4.09

“Orcs have a very… utilitarian view on child-raising. By the time an orc can walk, they are expected to be able to sustain themselves in the wild, slay a dangerous and/or cunning creature in a hunt and have fought two challenges of dominance from other baby orcs. Anything short of death in these infantile challenges are seen as mere childs play, even if they lose a limb.” - Excerpt from ‘Horrors and Wonders’, famed travelogue of Lithian the Dust Treader.

Grimm Bastion Breaker stared blearily at the sky.

‘Where is my axe?’ he wondered as he felt the unfamiliar handle of the weapon he’d been using.

He raised his hand to his head… to see he was holding someone’s ankles. Grimm gradually lifted his arm until the person he’d been using a flail for the past five minutes was eye-level with him.

Noam coughed out a glob of blood. His normally blue skin was covered in bruises and blood. And despite the fact half of his bones were broken in some ways, he still sheepishly smiled.

“Strange meeting you here.”

“So you’re a Traveller,” Grimm conversationally started as he sat the half-dead Noam on a stool.

Noam grunted in pain before flopping over like a pool noodle, dripping blood everywhere. “Yup…” he barely breathed out. “Ahhh fuck…” he moaned, his adrenaline had long since drained out, leaving only the pain of being used a flail for five minutes.

“I’ll whip something up,” Grimm said, knowing full well Noam would be fine even if he died but feeling somewhat dishonourable for not extending a hand for a fellow who braved the Sun with him.

Grimm shuffled through the dozens of cabinets and ingredients drawers of his Blood Brother’s former store. Finding a decent slab of meat and some spices. To his dismay though, he found that his nephew had replaced the former wood stove with a magical one. Bah, without the taste of fire and charcoal meat was subpar.

It would have to do though, so he gathered the ingredients and drew from his back an absolutely massive axe. An axe that did not look like one of those sensible medieval war-axes, but a fantasy axe on several layers of crack. The length of the axe blade was wider than Noam, and Grimm had to shuffle awkwardly to fit the handle that was as tall as he was.

Noam raised an eyebrow at the unwieldy weapon before it turned to awe as Grimm used it.

The giant axe flowed in the kitchen like water. Delicately dicing an onion into exact cubes smaller than die. A potato was peeled and cut into thin slices within a single stroke. Noam’s awe only grew when Grimm moved to carve the meat. The axe blade that was probably thicker than most dictionaries exquisitely and cleanly removed fat and bone from the slab of meat. Not a single cubic nanometre of meat was wasted or removed.

“Holy shit,” Noam exclaimed, more than slightly awestruck at the almost supernatural display of skill.

“Hmm?” Grimm grunted as he glanced at Noam.

Noam tried, and failed to lift a neck that was probably broken, “Gahh…” settling to vaguely flop his arm at the giant axe, “It’s just, how can you do that?”

“This?” Grimm answered as he slid the cuts into a pan, “Hmm… I don’t know, it was handy when I started cooking and I’ve been using it ever since.”

Noam knew how difficult how it would be to use an axe like that. Especially when it looked so top-heavy. Both from personal experience and when Declan got really into researching medieval weaponry that one time he tried crafting.

Grimm swiftly finished cooking, though to Noam’s disappointment he didn’t display some other supernatural skill. Finishing a rather simple stir fry which he placed in front of Noam.

Noam, tried and groaned in pain when he flopped an arm over to grab an eating utensil. Grimm muttered something about ‘kids these days’ before stepping over and holding Noam’s mouth open, pouring the contents of his dish into him.

A loud crack sounded throughout the store.

Almost immediately, Noam’s leg which was bent in several places where it really shouldn’t, violently snapped straight. Soon followed by other loud cracks as every single bone in his body snapped back into the correct position whether he wanted to or not.

Noam let out a gasp as his skeleton was violently restructured back to functionality. He experimentally moved a few fingers, before wincing as he realised he still had his bruises.

“Gah. Thanks,” he said.

“No worries, you made for an excellent flail,” Grimm answered.

Noam grinned, “I aim to please. Where’s the other guy by the way?”

“My nephew?” the elderly orc asked, Noam nodded.

He smiled with pride, “That idiot is convinced that the only way he’ll earn his name is if he defeated chefs of similar skill to me, so I gave him a list and sent him on his way.”

