Over the next couple of weeks, Cire settled into an alarmingly familiar, albeit comfortable, routine. He would wake with Eugene and Stacy. Spend some time working around the farm, and then most days end up at the tavern. Cire finished off the quest he was working on and generally got to know the customs of Sunset. He worked on his skills by sparring with Stacy. He even managed to finally consume all the basic information scrolls, unpleasant as the experience was. The process garnered an additional benefit. He now knew that there were some general skills, without aptitude requirements.

You have gained a new skill: Lore (General)

“The only true wisdom is knowing you know nothing.” - Socrates

At initiate rank you have access to basic knowledge based actions with no penalty.

By far the most important piece of information from the scrolls had been buried deep in the one labeled “The Basics of Stats, Skills, Abilities, Traits and Aspects.”1 Under the Luck stat description it stated, “An individual’s luck stat modifies their chance to collect resources, items, and skills.” That certainly explained the difficulty he was having in gaining a variety of skills.

Counter to his previous convictions and the likely results, he still tried his hand at logging, mining, and even skinning. Vampires with low Luck stats were predictably ill-suited to laboring with their hands. However, that didn’t stop him from trying.

While out with the logging team, Andreas had referred to the most common tree as a Twin Pine. Cire, thinking it peculiar, had followed up. “Andreas, why is it called a Twin Pine? That’s a bit of an odd name.”

Andreas tilted his head to the side. “I hadn’t thought about it really, but yeah it is odd if you don’t know the reason. It’s called that because of its massive root structure. The roots go almost as deep as the tree is tall. Once the they mature, after about two to three hundred years according to Stout, it’s next to impossible for them to be uprooted.”

Nicolas hefted his axe as they ambled down the logging trail. “That stump over there.” He pointed behind the tavern. “It’s the only tree the logging crew has ever brought down. Now it’s a dancing platform for festivals and parties.”

Andreas chuckled. “At least that’s what the others told us. Remember, we have only been here a few weeks. It makes sense though. It does look like most of the buildings in town were made from a single large tree. So far we’ve only been harvesting branches, they are the size of regular trees from back home.”

Cire enjoyed the company and the easy conversation. Working with the brothers was satisfying, even if he hadn’t managed to brute force his way into learning a skill by the end of the day. He ended up with handfuls of blisters and some coppers for his efforts. Not bad, but not great either. No more logging Cire it’s not worth it, maybe mining will go better.

During one of the afternoons, after a chilling spring shower, Cire set out for a hunt. In his estimation it was best to go during the day to avoid suspicion. He made his way cautiously to the woods near town. Avoiding the logging camp and the miners was a minor inconvenience, but worth every step.

The vampire stalked through the trees, keeping to the shadows. Now accustomed to his armor and this terrain he crept unnoticed to a familiar glade. Peeking around a tree, a tranquil setting enchanted Cire.

Butterflies circled and danced from one pink flower to the next. Explosions of color decorated the clearing, vegetation sparkled with droplets of fresh rain. A brilliant rainbow hung low in the air under a tempestuous sky. Roiling gray storm clouds still polka dotted a mostly clear and sunny day.

No boars disrupted the scene with their lascivious distractions. Cire stepped out from the trees and made a slow circuit of the glade. While he did enjoy the beauty of nature, purpose drove him onward. I have to figure this out. I have to control it.

Dashing from a nearby spearberry bush, a hare bounded away from Cire. Adrenaline and desire surged through his veins. Cire took a deep breath and then sprinted after the grayish-brown mammal. He focused on regulating his breathing and conjured bitter memories to block out the anticipation of euphoria.

When Cire got close, almost out of the clearing and right before the cover of the trees, he threw his sword at the hare. It tumbled end over end and struck the small animal with the flat of its blade. The vampire pounced and enveloped the hare. He did his best to keep the small struggling critter alive.

The hare’s screams were deafening and unlike what the vampire had expected, almost childlike. Even though he had wrapped his hand around the hares mouth as fast as he could, he wasn’t sure if anyone else had heard the disturbance. Cire pulled himself into a sitting position and cradled his prey against his armor. It struggled futilely.

Cire waited nervously in the clearing, having shattered the innocence it held moments before. After a good amount of time had passed and no one had come around, he decided to move onto the next part of his personal training.

Regulating his breathing, Cire pulled air in through his nose and let it out through his mouth. He closed his eyes and centered himself. Then he twisted and snapped the neck of the hare as he cradled it like a baby.

Fangs began to protrude inside his closed mouth and heart beats thundered in his ears. Cire continued to breath and centered on the calming rhythm. His stomach twisted, filled with a lunch of Stout’s poorly made meat and potato pie.

