Progenitor's Burden

It's time.

Sinclair shifted his focus towards preparing for the final door's challenge. Given his near-80-point endurance, he didn't require much rest, but he still saw some benefit to not entering the trial immediately. I should take some time to familiarize myself with the hatchets. Hey, maybe I can work out how to use Cleave without half killing and blinding myself.

Opening his inventory, he promptly equipped the twin hatchets, thought for a moment, and swapped them for the more familiar heft of his larger ax. Mentally preparing himself for what lay ahead, he approached the nearest tree.

I'm sorry tree. You didn't do anything to deserve this, but I'm going to murder you now like a blue-eyed psychopath.

With a swift, powerful swing, Sinclair sliced right through the wood. It went through so easily in fact, that Sinclair, expecting at least some resistance, spun around and fell on his ass. Well, that was simultaneously really impressive and really, really embarrassing. As the tree began its slow descent—away from him, fortunately—he glanced between the Ax and the fresh stump, a mix of awe and disbelief evident on his face.

Eager to test the limits of the ax, Sinclair scanned the area for a thicker tree, settling on a sturdy-looking one about four feet in diameter. If a tree falls in a system-generated forest ... will it land on me? Standing tall, he took a deep breath and raised the ax, channeling all his strength into a fierce downward swing. This time, the ax didn't split the tree in one blow, but the gash it left was nearly two feet deep.

Reflecting on the tedious days of his youth, helping his father chop wood, Sinclair marveled at his newfound prowess. The sensation of the earlier use of Cleave lingered, and he tried to harness the feeling. Carefully visualizing the flow of mana from his body and through into the ax, he saw the energy surging in his mind; gradually, the ax began to emit a soft red glow. Curious about the potential, he channeled more power, stopping only when he'd drained fifty mana points. Once more, he squared off against the tree, ax at the ready, feet firmly braced against the impact of such a highly empowered swing.

Despite cutting a foot higher than before, to measure the impact against undamaged wood, the tree was felled in a single strike. Watching it fall was both exhilarating and mind boggling. I really am superman! But that's kind of all I am: a meathead. I need to find a trainer soon, so I can learn to use more than just my strength to hit things hard. Sinclair worked his way around the building, felling the largest trees he could find, in order to get used to the feel of the new ax. Soon he felt comfortable with the process of empowering his strikes with mana, and swapped over to the new hatchets.

On a whim, Sinclair tried something new. Once again, he loaded the hatchet full of mana, but instead of striking at the nearest trunk, he aimed for a distant tree and threw. The result was a mixed blessing: the explosion as the hatchet hit the tree was glorious, as was the extraordinary amount of visible splash damage to the bark. On the other hand, the ax landed poorly and—instead of embedding into the tree blade first—it bounced off the wood handle-first and went spinning into the underbrush. It was an hour before Sinclair managed to find the damn thing.

Deciding that he had done enough for now he went to sit next to his new friends and prepared to catch a little sleep. He scratched their heads and talked to them about anything and everything that came to his mind, as he started to finally relax. Before long he started to nod off; He fell asleep with a cub under each hand.

Sinclair woke up to a rough tongue sandpapering his ear. Oh, so wolfie kisses are my alarm clock now. Laughing, he pushed them out of his face, rolled over and gazed happily at the lightning clouds. Responding to his new companions—making their needs clear, very loudly—he gathered together food for their repast.

"Right then. I'd better tell you guys what I'm actually going to be up to today. In a minute I am going to be going in that door over there and I have no idea what happens - I think I disappear? So you two need to stay here and guard the camp. I would bring you guys with me, but I just don't know what to expect, and I don't think it's likely that I'll be able to protect you." Two sets of wolf pup eyes looked at him expectantly. "Er... You stay. Guard camp. I go? Man, I feel like I should be saying 'Me Ugg, Strong Ugg'"

Neither pup moved or looked away. He wasn't sure if they understood or not, so he just had to hope they would not be too upset when he vanished. They could wake me up in a much worse way than with licks if I got on their bad side. Yikes. Striding to the door, Sinclair sighed when he heard the two pups following him. Well, this is going to be about as difficult as I expected. Turning around, he told them—again— to wait at camp. They didn't even blink. That's a bit creepy. Either they're much smarter than I realized, or much stupider than I expected. They continued to stare at him until he continued on to the door.

