Brent Stinebaker
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V-10 Academy (II)
🕑 Added 2025-10-11 20:06:15 +0000 UTCIt is a double-edged thing, being a non-martial. You can see this in the name itself. You are not martial, not someone capable of fighting, or at least not as capable as someone dedicated to the art of combat. And in a world ruled by strife, that makes you less than.
It doesn't matter that you are the core of any nation's economy, that you produce the most goods, that you're in charge of manufacturing, that you grow all the crops, that you offer the bulk of the arts, that the scientific and magical insights discovered are all tied to you or people like you. But ultimately, how many non-martials rule in government? How many non-martials decide their own fate?
Simply look upon the non-martial faculty at Phoenix Academy. Many of them are brilliant path-bearers. They're recognized for their tiers and expertise, but they are so often traded, tied to other lords or their own houses. Their services are offered without their consent, their decisions shackled by means of tenure and binding contracts.
Specifically, the Republic values non-martial pursuits more than a great many other nations. But the heroes that we deem non-martial all share a trait in common: they are combat capable, and they have learned to use their initially harmless skills offensively.
The Songbringer is no victim. Maiden is no victim. Veronica Chandler is no victim.
And that is the deciding factor. For however enlightened we profess ourselves to be, we are still children of the system.
And until that changes, we abide by steel and spell before anything else.
To think you will live a peaceful life if you choose to stay away from the blade is a delusion. Violence is coming.
-Path of the Harmless (Essay draft written by Melissa Harrington)
V-10
Academy (II)
Concelhaunt and Merrielmel fled into the maze with haste, and the others followed close behind. As Shiv passed between the stone walls, he looked up and caught sight of a crack lining the gleaming material that made up the ceiling.
Through the fissure in the protective dome lining the top of the arena, he could see rows and rows of seats rising upward, and a feeling of wrongness came upon him. There was a haunted feeling to this location, like it shouldn't have survived its final impact, like it was being forced to serve long after its expiration. There were people here once, sitting above, looking down into the arena, watching games of skill, strength, and magic.
Shiv could still taste some of that magic in the air. The white walls of the maze were shaped from geomancy. The light above radiated with a bit of Divination between the sprinkles of bioluminescence. But there was also a pervasive sense of coldness in the atmosphere. It felt more like they were on the side of some mountain, where the oxygen was thin, but every gulp of air one drew in was refreshing.
Powerful Aeromancy had to be at work here, which made sense. They were deep underground, after all, and from what they had discovered, the Enchanter and Smith were siphoning mana from the gate positioned right above them.
The more Shiv thought about that, the more questions he had. The repositioning was ingenious. No one wanted to destabilize the foundation of a gateway; there was too much risk involved. Mana did strange things when it was destabilized. Furthermore, with the amount of magic radiating from the gateway, everything here was masked, allowing the two rogue professors to conduct their trade.
And what a trade they were conducting. Just how many people are addicted to this drug shit, Shiv thought to himself. Even back at Blackedge, there were chefs on something. Too many.
As Merrielmel and Concelhaunt led the others along a winding path filled with sharp twists and sudden turns, Shiv saw more of those crates, and his Biomancy detected more hidden drugs within. But by now, he didn't need his magic to tell what they were hiding. There was a smell in the air as well, a particularly foul smell that reminded Shiv of burning mold.
"Despicable," Irons growled as he glared at all the crates stacked against the stone walls. Some of them climbed all the way to the top, and each crate was large enough to hide half an orc. "To think that this was taking place on academy grounds, and to think that I didn't notice at all."
"More people than you have failed," Adam said, trying to placate his instructor. "The Ascendants seemed ignorant as well. The Inquisition, the Guard. It's not your duty to investigate these things, Captain."
"I disagree," Irons shot back. "Their failures do not forgive my own. This was my station. They were my colleagues. You were my student. I had a responsibility to all of you. I still have a responsibility to all of you."
Shiv grunted in open approval. "If only more people thought like you, we wouldn't be in this much shit."
Irons grunted in agreement. Shiv grunted again. They both grunted in disgust as they saw even more crates around the corner.
Adam looked between Shiv and Irons and simply snorted. "I knew this would happen."
"What would happen?" Shiv asked, looking over his shoulder.
