Erramir smiled at Val's Spider Woman antics. “Congrats. It’s a good one; saved me several times in just that last fight alone. That skill is like pre-cognition. Combined with the gut sense, it’s potent. Can you amplify your attributes as well?”

Val sat up slowly. “Yuuup.” She drawled, obviously still flying high. “Now I can be a monkey too." Val lifted her chin toward him. “Soooo, what’s Insight do?”

“It like a lie detector skill with a side of curiosity.” He cocked his head. “Do I seem more curious to you?”

“Yess?” She blinked, then shrugged. “No idea.”

Erramir chuckled. "Right. Maybe I'll ask again later. Bottom line is that Insight makes me uncomfortable in the presence of deception, doubly so if I try and lie to myself.”

“Huh. Good for buying gear, haggling with merchants and stuff." Val then lost interest in the conversation and turned back to her notifications. With a knowing smile, Erramir did the same.

Named Weapon bonded – Diviner: Congratulations, you have forged an intuitive bond with Diviner, former soul blade of Valic, famed Dae’drav of the Qar’Darkar military, under whose command many victories were won. Diviner can now channel your soul energy.

Congratulations, you have killed Undavir the Mining Construct, a level 15 Champion!

Experience gained: 22,636

Well done Erramir Darkfyre. You have gained 2 levels. You are now level 7. Your 12 racial attribute points have been assigned. Your experience-based attribute point gains are as follows: +1 Strength, +4 Agility, +3 Constitution, +1 Intelligence, and +1 Willpower.

You have gained 4 free attribute points to allocate.

Total available free attribute points: 28*

*Advanced Attribute Unlocked: Insight. Equilibrium bonus restriction lifted–free attribute points unlocked

Title Gained: Und Varden – Your party is the first in a millennium to win a fight against tainted unbound essence within the blighted lands of the Brael Bloudran Dwarves. Brael Bloudran will consider you a friend and ally.

Effect: Varden Sigil Earned.

“Ahhh!” Erramir yelled as the skin on his right forearm flared with searing pain. Valerie’s howl of pain came right on the heels of his. Erramir doffed his helmet and scrambled to undo his bracer clasps while Val did the same.

Erramir managed it first. The rounded plate-armor piece dinged against stone tunnel floor as he jerked up the sleeve of his cotton under-garment. He stared, shocked and wide-eyed, at a startlingly vivid tattoo of the rooted hammer sigil.

Even with DrakkenWood Skin active, it was crisp and clear, as if painted onto his black scales. The image even seemed to subtly shift with life when he rotated his arm for a better look.

Befuddled at having a duplicate of the sigil, he opened his palm. The semi-holographic version of the same design, that had floated there, was gone.

His attention returned to his arm. The burn was all but gone now and his mind immediately throttled back, settling as it absorbed details.

The complex tangle of roots, twisting and life-like, now reached just beyond the tattoo’s encircling ring, giving the impression of having burrowed around or under the barrier. Atop them rose the trunk of a gnarly weather-worn tree. Its bark all rough ridges and plunging cervices, the deepest bits lost in shadow.

At its top, the union point between double-sided, square-faced hammer and ancient trunk was bridged by an elaborate runic engraving that occupied the whole center portion of the hammer. Within the engraving, runic symbols, twisting Gaelic patterns, a pair dragon heads, and the tree-pointed crown were all clearly depicted.

Then there was the hammer. Distinct but simple, it stood out in clear contrast to the other elements.

Centered prominently at the hammer’s top, gleamed a blood-red ruby in the three-pointed crown.

Erramir scowled, considering.

He did not like the rooted hammer sigil’s association with the malevolent twelve-pointed star. That emblem, featured prominently on the wall in the ruins had given them all the feeling of representing darkness over an ocean of blood. Even thinking of it made him uneasy.

Even so, he had not felt anything malicious from any of the hammer sigils they had come across. And like this, alone on his arm, it seemed completely disconnected from the disturbing and blood-thirsty star sigil.

