Chapter 388
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388 288 – I’m Doing What, Now?
“I don’t understand.” I said. “If you’re just trying to reach the Maze of Othello...”
“The Maze of Othello?” asked Uma. “Brother...”
She backhanded him.
“HOW DARE YOU?” she bellowed in the minotaur dialect. “If there is ANYONE at the Maze worthy of being MY husband-slave, then let THEM come to ME!”
“They don’t even know you are out here to claim them!” he bellowed back.
She reached out, grabbed me by an arm, and dangled me between them. “Then SEND a DIPLOMAT!”
She waggled me in the air. “Maybe someone who is a Speaker of Truth. One person crossing a continent can do so faster than any army.”
“No, please don’t.” I said. “Uma, who is stronger, the woman who crosses a continent, or one who sends an envoy?”
“Hrm.” said Rakkal. “If we lock an iron collar around his neck, they would see him as a slave.”
.....
Uma dropped me, triggering all kinds of pain control abilities.
“I am worth more to you than any slave. I am worth more... graack.”
Uma nudged me with her foot. “Speak the truth that you don’t want to.”
I noticed tears rolling from both eyes. “I ... am the best choice I know of for such a duty, if it needs to be done. But this, here, is where I desire to be.”
“Why?” Uma asked. “You are so very terrible as a warrior.”
“Less than I was three years ago.” I said.
“Kallor,” Rakkal said, “How long have you served the Empire?”
“Three years, great one.” replied one of the Uruk. Even outside of his armor, there was an aura about him. There was no mistaking him for anything but one of the elite warriors who had stood with Rakkal and Uma.
“And I see you are a sixth level Axeman?” Rakkal asked. “Among other military classes?”
“Such is the truth, my emperor.” He said, thumping his chest with pride.
“Lazaros, level five Harrier. Aleksos, level four Arminger.” Rakkal said, pointing at each. “Pericles, who is too injured to be here, fifth level Spearman.”
He loomed over me, slowly lowering his finger to touch my nose. “First. Level. Pankratios. The same as three years ago.”
“Not all things are dictated by levels.”
“But some are.” Kallor said. “Can you do Flash Step? Flurry of Blows? Circle of Carnage?”
I sighed. “That is not everything.”
“It is enough. What I need is power. Raw power. Strong abilities, such as come with higher levels. What is your highest level?”
I lowered my head. “It is one, larger brother.”
He turned from me, flinging his hands up. “One.”
“You will, of course, heal up first.” Uma said. “Take time to repair your armor, get a new shield or two. A map, a compass, food. And then, do what is best for the empire.”
“It will take much food.” I said.
Rakkal kept his back toward me, but waved a hand in dismissal. “You eat like a proper warrior, and heal rapidly. Don’t heal faster than you can repair your equipment. And please, try to return in a less embarrassing state from this mission, little brother.”
And that, as they say, was that.
From one exile to another, is what it felt like.
But honestly, what had I expected? “I will go get a start on the day, then.” I said.
“That’s it?” Uma asked. “You will not fight for what you want?”
“I want,” I said, “to serve as Rakkal’s shield. But it is clear to me that I cannot match abilities against a fourth level Arminger.”
“I need no shield.” Rakkal said, not even turning. “I need warriors. Power. Strength. Resolve. Go. Gain those things, or at least return with a suitable harem for Uma.”
“Possibly both.” Uma said. She slapped on my shoulders like she was trying to pound me into the ground. “Look at it this way. Crossing cyclops land will make you stronger.”
But it wasn’t a matter of being strong. I had a Might of five, a Strength and a Health of six. By raw statistics, I was the equal of any champion... in those areas.
Sixteen classes, now, and not a single one past level one.
[Shaman, level one. 185/300 XP toward level two.]
Let’s see.... 85 times thirteen... I made marks in the dirt with my toes. Good gods, it was more than my one thousand point break-through. Enough to be fourth level. Not to have all the abilities at that level, but still...
I imagined what that Rhishisikk might have been like, proud and strong, certainly enough so to protect his comrades. As a fourth level Psychologist, how could I not have known how Narces and Gamilla felt, perhaps done something to make their lives better?
A fourth level Industrialist had abilities rivaling that of a Supply Sergeant in raw logistical ability.
As a fourth or fifth level anything, with access to abilities that cost up to one hundred development points...
Wait. That didn’t add up.
Even without my divisor, I’d barely be third level, just barely enough for Flash Step. And that would be if I ignored other tempting abilities, like Disarming Strike and Thrill of the Crowd. Okay, at least like Disarming Strike.