"That you two would find each other good company." The Gate Lord licked his lips and adopted a serious expression a moment later. "But I suspect they're not growing this. There’s no soil nearby. Not from what I can smell. I think they're just holding this for the rest of the Neath. This is a transportation hub, meaning that there is traffic coming here, likely to claim or leave more drug-filled crates. So, probably quite a bit of traffic going through here.”
Shiv didn't like that. Frankly, Shiv didn't like anything he couldn't fully control. Dealing with the Dragon Brokers was just a means to an end. He suspected he would be seeing one of their representatives soon enough to do some kind of ritual. He wasn't exactly keen on having one of his skills bound, but considering he could mend shattered skills, breaking the deal wasn't nearly a permanent wound for him or anyone he was allied with.
"We're here," Merrielmel cried from in front. Shiv didn't know where 'here' was. From what he could see, looking over the shoulders of the goblin and elf, they were staring at a dead end. The ugly surface of a stone wall greeted him. The only thing special about it was the crack running down its center. Then Shiv saw the first specks of static leaking from the crack, and he realized what was happening.
A moment later, the wall tore open, revealing a hidden space inside. It was like one of Adam's dimensional ribs, except when it expanded, rather than revealing a pathway, it just opened a pocket of space that resembled the insides of a cavern.
Shiv guessed that there were fifteen meters of room within the pocket, and at the center was a large furnace that churned with boiling hot bursts of pyromancy. The walls and floor here were cluttered as well. There were several workbenches littered with a variety of tools, half-cut metal sheets, and discarded metal bars piled on the ground.
At the center of the room was a basin that seemed to be filled with some kind of mercury-like liquid that drew Can Hu's attention. "Interesting," the Penitent declared, and Shiv understood why. It was the same kind of glowing mercury that Can Hu could wield thanks to the mana core’s special Skill Fusion ability.
As everyone surveyed the room, Shiv was surprised to find even more mechanisms to his left and right. There were tall, distillery-like apparatuses, and churning sounds rattled from the brass tubes connected to them. At their base was a slot. Most of the apparatuses held nothing within their slots, but one of them gave a final ringing cry and spat out a piece of alloy. It was in the shape of a ring, perfectly smooth around the sides, and it was shaped with precision and quality.
Then, at the very far end of the room was a wall with a series of capsules installed on it. The capsules glistened mithril-bright, and within came the muted glow of mana. Something magical was stored within those capsules. Shiv counted sixteen sphere-shaped containers on the wall, and Concelhaunt made for the rightmost one on the bottom, punching it in the middle, callously, for seemingly no reason at all.
A second later, it opened with a click, and the goblin reached in. Its automaton chassis flared with a rush of mana, and soon a layer of stone clung to the chrome exterior he piloted. There, in the right hand of his chassis, was a mana core, small and bright, pulsating like a gem but crystalline in material. He handed it to Merrielmel, and they briefly exchanged a few whispers. Both of them turned to regard Shiv, and then flinched away as they realized the Deathless was glaring at them.
"Ahem," Merrielmel cleared his throat. "So, your mask. It was a substantially powerful piece of equipment, and it will require a good amount of mana to fix. Furthermore, its damage is severe, and it's been destroyed for some time. It will need to have a few skills invested into it to make up for what is lost, and that might require a period of delicate care."
"It's also going to need to be rebuilt," Concelhaunt sniffled. The goblin gestured toward the pool of mercury. "We're going to chuck it in there first, and then we're going to use that geomancy core to make it all soft and shit. Now, I've got to warn you. There's a chance... a chance that it might not work out."
"A chance it might not work out?" Shiv growled. "I brought my Mask of False Paths for you two to fix and not for you two to tell me things 'might not work out'."
"We're just being transparent," Merrielmel said, holding up his hands placatingly. "But it is not a high chance. We are both heroes, you see, and we are well-versed in preserving a piece of equipment. Why, you know, restoring something and repairing something is far easier than creating something new. The chance is small, very, very small."
"Well, I hope you can make it non-existent," Shiv said calmly, "because if I can't use that mask, you're gonna have to make me another one. Or, odds are, that notification that keeps popping up in front of you telling you that I'm the Deathless, trying to provoke you into killing me... that's going to keep going off for everyone, and sooner or later, someone's gonna follow me back here."
Shiv ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth as both Concelhaunt and Merrielmel flashed bright, their bodies briefly resembling glass. His fists throbbed with a trembling force. "The people after me are mean and vicious bastards. They'll come after you, they'll break everything you have, and then they'll break you too. We don't want that."
