Battleforged
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Chapter 45 - An Archer's Path
🕑 Added 2022-05-09 08:28:53 +0000 UTCEric pretended he didn’t see the tear in the man’s eyes, the look of desperation quickly hidden behind the mask of good-natured tough guy bemusement that seemed to be the common stance taken by so many of the survivors calling Junk Town their own. He just accepted the man's silent handshake, surprised the guy seemed too choked up even to speak, and even Drake could sense the moment, patting the shorter man on the shoulder. "Our Eric's one of the good ones. I'm glad Morlekai brought him on board." He turned to Eric. "Come on, my man, let's go see Velvet. Hell, the way Morlekai's acting, I might as well get some archery tips myself."
Eric laughed at that. “Or at least crossbows. Honestly, that’s a fantastic and practical place to start. Historically, that took just weeks to get the hang of, whereas quality archers took… never mind.” Eric could tell his friend was fading fast. “Let’s head on back.”
Eric smiled at the sight the shopkeeper decked out in leathers with a classic 3-fingered shooter's stance, drawing the bow by raising it high above his head before lowering his arms in tandem, allowing the drop and torque of his arms to help with the pull and putting the back muscles into play, holding his stance for a count to three, fingers at mid-cheek before he released the string, and Eric couldn't help but be impressed by Velvet’s smooth form as the arrow streaked through the air, hitting the target dead center.
Only then did he turn to face Eric and Drake.
“My man!” Drake enthused. “I definitely need to take lessons from you, one day soon!”
Eric couldn’t help nodding, pretty sure he could learn a thing or two, despite his Journeyman status.
“Good to see you, boys!” Velvet said with a grin. “Can I interest you lads in a new bow?”
Eric couldn’t help smiling at the man’s mercantile instincts, but was more certain than ever that he had come to the right place. He had known already that the man was skilled. But it took seeing Velvet in his element with a Journeyman’s skills that allowed Eric to appreciate the way Velvet shifted his stance, held his tool, flowed through his movements, even looked at the world.
Velvet was a bowman, through and through.
"Are you sure you're not secretly an archer combat class?" Eric couldn't help but ask, a grin tugging on the corner of his lips that turned to a look of surprise when Velvet blanched at the very suggestion. "Not that it's any of my business, mind you," he said. "Actually I was hoping you could help me fine-tune my crossbow's sights, just to make sure they're as close to sniper perfect as I can make them, and hell… as long as I'm here, maybe help me get ahold of some extra long arrows and, well, crossbow bolts, perhaps?"
Velvet’s momentary look of surprise turned to a puzzled frown. “Of course I’m more than happy to help you sight your previous purchases for a nominal fee...”
“Lizard stakes?”
The man sighed but nodded. “Fair enough. And considering you’re half the reason why we’re eating at all, food provided gratis, I suppose I should extend the same courtesy as well.”
Eric couldn’t help grinning at that. “Thank you! Much appreciated.”
"But the arrows and quarrels will cost you," Velvet said with a mock frown.
Eric nodded. “Of course.” Then his breath caught in his throat as his eyes absently flicked over the bows Velvet was presently inspecting and shooting. What had been just a wandering look during his negotiations turned to a wide-eyed stare of bemused disbelief as he caught sight of a most unlikely bow in the middle of the collection of composite longbows Jeffrey had made.
And the shopkeeper wouldn't be any kind of professional if he hadn't instantly caught on to Eric's fascinated gaze. "See something you like?" he said, voice so mild Eric just knew he was in trouble if he showed any more interest than he already had.
So he settled for honesty while revealing as little as he could. “Those are some interesting looking bows. That one in the middle looks like it would be awesome as a prop for a necromancer.”
Velvet blinked. “What? Oh! This thing?” From a pile of compound bows made with everything from plexiglass and aluminum to yew and ashwood, even incorporating what looked like some of the cavern vines Eric had seen during his travels the other day, he had never seen a bow, or even imagined a bow outside World of Warblades 2.0, made completely of bone, tendon, and sinew.
