Chapter 23 – Put To The Test (Patreon)

There was no time for me to stroll around the place today - soak up the atmosphere, maybe learn how things were going to work. No, the moment I entered the enclosure and was recognized for a contender, I was ushered inside the building. The cramped room was filled with other Anathema - some sitting alone, others chatting in low voices. When they saw who entered, there were two different reactions. Most turned back to whatever they had been doing. A smaller number kept their attention fixed on me, however, shooting me dirty looks. I kept to myself and tried to appear inconspicuous while listening in. I couldn't hear much, but did manage to pick up a few comments 

"What is that mongrel slave doing here? ....no Anathema."

"Hope I get to fight him - he looks weak.”

"New tests every time. I hope that they aren't bringing any animals into the test this time."

What I heard was more than enough to pique my curiosity, but I never got a chance to investigate any further. A shout from the door caused everybody to turn and my very favorite teacher, Instructor Tarkos, stood in the door with his signature sneer fixed on his face.

"Glad that woke you up. I'm addressing you in common because we have somebody with us who knows little of anything." A few heads turned towards me at that, but Tarkos pressed on, "Today will prove a learning experience for all of you, however - Thracken be my witness. Everybody out."

We all obliged, and were soon corralled outside and towards the back of the enclosure. It seemed like every warrior had turned up, eager to watch the spectacle. Tarkos climbed on top of a crate and addressed the gathered Anathema. "You have all shown that you hold a rudimentary degree of control. This is why we allow you the monumental chance to redeem yourselves in the eyes of Thracken. You will have to earn it, however. Control is one thing. Today, however, you will also be allowed to prove two qualities essential to those who aim to become warriors. Stalwartness in the face of the unknown - and the ability to defend. Without those, you will fail. You know the stakes. There is no further shame in admitting that your true place lies among the Fallen - and the cost of seeking redemption can be high. Should you choose to leave now, no-one will hinder you."

Nobody seemed willing to give up at this point though. At a nod from Tarkos, we were roughly divided into groups of four and led to each our spot. With a sadistic grin, the ugliest kobold I've ever seen selected one of the others from my group to go first, and the rest of us were told to sit down with our backs towards the spectacle. 

"You watch, you get beat. Then kicked out." came the merry admonishment from our charisma-challenged minder. Behind us, whatever took place didn't do so in silence. A mixture of shouts and cheers was interrupted by a brief silence and an even louder roar from the crowd - and then - was that screeching? Clearly, the other groups had also started their own spectacle, because everything blended into one. From time to time, a sound would stand out - be it those screeching sounds, a cry of pain or fear or the laughter of the crowd. All too soon, however, a clawed hand fell on my shoulder, and I was pushed towards the sound.

I was jostled from all sides while my hideous caretaker pushed me through the crowd. To my advantage, I was a head higher than most of the kobolds surrounding me, and I managed to spot when the crowd ended and I kept my balance as he shoved me ungently into an open circle. The welcome was unkind, to say the least. Another warrior grinned like a loon as he passed me by, emptying a beaker of some liquid over my shirt.

"What in the pits was that?" I managed?

The warrior was busy washing his hands in a nearby bucket of water, but he took the time to look up. "Not sure. But they really seem to like it." He pointed behind me.

With a sinking feeling in my chest, I swiveled around in time to see the side being opened on a large crate filled with holes. Three dark creatures the size of small dogs climbed out and took to the sky, revealing the source of the screeching sounds. "Vampire bats." I thought. "Cute." I rapidly equipped my violin and prepared to fire up my Cuirass of Sound spell. No flying creatures were going to catch me unaware this time around. 

The bats circled in the air above the cage for a moment, as if undecided, before they caught my scent. As one, they veered towards me, dark ugly beasts with nothing in their minds but hunger. Before they started diving, I caught the nametags - in blue, to my relief - which said simply [Sonic Bat]. Wait - 'sonic' did that mean...? I dropped all ideas of keeping up the protective spell - if my guess was right, it'd only be a waste of mana - and focused on their descent with my violin raised, waiting to time it just right. Right when the trio committed to their descent, two of the three beasts opened their jaws to let out an ear-splitting shriek. As they did, a dark energy erupted from their jaws, thundering towards me. This time, I was prepared though, and I sprinted to the left, steering clear of the energy streams. The two bats started flapping their wings again, rising for yet another attack. The third one continued undeterred, going for my neck with a disgusting set of claws. I almost panicked at the sight of the nightmarish face coming closer and closer even as I ran all out. I forced myself to focus, and felt the wind rising explosively, as I pushed a Sonic Push into being right in front of my own face. It was too late though. A stinging pain spread all across my chin, and I was knocked off my feet. Scrambling to get back up, I could see that the Sonic Push had done its job. The Sonic Bat had tumbled end over end right into the crowd, where a number of warriors were busy cursing and taking it out. Yeah, that trick wasn't going to make me any friends - a couple of the closest warriors were spitting curses at me already. 

The two remaining bats were circling above, earning me a split second to gather my thoughts. A glance at the debuff from the attack told me my status - bleeding with a slight agility and charisma debuff - annoying, but nothing lethal. Still, the cramped circle wasn't the best place for me to fight - with the speed of the bats a stun would be sure to take them down in the middle of the crowd, and a repeat performance might result in a failed test, or worse, from the way the kobolds were glaring at me. Except - why on earth would I need to kill the damn beasts? 'Stalwartness and the ability to defend' - heh. I could do that. 

