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  Before they left the armory, Randolphus pointed out another small table. It had some armor and a few weapons on it. He told Richter that these were the items and equipment from the mercenary.

  You have found: Steel Hauberk. Defense +8 (max defense +9). Type: Medium Armor. Durability 34/40. Item class: Common. Quality: Average. Weight: 8.3 kg

  You have found: Steel Helm. Defense +4. Type: Medium armor. Durability: 25/25. Item class: Common. Quality: Average. Weight: 2.1 kg.

  You have found: Studded Leather Pants. Defense +4. Type: Light armor. Durability: 19/20. Item class: Common. Quality: Average. Weight: 1.9 kg.

  You have found: Pointed Steel Tipped Leather Boots. Defense +3. Type: Light armor. Durability 9/10. Item class: Common. Quality: Poor. Weight: 3.7 kg. +1 damage to kicks.

  You have found: Iron club. Attack 7-8. Durability 19/20. Item class: Common. Quality: Average. Weight: 3.1 kg.

  You have found: Steel dagger. Attack 7-9. Durability 15/15. Item class: Common. Quality: Average. Weight: 0.7 kg.

  You have found: Small coin purse

  Next to the mercenary’s gear, was a wooden short bow and a quiver of iron arrows. A short dagger was laying under the bow. Randolphus said those were from the woman. Outside of a small coin purse, clothes and some non-magical trinkets she had nothing else. He hadn’t seen the need to take any of that from her.

  Richter was surprised at the level of gear the mercenary had been carrying. None of it was horrible, but he would have thought that a Professed Warrior of a relatively high level would have better equipment. True, a sword was just a sword, it was the person wielding it that made it dangerous, but an enchanted sword or high quality armor could definitely turn the tide of a battle. It also looked, almost new, lacking the dents and almost buffed out scratches he would have expected. Well, just one more thing he would ask the Warrior about, Richter thought.

  The two men left the armory, walked past the Great Seal and down the tunnel leading to the outside. Not one to waste time, Randolphus continued speaking to his lord about a million and one little topics and decisions that needed to be made. Used to Randy’s efficient manner, Richter just kept answering at a steady pace, “Yes, No,” or quite frequently, “I’m sure you will handle it well, just do what you think is best.” When Richter pulled out the new Magic Core though, and asked what his chamberlain thought he should do with it, the man stopped walking.

  “Banished gods, please put that away, my Lord! I have been getting an earful every day since you have left. Craftsmen, tinkers, builders, they all want one! Krom has hidden the one you gave him because he is afraid one of the other villagers will take it! One of the things I was looking forward to about your homecoming, my Lord, was that it meant the Core would finally be used. If the villagers get wind that there is a second one, it will start the whole cycle again. Please keep it secret!”

  Jeez, Richter thought. Randy looked stressed! The man was sweating! Richter put the Magic Core away again, if only to ease his chamberlain’s nerves. “Okay, okay, it’s gone.” Randolphus’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “I still need to know what to do with it though. I don’t think just making another Magic Forge is the right choice. Feels too much like putting all of our eggs in one basket.” Richter realized he had spoken in idiom again. He was going to rephrase, when Randolphus assured him that he followed this time. “What I’m saying is, come up with an idea for me.” The man nodded and made another note on his clipboard.

  As they walked, the various villagers greeted them and said hello. Everyone seemed happy, but Richter wanted to know for sure. He accessed the city interface and saw that loyalty was at the same level that it had been before. Morale seemed to have dropped by twenty points though. Remembering the potential drop in morale after the bugbears had burned down the longhouse, he asked Randolphus how long it had taken to rebuild the longhouse. The chamberlain thought for a moment and answered eleven days. It was what Richter had thought. There had been a one-week grace period to rebuild, but after that morale would have dropped by five points per day.

  Satisfied that nothing was amiss with his village, he checked his on status.

