The next morning, I wake up falling. I’m at such a height that below me is a carpet of whiteness, and I can see the stars above me, even though it’s day.
Oh. It’s one of those days. Sure, I’ll enjoy myself for a bit.
Feeling the wind lashing against my face and hands as my altitude plummets, I twist my body, sending me into an uncontrollable tumble through the air.
Were another being looking upon me, they would feel that the sight was wholly ridiculous. But I am in the upper regions of the planet’s atmosphere, so there isn’t even a bird flying by to witness me.
Despite plummeting at terminal velocity with zero safety equipment and the gale force winds buffeting me, I am quite enjoying myself. Perhaps this would be strange to normal people. While they would be struggling with their impending death, I spread my arms and laugh as earth and sky spin, end over end, endlessly.
The pain… ah, the pain. Normal people might be screaming as their body heats up from the air resistance, developing friction burns on exposed skin as they desperately go spread-eagled to reduce their speed.
My smile, couldn’t be wider as I tuck in my arms and legs, shooting towards the ground at the fastest possible speed as fire burns on and around me.
It’s because of who I am; or perhaps some would say, what I am, that I am this way. Pain, to others, is a thing to be avoided. To be feared. It means that something is terribly wrong.
It means that you are wounded. That you are sick. Someone close has passed away. A realisation that your life will be somewhat inhibited until the pain is gone again.
It is the mark of a mistake, an accident, something wholly and utterly beyond your control. And thus, they fear. Some, I know, fight through the pain. Some use it to propel themselves further.
They would say to themselves, ‘the pain is proof that I have become stronger, embrace it’, or ‘the pain will not overcome me, for I am stronger than the pain’.
It speaks much of their courage that they think this way. But, in the end, pain represents weakness to mankind. It is because they are weak that they endure the pain, to become strong. They endure the pain, to maintain their strength. They endure the pain, to recover their lost strength.
I, never felt that. I never felt pain, unless I so chose. And even if I chose to hurt myself, the pain was a curious distraction. I remember ripping off my finger when I was young. Staring at the bloody stump, I felt the throbbing pain pulsing. But rather than alarming me, it confused me. ‘What was this strange feeling?’, I thought to myself.
It took me a few moments to realise that my subconscious was stupid. What did a finger matter? Or ANY part of my body, for that matter. In the end, I am not my flesh. Just because I inhabit it, why does my mind assume that it is essential to me?
My body is a tool that I wield, and the loss of a tool is a mere inconvenience.
Healing my finger, I ripped it off again, and my confusion deepened as my mind had the same reaction. Could my subconscious not tell it meant nothing to me? Repeating this for a while, the floor become scattered with indexes and blood. I cleared it all up, of course. After a while, pain became a joke to me. I laugh at it, smile when it comes, as if it is an old friend.
What is most amusing, is that it isn’t only me. It’s not like I am the only one who merely inhabits a body. As an astral projection, I am in essence a disembodied soul; and as such I could see the souls of others.
They are popping out all over the place, believe you me. And then they’ll pop off into some unborn child to start the fun again. No memories, of course, but still awfully attached to their so called ‘mortality’ when every one of them is functionally immortal.
Well, technically. They do lose their memories, so they aren’t precisely the same person, but they pretty much are.
Anyway, pain doesn’t bother me. Whether I am in pain or not, I don’t mind, not an ounce.
I wish you could say ‘not a gram’, but it doesn’t seem to work the same way.
Oh, and this time, all this thinking was done with my main mind, meaning… I was about to hit the ground.
Here comes the fun part.
Breaking out of my pin drop, I do a few front flips before stylishly landing nonchalantly with straight legs and crossed arms.
Upon touch-down, my feet cleave through the rocky ground, the impact radiating through the earth around me and forming a crater.
The sound created by the impact is louder than artillery shells exploding, and about as devastating. A shockwave expands, with me at the epicentre. Were there trees nearby, they would be stripped of their leaves and smaller branches. As it is, small pebbles blast outwards like grapeshot, creating countless smaller impacts.