The flying rats decided to attack from either side, and took a weaving approach. This time, however, I opted to ignore them, raising my violin to start playing. The merry notes seemed out of place in the current martial atmosphere, but I could sense the Entrance Animals spell kicking in, and my mana ticked downwards. There was one downside to this approach - the range was shorter than most sonic spells, meaning I'd have to weather two spells before they entered my range. Gritting my teeth in anticipation, I activated my High Tide skill and focused on my playing. Within moments, I was hit by two spells in succession. The first took a good chunk of my health, but nothing horrible. The other spell. however...I instantly knew which spell it was, as my fingers started cramping up and my legs tried to fold up under me. Stun Blast. Sweat started pouring from me, as I closed my eyes and focused on continuing to play. I felt my knees hitting the ground, but distantly, as if I wasn't fully there. Still, my fingers kept playing. Somewhere I missed a note, and controlling the bow got almost unbearable - but then suddenly, the discomfort faded away.

My eyes opened to the wonderful sight of two butt-ugly rat-faced beings seated on either side of me. My lips split in a huge grin, and I wasted no time in getting to my feet. With the spell active, I knew my mana was limited. Still, I couldn't help but parade the two spellbound animals around the circle for a bit. One round was all I allowed myself, and then I maneuvered the bats into following me until they were right next to the open crate. At that point I stopped playing and slammed the door into the bewildered animals, forcing them to tumble back into the crate. The loud cries from the bats as the spell dissipated were like cheers to my ears, and I turned around in success. Actual cheers were less forthcoming, however. A few kobolds clapped, but the attitude of the majority of the onlookers rose to grudging acceptance at best. A few of them even jeered or hissed at me - especially those near where I'd downed the first bat. They wasted no time on announcing my victory either - I was merely led back to the first room inside the building, passing the third Anathema from my group on the way, as she was hauled off to her fight. 

I had a bit of down time, but couldn't come up with anything clever to pass the time. The debuff turned out to be fairly harmless, but annoying. The bleeding effect had already expired and my health returned, but the debuffs would remain for two additional hours. A couple of pop-ups were waiting for me too, but they were quickly dealt with. One skill-up to Entrance Animals and Concentration each and notices that I'd defeated three Sonic Bats, granting 75 experience points each. Good to see that they believed in the good old school of thought where 'defeat' didn't have to mean 'kill.' 

As I was led back to the room this time around, it wasn't as crowded. It was hard to tell, as I'd been among the first to enter combat, but the number trickling in was undoubtedly lower. Also, a couple of those who came in were in a sorry state. With some time available to me and less people, I managed to hear quite a bit more.

"They got Aleck. The warriors got him out before he died, but - he didn't look good."

"Dogs? Where did they even find dogs?"

"How come the slave made it? They must have gone easy on him?"

Apart from that, I was able to conclude that there weren't any large groups or cliques - mostly people stayed to themselves. My own trio of comrades back in the basement were probably a bit of an anomaly, close-knit as they were. It seemed they weren't too upset with the number of missing, injured and dead from the first combat test - it was probably business as usual. I kept a head count this time around, and had just concluded that 12 remained when Tarkos entered again. This time around, he didn't pontificate or even talk. He just took a look at the room and gestured for us to follow.

After being allowed some time to rest, we were gathered in front of the compound. To one side of the entrance was our reduced group and to the other was the less fortunate group. Instructor Tarkos faced us, flanked by the warriors. His aloof manner was really starting to get on my nerves, and his speech didn't do much to change that. "Today some of you have proved yourself, while others have performed as expected. Even if you do not complete the Hazing Trail, you will still know that you are better than the common Fallen, if not by much. May that be of solace to you in the rest of your short, lousy lives. However, if you aim to actually prove yourselves, you still have a lot of work before you. See you in one week - I suggest you prepare yourselves."

[Quest updated. "Tall standards"

The warrior instructor Tarkos requires you to pass three tests before he will accept you as his patron. You have proven yourself in combat

- Prove your toughness and endurance on the Hazing Trail (Test begins in 6 days,23 hours and 8 minutes)

- Convince the instructor to accept you (Games begin in 13 days, 23 hours and 8 minutes)

Quest reward: 

Entrance to the Honor Games

500 experience points

300 reputation with the Anathema of Nerit]

I was surprised that the defeated Anathema didn't react - hell, nobody as much as stared at the bastard, even when he was telling them that they were the lowest of the low. Instead, the Anathema dispersed in an orderly fashion, as if they all agreed on what he'd said. Speaking for myself, I only agreed with one single thing he'd mentioned - namely that I should prepare myself. 

And prepare I did. I kept to the earlier schedule where I fit in two training sessions with Darek a day, one focusing on combat and the other on language. I also made sure to come around the training compound on a daily basis and fit in some sessions with Arack almost every day. Additionally, I kept up my meetings with Darya, who managed to keep us all fed without problems - the trio were even putting aside stores for leaner days. A couple of times, I brought Atlas along, and by now he had completely adopted the beefy half-orc. Hell, he often ignored me in favor of fawning over her and her tasty snacks and neck scratches.

The day after the combat test, I had a real breakthrough with the crowd. By then, they'd definitely gotten used and accepted to my presence - they still held back though, and rarely participated or gave any feedback. However, with the behavior of the warrior instructor fresh in mind, I wanted to do something special and sat down to write a song for the crowd. It wasn't going to win any prices for impressive finger work or beautiful passages - I kept it simple and jolly instead. 

When I needed a second opinion to make sure that the kobolds would get my point, Muriel just chuckled. "You're playing with fire, boy. This isn't going to win you any friends among the high and mighty." and encouraged me to leave it exactly like it was. 

The Anathema of Nerit had gotten used to hearing me by know, and most of the songs I knew by heart, I'd played various times over. Therefore, that evening, when I prefaced the song with the message that this was something I'd created just for them, a couple of heads rose. A couple of people stared openmouthed, as I sang about 'A warrior so full of might - he's plain forgotten how to fight.' It wasn't until half way into the first chorus that I really caught their attention though - when I mentioned Tarkos by name. Whatever else was going to happen in Nerit, I was always going to have that image to treasure - a plaza filled with astonished faces, most fighting to keep from grinning as I poured derision on a person most hated. They maintained their composure well - at least until the start of the second verse, as I warned them of the perils of attacking him, even if he appeared unarmed. 'Do try your luck, but keep in mind - he hides a stick up his behind.' was too much for them, and I was forced to a short break as they broke down in laughter. The rest of the song, everybody listened in rapt attention, but I still had to pause twice more, as they reacted to the new experience of somebody mocking their authority figures. The applause as I finished was deafening, and I reveled in it. 

