Orphan At The Edge Of The World 3 Oew 2

After casting it a couple of times and realizing the spell lasted a lot longer but magic didn't fill up with a short rest like he expected it to, Orison ditched the idea of any type of skill grinding. Even learning the spell was more like a brief exercise in academic learning than an automatic 'poof, now you know it' kind of deal. It may have even taken several days just to learn the basic spell if his head wasn't filled with various magic theorem and practical experience.

Sadly, there were only two actual spells he knew from all that supernatural stuffing. There was the tease of a trans.m.u.tation ritual that upgraded baser metals to more precious ones, way above his pay grade in control ability. He also knew some kind of telekinesis-like spell that he could maybe cast for a split second before going bone dry but it was also way above his control ability. It was worthless except as a possible emergency repulse that might cause him to hurt himself.

The silver lining was that Orison had an intuitive magic capable of healing sc.r.a.pes and bruises that also flat-lined his magic tank but would become an absolute gem when and if his magic capacity grew to be more robust. His expectations for more was quickly deflated, however. After reminding himself of the possible consequences for being greedy, Orison racked his brain on ways to safely raise his survivability in the quickest manner.

"I just wish some of this s*** worked the way it did in the game. Having my d.a.m.n skill books and the c.r.a.p I stored in the chests, for instance, would be friggin peachy," Orison thought aloud.

The dense and oppressive alien energy suffusing the house, that he had managed to temporarily forget about, churned violently before thinning significantly. Wary, Orison looked around and sensed that a portion of the invisible miasma had condensed around the bookshelf. He instantly recoiled away from it and had an epiphany that he'd probably have an instinctual terror of any book that produced even the slightest creepy vibe for the rest of his life.

"Come on. You know they're just skill books. Whatever this weird juju is, it couldn't have made them that dangerous. You've been walking in it all day and haven't grown gills or anything." A slightly unbalanced sounding nervous giggle burst from his lips.

Steeling himself, Orison reached for the first book and gently pried open the cover, ready to fling it at a moments notice. It was as if he half expected there to be a poisonous snake inside or worse, a spider. Fortunately, only a sliver of understanding about alchemical ingredients and their uses slipped into the ever deepening pool of his mind. Over the period of a few minutes, he opened a book and let the understanding fully settle before setting it back and picking up another.

Finished with the bookshelf, in a half trance, he briefly considered hunting down the other skill books in the practice yard but his head was already feeling a bit too tight. Weighing his options, Orison decided to take it easy for awhile and made his way to the back balcony, eyes closed against the sun about to enter it's setting phase over the pristine lake. His rumination was ended abruptly by the sound of shattering wood coming from the master bedroom.

Orison, quickly but cautiously, made his way there to find a broken chest with more and larger items than it could possibly hold littered around it. The only reason for the phenomenon, that he could guess, was the absolute lack of the alien energy.

"Maybe that stuff acts like lubrication between real-world physics and things that break it? But if this world already has magic, why the need unless... it's an order of magnitude thing? Like the difference between spells and the power of, well, G.o.ds maybe," he muttered to himself.

Before his eyes, many of the items that were scattered about the room slowly faded away which prompted Orison to remark, "What the f***? Well, what can I expect? Most of that c.r.a.p was tied to one malevolent ent.i.ty or another and most of them hated each other. Even if it was still here I'd probably have to treat it like hazardous waste anyway. At least I don't have to worry about it now."

Sifting through the wreckage, Orison took stock of what remained. "All the gla.s.s armor and weapons broke. That's not a big surprise. I always wondered how that dubious s*** would translate to reality. Maybe the arrows would work but that's more mean spirited than effective."

Orison vaguely recalled that very little was stored in this chest outside of the vanished collectibles. The remaining bits were sentimental items he personally crafted before he learned how to make completely game breaking ones and a couple of forgotten unique ones.

"Necklace that boosts regeneration of health and magic, wearing that now. It's the best item here probably... Ring that gives resistance to poison and disease, I didn't even think about that. Wearing it now... Steel dagger, were you in the chest or knocked off the dresser?"

After going through the meager choices of apparel, the only thing that would size to him was the Master's Robe which upped his magic regeneration further. He found a set of st.u.r.dy black boots that made his movements soundless and a bit more effortless which fit well enough to work. Not happy to leave well enough alone, Orison fiddled with the straps on a set of charcoal and silver colored gauntlets until they were only mildly comical and slightly awkward. The effort paid off because they made his outfit feel almost weightless and, through mysterious means, offered his whole body a field of protection strong enough for him feel physically.

After a few tests, Orison mumbled, "Every little bit helps but whatever it is these gauntlets are doing, it probably wont fully protect me from anything over weak or glancing hits."

