Dance: Ten; Charisma: Three, page 21
“We do, sometimes,” the cute fieldfolk answered. “But quests often require killing your opponents. And you can only gain experience points or loot from a slain enemy, not a captured one.”
I held up a hand. “Wait. So Eliza, your weirdly-named god lady, wants you all to kill each other?”
The six of them exchanged looks around the table. Kullbrut finally answered, “Yes. Most of the time.”
“As Randin said,” Oquia continued, “Anthem is a dangerous world. Leveling up is the best way to stay strong, and stay alive. And experience points are the only way to level up.”
“If there were some other way,” Teek the Trickster added, “I’m sure we’d all take it.”
Everybody but Kullbrut nodded in agreement immediately. The barbarian looked surprised, then added his own, much less convincing, nod.
“In any event, taking an opponent alive is not easy,” Hayjen said. “Sometimes an enemy surrenders. But if not, you have no choice but to continue the fight until they are reduced to zero health points.”
“And everybody dies at zero health points?” I asked. “No exceptions?”
“None.”
I took a deep breath and let it out, blowing the air out of my cheeks. “That fucking sucks.”
Hayjen raised his glass to me. “It does, indeed, fucking suck.”
I jumped as Assif slammed a fresh tankard of ale in front of me. “Oh. I didn’t order—”
“I know you didn’t.” Assif gestured to a far table. “He’s been covering you all night. Pre-paid for Jarakar’s breakfast, too.”
I looked to where he’d indicated. Hort sat with his friends, pretending not to look at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Huh.”
Maybe I’d been too hard on him. If this whole world really was as kill-or-be-killed as the trainers said, I could hardly blame Hort for being a little cavalier about it.
I picked up the drink and raised it to him, nodding my thanks. The handsome older sentry grinned, looking greatly relieved to be out of the doghouse.
I took a big swig of the sweet, bready ale. Tomorrow I’d figure out a way to get myself home that didn’t involve rampant carnage.
Tonight I was gonna get good and drunk.
Twenty-seven
I woke up feeling surprisingly good, considering the truly absurd number of ales I had drunk the night before. No hangover at all. I was a little groggy and confused, but only to an extent that was normal for waking up in a strange place.
My sleepy brain played detective to figure out where I was. I was in a bed, with a heavy wool blanket over me. I was naked. So was the person I was big-spooning. So was the person who was big-spooning me. The person I had my arms around was breathing heavily but nearly silently; they sounded asleep. So did the person with their arm around me, who was snoring rather loudly and I think drooling on my back.
Right. I remembered. Randin the sex priest was who I was cuddling, and Hort the lovable oaf had his meaty arm draped over us both. The three of us had stayed up talking and drinking long after everyone else had gone to bed, and when Assif told us to get out, Randin suggested we go up to his room to continue the party. Which we did. I called middle and the rest is a pleasant, if slightly foggy, memory.
I blinked my eyes open and lifted my head slightly. It was a pretty basic room. Dark, smooth planks of wood with one shuttered window letting a good amount of light in around the edges. Well past sunrise, then. A chair in the corner and, at the foot of the bed, a chest which Randin had clearly not made use of, as his pack lay half-open on the floor, with clothes and personal items scattered everywhere. Mine and Hort’s clothes were similarly distributed, but his wooden staff and my backpack and lute were tucked neatly away in a corner.
And the bed. Good god, the bed was glorious. I don’t know what the mattress was stuffed with but it was like lying on cotton candy. Firm, supportive cotton candy. Okay, it wasn’t anything like cotton candy, but it was comfortable as hell. Same with the pillow. If my left arm wasn’t numb from Randin sleeping on it all night, I’d never want to move again.
Which was, in and of itself, weird, because this was my third day in Anthem and I still didn’t have to pee. Or poop. I’d noted the lack of hangover but I wasn’t even thirsty despite drinking my weight in booze. And I hadn’t eaten since that pot pie yesterday morning, which had to be at least twenty-four hours ago, and I was only feeling a teensy bit peckish instead of gluttonously ravenous.
Name: Ewen
Class: Artist
Species: Human
Level: 3
XP: 760
HP: 33/33
MP: 21/21
Attributes
Strength: 7
Coordination: 8
Constitution: 13
Knowledge: 7
Acumen: 7
Fortitude: 7
Faith: 8
Charisma: 4
Creativity: 6
3 attribute points to assign.
Physical Subattributes
Running Endurance: 1
Running Speed: 1
4 subattribute points to assign.
Debuffs
Hungry (weak)
You suffer a -1 penalty to mental attribute rolls.
Becomes Hungry (moderate) after 24 hours.
Eating removes this debuff.
And there it was. I was weakly hungry, but no other problems. I remembered seeing a drunk debuff the night before, so I clicked over to the log to read the most recent entries concerning my alcohol consumption, quickly finding the worst it had gotten.
You have been afflicted with Drunk (severe).
Drunk (severe)
You suffer a -15 penalty to Coordination and Acumen attribute rolls.
You gain a +10 bonus to Fortitude attribute rolls.
