Chapter 5: Ch. 5 – Semplice

I’m glad that whatever second nature got imprinted on me helped simplify so many things.

“Project,” I mumbled, pointing at a mass of glowing fungi. Adjusting my last silk creation inside my sweater’s big front pocket, I had been walking for a bit now. No idea without a timepiece, a few curves to the left and then the right, maybe a general feeling of going upward.

+Target is ??? mushroom. Status: unknown. Notes: very lowlight source.+

For instance, the mere act of walking. Trotting? Strolling? Each of the eight spear-like legs were perfectly synchronized. Just like walking with a human pair but with the confidence I wouldn’t trip over them. My front two blade limbs randomly lifted every so often in front of me like an idle animation, making quiet pings as the sword-like growths tapped. Maybe to appear threatening.

Getting around on six independently while the front two fought was good to know. Then also I had my two fists. Theoretically I could be clashing with my two Bladeweaver forelimbs, cast magic with my hands, and then scurry around all at once.

“Project,” I said, looking over with a weak wave of the hand at the lichen.

Doing a quick and messy braid, I stuffed my scarlet-tipped raven hair into the sweater hood and put it up. I stretched backwards as far as possible without pulling a muscle. Surprisingly, my shoulder blades touched to the topmost part of my derriere. The up-and-down bobbing with each step made it less than comfortable, but knowing I could do this to maybe avoid a slash to my squishy human half was helpful.

+Target is ??? herb. Status: unknown. Notes: very lowlight source.+

Out of curiosity, I reached out to draw my finger over one of the big tangerine pools of – if I had to make an educated guess – magic on my carapace. There was a feeling like I just poked a wet sponge as I dragged it closer to me. Other trails of music notes stretched to follow as I moved the pool around and around before flicking it like a marble, making it hurdle down the side of my spidery canvas out of sight.

Turning my head, I yawned and looked over to Mister Rat. He’d since stopped struggling and was seething with rodential rage at this indignity.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” was my reply, reaching over to ruffle the top of his head and scratching the back of his ear like I would a dog. “It could always be worse, y’know.”

+Relationship improved with Giant Dire Rat, level five: hostile to cautious.+

Despite the MAP displaying this interesting turn of events, Mister Rat was still fixing me with daggers in his eyes.

Head pats were given nonetheless.

“Right,” I exhaled, willing my MAP menu to clear and then draw up my stats again. Looking at the ribbon on the far right of my vision, the top symbol attracted my attention. “Might need to look at Features and Traits now.”

Skeletal framework of a menu. Very sad.

+Features and Traits. Seven categories: Arachne, Bard, Clothier, Forester, CHOICE, General, Background.+

“Fuck. Can’t you just-,” I railed against the World, punching the air before sitting upright and coming to a stop. “How do I cast magic?!”

Focusing my aggravation on the Bard tab, it opened to a familiar blurb and a few bullet points under it. I expected words but almost all of them, save one which seemed hopeful, were blurry like glitched textures.

+Class: Bard.+

+ Using the songs of creation, they grant boons to friend and curse their foe. For all else, the bow is for music as much as for arrow, the sword a quill to write in blood.+

+safjw187721+

+khiun217673+

+ Creation’s Litany+

+pmheh780085+

“Goddammit, could’ve told me the class was still a little half-baked,” I growled, opting to press on the only readable entry.

+Bards utilize their magic uniquely in that their will is made manifest with lyrical phrases. Such a phrase is referred to as a Litany and does not need to be memorized to be used, relying on the Bard’s quick wit and creativity to compose a spell at the drop of a hat. Since they are able to channel their magic through the power of song and meter, they are able to use their voice alone. Instruments acting as foci impart specific bonuses.+

“Oh. That’s cool. But how do I work with it?” I noted, calmed by the influx of lore. Something shifted out of the corner of my eye. Intersection. Multiple paths. I was probably fine for now.

+Words of power can be acquired as modifiers to help compose longer Litany spells that do require memorization, of which there are only so many a Bard can know at once. The number improves as they grow in power.+

“Right, right, right, ad-libbing spells probably covers regular mana usage and no-cost cantrips, a Litany is something on a long cooldown, and I just need my voice,” I counted off on my fingers.

All my eyes were on this new entry. I couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. Movement front, past the translucent MAP panels that would’ve been animated in front of my face in a virtual reality menu.

