Porkchop’s evolution had been rapid, traumatic, and frankly immense. He had nearly been as big as a dire bear before, but now he outsized one — two strides taller than Kaius at the shoulder. Porkchop might as well have been a living boulder. His fangs and claws, once jade, had become metallic and crystalline. The old ones still lay embedded in the mud beneath his body. He’’d need to collect them; they would make a good keepsake.
Where his fur had once been a green so deep it verged on black, it was now slate-grey, though it caught the light oddly, scattering it. Aside from that, it was two or three times as dense, looking so plush that Kaius thought it might be possible to drown in it. The bright green markings across his face and muzzle had been replaced by ones white-to-grey, far more reflective, as if painted with liquid silver. His thick mane had only grown—true black with silvery tips that flowed with every movement, catching the light and making it ripple.
Kaius let out a low whistle of appreciation.
“What?” Porkchop demanded, rising to his feet.
“He’s the size of a gods-damned caravan,” Kenva trailed off, staring up at Porkchop towering over them.
“And you’re all so tiny. This is fantastic!”
Kaius snorted, shaking his head. “Whatever, fatty. What’d you pick?”
“Orichalcum Beastknight,” Porkchop replied. “Metal and Crystal affinity. And a Vanguard. But my guide insisted it could still be defensive in nature, depending on how I used it.”
Kaius raised an eyebrow. A Vanguard, eh? He hadn’t expected that. Still, he trusted Porkchop to have made the right choice.
“Did you get anything interesting?” Ianmus asked, his eagerness for his own upcoming choices bleeding through his voice.
“I did. Check out my armour.”
A moment later, there was a subtle pop. Suddenly, Kaius was looking up at a metallic demon. Porkchop’s entire body had been encased in a set of heavy plate so intricate Kaius would have believed it of dwarven make. More importantly, the helm enclosed his head utterly. It was twisted into the caricature of a snarling devilish creature, with two spike-like horns carved from his temples, looming high and needle-pointed.
Kaius blinked. Kenva’s reaction was less subtle—she jolted, stepping back.
“Shattered bloody axles, man! You could’ve warned us.”
Porkchop tilted his head at them, the interlocking plates of his neck sliding across each other soundlessly. “What do you mean?”
“Your helmet looks like a demon — it’s got horns as long as my thigh,” Ianmus replied. “See?”
He pulled a well-polished plate from a storage ring — one of their pilfered trophies from Old Yon’s dungeon — and turned it. Porkchop craned his head down, tilting it back and forth. When he opened his mouth, the demon’s maw yawned with him, revealing his own metallic fangs. It was like he had been engulfed by a living creature of metal.
“Neat. I thought the helmet was a little heavier.”
“Gods, this is ridiculous. I’m jumping into my class selection now. You three have fun,” Kenva said with a roll of her eyes. Kaius didn’t miss the amused grin on her face.
The ranger lay down and was out like a light a moment later.
…
Her people had many beliefs about class selections, about where they were hosted. The place was supposed to be a mirror to your truest self, where you felt most at home and free. They knew that for sure, thanks to their guides’ confirmations. But such a place held special importance for the Hiwiann, who lived on the move, as nomadic as they were.
That was why it was so surprising for Kenva to find herself in a comically oversized recreation of Kaius and Porkchop’s dimensional tent. The pitched walls of fabric soared dozens of strides overhead, nearly an acre of hides spread across the ground. Scattered through the place were plates and simple pottery, painted with likenesses of friends and family. It was an Aen tradition, rather than one of the wider Haiwan. Still, it was not their way to turn away those who earnestly sought to join them.
Across from her stood the guise of her old archery master — withered and ancient, a woman so venerable her cousins had whispered she’d lived three hundred years. She was short, for an aen, standing only five and a half strides tall. Somehow, that didn’t stop her from tossing around a war bow six strides long.
Kenva’s nerves had been tight in the lead-up, tension boiling in her chest. Her guide led her toward the cusp: a cluster of plates painted with visages of herself, different potential futures. She worried—she was still new to her team, found through happenstance, held together in a moment of uncertainty. They’d worked together so long and were strong. She knew logically that she’d pulled her weight, but what if it hadn’t been enough? What if she didn’t earn a Heroic class, and the rest of them ascended, growing stronger, until she was left behind?
And yet — those fears were banished.
“How do you feel?” her guide asked.
