Chapter 42 (Patreon)

Day 1

“GET THE FUCK BEHIND ME!”

Rob pushed away the dumbshit elf who was gaping at the monster like a deer frozen in the headlights. The bat’s foot-long fangs missed the elf’s neck by inches, and Rob was too busy pushing him out of the way to get a proper counterattack off – his sword drawing no more than a thin papercut on the inside of its wing.

‘Identify’.

Name: Greater Bat
Level: 20
Status Effects: Thirsty
Description: A monster formed from tainted mana coalescing around the corpse of a dead bat. Actually, this is the first time you’ve fought a monster out of a Dungeon, isn’t it? They periodically spawn outside of a Dungeon every now and then. Not that you had time to worry about that until now; all those Infected animals certainly took precedence! By the by; the system hasn’t been making fun of you. I’m not sure why you would think that. That’s a very rude assumption. Would it help if it gave you a hug? Also, you probably have more important things to be doing than reading this. Look up.

A second giant bat landed on Rob’s head and bit him in the scalp. The hum of Power Slash mixed with the torrent of expletives spewing out of Rob’s mouth as he swung above and bisected the monster. Blood and organs spilled out of the creature and landed on top of his head and Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick.

Nausea distracted him for an instant, which was enough time for the first bat to swoop in close. Shock distracted him for another instant as, instead of clawing or biting at him, the bat wrapped its grubby mitts around his sword and yanked it out of Rob’s hand.

“Buh-, whuh-” Rob sputtered. “I just got that! Give it back!”

It snickered at him. Well, more likely it was using echolocation to map out the surroundings, but Rob interpreted it as a snicker and he wasn’t going to let logic tell him otherwise.

“If that’s how you want to play...” Rob opened his palm, summoned the Broken Dwarven Shortsword out of his Bound Items – which was apparently the same as an Inventory except not really – and cast Rampage, blasting forward at the monster like a bullet fired out of a gun.

Monsters didn’t have emotions outside of basic feral instincts. Rob knew this. He also knew that he had a recurring habit of misattributing human characteristics to things that didn’t have them. With all of that said, he would have bet good money that the bat’s last thoughts as its snicker faded and its face froze were ‘I fucked up.’

Rob jammed the Broken Shortsword into its forehead, piercing straight through to the brain. Headsman made it easier, but even without its damage bonus the blow would have been fatal. Going from fighting giant Infected anywhere from 5 to 20 Levels above him to random overgrown bats in the forest felt like a pro baseball player joining a Little League game.

Passive Skill Learned!
Name: Dagger Proficiency
Prerequisite: Dexterity 10, defeat at least one worthwhile opponent while using a dagger or a knife
Description: Become more proficient with sharp-edged, bladed weapons with the shape and weight of a dagger or knife.

Reached Level 24!
5 Stat Points Gained!

Berserker Level Increased! 16 → 17

There was no increase for Crystal Bearer despite the Class being at Level 1, and he had no idea when that would change. If focusing on the required EXP for his personal Levels and Class Levels was like looking at a filling bucket of water, then Crystal Bearer’s bucket was being covered up with a curtain every time he tried to check.

Rob put his newly-gained stat points into Magic before Mana Exhaustion overtook him. While it may not affect him as badly as the others, it was hardly a pleasant sensation to endure. Rob was still pulling his Broken Shortsword out of the bat when a third one flew in from the side, mouth wide open and on a collision course for his left arm. It was moving too quickly for him to dodge in time.

Rob considered his options. Not A Scratch was up, and his recent spike in Vitality had upgraded it enough that it could be used every six hours. Alternatively, he could tank the hit and Lifesurge the wound away afterwards – it was also on a six hour cooldown.

He chose neither. The bat sunk its fangs in deep, shredding muscle and flesh as it dealt 109 Piercing damage. Rob let it savor its last meal a moment before cutting its head open with the Broken Shortsword in one motion.

Dagger Proficiency Level Increased! 1 → 2

Guess it makes sense that the Shortsword is more of a Dagger at this point. He dismissed the Broken Shortsword and kept his back to the elves, waiting until the dopamine grin of Leveling High had faded before he turned to face them. The procession recoiled as he walked forward, the bat still hanging from his arm. Rob stopped in front of the elf he’d pushed away and narrowed his eyes.

“You see this?” Rob held up his arm and shook it. The bat’s head flopped back and forth like a bobblehead. “This is a monster. It almost took your head off. Were you or were you not informed that this field trip of ours would be dangerous?”

