The rain outside was pouring down, only to be obstructed by the roofs, where the water gathered in a sheet of water that streamed down the shingles, only to pour down in multiple streams ending in a graceful arc from the rounded corners of the shingles, on the street below.

There it splashed in the large stream that had formed in the street, flushing all debris, trash, manure down the cobbled street. The drains to the sewer couldn’t handle it all, so it continued the way down the street before vanishing from view, slowly dragging the heavier trash downstream.

Mereah took a sip from her ale as she languidly watched the display from the comfort of a covered terrace. A few other patrons were sitting about, enjoying the dryness of the terrace, and a patron moving from table to table good-naturedly chatting a bit. The sound of the water was soothing, and it was relaxing to watch the trash slowly being dragged down. She pitied the people where the trash would inevitability collect, and had to live with a pile of dung and trash near their house until it would be cleaned up.

“Your turn.”

With a sigh, she turned away from the relaxing view to study the board they were playing on. Flut had moved his archer, to protect his well from her knight. She folded her hands under her chin and took in the current situation of the board.

If he moved his knight near the archer, she wouldn’t be able to take a shot at capturing his well. If she moved to take his Manor she would have to defeat his peasants that were positioned near the fields.

She considered moving her peasants and knight to capture his fields. If she had access to his fields she would be able to afford a second knight. But first, she would need to force his hand so he would go and defend his archer. But if she did that he might be able to capture her well with his knight and priest, which would give her a peasant revolt and a lack of income in three turns if she didn’t recapture it.

After taking another look, she decided the payoff was worth the risk, and moved her knight closer to the well to a position she could either attack the archer or move through to the manor, or a hasty retreat to a supporting position for her peasants when needed.

He could either attack her with a long-ranged attack for a minor chance of causing harm or move his knight in defense.

“Your turn,” She said with a smirk.

“I see that.”

Flut took a sip of ale as he studied the board in front of them. She considered how he would react to her strategy if she would be able to complete the maneuver she was working towards. As his forehead frowned more, he studied the board more intensely, waving with his fingers over it, drawing out strategies only he understood, she turned back to watch the water.

It had been raining for four hours now, and there was no end in sight for the downpour from the heavens. The trash she saw crawling down the street must have already traveled a considerable distance, down the streets of the city.

When these rains would be over the city would be considerably cleaner than it had been for a long time. A rider on horseback, face indiscernible in his hood, bent forward against the rain traveled upstream through the water, the water making wild currents around the hooves of the horse. The horse seemed lackluster in enthusiasm to walk through the water and the pouring rain. Of the two she wondered who was the most miserable, as they passed by the covered terrace where they were playing their game of feud.

“Are you nervous about the mission when the rains stop?”

Flut shrugged indifferently whilst keeping his eyes fixed on the board, shifting from one piece to position to another piece.

“We’re stronger than goblins due to our size, we have armor, sharp swords, knives, and shields. They only have claws and ugly faces. I don’t see any problems there.”

“But we don’t even know how many goblins are there, which levels they have and what they can do. We will attack an enemy fortress without scouting it out first.”

“Pah, fortress, it's a slum in the sewers. Goblins are historically known to be cowards and pushovers, even the higher leveled ones, and for those we can’t handle, we have Nimra with us.”

“I guess you’re right, I just have an eerie feeling about it, as if things are about to go wrong.”

Flut moved his knight towards his manor, which confused her greatly, what was he going to do, what had she missed?

“Feelings are good and all Mer, but it was Nimra’s decision. There will be healers and the plan was developed by him. I just choose to trust in his strategy. We wouldn’t be going down there if he would think we couldn’t handle it.”

Nodding absently at his words she studied the situation now. He had goaded her purposefully towards his well and was now trying to goad her towards taking the badly defended well.

Her old strategy could still work, but he was up to something. He might have suspected her plans and come up with a trap. His move certainly seemed to suggest so, or he was trying to force her to not take the well thinking it was a trap.

“I was first pumped up on going down, and frustrated that it was being canceled at the last moment, but after spending some time here, I just can’t help wondering if we aren’t rushing things. There are so many unknown variables after all.”

“We have no means to look beyond it though, it wasn’t as if those goblins were walking in and out of there and allowed themselves to be counted and assessed, it seemed as if they felt mighty fine just sitting there.”

She eyed what lay between her knight and the well and what would be in reach if she would take the well. His archer would be able to get a defense shot and normal shot off in a defender's volley. If those both hit her knight he would be able to take her knight down, but those chances were slim as archers had a disadvantage to mounted pieces.

Taking the rest of the board into account, looking for possibilities of a trap. As she was taking a glance at his resources she suddenly understood. He had enough materials to be able to build a tower in two turns, that would grant him two grunt soldiers. Those would be able to retake the well and defeat the weakened knight.

But if she moved her peasants to the fields, his archer would be able to take long-range shots at her knight, whittling him down, and he could build a tower near the fields. She would have to think of a counter to his strategy.

