Loremaster of the Amaranthine lands

Regis only fumed for a few moments before admitting his shortcomings, as he rubbed at the edge of his left hand where a faint scar line ran beneath his pinkie finger. These monsters were hard to deal with and he was foolish to take so many risks during his fights. His mind was riddled with doubts and self-reproach, but those had to wait. There were far more important problems to take care of now. ‘Having a single staff attack skill and a few non-combat initiate rank spells won’t be enough if these things are everywhere. Norma seems to be a kind enough woman. If I take down enough undead and prove useful enough, she might be willing to say a few good words about me to the right people.’ Regis thought as he tried to regain his bearings.

Deciding on the matter, he took care of his half-healed wounds, covertly using his restorative magic before his sight fell on his bladestaff. The thick blade was bent and had cracks on it with small pieces missing along its edge. ‘I won’t last through the night with just this.’ He shook his head before placing the bronze swords he gathered next to each other on the ground. He then willed his weapon to return to its original staff form and put it on the swords as he sat down to meditate. While in his meditative space, the young dark elf began to redraw the durability rune of his staff in his mind. The grey symbol soon turned white and he felt his arcana rush through his fingers as the staff turned hot beneath his touch. When he opened his eyes, the bright coppery bladestaff was now dark bronze brown. His arcana was almost depleted, but he still had enough to cast the charlatan’s identification spell on the staff.

{Soulbound sunstone staff}

{Item rarity: ???}

{Item quality: ordinary}

{Greater enchantments: 1}

{Lesser enchantments: 1}

{Durability: 125/125}

{Damage: ???}

‘It looks like infusing it with bronze made it a lot more durable than copper. It’s heavier too.’ The youth nodded with a wide smile as he put the staff back on the half melted bronze swords before adding the gathered bronze daggers into the small pile. After meditating for a few minutes he was back to full arcana and so he began to redraw the weapon-shift rune. As the symbol turned white, the young elf almost fell face first on the ground as all of his strength left his body before a small wave of warmth flushed through his body. ‘What just happened?’ He scratched his head as he looked at the bronze coloured staff. As the youth willed the magic staff to change form, dark reddish brown bronze bled from the roots that surrounded the milky yellow crystal. It turned into a bronze blade that looked similar to its predecessor, but was about a centimetre or so longer and had a slightly more refined shape. Regis identified it with charlatan’s wisdom and the new description showed itself.

{Soulbound sunstone bladestaff}

{Item rarity: ???}

{Item quality: ordinary}

{Greater enchantments: 1}

{Lesser enchantments: 1}

{Durability: 125/125}

{Damage: ???}

“Shit.” He scoffed as he remembered his inability to see the exact changes of the important stats.

The young man was sure that a bronze blade could deal more damage, but his spell mastery was still too low to see the numbers. In the end he stopped fussing about the small matter and spent his precious time to fully refill his arcana reserves. Soon he got back up and when he got near the guards, he heard the familiar motherly voice call out to him.

“Regis,” Norma noticed him. “Are you well enough come back?”

“Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” he said. “I’ve regained enough strength to go on. It’s going to be a long night, so I’ll take out the ones I can safely eliminate. You’ll take care of the rest.”

“That’s the spirit,” another guard nodded. “You’ll be a fine warrior one day. Just stick to killing off the weaker ones for now and leave the rest to us.”

“Here they come!” Someone yelled from the side as if on cue.

Regis raised his staff as he stared into the approaching darkness. He picked the closest enemy as advised and after several deflected sword strikes, he slashed forward using heavy strike. His attack left a deep gash on his enemy’s side, rotten guts spilling out. The youth had to fight off the urge to vomit as he struck at the already mangled body again and his opponent’s head got smashed in once it fell to the ground. Not looking back at the corpse, he moved forward to meet the next one. A painful scream forced him to turn left; just to see as one of the refugees was ran through by a two-handed sword.

The defenders of the city suffered few casualties, but each was a great loss. He fought and killed two more rotting swordsmen. His latest kill left him with a bleeding cut on his right upper arm. In return, he bashed its skull like a hard skinned pumpkin. While he healed his arm, a whistling sound made him turn his head. Once he looked upwards, he dodged to the left and an arrow struck his original place. Somewhere in the dark fog, archers began to fire at the defence line. It was only a few arrows a minute, but even those would hinder them.