One could criticize me for talking smack about the one person whose goodwill I needed in order to complete my quest and, but this wasn't a stratagem I'd come up with on a whim. Seeing as how Tarkos had already singled me out and made it clear that he disliked me, I'd decided that trying to gain his favor the regular way was. As long as I was still in the running, I'd be safe against any direct action against me - or so I hoped - so I might as well go the other route and try to force his acceptance instead. How, I wasn't too sure, but there were plenty of avenues open to me - and the day's reaction felt like a good start.

My earlier assumptions about language skill increases were spot on. The second language lesson following the combat test, I received the notification congratulating me on reaching Apprentice level in the written kobold language. Waiting for the lesson to finish was a test of my patience, but finally I was able to retire to the common room with the history book, eager to delve into the sordid past of Greck.

To my disappointment, I received nothing of the kind. If anything, the story revolved around the sordid past of Nerit - and even at that, it was pretty boring. I found it to be equal parts history book and personal journal, liberally sprinkled with philosophizing on his part. My language skills still left me baffled at a good deal of passages, and I'd probably be better off asking Arack to help me read it aloud. I wasn't planning to show this book to anybody though - for all I knew, it was filled to the brim with heresy. In fact, it probably was. There was a good deal of speculation about how the Church was actually calling the shots in Nerit and the Chief reigned in title alone. Over the following days, the book became my good night tonic, as I tried to decipher just a bit more before bedtime and - well, even with my having to guess at large parts of the meaning and Greck's own speculation, the contents were intriguing. My largest initial surprise was discovering that Greck had not only joined the Church of Thracken as a youth - he'd been a true believer. The reasons for the fallout were either not written well or just too advanced for me, and I definitely failed at making heads and tails of the conclusion - but the result was evident - I needed to double down on my learning. While there was no fixed limit to my stay in Nerit, if I did eventually make it to a parlay with the Chief, I'd want as much intel on my side as possible.

In the end, though, even with my diligence in visiting the warrior compound daily, that master plan completely failed me. At least, it failed in providing me with an opening in order to find something to let me convince Tarkos to let me participate in the Honor Games. In the end, the resolution fell straight into my lap. Or rather, came charging at me from behind a nearby wall. 

The first days as an Anathema, I'd been vigilant all the time. I had taken painstaking care to vary my routes and keep my eyes open for Talen and his ilk. Lately, however, I'd let my attention slide, and I was walking the streets of Nerit with no thought for my own safety. I woke up fast enough, however, as a shout shattered the silence. "Look out Arcangelo!"

While Darek would have criticized my lack of attention, my subsequent reaction should be deemed acceptable in his eyes. First a double step to the left to avoid any objects flying my way. Then a rapid glance to take in the situation while I activated Cuirass of Sound and equipped my violin. Things weren't looking too good. Three kobolds, brimming with weapons, sprinting all out to get to me - one of them let a hand axe fly at me and bellowed in frustration when the Cuirass deflected it. The moment they entered range, I let a Stun Blast fly. Two of them dropped to the ground, but the third managed to evade the blast with a rolling dodge. As a compliment to his skills, I met him with a Sleep spell, and his speed slowly flagged before he lay down and closed his eyes. My subsequent 'fight or flight' decision was quickly made for me, as the voice rang out again - "Run already!" - and I complied. I did spend a split second creating a Photographic Memory in order to learn who'd jumped me. For the moment, however, I ran with all I had. From the angry voices behind me, pursuit was right on my heels. I turned a corner at full speed to see a grinning Arack wave at me from behind the corner of a nearby ruin. A minute later, and we were hiding out behind a rumbling wall, listening to the voices disappearing in the distance.

We spent another couple of minutes in silence to ensure that the hunt was off - easier said than done, when I was bursting with the need to ask one particular question. Still, my mother taught me to always be polite. "Arack - thank you very, very much for saving me back then - it would've been my hide if they'd been any closer before I saw them." There. That ought to be enough formalities. "Did you just happen to chance upon us? I mean, I'm incredibly lucky that you did, but..."

She looked down, unwilling to meet my eyes, and murmured something undecipherable. 

"What was that?"

"I've been keeping an eye on you from time to time, ok?"

"You've been following me?" 

She placed her hands on her hips. "Well - yes. When I could find the time. And don't you dare scold me too. You've managed to make so many enemies, that you need somebody to look out for you. And don't you dare tell me you don't need my help. I've managed to derail one of Talen's thugs twice now."

"Really? I just figured that they'd forgot about it by now - should've known better. That means I probably owe you my life twice or more over now. What have I done to inspire this, Arack? I mean, I'm honored, but I haven't really done anything for you."

Her frown disappeared and was replaced by a brilliant smile, . "Are you kidding? You're the first person ever to entertain Nerit without asking for compensation. I mean, who even does that? And you might not see it, but your presence has changed our family too. Even if he says he hates your music, Muriel goes out of his way to see your performances - he says he likes how you stir up the pot. Darek - well, he's Darek. He doesn't exactly share his thoughts and feelings. Still, once after one of your sessions, I caught him smiling. Darek! So all told, you've done more for me and mine than any other, including my sorry excuse for a family."

I searched my mind, but found no ready reply for that. "Well - that one's on the house. Still, I don't feel good about you just running around risking your life on my behalf. Especially if they figure out who you are."

