Paragon of Weaponmasters

Our group finds our way out of the training grounds and into the so-called 'holy district'. Acres of land have been cleared and used to grow a green lawn, a single, massive chapel rests in the middle.

How much more room would the non-human races have had if the king didn't set up the city this way? I scoff.

"Good use of land, right?" Peter asks sarcastically.

"Oh yeah." I roll my eyes.

"All aboard!" Helga calls. She's summoned a new mount, a miniature train with little cars attached behind it. Someone you'd see at a farm that sold tickets to visitors, or a county fair.

As we fill the seats, more appear to accommodate. We're twenty cars long, chugging away at surprising speed for such a little engine. Maybe we can get all of them mounts after this.

Hegla pulls the brakes right in front of the steps into the chapel, we all clamber out and climb. Half way up, I hear a choir singing. By the time we reach the top, I hear screaming underneath. We push the huge double doors open, the singing grows to an uncomfortable volume, and we behold what this land's holiness really entails.

With arms spread to her sides, a woman hangs from the rafters by chains. A robed man with a huge hat and seemingly no arms stands before her, unmoving. There are two stands full of singers on either side of the stage, belting hymns.

Sinclair, the Hand of God. Level 71

Princess Rosalie Lambert. Level ??

He casts holy magic, striking her with trantcle-like beams of light, originating from his armless shoulders. She screams, and the choir rises and falls in volume with her, almost masking the sound.

"Hey!" Earlgor shouts. "That's the human princess!"

I didn't recognize her at first, with the blood and bruises, but he's right.

Princess Rosalie Lambert. Level ??

"We have to save her!" He looks at me pleadingly.

I send Thozur to his hand. A weaponmaster without a proper companion is just a warrior with some thunder powers.

"You ready for round two, you son of a bitch?" Helga yells, charging in with axes drawn.

"Orc filth, in my chapel?" the priest turns, screeching at them.

"My full title is Filthy Whore, you pompous fuck!" She retorts, slamming her axes into a glowing bubble around the priest.

"You have to wear down his barrier, then you can kill him." Peter explains.

"Well, let's get in there!" I say, running forward. My little army follows suit, some racing ahead of me with their recently boosted agility.

Earlgor focuses on getting the princess down, sending Thozur to break the chains. He catches her, and takes her away to safety.

Thozur returns to me, and with Earthshatter, Jellyfish, and my group, we pummel the priest's shields.

"My gods will wipe your filth from these lands!" he calls out, several beams of light descend from stained glass windows, burning my kids.

I panic for a moment, blaming myself and regretting bringing them, before the healers just magic their wounds away. Phew.

After a short while, the bubble bursts, exposing the priest to our onslaught. Hios health drops to a single point almost instantly.

"I will not be brought low by unclean hands! Only my gods may claim me!" the priest screeches, casting a new spell.

"Get behind something!" Peter yells.

He dives behind a pew, and most of the group follows suit.

All except Hagdiun, still hammering away at the priest's unmoving form.

"Hagdiun! Hagdiun!" I shout. He doesn't react. "Fuck!" I yell, running back out to get him. I grab him by the arm, too late.

A wave of light, so bright it burns, explodes from the priest.

You've died.

My burnt corpse lies on the floor, staring to the side. Hagdiun's hammer lies there, smoking.

As I mentally prepare to release my spirit and make the long trek back, a different prompt appears in my vision.

Faraine is attempting to resurrect you. Accept?

I accent, returning to life on the spot. I look into my fox-girl's eyes with appreciation, but find only sadness there.

"What's wrong?" I ask, turning around to find my children huddled around the hammer.

Hagdiun's body is not there.

"Where did he go?" I ask, looking around the church.

"The fire took him and the priest." Reluvethel tells me.

"You can't resurrect him too?" I look each of my healers in the eyes. They only return negative responses. "Why not?"

"There's nothing to bring back." Reluvethel shakes his head.

I look at Peter and Helga. They know this game better than anyone.

"How do we bring him back?" I ask them, choking back sobs. They just shake their heads.

I cross the room, tears in my eyes, and join my children around his fallen weapon. I fall to my knees, and hold it in my hands.

[Hagdiun's Hammer] added to inventory.

Hagdiun's Hammer - Rare two-handed mace - requires level 60 - low blunt damage

"A gift from his mother. Growing up, he told her he wanted to be just like his father, the hero with a hammer."

I gasp after reading the description. No, I refuse this. There have been enough tears today. I focus on the memories of my son, the first time I saw him in his mother's arms. How happy she was to hold him. I focus on the light and mercy this holy place is supposed to represent. I focus on the bond we shared, beyond blood.

