Before Wolf managed to regain his senses he found himself sitting in a junk filled alley. His back was pressed against a building, while its identical counterpart stood so close that Wolf’s tiny legs could just barely reach it. These buildings, which looked like slightly bigger versions of the village elder’s house, loomed over him ominously. They somehow pressed down on his soul, hiding the sun and keeping him in darkness.
Junk was strewn all around Wolf. His empty stomach growled, but there was nothing edible. Animal bones, parts of broken pots and feces were everywhere. Wolf felt disgusted with his surroundings as he tried to figure out what was going on. A moment later he understood that he had just dreamed the weirdest of dreams.
In his dream Wolf worked as a villain’s apprentice. Learning magic, necromancy in particular. Laughable really. Wolf was nothing more than a little beggar, all alone in this huge world. As far as he could remember he had lived on the streets, eating junk and filth. He only dared leave this alley at night. Then he would dig through other people’s trash searching for food. The boy’s days flashed by as he foraged not in forests, but in the filth and refuse of civilization. That was normal. Wolf too was refuse. All he ever did was cling to this miserable life of his.
On one of those endless, monotone days Wolf saw another starving beggar. For some reason that the hungry boy couldn’t quite fathom, he took pity on the man and shared some of his meager, disgusting food with him.
Who would’ve thought that the man was actually a famous Alchemist! He had reached a bottleneck in his art of Alchemy and tried to solve it in various ways. Eventually he decided just to stop thinking about it, go out into the world and empty his mind as he pretended to be a beggar. After finding out about Wolf’s circumstance the man decided to adopt him and take him in as an apprentice. The story was so shabby and half-assed that anyone observing from outside would know that it wasn’t real in a heartbeat. Dreams often tended to be like that.
Wolf and the elderly man spent several months together in the alley, before the alchemist took Wolf back home. This nameless, faceless Alchemist tried to instruct Wolf in the ways of Alchemy, but failed utterly. Wolf’s talent was so bad that regular Alchemists would avoid him, fearing that they would catch whatever curse he was under.
However, for some reason, the old Alchemist had achieved his breakthrough after trying to teach Wolf how to use herbs to concoct the most basic elixir for the thirty-seventh time. Wolf did his best, but the theory of Alchemy was pure nonsense as far as he was concerned. No matter how much he tried, Wolf couldn’t make heads or tails of that branch of science. Not just that, all of it would go in one ear and out the other.
As for the practical aspect… There’s no telling how many ruined vessels and wasted materials were left behind Wolf’s attempts at Alchemy. Wolf’s master described his disciple’s practical ability with one word… abysmal.
Whichever potion Wolf tried to concoct, he would end with a poison or some kind of muddy water. It was infuriating. Wolf followed the recipe to the T. He did everything exactly the same way as his master. And yet, what became a divine tonic after his master’s hands, turned into a vile poison when Wolf gave it a go!
Wolf spent years of his life in frustration as he toiled away in the laboratory. Unexpectedly, the youth discovered that he had a talent for cooking, which was as great as his talent for alchemy was abysmal. One day, when Wolf was nineteen years old, his master was summoned by the imperial family. They had come across some ancient hermit’s life’s work and they needed Wolf’s master to decipher some of the secrets related to Alchemy.
Wolf’s master was gone for several months. Once a week he would send Wolf a letter, telling him that he was doing fine and that he was fascinated with his research. Then, all of a sudden, the man was accused of treason and summarily executed.
When Wolf got the news he went insane with grief. Wolf lived for revenge over thirty years, turning the lush lands of the Empire of Human into a hell-scape of poison and decay. The human race was decimated in the decades of guerrilla warfare. Finally the Empire of Elf sent a punitive force which, along with Mages belonging to the Empire of Human, finally put him down.
Wolf opened his eyes, feeling dizzy inside the familiar shallow nook. His mother spoke those words once again, drawing him into yet another dreamscape.
This time Wolf was growing up as a Legacy Disciple of a famous Sword-sage. The man had found him when he was just a baby and raised him as his own son. Other than Wolf, the Sword-sage had one more disciple that lived with them.
