4.13
“Honestly, I’ve found the best way to make friends is to laugh over the corpse of a mutual foe.” - Hasan Vashard the Lunar’s Edge.

 

“What do you mean we require a ‘party’!” a rough voice yelled from within.

 

A calmer voice answered, “It was in the…”

 

A different voice interrupted, but the tone was lower, so I couldn’t hear it properly.

 

“Sounded like an insult,” Noam supplied, hand falling to his ‘sword’, before quickly retracting as he remembered there was a spike on the hilt.

 

There was a low growl. The first voice.

 

God, why did it have to be so troublesome?

 

Noam glanced at me, then upwards towards Yellow. I shrugged. A conversation between us completed in a moment.

 

We could probably avoid a fight, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared. “On Noam,” I told Yellow as I present my finger as a perch, before depositing it on Noam's shoulder.

 

“Why Yellow?” Greenie asked as Yellow crawled onto a comfortable spot on Noam’s head.

 

“Yellow will be more useful with Noam,” I answered. Noam was an opportunist, he seized mistakes by the balls and never let them go. The ability to CC the opponent for even the slightest moment would work far better with him. I already had enough.

 

Noam patted the shroom on his head, “Watch my back Yellow.”

 

“Got it!”

 

“Hopefully you won’t need to act much,” I said to Greenie. It was mainly a damage dealer, if we were going for non-lethal then Greenie’s role should only be as a threat.

 

“Roo?” Noam asked.

 

“A bit of Poker as well,” I answered. We’ll run if things turn south like he suggested, but if we could observe then we should.

 

Noam pushed open the swinging doors of the hut, revealing a much larger space within. Briefly pinning the bigger on the inside than the outside shenanigans on magic, I walked in after Noam, into what appeared to be a standoff.

 

Twelve people inside, all of whom turned to stare at our interruption, I was, in turn, examining them. Two groups in a standoff, three people to the left, two to the right. Rest were spectators, milling along the fringes.

 

The left group consisted of a human, a lizard-like person with vibrant red scales and small horn-like protrusions on their temple, and one that was either a halfling or gnome. Her hand was on the hilt of a short sword, but her height made her range limited so she was a low threat until proven otherwise. The human was dressed like a normal fighter archetype, but the lizard looked most troublesome, handling a dark wood staff engraved in the shape of a dragon head.

 

The right group only had two, but they looked stronger. The one in front looked like a genetic engineer having a field day in creating an Olympic weight lifter. Tall and wide with the majority of his bulk in muscle. It would’ve been difficult to pass him as human even without the rough grey skin and the two tusk-like teeth peeking from his jaw. An orc. Damn, even his face looked like a brick. Behind him, was a lizard-like humanoid, similar to the one from the other group but there were some differences. This one had no horns, had dull green scales and was sparsely dressed, only a few belts and harnesses with pouches. An axe- no, a tomahawk of bone was holstered on their hip.

 

“We’re here for the raid quest?” Noam began, glancing towards the edge. My eyes followed his, towards a man dressed in a uniform similar to the desk receptionist at the guild.

 

“Four metres to the right of him,” my other self sent. My vision split to have Greenie’s in parallel, it was staring at a hooded figure. I briefly caught the sight of a bandolier of something, dolls? There was a bird on their shoulder covered in a black cloth, when it turned to face Greenie, I realised that it was just a skeleton.

 

“There is no need to fight,” the green lizard-like humanoid said to the orc, revealing sharp, needlepoint teeth. “There is nothing to be gained.”

 

The orc snorted, spitting loudly onto the floor.

 

“Ew. Also, eight metres to the left, that guy is drawing a weapon.”

 

“This one insulted your honour,” the orc rebutted, pointing to the other lizard.

 

“I see him,” I answered myself.

 

“Pfft. What did I do but speak but the truth? An uncivilised barbarian should go return to the jungle.”

 

“Huh? Did I hear that right?”

 

“You did.” Huh. I guess in the end this really was a fantasy world. I’ve read about racism in textbooks before, but I’ve never seen it in person before.

 

“And what would a damn lizard-like you know!” the orc snarled, before quickly flitting back to his lizard companion. “Not directed at you by the way.”