Under fading twilight and the flickering magic glow of his spell, Orison tidied up the room. As he bent to gather up the last pieces of a messily enchanted leather armor set and blood stained a.s.sa.s.sin garb to squirrel away in his own room, he saw glints of reflected light coming from deep underneath the bed. Sweeping them out, he identified them as two circlets and a gem topped, battered magic staff that looked rather unreliable.

Combining game memories and real-world magic knowledge, Orison thought aloud, "This staff summons an abyss lord but judging by condition and gem glow, it's probably only good for one or two shots. I don't think recharging it is gonna do much beyond finishing it off... I remember this. I threw a water breathe on a circlet to make certain missions easier. Must have put it in the chest by mistake. Aside from looking expensive and very official, I have no idea what this other circlet is."

Lacking any signs of being dangerous, Orison figured that the quickest way to figure out the second circlet was to put it on. The scene around him was replaced by a vast starry sky before the constellation of a wizard lit up. As the hodgepodge of magical know-how in his brain shuffled into a more organized and concise configuration, he had a brief flash of memory where the boy stumbled into a monolith sporting a picture only slightly similar in shape to the blazing constellation in his mind. Having done the only thing it could do, the circlet that didn't properly belong to this world faded away along with the vision.

Still feeling a tenuous connection to the night sky, Orison placed the remaining circlet on his head and shakily said, "Oh, that circlet... Water breathing circlet it is."

After stowing the rest of his goodies and not yet tired, Orison trudged back downstairs with the notion of finding a way to clean himself into a respectable condition. Two trips to the woodpile and a filled cauldron in the fireplace later, Orison was suddenly struck with an idea.

Half disbelieving and half hopeful, Orison addressed the alien energy, "I sure wish I had an inventory spaaace, oh, and a long life!..." He paused for a split second before hastily adding as the energy began churning around him, "While still being a people, a humer, a Highland people person!"

The energy lanced into his body like a mult.i.tude of numbing icy needles, permeating it, digging into his marrow. At a fundamental level, the energy was removing, replacing and activating things. A portion of miasma split from that to collapse and re-expand in an unknowable direction, just as events were turning in a life threatening direction once more, the alien energy responded to Orison's silent plea of mercy and stabilized everything before dissipating.

Winding up to rail at the subconscious side of himself for the sudden childish urge to play with obviously dangerous forces, Orison gritted his teeth and said instead, "I made a deal and for good or ill I'll stick to it but if I end up doing something that gets me killed it's on, uh, me. You know who you're talking to, self.

Feeling embarra.s.sed and a little schizophrenic, he quickly checked himself over and again in front of the shiny shield. He discovered the only discernible change in features was that his eyes shifted from a little too bright in color to actually luminescent, though a person would have to be up in his face and in the dark to see it.

As for the opened s.p.a.ce inside him, he found that it was easy enough to put things in, hold it in his hands and will it inside, but required his magic to get things back out. By whatever metaphysical mechanics it worked, he felt as if gravity was getting heavier around him with every pound. Twenty was his current comfortable limit and up to forty was doable if straining but anything above that made it hard to breathe much less move.

"Not much but when I compare it what I'd be able to carry anyway... Bright side, that's a s***-ton of marshmallows. Middle side, a lifetime of unending strength training, though it'll probably take more than just strength to meaningfully increase my capacity," he muttered while gauging how much of the miasma was left.

About a foot from the floor, Orison could still feel the presence of the alien energy but he could feel a sluggish trickle of it flowing out of the house towards the west.

"Alright, what's stealing my wish juice? I died for that stuff. It's mine!" Orison growled.

Rushing up to the balcony, Orison looked out into the darkness barely illuminated by a moon mostly hidden behind clouds. In the distance, about a mile from the house, was a faint orange light. A momentary struggle took place between fear of leaving the house and stopping whatever was taking his miasma. Hotheadedness won as he s.n.a.t.c.hed the summoning staff and dagger out of his room before heading off into the night.

Not daring to use his light spell, Orison relied on the faint moonlight and the subtle presence of the miasma trickle to find his way. By the time he could clearly see the glow of firelight ahead of him, reason and a healthy dose of fear had overpowered the irrational anger. Having come this far, however, Orison couldn't get himself to leave easily either. Taking the middle path between, Orison decided to take a quick peek and if it looked too dangerous he'd just head home and tell his new mom about it when she got back.

Cautiously inching forward and peering past the tree line into the well hidden cove, Orison saw a crazy eyed elven man in the throws of ritual.