"Stop right there. I've said it before - I'm good at what I do, and you're not convincing me to stop."

"How about you just accompany me then? That'd give me a possibility for helping if you were caught out."

"Nope - not going to happen. If people see me with you, they'll soon figure out that we're friends, and the result will be the same."

I groaned. "Well, since you've though of everything, consider this: If you go and get yourself caught, I'll be ever so disappointed in you. I'm not going to be the one to tell Darek and Muriel that you got your fool self killed because you wanted to protect some daft bard."

She beamed at me, and flung herself forward into a tight embrace. "Don't worry, Uncle Archie. I'll be careful."

"Uncle...no!"

"Oh yes, Uncle."

We spent a while just walking and bickering, until I remembered the screenshot I'd taken. I brought up the interface while we walked, again marveling at the level of detail in the function. This time around, I only needed a few seconds, before I closed the interface with a satisfied sigh.

"What does that grin mean, Arcangelo?"

"That means I figured out who just jumped me and I'm all a-tingle with the thoughts of the karma that I'm going to bestow on him."

The day after, I returned to the warrior compound as usual. Instead of setting up shop near a training dummy, I toured the grounds until I was able to lay eyes on my target. The agile male with the crimson scales who'd asked to my weapon was running through some spear exercises with a small group. Neither of the other attackers were nearby though - perfect.

In real life, I've never been the confrontational type - while I have a bit of a temper, I don't seek out confrontation. Lately, however, I seemed to be getting a taste for it. The thought of approaching somebody who could easily take me out in a physical match and then take them out, using only words - yeah, that was kind of addicting. I even had to force myself to keep from adopting a cocky smirk as I approached him and plaster on the subservient attitude of an Anathema approaching a warrior. Keeping my eyes down, I asked in a low voice, "Apologies for interrupting. I was told that I should turn to you for instructions."

The small group paused their training to see what was going on. Clearly uncomfortable, my assailant adopted an arrogant tone. "Oh yeah? Who told you that?"

"He didn't mention his name, but I'm supposed to ask about a couple of spears. Should we talk somewhere else, so we don't disturb the training?"

He shrugged, as if he didn't care one whit. "I suppose, if these birdbrains are unable to focus on their own training, we had better move it."

When we turned the nearest corner, he gripped my arm and slammed me against the wall, hissing "What in the Pits do you want?" 

Letting the submissive attitude drop, I bared my teeth at him. "A talk. Something more civil than what you and your goons tried to do yesterday."

He backed off a bit, crossing his arms over his chest and sneered. "So what if I don't care to talk to you? What are you going to do then?"

"Why do we have to go right there? For all I know, we could be friends, you and I, in a different situation. The thing is, we both know that I could take this to Oath, get it mediated officially, and you'd be in a world of trouble, unless of course you want to lie to him. I have no interest in going that route, however.  See, I have this gift that allows me to freeze an image and review it afterwards. This gave me the chance to get a got look on the faces of you and your comrades. What surprised me wasn't the fact that I recognized you. No, it was the look on your face."

He didn't talk, just glared at me, which encouraged me to continue.

"There was no rage to be found there. You'd expect that. Or distaste. Blood thirst. Battle frenzy, even. But when I looked upon you, I saw none of that - only regret - which makes no sense, unless you really didn't want to be there in the first place."

He exhaled forcefully and looked down, murmuring something in Kobold I couldn't quite catch. He continued out loud, "Sure, you're right. Why would I hate you? Even if I were as vigilant in following the tenets of Thracken as some of the others, you've done nothing wrong. Speaking up against Tarkos, "He turned to spit at the name, "isn't heresy. Especially when everything you say is true. That's about all I can do though. Tarkos might twist the words of Thracken when it suits him, but there's no denying that he's in charge. If I were to speak out against him - even if we involved Oath - I doubt that anything would change, except for me joining you in the ranks of the Fallen."

"Wait. Tarkos has the power to influence who 's named Anathema? My belief was that this was solely in the hands of the Liberator and the Church?"

"Yeah, right. Tell that to Lidack and his crew. Used to be real tight with the Instructor back in the old days, then they have a falling-out and all of a sudden they find themselves in the outskirts with the mark on their faces."

"You know, that might just be what I need to rattle the throne of our good Instructor. Where would I be able to find them?"

He shrugged. "From what I hear, Lidack's brother sometimes brings him some scraps. You're not supposed to - technically they're not part of society anymore - but family, right?" With a sigh, he continued, "Listen. You tell his brother that I'm cashing in the favor from back when I covered for him. He'll know what I mean. As for the two of us, we're square, right?"

I gave him a curt nod. "Goes without saying, but I won't mention your name anywhere. Thank you for guiding me the right way."

Half an hour later, after the brother had nudged me in the right direction, I was standing at the edge of the plaza, looking at an example of just how low a former warrior could fall. The decrepit form installed right next to two midsized barrels and a handful of half-broken mugs could barely be recognized as a kobold, let alone a former member of the highest caste in Nerit. Only the scars on his dull scales were a testament to his former occupation. At first, I believed that he was asleep, but after a moment he called at me - first in Kobold, but then he switched over in Common halfway through.

"Hey. You planning on buying anything? This ... isn't free. Oh. I have seen you around here, playing. You come visit Lidack for the best damn Ache in Nerit?"

A glance at the crockery which had lonce since left regular 'dirty' behind told me that we were looking at a very specific definition of 'best.' "No. Your brother told me where I could find you - he doesn't know why I'm here though. It's regarding Instructor Tarkos."

He sighed and let himself drop back down to recline against the barrel. "So Tarkos is going to clean house? Honestly, I'd expected it to happen a lot earlier. And not by a damn scaleless freak either. Clever stunt with your song though - nobody's going to suspect you're on his side!"

