Loremaster of the Amaranthine lands

A moment of silence took hold of the group as the weight of Valerie’s words sank in.

“It does make sense.” Amanda agreed while she kept on rowing. “The undead we faced so far were already tough. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to fight something tougher than those tier two freaks.”

“Well,” Regis cleared his throat awkwardly. “Technically speaking, pretty much everything we’ve faced back in Hunor counted as tier one.”

“What?” Most of the group asked as one both in indignation and surprise.

“I’ve been casting charlatan’s wisdom on pretty much every new enemy I managed to take down and they had attribute scores beneath twenty. Of course, that was due to their numbers being halved as a result of becoming an undead. Most of them were solid tier ones with many being tier two’s while they were still alive, but yeah.”

“Shit,” Quentin cursed atypically to his usually reserved self. “Are you telling me that we’ve been getting our asses handed to us by a bunch of grunts?”

“Nothing is surprising about that,” Osmond sighed as he looked back at that distressed wannabe paladin. “Did any of you really think that we’ve been fighting the best that this world has to offer? I mean, they were kitted out in the worst equipment you could get, so it should have been obvious how low they were on the food chain.”

“Not to mention that all of you must have felt the changes brought about by even a single point’s worth of attribute increase. A tier two has at least one of their attributes above twenty-five. That’s not something any of us could contend with in a real battle.” Fabien joined into the conversation, sharing his own thoughts on the matter.

“So, you’re saying that we’re in for a rude awakening if we get to fight real tier two enemies?” Khan asked as he couldn’t help, but stop rowing for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter whether we face a beast, a human or some kind of undead. As long as they are true blue tier two’s, we’d be toast. The gap between a tier one and sanctified tier two is like a small chasm.”

“Sanctified?” Khan looked back at the infernal woman after hearing her statement.

“It refers to someone who has already formed their second-tier pathway constellations,” Osmond explained. “From what I know; tier one classes can get some bonuses from their pathways if they pay the price in Amaranth. However, you’re supposed to get a boon right at the get-go when your second-tier pathway is formed. It’s like a special class ability or something.”

“It is,” Valerie nodded in agreement. “My supposed second tier path will be the ‘Sanguine Warlock’ and it was recorded to give an innate spell that could make an enemy’s blood boil while still in their bodies. That is if I manage to draw their blood during combat and make a connection with it.”

“That sounds disturbing.” Amanda shuddered at the thought of getting cooked from the inside out.

“It’s not overly powerful at the start, but once mastered, it could easily kill a tier one who’s near full health and immobilize a tier two enemy for a few seconds while dealing some serious damage. Pretty much every offence-type path gains an ultimate move like that.”

“We’re so fucked.” Cruz spat into the river as she cracked her stiff fingers before grabbing the paddle once more.

“Not if we manage to get to tier two ourselves.” Osmond patted her back with a reassuring smile.

“Alright, enough with the depressing talk.” Quentin brought back the group from their dark thoughts.

“He’s right,” Regis agreed with a sigh. “We can’t do anything about it for now, but train harder and get stronger. Let’s get to the next stop as soon as possible. I’m starting to lose any sensation in my arms.”

“Wimp.” Amanda coughed with sarcasm oozing from her voice, barely managing to conjure a shield spell out of instinct to protect her ribs from a heavy elbow banging on them.

The group rowed on, moving upwards the slow-flowing river with a renewed purpose. A few more hours of boring travel later the familiar sight of a rundown dock greeted them after a small bend of the river. This time, the clearing behind the jetty seemed to be clear of enemies, but that only made them all the more cautious.

“Shields up!” Regis said with a slightly commanding tone as he cast the familiar spell, a dinner plate-sized magic safeguard floating around his chest.

As the boat got tied out, the group of outlanders walked towards the small clearing with their eyes searching for any threat. A few moments later a faint rustling could be heard from the left side of the patch, as a helmet-wearing figure shambled out of the forest.

“It looks like we’ve got one on the… shit!” Cruz cursed as an arrow whizzed by her, shattering Fabien’s arcana shield, drilling itself into the infernal youth’s side.

“Archer on the right!” Quentin yelled as he raised his shield, covering Valerie as she rushed towards her brother to help him.

“That son of a… don’t yank it!” Fabien tried to stop his sister, but the woman ruthlessly pulled the arrow with its leaf-shaped tip out of his gambeson before chanting the lesser healing spell.

Khan rushed forward with swords drawn, dodging an arrow before beheading the archer with a glowing blade slash.

“It’s down!” He yelled while hurrying back to the others.