Wolf spent a decade living with this faceless man. His master was strict and impartial. He treated both his disciples fairly. But in a cold and distant fashion. Wolf could learn little about personal relationships from the man, but he was a great swordsman. Over the ten year period Wolf’s finesse with the sword grew by the day.
One fateful day, a month after Wolf had turned seventeen, he found his master laying on his bed, covered in blood. When the young man got closer he saw a gaping wound on his master’s chest. He ran around the estate, but failed to find his fellow apprentice. As he ransacked the building Wolf found that all of his master’s possessions were gone.
Apparently Wolf’s master was murdered and robbed. The youth spent years trying to find out what happened, only to catch wind of a hero wielding his master’s sword and using his techniques. After spending long months to track down the source of those rumors Wolf finally met him. His fellow apprentice wielded their master’s blade and used his peerless techniques to become famous.
After confronting him, the man admitted to his crime. After a fierce battle former brothers met their ends to each other’s blade.
Lifetime after lifetime flickered before Wolf’s eyes. He was a Paladin’s shield bearer, a Beast Tamer’s stable boy, a disciple in the Assassin’s guild, an apprentice of a Spell Formation Master... Profession after profession, lifetime after lifetime the cycle went on and on seemingly without end.
Some lifetimes Wolf started as a rich kid, some as a beggar, some as a peasant. The starting points might have been different, but he would end up chosen by a master of some craft or art while young. Then that master would raise him under various circumstances, but he would always be treated fairly.
Some of the stories were unique, while others were just blatant copies of the lives he had experienced previously. They would simply have Wolf live his life as a student of a master of a different profession. The only thing in common in all these lives was that Wolf’s mentor died a violent death, in a just or unjust manner. Every time his mentor died Wolf sought revenge at the cost of his life. Each of Wolf’s deaths was while seeking justice for his mentor and benefactor.
Finally, after an unknown number of years and lives, the cycle reached its grand finale. Wolf was now an Artificer’s apprentice. He’s been at it for almost a decade and Wolf was already fourteen years old now.
“I can’t believe you can’t even put together a wooden crate! I gave you everything you needed. It’s not even magical gear, but something a common laborer can do if you give him a couple of planks and some nails…” Wolf’s master shook his head helplessly, but he was amazed rather than angry. It takes a special kind of talent not to know how to hammer in a bunch of nails.
Wolf was his late sister’s kid he had taken in eight years ago after the woman had passed. He wasted five years trying to teach him about artificing, which was a family trade for several generations now. Unfortunately Wolf completely lacked talent for it. Luckily the boy knew how to read, write and do math, so Wolf’s job was to take care of the ledger and keep track of various raw goods the shop had. He had a surprisingly good head for accounting even though nobody taught him anything regarding math or letters.
It wasn’t just that. Wolf had plenty other talents such as handling animals, knowing how to hunt, wield a sword, spear, bow and even an axe. If this man was a real person, instead of being a part of a dream, he would have wondered how a small child knew so many different things without anyone ever taking the time to teach him. However, since he was just a part of the dream, the man took it for granted and never pointed it out to Wolf.
One day, when Wolf was already nineteen, his uncle and all of his disciples were summoned to construct a royal tomb for the Human Emperor. Well, the ones that were worth something were invited. Wolf and one other small boy were left behind to take care of the shop.
Wolf’s face was buried between a pair of impressive breasts. His fingers were toying with their peaks pinching and ticking and squeezing. His faceless playmate had followed him through a number of dreamscapes and Wolf was already used to her on a subconscious level. Wolf’s uncle’s youngest disciple barged into the room while Wolf was busy making his playmate moan.
The boy delivered the news of the tragedy that had happened before an imperial guard ran him through with a sword. Literally caught with his pants down, Wolf burned the guards to death with magic before making his escape.
