“I’m impressed that you thought about it so deeply Arn. Incomplete descriptions are a common problem with the really rare skills. Many vaguely refer to increases but don’t give numbers or percentages. Some don’t mention cost. And this one says nothing about duration. The Lore Masters know a truly staggering amount about these things, even for rare and epic classes. But each legendary class is unique. Supposedly.” Dannis paused, chewing. “Thanks for bringing the chicken by the way. Its rude to starve an old person.”

Arn ignored the digression asking, “so I just pick Kicking and Screaming because it’s a logical fit and hope for the best?” Dannis nodded. “Your first thought was right, it is too good to pass up. Should be fine. Probably a hidden fixed, or minimum duration. Besides, your regeneration doesn’t start to really blaze till you get below 20%, so the buff should normally last a bit regardless.”

Arn hesitated. “Ok. Uh, there is one other thing.” Dannis snorted, and a piece of chicken flew Arn’s way. “Well, this is a little crazy, but Nina told me she thinks you had some grand plan cooked up to make me something like an Elder’s apprentice, whatever that class would be called, and that is why you had me shadow literally every different type of classer in the village.” Dannis raised an eyebrow. “No such class.” Dannis hesitated. “But I did have plans. I still do, Arn. In fact, lets start with my latest: you don’t need to leave the village. I’ve been thinking about it wrong.” Dannis resumed eating with gusto.

Arn sputtered. “You can’t just say something like that and then stuff your mouth with chicken!” Dannis smiled, waving a chicken wing. “That’s where you’re wrong Arn. No wargs waiting to ambush me.” Dannis shoved the wing back in his mouth, looked Arn in the eyes and spoke while chewing, “never praise your jerky except when you’re sitting at the table. Got to learn when to hold your jerky, when to walk away, when to run.”

Dannis winked at Arn. “I hear everything son. But don’t bust your slarn-damaged nuts boy, I’m getting there. So here is the thing. The village is 50 miles away from the Jungle of Bones. We need guards, you know that. I know that. Hells, even most of the Council knows that. But no one wants to pay for them. Adding two this year, that’s wonderful, but I had to fight tooth and nail for that. But hunters, hunters are different. Master Tarn, and now Taya and Myra, take care of a lot of threats to the village sure. But they mostly pay for themselves. Make good money too.”

Arn interrupted. “So I can stay and be a hunter?” Dannis scowled. “When you can't solve a puzzle do you flip to the answer right away?? Let me finish. My chicken.” As if to punish him, the Elder took a huge bite and Arn was forced to watch him chew. And dribble gravy down his chin. Arn sighed and pulled up mana sight. Ha, ha you old fart. Go on and chew, I can ignore you just as well.

Just as Arn started to practice, the Elder continued as though he hadn’t just paused for a full minute. “No, you can’t do what they do. You don’t even have Bow Mastery. You don’t have Tracking. You don’t know a Trap from a warg’s tit. But . . .”

As the Elder stopped again mid-sentence, Arn plotted his revenge, and began to gather force mana beneath a piece of chicken stuck in the Elder’s mustache. If he could just work that up into the Elder’s nose, surely that would be worth a skill up!

“. . . the slarn thing opened a lot of eyes. And not just from your parading around bloody and half-naked. Good job there. Anyway, you can’t do what the hunters do. But folks are realizing you can already do some things they can’t. I knew that of course. So . . .” Arn snatched the wing from the Elder’s hand as it made its way towards his gaping maw. Arn then slid the Elder’s plate away from him and said, “finish Old Man!”

Dannis reached for the plate unsuccessfully. “Why you ungrateful giant snot! I’ve had shits with more manners!” Arn smiled evilly, said nothing, and began to eat while hoarding both plates.

Dannis sighed and spoke. “Fine. Well, if you want to stay, I think you could do a little of everything. I don’t know why it didn’t click before, but you’re the only person in the village trained in a little of everything as a result of me sending you to all the crafters. Maybe you can’t be a full time hunter, but there are plenty of other things you can help out with while you learn. Hunt this, craft that, take a guard shift now and then. You’d level slowly of course. But you’d get to stay, and the whole less likely to permanently die thing is a plus.”

Arn paused. Staying was what he wanted. What he had wanted. Now? “I’m not staying. I’m becoming . . . well, I don’t know what I’m becoming exactly. I just want to be all I can be. So. The Jungle. Fame, fortune, swarms of admirers. Maybe level Hapless Zoologist a bit." Arn smiled. It felt good to have leaving be his choice. Arn asked, "what was the old plan?”

Dannis walked over to his desk, opened a drawer and took out the largest book Arn had ever seen, bringing it to the table. “Well, if you were wondering where your inheritance went, your father’s armor, his horse . . . well, into this book. So … sorry? But couldn’t exactly ask permission, you being nine.”

Arn took the massive book, and noted the title, “Myrrin’s Guide To Classes”. It was easy to see why the book cost so much; in addition to being a huge book, the cover was intricately decorated and the bindings and paper radiated a heaviness that went beyond merely sturdy; some type of enchantment? Arn asked “you were trying to find a class for me?”

Dannis nodded. “Not just any class, I knew it needed to be rare. Every second rate noble and merchant family with too many children has some that become scribes. The Scribe’s Guild doesn’t take village boys, entry fee or not. But something rare and useful like assessor, surveyor, analyst, investigator or any of a dozen others? The Treasury, the Inquisition or one of the other government departments snaps those folks up, starts paying a salary right away as they train em. That was my plan. When it didn’t work, I figured we would sell the book, hopefully use the money to get your heart fixed. That wasn’t an option when I looked into it originally, but supposedly there is now someone in Escalon that can do that sort of thing.”

Arn felt tears coming, and fought them back. “I never really thanked you for everything you did after my parents died. I was so unhappy; everything seemed so unfair. Its no excuse …” Dannis raised a hand and wiped chicken off his face. “Quit your whining boy, your dad was my best friend, and I made him a promise. Should have told him to piss off and make sure not to die. If I had known you’d eat all my damn food, I’d have sold you to the gypsies years ago.”

Arn smiled, not fooled. He kneeled and wiped Dannis’ face with a napkin. “What in the blazes! Get the Hells away…” Arn wrapped his surrogate father in a hug and, finally, let the tears come.