The elf stammered. Rob felt an iota of guilt for making an example of him, but if it would save their lives then he could stand being a bit of a dick. “I’m sorry, Sir Blightkiller,” the elf eventually said. “I didn’t see it coming.”

“THEN PAY ATTENTION!” Rob directed his shout at every elf in the nearby vicinity. All of them, the young and the old and everything in between, flinched back at his outburst. “There are 7000 of you fuckers and 50 of us Combat Class users. That means that each one of us has to be responsible for 140 of you. Do you honestly think I’m capable enough of keeping watch on all of you at the same time?”

He looked back at the elf he’d pushed aside, who grimaced in shame. It was weird, having the power and authority to chastise a seemingly middle-aged man – which meant he was like 200 or some shit – but if it worked, it worked.

“If I had been a single foot farther away from you, then your life would have been cut short by a freaking bat of all things. I’m not a Healer, and don’t expect that I’ll be able to get you to one in time should anything happen. I’ll fight for you where I can, when I can, but you have to work with me here. That involves keeping an eye out for any dangers coming out of the woods, and making sure you don’t screw up so badly that this happens to me.”

Rob held up his arm in front of the crowd and yanked the bat out of it. Blood poured out of the two holes it had inflicted and dripped onto the grass, staining purple with red. The wound was worse than it looked – Lifesteal had somewhat patched it up, and Platelet Party and Regeneration would see to the rest in short order – but it inspired the effect he’d hoped for. Most of the elves had gone pale, and more than one looked ready to faint.

“You’ll be okay, won’t you?” The elf he’d singled out, who Rob finally decided to Identify as Cyrus, had taken on a pleading tone. “They said you had more Vitality than any sane person should. What about your self-healing abilities? Or damage mitigation?”

Freaking gossips. The nebulous ‘they’ strikes again. “I do have several Skills that could heal or have outright nullified this damage,” Rob said. “The thing is: they can only be used once every six hours. What would happen if I wasted them on chump change bats, and then an hour later, a Level 40 Behemoth comes screaming out of the trees? They exist. I’ve fought them. How many of you would die if I wasn’t at my best when and if the real threats arrive?”

The gnawing feeling of guilt eating away at Rob had reached critical mass as the elves’ expressions grew a little too pathetic for him to bear. He’d given them the stick; time for the carrot.

“I’m just trying to keep you alive,” Rob said, in a calmer tone. “That’s all. I’ll do everything I can, but I’m only one man. I won’t expect any of you to fight, but staying on your guard and keeping a close eye on our surroundings? I think that’s fair to ask. And I believe that each and everyone one of you is up to the task.”

Leadership Level Increased! 1 → 2

Huh, Rob thought, as he received a round of nods in return. Sure, I’ll take it.

–

Day 2

Rob sprinted as fast as he could around the edge of the procession. He passed by one group, two, three, four – until finally, he reached his destination. He sucked in air through his teeth as he saw her; the Ranger’s entire left leg had been bitten off at the knee. It was a testament to her fortitude that she wasn’t screaming bloody murder. Her face was stoic as the nearby civilians did their best to bind her wounds and staunch the bleeding, but the tension in her muscles and the way her lips quivered showed just how much agony she was in.

Party List. Rob kicked out the healthiest elf and sent a quick Invite to the injured Ranger laying in front of him. The woman – named Lycia – accepted the Invitation. While the immediate effect was small, the rate of the blood spurting out of the stump of her leg slowed down as a portion of Platelet Party and Regeneration were passed onto her through the EXP Share. Lycia relaxed slightly and glanced at him with one eye, the other screwed shut in pain.

“My thanks, Blightkiller.” She grimaced, letting out a sigh of resignation. “I was...careless. Fuck. Mother always did say I should have been a Seamstress.” Lycia barked out a harsh laugh. “This is the end of my days as a Ranger, I suppose.”

“Don’t count yourself out just yet,” Rob said. “One of my Passive Skills lets me regrow limbs. It takes 24 hours for me, so for you it might take up to a few days, but I’m confident you’ll be back on your feet. Literally.”

Glimmering hope returned to her eyes. “That’s – that’s astounding. Your Vitality must be-”

“I know. Just get some rest, okay? You’ll be taken good care of in the medical pavilion at the center of the convoy.”

