Chapter 21 – Reporting for Duty (Patreon)

My fellow basement dwellers were kind enough to let me sleep in, and I awoke well rested, content and without that annoying 'hungry' debuff. Sending a kind thought to Darya, I grabbed a piece of jerky to start the day off in style. Munching, I pocketed another handful, and before any greedy second thoughts surfaced, I located Darek who was staring in consternation at the map inside the classroom. 

His attitude when I handed him the food was equal parts happiness and surprise. Rummaging around the sack, he proclaimed, "This should keep us for a week or so. Thank you - it definitely removes the worst of our troubles."

"A little less than a week, probably. The food in there is also for me, but I have the feeling you guys are better at divvying it up and making food last - at least that's what I've concluded from that horrible, stinky soup you devoured yesterday." I held up a hand, forestalling any comments. "My friend is going to be helping us with provisions for as long as we're both in Nerit though, and I'll see her in two days' time again - so if you want to throw a small feast, you won't be running out of food just now."

He stared at me for a while over the opened bag, then slapped his leg hard. "Hah. I really did not believe that you would pull through. I am glad to admit that I was wrong about you. With your friend helping for the time leading up to the tournament, this should tide us over for the winter." He turned his back to me, staring at the map yet again. 

I glanced at the pop-up I'd just received:

[Congratulations. You have completed the quest: “Hostess gifts”

You have been very generous in your gifts and as a result have been fully accepted by Darek and his group.

Reward: 

You have received 300 experience points. Experience towards next level: 320/4000

Additional reward for delivering beyond the necessary: New training venues and possibilities have been made available. ]

Well, that was vague. Promising, but vague.

A booming laughter escaped Darek, and he turned his back on the map. "Depending on how well your friend pulls her weight, I might only have to join a mole rat hunt or two, and those can barely be called dangerous." His smile stayed on, but gradually dissipated while he slowly walked back towards me. As he stood before me, I felt like a bug under the magnifying glance of his scrutiny. 

"Arack was adamant I help you train to acclimatize you to the perils of Nerit. She appears to have taken a shine to you, what with your fancy words and dreamy tunes." He shook his head disdainfully. "I told her that I would not waste an ounce of energy on somebody who was not invested in Nerit, and the Honor Games would sort you out soon enough. Providing for my family, though - that is investment enough for me. Now, I shall help you try to make it to the games instead."

"That's incredible Darek. I cannot tell you how much that means." That wasn't even exaggeration. My combat skills were horrible, and a seasoned hand ready to train me could provide a serious leg up.

"I would put a restrainer on the positivity if I were you. Multiple persons have called me a good trainer - yet I have never been called a kind one. Let us move to the training room."

Moments later, I was forced to agree with his verdict, as I stumbled around the training room, trying to follow his bidding. I had a hard time deciphering what the hell we were training, as there was neither rhyme, nor reason to his instructions. One moment, he'd have me sprinting around the room at full speed. Next, he'd have me doing pushups until my arms caved in. (after all of 6 repetitions) Then there were jumps of varying length and height, dodging items real and imaginary. Even frigging handstands. The list went on and on as the only sounds to be heard inside the room were Darek's commands and my panting breath. At last, he told me to get up and I did so, grudgingly and massaging a tender spot. The final exercise had been a complicated series with me placed prone on my back, rolling to either side to avoid the rocks he tossed into the air, and a number of them had struck home.

"So, what were these exercises good for? I really couldn't see any sort of system."

He frowned. "Exercises? I was testing your physical abilities to see what I have to work with. Your upper and lower body strength is negligible. Your agility and suppleness are laughable, though you do have minor skills at dodging. Your endurance is subpar, but decent compared to the rest. Your perception speed is decent, verging on good - but as long as your overall speed is low, you will not be able to capitalize on it much."

Wow. Yeah, please don't sugar coat it on my account. I managed to keep my trap shut. I'd watched enough montage scenes to know that they were supposed to tear you a new one in the beginning. Then later on, when you improved your skills, they'd slowly ease up on you.

"Now, for the second round. There is a covered crate in the corner. Grab either of the weapons and attack me." 

I uncovered the crate, looking down upon a large selection of wooden weapons in different sizes and degrees of practicality. I grabbed the first thing that seemed recognizable - a one-handed two-fonged spear - and looked back to Darek. He stood carved in granite, spear in hand, waiting. "This" I thought "is going to suck."

