God Class, page 30
There were three of the five emissaries waiting for them. Their broad wing contraptions of wood, cloth, and rope hung on their backs. The five emissaries were capable of long-distance flight with these devices, taking off from the enormous treetops of their homeland and navigating the air currents of the ocean to maintain their glide. They were all thin and tall, different from the muscled warriors standard of House Cilipe, with narrowed eyes that seemed to always be glaring at the world around them. They were female, as were a majority of the warriors and prominent figures of the matriarchal House Cilipe, and they held sling-staffs strapped to their backs with pouches of iron balls at their hips. Unique weaponry that would be offensive for anyone other than the emissaries to use.
Fujiwara Sonju didn’t care about their feelings. He planned to ask the new head of House Cilipe to ask for permission to adopt this weapon. Sonju could already picture launching alchemical bombs from a distance and blowing away enemy forces, maybe even from the sky if he played his cards right.
“Honored emissaries of House Cilipe,” Sonju said with a slight bow, removing his tricorn and placing it to his chest. He stood, putting it back on his head and sharing a smile. They did not return that smile. “I see we are two short today, what a shame that they have to miss the festivities.”
The three looked to one another, their blonde hair was almost white against the sun, which was a trademark of their people, and the middle one shrugged.
“Festivities?” She asked. “We were not aware of festivities. But sadly, our companions are on other business with House Napent.”
“Ah, yes. Napent. I must imagine they are having a… bleak time.” Sonju waved them to follow him and looked toward a large building. He continued to talk as they moved through the island. “I would have to assume it is the same message as you have brought me?”
“Not quite, Captain,” an emissary said, moving up to walk alongside of him. She made a sour expression as she looked down on the rough sand that now coated her white silk skirt and leather-bound sandals. “We request Napent’s audience and attendance, but the arbitration will solely fall to you, as our closest ally.”
“You flatter me,” Sonju answered. “Sayalah, yes?”
The lead emissary nodded. “Yes, Captain. That is my name.”
“And, if I may be so bold, why are you not counted among those to take the head position of House Cilipe? Surely someone of the same surname would be a better fit then a few of these others listed.”
Sayalah bit her tongue for a moment, her lips flattening into a line and her brow holding back from giving away her annoyance. Sonju picked up on it and was lulled by the chord he had struck with the distant heir of Serrula. He glanced back over his shoulder, quirking his lip wolfishly to Djamila.
“I would bet my finest ship that one of the same bloodlines, an emissary no less, would be of better status? Or have I been removed from the workings of the Lancia for so long that I have misunderstood their customs?”
“No, Captain,” Sayalah managed to say through clenched teeth. “I… I am afraid that my position in the emissary unit is far too valuable to be upended for a leadership position.”
“Oh, nonsense!” Sonju exclaimed, batting the air with his hand. “I’m sure there are young warriors practically eating one another to have a position amongst the elite emissaries of the Lancia, and surely there is no one more suited than-”
“Yes, Captain,” Sayalah interjected once they reached the door to the handmade banquet hall. “I am sure we both understand the complex nature of our House. Now, may we enter and break bread over the coming election?”
Fujiwara Sonju never let his grin diminish. He stood before the wide door of the banquet hall, which had been used for an island meeting the night before then a grappling combat training room the night before that and gave three even taps on the wood. His knuckles echoed, and only a moment later the door slowly began to open, revealing long tables, evenly placed chairs, and a variety of plated food.
“If it was bread you were hoping for, I am afraid that we cannot accommodate,” Sonju said, waving them inside. “Luckily, we have fish, and plenty of it. Let us feast, my sisters.”
They entered, turning their noses at the seafood spread, along with the raw wood of the walls and the crude nature of the seating. Sonju never let his grin escape him. House Cilipe was far too serious for its own good anyways, and Sonju felt the need to joke at their expense whenever he possibly could. Besides, the days were long on the island and the minutes had to be passed somehow. So, as they entered the hall for an honorary meal before finalizing their election arrangements, Sonju could only grin at just how many minutes he would pass.
Moving through the forest during a dryer day was a much easier time than through the storm.
There were still patches of mud and deep puddles, but they were easy to navigate for the most part. Every now and then Tulk would exclaim things in his native tongue that Silas could only assume were curse words, reminding him of his disorderly uncle back in the real world, but the trainer quickly got over it. Argor and Burbles had little trouble make their path through, often they had to circle back just to keep within reasonable distance of the other two. Burbles had actually spent a chunk of time strolling the forest on her own rather than using one of the three as a two-legged taxi, taking the time to harvest small worms and insects that had emerged after the storm or to playfully snip at lengthy strands of grass.
Silas had thought they were making good time, until the one thing he knew would happen ended up happening.
Mobs. Or, more specifically, creatures of the Forest of Hiisi that Tulk failed to mention. According to both Tulk and Argor, many of these were not the common fauna and beasts who are native but instead were the scavengers looking for easy breakfast after a storm. If gaming had taught Silas anything, it was that this was only to be expected. Still, he could do without their grotesque features and regular attacks.