Lycia nodded. “Of course. I must admit that it’s galling to be the first Ranger to be injured in such a way. The others will have to expand outward to cover up the hole in the defenses that will be left by my absence. I can only hope that I’ll be able to make up for my shortcomings when I return to my post after recovering from these wounds and healing exhaustion.”

Rob nodded alongside her, keeping his poker face nice and secure. The EXP Share made him one of the most valuable ‘healers’ in the procession, which meant he was often called on when someone was injured and the actual Healers needed to conserve their mana. Normally, he kept the ranger trainees in his Party – except for Vul’to, who kept refusing for whatever reason – but the other slots were filled with those who had need of Regeneration and whatever other Vitality buffs he could give them.

So he had an intimate knowledge of what was happening at every end of the procession, and didn’t have the heart to tell Lycia that they’d already lost three Rangers and seventeen civilians that day.

–

Day 3

“How are you faring?” Orn’tol asked as he sat next to Rob. The elves had stopped for the night, which afforded the Rangers a bit more leeway to spread around, take a breather, and check in on their friends. For his part, Rob had just finished making his rounds and doling out Stored supply crates to those who needed them, and was ready to get some well-earned R&R. He considered Orn’tol’s question for a moment before giving a noncommittal shrug.

“As good as anyone else is, I suppose.” They’d lost one Ranger and seven civilians today, which was an improvement over yesterday. It didn’t quite feel like a cause for celebration. Rob himself had managed to protect his own batch of miscreants and leveled up to Level 25 in the process. He’d put one extra stat point into Magic out of lingering spite and spread the remaining points between Strength, Dexterity, and Perception. Between the fighting and hitting some stat milestones, he’d leveled a bevy of Skills including Swordsmanship, Dagger Proficiency, Power Slash, Bulk Up, Step of the Wind, Fleet of Foot, and Leadership.

“Glad to hear that you’re holding in there. I myself am faring as well as can be expected.”

“Cool, cool. You heard from any of the others?”

“A little,” Orn’tol replied. “Vul’to continues to be reticent. The last I saw of Keira and Zamira, they were engaged in an impassioned discussion about the merits of different kinds of swords.”

Rob grinned. “That sounds like them. Also, ‘impassioned’? You’ve been working hard on your Common.”

Orn’tol smiled back. “I’ve been practicing.”

A beat passed.

“Sooo...” Rob began. “Are you going to introduce me or am I supposed to keep pretending she doesn’t exist?”

The little girl next to Orn’tol stood to her feet in a flash. “I’ll introduce myself,” she stated. “My name is Malika. Orn’tol’s sister, and future mage extraordinaire.” She raised his hand. “I never got the chance to thank you for keeping my brother safe during his ill-fated Dungeon Crawl.”

Rob smiled and accepted the High-Five. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Orn’tol.”

Malika smiled back, but hers was wider and with much more teeth. “Have you, now? Only good things, I assume?”

Orn’tol looked ill. A chill fell over the air.

“Only good things,” Rob reassured. “He sings your praises at every turn.”

Deception Level Increased! 1 → 2

Diplomacy Level Increased! 8 → 9

Holy crap, what minefield did I just avoid stepping in?

Malika nodded, soaking in the praise like a happy sponge. “Very good. Now, while I have your attention, I wanted to ask a request of you. Once we reach Reviton City, could you consider adding me to your Party with the rest of the trainees? I’d love to take advantage of Fast Learner so I can get a head-start on my Mage training.”

Rob tried to find a gentle way to let her down – he wasn’t ever going to set foot in Reviton – but stopped when Diplomacy flat-out told him to fudge the truth. “I’ll consider it, because you’re Orn’tol’s sister, but I think my services will be in high demand. Why would you need it, anyway? You won’t be fighting anytime soon.”

Her eyes twinkled with desire. “That remains to be seen. Either way, Fast Learner will make practicing my Skills more efficient. I would just adore being able to show up to my first spellcaster lesson with Skill Levels equal to my teachers – no, higher than my teachers.”

Rob whistled. “You’ve got a lot of ambition, don’t you?”

“Thank you,” she said, beaming. “I’ve already proven them wrong by practicing magic on my own with no adverse effects. A second victory would make the first all the sweeter.”

