Legend of the Spellthief

Logan, Marcus, Amalia, and the VIP guild have been busy since the Yestar Tournament had ended. A good twelve days of cleaning up the books, assigning new quests, and handling the influx of people asking to sign on with the up-and-coming guild.

The displays shown by many of its members, especially its Guildmaster and one of its Sub-Leaders, meant that VIP was one of the most important talking points. A few people left their guilds in hopes of joining VIP, others had it as their first choice for home.

Garentaeous stuck to his word, affixing himself to the guild rather soon after the tournament’s end. Even Maira, Golden Death, joined the guild following her bout with Logan. Such a rush of new candidates concluded with the guild reaching the maximum capacity of fifty members. Logan’s request for teleportation access in the city’s barrier was exchanged for another long process of upgrading his guild licence for more members.

Alongside the increase of adventurer presence in the guild halls, quest and hunt requests made their way to the guild house more frequently. The sight of ooran birds or messengers from the different establishments was a common sight. Either called upon by name, or just association with the guild, VIP was abuzz with work.

Logan and Marcus didn’t spend all their time at the guild, however, the Spellthief was ever aware of the fact another quest could land in his lap at any time, and his gear needed to be ready. Marcus also rearmed himself and trained more in the ways of his new fighting style, being able to flourish it side-by-side with Logan on the battlefield.

Joining them sometimes was Amalia, the Guardian who had arrived a few months after Logan had done. With varied backgrounds, Logan could only guess that each Player Character, people from Earth, were picked from different locations of his home. With English, Irish, and German amongst him and his allies, with a Frenchman who died in the past.

Earth was home to many cultures, but were there enough for the fifty-plus Oracles, what Avanarians called PCs, to be from all different places? Logan wasn’t amazing at geography in the past, but he had a good enough grasp of Earth’s locales. Even though his intelligence was heightened with his attributes, it didn’t mean he just knew everything, he still needed to be taught.

Without the internet at hand, Logan had to learn the much slower way through reading and discussion. In doing so, the Spellthief found quite the opportunity for his usual trio. A quest that was to the south a ways, a road he had travelled in the past to reach the capital.

The thick forests of Avanar were loud and boisterous, conflict always present but rilled up further as a large hulking mass came stumbling through the thickets.

“Run! Hooman!” a large troll cried to three others.

Grabbing their clubs in an effort to leave better defended, the trolls didn’t get far. Marcus came flying through the canopies overhead and landed a solid downward heel kick into the fleeing troll. Flaming metal cut through the troll’s head, back, and rear, almost bisecting the monster vertically.

A massive slam of its body to the floor signalled the other three trolls to flee in horror faster. Marcus merely smirked at the notion, twisted his feet, and had columns of rock form under his soles. Propelled via magic, Marcus made sweeping punches at the trolls, removing large portions of their upper bodies and arms as he skated the air.

Landing in a slide, Marcus jabbed at the leg of the final troll, destroying its knee and separating the lower leg from the rest of the body. Cinders continued to roll off his metallic gauntlets, Infused by Logan previously to fight back against the troll regeneration.

Elsewhere in the forest, huge tree logs were slammed over and over into an impenetrable defence by Amalia. Her shield moved nary an inch from the beating, and the Guardian had an unimpressed expression.

“Celsius, hurry up would you?” she ordered.

“Yeah, yeah. I got this. Dont’cha worry!” Celsius replied, his flaming body flying towards the quartet of trolls accosting Amalia.

Flames emitted from the elemental’s arms, singeing the monsters’ flesh and causing them to squeal in pain. The fire was quickly followed by volleys of lightning, ice, water, and shadows from the treetops, Logan’s elementals lying in wait to deal out elemental might.

The trolls tried to bat away the projectiles, but there were too many, and the monsters had become frightened by the use of fire. Turning their attention away from Amalia only allowed the lady to slice out with her shortsword, severing the heels of the trolls and causing them to fall to the floor in large slumps.