Cacciatore were the first to make their presence known when the group stopped for a brief rest. They were more commonly known as Hunter Worms. Around two feet in length and as wide as Silas’s arm, they had a flexible carapace dabbed in various shades of brown, and a handful of small, white eyes that looked like pearls had been set into their heads. Their mouth was a circular hole full of thin, barely visible teeth that reminded Silas of syringe needles, and their movement was silent as they made their way down from the tops of trees or dropped from branches overhead.
A large one had dropped down and hit into Silas’s arm, its teeth failing to find purchase. Silas, weaponless, backed away and yelped unheroically while Tulk carved through it with his stout dagger before spinning to take out another one behind him. They seemed easy enough to take out, with Argor crushing them nearly faster than they could actually appear. Each one popped or crunched loudly, spilling out dark insect blood that smelled like an old cheese, or a fancy cheese, and some even shrieked. Silas couldn’t imagine that these would do much damage to them, unless they were poisonous of course, but slowly the party realized they were actually coming for Burbles, who shamelessly prodded at the dead ones with its large claws.
[Congratulations! You have completed the secret quest, Wiggling and Worming. By you, or more likely your party, defeating 10 or more Hunter Worms you have gained knowledge on their habits, and weaknesses. Reward: Item, Title]
[Title acquired: Hunter of Hunters. Note, title passives may stack. This title awards the following passive bonuses: +5% experience gained when slaying insect creatures. +10% chance to critical strike insect creatures. +5% poison resistance]
“Sweet,” Silas muttered, backing away from another slashed worm and dodging the viscera that flew his way.
“Huh?” Tulk grunted and raised a brow. He looked annoyed at the comment more than confused. “Here. Can’t keep cleaning up messes for you, Human.”
Flawlessly, Tulk tossed the spare dagger at his hip to Silas, sheath and all, before spinning to cut down a particularly fat worm. Silas caught it just as the creature popped with a spray like confetti from a pinata. Tulk had not bothered to dodge any of it, now dripping in the oozing off-white blood of the worms. As Silas was examining the dagger, a worm fell behind him, leaving him only seconds to draw the short blade and turn to plunge it into the creature.
His days of dodging their guts was over, as a jet of the ichor splashed is pants. He sighed, owning practically no clothing as it was, and went back to walking forward while dodging and stabbing the Hunter Worms.
Burbles had scurried to safety, which was Argor’s head.
The Hunter Worms only gave him a pitiful 60 experience points, which meant they would typically only be about 20 for others given his passive triple experience multiplier. He wanted to take a minute to look up Argor’s stats, knowing that the former Forest Guardian had to be a higher level than H’Alik, but a minute not slashing worms was rare now, and it was even worse when the Burrowers made their move.
Unlike the Hunter Worms, the Burrower Leeches seemed to care less about Burbles, or Argor for that matter, and pushed through soft patches of mud or ruffled dirt to target Tulk and Silas. Like the Worms, they were larger than any insect Silas had seen on earth at nearly three feet in length with plump, slick black bodies that seemed oily to the touch. They were eyeless and hidden under the fleshy mass of their bodies were rows of deep-set, jagged teeth like that of a great white shark. To make it worse, they were fast. They propelled themselves from the dirt after breaking the surface and launched with their fangs pointed directly towards the intended meals.
Tulk was a whirlwind. He cut a Leech from the air with a backhanded blade slash, jumped forward to impale a Worm, and they spun to catch a second descending Worm on the tip of his blade. Tulk pressed forward on their path, the insect creatures falling to his sword strikes every few minutes, while Silas was panting just to dodge them and keep up.
[Congratulations! You have completed a personal quest, Small Blades: One. It is not the size of the weapon; it is how you use it. In your case, you barely know how to use it so size may be better. Oh well, you’ll learn! Note, this is a personal quest and does not reward experience. Reward: Dexterity +1, Small Blade Affinity +10]
[Congratulations! You have completed a personal quest, Small Blades: Two. There you go, stick and poke, over and over. Keep it up! Note, this is a personal quest and does not reward experience. Reward: Dexterity +2, Small Blade Affinity +10]
They pushed on, fighting their way towards the tree line that hung in the distance. They could see it now, every step bringing them closer to the edge of this endless, shady forest. The Worms and Leeches still came at them in small waves, as if by some unified strike, but the attacks were less frequent the closer they came to the edge of the shadowed trees. The light that hovered just outside was intoxicating, drawing them forward more and more. Silas had almost come up with a conspiracy that the forest itself was trying to slow their progress and keep them here between the insect creature attacks and how dense the roots underfoot had become but brushed that aside when they finally had a few minutes of progress completely undaunted by attacks.
The random attacks had been beneficial to an extent, but Silas was feeling like it was break time. Most had offered some experience, ranging from as low as 66 to upwards of 150, and he guessed that it was due to their individual strength or possibly even their age. He noticed that he got fractions of experience from what Argor killed, but nothing at all from Tulk, and this clarified that Underlings must share some experience gains with him. It was a system he needed to find out more about, because if there was no range on it, he could endlessly power-level with the more Underlings he had, and that was an intriguing premise. For now, he was much too tired to think about it and promised himself he would dive back in the moment they were truly safe.