And suck it did - but admittedly, not as much as expected. He allowed me to attack freely and only moved minimally to either deflect or completely avoid my attacks. He didn't strike back and failed to punish me physically when I left myself wide open. A minute was all it took before he instructed me to choose a new weapon. And another. And another one after that. Then he started telling me which weapons to equip. First a halberd. Then twin daggers, a single dagger, and a hand axe, ending the session with a few tries twirling a light mace. 

I'm no stranger to training scenes in games and literature. It always works the same way - plenty of disappointment, followed by the moment when our hero finally tries out the ancient twin-headed glaive and everything just clicks. Well, there was no clicking to be had tonight, except for Darek clicking his tongue in frustration and putting an end to the activity. 

"Do you have any experience with ranged weapons?"

I considered mentioning the short bow I'd used back with my rogue, but still - with my agility score, it'd be next to useless. I shook my head with a grimace.

"In that case, you are probably the least physically adept person I have witnessed attempt to win the Honor Games as a warrior. In the time we have, I will be able to train two or three of your skills to a low, but passable level for someone who is just starting out. I will not, however, be able to help you pass the initial rounds."

That was harsh. Seriously, I was starting to see how 'kind' wasn't really one of the words people used for him. Probably correct, but still. Darek really needed to train his diplomacy.

"This is, of course, from a martial point of view. Now, you need to show me the skills that had you named Anathema. Afterwards, we will decide which skills we can improve upon or incorporate into your style."

Oh. Frigging doh. He wasn't bailing on me or just trying to turn me into a warrior wannabe - he just wanted to see everything I had. My optimism returned with a vengeance, and I flashed Darek a huge smile. "All right - prepare to be blown away." I smirked and cast Sonic Push. The small wooden crate I targeted tumbled end over end, and Darek was forced to use his spear to deflect it. Heh - Chertog really was proving to be a horrible influence on my humor. Darek shot me a withering glance - ok, so maybe I'd try not to target him next time. 

The next quarter hour was less combat practice and more show and tell, though he insisted on seeing most of my spells in practice. The old lizard made me demonstrate my multicast capabilities too - and when he saw one of my spells fail, he made me spell out the limits to the spell. I spent a while talking about the possibilities of Tinkers too, especially concerning the bombs - in a tournament, they could prove to be a huge windfall if I was outclassed.

Casting Stun Blast for the third consecutive time, I turned towards the vigilant kobold, relieved to see him nod.

"That should do it - the angle made it look wider the first time." He sat down on a crate. "Take a seat, boy."

I joined him, waiting for him to continue.

Just as the silence was turning awkward, he started without preamble, "Weapon skills would be a waste of our time - unarmed battle as well. You have neither the time, nor the physical aptitude for it. Armor will be useless as well - it would slow you down and tire you out too fast. No, you will have to rely on mobility as well as the versatily of your spells. Hmm - and the surprise factor of being pitted against a caster will also work in your factor. Hence we will work on your spells in addition to your Unarmored Dodge and Acrobatics skills. I hope practicing demanding physical moves will alleviate your agility issues." He tapped his wooden leg, contemplating. "We will also force you into a lot of different scenarios, working on your ability to adapt your strategy on the fly while keeping your concentration." He looked expectantly at me.

That...sounded pretty spot on, actually. In battles, I often failed to anticipate the right way to act - and I'd damn sure needed a higher Unarmored Dodge and Acrobatics skill to save my bacon on numerous occasions. There was just one thing: "And my throwing skills? In order to use my bombs, I'd have to become better at throwing." 

He shook his head. "Against your fellow slow humanoids, you might have a point. However, any kobold you will come up against will be faster and more agile than you. Spending your time to lob a grenade and miss instead of relying on the spells you know." He shook his head. "Stick with what you know. If you want, practice your throwing skills in your down time. I advise you not use them against kobolds though."

I conceded the point. Still, if I could find the time in the weeks to come, Arack would probably be game for some additional throwing lessons. "So where do we start?"

"By allowing me to formulate a training schedule instead of rushing to make it up right now. You have something more important to do as well, if you want to make it to the games."

"I...do? Oh, pits. Of course I do. Thank you for reminding me." That was some brilliant thinking - planning how to fight in the Honor Games when I didn't even have a patron yet. Hell, I didn't even know whether there was more to the process than merely convincing somebody I was fit for redemption. I thanked Darek once again for accepting to train me and left. 

