B.F.HUUPS
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3. Road to the Spiral Tower
🕑 Added 2023-10-07 22:00:03 +0000 UTCAs the party climbed the rocky ledges out of the Yarges valley, the burnt grass was soon replaced by marshy glades, leveling out the terrain.
A single, narrow path weaved through the misty marshland, characterized by long grass that hid most of the shallow water.
Empires had risen and fallen here, and the residual magical energy that had seeped into the ground over millennia ago had made it the perfect location to build a mage tower. That had been over eight hundred years ago. And now, the hulking Spiral Tower pierced through the persistent cloud of mist that hung over the land, like a mounting rising from the fog. Besides that, nothing else could be seen through the impenetrable white save their immediate surroundings.
Tensions amongst the apprentices rose as the party marched deeper into Dead Realm Marsh, and a silent vigil gripped their attention whilst slowly trotting.
It may have appeared odd to build their tower in what was the most dangerous place on this side of the gate, but mana-rich land was great for their power and strengthening their mana bonds, even if it did attract all kinds of magical beings. Whilst that inherently meant danger, it also provided great training for apprentices.
Songs about the Dead Realm March had traveled to Ryewood, but until now, Earon hadn’t believed half of what he heard. However, faced with the ethereal nature of his surroundings and the change in demeanor of the apprentices, he quickly found himself tightening his grip around his saddle’s reins and pommel.
Half expecting Sidos, who had become somewhat of his watcher, to taunt him, Earon was surprised to see the apprentice mage equally unnerved by their surroundings as he turned to watch him.
The only one amongst them to remain calm was Master Rudis. His high-nosed expression never left him. Whilst the apprentices might have feared this place, and whatever challenges it posed, they clearly no longer bothered the elder master. To have lived as long as he had, meant not just surviving this place, but thriving in it.
Remembering back to the Spruce Gale and their indifference, a shiver traced Earon’s spine. Few Ryelanders would travel that place at night, and fewer still would do so with a straight face.
***
New ability unlocked – Mana Sense (Passive) Grants the ability to sense nearby sources of mana. Progression; 1.
Warlock – Level 2 achieved.
***
A level up and a new ability? Earon crooked his head.
His thoughts were cut short as he noticed several shadowy red figures beyond the haze. They couldn’t have been more than a dozen or so meters away, and Earon’s jaw drooped as more and more of the figures came into view.
He didn’t know what he was looking at but he knew he wanted to warn the others. Unfortunately, it seemed his mouth didn’t want to work. No, not just his mouth, Earon’s entire body refused his orders. Ridgely clung to his saddle; Earon could only watch in horror for the next few seconds as the group trotted into what appeared to be an ambush.
Raising an arm, Master Rudis halted the group. Narrowing his eyes, Rudis scanned the mist surrounding them and sniffed the air. “Ambush!” He shouted as electrifying crackles began to erupt from his fingers.
Eyes widening, Earon watched as the hazy blue figures charged forward, pouncing through the mist a second later.
Draped in leaf-threaded cloaks, over a dozen horned satyr emerged from all around, darting forward with daggers and spears in hand.
A blast of lightning thundered through the air, sending one of the magical satyrs flying back the way it had come. But it wasn’t enough, and within moments, two of the apprentices had been pulled from their horses and dragged into a stabbing frenzy by several satyrs.
Bucking and thrashing, Earon’s mare turned to charge back into the direction they had come, but after only a few meters of the wild ride, Earon was thrown from the horse into knee-deep water.
Bolts flew from crossbows, and another bolt of lightning lit up their surroundings in a thunderous display of white light as it bellowed into an off-guard satyr.
Pushing up onto his knees and shaking the water from his face, Earon realized he had regained control of his terrified body. But only just in time to see a knife-wielding satyr charging toward him.
Earon wasn’t a warrior, and without hesitation, he turned and ran, ran with every ounce of strength he had.
Splashing through knee-deep water, Earon’s boots clung to the mud beneath, and he labored with every step he took, but forced himself onward, ignoring the burning, tightening sensation spreading from his thighs.
There wasn’t any thought or planning, climbing up one swampy bank and up onto dry land, just to submerge himself again as it faded beneath more water. That didn’t matter though, only creating distance between himself and his attacker did.
Struggling up another muddy bank, Earon’s foot slipped on a collapsing section of earth, and he only barely managed to throw his upper body onto the hard surface beyond. Flailing and grasping at soggy patches of grass, he pulled himself up.
His relief didn’t last long as a furious hand wrapped around his ankle. Earon turned and kicked, but the grazing strike only managed to enrage the snarling satyr as it pulled on his leg, dragging Earon back down.
