In Loki's Honor

Darkness was about to claim that place.

It was the winter solstice. A rare night that only happens once every twelve years. All of them shone upon the world, their light combining into the faintest hues of blue and green. Ayla, the white, Vester the blue, and Sylvis the green. The moons danced, dimming the light of the stars and piercing the veil between the mystic and the mundane.

In some ancient ruins, a cabal of cultists chanted around a ritual circle drawn with mortal blood. They wished to pierce the veil between worlds, to bring forth destruction. The third Demon Lord's summoning was taking place.

They would've done that earlier, but for centuries the barrier between here and there remained strong. Not today. They brought great sacrifices. Heroes. Murderers. Children. They all bled on the altar of destruction, in honor of their dark god.

The sacrifices screamed and struggled, their bound bodies bleeding on the circle. When the ritual finally reached its high point with the concentration of the Dark God's divine magic and the veil to where the third Demon Lord waited was almost pierced, they brought her. The elf princess. Her swollen belly showed they would get two Royal souls for the price of one.

They raised the ritual dagger and stabbed the mother's heart, drawing the precious blood. Then another stab, in the belly, bursting the waters and piercing the baby inside. The Cultists were ready to give their lives and raised their own daggers, piercing their hearts.

The Dark God, watching from his divine realm, sensed that things went wrong. He screamed. "No!"

The gathered divine energy all coalesced at one point. The belly of the elf princess. It all spiraled toward the unborn child and vanished, imploding the ruins and causing the building to fall deep beneath the earth.

All the effort recruiting, converting, training generations of cultists, preparing the ritual, gathering the sacrifices, and executing it was lost. Some of the power the Dark God invested in his minions also vanished.

That night, the veil remained unpierced. The third Demon Lord would have to wait.

My next life was barely starting, the memories flooding me when the windows popped with a glaring alert.

EMERGENCY ACTIVATION: You are mortally wounded.

You are an Elf [Star]. Your species is uncommon.

As an Elf[Star], you gain,

1 Attribute point per level.

1 Dexterity every odd level.

1 Mind every even level.

1 Magic every fifth level.

3 HP per level

2 MP per level

0 (+2) SP per level.

1 perk every 3 levels.

You gained the Woodland Affinity (uncommon) perk. You are at home in a wooded environment. Natural predators ignore you unless you attack. Your furtivity Skills increase a rank against Monsters while in a wooded environment.

Another message popped right after the first one.

You died.

Fucking ominous. I hadn't even left my mother's womb yet.

The dark energies of death around you gathered in your body.

You are now undead. Your species changed to Banshee. Your species is rare.

As a Banshee, you gain,

1 Attribute point per level.

1 Willpower every odd level.

1 Charisma every even level.

1 Mind every fourth level.

1 Magic every fourth level.

3 HP per level

4 MP per level

0 (+2) SP per level.

1 perk every 3 levels.

You gained the Incorporeal (physical, rare) trait. Your body is incorporeal. You are immune to attacks with normal weapons and magical attacks deal only their magical damage.

You gained the Drain Longevity (very rare) perk. You feed on the longevity of the living. For every minute you touch a living sentient creature, you drain 1% of their lifespan and gain sustenance for as many months as they lost years.

You gained the Wail of the Banshee (very rare) perk. You can scream as an attack, stunning targets in front of you.

You gained the Blight Healing (rare) perk. Staying on blight heals you for 20% of the damage.

You gained the Spread Blight (rare) perk. You spread the blight naturally in places where you stay for a long time. The speed of propagation depends on your MP pool.

Your traits that require a physical form are blocked. Due to your previous choices, they will stay blocked.

Attribute points above the cap have been redistributed.

Pain. Hunger. Anguish. The screams of sacrificial victims. I was dead and the dead remained close to me. We were buried under the earth. I couldn't think, I couldn't feel. I couldn't talk to Nenandil. My memories were a jumbled mess. I had no idea who I was. Or for how long my torment lasted.

I could pass through the rubble, but it felt like crossing a block of jello. I was barely conscious. All I felt was endless hunger. I crossed the rubble and entered some tunnels. They looked like a natural cave. In search of food, I walked down these tunnels.