"Fortunately, this scaleless freak isn't on Tarkos's side - I'm on yours. My mission is pretty much the opposite of what you're thinking. I aim to pull Tarkos down - or at the very least make things a lot less crappy for us Anathema. In order to succeed, though, I need what's inside that old head of yours."

He looked at me like his world had been turned upside down, then snorted and showed me the dagger he'd been hiding under his hand. "In that case, I won't be needing this. I'm not talking though. I haven't lived to the ripe age of thirty two by going up against the powers of Nerit." 

"By the powers of Nerit, you mean Tarkos - I get it. And I understand you. I mean, it's your life at stake. Still, doesn't it make you angry? You're thrown to the curb and have to fear for your life, and he just enjoys life as one of the most important warriors in the city."

He glared at me. "What do you think? Of course it ticks me off. However, shoddy as my life may be, I'm kind of attached to it."

It was hard to disagree with his stance. Still, I couldn't just this drop. Activating High Tide, I asked "So...what if there was a way around that? If the two of us just have a friendly chat, and I swear that your name will not be mentioned?"

He hesitated. "That could work. And I would love to get back at the bastard." He mulled it over for a bit and then nodded to himself. "Rumor around town is that you're a follower of that treacherous hag, Serune? I want you to swear on her name."

"...Why? I mean, you guys clearly hold no love for her."

"Isn't it obvious? If you're dumb enough to break an oath to the Goddess of Grudges, there's no limit to what you would do."

That was pretty solid reasoning. I swore an explicit oath to keep him out of whatever damage I could do to Tarkos, and Lidack clapped his hands in appreciation.

"That's a cause for celebration if ever I heard it. Pick a mug, and we'll chat. Can't talk with my lips all dry, can I?"

With great reluctance, I accepted a sip of the horrid substance and - it was everything I'd feared. Once, I'd tried homebrewed Romanian slivovitz - this was worse. There were dregs and flecks at which I dared not look too closely and I couldn't even start to guess at which plant or vegetable had been mistreated to provide this horrid mixture. The effect was indisputable though. I swear I could feel the system shutting off my brain cells one by one. Within minutes, we were chatting freely. The story wasn't entirely as detailed as I'd hoped - a good number of years selling and drinking Ache had taken its toll on Lidack's memory - but the main points stood clear. The good Tarkos had once been part of a merry band of five hunters. They were 'a bunch of lazy bums who did ‘exactly what was needed less maybe an inch or two,' according to Lidack. That is, right up till the day when Tarkos realized that he might actually be talented enough to become a warrior. Their breakup happened without drama, and the group wished him well. Still, as Tarkos rose up higher in the hierarchy of the warriors, the old crew were one by one deemed to be Anathema. The first one came as no surprise - as Lidack put it, "We'd all been skirting 'round the edge of proper behaviour more than once." Still, when they were only two remaining, they realized it was no coincidence. 

Lidack emptied his cup, refilling it to the brim with a determined frown. "We debated what to do, Menerck and I, but in the end we fought. He wanted to jump ship - said he'd heard rumours about a group that was willing to take in kobolds looking for a fresh start. Me, I thought even a life with the Fallen was preferable to go on a wild chase into the unknown." He scratched behind his spike ridge, dislodging a nugget of...something. "I may have chosen wrong. What really gets to me is how we didn't fight back. Pits, we didn't even consider the possibility - Tarkos was already so much higher in the hierarchy than we were." 

As to the topic of exactly what it was that Tarkos wanted to keep hidden, he was less convinced. "It could've been any number of things, really. He was in favor of peace back then, you know? Wanted to reach out to other races, improve our situation here in the woods. Not exactly what the tenets of Thracken said back then. And the things we did. Heh. Stole an entire boar side from the Chief's cook. Spent three days on a bender near a lake and claimed we'd gotten lost. And that time Tarkos nicked the Liberator's old ceremonial knife on a wager."

"Wait - what was that? He did that? Where's the knife now?"

"Well, I...I'm not sure. I think Menerck stashed it somewhere. You see, we'd gotten a tun of not-quite-fermented wine and went..."

I cut in, "I think that's it. If somebody were to actually bring back the knife and link it to Tarkos, that'd be sacrilege, right?" Stories and rumors were one thing, but this sounded like the first actual proof - and if I played it right, I wouldn't even have to get the knife. 

"Mmhm. Of the worst kind. It would be hard to prove, though, and I really don't know where Menerck is."

"Oh, I have a pretty good idea where he's at." I just hoped that he wasn't one of the two kobolds I'd killed during my bard trial. "But proof isn't the most important thing right now. Knowing why he exiled you in the first place was."

We spent a while longer, drinking and swapping tall tales. Well, he drank and I sipped carefully. Lidack was actually an extremely likable fellow, as long as you didn't sit too close to him. He told me about the remaining two members of their old group. One had died a couple of years back but the final guy, Komack, could be found nearby, scraping a living as a scrounger and occasional baiter. This apparently consisted of having to move in front of the actual hunter party in areas inhabited by exceptionally dangerous animals. Usually, this was a last-recourse job, but a few especially agile and fast ex-hunters were good enough to survive repeat performances.  

I scratched my neck, not quite sure how to continue. "Listen, Lidack. I appreciate your help, but I want to be honest here. Your name is safe, but I might have to mention Menerck to get some traction."

"Go right ahead. He's chosen his path, and I wish him all the best - but wherever he's at, he's away from all of this. Besides, that high and mighty bastard Tarkos deserves what's coming to him. Best keep Komack out of it as well entirely."

We got back to swapping tales and a while later, I felt reassured that I'd pumped him of all useful knowledge. He and I were becoming fast friends, and the Ache started tasting less foul - a danger sign if ever there were one. My feet were not sure if they were up to the task, but when I got up, they obeyed, however shakily. "Lidack, I won't forget this. Or so I hope - this stuff really has a kick to it."

