The Wandering Inn_Volume 1, page 179
It was a pretty sight, but the skeleton had no time for any of it. He scanned the landscape, searching for hints of movement. And then he saw a small shape moving far below.
That was enough. Toren raced down the hill, drawing his sword as he ran. He didn’t bother with stealth of plans; there was something alive, and so he was going to kill it. He wanted to kill it.
A skeleton running down a snowy hill is hard to spot, even with all the snow flying about. But the creature had spotted Toren already, and instead of running, it had stopped and waited for him to approach. That was a good sign; it meant it could probably fight.
Toren halted as he finally laid eyes on the creature that had been ambling through the snow. It was…a deer.
Yes, a deer. This was, in fact, a reindeer, and although it had an impressive set or horns, it was still just a deer and not a flesh-eating Creler or a giant bug with teeth or even a Goblin.
Disappointed, Toren lowered his sword and turned away. Killing things, that was fine, but he was aware that random acts of violence wouldn’t help him level. He turned his back, and thus took the reindeer’s charge straight to the back.
The impact knocked Toren off his feet and the hooves trampled and crushed his bones. If he had been flesh and blood, Toren probably would have had pierced internal organs and countless torn ligaments. But since he was a skeleton, the reindeer’s charge was mostly harmless to him.
Toren sprang to his feet as the reindeer aborted its charge before it could hit a tree, and turned, snorting, to face him. He lifted his sword, and clattered his jaw in delight.
It was an enemy after all! He nearly rejoiced, and only then realized that he might actually be in a bit of trouble.
Because here was the thing. Yes, Toren was facing a reindeer. And yes, it had just charged him to little effect. But only now did the skeleton realize that this particular reindeer, whether by mutation or evolution, was twice the size of a reindeer from Erin’s world.
He didn’t have any other reindeer for comparison of course; Toren was just aware that this deer was huge. It was a Corusdeer, although Toren had no way of knowing that. The two antlers on the reindeer’s head were colored as much orange as brown, and there were sooty marks on the fur around the Corusdeer’s hooves.
Still, it didn’t have a sword. Toren raised his and charged at the deer, slashing viciously at its sides. The deer reared up and Toren saw flashing hooves.
It kicked him in the skull and landed several good blows on his body which cracked bone. He slashed its side open.
Red blood covered the reindeer’s side as it made a distressed sound and retreated. Toren advanced, charging through the snow with his sword raised, but the Corusdeer was agile and darted away from him, easily outdistancing the skeleton.
Well now, this was inconvenient! If Toren had flesh, he would have frowned. He’d come out this far to fight monsters, not overly-territorial animals. He expected the deer to run and decided he would let it go; it wasn’t much of a challenge—when the deer suddenly stopped and lowered its head for another charge.
Toren paused, and then raised his sword. The deer wanted to die, apparently. He had no problem with that. He waited patiently as the deer pawed the ground, snorting. It might be stronger and faster than he was, but it was just a dumb animal. No threat at all.
Then Toren learned what made the Corusdeer different from normal reindeer. The deer’s horns began to glow, and then they lit up like pieces of iron in a forge fire, turning nearly white with the heat they emitted.
The hooves caught fire too. Suddenly, Toren was aware that everything was melting around him. That didn’t bother him, as he was a skeleton, but he had to wonder what would happen if his bones met the super-heated horn.
He hesitated for a second, and the Corusdeer suddenly charged. It kicked off the ground with an explosion of fire, and it was suddenly moving faster. A lot faster.
Toren threw himself out of the way as the deer thundered past him. He felt the air change around his bones, but then he was clear. For a second. He turned, and somehow the reindeer had turned and was already charging.
Too late to block or evade. Toren cut at the deer again as the horns caught him full-on in the chest. The deer veered to one side, bleeding from the face as Toren crashed back into the snow. But the horns still hit Toren’s ribs.