It both sickened and fascinated him.
And the longer he gazed at the thing in Velvet’s hands, the hungrier he was to try it out himself.
Velvet chuckled ruefully. “I’ll be honest, Eric, I took a gamble purchasing it from the adventurers who stumbled in here the other day. One of them looked deathly ill, in need of healer, or at least a safe place to rest and recover. And since Din won’t rent out for free, even if people are building new houses all the time, well, let’s just say I purchased it for more town credits than it was probably worth.” He gave a rueful chuckle. “Everything else I sell now is made by our hunter friend or another pair that are determined to dare the pods and take on a crafting commission. But between you and me, Alex… I wouldn’t get it. Or advise anyone to. The draw weight is so great you’d have to be a monster to get even 28 inches, and the composite material, exotic as it is, has very little spring.”
His expression brightened. “It does have an interesting story, though.”
Eric grinned, intrigued. “Really? This I have to hear.”
Velvet’s gaze grew thoughtful. “Well, as you probably know, these tunnels are most definitely a lot more than the sewers and aquifers, or just long-forgotten plans for development under the city, perhaps a slush-fund bomb shelter complex from the 60s or 70s that never really got off the ground. You know that, right?”
Eric and Drake exchanged smiles. “We kind of guessed it, yes.”
“Of course you have. What am I saying? You’re a band of adventurers, for all intents and purposes, as well as being our town’s… Ahem… benefactors. Anyway, point is, very occasionally, honest to goodness adventurers will stumble into our town. Adventurers who arrived here by other means than nearly getting killed, traipsing through the city over our heads… I think? In what is now most definitely orc territory.”
Eric blinked at that. "Yeah, I was curious about that. Are we actually under the city or miles away, or somehow at right angles to all known directions on the compass?"
Drake shrugged. "I don't think anyone knows for sure. But Morlekai will definitely want to speak to these cats later, especially if they know other paths through the tunnels, and the safer, the better."
"Well, you can find them in the rooms Din now rents over his tavern. Though maybe I should be calling it a proper adventurer's inn now, ha ha. Anyway, it seems that they stumbled upon some bizarre-looking crypt while they were exploring."
Eric blinked at this. “You mean like a sealed tomb?”
Velvet solemnly shook his head. “I mean like an entire underground city of obsidian buildings long abandoned, save for skeletal sentinels that didn’t move an inch… save for their hotly glowing eyes. Just faint screams, howls and cackles, always in the far-off distance. Yet whenever they turned towards the direction it came from, all they saw was a pulsating orb surrounded by shadow spirits that twisted and morphed in the air."
Velvet lowered his voice. "And get this. They saw the same orb beside the same obsidian monoliths, no matter what direction they turned their heads! All the buildings somehow flowing in a direction that was neither left nor right, but always straight ahead." The archer paled, shaking his head. "Do you get what I'm saying? No matter what direction they turned, the orb was always in front of them."
Eric whistled. “Shit. It’s like they somehow slipped past some arcane event horizon.”
Velvet nodded. "Then the poor bastards started hearing whispers. Whispers that sent the magic-user in their band screaming as they wormed into her brain. Or that's what they told me, anyway."
Eric felt a shiver with those words. “Wow. That sounds like some seriously high level shit.”
Drake blanched and stepped back with a firm shake of his head. “Nope. Sure as fuck, that’s not for me. No place I want to run into, any time soon.”
Velvet chuckled softly. “Our guests wholeheartedly agreed. Only to find themselves coming inexorably closer to that pulsating orb, no matter what direction they turned. And the more desperately they raced, the deeper Panic’s claws burrowed into their psyches, the faster their spiral into oblivion became. Until one of them somehow managed to trigger a trap door out of nowhere. I halfway think it was some sort of bizarre emergency class skill. Then before you know it, all of them are screaming, hurtling down a shoot into a room absolutely filled with priceless artifacts and gold.”