“I just wish his instructions were more than, tear down the wall and stab everything not human until it stops moving. Some actual strategy would have been nice for our first real mission.”

Flut was leaning back on his stool against a pillar, sipping his ale with a self-satisfied smile at her pondering over the situation on the board.

“I like it honestly, the less complicated the strategy, the less can go wrong.”

“Complicated is not your style eh? I can understand that coming from you.”

“Hey!” he replied indignantly.

She chuckled and moved her peasants from her fields towards her manor. That would halt food production, but she had enough stores for five turns. She would need three turns to build a barracks to be able to get the peasants upgraded to pikemen.

Just as she had finished her move the rains stopped, and soon the only sounds were those of roofs dripping and the water rushing down the street. Taking her mug up, she drained it in one go.

“I guess we’d better get back, I have a feeling we’ll be going down there soon, doing some simple stabbing.”

They cleared the board and put the pieces in their places in the box and returned the game to the patron, before setting foot in the water that was still rushing down the street, albeit less aggressively than before.

--------

Opening his eye he could see the bricks above his head, albeit out of focus. Focussing them was hard and gave him a headache, so he decided to settle on blurry. Slowly he became aware of more of his body and how it hurt all over. His back felt supported by something soft, and water was lapping at his knees. He vaguely remembered it being at nearly his face. The water must be receding, the rains on the surface had stopped. He had been scared that he would have drowned, but he was still alive to fight another day.

After lying there for a few moments, slowly regaining agonizing sensations in his body, he tried to recall everything that had happened to him. He remembered the struggling with drowning, with his bleeding with a shudder. That had been really close, too close for comfort.

He decided to call upon his status, to see how far his recovery was.

[You have leveled up]

[You have gained a class: Hunter]

[Class conflict due to active ritual]

[Your class was removed: Hunter]

[You have gained a class: Zealot]

[You have gained a skill: Burning Passion]

[You have gained a skill: Inspire]

[You have gained a class trait: Unrelenting]

[All stats +5]

[Removing race: goblin - minor]

[New race acquired: Goblin]

[ST +3]

[HP +1]

[Dexterity +7]

[Vigour +10]

[Ritual of reactivation progressed]

[Ritual 4 out of 4 started: Exercising judgment]

[Four days Fourteen hours remaining]

[Exercising judgment]

[Choose one of these options in the location of your choice]

[ - Puzzle]

[ - Nightmare]

[ - Vengeance]

[ - Death]

[ - Adventure]

[ - Eldritch]

[ - Mushroom]

[ - Slime]

[ - Carnivore]

[ - Trap]

[Host Mana +2]

[Host Health +2]

Reeling at the flood of messages he felt exhilarated at his progress. He had made it to level five! He had gained so many more traits and pools. He wondered what dexterity did. He hadn't heard any of the older goblins mention it before.

Quickly he checked his status summary to see how his stats had changed.

Crag

[Level 5] [Goblin] [Zealot]

[HP 17/240]

[MP 3/8]

[ST 1/28]

+[CH 10/15]

Stats:

[Vigour 10]

[Intelligence 6]

[Wisdom 7]

[Dexterity 7]

Traits:

[darkvision] [unrelenting]

Skills:

[spot] [pick] [minor carry] [minor identify] [track critter] [burning passion] [inspire]

Quests

Rituals

[Ritual of reactivation]

[Ritual 4 out of 4 started: Exercising judgment]

[Four days Fourteen hours remaining]

[Exercising judgment]

[Choose one of these options in the location of your choice]

[ - Puzzle]

[ - Nightmare]

[ - Vengeance]

[ - Death]

[ - Adventure]

[ - Eldritch]

[ - Mushroom]

[ - Slime]

[ - Carnivore]

[ - Trap]

Effects

[Starving] [Wounded - grievous] [Parched] [Debilitated]

He was overwhelmed by how long his status had become, instead of the simple status before, and how much information it contained now. A pounding headache was building up. This forced him to relax and let his mind wander before he could focus on what he had seen and read, let alone comprehend. The pounding headache became less, but so did his senses, his world turned black slowly, and panic gripped his heart as he desperately tried to remain awake, but he slid deeper into forgetfulness.

------

He awoke with a start, which was a bad idea, as all the pain in his body flared up at once. Groaning, he resisted the urge to curl up, which would have undoubtedly caused more pain.

After having recovered from the pain and being able to focus again he took a look at his health. Only seventeen points were recovered in this time. That should have been more shouldn’t it have? He didn’t know how long he had been lying here unconscious, but it should have been long enough that he would have recovered more health his gut told him.

He lay there a bit, keeping an eye on his health, but his vigil was interrupted by a painful pang in his stomach that made him gasp in pain, which flared up the wound in his chest. Cursing he regained control over the pain and pushed it to the background as good and well as he could.

He took a look at his status again and especially at his effects, focussing on each and every one, trying to learn what was holding up the healing process.

[Starving]

Your stomach is empty and it does not agree with it. Due to lack of sustenance, your body cannot restore itself or spend energy. Suffering from this condition for two weeks will result in death.