Meanwhile, I am still standing there, knees unbent, calm and collected.
Then the rock beneath me vanishes.
And I begin plummeting again.
Looking down at the dull glow below me causes a realisation that I had landed on the lip of an active volcano.
Oh well, I needed a bath.
…Or so I said, but you can’t really bathe in lava. Unless it’s at a crazy high temperature, the stuff is pretty slow flowing, so you would just slowly form a depression in it. Sure, you would eventually sink into it, but it would be like bathing in fresh concrete.
Which means, even if you have some sort of fire immunity, bathing in lava is a no-go.
Only if being fully encased in heavy molten stone hinders you as little as flowing water can you bathe in it.
Or, in other words, be me.
But I don’t really have time for this. But I do. But I was enjoying myself back there, so I disconnect from this clone, which promptly vanishes into thin air.
I get up from my bed, although I’m using that term very loosely here, back at the inn.
Well, that was a strange dream. Perhaps the strangest part about it was how casual I was. Well, you always act differently in a dream.
Getting my gear together, I board up the window, lock the door and head out again.
…In this manner, two months pass by before I know it.
“What do you mean everyone knows how to do it?”
The man gesticulates wildly to indicate his displeasure to a man nearly half his size. If not for the neatly braided beard descending from the rough cheeks of this diminutive fellow, as well as his thick, stocky limbs, one might mistake a being of his particular stature for a child. As it is, these features visibly marked him for what he was – A dwarf, strong and proud.
“I mean,” the dwarf explains, exasperated, “Every kid and his little sister knows how to do mana reinforcement. For you not to know that, were you living under a rock?” He grins up at the man to let the irony of that statement sink in.
While dwarven cities are rarely completely underground, it is widely known that large portions of their cities are situated below the earth, and many dwarves spend most of their time in workshops, dwellings and mines underground.
The man hangs his head in shame, no excuse forthcoming. The dwarf sighs in resignation, then begins to talk very slowly, as if teaching a child.
“Yeh get some mana, aye? Yeh done that? Yes? Now move it to yeh heart – yeh other heart, Aaron. Now yeh just let it go. And that’s it. Aye, that’s it.”
Aaron’s face falls, visibly depressed, for the first time feeling terribly inadequate.
From within the trees surrounding them a third voice comes, interrupting their dialogue.
“Oi! Can I get some help over here!? Dealing with these wolves on my own, yeh know!”
In a panic, they both rush back into the combat. The simple question, ‘how are you moving so fast with such short legs’, had caused a very distracting conversation, but their other companion is fending off a small pack of wolves by himself. He is understandably dissatisfied with this arrangement.
Unfortunately for them, the wolves had attacked as they moved through the forest. What’s worse is that there is even an ironback alpha leading the pack. An ironback alpha is more intelligent than its more common relatives, even if it can’t compare to species such as humans, dwarves or elves. But with its limited intelligence, the ironback alpha leads the other wolves in coordinated attacks against the party of three, weaving in and out of the trees in the dim light.
It’s a wonder that Aaron and the dwarf had managed to pause for their conversation without being attacked. Perhaps the beasts had felt that focusing on one person would be a better tactic, but they won’t be able to tell you. It is beyond rare to encounter a monster capable of speech.
As the wolves come into view of the strange pair, the reason the third member of the party was able to hold out becomes clear. Stationed in front of a short silhouette is a rectangular barrier taller than himself. Curved around the left and right sides and made entirely of metal, one could say that its size is smaller than a normal one, but it is nevertheless a bonafide tower shield.
At that moment, two wolves dart at him from either side of the tower shield in a classic pincer manoeuvre. Aaron and the other dwarf aren’t close enough to block them, and even Aaron’s magic isn’t nearly fast enough to intercept the wolves, less than half a meter from biting into the second dwarf.
“RRAAAAAAAARGH!!”
Shifting his feet into a firm stance, the dwarf lets out a powerful bellow. Sweeping his shield arm to one side, the shield’s edge cleaves into the neck of one of the wolves, killing it instantly. Simultaneously, his other arm whips downwards, hand grasping the haft of his weapon with an iron grip.