Well, my Hunter abilities were well suited to dangerous wilderness. Detect Beasts, Slayer of Beasts, and Wild Dance... I didn’t know many animals that could challenge that. Sentient creatures, though...
The elves hadn’t exactly been friendly before I had failed to slay Rakkal. How would they regard me now, servant of the Empire for three years?
I mean, it wasn’t as if I could go around...
Except that yes, I could do exactly that. It was actually faster to head back into the Empire, journey south to the new port town, and just swim around the shore of the continent. Light armor, so as not to impede my ability to swim, a spear or trident...
No elves, no cyclopses, just... what WAS to the west of the Mines of Othello? Was that Alpin territory? Bearfolk? I had heard rumors of some manner of Norvik colony that went missing in that area. Or had it been an Alpin colony?
Perhaps an Alpin colony, destroyed by Bearmen? That didn’t sound quite exactly right, though.
And oh, crap! Who the heck was I going to declare a quest of vengeance upon if I didn’t even know who was nearby?
What had possessed me, to promise Sobek eight years? The trio of deities twenty four years total? It just made everything so much more complicated. And... maybe this was Sobek being lenient. I know that more was expected from actual Oracles and Priests.
Or...
Did Sobek also think of me as some useless or disposable peon? Something useless, to do little trash tasks. Build a shrine? Then, a few months later, find a bunch of vengeance quests? Personally, I’d think it should have been the other way around,
But then... I wasn’t a god, and that still seems a lofty and near impossible goal.
At least nobody else would die. No team, nobody’s life at risk but my own.
Why was that even important? Because of how many people had gotten killed around me before?
But that night, the trek to the fort seemed so far away. I considered just circling around the tent, falling asleep near where I’d heard the snoring the night before, or going back to the tent where I’d woken up. The day was barely started, and already I was ready to be done with it.
Mats woven from long plains grass could serve as padding, and nobody stopped me from lugging them around. Centaurs had means of navigation other than compasses, and had a memory such that they didn’t often need maps.
Don’t ask me. Horses are hay brains, humans don’t have that advantage. I knew it wasn’t anything in their genes. It seems to be something learned, but I hadn’t experienced any such training when growing up alongside the youth of Clan Cloverhoof. It seems like something one would learn young, rather than later in life.
Uruk, on the other hand, loved maps. It was like artwork to them, although it tended to become a creative art form beyond the bounds of where they had been in person. There was a thin wooded strip to the west of the Othello, labeled as the Woods of Warbler.
Whatever or whomever Warbler was. The missing colony was Warburg, and it had been Malosian. Too far north, and the woods had spider webs in the trees. Too early, and there were short humanoid figures. Goblins? Gnomes?
I hoped the former. Gnomes were... well, I didn’t know what gnomes were, but I was sure I didn’t want to find out. One hears rumors, and those rumors were from centaurs, which to me gave them credibility. But the truth was that I just didn’t know.
How could they be worse than any other people I’d met? Not that it was a challenge to the universe, I knew better than to issue one of those.
And sometimes, the universe just doesn’t need a challenge like that to respond as though you’d issued it.
You see, centaurs don’t have only the Sagitarii, it’s just what their ideal is, the bulk of their military troops. They also have rangers, people who are stealthy and skilled with bows.
Getting into a fortress after the night shift got nearly annihilated?
Accursed Charisma skills!
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388 288 – I’m Doing What, Now?
“I don’t understand.” I said. “If you’re just trying to reach the Maze of Othello...”
“The Maze of Othello?” asked Uma. “Brother...”
She backhanded him.
“HOW DARE YOU?” she bellowed in the minotaur dialect. “If there is ANYONE at the Maze worthy of being MY husband-slave, then let THEM come to ME!”
“They don’t even know you are out here to claim them!” he bellowed back.
She reached out, grabbed me by an arm, and dangled me between them. “Then SEND a DIPLOMAT!”
She waggled me in the air. “Maybe someone who is a Speaker of Truth. One person crossing a continent can do so faster than any army.”
“No, please don’t.” I said. “Uma, who is stronger, the woman who crosses a continent, or one who sends an envoy?”
“Hrm.” said Rakkal. “If we lock an iron collar around his neck, they would see him as a slave.”
.....
Uma dropped me, triggering all kinds of pain control abilities.
“I am worth more to you than any slave. I am worth more... graack.”
Uma nudged me with her foot. “Speak the truth that you don’t want to.”
I noticed tears rolling from both eyes. “I ... am the best choice I know of for such a duty, if it needs to be done. But this, here, is where I desire to be.”
“Why?” Uma asked. “You are so very terrible as a warrior.”
“Less than I was three years ago.” I said.