"No, no, no," Merrielmel said, shaking his head vigorously. "We can make sure that the repair goes smoothly, but that will take some time, perhaps a day, twelve hours at the least. You have to understand, though I have seen a great many enchantments in my time, Perfect Semblance is a very rare enchantment, very rare indeed. Actually, however..." Merrielmel coughed.
Concelhaunt eyed his fellow professor and then groaned. "Really? You gonna do this fucking right now? Shit, if you are, just ask him."
"Ask me what?" Shiv said.
"I would like to take a look at the enchantment in deeper detail. It might add some time, but..." Merrielmel began to steeple his fingers together nervously. "...let me build something for the others, potentially allowing me to replicate the enchantment of the mask and apply it to other items. I would be most obliged. In fact, I would be thankful. We can discuss..."
Shiv waved him off. "Look, I don't care how long it takes, so long as it doesn't take a month, and so long as you don't break the mask in the end. Well, any more than it's already broken."
"Of course, of course," Merrielmel chirped. "So, uh, we can begin. In the meantime, well, we might not have specific living quarters set up here. This is not exactly, uh... technically, uh... how do the people of the Neath call it? A safe house?"
"A safe house," Concelhaunt provided.
"Yes, it's not exactly a safe house, but if you wish to make yourself comfortable here, we would not be against it."
"Not be against it, he says," Helix scoffed viciously, "as if these two can protect themselves, as if they can decide anything at all." The orc Biomancer stepped up and regarded the other two intellectuals. He gazed down upon them from the bridge of his nose, and his glasses hung low in a demonstration of his scorn. "This is pitiful. What use the Neath can find in you is beyond me. What purpose is there in pursuing knowledge if you cannot protect it, if you cannot protect yourselves?"
Suddenly, Merrielmel and Concelhaunt's postures changed. They were still terrified, but there was a slight shift in their demeanor. The goblin had his chassis reach down and wrap its fingers around the hammer it carried. It also wrenched the anvil from its back. Merrielmel, meanwhile, slid one of his hands under his tassels. Just then, Shiv caught the smirk crawling up the left side of Helix's face. The Deathless realized what they were trying to do and put an end to it.
"Hey, if anyone starts fighting each other right now instead of fixing my mask or doing something else that's useful, I'm just gonna kill them myself." The tension in the air burst. Three sets of eyes fell upon Shiv, and Helix gave his Insul a frustrated sneer.
The Deathless remained unimpressed.
"I'll find some way for you guys to scratch your itch soon enough," Shiv said. "In the meantime..." Shiv trailed off, not sure what they were supposed to do in the meantime, but he had a few thoughts.
***
For the next half-day or so, the group convened and recovered. Solzimort remained hidden underground, the orcs began going over their equipment and taking stock of what they had. Adam rested as well. But that didn’t mean the Gate Lord was idle, for during this period, Adam’s Shattered Star flared bright, and a restorative radiance alleviated everyone’s exhaustion—and Can Hu’s damaged body especially.
Frankly, it had been a while since he had had any downtime at all. He wouldn't consider this an actual break, but with no one killing him, no one hunting him, and with no other matters demanding his immediate attention, he could finally have a moment to just sit and catch his breath alongside the rest of the other prisoners.
Across the room, the two rogue professors tossed another mana core into the mercury puddle and continued channeling their own mana into the process. It was the fifth time they repeated this process—citing significant mana and item damage. They also argued incessantly as they worked, hissing at each other in harsh tones as they debated on how best to restore the Mask of False Paths.
Every now and again, they would cast a nervous glance at Shiv and the orcs. They also whined about how the Neath’s liaison hadn’t arrived yet, leaving them to deal with this right now. Shiv was curious about that too, but it was surprising—especially with the city under lockdown.
For a while, things were quiet. There was plenty to talk about, but everyone was spent. Information and business could wait for a while. For a bit, Shiv just tested his new pan and nursed his mind on his thoughts.
The moment, however, didn’t last. The Educator had her eyes on him throughout, and her gaze was cold and harsh.
Fuck this, Shiv grumbled internally. I’m tired of this overdramatic tension bullshit. We’re getting this dealt with right now.
“Educator,” Shiv grunted. The Forgotten Ascendant looked at him without ever bothering to offer him a response. "We need to talk about Udraal. Actually, we need to talk about all your former friends too. Let's get a few things straight. Or, let's skip straight to the violence if we can't decide on that. I’m tired of wasting time.