+Unlocked elements: Earth, Wind, Flame, Water. Unlocked nouns: people, folk, tribe, clan. Unlocked verbs: dance, sing, soothe, cleanse, rise, leap, shout, slash. Unlocked adjectives: none.+

+Example to use Fire damage: “People of the Flame, dance!”+

+Example to use Water healing: “Folk in the Water, soothe!”+

+Example to use Earth utility: “Clans of the Earth, rise!”+

+Example to use Air: “Tribes of the Wind, slash!”+

+In combat.+

“Wh-?”

Reflexively my blade limbs rose to block a massive swing whooshing towards me, barely catching it from whacking me in the squishy human chest. All of the MAP panels disappeared as I was tossed through the air and scraping along the ground, nearly keeling over. I slammed against the cavern wall with a loud pop that shouldn’t come from your shoulder, legs crashing together painfully.

Scrabbling backwards away from whatever the hell just hit me, I found myself in a new room. My gamer senses were tingling in a bad kind of way. Like an arena. Quick survey, I was now in an enclosed chamber. Forced away from the four-way I had come out to. Rudimentary furniture. Trophies of animals.

“Hroarrrgh!” was the only warning I got as I heard more than saw a massive weapon arc towards me again.

No time to do anything other than retreat again with a leap backwards, knocking over what seemed like a huge bed, furs, chairs, table. If this thing could move me when I used my blades to block, there was no way in hell I was testing out my own durability if it hit me for real.

Wait.

Shit! My health! Tenth gone, I forgot about the low Shield rating! Even if I saw I blocked it with my own two eyes - goddammit, I hated these kinds of mechanics - it would still chip away at me without activating the actual Shield stat!

Mister Rat screeched in protest at my driving skills, shaking back and forth on my left side. I tried to keep him away from whatever was attacking me. Might be trying to build a cold and ruthless killer persona, but I did still have a soft spot for fuzzy fur babies. He was also contender for animal mascot.

My eyes looked back and forth, trying to find my attacker. I couldn’t see it. Just the effects they had on the environment. Changing tactics, Arachne half made as much a mess as it could while retreating to the center of the detritus.

Large, rumbling footsteps kicked up garbage and another grunt of exertion and my human half ducked forward. My hoodie was barely clipped in the loose baggy part my hair was bunched into. Smiling, perfect dodge, so I-

Stars. Black. Blinking furiously, my health bar dropped a quarter down in the second I got to look at it.

My body reared back out of habit. Like Ari the wage slave would have after getting kneed in the face while leaning over. My balance wavered as my brain and my instincts and my second nature got their wires crossed. Disoriented. Disorientation? Stunned?

The dull gust of wind again. Club, branch, tree trunk, whatever the hell the invisible great weapon was crumpled in two of my walking legs with a sickening crunch and sent my bulk skidding across the floor end over end like a car crash.

Less than half health. Exclamation points over it, probably status conditions. Tears were flowing down my cheeks from the pain, other eyes noting the lower half of the disabled legs was oozing a crimson gold and avoided putting weight on the ground.

“Hah! Puny spider lady!” boomed my attacker. Why couldn’t I see the fucker?! “Hagash crush spider lady! Take nice smell shirt. Oh! Hagash idea!”

Woompfh.

I had to dodge on my bad legs, pulling myself to the right. Mister Rat cried out in fear as the space next to him was obliterated. Wood and bone items splintering through the air like a salvo of tiny shards as the club hit the ground.

“Hagash break spider lady legs. Hagash make spider lady make nice shirts!” he cackled, whumping his invisible weapon on the floor back and forth randomly.

Cornered inside the room, the exit was now on the opposite side.

Didn’t care.

Saw red.

I.

Will.

Be.

No.

Slave.

“Folk in the Water, dance!”

Water formed in the space in front of me. Tiny silhouette of someone male with a tricorne formed out of it, long oilskin mariner’s coat flapping, looked at me and bowed. They turned and fiercely exploded as a wave of water in front of me. A figure big and tall got drenched, outlining his weapon too. In that moment I wished I could call down lightning on the bastard.

“Tribes of the Wind, slice!”

A wisp of a slender girl, shimmering green, tapped on a tambourine as she whispered into existence, flowing shear flapping as she winked at me. Her dance flourishes flung three blades of hardened air aimed at the invisible creature’s weapon hand. Unfortunately for me, it did little except hit the damn wood with a sharp schwing and draw a little bit of blood as they passed through its flesh.

