Dirty Rotten Magic

We had been traveling for three days through the never-ending forest—a labyrinth of towering, ancient trees whose gnarled roots twisted over damp, leaf-strewn ground. I had been running behind the column by myself the entire time, so the only company I had was the hearty camaraderie of the soldiers during our nightly games, their laughter echoing against the rustling canopy. The rest of the time, it was just me and the rhythmic pounding of my feet on the soft earth, my breath mingling with the musky scent of pine and loam. With every stride, I felt my body transforming, as if each step was a chisel sculpting my physique into something more powerful. I had been fit before, but now it was as if I'd been using a gym for the last several years. When the summer heat made me cast off my shirt, the golden sunlight revealed a marvelous transformation—muscles rippling beneath my skin like carved marble, hinting at the emergence of a finely toned warrior. I paused to check my stats, my fingertips tracing the glowing runes as I had been casting shield and fire spells almost continuously while running:

Name:  Chris  Top Skill  Shield Magic

Character Total Level  5      

Major Strength  Fortitude  Agility

Number 11   11   11

Major Intelligence  Charisma  Knowledge

Number 40   16   10

Minor Shield Magical Power Stamina Carry Limit

Number N/A 210 65 32

Regen Sec N/A 9 2.1 N/A

Skill Table

Name  Major  Level  XP to the next level  XP  Comment

Unarmed combat Strength/Agility 2  300  10  Any fighting without weapons

Blunt weapon use Strength/Agility 2  300  200  Use of a blunt weapon in combat

Trading Charisma  1  200  50  Buying and selling items

Romantic Charisma  0  100  48  -

Running Strength/Agility 4  500  23  -

Gambling Charisma  3  400  45  

Shield Magic Intelligence 5  600  200  Any type of shield magic

Domestic Magic Intelligence 2  300  34  Useful for all type of work around the house

Fire magic Intelligence 5  600  115  Any heat energy magic

Thankfully, I had reached level five and had invested every available point into intelligence. The spells that I practiced remained familiar, yet each incantation now vibrated with newfound power. When I hurled a flame, its fiery tendrils could now stretch out to about ten meters, dancing through the air with an almost tangible heat. The sphere of energy I could conjure had shrunk to the size of a golf ball, its low-intensity flame perfect for kindling a dry pile of wood, though it would scarcely harm a fully clothed human. Even so, the improvement filled me with hope—a spark of potential in this perilous realm. Every journey starts with its first steps, I mused, but now I needed to run and gather power with the urgency of a man pursued by destiny.

We had been attacked by many monsters along the road, ambushes occurring at least two or three times a day. Each skirmish revealed more of the world's brutal truth, and I felt the raw adrenaline mingling with the forest's damp, earthy aroma. In those moments of chaos, I had aided our defense where I could, yet I refrained from revealing the full extent of my modest magical prowess, clinging to the guise of a formidable magician. The fact that I could endure injury and mend without the elven magic of healing was, in itself, a marvel—a silent, mysterious testament to my resilience.

It was the early afternoon of the third day; the column of riders and I were beginning our ascent into the foothills. The landscape transformed gradually: from the dense, shadowed underbrush of the forest to open slopes where the air smelled faintly of wild herbs and mineral-rich soil. In the distance, a small range of rugged mountains loomed—an ominous border between the savage domain of the orcs and the well-ordered kingdom of men. I had expected the soldiers' nerves to fray as we neared this hostile boundary, yet they remained unnervingly calm. They had simply tied white banners to several of their spears, the pristine cloth fluttering like ghostly signals in the wind to declare our peaceful intent. This subtle act of diplomacy had soothed everyone's fears, all but mine, which still churned with anxious anticipation.

As the day advanced, the slope's gradient increased until every horse ambled slowly up the winding, rock-strewn path. The ground underfoot grew more uneven and exposed, the scent of crushed stone mingling with the lingering aroma of damp earth. The trees here were different—evergreen, with leaves in deeper, darker shades of green and brown, as if painted by nature's own hand in bold strokes. Though I was in constant motion, the chill that clung to the high pass was palpable if we halted for even a moment. One thoughtful soldier had handed me a spare coat from our supplies, its woolly fabric exuding the faint, comforting smell of smoke and spice, perfect for warding off the impending cold.

Now that the horses' pace had slowed, some riders began dismounting to walk alongside their mounts. Occasionally, I found myself among the group rather than trailing behind, engaging in a quiet conversation with Sir Lohein as he rode side by side with Lady Alea. Their conversation carried above the soft thud of hooves and the murmur of the wind.