He pulled the notification back up. “Brael Bloudran Dwarves...” He hmm'd, cocking his head. “Like the face from the door. Maybe its some kind of reputation gain?” Erramir posited, looking to Val.

She was not of the same mind. “What the Fuck, Err! Your stupid game tattooed me!” She was glaring at him and holding her arm up accusingly. It bore the same emblem.

Utterly thrown off by her sudden mood swing, Erramir looked at his longtime friend in earnest confusion.

“Val, you know I didn’t create this quest or this–” Erramir raised a hand, head shaking,“–reputation mark. If that’s what it is, Elle did. But still, don’t you have like, a dozen tattoos in real life?” The explanation and his honest question did not help.

Valerie actually growled at him, and Erramir’s attitude sobered immediately.

“Hey, I’m sorry. Really, Val, I had no idea we’d get that title or this.” He held up his mark. “I think it’s actually a good thing. But, forget about that. I don’t understand why you’re mad." He paused, then tenderly asked, “What’s up, Val?”

She glowered between him and her tattoo. “Goddammit!” Val yelled and spun, raising a fist as if to punch the tunnel wall. Her arm trembled with tension.

Good sense won out, and she slammed her balled hand down, then stormed away.

Rumbling angrily, she stalked the tunnel, growling with barely suppressed rage until she was maybe fifty feet away. For several long seconds, she stood there, fists clenched. Then she screamed like a wild banshee.

Val thundered for several minutes, cutting about in bursts of speed while swinging wildly at memories and unleashing intermittent shrieks. Erramir watched wide-eyed and a little scared. After a bit and some considering, he began to get an inkling as to what had unearthed her fury. For as long as he'd known Val, there had always only been one black mark on her soul. It was a darkness that, in many ways, defined her.

Watching Val rage, his perspective expanded, and he could see the bonds between them: respect, trust, and undying loyalty. Val's need for them burned like the sun, and he and Carson were both built, in their own ways, to want the same.

Val's wound was the fuel that had forged their friendship. He and Car were the friends that Val never needed to doubt. They were on her side no matter what came. They had been like that from the beginning.

Erramir saw this truth, understood it, and released it. He didn't care. What else was friendship but the medicine that everyone needed to feel less alone? In a sense, deep wounds created the potential for deep friendships.

So he knew Val, he knew she needed this, and he waited. Eventually, her head of steam puttered out, and she stood staring at the ground.

The tunnel felt unnaturally quiet after all the noise, and Erramir began to worry what kind of trouble might be drawn to such a racket. Then Val jerked her head back and screamed into the ceiling.

“IT’S NOT YOURS!”

Not long after, anger abated, she walked back, breathing deep and steady. Erramir could see she wasn’t done with being upset but had at least managed to burn through the worst of it. When her eyes found his, Erramir saw a swirl of anger, sadness, and pain in them. This confirmed what he already suspected; for Val, this was about more than the tattoo–it was about her body.

Val saw his understanding and sheepishly came over and slumped to the ground beside him. Her head drooped as she leaned into him and started quietly crying. Erramir put an arm around her as his own eyes began to feel glassy. He focused on her, willing his own tears away; mirroring her pain to that degree wouldn’t help.

When he felt balanced, Erramir spoke softly, “The game didn’t ask, did it?”

Val shook her head slowly. “No.” Her voice thick with sorrow and loss. “This is my body.” And even quieter, “I say, nobody else.”

Erramir thought about probing more, but he didn’t. It felt too raw, and he wasn’t sure he was even ready to hear more. Instead, he considered what he knew about Kuora and came to a conclusion that seemed reasonable. This he shared. “I’m not sure, but we might be able to do something. Do you want to try and move it, or maybe eliminate it completely?”