[Hagdiun] added to inventory.

Hagdiun's Hammer - Epic two-handed mace - requires level 60 - low blunt damage

Sentient: This weapon has a consciousness. It can operate and think independently.

Floating: This weapon has the ability to hover close to the ground.

I open my eyes, unbelieving. I unequip the rest of my weapons, and equip Hagdium.

Father? Where am I?

I don't know what to say. I'm in shock, is it really him?

I… brought you back.

You did? Why can't I feel anything?

You're in your hammer, possessing it. Do you understand?

Not really, sir.

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We'll find a way to bring you back, body and soul. I promise.

I trust you, father.

I stand with my son in my arms. I look at my children, and offer him to them. One at a time, they take him, smile, talk aloud while he talks in their minds, then pass him along. After everyone has gotten a chance to speak with him, I leave to find Earlgor.

He's in the corner of the chapel, kneeling next to the princess, propped up against the wall. She's out cold, but still breathing.

"Can we get a healer over here?" I call. All of my children appear, but allow the healers to the front. They work their magic, bringing the princess back to health, but they can't help the state of her clothes. Torn and bloody, they remain soiled on her newly restored body.

Her eyes open, beholding Earlgor. Conflicting emotions cross her face, but she eventually lands on deep sorrow.

"It's all my fault." is the first thing she says. "I'm so sorry, Earlgor, Earl, it's all my fault!"

"What is?" Earlgor asks

She tries to get the words out, but she's so distraught it's unintelligible.

"I told them where you were hiding." she finally manages to get out.

The world stops.

She's the reason the assassins knew where Lagakh was.

She's the reason she's dead. Not me, not Helga, and not Earlgor.

Her. fault.

I watch Earlgor. His shoulder tense, the pace of his breathing increases. The sword hand twitches.

Instead of reaching for his blade, he reaches for her shoulder.

"It's ok, Rosalie." he tells her.

She looks up at him like he just told her the world's not ending. She covers her mouth and shakes her head.

"They were ready for you… because of me." she admits.

"They tortured you. It's not your fault." he insists.

She just keeps shaking her head, refusing to believe it. He leans down and wraps her in a gentle hug. She cries into his shoulder, hand slowly inching their way up his back to hold on. When she's run out of tears, she pulls away, and they stare into eachothers eyes.

Uh… Hello. Like father, like son?

They kiss. I turn away to give them privacy, and herd my children away.

Helga says: dude, she birthed him. That's a little weird, isn't it?

Earl says: he's less than a month old. Everything is weird.

Peter says: the NPCs are whatever age is required by the story. They're probably both like, late teens early twenties.

Helga says: still weird.

Earl says: Hey, let them have this.

Earlgor finds us nearby, leading the princess by her hand.

"I think I should get her to safety." Earlgor tells us.

"Okay, son." I nod. "I'm proud of you."

He smiles, I see tension leave his body at my words.

Hagdiun?

Yes, father?

How would you like Earlgor to take you with him?

Hmm… you have forgiven him for his indiscretions, it is not my place to judge where the victim has chosen forgiveness. Yes, I would like that.

"Earlgor, before you go." I get his attention. I extend the hammer forward for him to take.

"Are you sure?" he asks, clearly recalling what happened the last time he received a weapon from me.

"You can ask him yourself." I tell him.

He accepts the hammer, his brother. I see the change in his expression when he hears his voice.

"What happened?" Earlgor asks. I almost answer, but Hagdium must be. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, brother." he pauses, listening. "Of course. To die with honor is an orc's calling."

I have something to say about that, but I keep it to myself.

"We shall take our leave, then. Die well, father." Earlgor tells me.

"Live better." I tell my son, holding his shoulder. We share a nod, and he turns to the princess. With Hagdium strapped to his back, he lifts the princess, who yelps, and carries her out of the chapel doors.

"Good for them." Faraine says genuinely, tail swaying behind her.

"Isn't it just like in the stories?" Halanaestra asks her. "The hero swoops in, saves the princess, and they live happily ever after."

"Yeah…" Faraine says dremily, her gaze wandering to Peter.

Oh no. somebody has to tell her.

"Hey honey?" I lean over to whisper to her. She jumps in surprise.

"Oh! Father! What can I do for you?" she asks, beet red.

"He's not into girls, I'm afraid." I tell her.

"Oh." she completely deflates. Her vision shifts again, and she pokes her fingers together. "Is... Paragon Helga, into girls?" she asks, unable to meet my gaze.

"She's very busy." I say without answering the question.

Faraine sighs longingly.

"Where are the dwarves?" Peter asks. "They should have been here."

We all look around, coming up empty.