"So, why are you so confident about the white flag?" I asked, my voice blending with the murmurs of the hillside.

He smiled down at me, his eyes twinkling like polished obsidian. "The orcs have two overarching characteristics that we have observed. One is their completely barbaric nature. Left unchecked, they would wipe us out without a thought, much like a savage storm over a quiet field. The second and even more important trait is their sense of honor. They adhere to an agreement with the rigor of ancient tradition, expecting all parties to do the same. One only breaks a promise to an orc if one desires a swift and brutal death."

"The white flags are a sign that we come in peace under a truce. They will honor the truce as long as we do not provoke them," he continued, his words steady as the steady beat of a war drum.

"You're so confident in the orc's honor?" I enquired, a tremor of incredulity in my tone.

"Yes. I would bet my life on it," he replied, his voice resolute even as we ventured into enemy territory, "and we are doing just that, for when we enter their lands, we will be completely at their mercy."

Lady Alea then spoke up, her tone cutting through the conversation like a sharp wind through brittle leaves. Though her gaze did not meet mine, it locked onto the diplomat with an intensity that chilled the very air between us. "The orcs may be bloodthirsty warriors, but they are honorable. Not like some Barad`Ellil, who is merely biding his time for betrayal—true to his duplicitous nature."

Sir Lohein's face registered shock at her remark. He spurred his horse forward abruptly, as though eager to distance himself from her scorn.

"That's a rather sweeping statement," I said, a hint of bemusement threading my words as I wondered what slight I might have unwittingly provoked. I knew she suspected me of being a Valkin—a notion I could neither confirm nor completely refute. The illusion of being a mighty magician was useful, yet I could not fathom the depth of her disdain.

"Why would I ever betray you to the orcs?" I asked, my voice steady despite the undercurrent of tension.

Her eyes narrowed, and her full, focused gaze turned toward me, the intensity of her stare as sharp as the mountain wind. "It's in your very nature to exploit the creatures of this world for your own ends. I, for one, refuse to be subjugated by your tyrannical ambitions."

"My goodness, lady! You've leaped from suggesting that I might betray you to accusing me of world domination. I may wield potent magic, but ruling the world is far beyond my humble reach," I replied with a gentle smile, though the air seemed to crackle with unspoken challenge.

I wondered silently how she could imagine me as a would-be overlord. I had managed to convince them all that I was a mighty magician, yet beneath that veneer, I was still merely human—fragile and fallible.

A low snort escaped her as I continued walking beside her horse in a heavy silence that mingled with the rustling of leaves. Suddenly, without warning, an arrow shattered the calm by striking the ground between her mount and me. I froze in startled surprise, and in that heart-stopping moment, a volley of arrows began to rain down, their whistling passage through the crisp air accompanied by the soft, deadly thud of impact. One arrow found its mark on my lower calf, while another latched onto the back of her horse, sending the animal into a violent buck. Lady Alea tumbled backward, her fall punctuated by a heavy thud as her head collided with the dirt, rendering her unconscious in an instant.

The storm of arrows intensified, their deadly dance punctuating the air with a sinister rhythm. Noticing that some of them neared her exposed form, I scrambled forward, heart pounding like a war drum, and leapt over to shield her with my body. As I lay atop her, feeling the slow, uneven cadence of her breathing, a searing pain tore through my lower back where the first arrow had struck. The archers, like spectral figures hidden in the gloom, had now found their mark, and two more arrows plunged into me, eliciting a scream of agony that echoed off the rocky slopes. In a final, excruciating moment, I felt an arrow pierce my heart—its impact so profound that I could sense the fragile rhythm of life shattering as if a dam had burst. Darkness rushed in like a tidal wave.

In that suffocating blackness, my consciousness seemed to detach, floating above the carnage as if it were a silent, spectral observer. I looked down in amazement at my translucent, immaterial form, disconnected from the suffering of my physical self. Beneath me, I saw my true body—a grotesque display of fatality—with arrows protruding like cruel, metallic thorns from my back. Scarlet rivulets of blood flowed freely, staining my shirt with the deep, dark hue of life's final gasp. Around us, the escorting soldiers charged forward, shields raised to deflect the lethal projectiles. In the dense woods, I caught sight of furtive green homolid creatures darting away from a rocky rise, from where the arrows had been unleashed. Some soldiers, their bows steady despite the chaos, countered with their own arrows aimed at the fleeing assailants.