Endless tunnels.

Painful hunger.

I came across some food. I don't know what kind. I ate it. The hunger dimmed for a brief moment. Then it was gone. I had some System notifications but I couldn't even see them. I moved. I hunted. I fed. One day, after an eternity of wandering, I found a decent morsel.

I think I remember screaming. I think, yes. Someone screamed. Then nothing. I fed and I came to myself.

I had a dead dwarf in my hands. He looked old, frail, and desiccated. Why did I have a dead old dwarf in my hands?

But the hunger was low enough now that I could think. Yes. I remembered who I was. My past lives. They were blurred. And I had a notification. I pulled them to read.

You killed level 17 Goblin. You gained 8,814 Exp. (Base 2,890 x 3,05 modifiers).

...

You killed level 21 Goblin. You gained 13,450 Exp. (Base 4,4100 x 3,05 modifiers).

You killed level 33 Dwarf. You gained 33,214 Exp. (Base 10,890 x 3,05 modifiers).

Your Experience is unassigned. You currently have 156,099 Exp. Stored Exp above the limit. Assigning.

You reached Banshee level 11.

You gained 11 Attribute Points.

You gained 6 Willpower.

You gained 5 Charisma.

You gained 2 Mind.

You gained 2 Magic.

You gained 33 HP.

You gained 44 MP.

You gained 22 SP.

You gained 3 Banshee Perks.

Attributes above the cap have been redistributed.

Damn. I was the one that killed the dwarf. By his outfit and tools, he was a miner. I checked the other notifications. I was a banshee. An undead elf. A keening spirit that announces the dead. A gatekeeper to the beyond. Or in a twisted distortion, an undead that hunts the living to feed off of their lives.

I'm sorry, brave dwarf. I'm sorry you met me at my worst. I put the dwarf body in my storage. I need to use the little time his sacrifice bought me to find a place where I can feed without killing. Since I drain years out of people's lives, I need a place that has a lot of magic to sustain me.

But first, I need to check if there's something to help me keep my sanity. How are my Attributes and resources?

I'm a spectral undead and my physical perks are locked. No were-cat banshees, the System decreed. I won't spend on my physical Attributes, they seem to grow on their own with the leftovers from my mental ones.

Curious, I put seven on Luck to max it out.

You gained the Pinnacle of Luck (ultra-rare) perk. You reached the mortal maximum for the Luck Attribute. Whenever faced with a completely random choice, you have twice the odds of choosing the best outcome. The odds of receiving a critical hit are halved unless you are immobile. When you find a treasure or harvest a resource, there's a small chance it will be better than what it should be.

Not bad. Not bad. The other four points went to Magic.

Perks. Perks that lessen lethality and let me go longer without feeding. I was disgusted at the list. There was a fuckton of perks to increase my lethality and even those to make me so horrific people would lose their lifeforce just by looking at me. EWWW. I passed a dozen of them to finally find something that was useful.

You gained the Keening (rare) perk. Your keening and lamentations inspire dread on the living, warning them of danger and making them wary of approaching. If they do try to enter the place where they heard your keening, they will be less likely to ignore the danger and will suffer combat penalties. Charisma-based, resisted by Willpower and Ego.

You gained the Phase Defense (very rare) perk. Attacks and spells that can hurt you have a 20% chance of passing through you without causing harm.

You gained the Sense Living Sentients (very rare) perk. You can concentrate for a second to sense living sentients around you at a range of Mind x 10 meters.

I opened the Skill list to find it empty. Banshees do not gain Skills.

My profession slots were also blacked out. All that I needed to do was to find the Class selection. I won't bother reproducing them. They were all dread, dreary, and deadly. I didn't want none of them. I found one entry that tugged my heartstrings. And by the way, the [Null and Void] offer was there, but no [True Hero]. Maybe because the undead can't be heroes.

Undead Bard (rare). Sometimes an undead creature retains memories of the time spent living are so deep and precious they keep their sanity. With a talent for music, the Undead Bard's songs are heartbreaking and eerily beautiful.

