World Witout Wizards: Guard

In our world, there were two moons—a big one and a small one. They differed in the size and intensity of radiance. One was small and very bright, the other large and dim. They rose and fell over the horizon at different times.

When I came to the village, the big moon was lonely shining in the sky. Soon this night light would fade away, giving way to the sun. Summer nights were too short. That was my advantage today. I noticed the smoke of the fire an hour ago. A dense black pillar spread over the forest like an endless cloud. The smell of soot was everywhere, as well as the nasty odor of roasted meat. I couldn't seem to get it out of my head.

Perception Check

Base 0

Bonus + 1

Dice Roll 2

Requirement 4

Failure

Something was moving in the bushes by the path, but I couldn't tell what it was. Remembering my last skirmish with the bandits on the road, I took out my sword. I stood for a long time peering into the darkness and listening attentively, but I didn't see anything.

I walked into the village holding the sword. The houses between the river and the forest remained almost undisturbed. The rest of the village had been completely destroyed. As if a fire tornado had gone through the village. A tall wooden fence guarding the settlement had been smashed and partly scorched. The watchtower was deformed as if it hadn't been built of strong pines but of thin twigs. The farther I moved into the village, the more terrified I became. There were no survivors.

At first, there was no one among the destroyed buildings. Then I saw the hacked corpses of the militia; they lay in heaps. Two warriors seemed to be ripped open, six were hacked apart; their wooden and leather armor hadn't protected them.

Then I saw the body of a Black guard. The giant in full plate armor looked as if he was hit by a heavy blacksmith's sledgehammer. His shield was lying at some distance. His sword was broken. But these dents in his armor didn't seem to come from what killed him. On the b.r.e.a.s.tplate of the armor, there were several neat, perfectly round holes, as if someone had hammered nails into it. I knew that these marks couldn't have been left by arrows or crossbows; otherwise there would be splinters nearby.

It looked like the soldiers were hit by something invisible. Apparently, this was magic. Then I saw the villagers' bodies. The men generally met their death with axes in their hands—it was the weapon that everyone had at home. I didn't notice any bodies of the attackers. I knew everyone there. There weren't many bodies of women and children. Maybe they were taken as slaves.

Luck Check

Base 0

Bonus +1

Dice Roll 2

Requirement 4

Success

Looking around, I tripped and stumbled. I tripped over the body of a strange man, whom I'd never met before. His clothes were made of the usual fabric, but he had a thick leather sleeveless jacket. I was stunned with his extremely pale skin. It wasn't gray like the warlock's or dwarf's. He seemed to have been s.u.c.k.e.d dry.

Intelligence Check

Base 0

Bonus + 1

Dice Roll 1

Requirement 3

Failure

I couldn't explain what had happened. I wished I had Lysandra with me, she could surely tell what it was. This pale warrior had an unusual pendant in the form of a circle with a line in the middle. Something told me I need to pick it up and save it. I looked around, trying to find my way.

The sun had already risen over the edge of the forest, and a terrible sight emerged before my eyes. All the way to the center of the village there were bodies— burned, slaughtered, with arrows sticking out of their backs. In Central Square, where the statue of the Eternal Guard had stood once, Oulsast Dark, or rather what was left of him, was sitting with his back against a boulder. His left arm and lower torso were missing. Dark, almost black blood flooded the pedestal and soaked into the ground. His c.h.e.s.t was riddled with arrows and strange holes. But he was still alive.

"K-h-h," he hissed. I bent down to the dying warlock to listen to him.

"Let me give you a health potion! I have some."

"N-no, don't help me. My soul is going to another world."

"Who was that? Orcs? Bandits?"

"The cultists. The tribe of the sleeping God. They crave the return of their dead master. If you see any survivors—run."

"Where are my mother and father?"

"I don't know. There were blood mages among the attackers and shooters with guns. You won't be able to beat them. It's impossible to repel their attack."

Intelligence Check

Base 0

Bonus + 1

Dice Roll 4

Requirement 1

Great Success

Despite Oulsast's words, I took two flasks: the first one—with the potion of full recovery and the second one—with health potion and poured the both liquids into his mouth. The chief twisted because of unbearable pain. I wished such bright ideas occurred to me more often. I might have guessed it was pointless to listen to a dying man.

I couldn't get him to stand up, but I put his guts back inside and was able to help Oulsast live longer and explain everything.

"Son of a bitch," the warlock m.o.a.n.e.d a minute later, much more confidently, "Do you want me to suffer longer by staying in this world?"

"No, don't you want to revenge on those who did it? The more I know, the more likely I am to kill these bastards."

"Well," he spat out blood, "There's a lot of them. Too much for you or anyone else. Even if the Baron's squad was here, they couldn't have done anything. But they didn't expect me and didn't know what I could do. As long as I live, the GUARD will be under control. They can't get to the altar, neither can I. For letting me live longer, which means killing more of these jerks, give me your hand."

Confused by what he said, I stretched out my right hand. The warlock grabbed it like a drowning man. For a few seconds, nothing happened...

"I, Oulsast Dark, the chief of the half-bloods village, freely and voluntarily…" he uttered each phrase with great difficulty, "give the weaver to Michael Greystle. Without the right of refusal and transfer to others. For an everlasting possession." He barely whispered the last words but didn't release my hand.

Something like a mix between a spider and centipede crawled out of his robes. I tried to pull my hand back, but the creature got to my wrist, and then, moving quickly, went under the armor and penetrated my skin. It hurt like hell! It felt like I was being chewed alive!

Without a moment's hesitation, I began to pull down the cauters and throw off the rest of the armor. I managed to do it with great difficulty. Then I pulled up my sleeve and stared at my own forearm in disbelief. The insect was there. It had penetrated under my skin and buried its hundred legs into my flesh and bones, with only the end of its abdomen or head sticking out.

Magic weaver is obtained

Initiation of the weaving

Check available training

Absence of available development programs

Mismatch of the selected class

Verification of skills

Found: 1

Magic weaving is available: small spider