Furious, yellow eyes bared down on him from the goat-like humanoid as it regripped its dagger and drew it behind its back, sending a lunging strike toward Earon. It was a second too late, and Earon had already released another kick that smacked the satyr on its chin, loosening its grip and allowing Earon to scramble further up the muddy bank.
A bestial roar followed, and the satyr was immediately in pursuit scuttling up the bank.
Pushing himself to his feet, Earon forced himself onward, only to trip on a tuft of thick grass a moment later.
Turning, Earon’s eyes widened. The satyr was upon him. Dagger in hand, the beast descended. Only Inches from Earon, a squeal escaped its lips.
A scaled tentacle warped around the beast’s stomach and lifted it into the air.
Earon didn’t stick around to see what had happened, shuffled back to his feet, and continued his mindless charge.
The pain was beyond muscle ache, Earon’s bones and his very essences groaned in agony as he forced himself on. Earon’s throat dried and pants turned to wheezing coughs, whilst daggers stabbed at his midsection. But it was only the pain of exhaustion, and Earon’s fear forced him on; continuing until he collapsed.
Flickering open, a canopy of green met Earon's eyes.
Leaves?
Earon creaked upward, suddenly and painfully aware of every stiffened muscle in his cramped body.
“I have a feeling I’m not walking normally for a while.” He groaned and stretched.
Where am I?
Giant oaks surrounded Earon and blanketed the sky – allowing only thin streams of light through, whilst acorns covered the ground. This wasn’t the Spruce Gale, was it? No, of course, it wasn’t. Earon was fairly certain he couldn’t possibly have run that far.
Earon wondered if he should go back and look for the mage. He didn’t want any trouble being caused back in Ryewood, and certainly not for his mother. But how would he even go about doing that?
Indistinguishable trees spread out in all directions, and Earon looked around with confusion, unable to even make out the footprints that brought him here.
Sitting around wouldn’t help, but neither would trying to find his way in this place.
“I guess this way's as good as any.” Earon sighed with reluctance, his thighs tightening with every step.
“Giant oak, giant oak, giant oak,” Earon tiredly mumbled as he continued for close to an hour through the forest, until he almost tumbled to the ground tripping over something.
“Freaking rock,” he cursed but raised his brow when he looked down. It was brick, an old greenish-brown brick almost entirely submerged by grass.
Curious but not quite exciting, Earon moved on. It wasn’t long until he started spotting more. Soon a dozen or so bricks lay scattered around a small clearing, and at its center a slab of stone.
Earon approached, kneeling to peel back the grass that had swallowed it. It was a grave,
“Here lays a hero. May you find more peace in the next life. Rygal Tydarus – 788-812.”
Too young, Earon grimaced.
The reality of life’s fragility had felt more real to Earon since his latest experience, and he placed a mournful hand upon the grave.
“Rest easy,” Earon mumbled and pushed back to his feet.
It moved. Earon hadn’t meant to disturb the dead and shifting the stone crown sent a shiver down his spine and instantly pulled his hand away.
“I’m sorry.”
What am I doing? Earon wondered. Apologizing to a dead guy as if I’m not about to join him. I'm lost in a freaking forest.
Earon hung his head and sighed, but raised it a moment later. He spotted something. There was something within the coffin, something that held a metallic sheen.
Groaning, he bent forward. “Sorry, but I gotta do it.” Earon pushed against the slap of stone, grinding it open after a brief struggle.
A skeleton rested within, dressed in what had likely been the hero’s garb. A rusted chain shirt, a rusted spearhead attached to a shaft almost entirely rotted away, and a small wooden shield in similar condition.
Falling back against his rear, Earon sighed. All of that for trash? He sat there for a moment, contemplating life.
At the end of the day, he was still alone in a forest and couldn’t be entirely sure one of those goat-like men wasn’t still searching for him. And so, Earon decided to help himself. Even if the equipment barely looked suitable for us.
He slid the chain shirt straight over the top of his own raggedy flax shirt and picked up the remnants of the spear.
The wood crumbled in his hands, and Earon soon found himself left with just the rusty spearhead, but at least he could use it as a dagger.
Unfortunately, the shield looked like junk in its current state, with only the small metal boss having any integrity left.
Turning away, Earon stopped himself and gave the shield a curious kick. The sound of glass jingled against the metal.
Huh?
Pushing the shield aside, a vial of thick yellow fluid was revealed.
Earon lifted the vial to his face.
“Potion of rejuvenation. If only I could have given it to you sooner, my love.” Read the fading label.
Hesitating a moment, Earon held the vial to his mouth. “Well, if there was ever a time for risk-taking.”
Near instantly Earon felt his body relaxing and energy returning. Even his growling stomach abided after a few minutes.
The potion had revitalized him and Earon felt great, but a quick look around the idyllic grove was a stark reminder that his situation hadn’t changed.
Guess I’ll keep walking.
