We wandered through the woods for an hour, but didn't see any signs of monsters. It was actually kind of a nice day out, and I found myself relaxing next to the boys as we walked. They made the occasional childish joke but, all in all, the two of them turned out to be good company.

Giving up on the monster hunting, we decided that we should just spend the day getting to know each other instead. Of course, what I had assumed meant 'talking more', and 'talking strategy', maybe, turned out to be something completely different. We went over stats, at first. It turned out that Fr3, our tank, had even less toughness than I did, weighing in at around 19. Still, he had a much higher vitality, and his wisdom score, apparently, also was at a 14 - so, despite the lower skill level, he still weighed in at 114 hitpoints. Nearly double mine. Bushwar, on that other hand, had about half as many HP as I did. He described to us how he had invested in Strength and Dexterity, both maxed at 20, but his Vitality was stuck at 10 and his wisdom at 11. Meaning, that raising the toughness stat had much less of an effect on his avatar than it did for Fr3, or even me. Fr3's class was, he said, 'Defender'. And despite the fact that he used a two-handed claymore, most of his investment had been in Strength and Vitality - with his Class Skill giving him defensive abilities and the melee version of spells: Techniques. Bushwar, however, was a 'sword-dancer', whose abilities and techniques were focused mainly on evasion and attack. I would have been happy had we continued talking numbers the rest of the day, but. apparently. that was just a warm up for them. Rather than talk about the numbers, they decided the best use of our time would be to raise them - and the surest way to do that would be, they decided, having the guys hack away at one another while I somehow tried to keep them alive. It did not sound like a great idea to me, myself. Not even a little bit. But I was the newb here, comparatively, and so, I held my tongue. Bushwar took out a short, curved scimitar and went after Fr3 with a fierceness. Even in the ill-fitting, regulation clothes, I actually had to admit, he cut a fine figure as he bobbed and weaved at Fr3. Swords darted at one another faster than I could track. Every once in a while a blade would lash out, in what I started to recognize as their techniques, so fast it was like the steel had teleported. Fr3's main attack was a thrust, jamming the sword at his enemy and following up with a lightening-fast blocking motion, one that seemed to innately know just the perfect angle to block the counter-strike. Whereas, Bushwar's main Technique appeared to be a lightning series of thrusts, followed by a blur of his entire body - seemingly able to carry him through his opponent (like, blur right through Fr3's body) to attack instantly from the other side. It was after using such techniques that they seemed to need me the most, each time leaving gashing wounds across the other's body. I had made the decision, going in, that in order to get the most out of the sparring, I would only cast the spells directly from my Foci (I refused to call it a 'broom'). And more, for the first five minutes, I seemed to level up just about every time I used it. Skill increased: Spell Foci +1 Skill increased: Spell Foci +1