As Cire had begun to assume, his hunger for blood appeared to be tied to his actual hunger. If he wasn’t in a survival situation or fasting, his divine soul seemed to eliminate his need to actually drink blood, so far. I haven’t felt any odd compulsions between using my Bite ability and I have gone a couple of days. I have only had an addiction-like response to the sight and smell of blood. Okay, next step.

Cire took a deep breath and held it, breaking the cycle of breathing. He forced his fangs down and used the Bite ability to drain the Hare. Every few seconds a fresh wave of pleasure splashed over him. Cire’s will held.

Releasing the crushed and mangled body of the bunny to the ground, Cire licked his lips clean. His tongue moved oddly over his fangs, still new to the feel. The vampire slowly smiled, and stood. That’s how you do it Cire. Don’t let anything or anyone else make your decisions for you. Now, one more time.

Going out with Durg a few days later didn’t produce much better results than logging. Cire had to practically beg the dwarf to take him. Durg had cautioned him that he probably wouldn’t be welcome in the mine. However, Cire had pressed him and the dwarf had given in.

Cire had been denied the chance to swing a pick before he had even held one. Hard boots had roughly collided with his shins and thighs as two dwarf brothers had quite literally kicked him out of the shaft. They had rather severe opinions about the idea of an elf bringing bad luck to the mine. Durg had tried to intervene for his friend. But Cire had backed down willingly in the face of causing a disturbance.

Durg explained the reaction. “Bah! Ya see my friend, most o' the time dwarf clans be gettin' along. Na matter the type. Sure there be blood feuds between some, but there be plenty o' things that bring most of us together. Them there Stonebone Clan, they be a clan that cannae get along with outsiders. Na anyone really. This be why I tried to tell ya not ta come.”

With a humph he resumed.

“Ya best not come in ta the mine today, sorry about that. Maybe some day when the Stonebone brothers ain’t around. If ya want ta stick with it, ya can dig through the tailins' ‘n see if we missed somethin’.”

Cire looked over to the commiserating dwarf and grumbled under his breath a little.

“What are 'tailins' and what am I looking for? What would you have missed?”

Slapping the Cire on the back with a chuckle Durg gave him some encouragement.

“That's the trick. Tailins' be everything we do not cart back ta town. That pile over there.”

Durg pointed to the side of the mine entrance where several lumps of soil and rocks rested in loosely sorted piles.

“If ya find anythin' that looks like it be worth somethin', boyo, pick it out. Shiny, glittery, or strange.”

Cire situated himself and Durg hurried off to get a good day of work in. Setting himself to the rather dull task of sorting through a pile of rocks was not exciting. I did ask to tag along. I should at least see if I can find something.

Shifting high overhead a few hours later, the sun blazed at mid-day. A light pink sunburn settled onto Cire’s neck and shoulders, the discomfort made him retreat under the shade of a nearby oak tree.

Joining him with a loud thump, Durg settled to the dirt. The dwarf began talking through a mouthful of nuts and dried fruit he was cramming into his mouth. “Ya..” chomp, crunch “...fund anyfuthiiin' ubeful?”

Looking away and grimacing as bits of the mixture bounced off his exposed arm. “No, not yet. Mind talking after lunch? I have a bit of a headache?”

Cire did not enjoy lying, he rarely used white lies, but this was a case that called for it. Thankfully, the dwarf agreed to wait until after eating to continue the conversation. Gobbling down the rations, Durg was speaking in a few minutes, which would have annoyed Cire if he had actually been hurting.

“So ya gunna keep at it? Na gunna go back ta Stout's for an ale?”

Nodding and then shrugging, partially in resignation and somewhat out of hope, Cire replied.

“I would rather keep myself busy and figure out what I am good at. 'Sides, Stout doesn't seem to like me very much and I would have no company. A couple of days ago he practically chased me out of the tavern. Said he needed time to himself. He tasked me to pick spear berries. Which I think was more of a punishment than an actual task.

“They grow everywhere in the woods, but he told me the ones near the stage were off limits for some reason. Never explained himself, just told me to get out. I came back with a full basket a few hours later. All I got was the promise of free drinks for a couple of days and 100 experience. Wasn’t worth it, but I got the message.”

Grinning, he slapped Durg along the shoulders and gave him a half hug before releasing.

“We can always go there when you finish up for the day. Spend some of your hard-earned coin. Maybe I’ll pitch in if I end up finding something.”

Disappearing into the mine, it was Durg grumbling this time, he suspected he was going to end up paying for the first few rounds. Lounging in the shade for a while longer, Cire caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over to the tailings piles and narrowed his eyes. Nothing seemed to be overtly amiss.

Cautiously heading back to where he had been sifting before, he tried looking through the clods of dirt. He began to take the medium-sized ones and throw them into the ground, hoping they would reveal something. Hesitating after the twentieth or so throw, he wondered if there was any point to this at all. Durg is buying now though, so I better keep looking and show some effort.

