Path of the Pioneers

The three of us had gathered together at a table in the front room, but only after Cairbre had locked up the shop. The dwarf sat in quiet contemplation for a moment stroking his chin with his hand. “S’pose I’ll have t’start at the beginnin’, then. ‘Specially if Morgan didn’t tell ye.”

So he began, recounting the history of the past to the both of us.

Fifty years ago, a chosen few around the world began to see sparkling panels filled with odd writings, mentioning things like ‘classes’, ‘skills’, and ‘levels.’ Those who saw these panels were imbued with otherworldly powers, and grew into existences beyond the understanding of their time. They became known as “Pioneers,” the first of the awakened.

Cairbre was a dwarf no older than nineteen summers when he was chosen. As one of the first few chosen, he was gifted with a class named “Pioneer of Forging.” A fitting class, at that, as his family had been in the business of smithing for centuries. It was all he had known.

At first, the blue panel that would appear in front of Cairbre puzzled him deeply. But over time, he became accustomed to it, and the fantastical gifts that it gave him. He felt a deep sense of pride at having been one of the ones selected. That was, until problems began to arise.

Over the next few years, as the Pioneers became known across the lands as having been blessed by the gods, Cairbre was overwhelmed with requests for tools, weapons, armor, and a truly staggering amount of other things. He did what he could to fulfill these requests. But in the end, he was but one man.

As he made more and more items, each increasing in quality due to his rapidly-rising skill proficiencies, he received stranger and stranger requests. Daggers with hidden channels for poison, spiral-tipped arrows that would spin as they entered flesh, throwing hatchets designed to violently shatter when they struck their targets. Certain customers demanded yet more intricate tools of violence.

He began turning down certain requests. With his fame, Cairbre could at least be choosy about his clientele. Or so he believed.

Cairbre had been hesitant about turning down Pioneers. But one client pushed this policy of his towards its breaking point.

A man, in his early thirties by the looks of him, entered his shop. A human. He had introduced himself as a Pioneer, Bernard Fischer. He had neatly-trimmed blonde hair, and wore a fetching cape. By all definitions, he looked the part of a hero.

But his request sent signals flying through Cairbre’s head like nothing else. A pair of the sturdiest manacles he could make, the interior rings lined with small spikes. 

A pair of manacles, the smith could understand. But this request had seemed like a convoluted instrument of torture, more than anything. Out of due caution, he respectfully declined the request.

Cairbre had thought that with that, the business would be over, and he’d be free to carry on as normal. But he had woefully underestimated his fellow Pioneers. Or, to be more specific, the malice that had grown in their hearts from the power they had been granted.

The human’s expression shifted, his features lowering into an annoyed glare. Without wasting another moment, he lifted his hand, holding it up to Cairbre’s face. Then and there, the dwarf felt locked in that spot. His body refused to move.

A voice came from the back of the shop, a girl’s. “So that’s how you do it.”

The man’s hand fell from his wrist, thumping against the counter. Cairbre was free to move again, free to breathe, while Bernard began clutching at the stump that remained. Blood ran freely from his fresh wound, and his expression was that of panic. He quickly turned to face the one who had taken his hand from him, even while gritting his teeth in silent agony. “Y-you..!”

It was then that Cairbre saw her for the first time: Morgan.

She looked to be a teenage girl, about sixteen or seventeen. Her black hair was cut short, reaching down only to stop just above her shoulders. Atop her head was a pointed hat, one with a wide brim at its base. She covered herself in a black cloak that reached down to veil almost all of her torso and arms.

Her eyes stood out the most, though. Not just the color, a striking purple akin to amethyst, but her expression. It was disgust, but also something else. Something like resignation.

Bernard snapped his other hand towards her, and she allowed her eyelids to fall, blocking out her sight. The man shrinked back in horror.

“Is this really how you want to spend what you’ve been given?” She took a step towards him, eyes still shut closed. “Far be it from me to make that decision for you. But..”

The girl snapped her fingers, and the man’s other hand was severed from its wrist, lingering in the air before falling to the ground with yet another thump. She opened her eyes once more. “If you’re allowed to throw your weight around, I am too.”

“H-how..? How in the hells..!” Bernard fell back, his arms coated in fresh, dripping crimson.