The abode was empty, and I left the place, deep in thought. Slowly, I was gaining traction in the city - or at least among the Fallen. Still, I couldn't help but think that there was a major puzzle to the place that I was completely missing. This crisis between the church of Thracken and the Chief that seemed to pervade the entire culture and cause splits, for instance. Thus far, I'd been unable to figure out whether it was only a case of not talking about the elephant in the room in front of the newcomer or something more sinister. And that wasn't all. If they really disliked other races that much, why the hell weren't they doing anything about it? And what about that old abandoned war camp we'd found? It felt like I needed one single, but vital piece of the puzzle to make everything make sense. For now though, I'd better just trudge on.

The warrior encampment was close to the center of Nerit. With that in mind, I'd imagined an exotic spectacle, complete with kobold statuary, arena and scenes depicting famous kobold warrior heroes. Reality was less impressive - apparently the warrior caste valued function over form. The enclosure was surrounded by a low stone wall and was suitably large to keep a military company inside, if not in comfort. Two thirds of the enclosure was divided into rough areas, mostly divided by wooden partitions, rope or in one case by the simple fact of placing a bunch of large barrels in a rough circle. Most seemed to be for training purposes, though a huge hole in the ground and some sculpture in the back had me puzzled. The last third of the plot was taken up by a rough barracks. The resemblance to the war camp was easy to spot - the building was functional and that was the nicest thing I'd be able to say about it. Hell, the ugly squat building still sported a good number of huge cracks that likely originated back from when Nerit crash landed.

My approach did not go unnoticed. Two kobolds were seated next to the entrance, performing the age old act of trying to look vigilant while they were in fact lounging. The smallest one saw me, and promptly punched the other one. They started talking as I got closer, and didn't stop as I greeted them. In fact, the large one added just enough of a sneer so I knew that they were making a point of ignoring me. Of course, had I been daft enough to not get that, the rare word that I understood would do the trick. "Stupid," "half-elf slave," and "weak" were just some of the words I recognized. I was just about to burst their bubble with a well-deserved clapback before I managed to stop myself. Having them believe that I didn't speak a word of the kobold language was the perfect way of spying on them. Composing my expression carefully, I asked them in exaggerated Common: "Can you help me locate Instructor Tarkos? I've been told he could become my patron for the Honor Games." 

At least I managed to get their attention. The bellowed laughter was less welcome. When they'd finished wiping their eyes, they started talking amongst themselves again, but at least the smaller one had the decency to point at the building behind him and say: "Inside. Third door on right." in heavily accented Common." I thanked them both and walked inside. Even on the short walk to the building, I got several stares and comments - neither of them sounding the least bit friendly. The hallway inside was just as ugly as the outside - practical, spartan, and rough. Not a single embellishment to be seen, just rough-hewn brick.  I knew right away when I got to the right place. The harsh tones of somebody giving a lecture in the Kobold could be heard from where I was standing. Oh, and they didn't bother with doors either, so I had the chance to take a peek.

Inside was yet another classroom.  This one slightly less messy than the one in our basement, but even my short glance led me to prefer the cluttered space with my fellow losers. The room contained the first two pieces of furniture I'd seen in the building - a chair for the teacher and an ancient blackboard. The students were left to sit on the floor as they pleased and listen to the words of wisdom from the teacher. Now, people have told me that I am, in fact, not a perfect person. Sure - I have a few flaws - who doesn't, right? Yet still, I also like to tell myself that I have a good number of redeeming qualities. For instance,  I have always considered myself a tolerant fellow - willing to give people a chance and refrain from judging anybody based off appearance or demeanor. Be that as it may, I couldn't keep myself from harboring an instant dislike against the kobold perching on the stair.  He was a tall kobold, probably only half a head lower than me, wearing a full leather armor like he'd been born in it. He was clearly in excellent shape and heavily scarred. While this might actually not put him too far off from your average warrior here, his demeanor made all the difference. His gestures were economical and he sat up straight, spine like an iron bar - yet he did not merely teach - he lectured - no, reigned. The harsh kobold words that flew from his mouth were clearly to be interpreted as gospel truth, and the disdain in his eyes was clear to see. The contents of his words were less clear - his clipped, rapid speech was hard for me to understand. 

No matter. I did not need friends, merely a patron. Entering the room, I managed only a few steps before I could feel the load of an entire set of eyes focusing on me. As the teacher's eyes descended upon me, I bowed deeply - but not quickly enough to miss the sneer that appeared on his lips. "Instructor Tarkos? I would like to apply to you for entering the upcoming Honor Games."

