Legend of the Spellthief

It had been a week since Logan and Marcus had beaten the Frost Monarch’s Cavern. Both spent some rest and relaxation time at the inn to cure their sore bodies, as well as read up on new tomes they had acquired with their payment for a job done. Their life in luxury through coin ended quite quickly when the tome prices stacked up.

With two gold’s worth of silver sent to an old friend, Logan also had to count his pennies for what to spend. With the MT investigating the changes in the dungeon and the lack of the Ice King, Logan and Marcus were lying low as it were. No more dungeon runs, even after Logan had read up on the instructional books as he was ordered.

Logan created a new elemental to aid in his slower-level progression, an Aqua elemental he named Servoir, relating to a reservoir. The liquid body allowed it to seep through the gaps and cracks of doors and walls easier than his fellows. Even its elemental core was morphable, while Celsius, Fahrenheit, and Spark had more solid cores that would stop them from getting through such confines.

Servoir was the first elemental summon to be Wisdom-based when compared to his other summons who all used Intelligence for their casting. It didn’t have a higher starting value though, so it wouldn’t be much better than his brothers.

Marcus on the other hand read up on all the Signature Spell tomes the team had accrued to this point, selecting Heal as his Signature Spell. He had also purchased a tome for Power Thyself, which allowed his enhancing spells to improve himself more than others. It went well with the Self Empowerment skill Logan had unlocked for him back at the caverns.

Logan had spent the remainder of his time taking on hunts, to increase his mastery of Backstab. The skill allowed him to deal more damage, but MP Thievery now allowed him to steal even more spells for a day. Absorbing his summons’ spells, he went out to take down criminals near and far.

Marcus stayed in the capital, continuing his physical training. It had done wonders for his fighting skills, so much so he was able to take on monsters in close quarters as well as Logan would at his level. It also allowed the Devout to make use of his higher-than-average Strength more.

This proficiency solidified the theory that Logan had, about others being more competent than himself if his level increased so quickly that he couldn’t train his skills and styles. One such avenue that Marcus was wholly focusing on with his training.

Over in the training fields of the guards, surrounded by tall brick buildings, Marcus was standing with six guards surrounding him. Everyone was garbed in leather armour, the guards wielded wooden variants of spears and swords. Marcus had a staff and wooden dagger in his hands.

Panting, Marcus had sweat drip from his forehead to his cheek, to the sandy floor at his feet. Yellow turned to black as the battle ring was drenched in sweat and blood. A wave of grey energy flowed around Marcus as his enhancing magic had been at play, to keep him on pace with so many well-trained guards.

Rushing and Dashing towards the Devout, all six guards attacked in unison. Spears shot forwards as swords were swung overhead and from the sandy floors.

Swinging his right staff, Marcus parried a low strike with a sword and thrust his staff into the man’s stomach, winding him and sending him backwards with the staff. There were plenty of weapons to be found on the floor in time, so he didn’t need to hold too dearly onto what he had.

Backstepping, Marcus wrapped his empty right hand and arm around a spear coming from behind to grapple it, twist it, and send the guard behind him flying over his shoulder, hitting the ground heavily. Dust and sand shot up from the impact, sweat and blood darkening the area even worse.

Swiping upwards he deflected a shortsword and kicked downwards to hit another spear into the floor below. Striding up the shaft of the spear, Marcus kicked into the head of the spearwoman, and span into a heel drop in the swordsman’s head. Both fell to the floor with Marcus landing solidly on his back and kicking back up to his feet.

Two swords came at Marcus’s back in a crossing slash. Kicking a dropped sword into his right hand, Marcus spun around to block the two strikes with sword and dagger. The wood clanking continued to fill the battle with a dull sound, even with the energetic moves being thrown about.

Pushing back his attacks, Marcus spun the weapons in his hands as if to lose some of the tension.

An onlooking man in black chainmail aimed his hand at the two attackers, a grey light dashing across the air into them as they both glowed a similar grey to Marcus.

Enhanced, the two attackers followed their initial attack with flurries of sword slashes.

Faster than before, Marcus had to deflect blow after blow, the wood across his weapons starting to crack from repeated use.

Blocking to the left, blocking to the right. Marcus had to twist his head to and fro as the two enemies moved to his sides, making it harder to defend himself. Stepping back, Marcus had to plan his footwork so that he didn’t tumble over himself, or trip over his foes’ legs.

All Marcus could do was smile, a wide grin adorning his face as his opponents lost theirs.

Giving up his defence, he kicked off the floor towards his right foe, allowing the sword to clash into his shoulder. Dropping his dagger, Marcus wrapped his hand around his foe's sword arm, and wrapped his other hand as he dropped his sword around the back of the man’s neck.