 

The green lizardman remained silent.

 

“Am I blind or do both of them look like the same race?” Noam loudly ‘whispered’ next to me.

 

I glanced at him. Oh no. “I know that look.”

 

“You must be blind then,” the red lizard replied, “A dragonborn like me could not possibly be mistaken as one of the savage lizardfolk.”

 

“I can’t see a difference,” Declan thought.

 

“At least I have the excuse of not having eyes,” I added.

 

“Really?” Noam ‘incredulously’ asked, “I really couldn’t tell, what’s so different about you lot?”

 

“Your education must be lacking to an egregious degree if you really think that.”

 

Noam shrugged and his eyes flickered to me for the briefest moment.

 

Goddamnit. Well if he picked this hill to die on then I best make sure he digs someone else’s grave.

 

“You see! A dragonborn is born with…”

 

As he began rambling, my mouth opened by the barest fraction. A strange quirk we’ve discovered was that my mouth doesn’t actually need to move when I’m speaking.

 

“... and not to mention the achievements of the Platinum…”

 

Very quietly, I began whispering. My voice was low enough that only Greenie heard me, but that was enough.

 

“Repeat after me.”

 

Greenie did, and I began summarising what I’ve read from one of the bestiaries I’ve read.

 

“Dragonborn seems to be descended from dragons shapeshifting and fucking with humanoids. Their abilities vary but generally, they’re tougher than the average humanoid with innate magical abilities and elemental breath depending on their-”

 

Noam clicked his tongue. “That’s all a fine and long-winded explanation, but you really aren’t proving that superiority you’re talking about,” he said while facing the trio.

 

Not what he was looking for?

 

“This is a verbal battle,” Declan pointed out.

 

Then what can I get?

 

The gnome was uneasy, she kept checking her weapon. The human didn’t speak, but his pose was aggressive. Noam was in his element but still outnumbered.

 

The orc stepped forward, “Thank you for speaking in our defense, but I am not without fangs.” He snarled as he said that, baring some rather impressive tusks.

 

Two to three, still not enough. I couldn’t help notice that the lizard they were defending held a rather apathetic attitude to all of this.

 

The dragonborn began to speak up. I spoke first.

 

“There’s no point to this.”

 

Noam’s eyes flitted rapidly to me.

 

‘We should aim for de-escalation, not further antagonisation,’ I had Greenie communicate to him.

 

‘One more minute,’ he mouthed.

 

I mentally sighed. This idiot.

 

Verbally, I loudly said, “This lizard is all talk and no action, there is no point to arguing with someone who clearly can’t back up their claims.”

 

Noam turned to me, his back to the trio so that they couldn’t see his mischievous smile, “I suppose you’re right. No matter how much you teach a parrot to talk it’s still just a parrot.”

 

“Are you two daft! I’m clearly a dragon!”

 

Noam turned to the guild rep, “Anyways we just need to hand you these papers right?”

 

“Hey? Did you actually turn daft?”

 

“Indeed,” the rep serenely replied. “However due to the specific nature of the quest, we only accept completions with a ‘party’.”

 

“Groups of five or more?” I asked. “That could complicate matters.”

 

“Hellooo?!”

 

“We’re already here so it would be a bit late to call our own friends,” Noam carefreely said. He turned to the orc and lizardman, “What about you two?”

 

“We are…” the orc uncertainly began, before he made eye contact with Noam. A glint of realisation passed through them, and he cheerfully said, “Without a party as well!”

 

“Hey! I swear if you’re ignoring-”

 

“We’ll just need a fifth then,” I said over him.

 

“I said did you hear me!” the dragonborn moved forward, hand reaching for us.

 

“Torrin!” a female voice yelled. The dragonborn paused, glancing back at his gnome companion. She shrunk back slightly, but still firmly said, “Let’s drop it.”

 

“But-”

 

“Please.”

 

Torrin looked back at us, before letting out an indignant grunt, “You side with cannibals and savages.”

 

I made a clicking noise, and from Yellow’s perspective, I could see a brief spark of flame as Noam tsked. Quickly scanning around, I could see the room cooling down, the neutral parties remaining neutral. Discreetly, I stored the sporage I had prepared at the start of the encounter.