Silence fell over the room. One unfortunate student let out an involuntary snigger, only to feel the withering stare of Tarkos move towards him. The teacher's frosty words barked out, in common this time: "Thank you, Manel, for volunteering your help. Run and fetch a spear and shield." The unfortunate student stood, discomfort evident on his face. Tarkos turned back towards me. "I do not mind your presence. It allows me to share a lesson that some of these young hotheads have yet to master." He beckoned the unlucky student forward and faced the class. "Ask anybody in Nerit what the mark of a warrior is, and you will receive many answers. Physique, some will say. Excellent weapon skills, others may argue. They are, however, far from the truth. You," He singled out a student. "How did Petiel die?" 

"Erm - a pack of wolves caught him napping?"

"Yes. And you. How come we lost four hunter trainees to harpies last autumn?"

"I've heard....the old hunter trainer was incapacitated by a leg wound, right? So they took down the rest who didn't know what to do."

"Exactly." He turned back towards me, looking me straight in the eye. "The key to becoming a warrior is control. Control over your body and your mind, to keep focus and avoid distractions. Good, Manel. Give me the spear and hold out your hand."

The young, brawny kobold held out his hand. He was clearly uncomfortable, but appeared resigned to accept whatever was going to happen. When Tarkos slashed the spear forward with a lightning-quick jab, he barely flinched, and only his deep intake of breath betrayed what had happened. Right away, blood started dripping from a deep slash in his left hand.

The instructor faced Manel . "Defend yourself." He gave the student a second to ready his shield - a round wooden shield with a leather handhold - and then started attacking. He was not holding back either - his jabs were rapid and precise, and the white-faced student was hard pressed to defend himself. "Anybody with sufficient physique and skills can learn how to use a weapon." He kicked the center of the shield, causing Manel to slam back into the wall of the classroom. The other students kept a safe distance, but Manel was clearly in pain, breathing raggedly with his tongue lolling out his mouth.

Tarkos followed, talking over the noise while he unleashed a furious barrage of attacks on the poor student. "In order to become a real warrior, however, you need to be able to keep your concentration and focus, despite being in pain, despite distractions or being tired." Manel was backing away constantly now, grinding his teeth. Several small cuts appeared on his legs and arms. Tarkos looked poised to go for the killing blow - and then nodded, lowering the spear. "If you manage that, you may have what it takes to become a warrior." He pointed the spear towards me, and spread his lips in a sneering grin that showed him missing all teeth on the left side. "So - do you believe that you are warrior material?"

[You have been offered a quest: "Chicken?"

In order for Instructor Tarkos to consider your request, he requires you to prove your mettle. Impress him with your control.

Quest reward:

300 reputation with Nerit

300 experience]

I looked at the spear and down to my hand. If this were real life, my answer would be a hard pass - you don't mess with a musician's hands. Right now, however, I didn't have to fear any permanent damage. Maintaining eye contact, I reached out to grab the spearhead as a response. I know Exogenics puts the pain settings at a mere 10 per cent, but when he pulled back the spear, it really hurt. A swift glance at my hand told me that the mean-spirited little bastard had twisted the spear when he pulled, resulting in a crooked mess of a cut. A debuff showed heavy bleeding damage, but I estimated that it wasn't going to be life threatening - at least not right away.

Grinning, he held the blood-smeared shield forward towards me, 

My only response was a shake of the head, as I equipped my violin and bow. "These are my armaments."

Sure, I was prepared for some derision at that, but they didn't have to howl with laughter to that extent. Gritting my teeth, I started playing. I might've gone with something easy, but their laughter brought out the anger in me, and I launched straight into the middle of Bach's Chaconne from Partita . It's a notoriously difficult violin piece to begin with. Add to that the annoyance of the pain making it more difficult to handle the rapid hand changes and stretch my fingers as far as I had to, and you had a supremely uncomfortable experience. I sure as hell wasn't backing down now though. Even as I could feel my grip becoming increasingly slippery from the blood, I stared the instructor straight into the face. Plastering an arrogant smile on my face, I doubled down, increasing my speed even further. 