The skeleton heard a hiss, and felt part of his rib cage…disappear. He fought to get to his feet, and felt at his ribs. They were still intact. But—
A good chunk of his bones had been vaporized. As Toren felt as his third rib down, he encountered only air where bone should have been. Bits of ash flaked away at his touch. The deer had burnt away his bones with the intense heat coming from its horns.
That wasn’t bad. Toren’s mobility was still unhindered, and he hadn’t lost much. And he’d hurt the Corusdeer; it was now bleeding from two places. But something else concerned Toren.
He was not healing. Or if he was, it wasn’t as rapidly as broken shattered bone. That was very bad.
The Corusdeer was shaking its head, sending steaming droplets of blood flying into the snow. It was wounded right above the eye, and Toren was sure it couldn’t see out of it. Still, it raked the air with its glowing horns, forcing Toren to retreat.
He hopped backwards in the snow, and the two regarded each other warily for a few seconds. The skeleton considered his next move. He had to kill the deer now, that was plain. But he was more wary of the horns. Charging they might not be so bad, but if the deer pinned him and drove it’s horns into his body? He’d be ash in less than a minute.
The deer was certainly having second thoughts as well. She’s been trying to chase off the strange intruder who’d entered her grazing spot, and already it had injured her twice. Either skeleton or Corusdeer might have decided the risks here weren’t worth the reward, but that was when the snowman attacked.
Toren had only a second’s warning as the massive shadow engulfed him before a snowy fist smashed into him, engulfing the skeleton in a world of snow. He struggled, but snow was everywhere, and it was too thickly packed for him to move.
For a few minutes all was confusion for Toren. He was fighting to move, and could sense he was being swung around at great speeds. But then he heard a hiss and a roar, and the ice around him melted into water!
Toren fell out of the snowman’s body just in time to see the Corusdeer springing away as part of the massive Snow Golem turned to water and mixed with the snow on the ground. He scrambled away and saw his sword, still embedded in the snowy giant’s side. Toren stared at the huge creation in amazement.
It was a snowman. A crude sculpture of snow come to life. Technically he was a Drake, but his appearance had mutated too much to resemble his creator or any humanoid species for that matter.
A while ago—perhaps near the start of Winter, a Drake child had made a snowman in the fresh snow. The energetic young Drake had given the snowman eyes made of pebbles, long sticks for arms and a tail, a mouth, and even a radish for a nose, but had forgotten the most important thing: clothes.
Unprotected from the external sources, magic had entered the snowman—whether by accident or on purpose—and he had come to life. It might not have been that bad at first; for all the snowman was hostile to everything living, it wasn’t fast and it was made of loosely packed snow after all, hardly a threat. But this one had managed to survive its creation, and it had done what all creatures do.
It grew. The snow on the plains was a banquet for the Snow Golem, and it had absorbed more and more snow until it was taller than a Rock Crab and just as wide across. It had two massive arms made of snow, and large rocks and stones had formed two crude eyes and a mouth on its face.
Oh, and it still had a tail of sorts, but it was more like a third leg.
The Snow Golem roared again, and swung at the deer. The horns met the fist and Toren saw a flash and then a cloud of steam billow up as the Golem reared back, cradling his melted hand.
Something exploded, and Toren realized some of the stones caught in the Golem’s body were overheating when the antlers caught them. That wasn’t a problem for him or the Golem, but the deer caught some of the shrapnel from the rocks and staggered.
That was the Golem’s chance to throw a huge clump of himself at the deer, but it vaporized and began water as the deer lowered its head protectively. The force still threw the Corusdeer on the ground, but it staggered upright and the two creatures began to circle each other.
They’d completely forgotten about Toren. These two natural enemies were so engrossed in each other, that only when the skeleton had climbed all the way up the Golem’s head did the Corusdeer notice he was there.
It paused, and the Snow Golem finally realized something was wrong. It raised it’s only good hand, but Toren just clung to the massive snowy heady, and the clumsy fingers couldn’t pull him out.
That was the Corusdeer’s cue to dart forwards, and the Snow Golem had to focus on the ground. Toren stood back up, and looked at the Golem’s head. Now, how would you kill something made of snow and ice…?