My vision sharpened as I focused on the brief, grim ballet of arrows striking these creatures—short, sinewy beings with skin and bone exposed beneath grimy, worn leather, each clutching a bow and a dagger with desperate precision. As the lethal projectiles continued to pelt the ground around them, the creatures dispersed with a sudden, panicked swiftness, vanishing into the enveloping gloom of the forest. I turned my gaze to the forest itself—a vast, primordial expanse that exuded an aura of mystery and foreboding. Its towering canopy of cottonwood, hazel, and juniper allowed slender beams of shimmering light to pierce the darkness, nurturing a carpet of fragile saplings amid boulder-strewn clearings. Thick, twisting vines clutched at every tree trunk, while scattered wildflowers added bursts of color to an otherwise somber tableau. Amidst this natural symphony, the rustling leaves and creaking branches played a chaotic orchestra, abruptly silenced as the enemy retreated.

I glanced back at my own body and saw the elf stirring, her anger evident as she pushed me away. True to form, she muttered a string of curses under her breath until her eyes caught sight of the arrows embedded in my back, and her ire dimmed into a quiet, resigned silence. Typical, I thought wryly—she was only furious because I had invaded her personal space, and now she must reckon with the irony that I, a mere pin cushion, had saved her life.

Straining to decipher her expression, I could not tell whether gratitude flickered beneath the surface of her hardened features. As the skirmish waned, the soldiers began corralling their scattered horses, soothing them with soft, reassuring words and the gentle clatter of leather reins. Sir Lohein approached, his face a mask of grim resolve as he gently rolled me over to examine my wounds.

In a low murmur directed at Lady Alea, he remarked, "Well, I guess he must have not been a great magician."

At that moment, as if punctuating his words, one of the arrows lodged in my back dislodged and clattered to the ground, startling everyone. Then, in an almost surreal moment, more arrows began to emerge as though propelled from within me. The crimson blood flowed steadily for a few seconds before the wounds began to knit themselves closed. I felt an irresistible pull urging me to return, and as I succumbed to it, my consciousness began to merge back with my body.

When I awoke, I was coughing and spitting up dark blobs of blood that landed with soft, wet thuds on the dusty ground. I rolled onto my back and took deep, shuddering breaths until the cool air filled my lungs, carrying with it the faint, bitter scent of iron. Around me, the soldiers murmured in hushed tones, some making frantic signs to their gods. Glancing to my side, I saw Lady Alea's face contorted in pure horror at my sudden return to life. After a minute of heavy breathing, I summoned enough strength to rise to my feet.

Remarkably, compared to previous injuries, the healing process now felt swift and almost instinctual—as though my body had been forged anew by hardship. The assembled group stood in silent awe until the sergeant's sharp voice shattered the stillness, "We can't stand around here all day! Form up and be ready to move out in five minutes."

With that, the men began moving, their footsteps a quickening cadence as orders were barked in the crisp air. Soon, I found myself alone with Alea and Sir Lohein.

"Some thanks might be in order," I said to the elf, my tone laced with dry humor. The woman trembled visibly, biting her lower lip until a small bead of blood emerged, yet she managed a graceful curtsey before turning briskly toward her horse without a backward glance.

I then addressed the diplomat with a playful lilt, "I heard you say I must have not been a great magician," throwing his earlier remark back at him like a well-aimed quip. His face paled instantly, as white as freshly fallen snow, and he bowed his head as I began peeling off my blood-soaked shirt. The only remnant of the ordeal was the dark, dried blood marking my skin like an indelible signature.

"I'm going to need more shirts if I keep this up," I added with a wry smile, eliciting an even paler reaction from him. "I'll go find you a new shirt," he stammered, hastily excusing himself and dashing off toward one of the donkeys laden with supplies. I watched as he dispatched a reluctant soldier, who sprinted to me, handed over a fresh shirt with a respectful bow, and then melted away into the fray.

A quiet thought crossed my mind: Wonderful—the fear I inspire is spreading, and it seems that even the woman's apprehension has infected everyone. This is going to be a very lonely trip if this sentiment continues.

With that, the column reformed and we resumed our climb into the rugged heights, and I found myself alone again as I drifted to the back.