When I got back to Grant's Crossing, I'd have to thank Greck. If nothing else, his insistence on being an ass on every opportunity had prepared me for underhanded behavior. Therefore, it came as no surprise to me, when Tarkos hefted the spear and chucked it straight at me with full force. Before he'd even brought it to shoulder height, my Cuirass of Sound slammed into being, and I took a long stride to the side in order to disrupt his aim even further. It worked - mostly. The spearhead that was aimed at my midriff was brought off course, but the spear haft still managed to slam into my shoulder. Somehow, I kept my concentration, however, and I turned up the smile a notch and taunted the instructor. "Would you like another go? I can keep this up." 

Taunting him probably wasn't the wisest choice, but at least it got the message through. He grunted and made a dismissive gesture. "Acceptable. Mages are known to have decent concentration abilities, but they tend to handle pain poorly."

[Congratulations. You have completed the quest: "Chicken?"

You managed to meet the requirements and show Tarkos that you will not let yourself be thrown off by distractions or pain.

Quest reward:

Your reputation with the castes of Nerit has increased by 300 (+20%) = 360 (180). New reputation: -4820 (despised).

You have received 300 experience points. Experience to next level: 620/4000]

He regarded me sternly. "Do not take this for my acceptance. I accept eight patrons each year, and at this point there are only two spots left open. I will allow you to compete, but you will have to prove your toughness and combat abilities first - and then give me a compelling reason why I should choose you. Know this, however: should anybody else complete the requirements before you, I would be thrilled to accept them before a godless outsider such as you. "

Damn - harsh words - but at least I'd made the initial cut. Nodding my acceptance, I backed out of the room and immediately reassured myself that the bleeding debuff wouldn't kill me. Relieved to see that it would peter out at around 40 per cent health, I checked out the latest quest update.

[You have been offered a quest. "Tall standards"

The warrior instructor Tarkos requires you to pass three tests before he will accept you as his patron

- Prove yourself in combat. (Test begins in 7 days, 2 hours and 12 minutes)

- Prove your toughness and endurance on the Hazing Trail (Test begins in 14 days, 2 hours and 12 minutes)

- Convince the instructor to accept you before the Honor Games start (Games begin in 21 days, 2 hours and 12 minutes)

Reward: 

Entrance to the Honor Games

1000 experience points

300 reputation with the Anathema of Nerit

Accept/Decline?]

My Concentration skill and Cuirass of Sound had both increased - wonderful. Now, this Hazing Trail - that did not sound promising. Ah well, I was here already - might as well take a look around. Fifteen minutes later, I'd taken the tour, and my initial reaction to the place seemed completely deserved - it was a dump. There was no debating the ferocity of the kobolds drilling inside the squares though. In one spot, an ongoing two on two fight had been both ferocious and skilled. They appeared to care little for the physical side of things as long as the bare necessities were met though. Still, a few things were kept in exquisite order - the weapons and armor they carried and a huge wooden map of the Splintered Plateau, complete with miniatures for…troop movements or whatever. There was a long, winding dust trail behind the compound - perhaps half a kilometer in length - that might just be the Hazing Trail. Nothing stood out to justify the name, however. 

In the end, I decided to return to the ever-friendly watch duo that'd been guarding the entrance to ask for their kind assistance. They were all snickers and side glances, like teenagers prepared to have fun at my expense. The small one pointed at my hand, which was covered in dried blood. "You tried to make it? Sorry you have to go. Next year, maybe."

Going for an oblivious display, I responded. "No, Tarkos said I could stay when I passed the first test. However, I wanted to ask you some questions instead of bothering him - he was in the middle of a class." Ignoring their stares, I shouldered on, "There are a few other tests I have to complete here before I become a Patron now, though. Can I come and go and train as I please meanwhile?"

I'm pretty sure the short one said "Is he lying?" in Kobold, before he responded. "If Tarkos pass you, yes."

"Wonderful. Thank you both. Now, there will probably be some opportunities to see one of the combat tests soon, right?" The tall one shrugged. Lot of help from that guy. "Or maybe somebody on the Hazing Trail?"

The smaller one perked up, regained some of his good mood at that. "Tarkos make you go Hazing Trail? I come watch."

"Yeah, sure. You can come watch. I'd just love to know beforehand what it's all about." 

He shrugged. "You, others run. We - haze."

Oh. That was pretty much what I'd feared. Still. "Haze. How?"

He grunted. "Shout. Sing. Throw...stuff."

"Stuff?"

His carnivorous grin told me I really didn't want to inquire more into what exactly the onlookers would be tossing at me. Still, I'd learned enough to go home and consider my situation. I also very much needed to improve my language skills right about now, or I might as well cancel the quests and leave.