“Synthisa Activa.”
The words sound flat and devoid of energy. Julien looks all around him. Still nothing. Damn him. What spooked him? He is supposed to help me figure this world out, not get scared and disappear!
As the opaque light of the dawn slowly repels the night, Julien attempts to banish his night terror from his mind. He’s hardly slept, his dreams filled with whiskered noses harboring deadly fangs, sniffing the air. Searching. For him. Each time he wakes, he can almost hear faint rustling and sniffing beneath the tree in which he sleeps.
It’s been two days. He has kept himself occupied studying his status screen through the Fool’s Lens and fruitlessly trying to discover new combat skills by experimenting with his sword. His distress grows daily throughout the Fool’s silence.
Julien tries over and over, but he does not see the Fool again, no matter how many times he speaks the magical phrase. He revisits the stained-glass window and studies it intensely. The images remind him of that fateful museum exhibition he had visited in what seemed another lifetime. Amazing artwork in styles that change through time but still capture an air of wisdom and mysticism. Much like the card reading Cassandra’s grandmother had done for him.
Over the days, the dots had started connecting in his head. The Fool, Blades and Pentacles, Cups and Wands. Tarot! Somehow, for some purpose, the fantastical world he is trapped in is connected to Tarot. Regardless, the realization doesn’t feel useful. Maybe it would have been if Cassandra or her grandmother were here. If only he had paid more attention during the exhibition.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Julien yawns. Rabest and Qami for breakfast. And then what? Maybe try to discover some combat skills again?
A dry twig snapping is the only warning he gets. Turning his head just in time, Julien sees a massive blur racing towards him. Diving instinctively, he dodges the spiked club. Mostly. His left side, including his shoulder, crunches sickeningly while the spikes rip through his skin.
‘You have been gravely wounded. Effect: Partial immobilisation. At least it’s better than being dead.’
Falling on his right side, Julien cries out. He is given no respite as another club descends to mash him into the ground. A quick but painful roll saves him.
Scrambling to his feet, Julien draws his sword, his left arm hanging limply at his side. He glares at the angular, whiskered faces. They have found him at last. Two rats of the terminator variety. Running? Not an option. Where to, even? He can forget about escaping into a tree with only one functioning arm.
Julien swallows. So far, the rats keep their distance, their yellow eyes on his blade. They don’t seem in a hurry. Almost as if…
Julien whirls around, swinging his blade in a wide, horizontal arc. His sword lights up, and he slashes through at least three rats jumping out at him from the ferns. Shrieks fill the air as their momentum carries them past Julien – all torsos and tailed bottoms.
“Combat skill gained: Crescent Slash.”
So, I do need a combat situation to unlock combat skills? That’s just great. Wait! No screens?!
Julien dismisses the thought as quickly as it arises. Feeling the presence of the greater threat now behind him, he scurries to find a more defensible position. He plants his back against the first broad tree he finds, brandishing his sword. How many are there? The thought flits through his head, his eyes scanning left, right, and front.
While the two club-wielding rats approach menacingly, one in the lead, five smaller rats step out of their shadows. They walk on their hind legs. The three in the middle carry pointed sticks that serve as spears, while the two at the end carry stout staves. Upon a pointed, baritone screech of their brutish companions, they fan out. Closing off any means of escape.
Is this it then? Did I get too complacent? Is this the punishment? Julien grits his teeth, his heart hammering in his chest. Fuck it. As soon as they are in range…
Julien lunges and drives the point of his sword through snout and face, catching one of the smaller rats unawares.
“Combat skill gained: Lunge. Level up! These Rotta are good leveling fodder, aren’t they?”
Rotta? Julien advances, stepping away from the tree. He discards the message and pays no attention to the painful stabbing sensation in his left side. Instead, he focuses on his right. Utilizing his dodge skill, he evades two incoming thrusts, activates his battle cry, and follows up with a heavy blow. It shatters the stick and cleaves the rat that was holding it from shoulder to opposing hip.