"Maybe they'll be at the castle already, might have bugged it out." Peter shrugs.

We depart the chapel, Helga gives the kids a lift back to the city proper, PEter and I use our personal mounts for the return trip.

His is some sort of… giant rubber creature.

"What is that?" I ask, watching him bounce along on it like a yoga ball.

"Slime." he says, without elaborating further.

"Cool." I say. What an odd, jiggly creature.

"Your goats look well cared for." Voron tells me.

"Mmm. Well fed, well groomed." Chathanglas adds.

"Delectable." Tsildea completes their collective thought.

"No eating my goats." I wag a finger at them.

They stop licking their chops and grumble.

The smoke rising from the city has turned into full-blown blaze, engulfing anything not made of pure brick. Peter takes the lead, navigating us through the clearest passage. Even so, we have to avoid burning patches of ground and piles of bodies littering the street.

My deep-seated hatred of the Honorlord is starting to feel like a matter of perspective. I'd feel the exact same way about him if this guy was my king. He seems like the same flavor of asshole as the honorlord.

…I could have phrased that better.

The castle stands unguarded, barely escaping the flames that surround it. Dismounted, we make our way through halls decorated with dozens of paintings of the king. Not of his predecessors, or only daughter, just him. Laying the narcissism on thick, this guy.

"Ungrateful ingrates!" a voice booms from further in. the crack of a whip, followed by screaming, echoes after.

We hurry, arriving in the trone room before he claims another victim.

"Ah! So nice of you to join us." the human king stands on his throne, whip in hand.

King Julies Lambert the 3rd. Level 72

The room is filled to bursting with citizens, some armed and armored, some simple peastents with farming implements. They all watch us, terrified looks on their faces.

"I have given so much for this kingdom. Did you know point oh two percent of my monthly profits go directly back into improving it? Point oh two percent! And yet, that is not enough for them!" he whips a random target, producing a shrill cry of pain. "They're bleeding me dry!"

I roll my eyes.

"Peter, what's the deal with this fight?" I ask, ready to move thing along.

"He'll send his entire kingdom at us all at once. If we survive that, he's a total pushover." He responds.

"Hmm…" I scratch my chin.

"What?" Peter asks worriedly.

"I wonder if I could overpower his control." I tell him.

He makes a disgruntled noise.

"Fine, go ahead and try. It's for the good of the people, otherwise it will be a massacre." he crosses his arms.

"Alright, everybody hang back." I move to the front of the room, and stand before the crowd. "You don't need to listen to him. There are so many of you, and only one of him!"

They look around nervously, clearly wondering who will turncoat first.

"I own them!" the king declares, unfurling a long scroll. "You see this?" he points at the text. "'I hereby relinquish my personhood to King Julies Lambert, third of his name. My worldly possessions are his upon my death. My right to sue…"

"Yeah yeah, you're an evil fascist. I get it, dude. You don't need to try so hard." I wave him away.

"How dare you!" he clutches his literal pearls. "Good people of humanity, hear me. The orcs have fooled you into thinking you are free. This is a lie told by the wicked, to convince the gullible that such a thing is possible. I serve the gods, and you serve me. This is the way of the world."

"Fucking hell." I dispense most of my weapons, reserving Kingmaker for an emergency. They swarm the king, who becomes immune to damage.

"Rid my beautiful kingdom of their filth!" he cracks the whip, and as one, thousands of humans charge me.

I close my eyes, reach out with my hands, and focus. Their pounding footsteps fall into a rhythm, the world grows more quiet… then the sound stops.

I open my eyes to see the legion stopped before me. Each and every look to me like a god, so far above them as to be unreachable. I see my eyes reflected in their armor, they glow like a monster's.

"Eat the rich." I command.

In one synchronized motion, the innumerable horde turns. It would be twice as terrifying if i were the target of their aggression, as is evident on the king's face.

"Do! I feed you, house you, give you happiness! You owe your lives to me!" she screeches as they approach like the unstoppable undead. He attempts to whip them, but Thozur flies in his path, looping the length around them, and pulling it from his grasp.

Like a school of piranhas, the humans descend, and literally consume the king.

… I may have chosen my command poorly.

I turn to face my family. The more animalistic among them are clapping and howling with approval. The less animalistic are not as enthused. Especially Peter.

I cringe, he just shakes his head like a disappointed father.

"You know, I can't be too mad. Even dumbed down, that would have been a tough fight if you didn't have ridiculous, broken abilities." Peter shrugs.

"Next dungeon?" I ask.

"Well, first you have to figure out what to do with the thousands of human citizens that are supposed to be dead now." he points behind me.

They all stand, staring at me with a look of deep worry on their faces.

oh.