She looked at him with red eyes, “Can we do that?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s a game, and we seem to be able to define our own boundaries here.” He considered his new Insight attribute and the implied importance of personal truth. “You know that saying, your perception is your reality?”

“Yeah”

“Well, my father embodies that in a really cool way. He creates things based on what he wants to be possible, regardless of what seems possible. But that’s not always a straight road; people don’t see it, but he screws stuff up all the time. The best part is that he loves it.” Erramir warmed at those memories. “He’s really made a mess of some things. When I was little, he got half his body stuck in an early prototype of his adaptive body armor. You know, my beetle shell.”

“Which half?” asked Val, smiling under puffy eyes.

“Hah! That was the thing; it wasn’t even really half, more like 50%. It covered his body in random patches with these long cords connecting them, almost like he got wrapped up by a drunk spider. We all laughed so hard about it. The stuff had a really low mobility factor in that early version, so he had to kind of shuffle slowly around the house. Stairs were basically impossible, so he had to sleep on the couch, and my mom had to literally feed him so he could finish a meal in less than an hour.”

Erramir wore a big happy smirk. “I’ll never forget his attitude. He loved it, laughed and laughed, kept cracking jokes at his own expense. It was a riot for days. I don’t think I’ve ever smiled so much in my life. It was unbelievably inconvenient, but all my dad saw was the humor and the opportunity to learn.”

Erramir looked up at the memories. “Here it’s like that–you define your reality. I’m cool with this tattoo.” He squeezed the arm around Val that bore the mark. “I kind of like it, so there’s no way I could change it, at least not without first changing that attitude.” Val tilted her head in consideration.

Erramir continued, “Obviously, you don’t want it, or at least don’t want it there. That won’t help though, the game won’t respond to that.” He lifted his other hand, palm up as if holding something invisible. “If you know what you do want, that you might be able to work with.”

Val sat up, wiping away tears, and Erramir removed his arm. She looked down at the tattoo, “It is a cool emblem.”

In her mind, Virg added his opinion,

Val sent kind gratitude to him and contemplated, where would she like to have a tattoo? The truth was, she didn’t want any tattoos, not here, not on her new body. She also realized that she didn’t want to get rid of it completely. Frustrated, she looked at Erramir, “I don’t want any tattoos, but I also don’t want to get rid of it.”

Erramir nodded in understanding. “Right. So, what’s on the flip side of that? What do you want?”

Valerie scowled–that was harder.

She pushed herself away from the tunnel wall, spun about to sit cross-legged facing Erramir, and took Virg into her lap.

How? she sent to Virg.

Valerie pondered, make like him... how exactly would she do that? Entiarch wasn’t here, and she definitely wasn’t comfortable with that level of physical expression in front of Erramir. Although, upon reflection, she wasn’t sure the intensely arousing part of Virginwood’s creation was typical. Val suspected it might have been a side effect of his gaining sentience.

Val ran a hand along the smooth wood, enjoying its cool, almost soft feel under her fingers. Virg sent her the feeling of contented relaxation, which made her smile.

Looking back at Erramir, she recoiled faintly as his black scales melted away in front of her eyes, leaving his far more human countenance.

“Ahh, look at that.” Erramir held up his arm–the tattoo looked the same. “Must have been a half-hour.” His face was more expressive without the racial armor, but his eyes were the same.

Val gave him a soft, crooked smirk. “You’re still you.”

He returned her look. “More than skin deep, right.” Then nodded toward Virg. “So? What are you thinking?”

“Virg wants to help. He says to make the tattoo like him.” As she spoke the words aloud, they seemed to make more sense. “Like maybe I can transfer the tattoo to him, or I can use some of his substance to make a medallion or something?”

Val remembered the other skill she’d gained with a start. “Oh, hey. I've got that skill that lets me imbue and bind essence into things. Do you think this is essence based?” She held up her marked arm.

“Yeah, I’ll bet it is. Really, that’s the only thing that makes sense. Essence seems to be the medium of magic here.” He held up his own mark; the roots on it seemed to radiate life. “And this is definitely magical.”