Drake’s eyes widened. “Did you say gold?”
Velvet’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Only difference was, in this room, the skeletal guardians didn’t just stare at the intruders with their glowing eyes. And this bow is the prize our would-be heroes got, after fighting for their lives."
The man gave a rueful chuckle. "They didn't even think to grab the gold! Just fleeing down musty corridors in such panic that they actually managed to get so deep into the maze of tunnels that they finally found the center, which was empty of everything save for the handful of skeletal guardians waiting for them, and a steel grill covering a drop into rapids."
Eric whistled, not sure if Velvet was spinning bullshit or not, but certainly enjoying the story.
"It was clearly a deathtrap," Velvet continued, "yet by some miracle, the moisture, or the humidity, or something caused the rusted steel to collapse under their feet as the skeletal warriors jumped them in unison. And by the time they got their bearings after surviving the drop and the swim and dragging themselves to shore once more… they had lost half their number, all sense of where they were, and had gained only a few bone prizes for all their troubles."
Velvet held Eric’s gaze for long seconds. “Prizes they don’t even recall grabbing or claiming, desperate just to avoid drowning.” He turned to the bow with a mixture of fascination and distaste. "I'll be honest, Eric. I'm not intending on selling this bow, or even bringing it back inside the shop. I refuse to even touch it with my naked hands." He gave a tired sigh. "As fascinating as I found the story behind it, the second the adventurers left, I regretted not telling them to take the bow with them. Because it gives me a serious case of the creeps."
He chuckled ruefully, shaking his head. “And that I’m even telling this to a potential customer shows you just how much even having this thing around the shop is throwing me off my game.”
Drake gazed thoughtfully at the shopkeeper. "They should be milking this story for all its worth in the bar. I know they'd be getting free drinks like anything. My girls would love this horror shit. So why the hell haven't I heard this tale before right now?
Velvet gave a bemused shake of his head. "Your guess is as good as mine."
Eric grinned, now more eager than ever to claim the thing. “The bow definitely has a creepy story attached to it, and I can certainly see why you don’t want anything further to do with it. So how about I take it off your hands?”
And Eric was more surprised than he should be when a grimacing Velvet pulled out an odd-looking quiver with a piece of cloth that he had wedged right between the dirt and the cavern wall, as if hoping it would lie there forgotten forever, until it eventually became just another mound in the ground. "If you're serious, I suppose you'll be wanting these. A quiver of… guess how many arrows?"
Eric smirked. “Thirteen? And let me guess, they’re all of bone?”
Velvet nodded, his bemused expression turning grim. “You sure you want this bow, Eric?”
Eric nodded. “I do. Because I can always use some more cool-looking artifacts with epic backstories, no matter how twisted or scary, to hang up on my wall. How much?”
Velvet blinked. “Are you serious?”
“Sure. A bone bow. How awesome is that? Who cares if I can even shoot it? It looks pretty damned badass if you don’t mind the creepy vibe, and isn’t that what really matters?”
This earned a snort. “Sure, Eric. If you want it as a wall deco, who the fuck am I to say no?"
Eric grinned. “Sweet. How much?”
Velvet snorted. “Just take it off my hands and out of my shop, and I’ll call us square.”
"Well in that case, consider this a gift," Eric said, handing a surprised Velvet ten pounds of lizard steaks wrapped surprisingly neatly in the creature's own membrane, serving the same function as butcher block paper used to, once upon a time.
Velvet smiled, looking genuinely touched. “Thanks, Eric. I’ll get this smoked ASAP." He turned to the store. "Sammy! Get your butt up here!"
Within seconds his brother-in-law limped his way inside, by this point well skilled in using his bardiche as a cane, scratching his beard. “What’s up, bro?”