In his vengeance Wolf was a demon. With the accumulation of knowledge and skills from his previous lives he was practically unstoppable. Even though he had an uncanny talent with poisons, Wolf had never discovered it in this lifetime. But even then, simply by wielding weapons, slinging spells and setting up traps with Spell Formations Wolf was like a one man army. At the cost of his life he toppled the imperial family that slaughtered his uncle and the craftsmen that knew their secrets. The last sight Wolf saw before the world faded to blackness was the ruins of the royal’s castle, which had the appearance of a humongous house of the Muddy River’s village elder.
Just like all his other lives this one also had a bloody end.
“It’s easy to be virtuous when times favor you. It is easy to praise a god that sends you nothing but blessings. It is easy to be filial before a master when all you know is light and sunshine. How will you act when good times abandon you? Will you curse your god when they send nothing but hardship? How do you treat your honored master when they are in need of shelter as the sky falls and demons reign?”
The familiar words echoed in the darkness, however there was a change this time. Wolf could clearly recall all of the things he had experienced in the various dreamscapes. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. Surprisingly, Wolf was sitting in a comfortable chair, inside a well lit chamber. The room was neither big nor small, but it had a very cozy feel. Which was really odd, since the room was empty save for a fireplace that was obscured by a massive armchair… The only thing Wolf could see in the empty room was the back of an armchair. So, why did it feel cozy?
Wolf was about to get up when an ancient male voice sounded from the armchair.
“Stubborn as a mule, but principled and loyal. Premium talent for cooking, magic, academics, swordsmanship, scribing Spell Formations, Soul Refining and Energy Refining.” The man paused, seemingly impressed by the list. Then he continued, as if reading a record.
“Passable talent in fields of botany, rune smithing, hunting and beast taming. Most of the others are average, with only two exceptions. You’re a horrendous Artificer and an ideal Alchemist to work for anyone I want dead...”
The last part was followed by a warm, hearty chuckle. It seemed out of place, considering the way the ancient voice sounded.
sleepydad88 Archibald's lessons:
Due to the sheer magnitude of the world, days on Masterpiece are longer than on Earth. The cycle of night and day takes thirty-six hours. Meaning two years on Masterpiece are roughly three years on Earth.
Before Wolf managed to regain his senses he found himself sitting in a junk filled alley. His back was pressed against a building, while its identical counterpart stood so close that Wolf’s tiny legs could just barely reach it. These buildings, which looked like slightly bigger versions of the village elder’s house, loomed over him ominously. They somehow pressed down on his soul, hiding the sun and keeping him in darkness.
Junk was strewn all around Wolf. His empty stomach growled, but there was nothing edible. Animal bones, parts of broken pots and feces were everywhere. Wolf felt disgusted with his surroundings as he tried to figure out what was going on. A moment later he understood that he had just dreamed the weirdest of dreams.
In his dream Wolf worked as a villain’s apprentice. Learning magic, necromancy in particular. Laughable really. Wolf was nothing more than a little beggar, all alone in this huge world. As far as he could remember he had lived on the streets, eating junk and filth. He only dared leave this alley at night. Then he would dig through other people’s trash searching for food. The boy’s days flashed by as he foraged not in forests, but in the filth and refuse of civilization. That was normal. Wolf too was refuse. All he ever did was cling to this miserable life of his.
On one of those endless, monotone days Wolf saw another starving beggar. For some reason that the hungry boy couldn’t quite fathom, he took pity on the man and shared some of his meager, disgusting food with him.
Who would’ve thought that the man was actually a famous Alchemist! He had reached a bottleneck in his art of Alchemy and tried to solve it in various ways. Eventually he decided just to stop thinking about it, go out into the world and empty his mind as he pretended to be a beggar. After finding out about Wolf’s circumstance the man decided to adopt him and take him in as an apprentice. The story was so shabby and half-assed that anyone observing from outside would know that it wasn’t real in a heartbeat. Dreams often tended to be like that.
Wolf and the elderly man spent several months together in the alley, before the alchemist took Wolf back home. This nameless, faceless Alchemist tried to instruct Wolf in the ways of Alchemy, but failed utterly. Wolf’s talent was so bad that regular Alchemists would avoid him, fearing that they would catch whatever curse he was under.