They took a moment to catch their breath, and all agreed it would be the last one. The edge of the wooded area was perhaps the length of a football field and compared to the miles they had already walked this would be easy enough, especially since the trees had become less dense. There were many more open areas of flatland ahead of them, so much so that breaks in the canopy above had allowed for enough sunlight to actually grow large swatches of grass and weeds.
“Tulk,” Silas beckoned, taking a few deep breaths and stretching out. He sheathed the dagger at his side, paused and closed his eyes bring up something from his golden interface system, and then nodded as he reopened them. “My cooldown is up; would you like some powers still? Think we could use some more force here.”
“Boy,” Tulk said, sheathing his sword on his back and knocking a crooked grin. “Thought you would never ask. Tulk is ready.”
OceanofPDF.com
Fifteen
Spoke Too Soon
[You are granting a Minor Bestowment of a Deity on the willing host named Tulk. Please note, this will fundamentally alter the host’s being and may trigger unseen world events around them. There are no predictions for how a host bestowed with a fraction of a God’s power may change, and whether that is for the good of Destiny itself or the destruction of all existence, is in your hands. Continue?]
It pained Silas to see that no matter how hard he tried his Goblin ally could not receive a Gift in the way that Argor did. He had really hoped to see Tulk elevated beyond just what he had done for H’Alik, the trainer had earned that much, but he could not muster even a flicker of the red aura that would allow Tulk to claim the gift. For now, Silas sighed and was at least grateful he could still offer the trainer something.
Tulk’s skin was still wet with the insides of the Worms and Leeches, and up close he smelled worse than anything Silas had ever encountered. It was one of the few moments he had wished his senses had not fully come back. He gazed down on Tulk, the old trainer’s eyes were closed, his face slack and his pulse even. Tulk took small breaths, his shoulders rising and falling evenly, and with just how peaceful and calm he appeared to be Silas could tell the Goblin was fearful and doing his best to keep it hidden. He knew from bits and pieces of Tulk’s conversations that he had once fought against the emperor’s forces alongside humans, and if the emperor truly had powers like that of Silas, then this perhaps seemed like treason to the Goblin.
“Tulk?” Silas said, hands upon him and speaking gently. “Are you ready?”
“Ready. Just get it over with,” Tulk spat, mustering an obvious false confidence. “Not going to let a human boy and a damn tree leave me in the dust.”
Silas sighed, cleared his mind, and let the words flow from his lips.
“Tulk, Goblin trainer of the Charred Bone clan. I, Silas on the path of the Deity, bestow you a fraction of my power. May my light offer guidance, may my fire offer vengeance, and may my very soul offer growth.”
The same sensations came as before, radiating a warm flow from his core, through his arms and into the Goblin. Silas did not worry as much this time and simply let the energy follow a predetermined pathway like a simple stream through a valley. He instead questioned why Tulk was not someone who could receive one of the Seven Gifts like Argor had. H’Alik had received power to be sure, and boat loads of it, but Argor had been fundamentally changed. The Guardian had become something greater than itself, had been given the title of Lord of the Elementals, and apparently had abilities that far exceedingly simply throwing a fireball.
Argor had created weapons from nothing, had made a magical fire, had even grown them mushrooms and apples that morning before their journey forward. And, according to Argor, it had more abilities than they could count with their fingers and toes combined. That kind of power, Silas had thought, was something that Tulk deserved. He had defended Silas, fought alongside of him, trained him even. The only reason their group escaped was due to the trainer’s quick thinking and quicker actions.
But Silas couldn’t really question powers that he didn’t fully understand to begin with and had to hope that whatever class was given to Tulk was one that he truly deserved and could utilize.
Just as before, the Goblin went rigid. He seemed to fight it much better than H’Alik, but pain was relevant on his face and his muscles tightened with enormous strain. Yet, unlike the Shaman Arsonist, Tulk took a different approach. He fell to his rear, legs in a butterfly pose and hands clasped in his lap. Sweat beaded and fell, his lips quivered, and his eyelids were squeezed shut. Still, somehow the old Goblin had managed to fall into a meditative pose and trance to manage what had to be immense agony, given what Silas had seen from H’Alik.
Silas moved back, giving the trainer space while also keeping a watching eye for more insects. Argor had seemingly done the same, and Silas took the opportunity to set his unspent points and gaze at his new stats with the knowledge that Argor would defend them. After a thought, he distributed his points and this time put more into the Intelligence and Wisdom categories hoping to make himself more well-rounded, while adding the remaining couple points to his Dexterity.
Name: Silas
Class: Deity
Worship: Seeker - 1
Level: 13
Notoriety: Rumored - 100
Strength: 36
Dexterity: 35
Vitality: 37
Intelligence: 38
Wisdom: 37
Luck: 3
Max Health: 844 (400 base + 12 points per Vitality stat point)
Max Mana: 844 (400 base +12 points per Wisdom stat point)
He had some second guesses about putting Intelligence as his highest stat, but he thought on it a long moment longer and locked it in. The fact was that he would continue to gain abilities, and eventually they would matter much more than raw strength. Besides, it was barely over and now his stats had read more even with one another which was the end goal.