“This one’s down too,” Regis spoke as he yanked his bladestaff’s tip back from the downed undead’s head.

“Keep your eyes on those bushes! There could be more of the bastards!” Cruz held her staff with her fingers turning white from the tightness of her grip.

“How is he?” The dark elf walked back with his eyes still on the forest.

“I’m fine,” the infernal sighed. “It barely went half an inch or so deep.”

“That’s still more than what was expected,” Amanda crouched down to pick up the arrow, handing it over to Sophie so that she could take a look at it. “What do you think?”

“Iron tip with a hardwood shaft. It even has a glowing symbol on it.”

“It does?” Regis asked as he reached out to take the arrow for inspection. “No wonder it went through the shield and the enchanted gambeson. It has a ‘waste’ rank edge rune on it. That would give it two points of extra damage from the bonus sharpness.”

“Oy,” they heard one of the mercenaries yelling from a fat approaching boat. “Is everything alright?”

“We got ambushed by a fallen archer,” Quentin yelled back to the people on the boat. “Be ready for possible attackers!”

Soon the rest of the boats arrived as well, allowing the mercenaries and guards to occupy the small clearing. Shields at the ready, several groups headed out to do a sweep of the area while the rest of the groups stayed behind to rest. Fabien got patched up and his armour was mended of the hole left behind by the arrow. Still wary of possible enemies, the young dark elf looked towards Khan.

“We should check out that archer’s gear. Maybe it has some good stuff for Sophie.”

“Oh, right. I’ll drag the bastard back here in a moment.”

“Don’t,” the spell weaver stopped him. “Just pry off whatever useful you find and send off the corpse with the ritual. It should be well hidden by the bushes to hide it from others.”

“Yeah, fine.” Khan said with an obvious distaste in his tone as he thought about the corpse sacrifice ritual.

The young warrior left with Quentin accompanying him for added protection while Regis headed over to search the corpse of the enemy he fell just behind the first few bushes. Besides the small amount of Amaranth harvested from it, the carcass held little of value. The spell weaver found a small iron dagger, a pouch with a few bronze coins and the obvious crappy leather and bronze equipment. Its choice of weapon was a wide-bladed bronze sword that was thicker and heavier than most, with small but fancy-looking carvings adorning the base of the blade. Charlatan’s wisdom revealed a not too eye-catching result.

{Bronze heavy sword (scratched)}

{Item rarity: common}

{Item quality: ordinary}

{Durability: 87/100}

{Damage: 22)}

He put it aside with whatever he found useful before pricking his finger to let a drop of blood fall beside the corpse. The familiar ritual circle appeared as the blood hit the ground, turning the corpse into a dried husk in seconds. It left behind six small green slivers, out of which he merged five to create a fortitude shard. Regis absorbed the new shard and felt a faint refreshing sensation wash over his body as his tense muscles loosened up a bit while his stamina increased by one point. He stuffed the remaining sliver into the same pouch he held the other one from his previous kill. By the time he returned to the others with his loot, their resting place was secured and people were talking to each other while resting their tired limbs.

“I see you couldn’t stop yourself from scavenging.” Amanda shook her head as the spell weaver walked closer to their group.

“It had a few things I’ve found useful. What about you?”

“The archer had more than a few surprises.” Khan smiled proudly as he pointed at the recurve bow Sophie was holding under her scrutinising gaze.

“That looks nice.” Regis admitted, earning a smile from the sun elf girl.

“There were three more of those iron-tipped arrows and a few bronze ones. The bow is also a lot better than my own. Oh, and the quiver and gloves too.”

“It must have been a higher-ranked archer,” Osmond said as he examined the enchanted arrows. “I doubt that stuff like this would be given to simple grunts.”

“Can I have a look at the bow?” The dark elf held his hand out and Sophie handed over her precious new weapon.

Regis looked the bow over, finding a few scratches and other small signs of wear and tear, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed using the lesser mending spell. There were no runes on the weapon, nor any real ornament or truly distinguishing features to speak of. It was a nice, lightly coloured bow with a dark brown string. He used charlatan’s wisdom on the weapon to get a better sense of its capabilities.

{Maple recurve bow (worn)}

{Rarity: common}

{Quality: ordinary}

{Durability: 74/100}

{Damage: 12/16}

“It has a max damage of sixteen. That’s not bad,” he nodded after reading its stats. “You can easily mend it back to its full strength and I’ll enchant it tonight. Is that alright with you Sophie?”