  Name: Richter

  Age: 24

  Level: 18, 36%

  Health: 408 Mana: 421 Stamina: 210

  Strength: 29

  Agility: 24

  Dexterity: 34

  Constitution: 25

  Endurance: 21

  Intelligence: 35

  Wisdom: 21

  Charisma: 24

  Luck: 15

  Abilities:

  Limitless

  Gift of Tongues

  Fast Learner

  Bounty of Life

  Psi Bond

  Skills:

  Herb Lore Lvl 39; 22% to next level

  Alchemy Lvl 1; 0% to next level

  Analyze Lvl 6; 7% to next level

  Pierce the Veil Lvl 23; 45% to next level

  Stealth Lvl 6; 14% to next level

  Traps Lvl 21; 87% to next level

  Trap Disarm Lvl 21; 99% to next level

  Archery Lvl 10; 24% to next level

  Imbue Arrow Lvl 5; 18% to next level

  Focus Lvl 3; 78% to next level

  Double Shot Lvl 3; 31% to next level,

  Drill Shot Lvl 2; 40% to next level

  Swordsmanship Lvl 2; 15% to next level

  Small Blades Lvl 4; 43% to next level

  Unarmed Combat Lvl 1; 10% to next level

  Pressure Points Lvl 1; 15% to next level

  Dual Wield Lvl 1; 37% to next level

  Light Armor Lvl 8; 18% to next level

  Grace in Combat Lvl 5; 38% to next level

  Air Magic Lvl 6; 37% to next level

  Life Magic Lvl 5; 82% to next level

  Earth Magic Lvl 4; 92% to next level

  Water Magic Lvl 5; 47% to next level

  Dark Magic Lvl 5; 22% to next level

  Light Magic Lvl 4; 48% to next level

  Fire Magic Lvl 5; 9% to next level

  Map Making Lvl MAX

  Trade Lvl 14; 86% to next level

  War Leader Lvl 2, 43% to next level

  Enchanting Lvl 1; 44% to next level

  Portal Construction Apprentice

  Lore Lvl 1

  Marks:

  Master of Mist Village

  Blood Oath

  Resistances:

  Air 50%

  Earth 20%

  Life 50%

  Mental 15%

  Spiritual 15%

  Race: Human (Chaos Seed)

  Reputation: Lvl 3 “You seem like someone worthy of my attention.”

  Alignment: Neutral

  Language: All

  They arrived in front of the two guarded shacks. The buildings were nothing to take pride in. They were really just planks driven into the ground vertically, with more planks nailed horizontally to keep them together. The roof was comprised of even more planks nailed together and topped with a coating of tar. There was at least an inch of space sometimes between the joints. The prisoners could at least enjoy a well ventilated space. Probably hadn’t made the rain too much fun, though.

  Richter stopped walking and Randolphus motioned to one of the guards. He lifted a simple wooden crossbar and opened the door. A well-built man was in the process of standing up from a pile of damp straw that must be serving as a bed. The sky was still overcast and the inside of the wooden box was draped in shadow. Richter cast Simple Light, and a ball of came to hover above his head. It was a benign spell like the name implied, but his casting served two purposes. It allowed them all to see and it specifically allowed the prisoner to see that he was dealing with a caster. The magic he could command, coupled with Richter’s armor and weapons might throw the Warrior off of his game, and make him think twice about making a move. If the man was discomforted at all though, he didn’t show it. I need to take the initiative, Richter thought to himself.

  “So you’re one of the guys that was sent to kill me, huh? How was the trip thro
ugh the forest?” Richter put a false sense of cheer in his voice.

  The man just stared back. Even wearing only a pair of simple cloth pants and a basic shirt, the Warrior exuded a sense of menace. A cruel smile found its way onto the man’s face, and Richter knew that he was looking at a true enemy. Even if the mercenary had never been hired to come to the Mist Village, Richter knew this Warrior was someone he wouldn’t want standing behind him. He analyzed the man.

  Name: Orvin. Human Level 28. Health 720. Mana 130. Stamina 590. Disposition: Distaste. Humans are one of the shortest lived, but most prolific breeders in the Land. Humans have a broader affinity for skills than other races. No special bonuses to race. Humans get four points to distribute per level. Profession: Warrior.