Unexpectedly, tossing the next clod to the dirt did not produce the same results as before. Dirt shed off of the lump, but it largely stayed intact. Quirking an eyebrow, he leaned down and lifted the object up.

He removed a few wet pieces of earth from the odd shaped piece of metal? Ore? Cire did not know what it was, but it did not seem to be dirt, so that was a win. Emerging from the soil was a fist sized chunk of a dark silvery black glittering mass of.... something.

Unknown Ore

Rarity: Unknown

Uses: Most ores can be smelted and used to create various objects. Additional information unknown.

Finding something, anything, motivated him to continue breaking the clods for the next few hours. His efforts yielded two more of the weird-looking pieces of ore. Each one of them blended well into the dirt and they were surprisingly light, which explained why they had been missed.

Cire felt an odd shiver run up his spine, was he being watched? Breaking another clod of soil by throwing it to the ground. He timed his next movement as close to the pieces of dirt falling as he could.

He whirled around looking for a voyeur. A quick flitter of movement in the corner of his vision, but that was all. Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, he glared around at the area in which he was ostensibly alone. Sounds of clinking from the mine reached his ears, but nothing more.

Ambling back to his resting spot, his suspicions of an intruder were confirmed in a most unpleasing way. Missing from where he had placed it, the larger chunk of ore was gone. Holding onto the remaining two pieces tightly, he settled under the tree to wait for his friend. Scanning the area every couple of minutes yielded no evidence of the thief. Perhaps it was an animal? Beast? What could have taken it?

Appearing at the tunnel mouth some time later, Durg gave a grunting shout to Cire. He waved him over to help pull the cart holding the day's work. After hauling the load to the back of the tavern, the team of miners all stood around for a bit catching their breath. Most of the dwarven and human miners began to unload the cache of iron ore into a pile. Sucking in a few breaths, Cire pushed himself to finish off the work for the day and joined in.

Staggering to the tavern once finished, it was not until he was deep into a mug of ale that he recalled his discovery. Pulling the two small pieces of ore from his pocket and laying them on the table before Durg, Cire looked to him questioningly.

“Know what this is? Are they worth anything?”

After picking up one of the pieces, the dwarf's eyebrows rose high. He choked on some of the mead he had been swallowing.

“I dinna expect ya ta actually find anythin' ya know. Thought we did a good job o’ sortin’ everthin’.”

Durg closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before rolling the small piece around in his hand. He grunted and set it back down.

“Nah that I be knowin' what it is mind ya. It do seem pretty rare. All the same, it be goin' ta Maisy n' Stout seein' as they own the mine. We cannae keep base metals and the like, but anythin' rare or gems go ta them. I’m sure ya will get some coin for it though.”

Cire went back to his ale with an annoyed look on his face, at least the day wasn’t a complete loss.

Days later, well after finishing the quest, he addressed the notifications he had received from it and his laborious activities the last couple of weeks. Cire’s skills had grown considerably, even while banking his points from leveling. He even got a nice sub-skill while he dodged Stace's attacks during a training session while not wearing armor– Fluid Motion.

This was the first skill that gave him some hope for true survivability in combat. He may not be able to wear decent armor, but if he could avoid getting hitin the first place he considered that preferable.

There had been another pleasant surprise, even if the new skill did not seem all that useful. His time playing in the dirt at the mine had paid off.

You have gained a new sub-skill: Fluid Motion (Rare) Martial Combat Tree.

“Everything flows, and nothing abides, everything gives way, and nothing stays fixed.” - Heraclitus

At initiate rank your Dexterity stat will provide a .5% chance to dodge for each point above 10.

You have gained a new skill: Scavenging (Rare)

“Eureka!” - Archimedes

At initiate rank you have a 5% chance to find a random resource, related to your environment, while searching through refuse, debris, or waste.

Skill level up! You have reached level 8 in Blades.

Skill level up! You have reached level 8 in Large Blades.

Skill level up! You have reached skill level 5 in Armor.

Skill level up! You have reached skill level 5 in Light Armor.

Skill level up! You have reached skill level 3 in Martial Combat.

You have received 5,000 experience for Down the Dire Boars III.

You have gained +3,500 Relationship Points with Eugene.

Your relationship with Eugene has improved from Friendly to Fondness.

You have gained +3,500 Relationship Points with Stacy.

Your relationship with Stacy has improved from Friendly to Fondness.

You have gained +1,000 Relationship Points with the residents of The Hamlet of Sunset.

Level 6 Acquired!

Received per level

Points

Health & Mana Points

You receive 5 – 10 hit points per level + constitution modifier (4)

You receive 5 – 10 mana points per level + intelligence modifier (3)

11

8

Skill Points

You currently receive one skill point per level.

