I slept soundly through the night and even mustered up the courage to ask about the totem in the morning. I say ask, but it was more than he caught me staring at it, trying to decipher the runes and symbols, and add them to my repertoire.
“Stare as much as you wish, child. I doubt it will garner you much knowledge.” The wolf's deep bass voice pulled me out of my staring contest with the pole.
“It’s very intricate, and I like the animal motifs. I’m also thankful for not having to stand a watch. How does it work?” I knew questions about skills and abilities and the like were kind of taboo, but the guy probably hated me anyway, so it wasn't much of a loss.
“It works off of one of my skills. The totem is just a focus, and it harvests ambient mana to provide illusion and concealment spells.”
“Not a shield? I remember resting on something that felt solid.”
“That’s my skill.” Rogan added.
“Was funny see you fall. Like how you just accept it. Bulkin bang on it for four hours before I let him in. Was very funny.” He continued.
“I hope to have some awesome powers one day.” This apparently was a great joke because all of them laughed.
“You are a slave. Potential will always be out of reach, let alone awakening.”
“What’s an awakening?” I was playing super dumb.
“That's when someone pays the Awakeners Guild enough money to open up your Loci for aspecting.” Gorn added.
“You just said a lot of words that made no sense to me.”
“Hahaha…..You were stuck in a dungeon. So I will level with you. All of us were awakened at some point, and that gave us the ability to gain skills and powers. Those orbs you gave me that is the fuel for gaining more.”
“So I should have eaten them like you did?”
“Ha…no, that would have just made you draw more goblins in. Only awakened can cycle potential to gain powers. If you gain enough and are strong enough, you ascend.”
“And become like Shy?”
“Exactly. Now I could probably fight Shy.” Gorn continued.
“Even though she is way stronger than you?”
“She is, but she is a healer. I can do way more damage because I'm a fighter, even though I'm a tier lower. I would probably run out of fight before she could heal all the damage, though.”
“She would still win?”
“Healer easy to hurt, hard to kill.” Rogan was following our conversation.
“I would remind you that it is bad business to discuss a party’s abilities and prowess to anyone outside the party.” Shy had returned, and she was not pleased.
“M’lady Shy’rone.” I bowed and moved out of her way.
“Have great success?” Rogan asked her directly.
“We shall see.” She punctuated her reply with a very predatory look at me. If I was truly a mortal, and given all they said, I would have pissed myself at that look.
“Gorn stab him, please.”
“Stab who? The human? Why?”
“Yeah, why are we stabbing me? I would prefer not to be stabbed.”
“Evaluating my new skill. And you would do well to hold still. Gorn the stab please. Somewhere non-lethal.” Her tone was flat and academic. I was a science experiment for her new skill. This was about to be interesting.
Gorn hefted his axe and then decided against it. I was happy for that. His axe would probably cleave me in half, mithril or not. He pulled a fairly plain sword from his bag and gave it a quick appraising look. Seemingly satisfied, he began to advance on me.
Even if I could take the hit, I wasn’t about to do it. Pretending to be weak or not, it was about to get fucking bloody. I would gladly take a few weak ass shocks and the occasional light beating for the ruse, but the fuck if I’d let myself be gutted. I started to back away from Gorn as he stalked forward. I had hoped to see some sort of emotion on his face. Reluctance, guilt, confusion, something. Hell, I would have even taken cold, calculating business. I was reminded of who these people were. His eager look of desire showed that he wanted this. I was beginning to suspect that gutting was going to be if I was lucky.
I noticed the spear a moment too late. By that I mean I noticed as it entered by my lower back and out through my abs. Petior had snuck behind me and run me through with a simple wooden spear. It fucking hurt. I stood there in shock for a second before dropping to my knees. I had healing potions and was about to chug one when I noticed the precision of the stab. I had lost over half my vitality in one attack, but it wasn’t falling. The attack inflicted damage and was done. I figured I’d be at a quarter after I got it out.
“Thank you, Pete. Please remove it. Shy was pleased by his treachery. I was not.