The Ascendant said nothing. Instead, she released a cold, harsh breath. Shiv wondered if it would have been better to be fighting someone instead. "Alright, let's start with this, Maia. Does your plan to escape your divinity have anything to do with me?" She was doing a remarkable job communicating only scorn with her eyes, so Shiv took things a step further. "Did Udraal promise you a resurrection through me? Is he going to transplant whatever skill that's binding you to the Great One inside me? Is that the long-term plan to fix your godhood problem?”
Sticks and Stones 57 > 58
As this question struck something hard, the Educator turned away and clenched her teeth. A patch of her face turned to glass. "He told you, the damned bastard," she guessed.
“No! I guessed! Had nothing to do with him telling me.” Shiv nearly snarled. He wasn't actually mad at her, however. Instead, most of his rage was directed at his creator because the bastard seemed to have one trick when it came to Shiv, and that was using him as some kind of counter-death incubator. “He used me to bring Rose Van Erren back into the world. I'm supposed to still have Adam's sister inside me somewhere. He’s going to have me do the same for his mother; he's planning to do the same thing with the Great One, so of course he's going to do the same thing with you.”
The Educator turned away from Shiv and everyone else watched as her expression went from vicious to uncertain and then determined once more.
"You know about the degeneration," Shiv said again. It was less of a question and more of a statement.
"Yeah," Shiv said, "I know about it. I know it's affecting Starhawk, affecting all the Ascendants. I'm guessing from how you act, it's affecting you as well. Is that why you paint and sketch inside your tome so much? To remind you who you were, to hold on to the history of yourself?"
"Stop using your Psychology on me," she hissed, and in her eyes then he saw something else aside from the usual distaste she had for him. There was a genuine feeling of hurt there. “Do you think I do not know? Do you think I am not sickened by my own state? Every day? That I am not aware that I am a stereotype of myself. A caricature.”
She didn't like being seen. She didn't like being less. And she definitely didn't like the fact that he was taunting her over it. The cruel bit inside him wanted him to continue digging his finger into that wound, to make her angry, to provoke her into violence so that they could see this thing done one way or another.
But his sensible side took over instead. Even if he infuriated the Educator and killed her for good, there was still Udraal out there, still Veronica. And thus far, despite being pretty shitty company, her tome and power allowed them to avoid Harlock's notice; she was better on their side than not. At least for now.
"Fine," Shiv said, offering her a concession. "I'm gonna stop psycho-analyzing you all the time, stop poking at your wounds. But I want something from you as well." She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. "Listen, I don't wanna argue, but every time we talk, we get pretty close to ripping each other apart. You don't like me. We're never gonna like each other. It’s the way it is. But right now, so long as we're gonna work together, I say we be like adults and just deal with things. I’m tired of playing the two snarling dogs bullshit when I’m with you. Just… Let’s stop doing that. Waste of time. Pointless.”
As he said that, he looked at the ground. There came a pristine whiteness as he focused the Chef Unwavering, and over the whiteness there manifested a grid for him to cut into. He sliced down with his Last Morsel and began carving chunks out of the floor. Irons shot a look at Adam, and the gate lord grunted in discomfort. "You'll understand in a minute. But maybe not. Most things that relate to Shiv are either ridiculous or absurd. Or bloody and horrible, but that’s mainly when he gets a terrible idea for a new weapon, or feeds himself to some monster.”
The Deathless gave Irons a demonstration as he threw a few pieces of severed rock into his frying pan. He carved a snippet free from a mote of fire he conjured thereafter, and soon it was cooking. Shiv caught sight of Merrielmel eying his pan. Brief looks. The Deathless didn't think much of the Enchanter, but having him check the Last Morsel at some point might also be insight. But that depended on what the man did with his mask.
As the lid of the pan lifted, Shiv held the well-cooked stones out to the Educator as a peace offering. Instead of being badly burned chunks of rock, a pungent smell that evoked feelings of well-smoked brisket and steaming meat filled the air.
"What?" Irons said. Even the man's surprise was deadpan, but the utter disbelief was written clean across his face.
The Educator stared down into the frying pan and breathed from her nose. "Truly, this is your idea of diplomacy? Cooking stones?”
"It's the only thing I do well other than hitting people with my fists, stabbing them with a knife, or mangling their insides," Shiv shrugged. "I didn't really get a chance to develop any other skills. The system kept getting in the way of that over and over. Now try it. It's not bad."
