**[Horace]**

[Immature Dropclaw]

Level: 10

Status: Hostile

Special abilities: Heat sense, dismember, and camouflage

Weaknesses: Light sensitivity

He stood staring deep into the black irises of the enraged dropclaw in front of him. Forty feet separated the two along with three armed warriors who held ropes taught between them to keep the monster from moving. It snarled loud from its small fanged mouth and the flash of its claws caught the light emanating from the sides of the arena. He did not know what they were waiting for, but he resented the pause all the same. Memories of what the gremlin had told him and the knowledge of the price he had paid for his newfound strength haunted him.

"Half-golem," he had never even heard of a golem and now he was apparently fuzed with their aspects. The accused cleric had said he was not a true half-golem and remained mostly human, yet he could no longer recognize himself. He felt distant from this body and from the world around him. All of the confusing thoughts, ideas, and fears swirling in his mind made him remember the gremlin's first assignment.

He stood outside the cell with Myron. The shift that had occurred after the gremlin had stolen years of his lifespan shocked Horace. The glimpses he got from seeing the warped reflection of himself in the metal bars of the cells around him looked nothing like the boy he had been. Five years had been taken which in retrospect seemed like no time at all compared to what he would have agreed to; still, he mourned his old form. Nevertheless, this one was better suited for combat and he felt like he could take on the world. Then, Myron decided to crush all the energy coursing through him into a river of wilted despair.

"Hey kid-wait, guess I can no longer call you a kid now... hmmm... Horace, it is time to discuss the missions you will have to fulfill as an agent of Ponram. The first thing we require of you is-"

A new orc entered the tunnel and the gremlin cut off only to resume whispering the commands to him as they approached the arena.

Horace snapped himself out of the memory not wanting to think about the first mission. He caught Rita's eye as she stared down at him and he could not stop the way his body buckled at the knowledge he now had. He could only pray that the conditions of his orders never occurred so he would not have to betray her and Aidan.

The second order was easier to swallow as it dealt with a group of people he did not know, the half-golems. What he had to do would be awful and it would destroy his last shreds of humanity to actually accomplish what the cleric wanted, but he would do it. The final requirement he had to fulfill as an agent was simple when compared to the complexities of the previous two: he had to kill Jerome Sinclair. That was something he didn't mind doing anyway, and as a result, it was the one he wished he could tackle first. However, since he was unable to leave the dungeon system it seemed unlikely he would be able to kill the man himself. Myron had made it clear that they did not care how the man died so long as he did die.

As much as he hated what the man had done and would revel in his death, Horace did wonder why they would ask this of him. Surely they had stronger beings in this system that could threaten the former adventurer more than a mere level two like him could. It was a mystery and one he did not have time to think about as the soft 'slunk' sound of a sword digging into sand was heard. He moved forward to grab it and as he did so the dropclaw's ropes went slack. The attendants disappeared quite quickly and avoided the slashing of the monster's claws.

With no other nearby enemy, the creature turned to once again lock eyes with him. Horace could feel the balanced weight of the thin rapier in his hand. It was far finer than the clunky swords he was used to and he liked the way it felt. As the dropclaw's legs brought it closer to him, he braced in a ready stance. Just before they collided, Horace tested out his new body's reflexes. Sadly, he forgot that his agility had actually decreased with the change, so his roll to the side turned into more of a flop. The flailing of his weapon at the passing monster still resulted in a small wound, yet his awkward movement allowed it to strike him as well. A long gash formed on the bicep of his dominant right arm. The lack of flesh there proved beneficial immediately. The wound did not bleed beyond the slight glow of seeping mana, and the stone coating his arm blocked a good portion of the damage.

Both of them corrected their momentum to begin circling one another. The only sounds that could be heard were his own labored breathing and the subtle noise of sand shifting beneath their feet. The dropclaw lunged. Its sharp hooked claws were outstretched and reaching for his chest. He brought his sword up in a diagonal sweep to deflect the beast's hands to the side. His new strength was barely enough to avoid being skewered and he failed to harm the creature in a noticeable way. its long sinewy body was unbalanced by his deflection and he was able to land a kick to its underbelly which elicited a high pitched screech.