Wait.

No, the black blood visible was enough a contrast to see flesh, skin, wood. I knew I could hit him for a little with it. My magic wasn’t as good as my physical, but right now it let me know where he was.

Oh, dammit, I’m so stupid!

“Project!”

My six eyes saw the silver outline.

Hummunah, hummunah, this asshole was an absolute unit. Tall, broad shoulders, fantasy levels of monster muscles thick as my previous human thighs. Slouching over he was still as tall as I was. He was wielding a small tree with leather wrappings around the handle. Red blood flowed out of shallow cuts made by my Air spell.

And no wonder he was hitting me so hard.

+Target is Hagash, level twenty elite Troll. Status: wet, bleeding, superior stealth, regeneration. Notes: illusion magic user. Addendum: challenge rating comparable.+

Comparable, my shiny orange ass!

“Rrrrhhhhnnn, Hagash no like spider lady magic!” he roared, charging me with an overhead swing.

Now that I could see, I screamed in defiance. Blades flashed outwards one after other. First blow knocked it off course to slam on the ground, second tried taking off his hand. Biting deep, I think it caught on the bone. Just as he was about to roar in annoyance, I clocked him square in the face with my fist to send him reeling back. Something broke. Accepting the small victory, I circled around and away to the center of the room.

Fleeing never crossed my mind.

Second nature took over, good hand moving to pop my shoulder back into place.

“Nhk! Hngash, gah! Hagash-,” the Troll tried mustering. He set his nose back in place with a faint glow of green in my second set of eyes. Regeneration. “Hagash angry. No fair!”

“Says the weak Troll so afraid of his own shadow, he’s hiding in it!” I countered with a hiss. Violet music notes dripped out of my clenched fist. The other was palm up and ready to throw another Litany at him.

I began to draw power into setting this place on fire, a fucking storm of it, fixing his amorphous form with a glare.

Wait. My mana was at maybe a third. That in mind, I opted to turn it upside down toward my broken frame. If there was something I knew about Trolls depicted in my world, maybe this would work in my favor.

“People of the Flame.”

Black smoke poofed into the air above my cracked open leg, rolling off a swarthy spirit of fire resembling a blacksmith, sledgehammer in hand and cigar butt between teeth. I heard the scrape of a foot backwards from in front of me.

“Cleanse.”

The first blow from the fiery silhouette hurt like hell. Anger tempered the extra pain, channeling it into resolve against whoever this was attacking me. My mana went down to a tenth but my health jumped up.

Second knocked joints back into place. Up to three-quarter full. Feeling returned to the limb as I flexed, putting weight on it. Bruised but serviceable.

He flinched away from the final flare used to restore myself, cauterizing the wound. Bladeweaver namesakes singing against each other as they flourished, ready to flash out, I faced off against this Hagash.

Then the invisibility dropped. The full brutish blue-skinned fellow with red eyes reared to his full height, uncomfortably easy to look down on me. Muscles resembled those powerlifters that could actually break records despite a healthy little paunch. Two long yellowed tusks jutted out from his mouth next to the teeth of a carnivore. Most likely not for show.

I noticed that the top half of his club had rolled away a distance behind him, perfectly cut by the deadly air. He was bare chested but thankfully wore some ratty trousers made of what I gathered was poor quality hide.

“Hagash not afraid,” he gnashed through his tusked maw. “Spider lady speak Troll. Why spider lady speak Troll?”

Hey, I piqued his curiosity while my health and mana started passively recovering. Slowly but surely, planning out what to do next.

“Since you gave me your name, I will give you mine,” I replied evenly, crossing arms while both my blades quietly sharpened each other in front of me. “I am…”

Oh.

Who was I?

Was I really that cold-blooded killer I fancied myself?

Something else, maybe drawing on that little tidbit of lore?

Definitely not old wage slave Enna, Kassie, Dani, preferably not Tiddies, grocery store demonstrator. But, then what kind of Arachne Raid Boss in this World was I?

Well, I was talking to a monster who was going to either die by my hand… or become a connection. Associates and contacts were important to survive in any MMORPG. Might as well try out diplomacy on for size just this once.

“Lady Arienna Kestalennetti,” I introduced, withdrawing my magic by clasping my fingers over my belly within my sleeves. “And I’m not a ‘spider lady.’ I am an Arachne.”