[Wounded - grievous]

Your body suffers from wounds that have left you on the brink of death. Disturbing your major wounds too much may result in instant death. Letting your stamina fall to zero will result in death.

[Parched]

Your body needs life-giving water to sustain itself. Without water, your body has trouble getting rid of toxins. Suffering from this condition for three days will result in death. Each hour you suffer from this condition the chance of experiencing hallucinations increases.

[Debilitated]

Due to the extreme circumstances, your body has been through and the over-expenditure of energy that your body did not have time to acclimatize to, you have exhausted all natural recovery means of your body. Your stamina will remain at 1 for three days so your body can heal.

“Ahri’s hairy sack!” he croaked through his parched throat in frustration.

His healing was stopped because he was hungry. He could not hunt because that would drop his stamina to zero, killing him, but if he remained lying here he would die of thirst. And he didn’t know how long he had been out of it, in this state.

A cold shiver ran up his back at the thought that he might be in his last hour right now! In a panic he looked around, grunting at the pain the movement of his head caused. He could only barely see out of one eye, and he had trouble focussing with it.

He was lying half-buried in the grease of the blockade where the rats had made their home, his back firmly suctioned in the mass of fat. The water was slightly under his feet now, so it was still emptying out of the sewer. If only he could get to the water safely, without spending too much energy so his stamina wouldn’t drop.

With a lot of effort, he lifted his leg as far as it could go, before letting it drop down carefully. He then attempted to lift his other leg, but it was too stuck. Carefully and slowly he lifted his one free leg to his stuck leg and used it to scrape the grease away around the other leg. It was a painful task, putting pressure on the many tiny wounds in his feet. It was very slow going, the grease he wiped away with his foot wouldn’t come off easily, and he didn’t have anything he could use to wipe the fat from his foot. Oh, and not to forget the pain each movement made, and every time his foot scraped over his torn skin it felt like he sent burning pieces of coal into his skin.

But eventually, after what seemed to be an agonizing eternity, his other leg was worked free.

He allowed his work leg to rest, as it was shaking with exhaustion. Deciding to give himself time to calm down and rest up as much as he could, so he wouldn’t risk dying of exhaustion because he had only one stamina point available. That would be extremely disappointing after all this effort.

He decided to study his status whilst he rested and to inspect his new race.

[Goblin]

The adult goblin is physically near indiscernible from a minor goblin. Only his behavior gives its maturity away, as a goblin has considerably more strength and agility than a minor goblin. Goblins live in tribes and their true strength lies in numbers. A goblin alone will prefer to stay in the shadows and to use traps and guile to overcome problems.

He was slightly disappointed his race change hadn’t given him something that would give him more an edge, more muscles, greater stature, lither body for speed and agility, but now he was still himself, a relatively small goblin. He did not pout at his fate, he was just considering things whilst exercising his painful face, definitely no pouting.

With a sigh, he decided he had rested enough and started to scoop the fat that buried his sides and back. It was slow going again because his left arm was still useless and he couldn’t move it properly, but through perseverance, strangle angles to carefully twist himself, and assisted by loud curses and yelps, he managed to whittle the fat away enough that he could move half of his back now.

Deciding he needed a new break because he was getting slightly winded and dizzy, he lay there looking at the blurry ceiling and deeper in the darkness of the tunnel. Red glowing eyes opened in the distance and looked at him. His eyes grew larger and he looked away and looked again, but the eyes were gone. Had that been real? Was the creature hidden, waiting to pounce? His heart was racing in his chest and his ear peeled for a possible sound from the tunnel. When after a few moments no sound originated from the spot, not even when he held his breath for a moment, he dared to relax a bit.

If that had been a hallucination it had been a good one. It had looked so real, but it also meant that his time was running out. Needing a distraction from this disturbing sight he decided to study his new skills.

[burning passion]

Your single conviction nature can erupt in passion for your goal. The greater your conviction the greater the effect. All stats are increased with the level of conviction.

[inspire]

Your convictions are infectious and you have no trouble convincing others to abandon their own beliefs and to follow your reasoning, making your reasoning their own justification.

If his race change was disappointing, these skills were even more disappointing. They served no real purpose he could see. He had been aiming for a hunter or gatherer class which would have provided some excellent skills, but it had been decided that he was not to be a hunter, but this useless class. Now he was a zealot, whatever kind of trash class that was. With a disappointed sigh, he called forth the description of the zealot class

[Zealot]

The zealot does not have many convictions, but a zealot is willing to sacrifice everything for its convictions. They are known to inspire revolts against established organizations, whipping up masses to follow the zealots' convictions. A zealot can surpass the boundaries of their bodies by their conviction, making them a dangerous foe.

Well, that was just great… he had a crowd control class, with no crowds to control. He was happy in his tribe, with no desire to topple any established orders there. The idea of stepping up against Bukr was ludicrous.

Shaking his head carefully at his horrible luck, he resumed scraping away the fat under his back and depositing it next to him with a flick of his hand to dislodge to stubborn sticky mass. His luck was just terrible.