As an Undead Bard, you gain,

1 Attribute point per level

1 Charisma every odd level

1 Mind every even level.

1 Willpower every fourth level.

1 Magic every fourth level.

2 HP every level.

3 MP every level.

0 (+2) SP every level.

6 Skill points every level.

1 perk every three levels.

You reached Undead bard level 10.

You gained 10 Attribute Points.

You gained 5 Charisma.

You gained 5 Mind.

You gained 2 Willpower

You gained 2 Magic

You gained 20 HP

You gained 30 MP

You gained 20 SP

You gained 60 Skill Points.

Attributes above the cap redistributed.

I dumped all my points in Magic, the only Attribute where I could still spend points.

Level 11 Banshee / 10 Undead Bard

Strength: 11 - Dexterity: 14 - Endurance: 11

Mind: 12 - Willpower: 12 - Charisma: 14

Magic: 68 / 100

Ego: 86? ~ 87? / 100 - Luck: 100 - Soul: 100

HP: 9,270

MP: 8,732

SP: 20,643

Perks and Skills. An undead bard had its share of deadly, poisonous, and necromantic perks. I focused on musical ones.

You gained the Bardic Magic Affinity (rare) perk. You have a natural affinity for bardic magic. Double the rate of learning for the Skill and halves the cost of bardic spells.

You gained the Heal the Other Side (very rare) perk. Your healing can affect those on the other side of the death veil.

You gained the Song of Peace (rare) perk. You learned how to weave the Concept of peace into your songs. Creatures that hear you sing are less propensity to violent acts unless they are currently being attacked. Affected people know they are being affected and do not lower their guard. Based on Charisma, resisted by Charisma.

You gained the Bardic Magic (rare) Skill. You can weave magic into your songs.

You gained the Melody (uncommon) Skill. You can elaborate melodies, sequences of musical notes that spell musical phrases.

You gained the Harmony (uncommon) Skil. You can compose several sounds in a pleasant way.

You gained the Musical Rhythm (uncommon) Skill. You understand how different rhythms convey different emotions and have a stronger sense of time and beat.

You gained the Musical Texture (uncommon) Skill. You can combine tempo, melodic, and harmonic materials into a composition,

You gained the Musical Instrument Crafting (rare) Skill. You can apply your knowledge of woodworking and music to create tuned musical instruments.

You gained the Polyphonic Voice (very rare) Skill. You can spend MP to create several distinct musical notes with your voice.

You gained the Project Voice (rare) Skill. You can spend MP to extend the distance people can hear your voice by Rank x Charisma x 1%

You gained the Sustain Instrument (rare) Skill. Your musical instrument can sustain notes longer.

You gained the Second Melody ( very rare) Skill. When playing your instrument, you can spend MP to play two melodies at once.

You gained the Countersong (rare) Skill. Spend MP and play a song to counter sound-based effects in an area.

It was a silver lining. I could now sing better than an elf. Well, I was an elf. Undead, spectral, but an elf. My status page had a glaring "undead" on lifespan. I walked - no, haunted - the tunnels, in search of safe magical sources so I don't need to hunt the living breathing thinking denizens of this world.

Did that make me a vegan undead? I didn't know, but I was clinging to my songs and the hope I wouldn't need to commit mass murder for once.

But as I went, the hunger started to settle. The tunnels had monsters but they fled from me and I wasn't interested in them. They did not offer sustenance. I had no idea or sense of time. I just knew it was a Too Damn Fucking Long (c) time.

Then I sensed. A wisp of magic in the air. A sweet trail that like the redhead Woody, made me float down following that. Devouring that magic. My whole being hungered. I might be moving in these endless tunnels for months.

I didn't try to cross the earth upward and reach the surface for obvious reasons. An undead creature does not belong in society. And I couldn't disguise myself very well. Make that not at all.

As I approached, I smelt burnt flesh and a lingering din of combat. Metal on bone, flesh, blood. Then I saw them.

