An Assassin's Anthem

A symphony of water and thunder played from the heavens. The water blasted into everything. Horses whinnied and kicked. Wagon wheels sunk into the ground. The caravan ground to a halt, and Riley stared at it all in numb fascination.

“The rain is like a river, pouring from the sky. And I am out here in it. Will I ever dry? Nature, aid my journey. Help me sing your song. I can’t feel my hands or feet. It’s like they have long gone.”

Riley chuckled to himself and looked down at his muddy pants.

A shrill voice yelled, pulling him out of his daze. Trudging forward, he waded through the mud and then helped lift the wagon out of the hole.

The horses surged, and mud sloshed everywhere. Riley sighed and held up his arms, letting the rain wash away.

“I hate this,” Amar muttered angrily, shaking off the mud.

“Steer the condemned thing!” Wayne shouted as the next wagon headed right for the hole.

The merchant tried, hauling back on reins to get the horses to navigate around. Then the wagon slipped; its rear wheel sunk into the mess and sent out a wave of mud.

“Condemnation!” Amar shouted at the driver.

Riley stepped into the mud, sinking down to his ankles. Then he helped pull out the wagon.

Once again, it sloshed the group in mud. Riley looked down at the mess and didn’t bother trying to clean it off. Instead, he let the rain extinguish all of his frustrations and anger. A dull exhaustion replaced them.

The next wagon veered around the hole and then slid, sending a wave of dirty water sloshing over the group.

“Gods condemn you!” Amar shouted furiously. “Learn to drive!” he bellowed.

Riley laughed and then looked up, squinting at the blurry man in front of him.

“You okay?” Roger asked with growing concern.

Riley shrugged with a silly smile. “I don’t know; you go numb after a bit. That’s helping.” He held out his arms and knocked raindrops out of the way.

Roger frowned and studied his son. “I’ll talk to them. And I need you to keep moving!”

Riley nodded and pulled out the wagon. Then he darted away and tried to get clean again, letting the rain help as it poured down.

Wayne walked next to him and stood there. “It never stops,” he said, wiping off mud and slumping to the ground.

Riley nodded and did the same. “The rain is all around us, falling from the sky. Some may say it’s dreary. Some wish they could be dry. But as for me, I love it. It doesn’t bother me. After all, I feel nothing. So please just let me be.” He leaned back against a rock.

Amar blinked and wiped the mud off his arm. “Are you two drunk?”

Riley shrugged. Roger appeared moments later and grabbed Riley’s arm. Then he began pulling him forward.

“Dad?” Riley asked happily. “Isn’t it pretty?” He waved at the rain, spinning as it pelted him.

“Run!” Roger barked and picked up his pace, forcing his hypothermic son into a jog.

As his run turned into a sprint, Riley groaned. “Dad, please.”

“No. Run! We’re running to the city ahead.” Roger gestured through the torrent in front of them.

I just see rain, Riley thought as he sprinted along the muddy mess.

After a few minutes of running, Riley could feel his heart thundering through his body. It didn’t help. It made everything much colder. He shivered.

A fire appeared in the distance. Riley shivered and used Dancer's Form, tearing off toward the only warm thing around.

Mud and water splashed everywhere. The two raced up to the city, and Riley shot straight for the fire, splashing water all over the half-open gate and watch post.

A guard looked out of the hut to see the two. “Just get inside. I’m not going out in this shit!” She popped the gate open.

Riley shivered and looked up the cobblestone street. Water cascaded off rooftops. Wooden shingles groaned. Tiles sang. And the water crashed out onto the street, streaming out toward the fields.

Ignoring the soaking cottages and shops, Roger pulled his son towards the large inn. Jerking the door open, he pulled Riley inside.

Patrons at the crowded tables turned and stared. Water dripped onto the worn wood floor, and the hearth sent out waves of heat. Ignoring everything else, Riley locked onto the hearth and headed to it, leaving a trail of water. Roger followed him.

A stout woman walked up, wiping her hands on her apron. “You are soaked. Would you mind drying off near the door?”

Roger gently grabbed his son’s shoulders and spun him. “Riley, focus for me. Dry yourself off while I go help the others, okay?”

Riley nodded numbly, burning mana to send water splashing off him. Looking down at his dirty clothing, he shivered and turned back toward the hearth.

“Can you watch him for me?” Roger asked.

“Certainly,” the innkeeper replied. “Hypothermia?”

“Yes,” Roger called out. “I need to help the caravan. Put him to work or something. I need his pulse up.”

Riley rubbed his hands as he blinked at the inferno. Are hearths normally this hot?

“Come on,” the innkeeper said as she grabbed Riley by the shoulders. “Help mop up your mess.”

“Sorry,” Riley said woodenly. Why do I feel like I’m standing in mud?

“You need to move, dear,” the woman said, steering him near the door. She gestured to a mop and bucket. “Mop it up.”

Riley nodded and grabbed it, then he woodenly began cleaning, slowly mopping up the water near the door.

As he worked, his brain started to clear. He looked down at the worn wood and finished the last of the water. Then, he looked up at the inn.

People were chatting, drinking, and eating at the tables. Puddles littered the floor. With nothing better to do, Riley shivered and mopped around the tables, cleaning up the dirt and mud that had been tracked in. The innkeeper periodically brought out ale and checked on him.

As Riley listened to the chatter, he smiled, and his brain seemed to work once more. I should make up a story. I can get activity experience for Bard, and lying will help two of the others.

The door banged open, interrupting his thoughts. Roger stood there with Wayne, who was shivering furiously. Burning mana, Riley sent the water out the door.

Roger pushed him inside and bolted back into the rain.

Wayne blinked and walked towards the fire. “Worst caravan ever,” he murmured.

“You have to mop after yourself,” Riley said, holding out the mop.