 

“Pick your battles better,” I muttered.

 

“I was about to light that fucker up,” Noam replied.

 

“So?” “But for what point?”

 

“He pissed me off,” Noam quietly answered.

 

I mentally sighed. If only I could be as carefree as him.

 

‘That road died for us a long time ago,’ my other commented. ‘I’ll be gone, call if you need me.’

 

‘Got it.’

 

“Thank you for your assistance,” the orc smiled. “You enraged him far better than I would have.”

 

Noam slapped the orc’s back. “No problem,” he cheerfully answered, “I have a natural talent for stuff like this.”

 

“Utoqa,” the orc glanced at his companion, “you thank him as well.”

 

“Thank you,” he simply replied.

 

“No problem,” Noam answered. “Uhmm… there’s no easy way to ask this,” he nervously ruffled the back of his head, “but you’re not actually what he said right? Cause that would be… awkward.”

 

“I have not eaten another lizardfolk in my life,” Utoqa answered. “Though I may be considered a savage.”

 

The orc snorted, “Savage my goat. Take no heed to such insults, they place that label to any race with mhurran fangs.”

 

The orc extended his hand, “I am Naukoth Stoneback.”

 

Noam clasped it, “Noam.”

 

“Dustin,” I answered when he glanced at me.

 

He nodded in approval as I spoke, “You have good teeth for a plant.”

 

“Umm… Thanks?”

 

“There is no problem. Noam, you spoke of partying, we are happy to join you.”

 

“Sweet.”

 

“What can the both of you do?” I asked. “I’m a mage, these are my familiars,” I gestured to Greenie and Yellow. “Noam’s a bard.”

 

Naukoth perked up, “A bard? I am one as well. Where is your instrument?”

 

“I just use my words man,” Noam cheekily replied.

 

The orc nodded contemplatively, “Hmm. That does seem much more convenient.”

 

“You have an instrument?” I asked. In all likelihood he did but it did not hurt to check.

 

Naukoth nodded, “I do, I left it outside. Come! I’ll show you.”

 

Why would he leave it outside? If instruments are basically what wands are to mages, to bards, then he should’ve carried it with him.

 

“Utoqa, introduce yourself as well, it is rude otherwise.”

 

The lizardman nodded, “I am Utoqa. I can fight.”

 

Well, that was informative.

 

“How?” I asked, “Are you melee or long range?”

 

“Melee,” he simply answered.

 

“Using your tomahawk?” Noam asked as we left the hut.

 

“Yes.”

 

The orc rounded around the hut. Must’ve left it behind there.

 

As we followed Naukoth, his ‘instrument’ came into view.

 

“This is it!” the orc proudly presented.

 

What?

 

Noam rubbed his eyes. “Are you serious?”

 

I did a quick double-take. Yep, still the same thing.

 

“He plays a grand piano?” Greenie excitedly asked.

 

I stared at the grand piano. It was literally just a grand piano, one made with polished dark wood… I couldn’t describe it any way other than it was literally just a grand piano. There was a tiny stool next to it made with a weaved web of reeds and leather capping the top, but other than the fact it clashed with the overall design of the piano, there was nothing noteworthy.

 

“How do the logistics of this work?” Noam asked after some hesitation.

 

“I carry it!” Naukoth declared as he flexed his muscles.

 

“How well do the logistics of this work?” I stressed.

 

“Not very well,” Utoqa drily answered.

 

Naukoth looked at his friend betrayed, “Hey hey! I can play it better than the best of them!”

 

Utoqa’s glassy eyes met his, “You are loud, you cannot get through gaps and you tune it every day.”

 

The orc snarled, muttering something in a guttural language, before turning to us, “Are you fine with this?”

 

I looked the orc up and down once again, “Honestly, given your build, I would prefer you just carry a club.” The orc began a rebuttal, “But, play it, let’s see what you can do.”

 

The orc claimed he was a bard, and while carrying a piano would be… suboptimal for a fight, especially one in a cave, it wouldn’t hurt to evaluate his actual ability first, before deciding which to pick.

 

Naukoth visibly lit up at my suggestion, “Finally! A chance to show my true talents!” he declared as he rubbed his thick shovel-like hands together.