"He speaks truth," Whisper muttered from beside Shiv. “And the pan is a wonder. Do not be scared, little god. It is not wise when the Challenger is watching. You don’t want to give him your measure, do you now?”
All the orcs were grinning at the Educator as well, trying to use what little peer pressure they had to get her to partake. She hesitated for a moment and reached down. With the end of a pencil, she skewered a cooked piece of rock, and its texture parted much like a piece of meat would. After a final uncertain look, she placed it inside her mouth and chewed. Her first bite was hesitant, expecting to greet stone with enamel. When her teeth sheared right through, a confidence flowed through her, and she hummed in surprise as she consumed the meal.
"You're not much of a red meat person, are you?" Shiv asked. The Educator didn't say, but he could tell. "Actually, I don't think you're much of a food person at all. You probably don't think that much of food. You're the type to get lost in your art and not do anything else for days. You eat when you're hungry, and no other time. You feed yourself to stay alive; you don't stay alive to keep feeding yourself."
Sourness returned to the Educator's mien. "I told you to stop using your psychology against me."
"I'm not using my psychology. Not really. This is cooking, pure and simple. Most people who enjoy eating, they got preferences. The way they chew, how fast they chew, how fast the food goes down tells you how much they like something. But you just look uncertain. And uncertainty means that you don't know enough to form an opinion. That's alright though. It'll come in time."
Shiv spun the Last Morsel in his hand and dipped a finger down into the center of the pan. As he did, he felt himself press against nothing. His digits simply descended further and further. It was like he was reaching into a bottomless pit. Only after he fed the pan with both material and flame would its bottom manifest any kind of solidity at all. Got plenty of things to test this on. Mana types, different alloys.
As the Educator listened to Shiv speak, her skin briefly adopted the texture of stone. She looked down at her hand with a raised eyebrow, and a few seconds later, the boost she gained from the Last Morsel faded. Her rocky exterior collapsed into a spray of dust, and then it further dissolved until there was nothing left.
She scoffed once more, but there was no heat in her voice this time. "Let it be said, Deathless, that of all the people I've faced, and of all the people I know, the system seems to favor you the most. Its hand is heavy upon your shoulder, and it wishes for you to war, to struggle incessantly." He met her stare without flinching, but there was a building intensity behind her eyes. "You know this moment is fleeting, don't you? You can hide for now. I can mask you for now. But treachery and bloodshed is inevitable for you. Inescapable."
"It's inescapable for all those in this room," Shiv replied. "Probably inescapable for the school as well."
Irons narrowed his eyes, and Shiv offered the captain an explanation. "You know what a system favorite is, don't you?"
"Of course," Captain Irons said. "And you? You're a favorite?"
"Oh yeah," Shiv laughed. "So is Adam. So is everyone who survives being around me for more than a day or so. Well, if they survive, I'm glad I'm in good company anyway. I'm gonna tell you this right now, Irons. We help each other, but maybe you don't want to be that close to me. Maybe you might want to keep your distance. Because right now, these few hours of peace, they're getting rarer and rarer in my life. Blood and death practically cling to my ass like fleas, and there's really no way out."
"And you decided to come to the Academy, regardless?" Irons asked. Shiv understood his point of contention, but ultimately, it was probably a bit too late for that.
"Yeah," he replied, "because it doesn't matter no more. Everything’s already over the edge. The Ascendants are going insane, there's a big ugly game being played, and an avalanche is heading for the Yellowstone Republic, regardless of if I'm here or not. The gods are degenerating, there's a Tarrasque on the loose, and, apparently, hostile nations are mustering their forces north and south." Shiv sighed. "I'd stay away if I thought it would do you any good, but it probably won't. There's no avoiding a lot of this. You’re a soldier. The system’s gonna do what the system is gonna do.”
"And you're already in it as well," Adam said, backing Shiv up. "Captain. You’re looking for Melissa, aren’t you? Well, there are good odds that she's already dead. We encountered Daughter several times in the prison. Her vessels are almost always children, young. I don't know if there is a specific age limit for the avatars she can use, if they have their consent, or whatever the rules are. But I can tell you this: more than a few of the children wailed and screamed as Daughter used them." The Gate Lord grimaced. "I've seen terrible things. Things that show the Republic isn't what I thought it was. It's not lying to me; it's always been lying to me!”
Adam glared down at the ground as his Shattered Dawn flickered. Irons stared at the face of his former pupil, then up at his Unique Skill.