As Sinclair stepped through the final door, he felt two sets of teeth clamp down on his pants leg. Much smarter than I realized it is then..

As soon as he had appeared in the new location, he glared down at the two animals. "Okay. I know you two can understand me; you had one chance to pretend to be stupid so I hope it was worth it. You know, this place could be dangerous. I might not be able to protect you, so you need to be careful." Chewie yipped and wagged his tail a little in confirmation. Walking off, Sinclair soon found himself with a wolf pup a few inches to either side of him, a few inches behind. How come they're not right next to me? Is that them accepting dominance or something?

Moments later, he received the expected system message.

New Quest: Uruz - Test of the Chieftain

Description: In days of old, future leaders would prove their worth through trials of guardianship and strategy before commanding their own hirds. Embrace this tradition by safeguarding a nearby caravan desperately in need of defense. Escort them safely to the nearest village, ensuring the well-being of those you lead.

Just as the ancient chieftains of yore were tested in their ability to lead and defend, so too will you be judged. This task harkens back to an age where the safety and unity of a group were the responsibility of its leader – a true test of a ruler's resolve and commitment to their people.

Goal: Get the caravan safely to its destination

Rewards: Your success will be judged by the number of lives preserved under your leadership. The greater the number of survivors upon reaching the village, the more substantial your reward.

Note: This trial is not only a test of strength but of your capability to lead and inspire those who follow you.

Sinclair rubbed his hands together and looked around for a trail that would lead him to the road. Looking down at his companions he remarked, "You two wouldn't somehow happen to know where the road is, would you?"

Like an arrow from a bow they launched forward. Man, I love the way young animals run when they're still growing into their own size. Wait, hang on, where are they going? Jumping forward, Sinclair started sprinting after them, shouting admonitions and ordering them not to approach other people.

Running through the woods was a surreal feeling. From dumped to... humped? No, that's awful. Well, it's been a helluva week. Soon the trio came up to a nearby rise covered with shrubs and some small trees. The pups had gotten out of sight, so he slowed down a little bit to scan the area. There, just at the bottom of the rise, was the exact road he was looking for.

Chewy and Leia were hunkered down in some bushes just off to his right. In the distance he could just make out the caravan as it winded down the trail. It looked like it was made up of several small wagons, accompanied by many people on foot, and with one or two people on mounts. The flag looked familiar: a stylized raven on a white background. That looks a lot like the one carried by Jarl Hrondir's men.

Following the line of his eyes, Sinclair's sight was captured by the slightest glint of light reflecting off metal. Hunkering down, he stared at the spot as he brought more detail into focus. Just beyond the tree line, there were people waiting. Armed people. An ambush.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

The Quest says I need to protect the caravan so I might as well start with the ambush point. Sliding back from the edge of the hill, Sinclair walked toward the caravan until the point at which he knew he would be out of the vision cone of the ambushers. He stepped out on the road and started walking away from the caravan, gesturing behind his back at Chewy and Leia, telling them to stay.

If any reminder was needed that Sinclair's stats had grown to superhuman proportions—or that he wasn't one for taking the safe option—it was that he had no doubt of succeeding in a one versus many fight with the ambushers. He equipped his hatchets and let them rest in their sheaths along his back. They won't be able to see them immediately ... it'll make me look even more helpless. Well, except for being a massive lump of muscle, of course. Hoping that greed would overpower any nervousness at his large frame, Sinclair slid his money pouch over to the side nearest to the attackers.

One step at a time, he walked towards the ambush, whistling nonchalantly. With each step, he focused the energy in his body, convincing it to become smooth and calm. Once he had stepped within ten feet of where he had previously spotted the ambushers, two men stepped out; they sported mismatched armor and swords pock-marked with rust.

"Hey stranger, nice day we're having, see? How about you hand over that money pouch, and anything else of value on your person while you're at it. Or, we can kill you, see? But don't worry, it's your lucky day, for we will even let you choose. And I apologize for rushing you, but there is a caravan coming and we've been paid good to kill them, so we don't have much time to deal with you, see?"