Becomes Drunk (extreme) after a number of standard alcoholic beverages equal to your Constitution divided by 4, rounded up.
Becomes Drunk (moderate) after abstaining from alcohol for 1 hour.
Checking the history of the drunk debuffs allowed me to piece together my ale consumption. My Constitution was thirteen, which meant I had four drinks before I got to Drunk (weak), eight drinks had gotten me to Drunk (moderate), and then twelve to my final state of severe inebriation. I hadn’t gotten to Drunk (extreme), which means I must have quit somewhere between twelve and fifteen ales. Yipes. Had I really drunk that much? That was excessive, even for me. I remembered Randin and Hort encouraging me to keep going whenever I expressed concern about feeling it in the morning. They didn’t understand what I meant and I was too drunk to explain. From the debuff descriptions, every hour without drinking knocked the drunkenness down a level until it was gone. Didn’t look like there were any consequences beyond that. Were hangovers just not a thing here? No wonder they all drank so much.
I hadn’t given my character sheet a good look-see since I’d first discovered it, and I’d learned a decent amount about how the world worked since then, so I took the moment of peace to think my situation through. I had three more attribute points to assign from reaching level three. I still felt the urge to put them all into Constitution for the extra health points, but the trainers’ advice made me question if the obvious path towards being harder to kill was actually the best path towards being harder to kill. There didn’t seem to be any time limit so I decided to hold off.
Same with the subattribute points. Being able to run away faster had saved my butt from the kidnappers, but I was still hoping I’d unlock that one that made you hotter. I couldn’t afford a mirror, but I had a whole repertoire of pretty looks ready to practice anyway. Call me shallow, but I didn’t know how much damage control I’d have to do on my career by the time I got home. I’d take any advantage I could get.
Skills
3 skill points to assign.
Physical Skills (2/10)
Armed Combat: Dagger - Tier I (0)
Attribute: Coordination
Provides a bonus to Coordination rolls when attacking with a dagger or similar weapon.
Provides an additional damage bonus, equal to the tier, with such weapons.
Unarmed Combat: Kicking - Tier I (3)
Attribute: Coordination
Provides a bonus to Coordination rolls when kicking an opponent.
Provides an additional damage bonus, equal to the tier, when kicking.
Mental Skills (2/7)
Assess Creature - Tier I (0)
Attribute: Acumen
Reveals the name, species, order, and level of any one creature.
Target must be visible.
If the target has a means of resisting assessment, provides a bonus to Acumen rolls when attempting to overcome that resistance.
Assess Person - Tier I (0)
Attribute: Acumen
Reveals the name, pursuit, class, subclass, species, and level of any one person.
Target must be visible.
If the target has a means of resisting assessment, provides a bonus to Acumen rolls when attempting to overcome that resistance.
Spiritual Skills (4/6)
Acting - Tier I (0)
Attribute: Creativity
You are a more convincing actor than the average person.
Provides a bonus to effects involving acting.
Dancing - Tier I (0)
Attribute: Creativity
You are a better dancer than the average person.
Provides a bonus to effects involving dancing.
Singing - Tier I (0)
Attribute: Creativity
You have a more pleasing singing voice than the average person.
Provides a bonus to effects involving singing.
Sob Story - Tier I (0)
Attribute: Creativity
Provides a bonus when negotiating a more favorable interaction by invoking pity in the target.
If I could use my Kicking skill to kick myself in the head for dumping three points into it, I would, because it had been useless so far. If I had saved those points I could have used them in one of my triple-threat skills. My two spells had been very useful, and it seemed like increasing either Singing or Dancing would make them more so, so I wondered if I should dump my three skill points into one of them. And while I had room for plenty more physical and mental skills, I already had more than half my available spiritual skill slots filled. The max was based on the average of my three spiritual attribute scores, so if I put all three attribute points into Creativity, that would help my most important skills and spells in a way I didn’t understand yet, and increase the maximum number of spiritual skills to… uh… math. Bigger. A bigger number, which was better.
That seemed smart… but so had putting all my points into Constitution. I just didn’t know. I decided to keep waiting until I had some more clarity.
Spells
3 spell points to assign.
Spells: 2/8
Channeling Aberration (Distraction): None (0%)
Come from Away - Tier I (0)
Attribute: Creativity
Domain: Distraction
Articulation: Sing the chorus to “Welcome to the Rock” from the musical Come from Away.
MP: 6
Duration: Creativity times 3 minutes
Compels all who hear the song to seek out its source at the location from which they heard it originate. If the caster moves from that spot, all targets will ignore them, continuing to search for the song at or near their original location. If the caster remains in place, the spell will be broken when the targets locate and identify the caster as the source of the song.
A successful Fortitude roll vs. the spell’s MAS resists the effect. If failed, another roll may be attempted every 3 minutes.
Dance Fever - Tier I (0)
Attribute: Creativity
Domain: Distraction
Articulation: Perform your dance solo from the song “Off the Rails” from the musical Chugging Along.