Heaving upwards, Marcus lifted the man as if he were doing a more dangerous vertical suplex. Twisting his body, Marcus slid his foot across the floor as sand was kicked up, twirled his grip and threw the man at the other opponent.

Soaring through the air, the attack baffled the opponent, the one thrown yelling out. The man slammed with so much force into the other’s chest that it winded him greatly, and disorientated the one thrown.

Kicking up both his blades into his hands, Marcus jumped onto the two men and slammed them into their chests, halting at their gambeson.

Marcus stayed atop them for a while as he panted into the floor, a manly voice calling out.

“Alright, the fight is over.”

Marcus stood slowly, the grey aura around him exploding outwards weakly as it faded away, his hair falling to his face. Running a hand through his hair, Marcus helped the two men beneath him to their feet.

“What’s that now? Eight to one?” the left man said as he stood, rubbing his neck.

“Would have been two if the captain Enhanced you further”, Marcus replied with a chuckle.

“Arh. Why’d you have to throw him into me”, the right man said, rubbing his chest.

“Spur of the moment, I needed to take you both out.”

“How the below is a Devout keeping up with our strength?” one of the guards at the back asked rhetorically as they stood.

Walking to the side of the ring, Marcus deposited his weapons on a rack and walked to the one who had called the fight to a halt.

The man’s black chainmail hugged a set of dark-brown leather armour beneath, his knees and elbows holding plate mail protectors. Muddy brown eyes looked over the troops, a hand running through his short brown hair as the wind pushed it around.

“Seems you’ve become quite able at fighting multiple foes, Marcus”, the man observed.

“All thanks to your training, Captain Gaius”, Marcus replied as he wiped his face on a towel.

“From your tales amongst those under me, it would seem the monsters are also giving you quite the training outside the walls too.”

Drinking from a waterskin, Marcus replied, “That too, sir. I have been the favoured target of many, and more.”

“I noticed you’ve stuck with your ‘form three’, what about the fourth I saw you trying out before?” Gaius asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Still working out the movements and spellforce usage for that, sir. The books are quite extensive, so it’s taking time.”

“Why not train with that? If you’re having issues that is.”

“Forms one through three are more known to me. Four is a newcomer. I don’t want to leave my current styles behind whilst trying to work on something that’s unstable.”

“Staff, dagger, and dual-wield. I’ve seen many Devouts adapt to the same ways of fighting. You’re the first I’ve seen use that ‘four’ you’ve been testing.”

“I was suggested it by Reykeg, and he showed me the appropriate tomes to learn such.”

Gaius laughed, “Are you sure that bookkeeper wasn’t just trying to weasel the coin from your pouch?”

“I am. I can tell it’s going to be much stronger than what I got going right now. It’ll just take time to get adjusted. As well as requiring a few skills to back it up.”

“Maybe you’ll be able to take me down when it comes to that point”, Gaius replied teasingly.

Cracking his knuckles and neck, Marcus replied, “Want to test out how far it has come?”

Placing a hand on the hilt of his sword, Gaius said, “Oh, it seems the adrenaline reached your head.”

The two faced off with toothy grins, only to be interrupted by the shouting of an approaching woman, “Scythe! Monsters at the wall!”

All of the guards started to drop their training weapons, pick up nearby weapons, and run towards the wall. The training area was close to the walls, the Scythe regiment being designed to help the local vicinity of Gauntlet during attacks and invasions. Theirs was the first sent out to the surrounding settlements in the goblin invasion.

Darting their heads to the wall, Marcus and Gaius charged. Throwing out an arm to the Devout, Gaius warped into his centre with him in tow, blasting outwards at the top of the battlements.

Many guards jumped at the apparition, but ignored it when they saw a captain appearing with it. Marcus was a common sight too, having helped with and getting helped by the training sessions for the guards.

Looking over the wall, the pair saw a small band of four enraged orcs chasing down a running Devout. Blood trailed behind the running victim, which probably set the orcs on a rampage to finish their kill off and put meat back on the menu.

“Tend the wounded!” Gaius ordered as he gripped Marcus’s shoulder.

Warping to their centres again, the pair appeared in the air between the orcs and the Devout. Marcus landed and ran beside the Devout, placing a hand on their back as he healed them.

Grabbing his blade handle, Gaius drew it lightning-quick, severing the head of the first orc, it then let off a red mist as he cleaved into the next.

Two 7’ masses of green muscle landed on the floor, the two behind them sweating in fear at seeing their fellows felled in a single swing each. The glow in their red eyes dimmed as the rage left them.

“Pigs to the slaughter”, Gaius spat as he twirled his blade.

The orcs took a step back, one of them swinging their large curved sword widely at the captain. Gaius’s blade spun and collided with the orc’s, before the following slashes went through its arm and then through its head, severing it diagonally. The snout of the dead orc spewed a river of blood and snot.