To think his nephew would finally go on a quest to properly earn his name… Grimm would’ve shed a tear if orcs actually had tear ducts.

“Huh, he seemed like an awesome chef, who’s he up against?”

Grimm stared strangely at Noam, before rushing to him and quickly checking him for head injuries.

“Huh?”

“Strange, your head looks perfectly fine,” he muttered, “could it be internal?”

“What do you mean?” Noam muttered as he batted Grimm’s hands off him.

Grimm shook his head, “Just some advice youngling, trolls have an extremely skewed view of cooking. They really believe ‘you are what you eat’ and ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’”

Grimm was of the opinion that food had to be edible, and though nostalgia gave him a rose-tinted view of the past. He had to admit has probably almost died more times to Fon’Dafarr’s cooking than anything he’s actually fought. It was almost a tragedy that Dafarr was a damn good chef. Rivalling him in every manner except for the survival rate of eaters.

“So, who is he up against?”

“I sent him to the Rainbow Chef first.”

“Would it be hard for him?”

Grimm looked at Noam like he were an idiot, “Of course it would be, otherwise he wouldn’t be earning his name.”

The young troll’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cavern. Though ‘cavern’ felt like the wrong word. He was underground, but the huge, hollowed-out space gave the impression of some grand royal hallway. With carvings of mythological battles etched into the stone. An ethereally soft carpet of seven colours led a central pathway to the end of the cavern, where a huge golden door sat.

For one final time, the young troll checked his equipment, before he took a deep, nervous breath and walked forward.

The carpet felt too soft. Too comfortable, as if it were an insult to his tension.

He knew what he was facing here, a chef on par with his uncle, Grimm the Demon Chef. One of only eight in the world.

As he neared the great door, he felt a great rumbling as she began to stir. Her powerful senses likely already caught onto him.

Before he realised, he quickened his pace, but not quick enough.

The grand, pure gold door in front of him cracked open, as a great clawed hand pushed it to the side.

Her scales shone iridescent like the purest crystals, reflecting brilliantly from what sparse light there was. Her heads rose to their max height, each of her necks were each at least fifteen metres long, each of her seven heads their own brilliant colour.

“WHO DARES AWAKEN ME!” Mother of All Chromatic Dragons, Bane of Bahamut, The Dragon Queen, The Nemesis of Gods, The Rainbow Chef, Tiamat, roared.

Despite himself, the young troll could not help but feel utter terror as every one of his senses told him to ‘run the fuck away and live a peaceful life running a restaurant.’

‘But without a name,’ he thought, ‘without the recognition of fada or uncul.’

So he clenched his wildly clattering teeth, before declaring, “I am the son of Fon’Dafarr, nephew to Grimm Ramsey. I come here to earn my name!”

“YOU’VE COME TO DIE!” the seven heads roared. “CHOOSE YOUR METHOD OF DEMISE MORTAL!”

“I will not die today!” he declared to himself more than anyone else, “I have come to beat you, and prove myself the superior chef!”

Tiamat froze, her seven heads spread out, looking at the young troll from every angle.

“Are you serious,” her green head said, her booming voice discarded for a quieter, normal one.

The troll nodded.

The Dragon Queen began to shake, and the cavern with her. The troll staggered as he tried to keep his balance.

It was when the yellow head opened her mouth that the troll realised what she was doing.

Laughing.

“FOOL!” the purple head viciously taunted, “IF YOU HAD SIMPLY COME TO KILL ME, THEN I WOULD’VE GRANTED A SWIFT DEATH!”

“But now,” her yellow head hissed, as her seven heads gathered as one and roared, “I WILL ENJOY BREAKING YOU! TO MAKE YOU ANOTHER TESTAMENT THAT TIAMAT IS A CHEF WITHOUT RIVAL!”

The troll gathered his bearings and through gritted teeth said, “You are certainly not without rival.”

Death.

The troll was dead. He had died. He is dying. He will die.

The purple head stared into his soul and quietly said, “Perhaps, but I have been cooking since your race were banging rocks and flinging mud.”

Together, the heads chuckled, “It seems I will be having troll soup tonight.” Then, Tiamat turned around, her body seemed to ripple as it squeezed into a much smaller, human form.