With a sickening crunch of breaking bones, the other wolf is nailed to the ground, the handle end of a gleaming metal spike protruding from its skull. With a grunt, he unsheathes his weapon from the wolf’s skull, revealing his weapon in all its bloody glory: Thick shaft extending for a good half meter, the end of which has a narrow hammerhead affixed to one side of it. The other side is a wickedly sharp, slightly curved spike.
While his movement had defeated the two attacking wolves in a stunning display of physical prowess, it has left him entirely open to frontal attacks. Capitalising on this opportunity, another wolf charges at the gap in his defences.
It is sent suddenly flying to one side as another dwarf charges through the space it was previously occupying, holding a tower shield before him as he personifies a moving wall - albeit a short one. He moves much faster than one expects from one carrying a heavy tower shield, especially a person with such short legs, muscled though they are. His speed is courtesy of mana coursing through his veins, increasing his strength.
With two wolves dead and one knocked unconscious from the impact, a portion of the wolf pack is obliterated. At this point, Aaron finally wades into the fight. Unlike his combats in the past, he doesn’t utilise his potent magic at all. Relying solely on his sturdy blade, he slashes and stabs at necks, legs or anything else that happens to be an easy target.
The two months passed also means two more months of training. While Aaron’s muscles aren’t ‘bulging’ by anyone’s definition, they are now well defined and clearly visible – presuming you are looking at him without his shirt on. Furthermore, it means two more months of experience fighting wolves.
To clarify, wolves aren’t very tough opponents in the first place. All they have going for them is some speed, a form that’s low to the ground, and a pack mentality. Their attacks aren’t complicated; they fight with no plans or strategies. Coordination is simple, if not non-existent. While it isn’t to the extent that a child could beat one if they had a weapon, a fit adult with some fighting experience could probably defeat one or two, even unarmed.
Especially considering the mana reinforcement that Aaron has only just learnt.
But still, they attack with ferocity, and if one hasn’t fought with beasts before, their different shape and size, in comparison to a human opponent, can throw off even a well-trained fighter. But, having hunted them almost every day for the past two months, Aaron has gotten completely used to their attack patterns and habits.
Soon enough, it is just the ironback alpha remaining. Its appearance is distinctive from the common wolves. While the fur of a normal wolf are varying shades of greys and black, the fur of the ironback alpha is silver, and the fur on its back has a metallic shine. Aaron hacks down at it, but the wolf is true to its name, and the blade only makes a shallow cut in the tough hide.
The beast doesn’t even flinch as it leaps up to claw his chest. It isn’t only the back that’s hard on this beast; its claws and fangs are harder than normal, as well as having better jaw strength, so Aaron is in serious danger from this attack. And having just attacked something at a much lower height than himself, his balance is disturbed; it will be difficult for him to dodge or retreat in this position.
Luckily for him, he doesn’t have to. Such is the value of parties.
One of the dwarves’ tower shields shifts in front of him, a firm nudge pushing him to the side as the dwarf in question takes the full force of the attack. The claws of the wolf screech against the metal, seeking to tear through it and into the being behind it. But the shield was forged by dwarven blacksmiths, and it can take harder hits with nary a scratch.
As the alpha wolf clashes with the shield, the dwarf holding it barely budges, his firm stance doing him wonders. Meanwhile, the other dwarf isn’t standing idle. A shadow looms behind the wolf sporting a fearsome grin and swings his weapon across at the wolf as it lands, hammer head first.
With a yelp, the wolf is sent staggering sideways, and can do nothing but watch the instrument of its demise come piercing down at its head.
Having greater weight, a smaller point of contact and greater momentum in the form of the military pick, the descending spike pierces through the skull of the wolf. The life in its eyes fade, dead instantly from the attack.
The trio relaxes. The battle is over, and they are the victors. All that is left now is to collect the spoils. As such, they start skinning the wolves. Without looking away from his work, Aaron speaks.
