After unlocking Death’s Scream, Arn headed home to change into his older travel clothing, which was thankfully no longer ridiculously tight. He loaded a backpack full of bread, cheese and jerky to deal with the inevitably overwhelming post-regeneration hunger. Heading out, Arn found Taya and Mara already waiting at the training field. They were displeased.

Taya was normally a pale freckled blond, but at the moment her face was red and blotchy, and her gaping mouth uncomfortably reminded Arn of a warg. “Is this a bloody joke??? You’ll be on the forest floor, alone, with a warg pack tearing into you for probably a full minute, maybe more. AND YOU ARE A FLIPPING LEVEL 2 NOT WEARING ANY ARMOR! You can’t do that without dying, plain and simple, I don’t care what class you have.”

Arn waited. Taya continued her rant, “well???! Are you going do defend this madness?” Arn nodded. “Sorry, was just making sure you were done.” At that, Mara chimed in, “is dying a joke to you Arn? Are you that stupid?”

Arn sighed. “No. Do you think Elder Dannis is? Do you want me to explain his thinking, or would you prefer I stand here for another five minutes while you two keep ranting. Wait, don’t answer that, I’m sorry. Truly. At least a little. Let me explain, and you’ll understand why I’m a little snippy about this whole thing ok?” Arn started at the beginning, leaving nothing out, from the wargs, to dying twice, to his class abilities and skills. “So you see, its fine if I die. Swell even. Just another day, killed by wargs again, ho hum. Maybe I’ll go for the record. Just as long as you don’t let them rip off my head. Doable right?”

Taya sputtered, “so you are volunteering to be . . . eaten? That’s insane!” Arn smiled, “well, partially eaten. Completely could be a problem. And yes, it is insane, isn’t it? Well, try having rocks thrown at you for a week, being group-stabbed by the village children and running., lifting and fighting while covered in blood and puke every single day for a week and let me know if you are still sane. Look if we had metal armor in my size I would wear it. We don’t. Leather armor is just going to get shredded. I’ll use my stun, Death’s Scream, my shield and my sword to try and buy you time. I’m not totally helpless. Maybe I won’t die, what a sweet surprise that would be.”

Taya paused, looking thoughtful. “Ok, ok, I apologize for going off like that, sounds like you’ve been through a nightmare week, but doesn’t there have to be a better way?” Arn smiled bitterly, “Elder Dannis assures me that I’m meant for this. Legendary classes can be slow to level, and I gain more experience while badly injured you see. Combine that with the regeneration, and … presto, warg bait. Hoo, ah, the power and the glory! I’m on my way to greatness for sure, right? Just promise me you won’t tell this story when I’m considered a Titan.”

Mara interrupted. “Ok, ok, I’m glad your taking it so well. And we get it. Tell us about that skill. How many wargs will it stun for how long?” Arn paused to reflect. “Um, I have no idea. The description is really vague, and I…uh, just unlocked it before I came over.”

Taya’s agitation returned faster than a charging knight, “WHAT! ? Who the heck is training you? This is NUTS.” Arn sighed yet again and explained, “the Elder wanted me to wait. Better focus on dodging rocks I guess. Maybe he was afraid I would Scream at the little tykes. Probably would have too. Did I tell you the little bastards actually started singing while stabbing me? Eh, I don’t really know why we waited, but . . . I’m more than willing to Scream at you now. Purely for learning purposes of course, no pent up rage here. Nope, none…”

Mara laughed, “ok, its official, you are nuts. I’m level 9, the scream might not do anything, but lets find out what we are dealing with. Fire away!” Taya hurriedly stepped to the side. Arn thought about activating the skill, but nothing happened. He tried shouting, “Death’s Scream,” after which Mara looked at him like he had two heads. “Try actually screaming while thinking about activating the skill. Or dying, that was in the description you read to us right? Think about dying while scream...”

A piercing unnatural wail ripped from Arn’s throat. It filled the training field like a physical weight, and seemed to go on for an eternity. Runners tripped, and weight lifters paused mid-motion. When it eventually stopped, it felt to Taya like the horror of death was a tangible thing still all around her; she shook her head and it faded. Mara, the target, remained rigid, white as a sheet and glistening with sweat as Arn silently counted. On 3, Mara stuttered, “that…that was…I just can’t…it was…uh…maybe like being buried in a coffin with your mother’s rotting corpse in your face while you run out of air.”

Arn smiled. “Welcome to my world. Still, the stun was a smidge less than three seconds. Kind of disappointing…” Taya interjected, “Arn, Arn, you have no flipping clue! You are level 2 using a level 1 skill, she is level 9! This thing works at range, Maya was what, four feet away, and from the description it affects all targets in range. That is a GREAT skill! What is the cost/cool down again?”

Arn mentally reviewed the description. “No cool down. It costs stamina, doesn’t say how much, and stamina is a hidden stat, but I know it’s related to constitution, which I get a lot of. It also says that targets are less impacted by each repeated use.” Mara clapped her hands and laughed, “no cool down! Arn, that’s a winner! If all your skills turn out that strong, you won’t be Mister Bait forever.” She paused. “But skills that cost stamina are no joke. Don’t go overboard with it until you test it more or you’ll be too tired to lift your sword.”

With that, they headed into the forest and the two young women’s demeanor instantly changed. Although only a few years older than Arn, both seemed every inch real hunters, silently slinking through the forest constantly alert. Both had long knives drawn, so Arn took the hint and unlimbered his father’s sword and shield. Nothing fancy – his father was a master carpenter, not a fighter. With his size and burdens, Arn had some trouble moving quietly in spots on the tighter game trails, earning the occasional nasty look. After Arn’s efforts at conversation were shut down, the group walked in silence for a few hours, following small game trails until they reached a large clearing.

“We are here. Let us get settled up there, then open the bait bag and splash the contents around. We think this is pretty close to the center of their territory, so it will probably be today,” Mara instructed. Arn scowled, “I’m going to eat my lunch before I splash blood and guts around thanks.” Mara gave him a stern look, “if we get caught here after sundown, we are all dead. The permanent kind. Shove some food in your mouth if you have to, but be quick about it.”

Arn sighed, sheathed his sword, put his shield down, and slipped out of his backpack. He took the bait bag out, pleased that it had stayed closed and not stained anything, and grabbed a handful of jerky. “Um, Heaven! I just love the jerky Miss Marissa makes its…” A vaguely seen grey blur smashed into Arn’s side, staggering him.