“A-rack-knee? Hagash not know,” he replied, trying to thump his weapon on the floor again. It made only a tiny tock on the floor as he realized it had lost much of its potency, just now seeing that half of it had been sliced off by the Air slash and sitting upright behind him a good ways away. “Hagash call name spider lady if no short.”

“Fine. Ari will work.” My legs shifted, muffled thuds in the gravelly ground from my legs kicking things around. Damn. I had no subtlety as this huge creature below the waist. “And you are Hagash.”

“Mhrrn. Sp-… Ari strong. Ari use magicks,” the Troll snorted, wiping dark blood from his face with his sausage fingers.

Nose looked like it healed perfectly, likewise the thin cuts on this main hand I hoped would do something. Obviously slashing wasn’t the greatest if they closed this quickly, not with how fine they were. Fire had a visible effect enough to make him pause, so maybe he had the stereotypical RPG vulnerability. Look at me, plotting to murder my enemy during a truce.

“Yes. I’ve been… asleep for a long time,” I began my villain backstory. I reached backwards to pat my captive on the head, who seemed a little reassured now that we weren’t in massive danger. “My resting place was disturbed by Mister Rat. Further down the terri-, the cavern.”

“Mhrrr, Ari why Hagash no own ter-terry. Hagash want kill Ari, own ter-terry again,” he replied, scratching his chin. “Hagash not know why tunnel four way, not three. It deep.”

“Really? That’s all?” I scoffed in disbelief. Found out that monsters had at least an underlying understanding of how the World works on the game system level. “And waste a chance to talk to a ‘spider lady’ you’ve never seen before. Not to mention, apparently you like my clothes.”

The Troll looked at his club, then at me.

“Hagash was talking.”

I clapped my hands softly in front of my mouth to refrain from uttering a diplomatic incident regarding his choice of aggressive negotiation tactics.

“Well, I am impressed. You managed to make me worry for a moment,” was instead my drawn-out sigh of a compliment. “Hagash, you are smart. I am sure you have been wondering how to kill me while I’ve done the same.”

As he tensed and readied to charge me at the incendiary words, I held up a finger to wait. Ari was going to channel her inner salesperson and hope things went off without a hitch.

You are reading story Arienna’s Cadence at novel35.com

“I propose a trade. I don’t want your territory,” I began to count, each item with a finger, as his interest was piqued. “However, I have been asleep for a long time. I need somewhere safe to rest while I look around the area. And, I have something you want.”

“Hagash…”

Gears turning in that potentially small brain of his. Or maybe not so small. Broken speech wasn’t an indicator of lacking intelligence, especially when monsters were concerned.

“…listen. Ari sit, pointy legs down. Hagash sit, no club.”

And the Troll moved to the middle of the room, pulling a bundle of furs under his knees. No room for discussion. Typical alpha male, but I could be begrudged to follow his lead in this particular situation.

“Agreed,” I hummed. My legs clacked over wooden debris and the odd stones here and there. Maybe this was a home for others too. Maybe he was buying time. Pack tactics would probably send me to the death screen if he had other level twenty minions. Though, maybe he just had lots of beds and furniture. Maybe he was a carpenter plying his trade and I broke his merch? Who knows.

Nestling comfortably, my blade forelimbs under me in such a way that it would take about as long as it would for him to reach over to me with those heavy hands, we appraised each other one more time. I shrugged my hood back and let my ponytail flick over my shoulder. Negotiating with people to buy shit they didn’t exactly want at the time was my forte. I might not have been rich, but I was good at pitching products as a demonstrator. Of course, now I had a few more cards in my hand to play.

Buuut, stakes were much higher.

Idly my hand reached back to scratch Mister Rat behind the ears, stroking the rough fur soothingly. Poor guy had been having a hell of a day. Got his friends killed and then taken captive by a surprisingly dashing young Arachne woman. Who enjoyed letting him know she wasn’t going to do to the same to him yet, but also gave scritches.

+Relationship improved with Giant Dire Rat, level five: cautious to neutral.+

Mister Rat started leaning into my touch. Hmm.

“Ari eat big rat later?” Hagash inquired.

“Oh, Mister Rat?” I blinked. “No, I’m not sure what to do with him. He turns invisible like you, but not as well as you can. Your skill is very impressive, Hagash.”

“Heh. Hagash thank,” he preened, sitting a little taller. Stroke the pride, Ari. “You say I want thing. What want?”