“The royal fuck?” I wished for something wittier, but that was all I mustered as I fell forward onto my face. Yep, one quarter. I had to hold Ink back. I miscalculated their casual brutality. I understood it, though, testing an ability outside of combat was better than an unknown in combat, but to intentionally harm someone, without consent, just to test her new toy? That’s a level of evil there.
I felt the beam of warm light hit me and slowly arrest the wound. I could see my vitality rising, but a quick look over at Shy showed a different picture. She was straining. I bet my vitality was harder to heal, and I had way more health than a mortal. After five minutes, she finally broke the skill. She was covered in sweat and looked like she had bottomed out her many before she topped up my vitality. I, of course, was lying face down in the dirt. She had healed most of it, but I was willing to bet she seriously doubted that skill.
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“Hrmn….I expected it to be stronger. Is….is it damaged?” I was still just an “it” to her.
“He is still alive but will require more healing. I will attend to him.” Petior had come over to check on me, the backstabbing son-of-a-bitch.
I could hear him chanting and occasionally got a glimpse of a small talisman dangling just over my still-prone body. His healing was enough to top me off after about ten minutes. The effort looked enough to be taxing but not completely.
“Thanks…” I croaked to him. Looking at my blood puddle made me realize he hit a few areas that may have been vital. If I were a true mortal, I wondered what would have happened.
“It seems her new spell is not what she thought it was. A pity. A channeled Healing spell or ability is greatly prized.”
“It’s because he is worthless human trash. My magic is too good for him, that’s why it didn't work.” Shy’s explanation convinced no one, including herself. I suspected the reason was a difference between health and Outworlder vitality. I wasn't about to offer that up, though; no need to complicate things further.
I was standing up and working out the kinks of my freshly healed muscles when we heard a slight commotion outside. The cat-girl had returned.
I was faced with an issue I had purposefully avoided since coming here, Transposition. More specifically, Horses. I didn’t like horses. I wasn’t afraid of them, like, say, a common reaction to snakes. Or hate them, again, like snakes. I just disliked them. As a child, I had ridden them a few times until one trail ride. My rental horse, Billy, was what I assumed to be a fine horse. His coat was gray with a bunch of speckles, and he looked healthy. As a child, I was not given reins but was told to hang on to the saddle horn and enjoy the ride. As an adult, I realized this was so I couldn’t control the horse and inadvertently hurt either of us. As a child, I was ok with this because my parents were ok with this. About halfway up the side of a mountain, still below the treeline, Billy got bored and decided to go home. Home was at the base of this mountain and Billy chose the shortest route.
When the trail guide finally caught us, I was staring down off the edge of a forty-foot drop, mere inches from the edge. As a child, I thought this was a wild, fun ride. As an adult, I was surprised I was around to think at all and not a headstone. Horses are stupid, suicidal animals and are not to be trusted. I held hopes in my heart that other mount-type animals existed in this world. Why ride a plain ol’ horse when you can ride a tiger?
The beast people’s disdain for humans actually helped me for once. As Leyla came sauntering up upon her mighty steed, I was able to see that she only had four other mounts behind her. I wondered what poor soul I was going to have to ride double behind for however long it took to get somewhere. Or was I going to be the poor soul who had to walk or be trussed and draped like a saddlebag? We were all saved from this fate as a most amazing animal walked up behind the last horse. A straight-up donkey.
“A donkey!”
“A donkey?”
I was excited, and Shy’rone was confused. The cat actually looked hurt at my excitement, her insult wholly missing its mark.
“Mistress Leyla, thank you for the donkey! How did you know that I don’t like horses, though?”
“I believe it was meant as an insult. It would be beneath any of our stations to ride such a beast.” Petior chimed in as the voice of reason.
“Oh? I guess that makes sense. I’m ok with it though. I'm high and mighty, so riding a horse will be just fine on my ass.” I punctuated my statement by walking up and scratching the beast behind the ears. I took a quick look at the undercarriage and decided it was a she.
“Does she have a name?” I asked up at the still mounted Leyla.
“A name? Why would you name a donkey?” Her confusion told me I was missing at least some piece of pivotal information.
“How would you call her if not by a name?” I asked while hatching my next joke.