“Kallor,” Rakkal said, “How long have you served the Empire?”
“Three years, great one.” replied one of the Uruk. Even outside of his armor, there was an aura about him. There was no mistaking him for anything but one of the elite warriors who had stood with Rakkal and Uma.
“And I see you are a sixth level Axeman?” Rakkal asked. “Among other military classes?”
“Such is the truth, my emperor.” He said, thumping his chest with pride.
“Lazaros, level five Harrier. Aleksos, level four Arminger.” Rakkal said, pointing at each. “Pericles, who is too injured to be here, fifth level Spearman.”
He loomed over me, slowly lowering his finger to touch my nose. “First. Level. Pankratios. The same as three years ago.”
“Not all things are dictated by levels.”
“But some are.” Kallor said. “Can you do Flash Step? Flurry of Blows? Circle of Carnage?”
I sighed. “That is not everything.”
“It is enough. What I need is power. Raw power. Strong abilities, such as come with higher levels. What is your highest level?”
I lowered my head. “It is one, larger brother.”
He turned from me, flinging his hands up. “One.”
“You will, of course, heal up first.” Uma said. “Take time to repair your armor, get a new shield or two. A map, a compass, food. And then, do what is best for the empire.”
“It will take much food.” I said.
Rakkal kept his back toward me, but waved a hand in dismissal. “You eat like a proper warrior, and heal rapidly. Don’t heal faster than you can repair your equipment. And please, try to return in a less embarrassing state from this mission, little brother.”
And that, as they say, was that.
From one exile to another, is what it felt like.
But honestly, what had I expected? “I will go get a start on the day, then.” I said.
“That’s it?” Uma asked. “You will not fight for what you want?”
“I want,” I said, “to serve as Rakkal’s shield. But it is clear to me that I cannot match abilities against a fourth level Arminger.”
“I need no shield.” Rakkal said, not even turning. “I need warriors. Power. Strength. Resolve. Go. Gain those things, or at least return with a suitable harem for Uma.”
“Possibly both.” Uma said. She slapped on my shoulders like she was trying to pound me into the ground. “Look at it this way. Crossing cyclops land will make you stronger.”
But it wasn’t a matter of being strong. I had a Might of five, a Strength and a Health of six. By raw statistics, I was the equal of any champion... in those areas.
Sixteen classes, now, and not a single one past level one.
[Shaman, level one. 185/300 XP toward level two.]
Let’s see.... 85 times thirteen... I made marks in the dirt with my toes. Good gods, it was more than my one thousand point break-through. Enough to be fourth level. Not to have all the abilities at that level, but still...
I imagined what that Rhishisikk might have been like, proud and strong, certainly enough so to protect his comrades. As a fourth level Psychologist, how could I not have known how Narces and Gamilla felt, perhaps done something to make their lives better?
A fourth level Industrialist had abilities rivaling that of a Supply Sergeant in raw logistical ability.
As a fourth or fifth level anything, with access to abilities that cost up to one hundred development points...
Wait. That didn’t add up.
Even without my divisor, I’d barely be third level, just barely enough for Flash Step. And that would be if I ignored other tempting abilities, like Disarming Strike and Thrill of the Crowd. Okay, at least like Disarming Strike.
Well, my Hunter abilities were well suited to dangerous wilderness. Detect Beasts, Slayer of Beasts, and Wild Dance... I didn’t know many animals that could challenge that. Sentient creatures, though...
The elves hadn’t exactly been friendly before I had failed to slay Rakkal. How would they regard me now, servant of the Empire for three years?
I mean, it wasn’t as if I could go around...
Except that yes, I could do exactly that. It was actually faster to head back into the Empire, journey south to the new port town, and just swim around the shore of the continent. Light armor, so as not to impede my ability to swim, a spear or trident...
No elves, no cyclopses, just... what WAS to the west of the Mines of Othello? Was that Alpin territory? Bearfolk? I had heard rumors of some manner of Norvik colony that went missing in that area. Or had it been an Alpin colony?
Perhaps an Alpin colony, destroyed by Bearmen? That didn’t sound quite exactly right, though.
And oh, crap! Who the heck was I going to declare a quest of vengeance upon if I didn’t even know who was nearby?
What had possessed me, to promise Sobek eight years? The trio of deities twenty four years total? It just made everything so much more complicated. And... maybe this was Sobek being lenient. I know that more was expected from actual Oracles and Priests.
Or...
Did Sobek also think of me as some useless or disposable peon? Something useless, to do little trash tasks. Build a shrine? Then, a few months later, find a bunch of vengeance quests? Personally, I’d think it should have been the other way around,
But then... I wasn’t a god, and that still seems a lofty and near impossible goal.