“We need to take care of those archers before they cause us too much trouble,” the guard captain the others referred to as Grego said. “Get your arses in gear!"

Hearing the order, Norma looked at the rest of the guardsmen.

“You’ve heard the captain,” she spoke up. “We’re going out to hunt. Get your shields and get into formation!”

The guards moved as one, Norma swung her sword at an approaching undead as the group of eight headed forward. Regis watched them march towards the darkness in a tight circle formation with a single torch bearer in the middle. His legs moved forward a bit, but he stopped again with his eyes turned towards the unnatural darkness. ‘No pain, no gain.’ He shook his head before he started walking as well.

“Regis,” Norma called out to him. “What are doing?”

“I’m going with you.”

“Absolutely not!” She refused.

“Do any of you have low-light vision or darkvision?”

“No.” Grego shook his head as he looked at the all-human guard group.

“Then you’ll need me as a spotter. I can see up a distance of 20 meters in the dark.”

“Captain,” another sentry spoke up. “The boy could be useful.”

“But he’s...”

“He volunteered.” The guard cut into Norma’s word.

“Agreed,” Grego nodded. “All right, lad. Get into the circle and only stick your head out when I call you. Just peek out and tell us if you see any archers. Now move out!”

The formation moved slowly, reaching the edge of the battlefield while cutting down whatever rotten creature got close. As they’ve stepped through the fog, Regis immediately cursed inside. ‘Fucking magical mist and darkness.’ Forget about those twenty meters. He could barely make out any shapes at ten, not to mention that the torch’s light only reached beyond their group by two or three meters before smothered by the shadows.

“See anything?” Grego asked near immediately.

The young dark elf stared into the dark for a moment before nodding.

“There’s one a figure on our right about seven or so meters beyond the torch’s range and another one a bit further to the left.”

“Keep moving!” The order came and they soon reached the first archer.

The guards at the front made quick work of it and they headed towards the other one. Once that one got killed as well, Regis searched for new opponents.

“There’s a group of five at the edge of my sight but there are undead soldiers between them and us. We could get attacked while fighting those.”

“Are you sure?” one of the soldiers asked. “I can’t see a thing in this damned fog.”

“How many of them are there?” Another one asked the more important question while gripping his rust spotted iron broadsword.

“I can make out three with something similar to maces, two with sword and shield, and a spearman. There are a few more to the left and right, but they are further away. These ones however are walking straight towards us.”

“You’ve heard him people,” Grego spoke. “We’re about to get company.”

In only a few moments, a group of rotting soldiers came into the range of the torch’s light, shambling towards them. Their attacks landed on the shields, but couldn’t stop the guards. As they were mowed down, Regis got a chance to swing his bladestaff when one of the fallen swordsmen got through the shield line. He crossed blades with the undead warrior, stepping back under the weight of the attack. A well placed strike at its knees made them buckle as the undead fell down. His bladestaff moved with a red gleam as it ended the creature. Once he finished off his opponent, he looked toward the archers in the dark, only to see them aiming at the guards.

“Arrows!” He said while pointing at their direction and the soldiers immediately raised their shields to form a wall.

The sound of arrows hitting brass plated wood could be heard as they ducked behind the shields.

“Forward!” Grego ordered as he yanked his sword out of his enemy’s corpse.

They ran toward the archers without hesitation and the tiny greenish flames soon became visible up front. The second volley of arrows struck the shields much harder. Two of the arrowheads even managed go through, poking out of the wood for an inch or so.

“Take them down!” Norma shouted as she bashed the closest archer with her shield.

The rest of the guards followed her example and unceremoniously destroyed their enemies.

“Do you see any other bowmen?” Norma asked as she pulled out a leather cord with the intent of tying the youth’s unruly hair together.

“I can’t see any more at the moment. Should we go forward or to the side?’ He asked while harvesting the Amaranth he earned.

“To the side,” Grego answered. “We’re already near the edge of the woods. Let’s do a quick culling and then we join up with the others.”

The group took up the tightknit formation once more and headed left, cutting down several stray undead in the passing minutes before Regis found another group of archers. He pointed out their whereabouts just before a volley of arrows struck the guards’ shields.

“What are you waiting for kid?” One of them asked. “Duck!”

As the guards blocked the incoming arrows, the young elf noticed that three undead soldiers got too close to them. He reached forward with his left hand between the shields that were being lowered. A snapping sound filled the space between the soldiers as his crystal shot spell hit the closest incoming undead.

