Loremaster of the Amaranthine lands

Khan took no notice of the first two kicks he received into his boots, but the third one did the trick; mainly because it was done with quite a bit more force behind it.

“Wha… who?”

“Wake up,” Regis stared down at the young fighter. “Its your turn.”

“Fine,” Khan yawned as he slowly sat up. “Okay, just give me a minute to get my shit together.”

“Sure. Try to keep the fire low while on duty. The less light we make, the less attention we get.”

“Yeah, no problem.” The youth nodded with his eyes barely open as he took a swig from his waterskin.

“Night.” The dark elf said as he sprawled out on his bedroll, falling asleep in less than a minute.

The shadow of sleep surrounded Regis with its gentle and warm embrace, but the warmth soon turned into an icy cold that was enough to make his body shiver and convulse. An endless darkness and cold followed by the feeling of sheer pain striking him in the chest before the sensation of drowning took over. He woke with a start, gasping for air as he grabbed his chest where the phantom pain struck him. His clothes stuck to his skin due to the cold sweat that covered him from head to toe. As the air finally began to rush back into his lungs, the shaking stopped and his dilated pupils finally tuned in to the shapes and colours around him.

“Are you okay there Regis?” A familiar voice called out, grounding the still heaving youth back in reality.

Osmond sat beside the bright ambers of the campfire, staring at the dark elf with an obvious worry in his eyes. Regis let out a turbulent breath as he finally calmed down, letting go of his chest.

“Just a nightmare, I guess.” He answered to the question as he fell back onto his bedroll, staring up at the roof of their makeshift yurt.

“Those are likely going to become a commonplace in the near future,” the pale young man sighed as he tossed a small piece of wood into the pile of ambers to keep the fire alive. “I’ve seen the others having nightmares yesterday and tonight as well.”

“I can’t blame them,” the young spell weaver tried to shift his body into a better posture. “I’ll guess this will be just another thing to motivate us to get stronger.”

“Perhaps. Anyway; try to get some sleep while it’s still dark.”

“Yeah.” Regis sighed, trying to clear his head and fall asleep once again.

Soon, the familiar pull of tiredness claimed him, darkness erasing most of his worries. The silence slipped by quick, a shrill scream rousing him once again after an unknown amount of time.

“We’re under attack!” Someone yelled, waking everyone in the small clearing.

“Everyone, get up!” Another voice commanded while Regis and his companions fumbled about to grab their weapons.

As the outlanders finally got to their senses, everyone turned towards the edge of the clearing where several figures were trying to climb over the earth wall. Valerie cast a light wisp spell to increase the team’s field of vision while Regis stared into the darkness, eyes glued at the incoming enemies making use of his darkvision racial trait. Their uninvited guests seemed to be undead soldiers of lower rankings as they moved slow and clunky instead of the firm and swift movement shown by the high level fallen.

“Where the hell did these things crawl out from?” Amanda asked as she lifter her large hammer, ready to bash anything that came her way.

“Does it matter? Just get ready to fight!” Cruz said as she grabbed her staff, vaulting over the waist high dirt wall of their yurt.

“Where’s my… bow?” Sophie tried to find her weapon, but Regis quickly handed over the enchanted recurve bow before passing the new shield over to Letty as well.

“Incoming!” Quentin yelled as he and Khan jumped out of the yurt, swords swinging at the nearest foes.

Regis wasn’t messing around either as he joined his comrades, casting a runic arcana bolt towards the closest undead swordsman before stabbing another one through its left eye socket. A few swift moves later both creatures were dead for good with new ones arriving to take their place on the battlefield. “Osmond, your wolf is over there,” the dark elf called out to the pale youth. “Give it a try!”

Lightning cracked as Fabien shattered an undead axeman’s head with his spell while his sister was whirling around the battlefield with her burning whip lashing out at the enemy. As the whip got pulled back, an eerie sight greeted the group of outlanders as a brownish red skeleton wolf with burning claws, eyes and fangs burst through the crowd, leaping on an incoming undead, and chomping down on its head.