"Hah - I love seeing a first-timer try a sip of Ache. Come back and tell me how things went, y'hear?"

A brisk walk cleared the worst fog from my mind. Still, I wasn't going to sober up right away - I had an 'inebriated' debuff lasting for the next three hours. I was whistling as I went, however - this had been an excellent day. No quest updates or anything - the wording of the original quest still remained 'convince the Instructor to accept you.' Heh. Well, I was ready for some convincing - and I damn sure hoped that Tarkos was not prepared for anything beyond a heartfelt plea. Oh, nice. My blackmail skill had increased once, back in the conversation with that warrior who'd ambushed me - never did catch his name. Apparently, to Exogenics, emotional blackmail still counted as blackmail, and I sure wasn't complaining. A skill point is a skill point. 

When I sobered up, I went back to my routines. As for Tarkos, I was going to save him for last - convincing him would be a waste, if I failed the final test. 

In the middle of the second week, I was recuperating from a tough training session with Darek, when I received a pop-up. Confused, I brought it up.

[You have failed the quest: "Facades" 

Sareena Gloridien has left Grant’s Crossing. You have failed to figure out the truth behind her presence in the village in time. The consequences of this are yet to be seen. ]

Wonderful! Never had I been this pleased at failing a quest before. This meant that I’d be safe to return to the village whenever I pleased. Now I could focus fully on the task at hand without having that preying on my thoughts.

Two days before facing the Hazing Trail I approached Muriel. "Hey - I need your help, and I need it bad."

"Aw. I'm glad to hear you finally admitting it. Want my help in destroying that old instrument you keep tormenting?"

"No - you tone deaf brute. I need your help in sneaking into the warrior compound tomorrow night and planting a bunch of traps."

He looked at me, and then slowly rummaged around in his earhole with a clawed finger. "Did I get that straight? That sounded like 'Please help me commit suicide.' to me."

I shook my head. "I'm not planning an attack or anything of the kind. Here, let me explain..." and I laid it all out for him, drawing it out in the dust floor.

When I was done, he rose to a squat. "All right - suppose I know my way around traps and that I could be persuaded to believe that this isn't suicide. Give me one good reason to do it though. What's in it for me?"

This exact question had presented a bit of an obstacle for me when I was planning my approach. Food was not a possibility, I had no items worth mention to spare and even if I'd owned any spare cash it wasn't worth anything in these parts. After due consideration, I opted for a new approach - to me, at least. Charity. "For you? Nothing. However - you know what I'm in Nerit for. If you help me prepare the trail tomorrow night, I'll expand my mission here to include doing whatever I can to improve the situation for all Anathema in Nerit."

For a moment, he didn't respond at all. "What would make you think that I care about those other losers?"

I maintained my poker face. "I don't know - you tell me? Do we have a deal?" This was a toss of the dice, but if I'd read him right, he did indeed care a lot more than he admitted about the plight of the Fallen.

"I...curse you, yes." He lifted an admonishing finger. "Don't you dare tell anyone about this, or the deal is off."

"I wouldn't." Smirking, I continued, "Despite your horrible taste in music and weird odor, you're not the worst company in this sorry excuse for a city."

Muriel barked a laugh. "We'll add 'sense of humor' to the list of things we need to work on. Now tell me about those traps. And forget about joining me - if we want this to succeed, I'm not dragging your pasty-white behind around with me at night." 

[You have been offered a quest: “Dirty Deeds”

You have entered into an agreement with Muriel. He will help you rig the Hazing Trail. In exchange, you must strive to improve the situation for the Anathema of Nerit.

Reward: 

Reputation gain with the Anathema of Nerit depending on the success.

Failure: reputation loss with Muriel.]

We agreed on the specifics, and I handed over every single trap I'd created to him - no turning back now.

The day of the Hazing Trail arrived without fanfare, and I got up, groaning and cursing the day for arriving too soon - more out of habit than any actual lack of sleep. The past two weeks, I'd slept like a babe from all the physical and mental exhaustion. This moment, I desired nothing else but being back in Grant's Crossing, sleeping in and ordering a lavish breakfast buffet for myself - with an entire pot of steaming coffee for myself. Whatever else happened, I had the possibility of returning to Grant’s Crossing and Gillem’s cook pots whenever I wanted. Still, it was better to keep my head in the present. I shoveled down the morning meal - Darya was an excellent cook, but the circumstances didn't allow for much variety or good cooking implements, and my cuisine to a large part consisted of meat. Still, it wasn't all bad - I finished with a piece of jerky I'd been saving for today - that was one fresh addiction I wasn't getting rid of anytime soon. 

During the last test at the warrior compound, I'd been impressed at the number of spectators to show up - however, the crowd today was at least half again as large as last time. To my surprise, I even spotted a bunch of Fallen interspersed among the warriors. Finding where to go was easy - my fellow contestants were lined up on the Hazing Trail, waiting for everything to start. There was still a bit of time to kill before the start, though, and I'd spotted a familiar face among the crowd - an old geezer who loved the saucier songs. I sidled up next to him, and asked, "Hey - I didn't know Anathema were allowed today?"

He grinned at me in welcome, producing a folded foul-smelling piece of canvas he was dragging along with him. "We don't get much entertainment. So when they allow us the chance to have a little fun - well, I'm not saying no. No hard missiles allowed, but I got creative this year." He unwrapped the canvas, displaying a huge load of mud pies...except that definitely wasn't mud I was smelling.

Shaking my head in amazement, I took my leave. "You take care to aim at the others, you hear?"

The old rascal let out a braying laugh as I walked away. "No promises!"

In fact, it was rather clever, I surmised as I walked to take my place near the other contestants. This wasn't just a test of endurance – it was also a test of your reflexes and a popularity contest of sorts. It allowed the warriors to try to hinder those they disliked from winning at the same time that the Anathema of Nerit were encouraged to mock and deride those who tried to achieve higher standing. In other words: 'Stay in your place, losers."