However, for some reason, the old Alchemist had achieved his breakthrough after trying to teach Wolf how to use herbs to concoct the most basic elixir for the thirty-seventh time. Wolf did his best, but the theory of Alchemy was pure nonsense as far as he was concerned. No matter how much he tried, Wolf couldn’t make heads or tails of that branch of science. Not just that, all of it would go in one ear and out the other.
As for the practical aspect… There’s no telling how many ruined vessels and wasted materials were left behind Wolf’s attempts at Alchemy. Wolf’s master described his disciple’s practical ability with one word… abysmal.
Whichever potion Wolf tried to concoct, he would end with a poison or some kind of muddy water. It was infuriating. Wolf followed the recipe to the T. He did everything exactly the same way as his master. And yet, what became a divine tonic after his master’s hands, turned into a vile poison when Wolf gave it a go!
Wolf spent years of his life in frustration as he toiled away in the laboratory. Unexpectedly, the youth discovered that he had a talent for cooking, which was as great as his talent for alchemy was abysmal. One day, when Wolf was nineteen years old, his master was summoned by the imperial family. They had come across some ancient hermit’s life’s work and they needed Wolf’s master to decipher some of the secrets related to Alchemy.
Wolf’s master was gone for several months. Once a week he would send Wolf a letter, telling him that he was doing fine and that he was fascinated with his research. Then, all of a sudden, the man was accused of treason and summarily executed.
When Wolf got the news he went insane with grief. Wolf lived for revenge over thirty years, turning the lush lands of the Empire of Human into a hell-scape of poison and decay. The human race was decimated in the decades of guerrilla warfare. Finally the Empire of Elf sent a punitive force which, along with Mages belonging to the Empire of Human, finally put him down.
Wolf opened his eyes, feeling dizzy inside the familiar shallow nook. His mother spoke those words once again, drawing him into yet another dreamscape.
This time Wolf was growing up as a Legacy Disciple of a famous Sword-sage. The man had found him when he was just a baby and raised him as his own son. Other than Wolf, the Sword-sage had one more disciple that lived with them.
Wolf spent a decade living with this faceless man. His master was strict and impartial. He treated both his disciples fairly. But in a cold and distant fashion. Wolf could learn little about personal relationships from the man, but he was a great swordsman. Over the ten year period Wolf’s finesse with the sword grew by the day.
One fateful day, a month after Wolf had turned seventeen, he found his master laying on his bed, covered in blood. When the young man got closer he saw a gaping wound on his master’s chest. He ran around the estate, but failed to find his fellow apprentice. As he ransacked the building Wolf found that all of his master’s possessions were gone.
Apparently Wolf’s master was murdered and robbed. The youth spent years trying to find out what happened, only to catch wind of a hero wielding his master’s sword and using his techniques. After spending long months to track down the source of those rumors Wolf finally met him. His fellow apprentice wielded their master’s blade and used his peerless techniques to become famous.
After confronting him, the man admitted to his crime. After a fierce battle former brothers met their ends to each other’s blade.
Lifetime after lifetime flickered before Wolf’s eyes. He was a Paladin’s shield bearer, a Beast Tamer’s stable boy, a disciple in the Assassin’s guild, an apprentice of a Spell Formation Master... Profession after profession, lifetime after lifetime the cycle went on and on seemingly without end.
Some lifetimes Wolf started as a rich kid, some as a beggar, some as a peasant. The starting points might have been different, but he would end up chosen by a master of some craft or art while young. Then that master would raise him under various circumstances, but he would always be treated fairly.
Some of the stories were unique, while others were just blatant copies of the lives he had experienced previously. They would simply have Wolf live his life as a student of a master of a different profession. The only thing in common in all these lives was that Wolf’s mentor died a violent death, in a just or unjust manner. Every time his mentor died Wolf sought revenge at the cost of his life. Each of Wolf’s deaths was while seeking justice for his mentor and benefactor.
Finally, after an unknown number of years and lives, the cycle reached its grand finale. Wolf was now an Artificer’s apprentice. He’s been at it for almost a decade and Wolf was already fourteen years old now.