“What the fuck is that thing?” A surprised Amanda cursed as she was about to swing her hammer at the skeleton, only stopping when she saw the wolf attacking the undead instead of the outlanders.

“I take it that’s another one of your handiworks?” Fabien turned to the dark elf, earning a nod and a proud smirk.

“These things just keep coming,” Sophie yelped as she dodged a fallen warrior that got too close to her. “I’m running out of arrows.”

“Get back inside the yurt,” the wannabe paladin said as he bashed his shield into the side of the undead that tried to grab hold of the sun elf girl. “The wall should slow their advance and give you enough time to take them out.”

“Everyone, get back to the yurt!” Regis ordered with a tone that accepted no hesitance.

The group of outlanders retreated behind the condensed earth wall, followed by several fallen that tried to swing their weapons at them. A quick look towards the rest of the clearing proved that neither the mercenaries, nor the guardsmen fared any better than they did. Everyone fought back to back, killing whatever abominations crawled out of the woods, but not without a price. Several wounded were being dragged towards the jetty to keep them away from the fight, most of them bleeding profusely.

As the attackers tried to climb over the dirt wall of the yurt, a wide selection of weapons brought down death on them. A heavily armoured undead got its skull shattered by a burning great hammer while another one fell back after a pair of swords beheaded it. Regis reached out over the wall, casting his ‘gale blast’ spell, knocking back several undead in the process. Spells were flung across the tight space, blades stabbed and slashed until the corpses of the incoming attackers piled up as high as the dirt wall itself.

“Is everyone okay?” Regis asked as he turned to check up on his companions when the fight ended.

“Still alive,” Osmond panted. “Got a few small cuts, but nothing serious.

“Same here.” Most of the warband agreed with the pale youth’s statement while the dark elf watched the last of the intruders fall beneath the weapons of the mercenaries.

“We should go and help them,” Letty spoke up with her hands still white from gripping her sceptre too strongly. “I saw several people get hurt.”

“She’s right. Let’s go and check up on them.” Sophie nodded as the group quickly gathered whatever Amaranth they’ve earned and headed over to the jetty.

More than a dozen wounded lay on the muddy ground, surrounded by their comrades who were doing their best to slow the bleeding of the most seriously wounded ones.

“Everyone spread out,” the dark elf said as he kneeled beside a mercenary woman who’s stomach was almost split open by the large gash going across it. “Pick the ones with the worst injuries first!”

The mercenaries gave way to the arriving outlanders, watching as the group began to cast lesser healing on their comrades.

“I’m running out of juice here!” Cruz stated as she almost fell head first on the still wounded mercenary.

“Marcus,” the dark elf called out to the grizzled warrior. “Get my knapsack from our sleeping spot, will you?”

The man nodded before hurrying away, only to return a few moments later with the bag. Regis tore it open and rummaged through its contents, pulling out the small pouch that held the Landwaker seeds. “Could you give some to the others?” He handed over the pouch after taking out a few seeds for his own use.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” Letty looked at the young spell weaver confused.

“Chew.” The curt answer came, prompting his companions to pop the seeds into their mouths.

“Woah,” Osmond let out a deep breath. “They might taste bitter, but they sure can top off an empty arcana reserve.”

“Then keep on healing!” Valerie chided as she managed to drag back a man from death’s door with her renewed strength.

A few minutes later the injured mercenaries were out of the worst of it, the rest of the small army doubling down on the patrols along the dirt wall or piling up the corpses. The outlanders sat beside the wounded warriors, meditating to restore their spent arcana reserves before continuing to provide healing for anyone that got hurt during the night attack. A good hour later the first rays of the sun began to show up on the far horizon, finding tired people on the bloodied clearing.

“Let’s get rid of the corpses, shall we?” Valerie called out to the rest of the outlanders as she headed towards the smaller pile of corpses that consisted of their kills.

Everyone let out a disgruntled sigh as they followed the infernal woman. Once they were beside the pile of bodies, Letty couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“How are we going to separate them based on who killed which?”