At least nobody else would die. No team, nobody’s life at risk but my own.
Why was that even important? Because of how many people had gotten killed around me before?
But that night, the trek to the fort seemed so far away. I considered just circling around the tent, falling asleep near where I’d heard the snoring the night before, or going back to the tent where I’d woken up. The day was barely started, and already I was ready to be done with it.
Mats woven from long plains grass could serve as padding, and nobody stopped me from lugging them around. Centaurs had means of navigation other than compasses, and had a memory such that they didn’t often need maps.
Don’t ask me. Horses are hay brains, humans don’t have that advantage. I knew it wasn’t anything in their genes. It seems to be something learned, but I hadn’t experienced any such training when growing up alongside the youth of Clan Cloverhoof. It seems like something one would learn young, rather than later in life.
Uruk, on the other hand, loved maps. It was like artwork to them, although it tended to become a creative art form beyond the bounds of where they had been in person. There was a thin wooded strip to the west of the Othello, labeled as the Woods of Warbler.
Whatever or whomever Warbler was. The missing colony was Warburg, and it had been Malosian. Too far north, and the woods had spider webs in the trees. Too early, and there were short humanoid figures. Goblins? Gnomes?
I hoped the former. Gnomes were... well, I didn’t know what gnomes were, but I was sure I didn’t want to find out. One hears rumors, and those rumors were from centaurs, which to me gave them credibility. But the truth was that I just didn’t know.
How could they be worse than any other people I’d met? Not that it was a challenge to the universe, I knew better than to issue one of those.
And sometimes, the universe just doesn’t need a challenge like that to respond as though you’d issued it.
You see, centaurs don’t have only the Sagitarii, it’s just what their ideal is, the bulk of their military troops. They also have rangers, people who are stealthy and skilled with bows.
Getting into a fortress after the night shift got nearly annihilated?
Accursed Charisma skills!
388 288 I'm Doing What, Now?I don't understand. I said. If you're just trying to reach the Maze of Othello...The Maze of Othello? asked Uma. Brother...She backhanded him.HOW DARE YOU? she bellowed in the minotaur dialect. If there is ANYONE at the Maze worthy of being MY husband-slave, then let THEM come to ME!They don't even know you are out here to claim them! he bellowed back.She reached out, grabbed me by an arm, and dangled me between them. Then SEND a DIPLOMAT!She waggled me in the air. Maybe someone who is a Speaker of Truth. One person crossing a continent can do so faster than any army.No, please don't. I said. Uma, who is stronger, the woman who crosses a continent, or one who sends an envoy?Hrm. said Rakkal. If we lock an iron collar around his neck, they would see him as a slave......Uma dropped me, triggering all kinds of pain control abilities.I am worth more to you than any slave. I am worth more... graack.Uma nudged me with her foot. Speak the truth that you don't want to.I noticed tears rolling from both eyes. I ... am the best choice I know of for such a duty, if it needs to be done. But this, here, is where I desire to be. Why? Uma asked. You are so very terrible as a warrior.Less than I was three years ago. I said.Kallor, Rakkal said, How long have you served the Empire?Three years, great one. replied one of the Uruk. Even outside of his armor, there was an aura about him. There was no mistaking him for anything but one of the elite warriors who had stood with Rakkal and Uma.And I see you are a sixth level Axeman? Rakkal asked. Among other military classes?Such is the truth, my emperor. He said, thumping his chest with pride.Lazaros, level five Harrier. Aleksos, level four Arminger. Rakkal said, pointing at each. Pericles, who is too injured to be here, fifth level Spearman.He loomed over me, slowly lowering his finger to touch my nose. First. Level. Pankratios. The same as three years ago.Not all things are dictated by levels.But some are. Kallor said. Can you do Flash Step? Flurry of Blows? Circle of Carnage?I sighed. That is not everything.It is enough. What I need is power. Raw power. Strong abilities, such as come with higher levels. What is your highest level?I lowered my head. It is one, larger brother.He turned from me, flinging his hands up. One.You will, of course, heal up first. Uma said. Take time to repair your armor, get a new shield or two. A map, a compass, food. And then, do what is best for the empire.It will take much food. I said.Rakkal kept his back toward me, but waved a hand in dismissal. You eat like a proper warrior, and heal rapidly. Don't heal faster than you can repair your equipment. And please, try to return in a less embarrassing state from this mission, little brother.And that, as they say, was that.From one exile to another, is what it felt like.But honestly, what had I expected? I will go get a start on the day, then. I said.That's it? Uma asked. You will not fight for what you want?I want, I said, to serve as Rakkal's shield. But it is clear to me that I cannot match abilities against a fourth level Arminger.I need no shield. Rakkal said, not even