Velvet handed over the meat. "Give this to Din at the tavern to smoke. He can take his standard cut, but don’t forget to ask him if those adventurers are still around. If so, let them know that there’s silver to be made, if they’re willing to share maps with some of our own.”
Fat Sam nodded politely, flashing Eric a quick grin as he took the package.
“No problem, boss. I’ll be back in a jiff.”
“Take your time, but don’t trip on your ass like you did last week.”
His brother-in-law winced at that, stealing a quick look Eric’s way. “Ha, ha. Such a kidder, boss.”
Velvet just smiled as his brother-in-law clumped back into the shop with the meat, stronger than he looked, even with his limp.
Velvet dipped his head, suppressing a grimace as he handed Eric the bone bow and arrows.
“Thank you, Velvet. I really appreciate it," Eric said. Just knowing he had made the right choice the moment his fingers caressed the surprisingly comfortable and intricately detailed bone grip, not even minding how the merchant paled and stepped back with a relieved sigh.
Eric couldn’t quite suppress the surge of excitement he felt welling up in his heart.
If things worked out the way he hoped they would… He quickly shook the thought away, getting his head back in the game. He could worry about his new toy later. For now? Best to proceed as if he had never seen that bow at all.
“Got your new curio secured? Good. You had mentioned needing some specialized ammunition, right? Perhaps it would help if you’d tell me what the intended purpose of these extra long arrows and quarrels are for?”
Eric winked. “Keep it a secret?”
The man solemnly held up his hand. “Merchant’s Oath.”
Eric laughed. “Good enough for me.” He then proceeded to inform the shopkeeper of exactly why he needed those extra-long arrows, and what he intended to do with them, the man's eyes growing increasingly wide by the time Eric was finished, before abruptly laughing and shaking his head. "Oh that's a good one, Eric. You almost had me there for a moment."
Eric flashed an ice-cold smile. "How much do you hate those orcs, Velvet?"
The man’s bemused gaze instantly hardened. “More than you could possibly imagine.”
Eric gazed into the man’s intent brown eyes before giving a solemn nod. “Good. Watch this.”
And pausing only enough to slip on warded gloves, Eric went to the end of the range, pulled out several items he had stored, ignoring Velvet’s startled yelp, and went back to the end of the shooting range.
“Eric, what the hell is that thing?” He said, pointing the massive rampart of lizard hide and bone, filled to the brim with meat Eric was now dead certain would never spoil, even if it was no longer fit for consumption. Eric had placed it at an odd angle so it would fit in the fifteen-foot wide alley behind the adjoining stores, though thankfully it was more than long enough for shooting and sighting. Then he placed the crumpled body of one of the orcs against the undead wall before making his way back to a wide-eyed Velvet.
The man’s words of protest immediately cut off when Eric summoned his yew longbow, now the brilliant hue of freshly spilled arterial blood, drawing it to full length as he slowly, carefully, infused the essence of his Wrath into limbs and weapon alike, the hatred he felt boiling over upon catching sight of the dead orc was all he needed to catalyze his flames of hatred like never before.
“Eric, you shouldn’t draw your bow like that without an arrow,” the man whispered, before lurching back with a cry when the corridor was suddenly lit up by a blinding fluorescent white-hot light, bright enough to scald a man’s skin, or perhaps even blind someone at such close range, who didn’t have an adventurer’s gifts, or 20+ Vitality. A thought that occurred to Eric only after he had released the arrow a split second after summoning it, and he was glad that Velvets cry and angry curse had died off, no harm done, it seemed, when the man gazed with no small amount of awe at the target that had been struck in the abdomen by the miniature sun.
The arrow had plunged through the chain mail hauberk like a fist through butter, exploding through the links as the blinding light was replaced by a bright red glow from the corpse suddenly bloating as its abdomen began to bulge against its chain mail shirt before abruptly bursting, filling the air with the smell of sweet roasted sausage and steaming entrails that soon turned to the stink of charred meat, the chain links turning from cherry-red to bright orange near the entrance hole as the remains of the ruptured body caved in on itself, soon little more than a pile of furiously burning flesh.