“Good. Really good.” A beaming smile spread across her face.
Still fizzing with excitement, she pulled up her description.
Heartseeker of Dro’durn:
Class - Tier II
Heroic
Relevant Feats:
Has hunted beasts of double their level in the first tier; has slain dozens of second tier beasts in the first tier; has slain beasts of more than 125 levels over their own; has slain multiple beasts of a higher level with a single arrow; has slain a member of the higher races that is at least double their level; has at least 6 archery skills; has explored and completed a crucible; has gathered at least 8 honours in the first tier; has gained at least one grand honour in the first tier; has capped all general skills; has the ability to fashion their own arrows; has the ability to see and exploit internal vulnerabilities in others; has slain a target from over two leagues away.
Many think druids are passive groups. Farmers, naturalists, peacelovers, and slow-living wild men. Those people are fools. Druids uphold the natural cycle — half of which is death, and its violent becoming. Of all circles Dro’durn is among the most vicious — killers, eaters, and hunters. Many who stray into their forest do not return, though that is not because of their druids, terrifying their natural magics might be. It is the Heartseekers that prove most dangerous. Ghosts in the trees, seen only by the sudden sprouting of arrows from one's chest, they live as the wardens of the circle — jealously guarding the lives of their charges. If you do spot them, it is only because they hunger for the thrill of a fight. One they will inevitably win.
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The Heartseekers are the rangers attached to the druidic circle of Dro’durn. Long have the lived in symbiosis with the druids — trading protection, for trained mastery of nature, and a land to live off. They are consummate archers, as proficient in war as they are in the hunt. Mastering abilities of the affinities of nature and wind, they embody the violent destruction found in nature — the howling of a typhoon, and the tree watered by blood. When they wish, they are almost impossible to spot, but frequently they are found fighting up close where they lean on their agility and mastery of their surroundings to remain untouchable.
All Martial, Nature, and Wind affinity skills are improved by 40%
All Archery, Mobility and Body Enhancement type skills are improved by 120%
Stats:
+3 Constitution, +3 Vitality, +5 Strength, +6 Dexterity, +2 Intelligence, +3 Willpower per level
Skill Resonance:
Farseer - Weak
Storming Rain - Strong
Dead Eye Sniper - Strong
Way of the Survivalist - Strong
Windborn Survivor - Strong
Mana Manipulation - Strong
Silence of the Unseen - Strong
Ascetic Constitution - Strong
Deep Focus - Strong
Finetuned Hearing - Strong
…
Status:
Name: Kenva
Dynasty: Clan Zhdan
Age: 21
Race: Aen (Dynastic, Stormsoul) - +1 Con, Dex, and free stats per level
Layer Reached: 29
Class: Heartseeker of Dro’durn - +3 Con, +3 Vit, +5 Str, +6 Dex, +2 Int, +3 Wil per level
Tier: 2
Level: 201
Resources:
Health - 4960/4960 (80.8/min)
Stamina - 8770/8770 (121.1/min)
Mana - 4920/4920 (49.4/min)
Stats:
Endurance - 496 (224 + 92 + 57%)
Vitality - 808 (423 + 92 + 57%)
Strength - 877 (425 + 107 + 65%)
Dexterity - 1211 (627 + 107 + 65%)
Intelligence - 492 (222 + 92 + 57%)
Willpower: - 494 (223 + 92 + 57%)
Stat Points: 0
Aspects:
Pillar Corporus: The Willow That Survived the Storm
- Reinforcement: Titan’s Marrow
- Seed: Acrobat’s Physique
Pillar Mentis: The Movement of Autumn
- Reinforcement: Glass Mind
- Seed: The Fall of Rain
Pillar Animus: The Wide-eyed Explorer
- Reinforcement: Purity of Self
- Seed: See and be Seen
Refinement Stage:
Untempered
Class Skills (10/10):
Howl of the North Wind (Heroic) - 201
Lance of Fury (Unusual) - 200
Vinestride (Rare) - 200
Ranger’s Potency (Rare) - 174
Slice the Heavens (Rare) - 116
Winter’s Mark (Unusual) - 145
The Mother’s Shadow (Unusual) - 125
Maiming Rain (Unusual) - 87
Ensnaring Seedburst (Unusual) - 73
Gift of the Hungry Forest (Unusual) - 56
General Skills (10/10):
Farseer (Heroic) - 200
Heartseeker’s Dance (Heroic) - 201
Deathdealer’s Marksmanship (Unique) - 201
Born of the Wild (Unusual) - 201
Stormborn Grace (Unique) - 201
Channeling Mastery (Unusual) - 201
Silence of the Unseen (Unusual) - 201
Ascetic Constitution (Unusual) - 201
Warfocus (Unique) - 201
Spirit-blessed Senses (Unique) - 201
Honours:
Massacre
Deadeye
Hordebreaker
Ruthless Underdog II
Ruthless Underdog III
Persistent Survivor IV (Minor)
Paragon (Major, Bonus)
Daring Challenger (Minor)
Triarch (Bonus)
The Wheel Turns
Paver of Ways (Bonus)
Hordebreaker II
Massacre II
Deadeye II
When Killers Meet
The Mighty Stand Alone
Strength of Arm II
Ghostwind II
….