 

Wait… “Your fingers are too big for the keys,” I stated. It was a grand piano but one clearly made for human proportions.

 

“No,” Noam rebutted, his eyes glimmering with interest. “You are too confident,” he said to the orc.

 

The orc barred his tusks, a gesture I realised with a start was a smile, before he pulled out the stool and squatted on it, his huge frame towering over the thing. I realised with slight annoyance that even sitting he was almost twice as tall as I was.

 

“First Melody, War of Drums.”

 

Then, he began to play.

 

The first song was brusque, loud and rhythmic. It felt at odds with the classical instrument it was played on, but as he played, I could feel a difference within myself.

 

Strength and agility buff, both by four. I didn’t need to test it, my Analysis of myself simply updated with the new stats.

 

Then, his song started to slow, before stopping.

 

“Second Melody, Ilneval’s Edge.”

 

He said as he began anew. The song sounded slower, his hands were sluggish- No. My mind and perception were getting faster. At least by twenty percent.

 

“Third Melody, Axe in Motion.”

 

The third buff I didn’t recognise. The song was something of constant buildup, and my body began to stir. What was this feeling? I could not recognise it, but it felt like… I could do anything and succeed at it. A willpower or motivation increase?

 

He finished the song, and turned around expectantly.

 

“Amazing,” Noam breathed.

 

“Are those all you can manage?” I asked.

 

The orc’s brow furrowed slightly, “Yes, unfortunately, those are the only complete melodies I know.”

 

The first song increased my stats by eight total. That was four levels. “Your first song-”

 

“Melody,” he corrected.

 

“Whatever. Is the strength and agility increase a flat increase or a percentage one?”

 

“Percentage?”

 

“Does your first melody increase a person’s strength by a flat amount or is it dependant on how strong the person you were affecting were?” I simplified.

 

Naukoth’s forehead furrowed in thought, “I am unsure.”

 

“Noam?”

 

“No clue,” he replied, making a fist. “I didn’t get to move around, but it was more than a quarter but less than fifty percent.”

 

“Can you play the first song again?” I asked.

 

“Melody,” he corrected before playing again.

 

As he started, Noam did a few starting stretches, going through all his muscles. Yellow’s eyes on him, I got back the stats I needed.

 

Strength: 12 (+4)

 

Agility: 14 (+4)

 

“Flat increase of four,” I muttered. “What level are-” Wait, no, are levels even a concept for them?

 

Regardless, a plus-eight stat buff was insane for our level. Even looking back I don’t think I’ve seen a player with a stat surpassing twenty. This orc was either high-level or had an insanely lucky find.

 

“How long can you keep your songs going and how many can you affect?”

 

“I can play for a whole day if needed!” the orc boasted, “As for people, I do not know, but I can easily keep up for five.”

 

“Can you selectively affect only allies?”

 

The orc looked at me as I were stupid, “Of course, all bards can do that.”

 

“Just making sure,” I absentmindedly replied. “Do you require a piano to play these songs?”

 

“If I want to keep it at the same strength,” Naukoth replied. “Regardless, I do not know other instruments.”

 

A piano would be far too obvious and unwieldy, but the effect it could have was far too tantalising to pass up. He said he can easily play for five, that was forty free stats at least. And they weren’t random stats we weren’t going to use. Noam was a mid-front line gish fighter, even if his spells scaled off charisma he would need physical stats to stay relevant. The lizardman didn’t give much away, but he was clearly also a front-liner. Strength and agility were both dump stats for me but with the song up I could theoretically fill as an off-tank/mid-line combatant. In fact, the person whom this song would be least beneficial for would be the orc himself. Since any sane party would have him sequestered at the back constantly keeping his buffs up.

 

Not to mention, he could play two other songs. Yes… I can see it now. It can work. The unwieldiness of the piano can be accounted for. At the very least, playing around a piano will be an interesting challenge.

 

The pros outweigh the cons.

 

“You’re grinning,” Noam pointed out. “It’s goddamn terrifying.”

 

“As any good smile should,” Naukoth commented.

 

“Oh, I know,” Noam replied with his own grin.