“Combat skill gained: Savage Slash.”
Swinging wildly behind him, he manages to drop another one. The two that remain on either side pause, squeak back and forth, and then stay put.
Taking the opportunity to recover, Julien stares the small rats down. They don’t worry him. It’s them that worry me, he thinks, as he scans the big ones. The one in the back is slightly taller, more muscular, and more scarred. The one in front, less so.
As long as Scar and Junior don’t attack at the same time…
Probably irritated by the failure of the small rats, the big ones step forward. Crap! Julien knows one good hit from a club will end him. He steps back towards the tree. Junior seems to snigger as he does so. Squeaking something to Scar in the back, he continues alone. Noticing that the other does not move, Julien decides to take a chance. He jumps between the small rat remaining on the left side and the junior terminator rat. The club is launched almost instantaneously.
It’s what he had counted on. He dodges, leading Junior on until his club smashes into the small rat. The additional weight of broken and senseless rat slows the club significantly, and Julien manages to score a hit with another savage slash. Filled with satisfaction, he sees two muscled, furry arms holding a club. The arms drop to the ground as the rat squeals. A crescent slash carves a broad path across its abdomen, and as the rat hunches over, Julien dismisses Junior and looks at the remaining two assailants. Each shallow breath sends spikes through Julien’s left side. From the corner of his eyes, he notices that his magical energy is running low.
Not good. Maybe if I can kill the smaller one, I’ll recover enough to finish Scar. He turns towards the small rat, who promptly flees. It doesn’t get farther than two steps beyond his sole surviving companion, who backhands his club and brains the rat crony as an afterthought.
Julien looks on in disbelief as the headless body crumples to the ground.
Well, so much for that plan. Now what?
The decision is taken from him. A blow from behind knocks Julien’s sword from his grip and throws him on his bad side. He screams out at the pain like that of a dozen knives stabbing and carving into him. Gritting his teeth, he transfers his weight to his knees and gets up. Apparently, Junior, a bit shorthanded and trying to keep his innards inside, had headbutted him only to fall exactly in the path of Scar, who raises his club as he steps forward.
Still wincing, Julien rushes and snatches his sword from the ground, snarling, “Oh no, you don’t.”
As soon as he reaches Junior, he starts hacking away at his neck until the head rolls free. Immediately, his magic increases to just below half of his capacity. Julien grins through the pain.
“Enough kill-stealing from you.”
The look in the beady, black eyes staring at him spells aggression. Julien prepares himself as he strategizes. He discounts the disarming strike. It would bring him too close. If the rat pounced afterwards, he might not react in time. A single powerful strike at a vital point might work, but getting close enough to do it… It’s that damn club that’s the problem.
The club!
Stepping forward in confidence, Julien dodges the first blow. Then he makes sure to stay just out of reach as the rat’s swings go left and right. Once he has the rhythm down, he yells and unleashes a savage slash and sees the sword cleave straight through the club. The momentum carries the top part off into the undergrowth, and the rat is left with just a splintered heft in his hand. He halts and starts backpedaling, his beady eyes glancing left and right.
Julien takes the opportunity to take a breather. He keeps his sword in front of him and quickly checks his magic pool – just below a quarter – and follows his assailant carefully. The rat suddenly bares his teeth and runs to his left. Julien follows the trajectory in surprise and sees Junior’s club still clutched in his two detached arms.
Julien’s next breath freezes just as he takes it. He runs after Scar as fast as he can. Just as the rat reaches his grubby paws with a triumphant squeak, Julien swings his sword for a Crescent Slash to save his life.
Too late! The thought seizes Julien. He trembles all over, staring at the back of the rat, unwilling to start the horrid dance all over again. But in front of him, the rat suddenly freezes and collapses. A deep gash passing through skin, muscle, and bone shows a severed spine.
It takes Julien’s brain a good while to register and attach any meaning to what he sees. Instead, he stands frozen amidst green ferns covered in red and grass decorated with furry body parts.