“Well, if everything pans out, it might actually be fun helping you show up some stuffy old dudes. That’s always an entertaining pastime. I’ve been putting some points into Magic recently, so I’ll be sure to inform you if I get any Passives that increase MP regeneration or something along those lines. Would let you shoot off even more spells to grind your Skills with. Oh, and Regeneration would help heal any wounds you might get from practicing, so while I strongly recommend you still be careful, that affords you a bit more leeway in experimentation.”

He glanced at Orn’tol. “You okay? Why do you look like someone walked on your grave?”

–

Day 5

“No no no NO NO NO!”

Ron activated Step of the Wind, felt the last tick of Dexterity increase as Battle Fury maxed out, and moved his feet harder than he ever had before. It wasn’t enough. The screams outran him, vanishing into the distance.

The scenario he’d been dreading had come to pass. A Level 35 Infected Tiger had blindsided them; it was only by the eyes and ears of one particularly Perceptive civilian that they got any warning at all. Rob had put himself in-between the Infected and the civilians, making himself a target like he’d done every time before, and the beast leaped straight over his hand, landing right in the middle of a shrieking buffet table.

The phrase ‘letting a fox into a henhouse’ didn’t do what followed justice. Two elves were dead in the blink of an eye, their throats effortlessly torn out with an almost contemptuous ease. A couple of the higher-level civilians – by which that meant they were the slightly older Little League players – poked at the tiger with old spears that had been scooped out of some dusty warehouse in the Village. Their plan worked; that is, if their plan was to tickle it and draw its attention away from the others. Rob would never get the chance to ask, as they were sent to visit their ancestors in Lothren’s Hallowed Halls less than a second later.

Rob tried to get there in time. He really did. Using Rampage to get in close wasn’t an option; other civilians were in the way, and he’d just crash into them like a ball thrown through a glass window. It might still have been preferable. The alternative ended up being him watching in horror as the image of civilians torn to bloody ribbons seared itself into his brain.

Finally, the way was clear. Rampage shot him forward with a stab aimed at the tiger’s head as he tried to end the fight before it began. The Infected beast glared at him with bulging, bloodshot eyes and jumped straight into the attack, Rob’s elven sword slicing through part of the beast’s neck as its claws shredded Rob’s torso from top to bottom.

No fair, Rob had thought, as he sprawled to the ground and coughed up blood. That’s my strategy.

The fight from then on devolved into a game of cat and mouse as two heavily injured opponents sized each other up, taking quick potshots meant to bait the other into overcommitting. There was some measure of bestial cunning lying beneath the tiger’s twitching, Frenzied eyes; either it hadn’t been Infected as badly as the others, or the Blight’s passing had lessened the Infection’s hold on the tiger’s psyche.

Either way, it worked in Rob’s favor, as a drawn-out fight was exactly what he wanted. It gave time for Regeneration and Platelet Party to stem his wounds as Battle Fever built up bit by bit. Despite how bad he looked on the outside, what with the blooded clothes and ravaged flash, Rob was in what he considered to be an ideal situation. He had around half his HP left, which meant Blood for Blood’s damage boost was maxed at its sweet spot – and he wanted to put out as much damage as possible before anyone else got hurt. Unlike him, the tiger wasn’t shrugging off his injury; being a giant Level 35 Infected didn’t give you carte blanche to completely ignore gaping neck wounds. And his aces in the hole, Not A Scratch and Lifesurge, were cards that he had yet to play.

He was terrified, of course. Shaking and panting and sweating as adrenaline coursed through him. A beast out of nightmares stood before him, and if it had its way, he would end up with all his guts on the outside of his body, baking in the sunlit rays. Rob had to face down a misshapen apex predator three times his size, his blood still dripping off of its claws, and stand his ground against both the beast and his own monkey hindbrain telling him to get the fuck out of there.

But despite everything, he was going to win. He knew that.

The elves did not.

What they saw was their protector getting savaged as he put his life on the line to save theirs. And so it was that one brave soul snuck up behind the Infected and jammed his spear straight into the beast’s haunch.

A moment later, that brave soul was clamped inside the tiger’s mouth, screaming his lungs out as the tiger bounded off into the distance with its prey in hand.

Rob gave chase. It wasn’t enough. He could dance with the creature at close range, keep it on its toes, but in a straight sprint he was nowhere near as fast. Step of the Wind‘s buff faded away, the tiger’s retreating figure faded over the horizon, and the elven man’s screams faded into the wind.

The last thing Rob was able to pick up with his Heightened Senses was a crunch as the remnants of the screams abruptly cut out.