This loser, however, wasn't going to take no for an answer. Joining the group, I surveyed the scenery and couldn't help but grin in anticipation. The winding dust trail looked undisturbed, meaning my nefarious plan had probably not been blown. Right now, I was framed by a pack of seven kobolds who were all hardier, more agile and more accostumed to long runs than me - and I was chomping at the bit to get started.

As if he'd read my mind, Tarkos majestically strode onto the setting and delivered an empassioned speech in a deadpan voice. The details were exactly what one could imagine from a leader with no sense of public speaking and an inflated opinion of himself. 'Warriors are a select group. Not everyone can perform under stressing circumstances. The chance of a lifetime to join our prestigious caste. Give it your all. We will weed out the weak.' And so on, and so forth. My erst-time principal had done a better job of trying to sell the idea of the chess club as a prestigious possibility to a bunch of 14 year old kids brimming with hormones. Tarkos did, however, provide the service of explaining the rules and limitations: 5 laps around the trail - so maybe...5-6 kilometers total. No attacking each other on the trail on pain of disqualification. No spells or potions. That last part was delivered with a smug glance at me. Ok, maybe I imagined the 'smug' part, but it definitely felt personal. As for the audience, there was only one rule: No hard missiles or weapons. Otherwise, feel free to distract, bombard, yell at or otherwise inconvenience the runners.

Tarkos eventually ran out of hot air, and we lined up on the start line, ready to go. An all-too-short countdown later, and we were off. Instantly, I could tell how outclassed I was. With little effort, the other runners outpaced me, even with their short legs, and my stamina disappeared at an alarming rate. All right - time to get on with the cheats.

The other day during my crafting session, the results seemed relatively unimpressive to me. It was my own fault, really - I hadn't been grinding my crafting skills and it showed. Nevertheless, of the results I ended up with, two were just right for my current predicament.

Right this moment, a total of fifteen traps were dispersed over the trail, placed with loving care by Muriel according to the placement we'd agreed upon - or so I hoped. I’d gone all in, using all trap materials I’d brought. Three of the traps were placed along the optimal running track at intervals to cause a bit of mayhem.

[Small Rope Trap

This trap is basically an ensorcelled length of string. It will need to be attached somewhere in order to activate it and will then unleash its enchantment on whoever or whatever stumbles unwarily into the trap.

Effect: Stun

Effect duration: Instant

Activation cost: 30 mana

Activation time: 30 seconds

Trap duration: 24 hours]

It had taken a bit of experimentation to get it right but in the end, we'd come up with a decent solution where we'd bury the ends of the rope trap. The result was a loop of rope, liberally coated with dirt, sticking out from the dirt to catch the feet of the unaware. In theory, the rope itself could be enough to trip up a runner, but the stun effect was sure to cause some mayhem. Those traps were not what I was counting on to win, however. In the next turn, I swerved to the outer side of the wide trail, taking the longest possible route through the curve. Knowing what to look for, my high perception score and spot skills were up to the task as I spotted the clusters of rope emerging from the ground. One. Two. Three. Four. Damn. Five. Ok, I missed one, but the effect of the five traps instantly made themselves known, as my agility jumped from a paltry 9 to 14. 

[Small Rope Trap

This trap is basically an ensorcelled length of string. It will need to be attached somewhere in order to activate it and will then unleash its enchantment on whoever or whatever stumbles unwarily into the trap.

Effect: +1 agility

Effect duration: 10 minutes

Activation cost: 30 mana

Activation time: 30 seconds

Trap duration: 24 hours]

I could practically feel my gait becoming more smooth and my breath more even as the effect of +5 agility soared into my system. I might not be up to the level of your average kobold, but my longer legs were proving an advantage, and ever so slowly, I was gaining on the others. Good thing too, because the crowd was waking up and the first taunts were coming my way. Moments later, the first missiles followed. FPS (First Person Shooters) have never been my favorite games - I prefer the possibility to ponder your decision before the adrenaline-pumping, split-second decision making stress of shooters. Nevertheless, this was exactly what diving into the crowd felt like - some amped-up FPS with no end in sight. Both sides of the trail were packed with onlookers cheering, hooting, taunting and cursing. From time to time, somebody would decide upon a target and haul a missile at them, usually followed by a gale of laughter if it connected. 

I received more than my fair share of missiles and soon had the dubious pleasure of being able to use everything Darek had taught me about dodging. Nonetheless, even with my skill increases, I wasn't up to the task. At the end of the first lap, my clothes were liberally smeared with rotten fruit and worse, and I'd taken 12 blunt damage - that apple had hurt. My position was improving, though. I'd set off an additional three agility traps and only had three runners ahead of me. One poor soul had sprung a stun trap mid-curve and tumbled straight into the middle of the crowd. From the enraged cries of the spectators, the odds of his returning to compete in the race didn't look good. The rest, I'd slowly overtaken, one by one. My stamina was looking all right too - only a third used so far, even with the slow start.

To my dismay, one fatal flaw in my plan revealed itself. Each lap took me well over two minutes to complete, meaning the agility boost would run out before I completed the fifth lap. During the second lap, I managed to activate the remaining four and set to work. Gods, I hated running! Still, I was progressing. A strained snarl was the only reaction from her when I managed to take over the third in place near the end of the second round. To me, the crowd was turning into a blur - one mass of screaming, snarling, laughing faces. I had stopped attempting to dodge any missiles except the ones aiming for my head - there were too many.  Only one person stood out in my mind. Even being forewarned, I was unable to pick out the kobold lass with the spikes until after she launched her surprise at me. An awkward roll to the right saved me from the worst consequences, but I still took a massive blow to the shoulder. Nice. A rock packed into a liberal amount of mud – just like back in school! Mentally adding her to the list, I padded onward.