Darting his right hand off his weapon and into his left, Gaius skipped forwards and grappled the wrist of the last orc, twisting it and disarming the foe before its attack could connect. Dragging the arm he made a large opening, slashed upwards and then drove the blade into its chest, the red eyes dimming further to white as it fell to the floor.

Spinning the blade, Gaius flicked the blood from it and sheathed. Holding up his fingers he drew a bell from his belt and rang it. A few seconds passed before he turned to return to Marcus.

“Aev? You ok?” Marcus asked the man in blood-soaked clothing.

“Yes, thank you.”

“You know this man?” Gaius asked as he approached, his head scanning the trees in the distance.

“Yeah, we were in the same church in Tinte.”

“Were these orcs in a large band?”

“No, sir, they were looting a fallen adventuring party on the road.”

“His wounds weren’t that bad, but orcs could have killed him in another swing”, Marcus informed as he stood straight.

“I got cut twice but was able to Heal myself before I got there. I have no spellforce left, so I was lucky you two were close.”

Several guards rushed to the situation, a good two hundred feet from the gates.

“You four, search south, you four, search west. Check a half-mile and then return”, Gaius ordered, the guards saluting and moving out.

“You didn’t lose anything in the attack, did you?” Marcus asked.

“No”, Aev responded as he looked to his side and patted his satchel, “I got everything.”

“What brings you to Gauntlet? Aside from bringing monsters to our door?” Gaius asked.

The man looked at Marcus, sweat across his face, “A letter for aid, but…”

“Tinte require forces? Goblin leftovers?” Gaius asked.

“No. Medical reasons. But we didn’t want to worry Marcus”, Aev continued, not wanting to lie to Gaius.

“Well, I’m here. Might as well tell me now. I could be of help.”

“Not unless you got a lot of coin handy.”

“What?”

Aev was reluctant, but pulled out his letter and handed it to Marcus.

“Something you can help with?” Gaius asked, looking over Marcus’s shoulder.

“Supply shortage? The recent war and skirmishes must have eaten them all up. But this talks about interior damage and injuries to Marta.”

“She… she took a major hit, it destroyed most of her stomach. She’s barely hanging on with normal magical healing.”

“So, regeneration is required”, Marcus replied as he furled up the parchment.

“Internal, yes. We can’t open her up to get at what needs regeneration, and we have nowhere near the experience to be able to use the spells without the reagents.”

“That is quite expensive, three hours of constant medical attention, magic, and reagents”, Gaius calculated.

“She’d have to die”, Marcus spoke without emotion.

“We’ve nowhere near the ten gold to throw at something like that. Let alone the people to enact it.”

“You were looking for a handout?” Gaius asked.

“No, an exchange of services.”

“That’d be quite some time, and Tinte would falter for it”, Marcus announced.

“We’re low on Devouts as it is”, Aev mentioned.

“Were the losses heavy from the war?”

“Yeah, we’re down to five at the church.”

“Marcus, I doubt our churches have finished their recovery from the war either, let alone recent events and what is coming about from the Ice King”, Gaius informed.

“Yeah, they’ll want to be safe. One Devout might not be worth their risk for a loan.”

“What? So Marta will just die?”

“No”, Marcus said quickly, “Logan and I can foot the cost. But we won’t have to if we can grant her an innate regeneration. She will live. Tinte had issues with trolls before.”

“We did, but no word since”, Aev replied a bit bemused.

“I am friends with a ‘seer’, we could find some more.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow, “That your hunter friend? The one who didn’t need our training?”

“That he is. I wonder where Logan is now...”

As the three talked while moving into Gauntlet, they passed by a small grouping of adventurers putting their weapons away, no longer needing to engage in the fight.

Amongst the crowds was a man completely covered in a brown cloak, except for their eyes. Bright blue eyes hugged by black sclera.

Pulling a hand from their cloak, tufts of smoke came with it as the man adjusted wraps around his arms. Clutched in his hand was a golden pocketwatch, flipping open the lid revealed a black gem, white symbols flowing across its surface.

Green light flew from the man’s eyes into the gem, the number eleven appearing on its surface prominently.

“That progression… This is the Devout”, the man spoke under his breath as he hid the watch back under his cloak.

One of the adventurers looked at the cloaked man and spoke to him, “Hey, client, you good? Sun too harsh?”

“I am fine. Those orcs were close to our entering phase”, the cloaked man replied with his fangs showing.

Another of the adventurers spoke, “Not too far to the Gerro Guardhouse, we’ll get you some shade then.”

The female Rogue of the group spoke lastly, “Hope you find better hunters in this place for your contract.”

“I believe I will”, the cloaked man replied with a toothy-fanged grin, “There’s many an interesting being here”, he continued as he looked at the departing Marcus.

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