He might have stood there forever, staring into a comforting emptiness where reality did not have to be addressed, if not for the wails of the bereaved snapping him back to reality. Rob returned to the procession and discovered that the wailing belonged to Cyrus, the elf that he had scolded on the first day. Cyrus had knelt over one of the ruined corpses, his tears shedding freely onto a lifeless face. Rob has no idea what their relation was; friend, brother, husband. Didn’t matter. The pain told the story.

Five days. They’d managed to go that long without losing anyone from their group of 140. And now?

Five deaths in five minutes.

–

Day 7

“Who’s injured?” Rob said in a forceful monotone. He gave the Party List a once-over and grimaced; he already had 7 wounded, and none would be too happy if he had to replace them for someone who needed Regeneration and Platelet Party more. It had been a long time since he’d had the luxury of keeping any of Rob’s Rangers on the list; his Party had been a revolving door triage system since the middle of the third day.

Elder Duran blinked at his muted outburst. “What? No, nothing like that.” He laid a hand on Rob’s shoulder. “You can relax. Please do.”

Rob closed his eyes for a moment. Visions of shredded civilians, dying Rangers, and people he was just a second too late to save flashed through his thoughts. When the video reached its end, his mind hit rewind and prepared to play it all over again.

“Sure,” he answered, opening his eyes. “I’ll relax. What do you need me for?”

Duran looked at him, opened his mouth to say something, and ended up sighing. “I wanted to give you a warning.”

What kind of warning? Rob mused. About the Infected and monsters that won’t stop coming out of the trees? About how we’re down to 40 Rangers and have lost over 150 civilians? About how the mounting injuries are starting to outpace my EXP Share benefits and the Healers’ capacity to keep up with the wounded? About how one guy who had Stored supplies in me died, and it resulted in his personal supply crate being immediately ejected from my Inventory and landing on my god damn big toe? About how-

“Should you ever get into a battle with a member of the five races – elves or otherwise – I want you to exercise extreme caution,” Duran cautioned. “It may not go as smoothly as fighting monsters and Infected have.”

Rob blinked. “I mean, I appreciate the heads-up, but ‘be careful when fighting people’ is a concept I was already aware of. Also: did you just say these fights have been going smoothly?”

“Compared to how they should have?” Duran replied, in a severe tone. “Yes. Smoothly. I am aware that you have no inherent frame of reference, so it can be easy to forget – especially since you spend so much time with Keira – but you must remain aware that the caliber of the enemies you’ve fought and the speed of your own personal growth have been prodigiously absurd. No one goes from Level 1 to Level 26 in a month and a half, Rob. With or without Fast Learner. You’ve achieved this feat by repeatedly surviving and killing enemies far above your Level, and that is to be commended, but I don’t want you to come away with the impression that it’s normal. Not remotely so.”

He folded his arms. “Frankly, I’m astonished that you’re still alive. Divine Intervention may be the most plausible theory for how you are.”

No. You’re on your own.

It took every ounce of willpower Rob had to keep his cool in front of Elder Duran. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

The Elder scratched his chin. “Well, regardless, the point I’m getting at is that you shouldn’t assume that you will always be able to pull victories out of the ether against higher-Leveled opponents. Especially against Elves or Dwarves or any other sapient. Your inflated stat totals may help close the gap, but your enemies will have significantly greater combat knowledge and expertise than you. The kind that no degree of Skill Levels can truly replicate.”

“So what you’re saying is my strength is artificial and undisciplined while theirs is battle-tested and earned?”

“I didn’t mean to come across as that way,” Elder Duran said, in a tone that implied he was about to commence Olympic-level backpedaling.

“It’s not something I took offense to.” The only thing I disagree with is the implication that the high-Level elves’ strength *isn’t* artificial. I’d like to see any of these scrubs keep up a consistent weight training schedule for years straight when there’s not any Level or Skill upgrades waiting as a reward. “I do have to ask, though: why are you warning me about how to fight against non-Infected? It’s coming across as a tad foreboding.”

Elder Duran gave him a hollow smile. “Just a precaution. After all, we will arrive at Reviton City in no more than a week.”

–

Day 8

“You motherfucker,” Rob grumbled as he glared at his Character Sheet.