Standing on the stage where he had once received his accolade, graduating Sunspire with distinction, Ianmus could hardly believe the simple facts before him. Not only had he earned a Heroic class, but the choices aligned with his seals numbered in the dozens.
It was overwhelming — the sheer quantity of general skills that resonated with each one. The difference between his old Rare class and this new one was immense. A fundamental evolution of his power and abilities, one he expected to change further as it grew into key seals and truths.
He was happy with his choice: the Ritualist of Dawn and Dusk, a dual-affinity class expanding his magic to include that of the moons. More importantly, his guide had shared far more about the nature of key seals.
Taking the form of his old combat casting professor, the grizzled mage had seemed pleased with his progress and all he had achieved.
They had walked the halls of Sunspire — through laboratories, classrooms, and libraries — picking volumes for his class. Now they stood in the graduation hall, waiting for him to pick his first seal.
Keyseals, his guide explained, were tied to ritual magic — though his class leaned toward direct application, much the same way glyphbinding related to the broader arts of runewrights. Ritual magic was broad, often used for grand-scale workings beyond the extremes of normal casting — effects that could take hours or days to complete, uniquely stable even when partial, and even enabling multiple practitioners to work together.
It was utterly unlike sorcery or glyphbinding, and utterly foreign to him. Rituals. It sounded fascinating. Something he wanted to get his claws into.
For now, keyseal conjuring would have to do. For one, ritual magic wasn’t the most suited for combat. Thankfully, keyseals had that in spades. His class focused not only on the piercing power and regenerative warmth of the sun, but also the cold, deadly grace of the moon.
Of all the potential awards that had littered the table in the graduation hall, it had taken hours to pick through them before he settled on his final choice for his first class skill. Yet his excitement went beyond the skill itself, to the mysteries of the art—to the capabilities of key seals and rituals he might one day master.
“Thank you for your assistance,” he said. “I know it took an age to look through everything.”
“Nonsense, my boy,” his guide said. “It’s always gratifying to see someone who wishes to pick through every detail. It seems to have helped you settle your mind.”
Ianmus grinned. The potential of the art seemed vast. Even the larger rituals—though not the focus of his class—he would learn, someday.
He pulled up the description of his new skill again, eyes wide and bright.
Keyseal of the Rising Dawn
Level 201:
Class Skill - Tier II
Affinity: Solar
Type: Keyseal, Spellcasting
Heroic
Fire burns with the rise of the sun, banishing the soothing embrace of midnight’s kiss, and burying your enemies in ash. Remember the heat, it will fuel your work.
Tier I:
This skill allows the user to weave a keyseal that locks away a portion of their manapool. Drawing on ambient power, it steadily and continuously converts a usable store of solar mana that will empower and speed up the casting of any offensive solar spell channeled through it. This accumulated mana may also be discharged to instantly cast the first tier spell Dawn’s Light, a penetrating ray, at which point the Keyseal will begin accumulating mana once more.
Tier II:
Accumulated mana may also be used to instantly cast Preeminent Halo, a second tier spell that fires a large disk of scouring light that may be detonated at will.
Increased scaling of spell empowerment
Increased draw on ambient mana
Increased maximum mana that Keyseal of the Rising Dawn may hold
Each level significantly increases the empowering and stabilising effects the keyseal has on channeled solar magic.
Each level significantly increases the draw on ambient mana.
Each level moderately increases total potential mana stores.
Cost: 1000 mana
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