“Their movements stop”, Umbra announced as they whispered to the floor.

“Dead”, Fahrenheit confirmed.

“Our master calls for fine work. Mayhaps this will satisfy that wish”, Spark added.

“Squealing pigs. They deserve further punishment. But, we must be quick”, Servoir admitted.

In a nearby part of the forest, five other trolls were running for dear life, tears rolling down their cheeks and bumbling bodies barging through branches.

“Run!” one cried in a wobbly voice.

“Mad Mage! Mad Mage!” another recited.

Accompanying their pleas of withdrawal, the singing of blades was heard. Hurtling straight through the air, two blazing daggers cut swathes in the cooler atmosphere. Swinging and swerving, the daggers cut into one of the trolls, pierced their body, and exploded out the other side as their hurried assault continued.

“No!” another troll cried as they looked back at the falling of their brother.

The slowest of the bunch tried batting at the blades with his tree trunk club, but the daggers instead floated around the attack with grace, punctured the troll’s wrist, and stitched back and forth up his arm. Blood painted a canvas over the green grass as the hulking mass hit it entirely.

Jumping between the canopies above, Logan hunted his prey like a hawk, quad eyes following their movements without issue. At his sides, almost in a chilled-out manner without difficulty, Logan twirled and motioned his fingers to direct his daggers via Telekinesis.

Another troll was brought down, and then another. The final monster hit the floor in a sliding decline, the grass being removed to make way for dirt.

With all his foes dealt with, Logan leapt from the branch he had perched upon and landed with grace on the floor. Standing up straight, he clicked his fingers and smirked at the return of no more adversaries in the vicinity.

Logan rolled his arms and cracked his neck as he rolled his eyes over the usual System window to alert him to changes.

“Level up! Gain: +1 Str, +2 Agi, +1 Con, +2 Int, +1 Wis, +1 Cha. You have 1 attribute point to spend.”

“Fol, you there?” Logan asked in his head.

“As always, Logan. I take it you want the additional point spent into Intelligence as always?” Logan’s personal System responded in its usual kind tone.

“You know it.”

“Done.”

A satisfying quiet ding was heard as Fol did as asked, raising Logan’s base Intelligence to 75, and 89 when adding in his trinket bonus.

“13 or so levels until you evolve again. You excited?” Logan asked in his mind as he moved to the troll corpses.

“Feverishly so. I cannot wait for the time I can better help you against our kidnappers.”

“Our?”

“Sorry, yours.”

“Just teasing, Fol. But we may want to bite our tongues if we ever do get an audience.”

“I shall… place administrative requirements on my tongue”, Fol replied with a laugh.

Logan spun his proficient carving knife in hand as it materialised from his coat, and dove it swiftly into the corpse of the troll. A few quick slices had Logan with quick access to the heart and its neighbouring violet sack. Cutting the violet nucleus, Logan gathered the blood into a vial for later.

Repeating this for all the bodies, the Spellthief eventually met up with his fellows, taking their trolls’ blood too. It took hardly a few seconds to get each one, Logan’s Harvesting skill cut the time required by 80%.

“I counted thirteen. That must be all of them”, Marcus calculated.

“Yes—” Amalia began.

“Yes boss, thirteen dead trolls ripe for the plucking!” Celsius interrupted.

Amalia sneered at Celsius, the flames of the elemental getting smaller as it accepted the scolding without question.

“Fowp will be glad to hear of it”, Logan replied.

“The village isn’t far, we’re to let them know before heading back to the capital?” Marcus asked.

“Yes.”

The group linked up after a short rest after the conflict, their gear getting cleaned to be much more presentable to villagers. Being covered in troll remains wasn’t exactly the best way to address those being accosted by them.

Logan dismissed his summons with a flick of his wrist, had Marcus and Amalia place their hands on his shoulders, and teleported into the sky.