Third lap and things were looking up. I was slowly gaining on number two. Halfway through, by a stroke of luck, he chanced into one of the two remaining traps and crashed to the ground in the middle of the trail. He wasn't out for the count, though. As I passed him by, he groaned and tried to get back up, but I never slowed and left him scraping in the dirt. The next couple of minutes were one long, slow grind. By now, I'd actually taken almost half my health in blunt damage from all the missiles that hit me – especially that damn rock - but I saw no other recourse but to soldier on.

Until right before the finishing line on the third lap, that is. I skipped a step, as something rebounded from my shoulder hard enough to make me lose my stride. Ouch - had that been another stone? No, just another damned apple . Still, it smarted and had actually taken a chunk of health off my bar. Looking up, my eyes were instinctively drawn to a single, sneering face in the crowd. Talen. Damnit. He was surrounded by a couple of his cronies, throwing an apple up and down with a huge, cold smile on his face. Gah. If ever I had the chance to lay my hands on him. Shaking my head, I dismissed him from my mind and focused on the run.  Talen was not the only one to cause troubles though. Upon entering the fourth round, the lead runner opted to increase his speed instead of slowing down from fatigue. My stamina ticked down to zero, and I was forced to use yet another of my limited charges from my Second Wind earring, watching it spring back up to full. This was going to be close. Even though I was well past halfway, during the last lap, my agility was going to drop by 8, increasing my stamina drain. That was disregarding the fact that the lead runner might very well choose to pick up speed again. 

Bit by hard-won bit, I gained on the kobold before me. Focusing on his clawed feet kicking up dirt before me helped to ignore the screaming crowd. Inside my skull, a silent mantra ran on repeat, "Hit a trap. Hit a trap." He of course stubbornly kept on ignoring my heartfelt wish. Drat. Never the less, going into the final curve before the finish line, I was less than ten meters behind him, and I had slightly above half my stamina remaining. I wasn't the least bit surprised to see Talen standing ready with a handful of apples and a focused look on his face. The moment I came into range, he started throwing like he was trying to kill me. I, on the other hand, used every skill I'd learned from Darek - dodging, weaving and rolling for all I was worth. Even so, right at the the critical point, I had to pass him at ten meters of distance, at most. This is how I found myself staring Talen right in the face as he launched his final missile with a triumphant grin - and managed to take the brunt of the throw directly on the snout.

For a moment there, I lost sight entirely as I felt blood pouring from my nose. Somehow, I managed to keep on the track, even as I stumbled along, holding my bloodied face. I wiped the tears from my face and focused on regaining speed. The lead runner had made good use of my interruption and a quick glance behind me showed me that the third was close behind. I regained my focus, however, and got back into the beat. The gap up to number one seemed unmanageable, but I focused on getting closer, bit by bit - and for a while, it looked like it was working. I figured they must be as drained as I was at this point, even if they didn't have to deal with a 'heavy nose bleed' debuff that gave me a penalty to Concentration and a bleeding debuff that left my health at 30 per cent.  Then the first -3 decrease to my agility hit. My speed started flagging immediately, and I could see my stamina draining faster. At this point, I set my mind to one thing - running - and forgot about all distractions. Everything revolved around my arms, legs and breath and I shut out the rest of the world. Of course, with a quarter lap to go, the next -5 decrease hit me. I could almost feel the rhythm departing, and my footsteps felt heavy and clumsy once more. So. Damn. Close. The lead runner was just ahead of me, sporting a slight limp. As we entered the final curve, I was just five meters behind him. I spared a glance over my shoulder, spotting, to my horror, the third runner coming up behind me with a determined look on his face. 

My stamina was trickling down towards zero. I don't know what I spotted first - Talen or the finish line, but I do know what kept my attention locked. Even exhausted as I was, all cobwebs fled my mind as I saw his frenzied grin and the glint of something indeterminable inside his hand. Mind racing, I activated Photographic Memory. It was the first time I'd used it on the fly, but I only needed to do two things. Take a screenshot - done. Then open and enhance...that goddamn maniac! I closed the overlay before me, but the image of the small and sleek throwing dagger resting in his hand took a while to leave my retinas.

Think fast! If Talen could cheat then...no, no spells, or I'd end up with Thracken's fury unleashed upon me. What the hell were the rules again? You're not allowed to attack anybody. No. That wasn't it. Maybe...the roar of the crowd pummeled my ears, as I desperately searched my inventory, stumbling and almost falling before I found what I was searching for. I only spared a split second to check that I'd retrieved the right item.

Small Clay Bomb

A fragile clay shell surrounds the Tinkerer’s core and will release the enchantment contained within upon impact with the target.

Damage upon impact: 10 slashing

Effect: Stuns target for 1.0 second.

Radius: 1.0 meter

 

Intoning a silent prayer, I let it sail through the air - straight into the crowd. I had to hand it to Talen - the little twerp was fast. Even mid-throw, he managed to turn his throw into an elegant evasive maneuver. It would have looked downright elegant too, if it hadn't been for the fact that I'd aimed the bomb not at his chest, but at his feet. As the bomb shattered, the effect shot out from the impact, catching him by surprise with a goofish look on his face. This is what I pictured afterwards, at least. Personally, I saw nothing. The moment the bomb left my hand, I focused all my efforts on the remaining distance to the goal and the remaining opponent in front of me. Less than 10 meters remaining, and only a sliver of stamina left - but I could almost touch him. Summoning what little energy I had to me, I gave it all in one final sprint. My motion felt slow as a glacier, as I gained on him. First a hand. Then an arm's length. Finally, close enough to pat his shoulder if I wanted - and then my stamina ran out, and I stumbled to the ground and lost all sense of direction as the ground and sky took turns presenting themselves to me.