Skill increased: Spell Foci +1

Skill increased: Witchcraft +1

Skill increased: Spell Foci +1

The healing of greatly wounded opponents, apparently, was what it took for me to really get those levels. And having these two idiots trying to kill one another here in front of me, even if they were trying to stop short of actual fatal wounds, was doing wonders for my leveling. It was after Bushwar had darted in and nearly chopped Fr3's jaw in two that I finally called a halt. I had already used and refilled my staff, and I would have nothing more to give them for the next half a minute. But... that wasn't the only reason for my calling a halt. I, too, had a notification that blocked out a part of my vision, and I couldn't stop my eyes from devouring every single word... Skill increased: Spell Foci +1 Skill increased! Witchcraft +1! Congratulations! Your Class Skill level has increased from 'Apprentice' to 'Skillful'. New Spells! Remove Affliction (Witchcraft)(Wisdom)(Affinity) Cast: Action, placing your hands upon the subjects head. Incantation, "Nine Devils, in nine Hells reside; ever watchful, ever vigilant; We guard against the unborn." Cooldown: 1 Hour (3 Hours Base, -2 Intelligence) Removes all Curses and Diseases from the subject. Devour Enchantment (Witchcraft)(Wisdom) Cast: Action, pointing the first two fingers of the right hand. Incantation, "As your power grows, so too does our hunger." Cooldown: 1 Minute (3 minutes base, -2 intelligence) Target loses all enchantments and enhancement effects. The caster's stats are empowered based upon the strength of enchantments consumed. Sweet Hellfires, those where... awesome spells. I stared at the text, quickly committing the incantations to memory. I barely noticed as the boys as they collapsed beside me - bantering back and forth, until they seemed to have caught their breath. "Shit, I got a point in swordsman from that," Bushwar glowed. "That was like, a week's worth of grinding done in five minutes, shit." Fr3 painted from beside him, lounging his huge body out upon the grass, "No kidding. I got a point in Defender and a point in Toughness. That hurt like a bitch though, I got to be straight with you." Bushwar smirked and turned onto his side, smiling a catlike grin, "Common Sallypants. No pain, no gain after all. Fuuuuuuck." Fr3 grinned back, glancing back over at me - "So, Mim, what's up? Did you get a skillpoint too or something?" The two looked at me with such honest expressions and joy in their eyes... I really didn't have the heart to tell them about my... um... special leveling abilities. So I just shrugged my shoulders and winked back at them, "Ya, I got one. I got 25 now in my class skill. And I have to say... Wow. sweet buffs." The boys eyes widened, Fr3 jumping at me after a second with an even wider grin, "Geez, you are a newb. I didn't realize you were so wet behind the ears when I asked you to heal me there. Fuck, I could have died." He narrowed his eyes, setting up for it. "Again." I punched him lightly on the shoulder, him playfully collapsing at the touch. "Oh, you got me," he played. "So... hey, wait. You got some new abilities, didn't you." "Couple of new spells," I shrugged, glancing between the pair of them. "Remove curses and disease, devour the buffs of my enemies. You know, utility stuff." Fr3 nodded, "Still, that's what you need, really. Keep skilling up and you'll be the most valuable person in our camp soon enough, no lie." His expression darkened as he finished the thought, a thin shade of worry blackening his expression. "Well," I glanced up at him, hating the drop in the mood, "I'm just going ta have to count on you to jackasses to watch my back then. You ready for round two? Y'all can't be Sally McSallypantses if you want to protect me." The jibbing, and, I think, the implied promise seemed to brighten things up again. It was with a renewed spirit that the two of them got back up and started going at it. I honestly thought that one of them was going to kill the other a few times - and I had visions of staring at their body for another day, waiting on my Cooldown, as I struggled to heal them faster. Interestingly enough, once my Spell Foci skill reached level 10, I found I could store an extra spell in my broomstick. And, again, at level 20. It was, maybe, four hours later? when My Spell Foci hit level 21 and my Witchcraft hit 28. The boys still hadn't either gotten another point yet, and I was desperate to hit 25 in Spell Foci to see if I got any new buffs. So, we talked, and we decided to skip dinner and stay out well into the night. The moon had risen high overhead when it finally happened. The boys were getting tired, and I felt bad for pushing them to go just a little bit farther. We all had gained another point in our class skills and I could see the motivation draining from their slowing strikes. It was hard to watch. Especially when all I had to do really was stand over here on the side and watch my Cooldowns... But there it was: Skill increased! Spell Foci +1 Congratulations! Your Spell Foci Skill level has increased from 'Apprentice' to 'Skillful'. New abilities! Ability: Persephone's Breath (Witchcraft)(Spell Foci)(Affinity) Target creature gains regeneration. Requires concentration, Spell Foci, and line of sight. Ability: Wings of the Witches' Sabbath You gain flight for up to 1 hour a day. Slow acceleration. Requires Concentration and Spell Foci. I laughed, as I called them to a stop for the night, revealing as I read my new abilities. They wanted to head back straight away, and I didn't argue - but, what I did, was attempt to practice while we walked. My Regeneration skill, Persephone's Breath, took a couple of tries. Still, eventually, I figured out that by holding out my Foci and staring at someone, after a few seconds a thin white cloud would form. It seemed to condense out of the air, like a rope of mist between the two of us, and as I held my focus the rope would split off into threads, billowing out slightly and spinning in a clockwise fashion. It was, actually, beautiful to watch. And I spent a good ten minutes practicing holding my concentration as we walked (not an easy thing to do, it turns out) just to see the little threads of mist spin between us. The boys didn't seem quite as impressed with the special effects as I was, though they did note a vague tingling and a mildly pleasant sensation as I channeled at them. I supposed it was a nice change of pace from the agony of my Healing Spell - however, knowing hell, there had to be some kind of a drawback to it that we just didn't see, I figured. Flying, on the other hand, turned out to be really, really hard. I could take off well enough by simply sitting on the broomstick and focusing, but as soon as my feet left the ground I always started trembling out of control. I supposed that it was the odd sensation of weightlessness that was interfering with my concentration, and, as my focus wavered, so too did my broom shake and sputter. I supposed it was going to take the full hour-a-day of flight, for the next few weeks, just to learn how to work the spell without falling on my face or crashing into a tree. The boys seemed impressed at first - though, as the wood bucked me around and thudded me off, butt and all, into the ground, their awe turned somewhat bemused. I soldiered on, trying to get the hang of it, even though I could see them watching out the corner of their eyes and smirking like it was some great joke. Argh. We were all, I think, ready to get back into our tents and go the hell to sleep by the time we got back. It had been a long, exhausting day and we had had about enough to leave us half dead on our feet. It was no surprise, really, then that, as we returned and walked within sight of our camp, we saw quite clearly that there was someone there waiting for us. Someone who seemed quite unhappy and who was bitching and snapping at our Guildmates as he waited. Those last twenty or so feet we walked in sullenly, our pace slowing to a crawl and none of us willing to meet his stern eyes. But, even still, we knew we had no choice but to march along and meet our face. We stopped, a few feet away, facing the man who stood, arms crossed, outside of Fr3's and my tent. And we knew better than to say a single word as he inspected us, up and down. "Took you long enough." After what seemed like an eternity, Olum finally broke the silence. "Sit down, you three, we need to talk."