Because unlike any other 4000-degree arrowhead, the Essence of Flame it had been imbued with seemed to have endless energy to give. Though Eric was almost certain there was a matter to energy conversion ratio going on somewhere, he was also certain that it was closer to a hypothetical cleanly burning plutonium rod in terms of longevity, than say, a quickly extinguished candle. In other words, that arrowhead, or at least, the blood on that arrowhead, would probably be burning for a very, very long time.
But since Eric didn’t actually want to stink up the whole cavern with the now fiercely hot blaze, or destroy his own rampart, he quickly reclaimed the soul-linked arrow with a thought before walking over to retrieve both the bulwark, and the merrily blazing remains of the orc.
And the whole time Velvet was shaking his sweat-covered head, gazing at him in open-mouthed wonder. Eric frowned.
It looked like the man was actually, literally, shaking in his boots.
“Eric?”
“What’s up?”
“How the hell did you do that?”
Eric grinned. “Magic.”
The archer turned shopkeeper rolled his eyes. “Clearly.”
Eric then winced at his suit cuff. “Damn, that’s not coming out.”
“Come on, buddy. Don’t be fuckin’ up your clothes ten minutes after getting them!” Drake scolded. “Still, that’s a damn sweet fire arrow of death you got there!”
Eric grinned, “I know, right? Problem is, I have to blink in the arrow just before I use it, and I’m forced to shoot blind the instant after I line up my target. That, I can learn to deal with and compensate for. But the problem is that even with my, well, wards, the arrow’s just too hot to fully draw, even after enhancing the bow. Not without taking drastic steps that will leave my face rather… messy looking. Not to mention cause any non-warded attire I’m wearing to risk bursting into flame. And I don’t dare try to make it any hotter. So, here’s my thought: 42 inch shafts, so a 30 inch draw still gives me a full foot of distance between the center of my bow and an arrowhead so brilliant it can now melt steel. Quickly.”
Velvet gazed at Eric for long moments. “You’re thinking of using that for your crossbows as well, aren’t you?”
Eric winced at the look the man was giving him. “Um… maybe?”
Velvet sighed and shook his head. “I sure as hell wouldn’t recommend it. But if you were going to try something that crazy… sure as shit, you'll need longer quarrels. Which will have to be made of wood or bone, and will shoot a bit slower than the ones you should still have a fuck-ton of."
Eric smiled. “Indeed I do.”
“Good. The advantage of heavier custom-made quarrels is that they will have more kinetic energy and often times will penetrate your target quite a bit deeper than a quicker, lighter quarrel. This is where the recurves tend to shine over the reverse draws. Of course, we're making your bolts longer, not denser, and then we might have to worry about them wobbling just a bit like a bow's arrows, so, we'll see." He frowned thoughtfully. "I'll tell you what. I'll talk to Jeffrey and our friend John Smith the smith, and see if we can't come up with something in the next day or so."
Eric flashed a relieved smile. "Great. I was hoping we could prioritize it."
Velvet nodded. “Of course the boys and I might be wanting something a bit more substantial than meat, lovely as that is, for a rushed, specialized order, especially with our smith friend being as busy as he is.”
Eric nodded. “And I certainly don’t want to slow down the assignment he’s currently working on, either.”
“Damn right you don’t,” a bemused Drake concurred, before whistling at the crudely stamped silver coins Eric pulled out.
"How much?"
Velvet’s eyes bulged, before he shook his head with a rueful chuckle. “Sometimes I forget that you actually carry something of value besides meat and animal parts.” The man frowned thoughtfully. “We’ll fletch a good double handful of various sizes and weights… for both your long bow and your crossbows. Crossbows which we’ll fine-tune right now, by shooting the different gram weight crossbow bolts I still have, and getting a sense of what each model is capable of, for an ideal weight, speed, penetration power chart. By the time we're done, we'll know just the weight suited for… hunting with each of your bows."