“We don’t have to,” Osmond answered the question. “We’ll simply pile them up, stand in a circle and cast the ritual at the same time. If what I’ve read about it is true, the rituals will combine into a larger one, and all of the corpses should get sorted out on their own. We’ll just have to gather our earnings.”

With that, they moved to add any left overs to the corpse pile. After taking up their positions around the pile of carcasses, everyone pricked their fingers, letting their blood drop on the ground. The familiar glowing lines and sigils appeared, worming their way outwards until they hit each other’s rituals. Then, the amber like radiance brightened as the separate rituals fused into one.

A few moments later the pile of corpses shrivelled down into a pile of bones while dozens of shiny crystal slivers formed in the air. Regis held out his palm and everyone watched as several shards floated towards him. In the end, he earned enough slivers that after fusing them, he gained two green and two red shards. He quickly absorbed their essence, his body resounding with a few subtle pops as the pure life force coursed through his veins.

The rest of his team did the same, earning a diverse assortment of shards for themselves. When all was done, the outlanders could finally relax a bit. Regis let out a tired breath as he looked at his companions getting caught up talking with the leaders of the injured warriors, accepting their thanks for treating their people. Not wanting to disturb the others, he found himself a dry and relatively clean spot to sit down. He felt it during last night and throughout the battle that he had reached new heights in his capabilities and now he had some time to check up on the origin of this sensation.

The calmness of meditation turned into a familiar sensation of falling as the dark elf’s soul felt his surroundings shift. When he opened his eyes again, he was sitting in front of the statue inside his soul-space. The braziers on the side crackled as the flames illuminated the statue and his soul-tome that lay on the podium in front of the sculpture. When he reached out and touched it, the ornate tome flipped open, his character sheet appearing in front of his eyes.

{Name: Regis ???}

{Title: Novice staff wielder}

{Race: Dark elf/Sun elf/ Human}

{Age: 19}

{Amaranth: 4080}

{Caste: commoner}

{Path}

Neophyte spell weaver

Trainee fighter

{Craft}

Novice enchanter

{Attributes}

•Allure: 15

•Deftness: 19

•Erudition: 21

•Faith: 8

•Luck: 12

•Might: 18

•Mind: 20

•Physique: 17

•Spirit: 21

•Willpower: 23

Health/Arcana/Stamina

{42/42}{81/81}{43/43}

{Status effects}

None

‘I’ll really have to get more vigour shards, cause I’m way too squishy right now.’ He thought as he watched his health stat that had barely climbed above forty. The young dark elf let out a small sigh as he touched the small bookmark on the edge of his soul-tome, which made the pages turn to the one that recorded his skills. Once there, he was greeted by a pleasant sight. Although none of his scarce combat skills had reached the point of mastery, he did get two other very important skill lines at an impasse. Looking at them revealed the full extent of the current situation, along with the possible choices.

{Spell weaving}{Specialization pending}

{Weave your arcana into a thread that can be used to create temporary runic circles and runic spells. Each level decreases the focus required to create and maintain your creations by 0, 25%. Every tenth rank grants a minor perk that is gained after specialization. Every twenty-fifth rank allows you to choose a specialization.}

{Focus reduction: 6, 25%}

{Skill mastery: 25/100}

{Mastery progression: 30/30}

{Attuned weaving}

{To each their own, as the saying goes. Attune yourself and your weaves to a singular element, infusing other runic spells and reinforcing same-element ones. Elemental attunement grants an extra 20% damage to any runic spell, reflecting the element of your choice. Your choice of element will weaken its opposing element by 20% instead.}

{Faster weaving}

{In the heat of battle, a single moment can be the difference between life and death. As you have grown accustomed to weaving your arcana into threads for your spells, you are now able to do so with greater speed. Cast any runic spells 20% faster.}

{Permanent weaving}

{Arcana is a part of the world around you, your own spells being a drop in the ocean. Gaining a decent enough mastery in weaving your magic into existence, you can now prevent your threads from fading. Reinforce your magic with your will, turning the once fleeting weaves into permanent ones. The path of permanent spell weaving allows one to form permanent runic circles and wards.}

‘Well, shit. I wasn’t expecting this.’