Toren knew how he’d kill himself, so he applied the same logic to the Golem. He didn’t bother with his sword; he just buried his hands in the Snow Golem’s head and began to dig.
For a few seconds, the Golem continued swiping at the deer as it ran around him below, melting his sides and darting in and out of reach. Then Toren tossed another armful of snow into the air and struck the Golem’s center. Then the Golem knew pain.
The Snow Golem roared in fury and agony as Toren dug down into its head, scooping out snow that looked different from the rest. It was somehow even whiter than normal snow, and it felt colder on his bones. The pure snow melted as soon as it reached the air, and the Golem screamed as Toren kept digging into it.
Slowly, the giant behemoth collapsed, and Toren realized it was coming apart. No longer bound by magic, the Golem’s body simply slumped to the ground, a small mountain of snow and dirt and ice.
Toren sat up in the snow, and pulled his sword out with him. Now that had been fun. He looked around quickly, and saw the Corusdeer was staring at the remains of the Golem, as if unsure it was dead. It backed up as Toren leapt onto the ground, sword raised.
Now, back to the fight. Toren waited for the deer to charge. It was clearly waiting for its moment, pawing the ground, feinting forwards, but then the deer hesitated. It raised its horns, and shook them, but too late.
The horns went out. The white-hot light and intense heat faded, and suddenly the Corusdeer was just an oversized reindeer, bleeding and tired.
Toren blinked, but the deer was just as surprised. It pawed at the ground, shaking its head, but it was clear that whatever magic or energy the Corusdeer used, it had run out from fighting both Toren and the Snow Golem.
Too bad. But Toren didn’t mind. As the deer began to back up, he charged it, sword swinging. This time the deer met him head on, raking the skeleton with it’s antlers, but they did nothing. And Toren stabbed the deer in the side.
This time his blade went in several feet. It didn’t hit the heart, but it did strike something vital because the Corusdeer moaned and pulled itself away. It didn’t strike at Toren, but began to run as the skeleton chased after it.
Even wounded, even half-blind, the reindeer instantly outdistanced Toren. But it left a trail of red in the snow, and a wake besides. That was enough for Toren. He ran after the deer even as it pulled away, not discouraged by how fast it was moving. It would slow in the end.
That was the thing about Toren; he was patient and he didn’t get tired. He pursued the wounded Corusdeer relentlessly through the snow, cutting at its sides each time he drew near. It couldn’t run forever, and each time it slowed there he would be, stabbing at it, cutting it, ignoring the hooves and horns that smashed into him time and time again.
Blood ran into the Corusdeer’s eyes as it surged towards a forest, trying to lose the skeleton. He ran after it, but then the Corusdeer made a mistake. Half-blind, it never noticed the low-hanging tree branches and ran straight into them.
Toren clattered his jaw with delight as the deer careered left and into a tree. The skeleton was on the wounded animal in a second. The Corusdeer raised its horns and knocked the sword out of the skeleton’s hand. It tried to use that moment to run, but Toren was on it in an instant. He put two fingers together and pushed them into the deer’s other eye. The deer screamed, and Toren felt delighted.
This was fighting. This was killing. This was what he had been made to do. The world became a small, concentrated bubble of violence for the skeleton. He punched and bit and battered the deer as it tried to kick him with its hooves or stab him with its horns. But there was no heat. No heat, and the deer was weakening. Dying.
Toren found his sword and brought it back as the deer lay on the ground, hooves moving weakly. He stabbed the deer in the chest, and then the head, repeatedly, painting the snow and his bones with gore.
It was done. He had won. Toren regarded the steaming corpse, and then took a bit of snow and began to clean himself. Erin hated it when he was dirty.
[Skeleton Warrior Level 16!]
[Skill – Even Footing Obtained!]
Toren couldn’t sleep, and he never rested, so the level up notifications always appeared in his head the instant a battle was done or a game of chess was finished. He considered the words as he finished rubbing himself with snow.