  Keeping his expression cheerful, Richter clapped his hands and said, “Okay then, bye!” As he was walking out he said to the guards, “No food or water until I say otherwise. He can suck rain water from his clothes. If he makes a nuisance of himself, call Yoshi and the other sprites over. They’ll bind and gag him.”

  “What,” the man said in a shocked voice. “That’s not necessary!”

  Not giving the merc any more attention, Richter kept talking to Randolphus. “Like I said, if he keeps up that noise, gag him. I’ll be back to speak with him again in the morning after he has had time to wipe that stupid look off of his face. Now let’s go see the woman.”

  The guards threw the crossbar back onto the door. Richter heard a kick against the inside of the door, and the shack shuddered. Richter was in no mood for either games or invaders that wanted to have temper tantrums. He walked back up to the door and looked through one of the slats. The mercenary made eye contact and they stared at each other for a long moment. Richter started speaking in a soft voice, “Listen up shit bird. I hate rapists. I hate you in particular, so much, that if you kick that door again, I will burn out your left eye. You are one taint hair away, from having an eye patch as a permanent fashion accessory. So go ahead, open that dick hole you call a mouth again. See what happens.”

  Richter kept his voice even the entire time. Part of him wanted Orvin to challenge him and part of him didn’t. The part hoping for confrontation was thinking about how the mercenary deserved punishment. The part of Richter hoping that Orvin stayed quiet, was afraid that he might actually enjoy burning another man alive.

  Whatever Orvin saw in Richter’s eyes convinced the mercenary to back away from the wall and sit down on the damp straw. Richter watched the Warrior move away, and his own body shuddered slightly with unrealized violence and adrenaline. He took a deep calming breath before shaking his hands out twice and moving to the other shack. Randolphus and the other guard stared at their Lord with serious and cautious expressions.

  Richter told the guards to remove the other crossbar. The ball of light above his head followed him into the room. What greeted him wasn’t a defiant warrior though. The inhabitant of this guard shack was a waif of a girl. She was a blond haired woman of slight stature. Her brown shirt was too large for her and was cinched with a heavy belt at her waist, leaving the top loose. He could just make out a simple wooden necklace underneath. She was wearing brown hide leggings and matching brown moccasins. The young woman was sitting on her bed of straw looking up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

  He thought about what she must be thinking. She must have seen him through the walls. He had gone inside of the other shack for barely a minute before coming back out and threatening the man with beatings and food and water deprivation. Then she saw him threaten to maim a complete stranger just for kicking a wall in frustration. This all occurred only a few feet away from where she had been huddling down onto her straw pallet, probably hoping that the scary man wouldn’t come over to her shack as well.

  Richter immediately softened his expression and went down to one knee. He analyzed her so he would better know how to address her.

  Name: Natosca. Half-Wood Elf, Half-Human. Level 6. Health 130. Mana 110. Stamina 160. Racial blends are erratic in their disposition. They can end up with some or none of any of their parent races characteristics.

  Hmmm, Richter thought. Natosca was the second hybrid that he had run into. Maybe Yoshi could relate to her, but he would try first.

  “I apologize for just bursting in here so loudly. I also apologize for any ill treatment you have received since you were brought in by my hunters. Have you been mistreated?”

  “N-no, my Lord,” she stammered.

  “Please,” he said soothingly, “just call me Richter.” She was still cowering in the far side of the hut, so he lowered himself to ground, looking her in the eyes. “I heard what the mercenaries have done to you. I am so sorry. I want to explain what is going on here. My village suffered a brutal attack, less than a month ago. That is why security measures have been so harsh. I promise that soon we will escort you to the boundaries of the mist and release you. Is that what you would like?”

  She just nodded.

  “Is there anything else that you know about the mercenaries,” he asked her. “Are there more coming? Did they discuss the Count’s plans?”

  She shook her head and then started shaking more violently, “No, my Lord,” she said in a whisper. “For the first few days they didn’t say anything, and then after that… After that they would just take me one after another. Sometimes more than one at once!” She broke out in sobs that almost broke Richter’s heart. He half reached out to comfort her, but thought better of it. She probably didn’t want any part of a man’s touch right now, no matter how well intentioned. He stood to go, not wanting to bother the poor girl any further.