6

Ability Points

You currently receive one ability point per level.

3

Racial Bonus

You receive an additional skill point per level that is restricted to a martial skill of your choice.

6

Biographical Information:

Name: Ciresil

Level: 6

Experience: 21,141

Race: Vampire – Sun Elf

Class: Unavailable – Requirements not met

Alignment: Neutral

Languages: Divine Elvish, Common

Stats:

Health: 74/74

Mana: 65/65

Armor: 13

Dodge: 4.5%

Strength: 14

Dexterity: 19

Constitution: 14

Intelligence: 13

Spirit: 9

Charisma: 19

Luck: 7

Resistances:

25% Enchantment

20% Weather

-50% Holy Magic

Aspects:

Indefatigable

Skills:

Wilderness Survival 3, Natural

Martial Combat 3, Natural

Sub-skill: Fluid Motion 1, Natural

Blades 8, Natural

Sub-skill: Large Blades 8, Natural

Scavenging 1, Natural

Armor 5, Average

Sub-skill: Light Armor 5, Average

Herbalism 1, None

Lore 3, General

Abilities:

Shapechanger, Bite (3), Regeneration

Traits:

Child of Night: Vampiric abilities, Darkvision. If noticed by others, your true nature may have drastic consequences. Other elements of this trait may reveal themselves over time.

Child of Heaven: You have retained a divine soul. Reduced susceptibility to Holy Magic, vampiric light vulnerability negated, vampiric hunger reduced. Other elements of this trait may reveal themselves over time.

Elven Heritage: 25% Enchantment Resistance.

Inventory:

Basic Set of Clothing (Body)

Blessed Fine Steel Longsword (equipped)

Light Linen Armored Cuirass (Chest)

Light Linen Armored Pants (Legs)

Light Linen Armored Gauntlets (Arms)

Light Linen Boots (Feet)

Light Linen Helm (Head)

Steel Longsword (unequipped)

Small Pouch of Coins (pocket): 2 gold, 34 silver, 14 copper

Later that evening, well after reviewing his new skills, the most thrilling and terrifying thing he had ever witnessed swooped out of the sky at the western ridge of the valley. Clanging of pots & pans, shouts of 'run', 'hide', and 'Roc' could be heard cascading like a wave through the valley.

Cire and Stacy had been splitting firewood. Stace grabbed Cire’s hand mid-swing, the jostling caused the axe to fly errantly into the ground inches from Cire's foot. Stacy paid it no heed, Cire was drug by the hefty man into the cabin. Closing the door with a bang, the ranger turned to face Cire and pointed up to the ceiling.

“A Roc lives somewhere east of here. You know, giant bird that feeds on whales and cattle. Generally, he is a boon. He keeps larger monsters away from the valley. However, Chuckles, that is what we call him, sometimes takes a villager or two if he can get his claws on them. He only passes over about once a month. Completely forgot to warn you about him, sorry about that.”

Stace grinned in a half mad fashion and gave Cire a slap on the shoulders. “He should be past us faster than a mountain cat with its tail on fire.”

Right at that moment, there was a loud slapping thud from in front of the cabin and the ground shook. Cire would have guessed that it was an earthquake if it hadn’t been for the odd sound.

“Stace, what was that?”

Next the winds came, the shutters on the cabin burst open and then slammed shut several times. Both men pinballed around inside of the small room, thrown by massive gusts. They bounced off one another first and then into various walls.

As suddenly as they began, the gusts stopped. There was dead silence for enough time that both were about to speak. Then the winds picked up again, pulling them towards the windows one moment and then slamming them down the next. It felt like an utterly insane roller coaster.

Each of the survivors pulled themselves to their hands and knees to look at each other. They listened intently to see if the giant avian terror would return. Only after a decent amount of time had passed with nothing happening Cire ventured to ask.

“So, that happen often?”

Stace shook his head and stood, testing his legs. “That was a first for me friend, but I have a pretty good idea as to what happened. I have seen something like this from a distance. Let’s go take a look.”

Stace opened the door to a gruesome sight, a landscape awash in gore. Whatever animal had squirmed its way free of the giant eagle-like bird's claws had not survived impact with the ground. Nor had it stayed intact as Chuckles retrieved it. Bits and pieces of it remained.... everywhere. After a moment to lament the gift bestowed upon them, they got to work cleaning it up.

Both were soon joined by a good part of the folks who had heard, seen, or felt the event. Everyone helped out in the mountains. After all, 'split the rest' was not a reference only to getting a share of the loot. The statement proclaimed clearly that whatever the challenge, the whole community faced it together.

Villagers started making jokes while cleaning up the mess. They laughed loudly to distract themselves from the disgusting task. Cire now understood why the Roc's name was 'Chuckles'.

1See the Tables & Charts chapter for additional information.