“It is, right.” Val looked into the air, seemingly reading a system description. “When Entiarch and I created Virg, we both imbued him with a portion of our soul essence; I'm almost positive that’s what made him sentient. From that, I gained the skill Bind Essence, which seems a bit like enchanting.”

She looked over and wobbled a hand. “Just less hocus-pocusy.” Then returned to the invisible text. “Anyhow, listen to this last part of the skill description.

“Bound materials may be anything, but more well-structured substances have greater potential. Materials such as gems, certain pure or aligned metals, and particular woods are superior. Of note, woven wood is one of the most dynamic foci. Magically generated materials are also a powerful, although somewhat unpredictable, focus.”

Erramir instantly thought about rune crafting. The two skills didn’t seem all that dissimilar; they just used different methods to manipulate essence into objects. This caused him to wonder exactly how runes worked. Were the symbols inherently powerful? If so, could anyone create a rune? Or were Rune Crafters the only ones who could make them work? And if so, why?

Then, knowing this wasn’t the time, Erramir shelved those thoughts and focused on Val. Her description had mentioned metals, and that gave him an idea. Fishing around in his bag, he pulled out the und infused plate and small gear; the gear seemed about right. He tossed it to Val. “Can you use that?” Then stowed the plate.

Val caught the gear. “Why would I need this? It’s not woven wood.”

“Your description said certain aligned metals.” Erramir half shrugged and indicated the gear with his chin. “That’s magically aligned and exceptional quality. I don’t know all the quality ranks, but exceptional is normally pretty good. Your skill also said well-structured, and that stuff was seriously tough.”

With a raised brow and slightly pursed lips, he shrugged a shoulder. “Seems like a good candidate; why not give it a try? Beyond that, I don’t think I can help much. Rune crafting seems similar, but it’s based on symbols, and all I’ve managed to do so far is read runes.”

Val looked at the circular gear. It was slightly smaller than her palm with a raised rim, maybe a quarter-inch thick, that was crenulated with shallow gear teeth. The middle was smooth with a hole in the center. She held it over the tattoo, and it covered almost perfectly. That was good, if size was even important.

Given Erramir’s understanding, maybe she could transform it into a pendant. “Ok, but why wouldn’t I just use material from Virg? He seems willing and that I understand, at least somewhat.”

“I’m not sure, honestly. I just thought of it. Maybe you could use both.”

“But why, though? Seems more complicated,” asked Val.

That was a good question. Erramir tilted his head down to the side, and his brow furrowed. Why do I think that?

He had a clear sense that Val would need the gear, or at least that she would benefit from using it. But logically, he couldn’t point to any reason why; woven wood and aligned materials were both mentioned in her skill description. After a long moment, he gave up trying to understand and lifted his head back to Val. “It just makes sense to me for some reason.”

Val conferred with Virg. Can you help, Virg? Can we use this metal?

That seemed promising.

Val was left with only her partially resolved concern about the physically arousing aspect of weaving Virg. Before tromping down the passage to find some privacy, she asked the staff. Virg, will this be the same as when we created you?

She frowned; that was less than helpful.

Do you remember when we created you, Virg?

The staff took a moment, then replied,

Valerie figured that was probably the best she was going to get. This would be different. Maybe her suspicions were correct, and wood weaving wouldn’t always be such a sensual experience. God, I hope so. I don't want to 'get a room' any time I weave.

She smirked, then looked at the gear, considering where to start, and suddenly felt overwhelmed by the whole endeavor. Before the feeling got a hold of her, she thought about Erramir’s story about his father.

Bendik doesn’t always know what he’s doing, but it doesn’t stop him. She took a deep breath and relaxed. Val didn’t have to understand everything–she just needed to start.

Focusing on what she knew: this was possible, and she wanted the tattoo off her body, Val closed her eyes and began.