The monster jumped back to circle him once more with renewed caution despite his lack of serious retaliation for the beast's attack. This time Horace wanted to be the aggressor as his strength was still not enough to truly defend himself if the creature struck first. He tried to mirror the thrusts he had seen soldiers do and thrust his sword at the creature with his body facing to the side of the arena. The dropclaw chirped at him and dodged to the side. Its nimble body easily avoiding the movement, but it made the mistake of dodging towards his front side allowing him to swing the rapier in towards it as it jumped. It tried to dodge again the second its feet hit the ground, by the loosely packed sand impeeded the motion allowing him to score a clean hit to its side.

Red blood splashed on the sand and the creature lashed out with both arms in a rapid panicked wave catching him on the akin above his knee and on the wrist holding the sword. His own blood joined the monster's as the weaker skin on his lower appendage parted to expose his human flesh underneath, but his wrist did not. There was no flesh in that arm to expose, yet the cut made his mobility with that hand go down. He could feel the shift as he tried to thrust at the creature again, but his wrist refused to move to track the creature as it had just moments before.

The both were panting now and the dropclaw was keeping its injured side away from his raised sword. Horace wanted to end this fight immediately. His energy levels were falling fast and he could feel warm liquid gushing down his shin. He watched the creature to try and find a weak point to attack. There were none, yet his eyes kept focusing on the hands of the dropclaw. They were mostly made up of the long claws with delicate fingers leading up to them and strangely small wrists with disproportionally long arms attaching them to the rest of its body. If he could sever a wrist then he would both cripple the beast and take away one of its weapons.

To try this he gave a slight lunge towards it, but had his weight centered on his back leg to allow him to leap after it should it dodge. Thankfully the creature did and he dug the tip of his rapier into the lower portion of its forearm.

They both crashed into the sand in a heap. He kicked off of it while ripping his sword out of its limb to escape the deadly claws that had opened wounds across his chest and arms from the brief contact. He had failed to take off the hand, but the creature seemed unable to place its full weight on it anymore which was a slight victory and worth the pain resonating through him. More blood from each side wetted the sand.

The dropclaw bounded forward on three legs and Horace straightened to meet it. This time he waited until it was about to crash into his upper body and dropped down. His back hit the damp pink sand and his legs rose to kick the creature. His sword arm was useless as it fell with his upper body, but the kick still sent the beast off to the side. It snarled. Horace found his own lip curling and a bestial roar came out unbidden from his torn chest. They eyed one another before both rushed. Horace's weapon flashed along with the creature's claws in a mess of torn flesh and spraying blood. He felt his mind fall into an enraged haze of swinging, punching, kicking, and screaming.

Then there was quiet once again. He laid there on the sand staring up at the moving forms above him as the broken body of the drop claw mewed a foot away. His arm rose and slammed down onto its small head crushing it completely. The sound rushed in and he heard cheering voices and laughter from above. He found himself smiling as the system messages flooded into his fried mind. Each one sent a shock through him and his body attempted to heal itself with the newfound energy.

Encounter Complete! You have successfully defeated a level 10 [Dropclaw]. As this creature was five times higher in level than you, all skills used in this encounter will receive twice the growth. Happy hunting, Adventurer!

Level Up!

1 stat points to distribute

Minor wounds healed

Level Up!

1 stat points to distribute

Minor wounds healed

Skill increase Sword Proficiency: 2 ->4

Skill increase Unarmed Combat: 2 ->3

Level four: He was almost able to get a class. The two stat points went into Agility to boost his ability to dodge and he looked at his renewed status screen to see his growth.

Horace Phillip Stone

Level: 4

Age: 11

Faction: Root

Class: ----

Traits:

Gross

(As a result of lower than average charisma)

Tough

(As a result of higher than average strength)

Stats:

Strength: 11*

Dexterity:6

Agility:4

Charisma: 2*

Will: 8

Luck: 5

Skills:

Animal Husbandry: Lvl 6

(bonus: “beastly bearing”: beasts of burden will be kinder dispositioned in your presence and have increased energy)

Axes: Lvl 4

Sword Proficiency: Lvl 4

Farming: Lvl 3

Knife Proficiency: Lvl 3

Unarmed Combat: Lvl 3

Negotiation: Lvl 2

Meditation: Lvl 2

Load Bearer: Lvl 2

The screams from the crowd made him look up at the dais where Rita and prince La'Curk sat. He refused to look at Rita; instead, he locked eyes with the prince and gave the smallest of bows. He would become stronger than all of them if only to fulfill his vows and gain a bit of peace before he is forced into an afterlife of servitude. The weak never get to rest, only the strong can truly relax as their power ensures no one will bother them.