“Condemn that,” Wayne said as he stood in front of the flame, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them.

Riley shrugged. If he’s that spunky, he’ll be alright. Turning, he resumed mopping.

A man looked up. “Boy, get me another!”

“Yes, sir!” Riley ran to the kitchen. He grabbed a mug of ale and looked at the man organizing the pantry. “Someone wants one, sir.”

The man turned and nodded. “I’ll tell the missis. Two sil a mug. I’ll give you a sil for every twenty you sell.”

“Deal!” Riley grinned and headed back out, placing it down at the table and grabbing the two sil from the table.

“I want a warm ale,” a woman called to him, gesturing at her mug.

“Right. Sorry, Ma’am,” Riley replied, grabbing it and racing it to the hearth. He placed the mug on it.

Walking back, he grabbed the mop and started singing a drinking song.

“There is a cure among us for everything that ails,” Riley sang. “Tasting great or like a lake, it’ll never fail! So, go and lift your mugs up. Down it in a go! Storms will ever roll on through. But ale is what we know. There is no better medicine…”

While still singing, Riley then triggered his skill, boosting everyone’s stamina and morale. Several felt the refreshing surge of magic and called for more ale.

Dancing through the tables, Riley obliged them, happily swapping out empty mugs for full ones while collecting coins.

The innkeeper poked her head in. With a chuckle, she pulled Riley aside on his next trip.

“Yes’m?” Riley asked with a grin.

“If you ever want a job here, pass through.” She smiled approvingly. “Happen to have a skilled sister?”

“Sure do, Ma’am,” Riley lied. “I’ll tell her to stop by if she’s ever in town. Name’s Sarah.” He plunged his hands into the sink. He rapidly washed mugs and then tossed them into the drying rack. Then he moved glasses of ale near the kitchen fire to heat them up. Pulling out some foraged nuts, he used a nearby mallet to smash them. Then he tossed them in for flavor. “It’s worth three now,” he said with a wink.

The innkeeper chuckled. “I’d love to meet that sister. I’ll take her if she’s half as good as you are.”

“She’s better.” Riley grabbed filled mugs. Then he darted back into the room and began selling ale to anyone he could pressure into buying.

A stream from the caravan began entering. Grabbing the mop, Riley scrubbed and took orders.

Helga shook her head and gave her order to Riley. “You’re a barmaid now?”

“Practice. Practice,” Riley said with a wink. “Three sil for an ale. We’re running low due to the storm.”

“That’s robbery,” Helga replied, shaking her head.

“Nah. ‘Tis fair,” Riley replied in protest. “The storm is delaying caravans. The shipment will be delayed, sure as rain.” His grin widened. “I heard that many caravans are struggling with hypothermia and broken axles. I heard --”

“Enough,” Helga said with a sigh. “Three for the first.” She placed them down. “Taught you too well, I did,” she muttered.

“Thank you for your patronage,” Riley said, grabbed the coin, and repeated it, driving up the prices for a better cut.

Roger chuckled and took a seat, hanging his soaked cloak on the wooden chair.

“That boy of yours will make a good merchant,” Helga said, sitting next to him.

Roger nodded. “He has a persuasive manner. Got it from his mother. Gods guide her.”

Riley appeared next to his dad. “Ale? Four sil.”

“Nice try,” Roger retorted. “I’ll take stew, bread, and ale. Two sil and nothing more.”

Riley scoffed. “That’s eight!”

Helga laughed. Roger rolled his eyes. “Five. Not a sil more, you nightmare.”

Riley laughed and took the coin. Then he headed to the next order.

Helga met Roger’s gaze. “He’s not promised to anyone, right?”

“No. Why?” Roger asked, wringing water out of his clothes.

“I have a niece about his age. The two would be a force,” Helga said with a gleam in her eye.

“We’ll see if they get on,” Roger lied with a nod. “Maybe that will work.”

Riley danced by with the mop. The door swung open with a bang, and guards came streaming in.

Riley Milvsky

Level: 44

XP: 40813

Bard (C)

Level: 25

Inspiring Song F Bolster your allies with magic and music. Strength and Move Speed increased by 1 for one minute. Costs five Bardic Inspiration and impacts allies within ten meters. The radius of influence expands by one meter for each additional inspiration spent.

Psychic Spike F Wield your mana to cause psychic damage to a target. Cost varies based on allocation.

Manipulate Water F Manipulate the water around you. Cost varies based on amount.

Assassin (C)

Level: 25 + 12

Assume Disguise S +30 charisma. Enhance your current disguise by altering your displayed information and taking on the disguised form. Grants +5 levels to the assigned class. Perception and Insight suffer -250 levels against your disguise and -50 levels against your deception or stealth. Penalty applied: Gods’ Oversight.

Dancer's Form B +10 speed. +2 levels to assigned class. You may use a charge of inspiration to boost your movement speed by an additional 5 for a minute.

Death's Cloak A Slain enemies will grant experience to your base level and active classes. +3 levels to the assigned class. Perception and insight suffer -25 levels against you. Penalty applied: Covenant.

Ambush B +10 speed. +2 levels to the assigned class. Costs one stamina to use. On use, you teleport to a shadow within 20 meters. Penalty applied: Covenant.

Ranger (C)

Level: 24

Predatory Sight E Your perception and insight are boosted by 5. This boost is not reduced by low light or no light.

Pretty E Your appearance is better, but it could be even grander. Use 1 mana to get a little help from Beauty! (Upgrade me again!) Penalty applied: Unequippable. Beauty may alter your appearance at her whim.

Spell Thief (C) Level: 17 Inactive.

Dexterity: 174

Strength: 88

Speed: 81

Intelligence: 88

Charisma: 143

Stamina: 149

Mana: 162

Inspiration: 69