“Thanks for the save back there. I would’ve taken some serious damage from that if you hadn’t blocked it.”
One of the dwarves looks up from his work and flashes him a toothy grin.
“Don’t worry yourself over it. It’s what we do.”
Aaron pauses as he considered his next sentence.
“Actually… I’m terribly sorry if this offends you, but how do I tell you two apart?”
This time, both turn and give him toothy grins. Identical, toothy grins. Sported on rough, identical faces. With grey and braided, identical beards.
Now, either everyone in the dwarven race is identical, or these guys are identical twins.
Luckily for merchants and diplomats everywhere, it’s the latter. The face of one of the dwarves falls in mock hurt.
“Yeh mean yeh can’t tell? After all the time we’ve known each other?”
He wipes a tear from the corner of a perfectly dry – barring the normal, healthy moisture – eye. The other twin interrupts his melodrama.
“Don’t worry, we get asked that all the time. There’s a couple ways, but easiest,” He points at his cheek, where there was a prominent line a few shades lighter than the rest of his skin.
“Would be this scar. If the dwarf yeh see, scarred on cheek, Jakin he be.”
Cutting in, his brother continues. “And if the cheek yeh see, unblemished and clean, Boaz is he.”
They chortle briefly. Simple though it is, it’s easy to tell that it isn’t the first time the twins have said those lines.
“Besides that, m’ brother is right handed, and I be left handed, so we carry the shield with different hands.” continues Jakin.
And indeed, as Aaron thinks back to the last few times he had worked with them, he realises that it is true, he just hadn’t picked up on it. This had made it somewhat awkward talking to them, as he hadn’t known whom he was addressing.
Aaron had met the twins a couple weeks back. Amusingly, they had wandered into his training cave, to see if there were any veins of ore to mine and sell for some quick cash. Instead, they found a man doing squats while holding a large rock.
Aaron, as interested in the dwarven race as any other in his position would be, struck up a conversation with the dwarves. His habit of constantly training with no regard for his own well-being seemed to somehow resonate with the inherent stubbornness of the dwarves, and they became good friends very quickly.
Later, the twins were astonished to discover that he had dual affinities of fire and earth. Their opinions of him instantly rose a few notches. To fully understand this, it must be known that dwarves, as a race, have higher regard for some affinities than others. There are six in particularly that they particularly appreciate.
Holy, of course, is useful whoever you are and whatever you do.
As a race that spends much of their time underground, they have a deep respect for earth. In dwarven society, those gifted with earth affinity often become famous architects, miners, stonemasons and the like. No dwarf would dare waste such a blessing.
And obviously, having such renowned blacksmiths, their love of the fire affinity is no less than their love of earth. Control over fire and flame is a great contribution to any blacksmith. Almost without fail, a dwarf with fire affinity becomes a blacksmith.
Along the same train of thought, lava affinity is also well received among blacksmiths. More heat means they could forge more metals, after all, although more heat is not always the best heat.
Finally, the last two, water and ice. One might think this strange, given the nature of the other affinities dwarves love. However, one must remember that after forging a blade, it must be quenched. And temperature control is important for blacksmiths as well.
In fact, the greatest dwarven blacksmith in recorded history had both lava and ice affinities.
Thus, it didn’t take long for the twins, also adventurers, to propose forming a party with Aaron, which he gladly accepted.
Back in the present, they have finished skinning the wolves without incident. The hide of the ironback alpha is the prize of this hunt. The combination of its toughness and flexibility makes it a highly sought-after material for armour and cloaks for archers and… others… who favour agility over protection.
But this isn’t the end of their day, not at all. While twelve wolf hides would have been a cumbersome load for Aaron alone, forcing him to return to town, with the hides distributed evenly between the three they are able to continue, relatively unhindered by the weight.
It’s for times like this that Aaron trains wearing a full knapsack in the first place. The party heads deeper into the forest in search for harder enemies – and epic loot.
Well, maybe not epic. But something worth a bit of cash, perhaps.