--

The column of the diplomatic party had just crossed over the cold pass of the mountain, and I was looking toward the other side. I had expected a change in terrain, but all I saw was a forest stretching endlessly, its verdant depths melding with the horizon. The forest was wet and prospering, each tree's bark slick with dew and the rich scent of loam mingling with the crisp mountain air. Tall green trees soared upward like nature's cathedral spires, their trunks thick and gnarled from years of weathering the elements. Their lofty canopy, woven together by juniper, rhododendron, and oak, filtered the sunlight into a dazzling mosaic, casting playful patches of light and shadow on the insect-riddled soils below, where a riot of bushes competed for every ray of sunlight. Curving vines, draped like emerald serpents, dangled from many a tree, swaying gently in the cool breeze, while a kaleidoscope of wildflowers—delicate and vivid—spotted the landscape with bursts of color amid the overwhelming green. In the distance, the clamor of beastly noises from foraging creatures mingled with the soft rustling of leaves and the whispering wind, creating an eerie yet captivating symphony that resonated throughout the forest. I noticed that the forest seamlessly ascended the mountain pass we had just traversed, its ancient trees and tangled undergrowth stretching resolutely to the very summit, where clouds of moisture rolled in like ghostly armies pressing against the rugged edge of the mountains.

So this is the land of the orcs, I thought. I wonder where the orcs are.

We did not have to wait long, for out of the dense tree line emerged a larger-than-human, green-skinned monster, its skin a sallow green-brown that glistened with the dampness of the forest. The creature's porcine tusks, jutting both from the upper and lower parts of its mouth, gave it a fierce, almost grotesque profile, while its body was encased in heavy, time-worn armor that clanked with each deliberate step. Etched into the metal were painted marks, intricate swirls and lines that seemed to signify a long-forgotten insignia or rank—a silent story of battles fought and honor earned. It stood solitary, as if its appearance on this path were the most mundane occurrence in an otherwise extraordinary world. Without hesitation, I ran up to the front where the diplomat and the elf waited, their faces set in expressions of both expectation and guarded apprehension.

When I arrived, the elf, with her delicate features and aloof demeanor, continued to ignore me as always, her eyes distant and contemplative. Meanwhile, Sir Lohein, ever the courteous knight with a weathered yet earnest face, offered me a forced smile and said, "It's an orc general – you can tell from the markings." His words, while formal, carried an undercurrent of practiced diplomacy that barely masked his uncertainty.

As the orc general drew nearer, his deep, rumbling voice cut through the murmur of the forest. "You bear the sign of peace. Will you keep the truce and honor the accord?" His words reverberated against the ancient trees, echoing like a challenge across the clearing. Sir Lohein replied with unwavering formality, "We will," his tone measured and respectful despite the tension in the air.

"What do you want?" asked the orc as he surveyed us, his eyes sharp and calculating beneath bushy, shadowed brows. Sir Lohein stepped forward and stated, "We are on a diplomatic mission to the Usoucakha Empire on behalf of the town of Oakville in the kingdom of Neo-Nursia. We are here with peaceful intents to plead our case for peace with the Usoucakha Empire." The words were delivered with careful articulation, each syllable imbued with the weight of responsibility and hope.

The orc grunted in acknowledgment and said, "Fine, as is your right. I will take you to the northern stronghold where the chief is in council. Follow me, as it is within a day's march." Without further ado, he burst into a run, his powerful limbs propelling him toward a narrow, winding path in the forest. His footsteps pounded against the soft earth, a rhythmic drumbeat that melded with the natural symphony around us.

The captain's voice boomed over the din as he shouted to the escort soldiers, "You heard the creature - form up and follow him. Just remember not to do anything to provoke him as we have safe passage now, and we don't want to lose it." I could hear the sergeant's sharp commands as his voice carried the order to form a protective squad around the two diplomats. While they arranged themselves in disciplined rows, I began to run after the orc guide. His pace was measured, allowing the quest party time to catch up; his footsteps soft yet resolute against the forest floor. I pushed forward, my bare feet slapping against the cool, mossy ground, leaving faint imprints that mingled with the myriad scents of damp earth and wildflowers. Moments later, the pounding of hooves announced the arrival of horses catching up to our pace. I quickened my stride to run alongside the orc, who glanced over at me with a curious nod, his eyes reflecting both respect and a hint of mirth.

For several hours we ran in tandem, the rhythmic thuds of our steps and the occasional clatter of the horses' hooves harmonizing with the sounds of the forest—the distant howls of wild animals, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. As we navigated the tangled undergrowth and looming, ancient trees, every now and then, the sight of a humble stone house or a small village peeked through the dense green curtain, their structures built of massive stone blocks that spoke of a long history of defense and resilience.

Along the road, we encountered several orcs who stepped aside respectfully at our approach, some even offering a courteous salute to the orc general. After a brief pause for a meal—a rustic interlude filled with the clatter of wooden utensils and murmured conversations that faded into the background—I found myself once again running beside the steadfast orc guide. Breaking the prolonged silence, he turned to me and spoke the first words that had emerged from his throat during all those hours of relentless running. "Why are all of the members of your party scared of you?" His tone was both inquisitive and teasing, as if seeking a glimpse into a mystery he had long observed.