A group of adventurers that wouldn't make a bad impression in any RPG diorama. Two armored people, one female human and one male elf with maille hauberks and shields holding the front, A magician with slightly pointed ears flinging magic, a priest of Galbarar healing a girl in brigandine armor whose arm was banged up. They were fighting a repulsive creature with barbed tentacles, big eyes in a central fleshy blob, and several mouths with teeth.

The female warrior slashed a tentacle, severing the appendage and causing the monster to screech. She dropped her sword and clutched her ears.

I started to sing "I Will Survive" and used my {Countersong}. From my hiding spot, outside their sight, I canceled the monster's sonic attack. Jut in time for the elf fighter to regain control of his movements, interpose himself to save the human woman from what happened to the girl in brigandine.

"Who's there?" The mage asked.

"More fight, less asking," The elf warrior covered the woman until she picked up her sword. "It is one of the People, can't you recognize the voice?"

Without what was its biggest crowd control ability, the monster died. After stabbing its brain - or what I think was the brain - the human woman started to carve the monster and the others stood guard looking my way.

"Now it's the time to ask," The elf warrior said. "Who goes there?"

I started to speak in what was now ancient Fulgen Elvish. "A friend. A [Bard] lost in these endless tunnels. But one that shies from the light. See to your friends and collect your spoils, heroes. Mind me not but leave me alone."

"An elf chick?" The mage grinned. "With a voice that beautiful..."

The elf raised an arm to block the mage. "You speak the People's tongue with an ancient accent. Are you down here for too long?" He asked with suspicion.

"Yes in a sense, no in another, I don't know is the truth," I answered in the human tongue they were using, a heavily derived Pekothian. I was probably near the Fulgen forest. "Your suspicion is well-deserved, brave warrior. But I have no ill intent."

Except they were steaks in a BBQ grill and I was a starving dog.

I withdrew deeper into my tunnel.

The woman extracted what I believe was the monster's magic core. Not as tasty as a Demon Lord's, I believe, but I was drooling. That core had magic to feed me. The elf kept watching, me, vigilant like a hawk, while the mage went to check the girl.

"How's she?" He asked the cleric.

"She won't die, but her arm is a mess. The would is too big and I can't mend it. I'm low on MP. If I don't heal it soon, it will become permanent. She might lose this arm."

The woman was cleaning herself but she approached. "My name is Katia. Thanks for the help."

I couldn't see but the lacerations those thorns could cause on unarmored people would be really grievous.

"I can help," I said softly. "I can heal her arm."

The cleric looked up. "Nonsense. A [Bard] has healing magic but it is not as strong as a cleric's."

"No. It is not," I replied. "But I have other talents. I can save your friend."

"What is your price?" The elf warrior asked.

"The monster's core. I need it."

"For what?" He pressed.

"Food," I answered honestly.

"Out of magic," The priest cried after he cast his last spell.

I could see the mage was sagging. He too was tired and probably low on mana.

"You," The elf said then changed languages to give us some privacy. "You are no longer living, are you, sister?"

"Not right now, brother. But I'll come back again. As archmagister Sariandi called me once, I'm the 'Old Soul'. The traveler between lives. I found myself in this unseemingly shape now but my mind and heart are my own."

"That's a claim I find hard to believe. Can you prove that?" He asked in Elvish. We alienated their party mates as we kept talking between us.

"Proof lies in the eye of the beholder. What would you ask of me?"

"The Old Soul was also the Were-Jaguar Matriarch. Can you show me her fur?"

"I find myself unable to shift. I cannot show you my black fur. But tell me, is the name of King Rudolph III, the bastard that beheaded me, well known by the general public?"

"Not by the humans, for it shamed us greatly that we didn't assist you in defeating him. But you're, or were an elf. The People remembers."

So nothing I could say from that time would prove my identity.

The human woman, despite her companion's caution, had plans of her own. "Fuck that, Fauralien. Deborah will lose her arm and will be forced to retire without a trade to earn money."

She walked in my direction. "You want the core? Take it. Save my friend!"

"A bargain was struck. Fear not, I shall uphold my part."

I floated forward and entered the light. The adventurers stared at me with dread.

"Banshee!" The mage shouted.