MP: 6
Duration: Creativity times 2 minutes
Compels all who witness the dance to perform it themselves to the best of their ability. This urge to dance is contagious, spreading to all who see any target perform it.
A successful Fortitude roll vs. the spell’s MAS resists the effect. Those who succeed require another Fortitude roll to resist every minute that an affected target is visible.
Being attacked dispels the effect. If the effect is dispelled from a target, they cannot be affected by it again unless it is recast.
I was quickly getting to like the idea that I could cast actual magic spells. It was the one thing about this place that had any kind of leg up on home. But that bit about “channeling aberration” was worrying. What had Oquia said about it? That using magic too much could change my personality. Mildly terrifying. I didn’t know exactly how it worked, but I guessed that “None” meant that nothing had happened to my brain yet, and I wasn’t yet any percentage of the way towards the next stage, which was probably when I’d start to feel it.
I had to remember to keep a close eye on that number, but I’d keep casting spells until it got a little higher. Magic was fun. And I bet I could learn more if I tried. Come from Away had been an accident, but I’d come up with Dance Fever all by myself. I’d hold off on assigning those spell points, though. Maybe I could teach myself something even cooler.
I flipped over to my inventory page.
Inventory
Slots: 1/70
2 SP, 13 CP
Location: Backpack of Convenience
Slots: 1
Clothes
Location: Nearby
Slots: 1
Durability: Average
Quality: Average
Clothes of common design, suitable for everyday wear and for adventuring.
A simple tunic and trousers, sturdy boots, and a warm pair of socks.
Backpack of Convenience
Location: Nearby
Slots: 1
Capacity: 3/20
Durability: Average
Quality: Average
When reaching into this backpack, the desired stored object will come immediately to hand.
Cannot hold individual items that take up more than 5 slots.
Lute
Location: Nearby
Slots: 2
Durability: Fragile
Quality: Poor
A basic stringed instrument.
Dagger
Location: Backpack of Convenience
Slots: 1
Durability: Average
Quality: Average
Damage: 1-4 HP
An ordinary dagger.
Bottle, potion
Location: Backpack of Convenience
Slots: 1
Durability: Average
Quality: Average
This glass bottle is a good size for holding magical potions, although it won’t hold much of anything unless the broken seal is replaced.
+1 Ring of Charisma
Location: Right hand
Slots: 1
Durability: Strong
Quality: High
When worn, this ring adds 1 to your Charisma attribute.
Not bad for arriving two days ago naked and destitute. I hadn’t spent any money on last night’s drunken binge, thanks to Hort. Two silver pieces and thirteen copper pieces didn’t feel like a lot of money, though, so I should probably watch my spending. Not my strong suit. I liked shopping. The lack of online delivery would help keep me in check.
Something was missing, though. What was it? Oh, right, I remembered. Helga’s shitty knife. It broke when I died but I’d been carrying the pieces around in my backpack. I’d been planning on throwing it away but I’d never gotten around to it. What happened to it?
I dismissed my character sheet, shrinking it back down to that little yellow dot in the corner of my vision. I felt ready to get up and face the morning, or possibly the afternoon, but I was sandwiched between my slumbering bedmates, and extricating myself without waking them seemed impossible. Without intending to, I let out a heavy sigh.
“That doesn’t sound like morning-after contentment to me,” Randin whispered.
“Oh, sorry,” I whispered back. “Don’t worry, I’m extremely content with my current position. Are you comfortable?”
“Quite.” He pressed his back against my chest, and slid one of his feet to rest on my thigh. “I love sex with medium sized people. It’s like climbing a sexy mountain.”
“Medium?”
“Yes, humans are medium, fieldfolk are small.”
“Um…” I hesitated. I mean, Randin was about three feet tall, so from my perspective small was an accurate description, but I didn’t know if it was one of those things it was okay for him to say but not me.
He laughed at my awkwardness. “Do people in your world not come in sizes?”
“They do, but I think not in the way you mean.”
“Everything here ranges in size from minuscule to colossal. Most people you’ll encounter in urban settings will be small or medium, occasionally large.”
“And that’s not, like, a touchy subject for some people? Is there any discrimination against small or large people?”
“Occasionally. Since this village is mostly human, it’s hard to find anything sized for fieldfolk. Assif has some appropriate chairs, thankfully, but I can’t buy much of anything from that shop. But I don’t think you were sighing because of the difficulties faced by peoples of non-medium sizes in human-majority settlements, were you?”
“No. I was going to shimmy out of bed to check my backpack but I didn’t know how to do it without waking the two of you.”
“Well, I’m awake. What about our generously-endowed friend? Has our sad attempt at a hushed conversation awoken him?”
A loud combo snort and snore from Hort gave us the answer.
Randin laughed. “What did you wish to check in your backpack?”
“I had a knife, but it’s not in my inventory anymore.”
“Really? Do you think it was stolen?”
“I don’t know why anyone would want it. It was broken.”
“Ah.” Randin twisted his head back to look at me, though from our position we couldn’t quite make eye contact. “Was its durability given as destroyed?”