“You like my shirt. You wanted me to-, how did you say it?” I stated, adding a withering gaze. “Make nice shirts for you?”

“Erh, Hagash say that.”

“Uhuh. Yes. While I resent your phrasing, I am willing to overlook them for this trade,” I replied, almost breaking the refined lady-like demeanor façade. “I will make something for you, on two conditions.”

“Hagash let Ari live in bottom cave. What else?”

“I want your forearm.” He began bristling immediately so I raised my voice. “If I am not mistaken, Trolls are extremely tough. You can even grow back limbs, yes?”

“Too much! Hagash no like deal!” he roared, almost reaching for his club again.

“Pity. Then you won’t see what else I could make for you. Something only a strong Troll like Hagash could use.” I sighed, unperturbed outwardly. Inwardly, shit, shit, shit, shit.

He paused.

“Hagash strong.”

“And to show you, I will take off your arm with it. Don’t worry,” I waved dismissively, “I have command over the other magickys, as you call them. I will promise to not use fire and use my power to heal you afterwards.”

“Ari new. Hagash say shirt first. Then wait, know Ari more,” the Troll counteroffered with a curious leer. “How Ari know Troll grow back arm?”

“Like I said, I’ve been asleep for a long time,” I replied coolly with a faint smirk. “Imagine how long I was awake before then if I could make a tunnel appear from solid rock.”

Cue the concerned and mystified gaze of uncertainty from my opponent.

Fuck yeah, mysterious stranger status achieved. I wish I had an actual achievement tracker for this sort of stuff, but it might be super immersion breaking.

My spinnerets heard the subconscious desire to produce new coils of silk. My eyes looked over the Troll and began making measurements, adjusting seams, accounting for his posture.

“Why Ari want Hagash arm?”

“If you’ll excuse me, I do not want to harm you on accident,” I replied with a quiet smile. Slowly taking out the ??? prototype from earlier, it seemed I piqued his curiosity.

Guarded, I kept my blades crossed and downwards close to my waist. Rising slightly, tarsi tip-tapping backwards and to the side, I made a straight shot between me and my target dummy. Hagash for his credit only tensed his fingers while locked onto my gaze.

No handle on my length of ??? ribbon, I had to wrap it around and round my hand to get enough of a grip. Its stray threads were tucked within the last third of it, sheathed in such a way I just had to will them to let the threads loose. To an outward observer, the ‘sewn’ pockets looked like something to give the ribbon streamer some structure as it twirled.

Experimentally I tried to conjure up a circle in the air, flicking and turning my wrist away from the Troll as he watched in confusion. Attention captured at the very least, I was suffering from a little performance anxiety.

I snapped the long ribbon toward the sliced club. I mentally commanded the silk to release the processed Bladeweaver thread. It didn’t go as far as I wanted, nor did it come close to wrapping around, but the multiple viol string-sized fibers did release in the flashy way I wanted between revolutions.

First attempt ruined, had to drag it back to me while holding my head high and keep aloof. A quick snap of a faint purple put it back in its ‘safe’ form, the roughshod quality ribbon hiding the threads inside itself, slipping over our battlefield harmlessly.

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath, frustrated but also wary of Hagash sensing weakness. We were still in combat after all, despite negotiations.

Looks like I had to rely on that extra martial prowess.

Twirling the coiled ribbon dancer streamer over my human half, I focused my will on snipping the tiny pocket seams holding the Bladeweaver threads. One by one they started to join the momentum of the half-finished ribbon dancer’s wand. Unfamiliar with the act and also really, really getting an understanding of why there was a stick to help with this in the first place, I grit my teeth in concentration. Focused on the giant piece of wood standing half the room away.

“Lash!” was my command, a little more provincial in exasperation than the thin upper crust persona.

Casting the heavy ribbon outwards, it encircled the top half of the club as it sat innocently behind him. Wrapping around three or four times, the dozens of threads one by one found purchase in its bark.

Looking over to Hagash with a smile, I tugged my wrist with about as much force as I’d need to heel a small dog.

+Relationship improved with Hagash, level twenty: hostile to very cautious.+

All that was left was a messy pile of varying sized wood blocks that were fit for kindling and not much else, my Bladeweaver threads having sawed through the thing with loud rasps and cracks.