I looked at him with a relaxed smile, the rhythmic pounding of my bare feet on the earthen path echoing around us. "Is it that obvious?" I replied, a spark of amusement lighting my eyes.

"Not really, but then I'm trained to notice human reactions," said the orc, his voice carrying a wry humor amidst the tension of our journey.

"That's interesting; why?" I asked, genuinely intrigued by his keen observation.

"To be able to work with the diplomats who come to the stronghold. Most of the orcs in the empire are not known for their diplomatic skills, so we need to be trained to deal with them," he explained, his tone matter-of-fact and laced with an undercurrent of pride.

"But back to my question - why are they afraid of you? Especially the elven woman. She looks at you as if you are a demon!" he continued, his gaze shifting ahead as if to scan the horizon for further clues.

"We had a small incident on the way over the mountain with some creatures with bows," I said, the memory of that tense encounter flickering in my mind.

"Sounds like the goblin scum that infests the kingdom side of the mountains," he remarked, his voice resonating with a mix of disdain and amusement.

"Oh, is that what they are called? Anyway, I displayed a magical ability that seemed to have scared them all. Though Lady Alea has not liked me from the beginning of the quest," I confessed, a rueful smile playing on my lips as I recalled the nervous glances and hushed whispers.

"That's strange, as the elves are not normally afraid of anything. They're so arrogant in their power that they look down upon us 'lesser races,' as they call us. Whatever the reason for the woman's fear of you, I like it, as it's good to see an elf unsettled. I will be keeping an eye on you." He finished with a toothy smile that, despite its friendly veneer, carried the subtle sharpness of someone well-versed in the nuances of interspecies relations. I figured he had been trained to smile if he worked as a diplomat, his features softening just enough to convey congeniality.

We returned to running in silence, our shared pace an unspoken understanding as we covered more miles through the lush, vibrant forest. The dappled sunlight, now intermingled with the cool, earthy aroma of pine and wet foliage, created a sensory tapestry that was as mesmerizing as it was daunting. I found myself musing on his words about the elves, pondering why Lady Alea's gaze held such a fierce, unsettling mistrust toward me. Perhaps, I thought, uncovering the root of her fear might prove useful in future encounters—a clue to navigating the intricate web of elven pride and diplomacy.

Around a bend in the winding road, the dense canopy began to part, revealing a clearing bathed in natural light. Soon we emerged from the emerald embrace of the forest into a vast open space dominated by a single, majestic hill. Against this hill, ten sturdy round towers stood in stately formation, connected by small bridges and encircled by dense, chunky walls hewn from light red stone. Small windows were scattered generously across the walls in a seemingly random pattern, each one a silent observer to the bustling activity below, while enormous crenellations provided vantage points for archers and artillery. Behind the towering roundels, a strong keep, seemingly carved from the very heart of the hill, soared above everything in the clearing as if striving to touch the heavens. On the top of the square keep, vibrant banners streamed in the wind, their colors bold against the backdrop of a vast, ominous moat. A massive gate, complete with heavy wooden doors, a drawbridge, and stalwart crenellated guards, served as the solitary, imposing entrance into the fortress.

What was unusual was that there was no farmland surrounding the castle, just defenses stretching across the entire open field—a stark reminder that this was a land where survival depended on vigilance and strength.

"Don't go off the track!" shouted the orc, his voice echoing off the stone and earth. "The field is full of traps." His warning sent a ripple through the riders, causing them to pull in from the side of the track and form a tight column, every muscle tensed with alertness.

When we reached a fork in the road, the orc general halted abruptly, only to be met by another orc clad in armor and wielding a long spear. In a firm yet respectful tone, our orc escort declared, "Your soldiers will follow the lieutenant to their accommodation outside the castle." The words were delivered with the precision of military routine, yet underpinned with a cordial respect that belied the rough exterior of our orcish guides.

As we had been expecting this, the captain had already organized for some of the sturdy donkeys, laden with supplies and burdens, to be transferred to us. I happily found myself leading two of the pack donkeys, one of which bore a chest that I guessed was brimming with gold—a treasure I furtively wondered if I might glimpse inside soon. With each of us now guiding at least one of the pack animals, we resumed our journey toward the castle.

Sir Lohein was ahead, talking politely to the orc general who was escorting us toward the great stone fortress by the mountain.