“Yes,” the sun elf nodded with enthusiasm. “I like this bow. Its grip is a lot more comfortable compared to my other one, not to mention that I like recurve bows a lot more than longbows.”

“Then that’s settled,” Amanda patted her friend’s shoulder. “Now let’s get some rest while we can. It’s going to be a long ride till the last stop of the day.”

“Yeah,” Regis agreed before his mind fell back onto the thought he had on the previous night. “Hey, Sophie; I think this should be useful to you. I kind of forgot that I had it stashed in my bag until last night’s crafting session.”

The spell weaver rummaged through his knapsack, pulling out a small, neatly carved crystal that was pulsing with a faint greenish glow. He handed it over to the sun elf before pulling out a piece of ration to munch on.

“Dual shot,” Sophie mumbled as she touched the crystal. “You want to give me a skill gem?”

“You’re the only archer amongst us, so it would be best for you to have it.”

“Thanks,” the sun elf chirped with a smile as she absorbed the crystal’s power, making it crumble into dust in the process. “This skill sounds quite useful. I’ll try to practice it later.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have any hammer skills stashed away in that bag of yours, right?” Amanda asked jokingly, earning a slight head shake from the dark elf.

“We’ll really have to be on the lookout for new skills out there,” Quentin sighed as he looked down at his sword and shield. “Let’s just hope that the leaders of East Fork pay well for our services.”

“Here’s to hope.” Khan raised his waterskin, taking a sip before passing it around.

The group of tired outlanders plopped down on a relatively dry spot, resting their tired arms while they spent some time healing one of Marcus’ mercenaries. A good hour or so later their respite came to a halt as everyone on the clearing began to pack up, heading towards the docks.

“See you at the last stop?” Cruz asked from Dana the mercenary as they neared their respective boats.

“Don’t think you’ll get to be the first ones again,” the woman chuckled. “This time we’ll get the better of you lot.”

“Sure, sure.” The wood elf waved at the challenge while getting into the boat.

“Don’t get too sure of yourself lass,” Marcus chided. “The only reason you lot managed to keep ahead of the rest of us is because you brats have the least baggage to drag you down.”

The man’s words seemed to ring true as they all looked at the heavily loaded boats before turning towards the near-empty one the outlanders used. Shrugging at the pointless argument, Regis got in the boat and grabbed the paddle, readying himself along with the rest of the group. Their boat began to move slowly forward as it got untied, the seemingly gentle river not wanting to let them gain speed too quickly.

Time went by under the dark grey skies that kept showering a very faint drizzle on the rowing warriors. While the river was slow moving, the monotone landscape of trees and bushes with barely any wildlife around kept gnawing at the slowly sinking morale of the group. Not long after their third hour of strained rowing, a cracking noise shook up everyone from their jaded state of mind as an arrow struck the upper side of their longboat.

“Enemy on the right!” Quentin yelled immediately as he yanked his paddle out of the water before raising his shield.

“I can only see one archer.” Sophie claimed as she stared into the forest before a second arrow reached them, only to be stopped by the wannabe paladin’s shield.

“Can you take it down?” Khan asked as he tried his hardest to keep the boat moving at a steady pace along with the rest of the crew.

“I’ll try, but I’m not sure if I can hit it from here.”

“Hey,” a yell from behind caught their attention. “Keep rowing! We’ll take care of that one.”

“You’ve heard the man,” Regis took in a sharp breath as the river bucked and the paddle struck him in the gut for a moment. “Keep rowing!”

“But…”

“Sit down,” Amanda pulled her friend back as Quentin blocked another arrow. “We’ll keep moving and Quentin keeps blocking any arrows while we’re in range. You’ll have plenty of chances to try out that fancy new bow of yours later on.”

The blacksmith’s joke earned a small chuckle from the group as they held on, doing their utmost to row out of firing range. A few minutes later all the boats went beyond another small bent on the river. No further signs of enemies could be seen for now.

“This is going to be troublesome,” Fabien said as he looked towards the treeline. “It’s going to be a hassle to keep rowing while we’ll have to be on the lookout for undead archers and stuff like that.”

“I guess we should keep that arcana shield active then.” Letty suggested.

“It won’t do much against an enchanted arrow aimed at your head.” Valerie shook her head as she looked at her brother’s back.

“Let’s just keep rowing and keep your heads down,” Regis sighed in frustration at the absurdity of their newfound situation. “The sooner we reach the next stop, the sooner we can set up an actually defendable place for the night. We’re pretty much sitting ducks out here.”

“More like rowing ducks.” Fabien said; his words forcing everyone to break out sniggering upon the terrible, but much-needed joke.