"Fyrg!"

The shout halts all movement as if someone had cast a powerful spell. Everyone is almost embarrassed enough to stop fighting, but one in the attacking group is hell-bent on achieving his goal.

"Just give up your cards, you pig-faced whore!"

His continued onslaught inspires the others to resume as well, their metal weapons slamming into Fyrg's Phallanx images. When no one could get through the defensive line, Vine and Wren try slip in attacks of opportunity.

Upon River and Sarna's arrival, three members of the attacking party turn to face them since their previous efforts proved useless. They move to cover the backs of the burly man who shouted earlier and the similarly sized man next to him.

"Boss," one of the trio yells back, "She looks like The Betrayer and she's got some kind of man servant with her."

"I don't care if it's Agmus Mak himself, kill them and help me kill these assholes!" The angry man's twin axes are relentless in trying to get past the Fyrg in the middle and her tower shield.

Wren seizes a moment to strike, but is deftly blocked by one of the axes. "You're in trouble now, Donno. Fyrg's boyfriend is here."

"Oh shit, River Rat! Is that you?" Vine asks, firing an arrow that bounces off of a metal pauldron. "Damn, shoulder pads."

After assessing the situation, Sarna calmly finds a comfortable rock to sit on and crosses her legs. She wraps her cloak around herself to ward against the cold and gestures River to go ahead.

This is my chance to see what the boy is made of, she whispers to herself.

River had only ever faced one group of people before. They were a passing group of Player Killers, people who attacked other players for their cards. Usually, they could bully people into blanking their cards and giving them up. Other times, they would kill them. However, even though the dead bodies would produce a loot coin, it would only ever drop up to two, random cards.

Since he was alone at that time, they thought he would be an easy mark. Even though he was wearing a full set of metal armor, they pounced on him at the edge of town. Since then, in order to not garner anymore PKer's attention, he dressed in his 5th Street outfit looking to all the world like someone's servant.

It was the only time River killed people. Physically, it was easy enough to do. A threat activated his fight-or-flight instinct, he fought, and they died. Afterwards, he was conflicted.

Now, however, whatever objections he had against killing people are silent, subdued by a barely controlled anger.

The three facing him stepped into a triangular formation, with one in front of the other two. The one in front has a short spear and buckler while the other two had one-handed swords with blades a little over two feet long.

With his buffs still active, River draws his signature cleaver with his right hand and sprints at them. His enemy braces for impact. As he dashes, however, he chants the quickest incantation Sarna had ever heard--

"Triburst flash ignite!"

His free hand shoots out three, different colored darts of energy at the sword wielded on his left, each one punching through chain armor and embedding into flesh. They erupt with fire, lightning, and frost damage.

He rolls towards the weakened side of the triangle, just out of the spear wielder's range, and activates QuickDraw III. He practically teleports into the man's chest with the cleaver's partner, the chef's knife, in his left hand.

"Shit!"

The spear wielder is just in time to deflect a series of lethal strikes with his weapon and shield. The third man joins in and they both press the numerical advantage, attacking with well rehearsed coordination.

Sarna stares at the battle, beautiful jaw hanging wide open, "That... that spell... and those attacks... They're fast, but there's no power in them!"

As she says this, the first swordsman rejoins the fight, damaged, but still alive. She's just about to join in as well, but sees neither strain, nor worry on River's stone cold expression.

"Intercepting Hydra and Hordebreaker..."

His economy of movement is so tight, timing so precise, that another two attackers might be enough for him to be put on the back foot. The flurry of movement isn't so fast for her eyes to keep pace, so when white runes light up the blade of the cleaver she's curious how the fight is going to progress.

"He won't be able to deal enough damage to any of them in time. Is this one of the handicaps of his class core?"

Indeed, when someone levels up, their base stats increase by a set amount according to the classes their core unlocks. For Casters and Healers, Arcana is the stat that dictates how much mana they can funnel into a spell and therefore cause more damage or heal deeper wounds. As impressive as River's attack spell was, it didn't do nearly the same amount as a dedicated Caster of the same level.

As River fends off attacks, he sends mana into his cleaver, activating one of the enchantments he placed on it [Spell Focus].

Normally, spells are cast by invoking a ritualistic incantation, the "incanto," and instinctually focusing the mana through the palm and fingertips. Wands, spell-staves, and items enchanted with [Spell Focus] act as conduits for this mana, allowing spells to be cast as if through a free hand.

"Holy warrior, do not fear the dark path ahead. Receive the blessing of might."

Sarna's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "Oh, ho! That's what you were up to!"

"Nature's life force flows through my veins. Swift wings carry us to safety."

The buffs he used before were meant to help her keep up with him. She could tell that, even though she has a higher level, he either had some cards or something boosting his speed to a mind-blowing tempo.

Even now, the buffs weren't necessarily for him. He just needed to get the others within range. Since his mana didn't see them as hostile targets they would be included in the buff spells' Areas of Effect (AoE).