turning. I need warriors. Power. Strength. Resolve. Go. Gain those things, or at least return with a suitable harem for Uma.Possibly both. Uma said. She slapped on my shoulders like she was trying to pound me into the ground. Look at it this way. Crossing cyclops land will make you stronger.But it wasn't a matter of being strong. I had a Might of five, a Strength and a Health of six. By raw statistics, I was the equal of any champion... in those areas.Sixteen classes, now, and not a single one past level one.Shaman, level one. 185/300 XP toward level two.Let's see.... 85 times thirteen... I made marks in the dirt with my toes. Good gods, it was more than my one thousand point break-through. Enough to be fourth level. Not to have all the abilities at that level, but still...I imagined what that Rhishisikk might have been like, proud and strong, certainly enough so to protect his comrades. As a fourth level Psychologist, how could I not have known how Narces and Gamilla felt, perhaps done something to make their lives better?A fourth level Industrialist had abilities rivaling that of a Supply Sergeant in raw logistical ability.As a fourth or fifth level anything, with access to abilities that cost up to one hundred development points...Wait. That didn't add up.Even without my divisor, I'd barely be third level, just barely enough for Flash Step. And that would be if I ignored other tempting abilities, like Disarming Strike and Thrill of the Crowd. Okay, at least like Disarming Strike.Well, my Hunter abilities were well suited to dangerous wilderness. Detect Beasts, Slayer of Beasts, and Wild Dance... I didn't know many animals that could challenge that. Sentient creatures, though...The elves hadn't exactly been friendly before I had failed to slay Rakkal. How would they regard me now, servant of the Empire for three years?I mean, it wasn't as if I could go around...Except that yes, I could do exactly that. It was actually faster to head back into the Empire, journey south to the new port town, and just swim around the shore of the continent. Light armor, so as not to impede my ability to swim, a spear or trident...No elves, no cyclopses, just... what WAS to the west of the Mines of Othello? Was that Alpin territory? Bearfolk? I had heard rumors of some manner of Norvik colony that went missing in that area. Or had it been an Alpin colony?Perhaps an Alpin colony, destroyed by Bearmen? That didn't sound quite exactly right, though.And oh, crap! Who the heck was I going to declare a quest of vengeance upon if I didn't even know who was nearby?What had possessed me, to promise Sobek eight years? The trio of deities twenty four years total? It just made everything so much more complicated. And... maybe this was Sobek being lenient. I know that more was expected from actual Oracles and Priests.Or...Did Sobek also think of me as some useless or disposable peon? Something useless, to do little trash tasks. Build a shrine? Then, a few months later, find a bunch of vengeance quests? Personally, I'd think it should have been the other way around,But then... I wasn't a god, and that still seems a lofty and near impossible goal.At least nobody else would die. No team, nobody's life at risk but my own.Why was that even important? Because of how many people had gotten killed around me before?But that night, the trek to the fort seemed so far away. I considered just circling around the tent, falling asleep near where I'd heard the snoring the night before, or going back to the tent where I'd woken up. The day was barely started, and already I was ready to be done with it.Mats woven from long plains grass could serve as padding, and nobody stopped me from lugging them around. Centaurs had means of navigation other than compasses, and had a memory such that they didn't often need maps.Don't ask me. Horses are hay brains, humans don't have that advantage. I knew it wasn't anything in their genes. It seems to be something learned, but I hadn't experienced any such training when growing up alongside the youth of Clan Cloverhoof. It seems like something one would learn young, rather than later in life.Uruk, on the other hand, loved maps. It was like artwork to them, although it tended to become a creative art form beyond the bounds of where they had been in person. There was a thin wooded strip to the west of the Othello, labeled as the Woods of Warbler.Whatever or whomever Warbler was. The missing colony was Warburg, and it had been Malosian. Too far north, and the woods had spider webs in the trees. Too early, and there were short humanoid figures. Goblins? Gnomes?I hoped the former. Gnomes were... well, I didn't know what gnomes were, but I was sure I didn't want to find out. One hears rumors, and those rumors were from centaurs, which to me gave them credibility. But the truth was that I just didn't know.How could they be worse than any other people I'd met? Not that it was a challenge to the universe, I knew better than to issue one of those.And sometimes, the universe just doesn't need a challenge like that to respond as though you'd issued it.You see, centaurs don't have only the Sagitarii, it's just what their ideal is, the bulk of their military troops. They also have rangers, people who are stealthy and skilled with bows.Getting into a fortress after the night shift got nearly annihilated?Accursed Charisma skills!
