novelraw Chapter 7-3
Chapter 7-3
This author finds it fascinating that a majority of both ancient and modern holidays commemorate military action, either directly or indirectly. From Independence Day to Founding Day, Memorial Day to Q-Day, we honor those that fought for our freedoms and the great victories they brought us.
Should anyone hold the mistaken belief that the pre-System world was a haven of peace and prosperity, simply ask yourself why was it so essential to celebrate the military of pre-System times?
- Rufus Veres, Level 29 Prolix Historian, Oddities of the System
The rest of the day was fucking terrible. I didn’t see Tara again, either at lunch or when we gathered for dinner. My conflicting feelings did not help, and neither did seeing Raylan and Jayce holding hands as the rest of the team headed towards dinner. I pulled Arlo aside as the others walked on ahead of us.
“Have you seen Tara?” I demanded.
“You mean since she came to my room crying this morning?” he asked dryly, and my heart clenched.
“Uh… shit.”
“She didn’t tell me what happened, but it’s obvious she’s mad at you. I’d stay away from her until she calms down. What did happen, anyway?” he asked.
I didn’t reply, stomping off to the dining hall in frustration. As we ate, Raylan sensed my dour mood – ok, everyone did – but Raylan was the one that came up with an idea to distract me.
phtbtpth!
Grumbling, we each transferred her five feathers for winning the bet. The competition had been to see who could repeat the tongue-twiser the most times over the Comms while eating. I had failed badly, Jayce had made it through the phrase three times and Raylan twice. Zaire and Arlo had refused to play, and G’hala defeated us roundly with five full repetitions with a mouth full of food.
The jovial mood was cut short a moment later.
Squad Update:Tara Gleason has left the Squad
On Saturday I really didn’t know what to do with myself. We hadn’t had two days off in a row since starting the Academy, and now we had three. And our team was fractured, thanks to me. Jayce was the only one who’d seen Tara the night before, but she’d avoided us at breakfast again. I assumed she was eating at the restaurant or something.
The rest of us decided to go into Backhorn for a while after lunch. There wasn’t much to do in town, but it was better than sitting around at the Academy. We didn’t have much trouble convincing the Deathdealers to join us, though it was awkward explaining that Tara wouldn’t be coming along.
None of us had a lot of spending money except for Arlo, so we didn’t really do much shopping. We browsed around A–Z and Esther’s shop for a bit. Samuel had put out more gear in the Level 5 range, but with everything we’d bought last time – I pushed down the memory of Tara’s smile seeing me in the armor she’d bought me – we didn’t find anything that would be an upgrade worth the money.
The only thing we technically accomplished while in town was getting everyone a haircut, which we all needed after three months. Mine had gotten to a weird length on the right side, and I found myself happy to get it trimmed back nice and short. The unusual haircut I’d gotten from Kane had grown on me the last few months, and I’d decided that I really liked the distinctive look.
On the way back to the Academy we ran into a group of goblins, which attacked on sight and were slaughtered without anyone in our group taking a scratch. There had only been twenty of them against fourteen of us, and with their crude equipment, lack of Spells, and small size it was a slaughter. The Essence we got was minimal, divided among so many people.
With nothing better to do, I ended up back in my room practicing Slow and Fire. I was starting to realize another huge downside of Spells that you learned yourself – you needed to practice them regularly. My System-taught Spells worked almost like Skills – no matter how long I went without using them, they worked perfectly every time. It wasn’t too much of a burden to regularly practice two Spells, but if I kept learning more… It would become a problem for sure.
The next morning at breakfast, Jayce asked us if anyone had seen Tara. I looked at the cyborg in astonishment.
I buried my face in my hands as the rest of the team looked on awkwardly. No one knew what to say, and neither did I. Arlo hadn’t said it right out, but since he’d come straight to breakfast with the rest of us… If he’d seen Tara and we hadn’t she must have been in the trainees’ dorm last night. Which meant… well, I really didn’t want to think about that.
Unfortunately I didn’t have much chance to avoid it. When we left breakfast, we spotted Tara heading towards the restaurant. She had her arm wrapped around the waist of a girl I recognized as one of the veteran trainees. I remembered seeing her at the infirmary on a cot near Tara’s after the monster attack. FUCK! Identify.
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Name: Maya
Class: Sound Mage
Tier: 0
The other girl – Maya – was undeniably beautiful, with blue hair and more curves even than Tara. I hated her on sight. While Tara pointedly avoided looking at any of us, Maya shot me a wink that made my hands clench and caused G’hala to put a huge hand on my shoulder.
I think I hate the 4th of July. And Memorial Day. And fuck April Fool’s Day too. Wasted holidays fucking suck!
I was furious with everyone at that moment. Myself, Tara, and Maya, in no particular order. I could feel my stamina flowing and knew my eyes had to be flashing blue as Intimidation triggered. It seemed Maya’s higher Level and Stats let her resist it, because she just flipped me off where Tara couldn’t see it.
I ground my teeth in frustration. My usual trick of taking slow, deep breaths wasn’t helping this time. As I stared daggers after the new ‘couple’, G’hala dragged my attention back to her.
“Come,” she said. “Let’s go do some training.”
She practically hauled me off to the training hall, where she grabbed me a massive two-handed training mace and stationed me in front of one of the dummies. Twenty minutes later my arms and shoulders were burning and I felt slightly better. She sat with me silently as I panted, drank some water and stretched. Then she took me out into one of the sparring rings and started trying to give me some pointers on how to use the massive weapon.