Name: Do Not Go Gently (LV 3) (RARE)
Prerequisites: Vitality 80, Go through three Near-Death Experiences, Exhibit the Unyielding Will to Survive.
Description: When HP falls below 25%, double Vitality and double the effectiveness of all defense and Vitality-based skills, with the exception of Lifesurge.
Duration: 2 Minutes.
Cooldown: 10 Minutes.

‘With the exception of Lifesurge’. It didn’t say that before! Rob made sure his thoughts sounded appropriately vexed, directing them at whatever voyeur creepazoid almighty being was listening in. Don’t just slap a disclaimer on the thing! If it’s glitched, fix it!

The core workings of Skills cannot be changed after at least one recipient has learned them. Such are the rules.

Then bend the rules!

Take 1 point of Mind as compensation and quit your bellyaching.

I see how it is, Rob seethed. The mask has come off now that I’m calling you out on your BS and lasted longer than you wanted me to. Fine. Don’t know why I expected anything from you in the first place.

The nearby civilians edged away from their stalwart protector, who – from their perspective – was making angry faces at the sky. While it put them slightly on edge, it was hardly the first time he’d done so, and they were mostly used to it by now. The Human’s flight of fancy would pass soon enough.

–

Day 10

He was Level 27 now.

Wasn’t worth losing three more of his civilians to an ambush set by Infected Snakes. Or 229 total in the expedition thus far. Or seven more Rangers over the last few days, leaving thirty-two remaining. Or Zamira having been on the brink of death after defending her charges to her last breath, being saved at the very last second by a timely Healer.

But he was Level 27. Hooray.

In a cruel irony, his antipathy made warding off the joy of Leveling High much more difficult. Positive vibes were running on short supply, and Leveling High was presenting itself as a tasty alternative. I need some good news or I’m going to lose my mind.

That was when he spotted Keira running towards him. Having abandoned her post. Okay, time for the bargaining phase: I’ll also accept news that isn’t catastrophically terrible.

“You need to hide,” Keira hissed once she got close. The civilians were staring at her in bewilderment, but she ignored their gazes and focused her attention entirely on him. “Advance scouts from Reviton are approaching fast and heading towards this area of the procession. Elder Alessia is coming to intercept, but-”

She was interrupted by the sight of Alessia flying in from the side. Rob couldn’t help but be impressed at how she weaved through the forest at a speed that kicked up gusts of winds trailing behind her. One wrong move and she would have pancaked herself into a tree trunk, but her confidence was justified by how quickly she arrived, and without a scratch on her. Elder Alessia took one look at Rob, rolled her eyes, and waved her hand at him.

Robw was thrown about fifteen feet up and over into the crowd of civilians. Whatever telekinesis weirdness that Alessia used didn’t hurt him, but it disorientated him enough that he wasn’t prepared to land on his feet. Sadly, Elatra’s very first mosh pit did not take place that day: the elves backed away as Rob landed hard on his tailbone. He tried to sit up, but a nearby elf gently pushed him back down into his impromptu hiding spot, pressing one vertical finger to her lips in the interdimensional sign language for ‘Be quiet, dumbass’.

About thirty seconds later, and by straining his ears, Rob was able to make out horses approaching in the distance. He couldn’t tell how many, and he didn’t dare poke his head out above the crowd to check, but there were at least several. The horses stopped close by, and their riders dismounted one by one.

“Are you the leader of this rabble?” A commanding male voice asked.

Oh my god, Rob thought, with shock and horror. Someone actually said ‘rabble’. Good thing Keira is here or she never would have believed me.

“I am one of two Elders who are leading our citizens to Reviton,” Elder Alessia replied. Hearing her ‘diplomatic voice’ instead of her ‘ugh, a Human’ voice was messing with Rob’s head even more than the Rabble Guy. “Our Village was set upon by countless animals infected by a terrible malaise. It has fallen, and we bring urgent tidings not just to the Seneschal, but to all of Ela-”

“Ah,” the commanding male voice interrupted. “An Elder. We were warned about you.”

A quiet pause with the weight of a sledgehammer fell upon everyone.

“Warned?” Alessia parroted. “Why in the world would you have to be warned of us?”

“Let me answer your question with one of mine,” the voice replied. From the distance Rob was at, he could barely hear the shing of a sword being drawn from its sheath.

“Where is the Human?”

--

Changes, Character Sheet, and Skills List:

https://pastebin.com/0WYh4k3F

Backup link as pastebin wasn't working for everyone:

https://ctxt.io/2/AACgzsKBFg

Thanks for reading!