Sinclair responded with a quick Analyze.

Name: Jonny

Race: Human (although you'd be forgiven for thinking otherwise)

Level: 9

Class: Raider

Health: 280/300

Description: Raiders—often known as highway robbers—are opportunistic criminals who prey upon travelers and caravans along lesser-guarded roads and trade routes. Typically operating in bands, these marauders use a combination of stealth, intimidation, and force to ambush and overpower their victims, looting their valuables and supplies. On rare occasions, they are known to take captives, typically for ransom. They are usually well-armed and can be ruthless. They are often known for their lack of mercy and they are quick to choose violence. Their camps are often hidden, making it difficult for authorities to root them out, and they may have informants in local settlements to aid their illicit activities.

Well, he said he was in a rush. Sinclair shrugged, ducked slightly, and launched both hatchets at the surprised men. The first landed cleanly and the bandit decorated the floor with an arc of blood. The second was deflected, but the force of the blow was so strong that the defending scumbag had to backpedal in order to keep his balance. Sinclair used the moment of confusion and closed the distance, equipping his larger ax as he did so.

Sweeping left to right, he cut deeply into the first raider's leg, causing him to fall and scream out. Blood spurted forth, suggesting a severed artery. Guess you won't be getting up any time soon, see? Spinning towards the other raider, Sinclair invested 25 points of mana and let forth a Cleave. The result was... messy. The blade caught the hapless defender on the inside of the collar bone; the blade slid down and opened the man down to the rib cage.

Backing up a little, Sinclair could hear rustling in the trees. More people must be on their way. He was preparing to duck behind a tree and ambush the ambushers, when he in turn was surprised by a sudden impact to his back, paired with a flash of pain. He was, however, nothing if not a mountain of a man himself now, and like a mountain the blow did not shift him. Across the road, a smug archer, expecting to have just killed the stranger attacking his fellow bandits, was taken aback as his would-be victim slowly turned, surprise on his face. To the archer's relief, the man ran further into the trees.

Having entered into the copse behind him, Sinclair found himself face to face with five more raiders. Any observer would have been hard pressed to decide who was more surprised, but there would have been no doubt that Sinclair was the first to react. He pumped mana into Cleave and swung horizontally at the five men, packed too closely together to avoid the blow. The closest two dropped straight to the ground with a loud explosion and flash of energy; the other three were lifted off the ground and partially spun around, before landing awkwardly and clambering back to their feet.

Never one to miss an opportunity, Sinclair readied his ax, only to have to roll out of the way as a spear was launched at him by the rearmost raider. As he came back to his feet, Sinclair lashed out, killing the two most badly-injured raiders and fatally wounding the spearman. Where I lack training and skill, at least I can make up for it with pure force. Leaning forward, he punched one of the two remaining bandits, stepped over his prone body, and sunk his ax so deeply into the last man's arm that he was pinned to a tree. Leaving him there to bleed out, he spun round once again to stand over the remaining enemy, who was trying to get to his feet. A boot came down, and the life of the final bandit was ended. Now for that archer.

As he stepped out onto the road again, ready to take down the archer, he was bemused to see the archer desperately trying to dodge two rapidly moving heaps of fur. The archer was freely bleeding from several cuts, and wasn't looking over at Sinclair in the slightest.

Casually, Sinclair recovered his hatchets, closed one eye, and took careful aim. He threw the hatchet with style and panache... and it landed handle first. Fortunately, the blow was hard enough to make the archer stagger, and he saw Chewie lurch in and take a chunk out of the bandit's hamstring. Sinclair rushed over to the now-useless archer and knocked the bow out of his hand. Time for me to get some answers.

Sinclair held him up by the collar of his garments and questioned the bandit, "Who paid you to kill these people?"

Snarling a little, the archer spit bloody phlegm at his chest. "Why does it matter to you? It's not like you can do anything. Jarl Skagnar will just send more people to wash out the local villages of the fools who rejected his promise of protection."

So there is a local bully extorting people for money. "Ah, I see. It's like that. Let us 'protect' you, or we'll be the one's attacking you? Where I come from, that's pretty dishonorable."