[Even Footing]? It didn’t sound that useful, but…Toren lifted a foot experimentally. He began to walk through the snow, and realized the ground was suddenly far, far easier for him to traverse. How? It was as if instead of landing on slick patches of ice or divots in the ground, he was walking on a smooth, hard surface rather than treacherous terrain.
That was useful. Not just for killing things; Toren was sure he’d be able to go wherever he liked with this skill. It was definitely handy, but it was—odd.
Odd, yes. That was the only word for it. Just a while ago Toren had been worried about not moving fast enough. And lo and behold, he’d suddenly gotten a skill that allowed him to do just that. Was thinking and leveling connected in some way?
Perhaps. Toren didn’t know, but he could see the connection. And yet, useful as this new skill was, it wasn’t quite what he needed. It would still take Toren over an hour and a half to get back to the inn, even if he didn’t slip every few minutes.
Speaking of which…Toren glanced at the sky and noted the position of the sun. Yes, he had to return anyways, or it would be dark by the time he got back. No more killing for today. It was inconvenient, but he had orders.
The skeleton began to run back towards Liscor and the inn through the snow, as if he’d never been fighting. The mound that had been the Snow Golem and the slowly freezing corpse of the Corusdeer lay on the ground, to be slowly covered as more snow fell from the sky. Toren ran on, thinking only of Erin, the inn, and the levels he had gained. He’d killed two new enemies today; probably the reason why he’d leveled twice. The Snow Golem was a true threat. If he hadn’t been melted out of it, he might have been trapped there forever.
He wondered what he might kill tomorrow?
That was Toren’s first day of hunting. It was not his last, but when he returned to the inn, he found something new.
A girl.
She was sitting in the middle of Erin’s inn, on a chair, shivering in a blanket as Erin fussed over her. The girl had a cup of warm and expensive milk, and a plate of hot beef and bread besides.
And she was complaining.
“—filthy peasants and monsters! They should all be wiped out!”
Toren stared. She was probably a guest. Probably. But he had an uneasy feeling, made worse when Erin looked around and saw him.
“Oh, Toren! There you are! I was wondering where you were. Look, this is my new employee. Her name is—”
Toren didn’t hear the rest. He looked at the shivering girl, dressed in filthy clothes and staring at him with open-mouthed horror. He looked at Erin.
No.
No, she couldn’t be doing this. She was replacing him? Or—no, not replacing him. Toren listened as Erin explained.
She was going to work here? Doing his jobs? Why? Wasn’t he the only help Erin needed? He’d…
Was it because he’d left? Surely not. Erin was saying something about the girl being rescued or exiled? Toren didn’t quite understand. He didn’t understand a lot of things that happened or that people said. But he looked at the girl and didn’t like her.
Not one bit.
More things happened. Erin began fussing of the girl for one thing, although it appeared the girl was quite capable of fussing over herself. She made the other people in the inn angry, Toren saw that. The half-Elf, his creator, and especially the Gnoll that came to visit.
Was it important? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Toren only knew two things. He had leveled today, which was good, and Erin was putting him in charge of the girl, which was bad.
That first night, Toren stayed up late, thinking, trying to figure out if he was being replaced or if this was just punishment for something. He felt his ribs slowly beginning to restore themselves; the bones was reforming out of the air, but slowly, draining the mana within him by quite a bit. But it wasn’t important like the new girl was.
Toren ignored everything as he thought. He stood in the center of the common room until he noticed the girl sneaking downstairs. She didn’t notice him as she snuck into the kitchen, but she did when he caught her hand as it was reaching for Erin’s pouch of coins.
More screaming. More noise. Toren followed orders, and the next day he was left alone with the girl to supervise her. He stared at her in shock, but it was mirrored on her face with not a little revulsion and horror.
He had to teach? Her? Erin wanted the girl to learn how to clean, but all the girl did was back away from Toren, screaming insults and calling him names. He offered her the dustrag several times but she just ran away from him.
At last, she stopped being afraid of him enough to stand still and try to order him around. The girl planted her feet, opened her mouth petulantly and pointed towards the door.