The cultist intoned, "Tonight is the tenth night I stand before you, Watcher in the Dark, Keeper of all Knowledge. If the fore-ascribed sacrifices do not appease, then take the heart of this slave as a sign-"

"Please master, no! Have mercy, I beg you!" a sibilant and feminine voice interrupted.

As the elf continued to intone his endless litany, oblivious to the entreaties raising up from beside him, Orison's eyes locked onto the figure of a reptilian faced youth bound to a large metal ring on the side of the makeshift stone alter.

Orison muttered quietly to himself, "Bet that f***er knows some real magic but I'd be haunted for the rest of my life if I walked away and just let someone be murdered when I could have done something about it."

Orison focused on the reserve of power within the staff. Drawing it through the enchanted runes, he flung the structured energy as close to the elf as he could. In a dull explosion of darkly glowing energy, an abyssal lord appeared. As it started to swivel back toward Orison, the malevolent but fairly humanoid looking creature's nose flaring as if trying to catch a scent, it was interrupted by the crazy elf.

"Are you an emissary of the one I seek to entreat?" The elf said in false bravado.

The abyssal lord smiled widely, exposing saw-like teeth, as it turned to the elf and said, "It is as you say. The one I willingly follow has a great gift for you. Here!"

The deep baritone voice carried a mesmerizing quality as it walked with deceptive casualness. Upon it's last word spoken, the ent.i.ty's sword snaked out with whip-like speed. The elf's head soared through air with a look of antic.i.p.atory glee frozen on his face before plunging into the lake water.

Ignoring the pumps of arterial blood coating it as it turned around and said while looking around generally at Orison's hiding place, " Come to me, summoner, or I will finish the task I a.s.sume you brought me here to prevent." It reached for the reptilian girl's head.

"Not your call to make," Orison said snidely as he plied the runes of the staff to a.s.sert control only to find, once again, that he lacked the ability to manipulate them in such a complex way.

"There you are," the ent.i.ty said as it launched itself at Orison with supernatural speed.

With as much zeal as he could, Orison smashed the staff gem onto the nearest rock as he screamed, "Suck your mom's spiky t*ts."

The resulting minor explosion of magic energy hit both of them with the power of a professional boxer's full strength. It kicked Orison's legs out from under him and knocked him back around six feet before landing him face first while barely able to stop the abyssal lord's forward momentum. So intent was it on killing its summoner that it failed to resist the pull back to it's home plane now that the anchoring magic was gone. Despite not accomplishing that feat, the residual force of it's strike slamming into Orison's back, knocked the air out of the kid's lungs for a few seconds. Getting his feet back under him, Orison wheezed air into his battered body and hobbled his way over to the alter.

"F*** magic," Orison said through weak coughs.

The reptilian girl watched with silent wariness as Orison pawed through her dead master's corpse until he turned enough for the light of the alter brazier to illuminate his face. Once she realized that the mysterious mage of unknown purpose was a few years younger than even she was, stunned, she stared wide eyed and slack-jawed at his approach.

Seeing her stunned expression, Orison mistakenly thought his face was more damaged than he thought and paused to run his healing over it before using the key he found to unlock the chain manacles.

"Sorry I made such a mess of it, trying to save you I mean," Orison said ruefully.

After a stretched moment of awkward silence, the girl hissed out a laugh that was a little too forceful to be completely genuine before she said, "We are both alive and well at the moment, what more could this one hope for. This one will attempt to enjoy the last few remaining days of life as the gift they are, that honored sir has given to this one."

Confused, Orison asked, "What do you mean by last few days?"

"The woes of a slave are beneath honored sir's concern. If there is nothing more, this one is compelled to return home," the reptilian girl replied .

As the girl turned to leave, what Orison originally believed to be a choker necklace revealed a rune etched clasp lock in the back.

Orison spat, "Ancient elf slave magic. Only those b*****ds could make something so ugly look so, so pretty."

Seeing that she was walking away, he softened his tone and quickly said, "Wait. I won't make any promises but I might be able to do something about, uh, things I can't say because it might make you fight me. If it helps, you might find it necessary to tidy up your master's remains before leaving?"

With wary confusion in her voice she said, "It wouldn't do for master's corpse to be defiled by wolves, true. Please exercise care honored sir. This one would not like it's last days ridden with guilt for unwillingly hurting such a kind... soul."

Sensing for and finding a bowl sized pool of the alien energy on the alter, Orison placed the manacle key within it and said under his breath, "I sure do wish this was a control collar key that matched this dead elf's house signature."

Orison felt the key suck up the pool of miasma and draw a little more from the trickle leading back up to his house before blue glowing patterns etched themselves onto the key.

Orison thought to himself, "After all of that, this better work. I hate half-a**ing a job."