“Why would you need to call one? They are a nuisance.” Gorn butted in.
“Please tell me you didn’t pay gold for it.” Shy, the ever-penny-pinching, asked the mounted cat-girl.
“No, mistress. In fact, we received a discount because she seemed determined to follow the ticket horses.”
“Well done then. We shall leave within the hour. Unless you need a longer rest?” Shy’s tone made clear it wasn’t an actual question. I had a question, though.
“Hey Gorn! What’s your mother’s name?” All but one of my captors saw where this was going. Unfortunately, Gorn was one of us who knew and was tight-lipped. Rogan, on the other hand, was occupied in breaking down the camp and came in with the save.
“Gorn mother is Sersona—great bulkin leader. Great fighter. Should be minotaur soon.” His answers and the look of betrayal on Gorn’s face almost made me stop. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.
“Gorn is a great fighter, isn’t he? Isn’t he Ser…Sera……Sarah? Yeah, he’s a big, mean fighter like his mom. You aren’t a fighter, are you, Sarah? No, you’re just a good girl. Yeah, a good..gir….” I had been patting and scratching Sarah the donkey when I spoke the words. I braced for the tackle as it came.
Gorn was rightly pissed off. So pissed off that when he tackled me, he didn’t even feel the rune go in place beneath his hair. I absorbed the hit so that my hand went up onto his side, slipping right behind his breastplate. It was a perfectly out-of-view spot that wouldn't be seen. I could feel the rune go in with the technique that Ink and I had designed that very morning.
I was practicing the formation of runes and realized I would still have to etch it onto something or at least draw it with something, something I didn’t have. I felt the slightest of trills and felt Ink manifest on my arm. He formed a series of sigils across my forearm like the ones he applied beneath my eyes. I was confused about what he was getting at until a thousand needle-like tendrils poked out of the sigils. I got it then. Ink was showing me a tattoo. My only problem with that is I didn’t have tattoo ink or a gun. I also doubted that any of them would let me near them long enough to do it. How long did I actually need, though? My Instant Rune skill talked about forming runes quickly, and Inscribe Rune now had the ability to do it without tools. So quickly and without tools was solved, but what would I use as ink? Ink’s body dissipated too quickly to be effective for what I wanted, so it was out. I stared over at the remnants of the fire and found my answer, charcoal.
It was nothing to slip a chunk of the dark, black fired wood as I added logs to the fire for breakfast. It was even simpler to crush it in my hand, activating Thoughtful Destruction in the process. My menu confirmed that I had learned the material.
The Mark rune tattoo, created with charcoal ink, was almost invisible. It was covered by coarse dark hair on Gorn’s side. I hope it didn’t heal out. So as he got in a few shots after the tackle, I hid the smile on my face. In my aura vision, I could see the rune. I could also see the distinct shape it took, the same one that was on my amulet. Whatever it meant, he was marked with he same wavy lines and a triangle.
Now I needed one final piece of the puzzle. I had noticed the Mark rune on my collar when I first examined it. Initially, it confused me because it was the same rune as I had learned from Mord, but it had a unique shape. It never occurred to me that runes could have a different shape. All the ones I had dealt with so far were one shape. I could see the rune in both, and it was the same rune, but with a different purpose. I hadn’t really thought of runes as a concept before. I thought of them as just a different kind of spell. That was the same but different, which made me feel that runes were closer to concepts than spells. Concepts needed something more. A concept was the truth of a thing and a way of distilling something that could be abstract. What was a mark? It could literally be a magical Sharpie drawing to mark your opponent instead of drawing blood, but it could also be a way to mark a target. As that larger idea solidified in my head, I had felt the Mark rune change in my mind. I felt I could still draw with it, but I also now had a personalized version of it. I just needed a final piece.
A final piece that was on Gord’s belt. It was until it disappeared in a little black flash as we hit the ground. Pickpocket successful! At least I hoped nobody noticed it. I curled into the fetal position to receive my beating for mocking Gorn’s mother. I lay there long enough to focus on the trigger for my collar. I was getting better at ignoring pain and learning runes.
Runes Learned!
Rune: Unlock
Rune: Trigger
Rune: Track