***
New skill unlocked – Navigator (Passive) Finding your way through the world.
Progression; 1.
***
Skill notifications were usually a good thing, but Earon groaned at the painful reminder. His navigator skill had previously been 6, thanks to his wandering around Ryewood and its surroundings, confirmation beyond doubt that he really had lost all of his skills, even if that had already seemed to be the only rational explanation. It did, however, prove that the skill was regarded as related to his new class; though it seemed to be for just about every class.
It wasn’t long before fatigue began to set back in, and his stomach began to rumble again. The potion had been a lifesaver, but it didn’t seem to be a real substitution for actual rest and a proper meal.
A couple of hours later, Earon decided to take a rest against one of the giant oaks. He had taken a rather perfect stick as a walking aid some hours ago and got an idea whilst recovering.
It would only require a little work, and Earon shaved off a thin layer of stick on one end with his spearhead, allowing him to grind the spearhead onto the newly shaven end. It looked more like a hobo’s weapon than anything a soldier would carry, but Earon felt a little safer with his makeshift spear than he had before.
“Well, at least I can defend myself,” Earon sighed as he looked up at the canopy above.
More trees, Earon internally sighed as he wondered how many hours were left in the day.
Perhaps he had walked in the wrong direction from the start, but he wandered all day and didn’t want to turn around now.
Just a bit further, please, be just a bit further. Something, anything.
As Earon passed another tree, he spotted something. Blinked, rubbed his eyes, and stared in disbelief. It was a person. Stood between a few trees just ahead of Earon.
Running and waving, he called out to the person. “Hello there!”
No response came from the statically standing person, facing away from Earon. But that didn’t dissuade him.
“Hello?”
Earon slowed as he approached within several meters. Something was off. The figure stood crookedly, and too still. Their hair was a gray mess, and their clothes were. No, their rags were torn to shreds.
Slowly, and with an inhuman jerk the figure turned to Earon.
“Zombie!?”
The figure seemed to reanimate as its limbs lurched at impossible angles. Then it screamed and charged.
“Shit!” Earon yelped as he turned to run, immediately tripping over a tangled root.
Crawling, he struggled back to his feet, but the zombie had cleared the distance between them in that time and was now only a couple of meters away.
Up was the only way, and Earon barely managed to stumble forward and pull himself up one oversized branch as the zombie’s flailing arms swung out for him.
He needed to go higher, and without care for his exposed arms, frantically pulled himself up and onto the next branch - tearing up his skin in the process.
Luckily, it didn’t seem the zombie could climb, and it remained at the tree’s base, wildly scratching at the trunk in a mindless attempt to get at Earon.
He had a chance to catch his breath, but that didn’t really make being trapped up a tree feel any better.
“I wonder if you’re just hungry,” Earon mused as he looked down at the groaning jaws of the zombie. “Can’t say I blame you.”
Head leaned against the trunk; Earon cursed his seemingly never-ending bad luck.
How did things always seem to get worse lately?
What’s that noise? Earon turned, and through the leaves, he could see it. Hung high in another tree, a hive of bees buzzed away. If he could figure out how to get it down without dying, he could feed himself, at least.
Groaning, the zombie reminded him of its presence a second later, but Earon also remembered his spear. Somehow, he had managed to keep hold of it during his flight.
He still wasn’t a warrior, nothing close to it. But up a tree, with the zombie stuck out of reach and lurching for him, it was another story.
Steadily lowering himself, Earon brought his chest down and clung around the body of the massive branch he sat on, gripping his makeshift spear in his right hand.
“Sorry for this, or maybe I’m not?” Earon said as he jabbed the spear forward and into the head of the out-of-reach zombie. The strike was slow and soft, so very soft and it just kind of pushed the zombie's head back, and even the zombie seemed confused as its head seemed to tilt before returning to its mindless clawing.
“Well, at least nobody alive saw that.”
He needed more momentum, and so Earon lifted his right half upward and brought the spear back, before stabbing downward again.
“Shit!”
Too much power and Earon’s body went tumbling forward with the momentum of his stab, painfully crashing down to the forest floor - some three meters below.
“Oww,” Earon moaned for a second until he remembered his predicament and scooted back against the tree in terror.
***
New skill unlocked – Polearms (Passive) Fighting with polearm weapons.
Progression; 1.
***
Earon felt some relief as the progression notification appeared, since experience usually came when you defeated something, or at least that is what the bards would say. Only a second later Earon realized that the zombie’s corpse lay sprawled out in front of him, the spear well and truly impaled in its head.
He had actually done it, killed a monster. And an unfamiliar sense of pride and accomplishment washed over Earon. Even if it couldn’t really fight back, he had done it, he had defeated a real monster. A stupid grin creased across his face, Earon wondered, was this how adventurers always felt?