 

“We’ll need a fifth,” ideally a healer of some kind. I could fill in for small wounds with Balm Spores but it wasn’t ideal. My build should focus on area control and DPS.

 

“Would the hooded one do?” Utoqa spoke, glancing towards our midst.

 

Our eyes followed Utoqa’s, to a hooded figure standing right between all us.

 

What the-

 

“Ah!” a deep voice yelled as Naukoth fell out of his seat.

 

“None of you saw that!” Naukoth yelled.

 

“Yo,” Noam welcomed, “How’d you get around all of us without noticing?”

 

That was the same person who I noted earlier. The similarly cloaked bird skeleton on their shoulder looked around in a jerky manner.

 

“A necromancer,” the orc snarled. “Blood brother, you cannot be serious about this.”

 

“We require a fifth,” Utoqa stated.

 

I had a better view on them now. A rogue type? Had to be, they didn’t just get around the three of us without notice, but the six of us, counting Greenie, Yellow and Declan.

 

“To be fair I wasn’t paying attention,” my other self’s voice came through, somehow muffled by the sound of chewing even though it was purely in our heads.

 

“Still. That was Noam, Naukoth, the wisps and me.”

 

And what kind of stats did Utoqa had, that he noticed what five others could not?

 

Perception: >10

 

Still needed more information.

 

“Umm…” a soft, distinctively female voice shyly sounded out as she pulled back her hood, revealing juniper dark hair, “... I’m just good at blending in.”

 

“... And I would… umm… also like to join your party.”

 

“What can you do?”

 

The woman glanced down towards me, though her eyes remained nervous. She appeared human, with a normal height of around one hundred and seventy centimetres and without the sharp ears that made me think of an elf.

 

Conventional wisdom placed her face somewhere between seventeen to twenty years old, though there were unknowns. I don’t know if my knowledge of human ages would translate well here.

 

“For one, humans aren’t the only race in this world, and breeding between species seems to occur on a regular occurrence.”

 

“Which indicates that either genetics are screwed here, or most species belonged to the same taxonomical family,” I replied to my Declan self. Pale skin was somewhat normal, but green hair, no matter how dark was not a natural human hair colour. Unless you considered genetic or cosmetic implants to fall under the definition of natural, but few people did.

 

Wait, I was rambling again.

 

“Is it really rambling if someone responds?”

 

Probably not.

 

The woman began talking, nervous at first, but slowly gaining stride. “I umm… am an alchemist. I have prepared potions and know some spells.” She pulled back her cloak, revealing a bandolier of potions.

 

Those weren’t there before. She swapped them out?

 

“Do you remember what she had there before?” I asked Declan.

 

“I do,” he replied. “Weird looking dolls. Like voodoo or something.”

 

“What kind?” I asked her.

 

“There are multiple types of alchemists. See if she’s a combat one.”

 

“Don’t backseat game,” I chided. So annoying.

 

“I heard that.”

 

“You were supposed to.”

 

“Erm… I specifically specialise in herbalism, though I do dabble in some primal material transmutation. Of course of the Trizian School, with some small inspirations from Gimetris! I like how they handle complete transmutation of non-pure materials and their theories on balancing equivalent exchange in favour of the transmuter, of course only minor inspiration, otherwise the Gimetris Law of Bellariuan Disposition would clash with the Trizian’s Theory of...”

 

She slowed her passionate speech as she looked around, realising that none of her audience were looking at her with comprehending eyes- not that I had any. “If that’s satisfactory!”

 

I shrugged. “It’s fine. How do you manage in a fight?”

 

“Oh… Umm… I can throw and supply potions?”

 

“What kind?” I asked.

 

“Don’t those cost money?” Naukoth interjected at the same time.

 

The three of us glanced at each other, and I shrugged, “Him first.”

 

“They do… But I gather most of my own ingredients and I usually get by with just spells.”

 

“But you still pay out of your own pocket for them?” I asked incredulously. She shouldn’t be able to break more than even then. Unless potions were ridiculously cheap.

 

She hesitantly nodded.

 

Naukoth bared his teeth as he growled, “And what of the undead?”

 

She noticeably seemed to flinch back, “It’s my familiar…”

 

“It’s been cleared…” she hesitantly added in response to Naukoth’s bared tusks.