“So, that’s why I’m interested in your arm!” was my concluding thought, looping my trusty ??? ribbon around my elbow like a cable. Arachne silk telekinesis fuckery put the threads back into their hidden state. “I need something very strong as a handle for this.”

“Hagash understand. Need good bone, make weapon. Wand,” he corrected, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. “Ari make Hagash deal, Hagash help make wand. Not Hagash arm, Trolls that not like Hagash.”

“Alright, Hagash,” I replied happily, putting the deadly incomplete dancing implement back inside my hoodie pocket. I wonder if I could enchant it to become a portable hole or magic bag. “You have a deal.”

Getting up and meeting me, I was surprised that he was the one who offered his hand first. I had expected that the Earthling gesture didn’t exist.

+Encounter end.+

“Right, now I need to take your measurements. What sort of shirt would you like?” I asked innocently after we shook over our arrangement.

“Mhrrm,” the Troll pointed at my chest and then the sweater pocket. “Hagash like this one.”

“Really?” I cocked my head. “The first one is free. Another is a different deal.”

“Hagash know. Hagash still like this, and, ehrm, this,” he persisted, then used his finger to lightly tap on my hood. I found it hilarious that he was also avoiding my hair like the plague. Too similar to the thin silvery strands for his tastes.

“Do you want sleeves as well?” Pinching his hand and extending his arm. “Else, a fine Troll like yourself might want to keep his mighty arms on display without them.”

The gears were turning. After a few seconds he saw the wisdom of my words, smiling crookedly. Good. Less material for me. The guy was already huge enough as is without any other alterations.

“Excellent. Last but not least, I can’t make any other colors than my natural one. Unless you know of some berries or dyes, it will look like mine.”

“Hagash need new stick anyways. Hagash find red beet. Brings out Hagash eyes,” he said with a blank stare.

Did he…

Did he just make a joke?

He must have seen the strange look on my face as he began laughing jovially. I joined in with a sensible chuckle. The air seemed to clear even further.

“Hagash, you continue to impress,” I admitted, feeling my spinnerets put on the finishing touches. Next came the actual shaping of the silk, but maybe I could do that on the move. “Do you mind if I come with you? I’ve yet to explore outside.”

“Eh? Ari not make shirt first?”

Shuffling the brand-new butt rope forward, I closed a fist to wreathe the faintly glimmering silk in my violet hued magic. Weird, the raw material was more of an overt peach this time around before being worked. No matter.

There was enough benefit of the doubt that Hagash let me waggle my fingers around, ethereal mauve Clothier tools dinking around. Measuring tapes, scissors, needle and thread, loom, half expected a sewing machine at this rate. My eyes opened as the finished product floated in midair.

+Clothier skill improved. Schematic variant created. Sleeveless hooded tunic, Arachne silk, produced.+

“Complete with pocket.” Releasing my fist, the article of clothing fell into his outstretched hand. “It has a weak enchantment that will help make it fit as tight or loose as you want.”

Slipping the garment over his chest, I had the unsettling chill down my spine that the challenge rating of the creature in front of me had changed. Not in my favor. If he was some sort of NPC AI governed by ratios and numbers that saw this and would go back on his words, attack with the new advantage, I was screwed. Tried my best to keep a straight face, merely analytical with a finger tapping on my cheek awaiting his verdict.

“Mhrrn.”

Orange music notes were here and there, though they took on a rougher appearance. Not crude. Not big and bold. Stylized. Tribal was the word that came to mind. The wide and wild notes mixing together with sharp accents, little drums around bonfires.

“Hagash like.”

He put his hands inside the front pocket and pushed outwards. The Troll was childishly seeing how far it could stretch.

“Naturally,” I sniffed haughtily. Aloof aristocratic appearances had to be kept. Like I was forgotten nobility or something, above the bourgeois, almost even insulted that he wouldn’t enjoy my work.

Inside my own head, I breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. Probably just grew a million gray hairs. Maybe my chitin was flaking off with early onset old age. Do I shed? I hope I didn’t have to shed or molt. That’d be an annoying thing every few days or weeks to deal with.

+Relationship improved with Hagash, level twenty: very cautious to less very cautious.+

Oh, how descriptive World! That was fast. But, might not be such a feat. I asked the guy for his arm on the basis of assuming he could grow one back. However, given a big ask and something relatively smaller, most people would choose the smaller thing out of shock. That worked in my favor a ton for this deal. Also, this was a practical test of Monstrous diplomacy.