One succinct Dimensional Jaunt later had the trio appear on the edge of Fowp, a small village that Logan and Marcus had aided against a group of forty or so goblins in the past.

The Rogue they had met earlier ran to them with an excited expression across their face, his armour much better than the last he was seen. “Logan, Marcus! You’ve returned quickly. All went well I take it?”

“That it did. They didn’t stand a chance!” Marcus admitted as he flexed his arm.

“Praise be to Desma.”

“Thirteen, right? We burnt them down, so they shouldn’t regenerate. As far as I was able to track there aren’t any others either. It seems they scared off a lot of the local monster population too, so be wary of travelling too far away, you might find large packs”, Logan instructed.

“Thank you for being so thorough. I’d not like to find any stragglers. I shall inform the others about the enemies in the vicinity. No doubt we will be petitioned into scouting missions again.”

An older gentleman approached the conversating youths, back crooked and cane in hand. “Sir Logan, you return.”

“With good tidings to boot. Your troll trouble has been dealt with.”

“Such hurried speed. You have a hundred thanks from our quaint village. Again, if I am not mistaken.”

“If there’s ever anything more you need, feel free to send word to Gauntlet and ask for us, or the VIP guild.”

“Now, now. I may be old, but I don’t need you spelling out your guild name”, the older man joked with a laugh.

“We hope you’ll all do better from here on out”, Amalia wished.

“And to you three, too”, the older gentleman replied.

“Good luck on your return trip”, the Rogue added.

Moving a bit away from the conversation, the trio then warped back into the sky for another hasty teleportation session.

Arriving in Gauntlet, straight to the doorstep of the VIP guild house, Logan, Marcus, and Amalia entered to many happy faces. The scent of lunch and drinks was billowing in the air, joined by happy conversations of the guildies.

It looked like many of the newcomers were still getting adjusted to their new rooms, or organising the influx of tomes added to the reading nook the guild had access to. As was advised, many of the mages who were all garbed in robes with staves nearby were making sure they knew most if not all of the micks on offer.

Force was a major power to have in the palm of your hand, even more so if they could quickcast it. Crossbows did the job most of the time, but magic could get around certain defences, until higher ranks. But at that point, the mick had served its purpose.

“Welcome home”, Advelt greeted as he handed mugs of water to the trio.

Many of the younger guildies joined in with welcoming arms and cheers, some even waving over the returning heads of the guild.

“Any messages?” Logan asked as he walked around the counter and took a seat.

Marcus and Amalia patted Logan on the shoulder as they moved to the sofas to talk with the other guildies. Logan could make out that they were recounting the newest fight against the trolls, while others were asking to get a taste of the regenerative blood.

“Yes, in fact”, Advelt started as he brought out a small envelope, “More work from the hunters association.”

“Never a day’s rest, ay?”

“I did inform Jirango that you’d be gone for a while, though you were so quick you’ve only missed him by a few hours.”

Logan flipped open the envelope and scanned the writing, “Another big payday awaits, it seems. And—”

Logan was quickly interrupted as he read over the envelope by another System window appearing. One that had been absent for quite some time.

“Side Quest

To Revive a Brother

Time Remaining: 15 Days

A Devout has sought the revival of his brother who was lost during a dungeon raid. Seething hatred has turned the man sour at the lack of revival magics available and has sought to tamper with magics unknown. Deal with the outcome of such actions, lest more lives be lost.

Reward: Skill mastery.

Failure: Several NPC deaths.

Additional Objectives:

Each additional objective completed by the time limit will grant further rewards.

Complete with no party members dying.

Complete with over 10 days remaining.

Allow the brother to attempt their revival ritual.

Apprehend the brother, alive.”

“—quite the unique offering of target”, Logan finished his sentence, pausing a few seconds more than what Advelt was expecting.

“Trouble, sir?”

“No. Just a surprising turn of events. Did Jirango say when he needed us to arrive?”

“Within the week.”

“Tomorrow will do just fine then.”

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