“Good one; now cut them down!” Grego ordered.

The undead bowmen took aim again, their arrows striking the large shields.

“Take them...”

“Duck!” Regis pulled an over eager guard back as the second volley from the right almost got him in the neck.

“There are three more archers to the right.”

“We’ll take care of these ones. Try to halter the other three.” Grego ordered as the soldiers sprang into action, charging forward.

‘How the fuck am I supposed to that? You guys are the soldiers for fuck sake!’ He thought as he raised his bladestaff forward and ran towards the nearby archers. An undead stepped in front of him, but it was staggered by a swing of the staff to its head before he switched back to bladestaff form and stabbed it in the chest, using it as a shield against the incoming arrows. He had no way to move forward, even though he was less than three meters away from the archers.

With not enough arcana to cast quartz shot, a desperate and ridiculous idea came into his mind. He just had to halter the archers and so he did. Regis pushed back the impaled warrior while he grabbed the coin pouch from his skewered opponent’s belt and threw it at the rightmost bowman. It was a ludicrously accurate throw, given the circumstances, hitting it square in the face and causing it to drop the arrow in its hand. The other two arrows sunk into the impaled monster’s back before he managed to push it into the middle one. He yanked the bladestaff free and stabbed towards the head of the one on the left while heavily panting. The tip of the blade pushed upwards in a slanted angle through the shambling corpse’s open mouth, skewering its brain. The small flames in its eyes died out as he twisted the staff and yanked it back out.

The next one to die was the archer in the middle as a heavy slash that separated its already torn apart neck before the previously impaled fallen soldier got close enough to swing its blade at him. He barely dodged the swing when another one followed it. The dark elf dropped his bladestaff as he fell back on the ground winded with his gambeson taking the brunt of the attack. As the guards moved far enough from him for the torch’s light to be smothered by the fog, black and white outlines filled his vision in the complete darkness. The tiny ghost flames in the eyes of the undead abomination were too weak to brighten anything around it. He could see the outlines of the rotting soldier in front of him as it raised its blade to strike, forcing him to roll in the dirt in hopes of avoiding it. He grabbed the bladestaff and smashed its knees with the well-practiced move, destroying its head as soon as it hit the ground.

Regis followed his hard earned kill with a deep breath as his knees buckled and he fell on the ground wheezing. His respite was short lived as a low gurgle shook him up from his stupor. The third archer he pouch shot before now raised its bow with a pair of faintly glowing arrows that shot towards him in quick succession. One of the arrows grazed his tasset, but the other one drilled through the side of his armour. The arrowhead stabbed into his thigh, forcing him to cry out in pain. He forced himself to stand and raised his staff up as he aimed the bastard’s head and limped forward. A heavy strike made the bastard’s skull cave in, snuffing out the eerie green flames with a sick crunching sound. The youth looked in every direction, but he couldn’t see any sight of Norma and the rest of the guards.

‘They must have met with another group of undead.’ Regis figured, knowing that they wouldn’t risk their life for a kid they didn’t even know, especially not if they’ve already had their hands full. At least the muffled sounds of battle in the distance still pointed him into the general direction of Hunor. With no other enemy nearby, Regis fell back on his ass and tried to gather his breath along with the Amaranth he harvested from the corpses. When the last motes of the glowing green mist was absorbed by his mark, he cast charlatan’s wisdom on the archer’s corpse. Much to his surprise, the glowing letters still showed up, even in the pitch black darkness.

{Fallen Archer}

{Level: 3}

{Attributes}

Allure: 5

Deftness: 7

Erudition: 5

Luck: 5

Might: 6

Mind: 4

Physique: 6

Spirit: 4

Willpower: 6

{This archer of unknown origins was brought back from the dead through the lingering power of foul magic. Its original attributes had been halved by becoming an undead.}

A faint and cold ball of light floated out of the carcass, but the pain that radiated from his leg took priority. He let out a deep cough before sitting on the ground. After he untied the straps of his cuisse, Regis took a deep breath and yanked out the arrow from his thigh with the armour piece on it. His only luck was that the arrow head was leaf shaped, so it came out without too much trouble. He used a torn piece of cloth to staunch the bleeding for a short minute to gather his arcana through the meditative breathing, fighting with the pain and dizziness.