And I possibly gained an acquaintance out of this!

Still, stroking his ego and being respectful of his prior claim also assisted in smoothing things over. Barely holding my own over lack of experience was jarring, but calling him out on using cheap shots through stealth even I couldn’t see through did enough to make a pause in the fight. Plus, he really didn’t like seeing fire. Maybe the one chink in his perfect armor to exploit if it came down to it.

“Good, good shirt. Feel like stop claws,” Hagash grunted, nodding in approval as he smoothed over the fine silk. “Hagash feel odd. Shirt smell odd.”

“Oh, ohoh, don’t worry about that part, it won’t hurt you,” I quickly chuckled. “It washes off after a few times. Kill a few enemies and their blood will cover the scent, I have no doubt.”

Ari have much doubt.

Goddammit, the H-game resin must affect him ever so slightly. Just enough to sense something off. A horny Troll was the last thing on my laundry list of shit I wanted to deal with.

Actually.

Well.

I giggled.

A horny Troll. Hilarious image.

An actual Troll and not some anon creeper trying to get into my pants. Pretending to be someone they weren’t until true colors were shown, playing with my feelings and stringing me along with fancy words and what I learned were empty promises. Asking me for favors. All for their own sick amusement. I almost thanked the universe back then when making ends meet meant no more time for games, no more time for internet chat rooms, no more time for heartbreaking. No more reminders of being alone and staying alone.

Being reminded of a friend. What happened to her. What she did.

No, I didn’t need to think about that. The giggling fit ended as I felt moisture at the edge of my eye.

“Ari okay?” Hagash inquired, surprisingly a little worried.

“Mhmm? Oh. Yes. Just remembering someone I considered a sister and happy days before the fall,” I stretched the truth, attempting to casually wipe the tear away. “It’s nothing.”

“Nhnn,” he replied, thoughtfully cocking his head. Then began walking towards the intersection, turning toward assumedly the exit. “Is morning. We go find stick. Red beet.”

“Yes, let’s. If you would kindly lead the way?”

+Would you like to form a warband with Hagash, level twenty elite Troll? Y/N+

Warband? That seemed a little strong for a word equivalent to party. Then again, I was playing from the Monstrous side of things and not as a typical weakling player race.

Hagash paused. Gave me a strange look.

“Ari able make pack promise?”

“Pardon?” I replied.

“Pack promise. Old, old, an-cheen magicky. No fight, only fight others, share shinies with pack leader.”

“This is something not known in… this… age?” I flubbed the roleplay vernacular, genuinely confused. There was being in character, then there was being confused as all get out.

On top of that, I know Newbie said I was the first and only player here, but I couldn’t help but think that Hagash here might be one of those reincarnated slate souls that got rewritten. Maybe he was a Troll sometime somewhere else. Maybe he was someone else that got turned into Hagash the elite level twenty nice guy.

“Hagash wish have pack promise. Make tribe like Hagash because Hagash strongest,” he responds with a fair degree of anger. Not directed at me, thankfully, but I had some idea who he was wanting revenge on now. “Tribe force Hagash out. Hagash alone, make nice cave, make ter-terry long time.”

He sighed, loosening his grip on his broken weapon while letting it twirl on its end.

“Fight alone. Fight off tribe, alone.”

This is their reality.

Not artificial constructs.

My limbs carried me over to him and I carefully extended my hand. My fingers touched his shoulder, bringing him out of the reverie.

+Warband created, led by Arachne Queen aspirant Arienna Kestalennetti in Wanderer stance. Added: Hagash, elite Troll level twenty.+

“Well, for as long as I am guest in your home, I shall share my an-sheen magicky as well.”

He looked up at me in shock. There was some sort of aura that moved over him, a badge resembling a four-pointed star of regal amethyst rimmed with deep amber appearing on his chest. Over his heart, I imagine.

Cocking my head slightly so one of my six eyes could look down at my body, the same symbol appeared but hung around my neck like an epic level amulet you see in the endgame.

+Relationship improved with Hagash, level twenty: less very cautious to neutral.+

Hagash grinned a wide, crooked smile with those charming tusks of his.

“After you,” I dismissively urged in character, giving Mister Rat scritches behind the ears and moving his bundle closer to my front left legs behind the blade limb for protection. There were even a few muffled chirps as he closed his eyes. Well, maybe that deserved taking the silk gag off so he could breathe a little more and act cute.

I like making friends.

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