The archer looked at Sinclair blankly. "Dishonorable? You know I'm a bandit, right? Look, I was just hired to do a job. It's nothing personal."

"There are children in that caravan. Killing children is always personal."

Sinclair equipped a javelin—stored from the previous tutorial—and sunk it into the archer's chest, angled down to emerge from the pathetic man's rear end. He left him there, like some sort of bloody statue: a monument to his actions. Watching the archer die, he was surprised to discover that he didn't feel all that bad. As far as he was concerned, those who planned to kill innocents deserved to die themselves. I wonder when I became so callous to all this violence? Sinclair's stomach roiled as doubts crashed in.

Spotting his distress, Chewy and Leia walked out of the bushes, looking as pleased as punch. Sinclair couldn't keep a grin from his face. "Didn't I tell you to stay hidden? You could have gotten hurt." Leaning down he scratched their fuzzy heads. Keeping them out of trouble was going to be a full time job. A job that's going to give me gray hair.

Sinclair looted the corpses.

Enemies Defeated: 8

Experience Awarded: 360

Loot gained:

Gold Coin x1

Silver Coins x45

Your skills have improved!

Dual Axes: has increased from Level 5 to Level 6

Cleave: has increased from Level 0 to Level 2

New Items: Poor Quality Boots (Common) x2

New Items: Average Quality Iron Cuirass (Common)

New Items: Poor Quality Shortswords (Common) x2

With some chagrin, Sinclair realized that a lot of equipment had been destroyed during the fight. My brute force style did not lend itself to being careful with enemy armor or weapons. Deciding to wait for the caravan, rather than heading to meet it, Sinclair walked over to the nearest shade to relax. He sat down, weapons stowed, with a pup to either side, and waited for the lead rider to spot him.

Minutes later, the lead rider came to a halt in front of Sinclair. "It looks like you took care of some bandits. I assume they were planning on ambushing my caravan, but... why would you help Jarl Hrondir with no promised reward?"

Sinclair decided that honesty was, as usual, the best policy. "I recently helped Jarl Hrondir in protecting a pass from some Draugr, and it would seem that the gods have once more sent me to aid his people. I talked a little to our 'friends' here, before they suddenly dropped dead around me, and they were apparently paid to stop you. I imagine there will be more ambushes on the road ahead. If you will accept my help, I will happily work together."

At the discovery that he was face to face with the legend who had held the pass, the man was visibly shocked. "I would be honored to fight alongside such a hero. The Jarl told us about your deeds. You saved the lives of my family."

Feeling a little awkward, Sinclair rubbed the back of his head and forged on. "Erm... you're welcome? Let's get the rest of the group up here and then we can get going. Let me introduce you to my miscreants—I mean, my companions. Please, tell your people not to shoot them." So instructed, the rider turned his horse and rode off back towards the main body of the caravan.

Twenty minutes later, the main caravan came upon him, chilled out in the sunshine, leaning back against a tree stump with both pups laying at his feet. Catching sight of the lead rider once again, Sinclair realized he'd failed to introduce himself before. "I apologize for not introducing myself before. I believe we also met the night of the pass, and I failed to do so then as well. My name is Sinclair Hagerson, and it would seem we are destined to walk the same road once again."

The driver set the brake on the cart and hopped down to greet him. "I greet you, Sinclair, son of Hager. I remember you, and I remember your deeds and your heroism. I am Bjorn Egil, second of my name. Our clan will never forget what you did for us that night. If you have been sent to aid us again, I am gladdened, but worried about what that may mean. We have another day of travel before we get where we are going. We lost several warriors over the course of winter keeping the remaining Draugr out of our village, and in the end our elders chose to find another place for us to live. You met us on our way to that new home, a nearby town that is growing. They will give us space to join them while, we hope, allowing us to retain our own way of life."

Sinclair marveled at the world building, but was particularly struck by the way time had moved differently between words. For him, it had been mere days since he had defended the pass against the Draugr, while for them it had clearly been months, based on the weather alone. Such thoughts filled his mind as he stood and joined the caravan for the next stage of the journey.