“I can’t believe you can’t even put together a wooden crate! I gave you everything you needed. It’s not even magical gear, but something a common laborer can do if you give him a couple of planks and some nails…” Wolf’s master shook his head helplessly, but he was amazed rather than angry. It takes a special kind of talent not to know how to hammer in a bunch of nails.
Wolf was his late sister’s kid he had taken in eight years ago after the woman had passed. He wasted five years trying to teach him about artificing, which was a family trade for several generations now. Unfortunately Wolf completely lacked talent for it. Luckily the boy knew how to read, write and do math, so Wolf’s job was to take care of the ledger and keep track of various raw goods the shop had. He had a surprisingly good head for accounting even though nobody taught him anything regarding math or letters.
It wasn’t just that. Wolf had plenty other talents such as handling animals, knowing how to hunt, wield a sword, spear, bow and even an axe. If this man was a real person, instead of being a part of a dream, he would have wondered how a small child knew so many different things without anyone ever taking the time to teach him. However, since he was just a part of the dream, the man took it for granted and never pointed it out to Wolf.
One day, when Wolf was already nineteen, his uncle and all of his disciples were summoned to construct a royal tomb for the Human Emperor. Well, the ones that were worth something were invited. Wolf and one other small boy were left behind to take care of the shop.
Wolf’s face was buried between a pair of impressive breasts. His fingers were toying with their peaks pinching and ticking and squeezing. His faceless playmate had followed him through a number of dreamscapes and Wolf was already used to her on a subconscious level. Wolf’s uncle’s youngest disciple barged into the room while Wolf was busy making his playmate moan.
The boy delivered the news of the tragedy that had happened before an imperial guard ran him through with a sword. Literally caught with his pants down, Wolf burned the guards to death with magic before making his escape.
In his vengeance Wolf was a demon. With the accumulation of knowledge and skills from his previous lives he was practically unstoppable. Even though he had an uncanny talent with poisons, Wolf had never discovered it in this lifetime. But even then, simply by wielding weapons, slinging spells and setting up traps with Spell Formations Wolf was like a one man army. At the cost of his life he toppled the imperial family that slaughtered his uncle and the craftsmen that knew their secrets. The last sight Wolf saw before the world faded to blackness was the ruins of the royal’s castle, which had the appearance of a humongous house of the Muddy River’s village elder.
Just like all his other lives this one also had a bloody end.
“It’s easy to be virtuous when times favor you. It is easy to praise a god that sends you nothing but blessings. It is easy to be filial before a master when all you know is light and sunshine. How will you act when good times abandon you? Will you curse your god when they send nothing but hardship? How do you treat your honored master when they are in need of shelter as the sky falls and demons reign?”
The familiar words echoed in the darkness, however there was a change this time. Wolf could clearly recall all of the things he had experienced in the various dreamscapes. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. Surprisingly, Wolf was sitting in a comfortable chair, inside a well lit chamber. The room was neither big nor small, but it had a very cozy feel. Which was really odd, since the room was empty save for a fireplace that was obscured by a massive armchair… The only thing Wolf could see in the empty room was the back of an armchair. So, why did it feel cozy?
Wolf was about to get up when an ancient male voice sounded from the armchair.
“Stubborn as a mule, but principled and loyal. Premium talent for cooking, magic, academics, swordsmanship, scribing Spell Formations, Soul Refining and Energy Refining.” The man paused, seemingly impressed by the list. Then he continued, as if reading a record.
“Passable talent in fields of botany, rune smithing, hunting and beast taming. Most of the others are average, with only two exceptions. You’re a horrendous Artificer and an ideal Alchemist to work for anyone I want dead...”
The last part was followed by a warm, hearty chuckle. It seemed out of place, considering the way the ancient voice sounded.
sleepydad88 Archibald's lessons:
Due to the sheer magnitude of the world, days on Masterpiece are longer than on Earth. The cycle of night and day takes thirty-six hours. Meaning two years on Masterpiece are roughly three years on Earth.