“You need to adjust your grip like this,” she told me, demonstrating with her totem.
“G’hala, there’s no way I can use a weapon this heavy in a fight. Come on, let me just go and bash the dummy some more!”
“Only if you promise to bash it competently,” she retorted, and I stuck my tongue out at her.
“This isn’t about being competent! This is about being angry!”
“Only until you injure yourself and we have to go find one of the Healers.”
I groaned but relinquished the mace. Instead, I found a nice quarterstaff that was about the right size for me. Six feet long with a good heft to it, I went back to bashing the dummy. I was less incompetent with the staff, having had a little bit of training back in Sunland.
I still wasn’t good enough for orc standards, apparently, because G’hala insisted on making numerous corrections every time I paused to catch my breath. I did my best to pay attention, only because it was more satisfying the harder I hit the dummy. I definitely didn’t picture Maya’s smug face on it. At all.
[Congratulations, Gunner! You have learned the Skill Blunt Weapons! Did you know that your new Blunt Weapons Skill can even help you play baseball?! There’s still time this 4th of July weekend for you to enjoy America’s national pastime! Get it?! America’s PASTime?! Ha ha ha!]
I mentally gave PAST the finger, though I had to admit the stupid joke had almost made me smile. Once I’d recovered my stamina, I went back over to the training dummy. I paused, staff in hands, staring at it. I could switch to my cutlass, but there was something primally satisfying about swinging a big stick with two hands and just pounding the shit out of the hapless dummy.
I took a deep breath, adjusted my grip, and let loose. CRACK! The staff smashed into the dummy’s head, and I turned the rebound into a redirection, letting the staff reverse direction and circling it over my head to swing around from the other side. CRACK! I let everything around me fade away, my focus only on my imaginary opponent and the long, heavy weapon in my hands. My anger turned into fuel for each powerful strike. CRACK!
When I finally came back to my senses, I was drenched in sweat, out of breath, and my palms ached from the force of the rebounds. I looked over to see G’hala watching me intently, a wide grin on her face. Before I could say anything, PAST’s voice boomed in my head again.
[Well done, Citizen! You have reached Level 3 in Battle Focus and Level 1 in Blunt Weapons! A most productive day! Surely you have time to celebrate with an American tradition now?! While Miss Gleason may now be off-limits, there are still fireworks, baseball, hot dogs, and beer with which to – ]
“SHUT UP, PAST!” I growled. “NOT FUNNY!”
“That was Battle Focus, wasn’t it?” G’hala asked softly, interrupting my argument with PAST before it could get started. I looked over at the orc and saw her gazing at me with a hungry expression.
Fuck me, is she jealous?
“Yeah,” I replied curtly, not sure what to say. “I just got a Level in it and Blunt Weapons.”
After months together I counted G’hala and H’ruk both as good friends. That didn’t stop a shiver from going down my spine as the Shaman’s predatory grin widened to show her fangs.
“A worthy Skill,” she said, and I remembered her brother saying something similar.
She followed me as I made my way on wobbly legs to the seats, taking the staff from me and returning it to its place before coming to sit next to me.
“I’ve seen the way you fight,” I said after a few moments. “I’m surprised you don’t have it yourself.”
“It is not easily earned, Azure,” she replied. “It is a prized Skill among the Clan. To earn it, you must fight to the exclusion of all else, with no consideration for the risk to your life. Few can truly reach that state.”
I thought back to the horrifying ‘fights’ I’d had with Trite and shuddered. I was still ‘training’ with that monster every other weekend – Skills or not, I couldn’t bring myself to do it every week. Then a thought occurred to me.
“If you really want the Skill, why don’t you try training with Trite? I can’t imagine a better way to learn it without getting killed.”
The Shaman looked around, though we were alone in the training hall, before turning to me and speaking softly.
“If I did, and Thompson allowed it, my brother surely would as well.”
“Why is that a bad thing?” I asked, confused.
“I… should not say,” she told me, which of course just made me more curious.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I told her seriously. To my amusement, she made me take out and activate the privacy ward before she explained.
“Leadership among my people is not hereditary,” she explained. “Simply being the son of Korgarth does not guarantee my brother will become Chieftain, though it does carry weight with the elders. When I entered the Tutorial and saw my Class choices, I did not hesitate for a moment when I picked Shaman. It is a great honor among the Clan to hold this Class and I felt blessed to receive it.
“Azure, I was raised in a Clan where only Warriors have become Chieftains – only male Warriors. It was simply assumed in my family that H’ruk would follow our father’s path to become a great Warrior and rise to Chieftain in time. When I finished the Tutorial and reunited with my brother, I was shocked to learn he had not had the option to pick Warrior and instead been forced to become a Mage.
“His other Standard Class option was Merchant, which would have made him the brunt of jokes and distrust. When he asked me what my other Class option was, I told him it was Blacksmith.”
She looked at me intently and made me promise, again, to keep this conversation secret before she continued.
“That was a lie. My other Standard Class option was Warrior.”
My eyes widened in surprise as she went on.
“Since that day, H’ruk has been filled with the ambition to become the first Chieftain of the tribe to not be a Warrior from the start. He has received quiet support from those that favor our father. I, on the other hand, have had my own realization. If our next Chieftain is not a Warrior, why must they be a man!?”
Her dark eyes burned with passion as she spoke faster and louder with each sentence.
“Why not me?!” she asked, and I had no answer.