 

“Few things are clear with necromancy,” the orc snarled.

 

Utoqa placed his hand on Naukoth’s shoulder, “If the legalities do not believe it a threat then it should not be.”

 

Interesting.

 

So undead could be cleared with law, hmm… That opened up several class skills I had dismissed before… but back at the conversation at hand.

 

The orc simply snorted in response, crossing his arms. His teeth stayed bared in an animalistic display of displeasure, but he did not contradict what was said.

 

Noam curiously leaned in.

 

“So are undead a big deal?”

 

Surprise flickered across the face of the alchemist for the briefest moment.

 

“They are,” Naukoth answered, still glaring at the alchemist. “How are you not aware of it?”

 

“I’m a Traveller, so I only got around here recently.”

 

There was a brief moment before their brains caught up with capital in the word. I sighed, there wasn’t a need for him to pass that along. It wasn’t a big deal but it was another hidden card revealed for no gain.

 

“Traveller… as in the Grashetars?” Naukoth asked in awe.

 

Noam awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, “Erm… I don’t know what that means.”

 

“The Khartoci word for Stubborn One. I’ve heard tales of your kind,” the orc shuddered. “Great songs of warriors who refused death. I am glad to have one with us.”

 

“... Does that mean you are one too?” the alchemist asked me.

 

My vision shifted to her. Ah, so that was what Noam wanted. Naukoth had shifted out of his aggressive stance, his curiosity of Travelers outstripping his hostility towards the undead. Overall not a complete loss, I just need to play along to move the subject away from her familiar.

 

That idiot with his bleeding heart, I thought with a smile.

 

“Yes,” I answered, reaching out with a hand. “My name is Dustin, yours?”

 

“... Celine,” she accepted my hand with some hesitation. “Celine Kakoph.”

 

Noam smiled, also reaching out for a handshake. “Noam.”

 

“Utoqa,” the lizardfolk said as she took it.

 

The orc grunted, crossing his arms before saying, “Naukoth Stoneback.”

 

“Great,” I began. “Now, onto what I can do…”

The Traveller group was the last to set off. Having spent the time discussing what they were each individually capable of. Maz noted with some approval, that they each seemed to keep a card hidden.

 

Dustin’s familiars scanned the surroundings with cognisance that was… unusual for what should be low-level magical constructs, and his staff had changed since she last saw him. Motes of divine energy, not enough to conceptualise but enough to hint at something. Most notable however were his eyes, which he now covered completely with the strange fungus growing on him in an odd woody mask.

 

The tiefling Noam spoke easily amongst strangers and moved quickly to defend others. He carried the unmistakable aura of someone experienced. For one, when they first entered the building, encountered the hostile environment. He disappeared. His heartbeat slowed, his footsteps no longer made sound and his presence seemed to fade. As another one skilled in hiding, Maz recognised that this was near the peak of what could be achieved without dipping into magic, aura or having an innate gift like the alchemist seemed to have.

 

Naukoth, that unreasonably strong orc, who was casually lugging around a grand piano that was at minimum five hundred kilograms like it were an empty travel sack, was a demented man seeking a fool’s quest. What a waste of such a sculpted body. In terms of physicality, he would rival even a Silver Plater.

 

The last two were the strangest. The lizardfolk Utoqa was tough like most of his race, but even from her perch, he was grating on her senses. That lizard carried enough magic to fit out an entire adventuring party and wasn’t particularly good at hiding it. You’d think he was about to face an entire raider encampment by himself.

 

Whereas Celine… She was an alchemist for sure, but it was not her primary Path. Not a necromancer, those had a distinct feeling which she lacked. Maz didn’t think she'd ever even encountered her type of school. It was grasping… cursed… threading and… incomplete?

 

What Maz wouldn’t have done to gain an aspect of divination right now, but then she would be too scattered. While it was nice to have multiple focuses, the universe will always get its due.

 

Instead, she weaved a working. The illusion milling around the camp was set to a pattern to repeat, and Maz soundlessly fell from her perch. Following the group a few dozen steps behind as they entered the caverns.

 

The first enemies the group encountered, were utterly eviscerated.