“What did it take for you to get that,” Irons asked.
The Gate Lord drew in a long breath and exhaled. “More than I thought I had. More than I wanted to give. But it’s not done. Unless we get better, we get stronger, and we get ahead of all our foes, it’s not done. If I want to live, I have to war. I have to be more than I was.”
“Such is the price,” Irons grunted.
“Such is the price,” Adam agreed quietly.
"And this is why we pity you," Mortar grunted. The large orc looked between all of the Republic's so-called citizens among them. "You all lie to yourselves too much. You all torture yourselves for nothing. You humans, you goblins, you children of earth. You're capable of such wondrous things, but you're also determined to live so pointlessly. It's all about power, but you don't want to admit that. And when someone else shows their greed and gluttony, you're hurt as if there was any other way to be."
"There are plenty of other ways to be," Shiv snorted in disagreement. "Irons is here. He's trying to do the right thing. He had a mark on him because he tried to do the right thing. Cripple is wavering as well. Starhawk—”
The Educator laughed out loud, her bitterness stinging the air. "Matthew is a fool. That's all he is. He thinks there's a way to deliver justice. He thinks that by somehow spreading divine power among the people, by connecting all of them to the Great One and giving them the gift of our so-called divinity, that we would all be better, that this Republic would truly flourish. Absurd."
"You don't believe that?" Shiv asked.
"I know it's untrue," she replied. "I know it's untrue because they would just become like us." She shuffled closer, staring at Shiv dead-on in the eye. "Do you know what being a god means? It means magnification. It means everything you are good at, everything you are talented at, and all your flaws are amplified so many times over that you become a parody of yourself. A public given that power will not be noble and democratic, it will be an anarchy. And all anarchies are fated to become tyrannies.”
“You don’t know that,” Adam said. “You make excuses.”
“Oh, but I do,” the Educator muttered quietly. “I wish it weren’t so. I wish… I wish…” Her expression softened. “I wish people were who they claimed to be. I wish that the Starhawk could be right. But he isn’t. How many are like you, Deathless? Or you, Young Lord? How many keep throwing themselves into the jaws of hell over and again. For other people, no less? Not many. But I was one. Most of the Ascendants were like you as well.”
“Favored?” Shiv asked.
“No. The change-seekers. The deciders.”
“Overmen?” Shiv said, remembering something Valor told him early on, just as Shiv arrived in the Abyss.
The Educator looked surprised. “Yes. How did you know about that philosophy?”
“Valor.”
“Ah. Of course. But yes. The ones who choose. We will do these things because, by nature and nurture, we seek to be more. And we hate the world for what it is. But most people?” She shook her head. “They are animals with intelligence. They will react and eat and then die. But that’s all they will do. They wait to have their throats slit. Or they deform and become monsters. Evil is banal, boy. And there is nothing more evil than the common man.”
Shiv shrugged. “Maybe. But the same guy who could be a bastard can be something more too. Just gotta give them a reason. Feed them right.”
She closed her eyes and laughed softly. “I said those things once. A long time ago, as well. And now, I struggle not to spit spite at you. To hold on to our paltry peace.”
“Ahem!” A loud voice interrupted them. Merrielmel stood just a few steps away, and in his hands glistened a mask. But it wasn’t the mask Shiv remembered. Instead of being a thing of bronze, it was now glowing with the colors of mithril and stone. “We… need to make some additional improvements to preserve the mask. But we think the primary enchantment has been stabilized.”
The goblin stepped out from behind the elf and held up a hammer. “Got a few questions for you. A few choices as well. The Mind-Shield’s done and busted. We’re gonna need to swap something in for that. And we’re gonna need to remold the mask’s exterior in new material. Also, got a notification from our liaison. They’re outside with a few corpses.”
“Corpses?” Shiv asked.
“Yeah,” the goblin sniffled. He looked uncomfortable then. “Something about dead students to be from some morgue.” Shiv was speechless. In the corner of his right eye, he could see Irons struggle to keep his face from twitching in rage. “So. Besides the enchantment, got a question about what new skin suit you want as well.”
Comments
IdolTrust
I wonder what a god tastes like with that pan.
Brent Stinebaker
Bit of a long day; messy day too; more chapters soon. Time for "Totally Not Shiv" to experience the wonders of academy life, indulge in wonderful school yard events--and also get embroiled horrible things that will make several battle-hardened veterans want to drink bleach.