  “I’m sorry, but you will have to stay under guard until you are escorted out of the village, but I will have some better bedding and blankets brought to you.”

  He was walking out of the door when he heard her ask, “What will happen to the man that I was captured with?”

  Richter had already made that decision, so it was not a difficult question to answer. His voice was dark and heavy with meaning, “You won’t need to worry about him again.”

  The door closed and the crossbar was put back in place. He heard her crying softly inside of the hovel, and he hoped that they were tears of relief.

  CHAPTER 2

  Richter looked around. When he had first come back to the village, dawn was just breaking. His villagers had still been mostly asleep, but now the village had awoken and everyone was moving around. Word of his return seemed to spread like wildfire. More and more of his villagers came to greet him, some laughing, some cheering, but all decided to barrage him with questions. After five minutes, he could barely hear himself think. A gruff voice came to his rescue.

  “Get back, get back ya vultures! Let the man breathe! He didn’t fight through monsters for the past two weeks just to fight through you turkeys. Get back afore I knock ya into next week!”

  Krom, the newly appointed and official smith of the Mist Village, elbowed his squat and powerful body through the crowd. “I’m sorry about all of this yer Lordship,” the dwarf said loudly. “It seems everybody in this village has forgot they have jobs to do!” He looked around fiercely and most of the villagers backed away, cowed by the gruff blacksmith. Soon only Krom, Randolphus and a gnome were still around. Richter looked around for Terrod, but didn’t see him. It wasn’t overly surprising. The love of Terrod’s life was still recovering from an emotional trauma. Since the growth of the Quickening, she had been spending time beneath its boughs. Terrod said it was helping her to relax and hopefully heal. He was probably up there with her, in the meadow just north of the village.

  The gnome wasted no time speaking. “Lord Richter. I know that you planned to use the Magic Core to make a Forge, but that is a large mistake in my opinion! The Core should instead be used to make a Philosopher’s Crucible. We would be able to make the most powerful potions and powders in the River Peninsula. Perhaps one day, in the entire Land!”

  Taken aback by the impassioned speech coming from the gno
me, who Richter only vaguely remembered and recognized, he asked what seemed to be the most logical question, “Who are you again?”

  The wind seemed to be taken out the gnome’s sails as his shoulders slumped. Before he could answer, Krom interjected, “It don’t matter who he is, yer Lordship, and it don’t matter what you think, Beyan. I done told you fifty times over the past few weeks, if I told ya once! The Lord here has decided to make a Magic Forge!”

  Richter opened his mouth to add to the conversation, but Krom spoke up first. “And more than that! If his Lordship wasn’t going to make a Magic Forge, he wouldn’t waste a Magic Core on what is basically just a fancy way to make wine!” The dwarf started muttering to himself, “Probably couldn’t even make a decent ale with that cauldron thing, so what good is all yer potions and magicky elixirs?” His voice rose again as he clapped Richter on the shoulder. “You tell him your Lordship!”

  Richter opened his mouth to speak a second time, but again Krom started on a ranting discourse that focused on the foolishness of gnomes who couldn’t even be trusted to grow a beard. Beyan wasn’t some shrinking violet, though. He was puffing up his chest with the clear intent to start shouting down the dwarf, when Richter decided he had had enough. If he was being honest with himself, watching the two short men, one bespectacled and portly, the other muscle bound and bearded about to come to blows, Richter just wanted to shout, ‘Cripple Fight!!!’ The only reason he had let Krom’s tirade last as long as it had, was because in his mind he was trying to figure out which of them would say, ‘Tim-maaae.’

  It was time to get back to business though, and overbearing or not, Krom had a point. He put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth, curving both slightly and whistled sharply. The gnome and dwarf looked up at him surprised, seemingly having forgotten that he was even present. “Enough! Beyan, Krom is right. The production of quality arms and armor for our village is the primary concern. We must be able to defend ourselves.” Seeing the gnome’s crestfallen look, Richter decided to throw him a bone. “I am interested in this… Philosopher’s Cauldron, I believe you called it. Jot down the important points and get it to Randolphus here. He and I will discuss the idea and will decide its merit.”