wrap my chest with one hand.

“I was looking for my Hagmother, but it seems she isn’t here,” I replied. I flexed, popping some joints, my eyes never leaving her red orbs. “So, I’ve been taking out my frustration levels on her sisters and their little toys.”

She considered me for a long, deep breath or two. “You’re one of Annie’s, aren’t you?” Her eyes strayed over the remnants of the Curse. “Something has happened to you…”

“I beat the Curse.” I lifted Tremble, who began to hum on cue. Them zum-zum sounds were attention-getting. “Don’t bother trying to notify the others, the sound won’t travel past me, the same way the screams of your burning minions didn’t get here.

“Go ahead, try some fire, try some Curses, try some tricks. Your kind trapped me in Nightmare for a decade, and there I killed Troll Hags far stronger than you... many, many times.”

She blinked in surprise. “You’re the child…” she murmured, her iron-spike teeth gnashing in dawning fear as she remembered something from bad dreams.

“That’s right. You made me! Hello, Auntie. I hope you enjoyed meeting me!”

I charged in. She lashed out with the staff, I swayed on the wrong arc, and she had just enough time to process that my feet were moving the wrong way as I bent aside, the bone staff howled past, and I was off the ground and coming in at her chest with calm death in my eyes, and Blooding on my Blade.

They called it the Trollslayer Enchantment for a reason!

Spirited Charge, with Valor newly minted on my Sword, doubling charge damage, stacking for quadruple damage!

“Tremble, She comes!” I whooped, and we were so on.

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The troll-hole was burning, seven trolls and their Hag becoming white charcoal. Everything was burning that could burn, and the other Hags would probably smell something was wrong soon. I had some fresh welts across my chest, but nothing to be too terrified of.

The fresh cuts of meat from her giant rat familiar were being cooked nicely for consumption. Bodyhopping to her familiar to get away hadn’t gotten her very far, and now I got to eat her. I was in a good mood as I toted away such spoils as were useful and portable, and messed up the rest so that they’d be hard to find or salvage.

I was sure that the Runes I had carved and Energized into the floor would be appreciated, too. Thislineofscriptlooksinteresting BOOM!

The perimeter was clear for the nonce. Maybe the Hags would invite someone or something else in to occupy this place, maybe not.

It was time to start deep scouting the center of the Valley, and truly making myself unwanted.