A furious multitude of spear strikes knocks back the two attacking Fyrg in time for her images to disappear. A storm of arrows rains down on the five, punching straight through them like paper.

"Finish them, River Rat!" Vine shouts as she joins Wren in sticking to Fyrg's backside like a pair of pants. Fyrg then lifts up her shield and a column of light surrounds them.

"Let loose a storm of icy shards to tear the world to shreds. No wood or iron impedes the path of glacial fury."

Weakened and defenseless, the five men are unable to withstand the tempest of frozen knives. The spell doesn't stop just because they take some damage. No, for ten agonizing seconds, their world is ripped apart.

The ice shatters against the column of light, sounding like glass striking metal. Vine cheers on the scene while Wren just yells.

In the aftermath of the spell, River uses a cloth to wipe his blades and reholsters them under his arms. The light around the trio dies down and they move to join him.

He places a hand on Fyrg's shoulder and chants an incanto a few times, "Regain a fragment of life," healing her bruises, sore muscles, and few slices.

"Thanks, River."

He does the same for the others, not quite so many times for them, though, since Fyrg did good work defending them.

From the bloody heap, a hand gropes the ground blindly for a nearby shattered axe before giving up. A groan and a bloody cough escapes the ruined face of a man.

"Who... the fuck... are you?"

River aims an outstretched hand to the man who winces when his soft, rumbling voice invokes a spell.

"Dirt and grime, muck and mire begone."

A ring of white-blue light encircles River's head, sliding down at a moderate pace and cleaning him from every stain and speck of detritus. He readjusts his vest and walks back to Sarna.

The trio stands tall before the man on the ground and Fyrg removes her helmet, revealing the matured face of a young, quarter-orc woman. The round edges of youth have acquired the edges of dangerous beauty. Dark green hair is still the same in its helmet stifled pixe cut. Her lightly gray-tinged face sports a sheen of sweat and a hard scowl.

"What do you think, guys? PKer justice?"

The man struggles to object, but he just coughs up more blood.

She turns to Wren who finishes fixing his bandana and nods his head. Vine follows with a fist on her hips and a thumbs down.

The two follow after River as Fyrg raises her heavy tower shield a few feet above the man's head. A wet crunch and heavy gong announces the dispensation of his punishment.

Still sitting on her rock, Sarna gives River a slow round of applause and chuckles softly, "What's with those knives? You didn't cook our food with them, did you?"

Wren and Vine stop in their tracks. Mouths agape, he points an accusatory finger at Sarna.

"You-- you're The Betrayer...!"

"Damn, girl, I thought those shit heads were making it up!"

Sarna looks at them with a curiously raised eyebrow. Vine's eyes dart from her to Wren's finger, back to her, and back again. She slaps his shoulder, knocking him out of his daze.

"Don't call her that, idiot. Miss... Um... Wickcutter...?"

A wry smile pulls at her golden lips and she nods once at her.

Fyrg joins her friends, watching the woman and how she interacts with River, "Are we looting the PKers?"

Her friends pause for thought, but Sarna holds up a hand as if to give her permission, "That's the law. They did attack you, right?"

River agrees with a nod. He's drawing out a simple ritual circle on the ground with a pouch of salt with a thin spout near the top. He places a palm sized disk of wood in the center and, using a small vial and dropper, adds three drops of mercury.

"Oh!" Vine bounces on the balls of her feet, "I fuckin' love this spell! Y'all gonna let me ride it, right, River Rat?"

He shrugs with a smile, "There is work to be done, materials to move. Lift and follow loyal piece of the cosmos."

The salt lines and materials glow with a strange, black aura. The light fills and covers the outline of the circle before floating several feet off the ground. The disk looks a paper thin sheet of black marble. He gestures for the others to hop on board, to which Vine joyfully acquiesces and sits cross legged in the center.

Wren sits on the rear edge, legs hanging off and spear in his lap. River offers Sarna a hand as she climbs aboard and sits in the center near Vine. He does the same for Fyrg who smiles warmly at him. She takes a seat at the front.

He leads everyone over to the pile of bodies, accessing the loot coins and collecting seven cards. He also picks up pieces of equipment that remained intact. All these things he gave to Fyrg.

"You... don't want any of it?"

He just shakes his head. After adjusting his orientation, he continues the trek to Ruminy.

Sarna finally has people to talk to, but they don't seem eager to converse. Wren is either shy or intimidated and Fyrg prefers to keep her eye on River, running a gloved hand to fix her dark green hair.

Vine stares at her, though, unaware of how weird it makes her seem.

"So... boyfriend, eh?" Sarna asks, pointing her chin at the two in front.

"Huh? Oh... oh, no! The're just close. We just like fuckin with them."

Fyrg shoots a withering look over her shoulder, then playfully sticks out her tongue. Vine returns it with her rude, elvish hand gesture.

Wren lays back, fingers laced behind his head, "She's waiting for him to ask her out, but he only ever talks in incantos."

"That's not true!" Fyrg argues, "He talks! Sometimes..."

River straightens out his clothes, but continues his march, finding another trail to follow.