Eric grinned. "Sounds good! I'm definitely planning on doing some serious hunting, very soon."
“So, what do you say to… six silver in all?”
Drake whistled. “I take it we’re making our man here a fuck ton of quality quarrels, then,” he said with a smile that was half-warning.
Velvet nodded. “Of course.”
Eric grinned, not even bothering to haggle, slapping down six silvers into the man’s hand. “Deal.”
Velvet frowned, peering carefully at the coins. "Where did you..." then he blanched, gazing in the direction of the still-smoking pile of greasy ash where the orc corpse had been, just minutes ago. "Oh."
Eric’s smile widened. “Glad I’m putting that bastard’s coins to good use.”
This earned a dry chuckle. “And I’m guessing if any orc knows where these came from...”
“Good thing none of us are trucking with orcs then, right?” said Eric with a certain hard glint to his eyes.
Velvet jerked a nervous nod. "Damn right. Still, best if we get these melted sooner than later. Ah well, you didn't even haggle, so that's my problem, not yours. Now let's dial in those crossbows of yours, shall we?”
A nodding Eric was happy to do just that, and he couldn’t help but smile with a certain amount of pride when Velvet seemed startled to see the crossbows in such good condition, though he did puzzle over the final handful. “The only ones that look to be in less than stellar shape are ones I never sold you."
Eric nodded. “True.”
“So, where did you...” then he grimaced and shook his head. “Perhaps it’s for the best that I don’t know.”
Eric smiled but said nothing, and in a surprisingly short period of time, all his crossbows were in as pristine condition as the day he and Velvet had first inspected them. Which filled Eric with a sense of fierce satisfaction and more than a bit of trepidation as he and Drake made their way back home.
“Looking sharp, and that was one sweet maneuver I saw you pull, Eric. Hell, you’re now more accurate than Velvet!” Drake congratulated as they returned to the compound, and Eric couldn’t help but be pleased by the compliment. “So, I’m about ready to head off for some company. Want to join?”
Eric blinked, startled by the offer, and Drake laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. Susie made it clear she thought you looked damn fine last night, the way your muscles popped, and the scars just make you look rugged, as far as she’s concerned. Especially with the boyish charm just underneath the gaze of a hunter, as she put it.”
Eric gave an embarrassed chuckle. In truth, he had found it a bit odd that one of Eric’s girlfriends had seemed to enjoy talking him up last night, after having come to terms with the fact that his earlier life was gone for good, after suffering through more than one girl’s smile turning to a wince of discomfort when Eric dared chat too long, or forget himself and mistake kindness for interest, the very few times he went to the town for a drink, or just to socialize, during the first few days of his arrival.
Since then, he had pretty much isolated himself, save for daily meat donations, determined to improve himself with such dedication that he was too tired even to think about the bitter cost to his own ascension, whenever it was time to crash, multiple times per day.
But to find out that one of the girls was actually interested… He couldn’t help smiling from ear to ear. “Please tell Susie I’ve got too many balls I’m juggling in the air right now for anything except training, but that I’m flattered as hell, and she has definitely made my day.”
Drake chuckled, patting Eric's shoulder as he headed back out. “Sure I will, kid. Just do me a favor and change out of your new threads before you go too hardcore in your training? Mr. Guchi will be pissed enough about the singed cuff. Let’s not make things any worse.”
Eric winced. “Good thing it’s charcoal grey, right?”
Drake laughed. "Train hard, boy scout."
“Enjoy yourself!”
“Always do.”
After waving his friend off, Eric couldn’t change into sweats fast enough, stuffing his face with delicious meat and pasta as his mind raced with his plans for the evening, finding himself back in his room with a dozen reverse crossbows before him, and a fist now covered in his own blood.