A tall, regal woman with her hair split with the colours of the rainbow.

The troll followed, barely daring to breathe, but as he entered Tiamat’s sanctum, he finally let out his held breath.

Tiamat was not even the most dangerous chef in the world! The young troll refused to get chicken feet now!

If he could not even beat Tiamat, then what right did he have to a name?

“When I said there was plenty of space inside here, this was not what I meant,” Declan muttered.

“Didn’t I say that?” I absentmindedly asked as I walked to pick up my staff. Historian had long left, expressing a brief moment of interest in my state before he ran off.

“We’re the same person idiot,” he returned.

“So why should we make a distinction?” I questioned as I picked up my staff.

“Odd, were those patterns there before?”

The wood grain around the top of the staff had changed, forming into images of wandering eyes.

“No,” I answered, “ no they weren't.”

Basic Wooden Staff (Stave)

A starting Traveller staff made of a homogenised wood. May act as a focus but provides no outstanding benefit or negative to spell casting.

“Analyse it.”

“Already am,” I replied as I turned it around.

Wooden Staff with Odd Design (Stave)

A starting Traveller staff made of a homogenised wood. May act as a focus but provides no outstanding benefit or negative to spell casting.

Something was clearly changed with it. From knocking the hand of a God or perhaps close proximity with an eye of Observation or perhaps some combination of both? Twelve wooden grain eyes now cover the head of the staff. Merely cosmetic or something different?

“It is different from what my menu is telling me.”

“Either the menu isn’t omnipotent or…”

“The effect is so small it doesn’t think it should be displayed,” I finished. I noticed it previously, how there were tiny quirks about my race that wasn’t explicitly displayed on my character sheet. Stuff like how I felt pain differently or how the world was slightly duller.

“Or both,” Declan suggested, “the fact it isn’t displaying the Priest of the Discovery Shard class supports the first.”

I closed my eyes, “Analyse.”

Dustin Analyse Character Sheet

Name: Dustin

Classes: Traveller Level -, Fungalmancer Level 3, Priest of the Discovery Shard Level 1

Body

Strength: 8

Agility: 7

Dexterity: 6

Constitution: 18

Stamina: 10

Vitality: 12

Mind

Intelligence: 16

Wisdom: 18

Charisma: 6

Soul

Will: 10

Aura: 10

Perception: 10

Racials:

Superior Darkvision, Fungal Body, Sun Sickness, Mana Dependency, Pacifying Spores, Innate Magic

Class Skills:

Traveller: Learn, 'Respawn Ability'

Fungalmancer:

Path: Symbiosis

Grow Sporage (Visual, Proximity), Sporage Wisp Symbiosis, Bracken Polypores

Priest of the Discovery Shard

Path: Analyse

Analyse [Passive]: You passively absorb the information you gather. Learning the exact parameters of that which you observe and translating them to a form understandable to you. This information will exist in a database and could be called on at any time. Observation Link [Passive]: You are linked to a user of Observe. Your minds are linked and they may share all that they see through Observe. Through you, they may also mark other willing creatures to have their vision be seen through Observe as well. Non-Discent [Passive]: This class was not sourced from the system, thus it does not benefit from the system either. Progress in this class does not rely on Traveller XP, but on your own proficiency. You may not invest levels in this class. This class and its progress will not be displayed on your character sheet. Raising this classes' level will not affect your Traveller Level.

Spells:

T0: Balm Spores, Spore Lights, Sneezing Spores, Acid Spit

T1: Mushroom Meal, Poison Spores

T2: Bark Skin

Languages:

Common

Undercommon

Compared to…

Dustin Level 3 Character Sheet

Name: Dustin

Classes: Fungalmancer Level 3

Body

Strength: 8

Agility: 7

Dexterity: 6

Constitution: 18

Stamina: 10

Vitality: 12

Mind

Intelligence: 14

Wisdom: 18

Charisma: 6

Soul

Will: 10

Aura: 10

Perception: 10

Free SP: 2

Racials:

Superior Darkvision, Fungal Body, Sun Sickness, Mana Dependency, Pacifying Spores, Innate Magic

Class Skills:

Fungalmancer:

Path: Symbiosis

Grow Sporage (Visual): You may create a mushroom capable of storing a Spore based spell. These Sporages can be activated on visual contact. They glow faintly and last your myconid level in hours. Grow Sporage (Proximity): Upgrade to Grow Sporage. You obtain the option to grow Sporages with a different activation type. The sporage lets out a thin layer of mycelium around it that acts as a pressure detector. When sufficient weight is applied to any part of the fungus, the Sporage will explode. You and targets of Symbiosis do not detonate these Sporages. Sporage Wisp Symbiosis: Wisps have lived comfortably in your cap and have created a wonderful home there, now to teach them the wonders of rent. You may create pygmy myconid bodies for your non-corporeal Wisps to inhabit. They are considered tiny creatures and are capable of following simple commands. They possess all the qualities of Sporage, however, they can choose to self-detonate. Bracken Polypores: A species of symbiotic fungus are seeded underneath your skin. They rely on you for food and in return can instantly grow into durable mycelium plates that can cover your entire body. The hardness and weight may vary depending on how much Satiety you feed them at any moment. Will gain defensive bonuses if used in conjunction with Bark Skin.

Spells:

T0: Balm Spores, Spore Lights, Sneezing Spores, Acid Spit

T1: Mushroom Meal, Poison Spores

New Available Spell Slots:

T1: 1

T2: 3

Languages:

Common

Undercommon

“And the fact Analyse has ‘Traveller’ as an actual class with skills compared to the menu.”

“Possibly because we see it as something that should be.”

“That is a certainty,” I answered with conviction. Declan me didn’t personally touch the Discovery Shard, the only reason it put Traveller as a class was because I thought it so.

“Go through the other stuff.”

Issue of the Historia (Artefact)

A copy of the Historia, a constantly updating book that keeps a record of the entire world by the hand of the Historian.

All is Writ [Active]: Once per day, you may learn of up to 10 minutes worth of events that occurred in the past and within the immediate vicinity of yourself. The information is near perfectly accurate. Destruction of the Issue or the Historia will interrupt this skill.

“That was a fucking magic item?!”

“Damn,” I muttered, “I would’ve been fine with just this.”

“But not happy. Goddamn, we got lucky.”

“Yeah…”

“I don’t trust it,” he asserted.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“Or is it my mouth?”

“Better not question it.”

“You probably maybe die every time you log off, how could you not?”

“I’m fine with it.”

“Huh,” Declan replied with mock surprise, “same here.”

“Analyse.”

Issue of the Historia (Artefact)

A copy of the Historia, a constantly updating book that keeps record of the entire world by the hand of the Historian.

All the text inside is gibberish. Might be a cipher of some kind but you are not certain.

All is Writ [Active]: Once per day, you may learn of up to 10 minutes worth of events that occurred in the past and within the immediate vicinity of yourself. The information is near perfectly accurate. Destruction of the Issue or the Historia will interrupt this skill.

“Wait a minute.”

“What?”

“Check the next with Analyse first, the information you’re getting from the menu is affecting it.”

“Huh, good catch.”

Magician Tarot Card (Artifact)

A Tarot card displaying the Magician. It represents you, but its meaning escapes you as you haven’t read up on esoterica. What you do know, is that it somehow allows you to gain… ‘stuff’ easier. So long as they are related to the five tools represented within. It is implied this card and the divined fate cannot be avoided unless you destroy the card.

Tools:

Scroll. (Filled): Unknown.

Wand (Filled): Magic.

Lens (Filled): Observation and Analysis. Perhaps the gate as well?

Chalice (Empty): Unfilled, thus variable.

Key (Empty): Unfilled, thus variable.

Magician Tarot Card (Bound Artifact)

One of Twelve Artifacts created by the Diviner Goddess, Misses Fortune. This item is Bound to you and cannot be destroyed or stolen by any other. You will find it in your possession no matter where you lose it.

Analyse quickly updated to include the menu’s description of the card, but didn’t replace any of the original descriptions. This was just the surface level of the ability though.

“We still need more testing.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“Yeah-” Declan froze as realisation dawned on him. “My mouth! How did I not catch that?”

“Cause we’re idiots?”

“Fair.”

Then I respawned.