She walked forward, closing the distance between the two of them. Ripples ran through the small puddle of blood growing underneath him as she trampled through it without a care. “You used your powers on any person you wanted to. For months, at that. Did you think there wouldn’t be consequences?”

“Be quiet!” He hissed out through gritted teeth, his face warped and contorted as he tried not to scream from the pain rending his mind apart. “I was chosen, girl! The gods gave me this power! Gif-” He was interrupted, cut short by the girl slapping him hard across the face.

She turned to face Cairbre, “Sorry for the disturbance, Cairbre.” Then, with one hand, she grabbed Bernard Fischer by the hair, yanking him towards her as she began dragging him towards the door. After the door closed, and the two were outside, Cairbre only had the sense of sound to rely upon. He refused to peer outside through his window, let alone move from his spot.

“The gods would have been better served in giving you a conscience.” A muffled response came afterwards, and she continued. “We were granted this strength in order to aid our world. To protect it, to guide it.” A dampened scream from Bernard followed those words, but she kept going, “That’s fine, even the gods can make mistakes, it would seem. But it’s our responsibility to correct them.”

There was a gasp, a few moments of gurgling, and then nothing.

Cairbre stood there, still as a stone. He almost had something done to him, only to be saved by that girl. His thoughts were a mess. He had caught wind of dungeons, especially through the Pioneers he took orders from. They would regale him with stories of danger and thrill each time they entered his shop.

What a callous world, Cairbre thought, to make a child like this.

The girl opened the door carefully, stepping back inside the shop as the bell rang. Past the door, Cairbre couldn’t see any sign of what he had heard. No blood, no body. Nothing. She looked up at Cairbre, “Are you well? It was a close call, I must admit.”

Blinking a few times, the dwarf finally willed himself to speak once more, “Q-quite fine, lass. Thank ye fer the save.” She nodded.

The hand on the counter, and the hand on the ground lifted into the air, slowly floating over towards the girl. In a violent flash of fire, they disappeared, burned away to ash and soot. With a wave of her hand, light washed over the blood and ash staining Cairbre’s shop, and it promptly disappeared. As if it were never there in the first place.

“I’d best be off.” She stepped back to the door, putting a hand on it as she readied herself to leave. “Stay vigilant when it comes to the others, Cairbre. Some of them have gone mad with their blessings.” 

Cairbre stuck out a hand, “Just a minute, lass! Err..”

She turned back, an eyebrow raised, “You can call me Morgan.”

“Right, Morgan. Who in the hells was that crazy bastard?”

Morgan looked to the side, thinking for a moment. With a click of her tongue, she walked back to the counter. “You got his name, Bernard Fischer. He was Domination, just as you’re Forging.” She looked down in disgust, “His skills pertained to controlling the minds of others.”

 A shiver ran down Cairbre’s spine as realization creeped into his heart. He was that close to having his mind puppeteered by another. Cairbre could hardly think of something more frightening than that.

“Then ye really got me out of a pinch..” Cairbre cleared his throat, “Look, there must be somethin’ I can make for ye. T’pay ye back for the help, o’ course.”

Morgan furrowed her brow, “I would say ‘Keep yourself alive’ but you don’t seem like the type to accept that.” He smirked, which brought out a sigh from her. “A necklace, perhaps?”

“Have ye got a stat preference, la-.. Morgan?” After catching himself, he cleared his throat.

“Intellect or reflex should be fine. Or luck, if you can even affect that.” 

“I’ll have t’see what I can do. But I think I can make ye somethin’ good with that.” Cairbre grinned, mind already full of ideas about how he would use his skills to their fullest in order to repay his savior.

“Then I’ll return in a month.” She walked away from the counter, opening the door to the shop. Then, with a final look back, “Don’t forget, the best gift you can give to the world is your life. Your blessing might be the best out of anyone’s.”

Before Cairbre could respond, she stepped out of the shop, closing the door behind her.

“We saw each other plenty after that bloodbath. Even cleared a couple o’ dungeons t’gether. But, gettin' t'the point, I owe ‘er a lot. Barely repaid half o’ that debt ‘fore she passed.” Cairbre took a deep breath, and then sighed. “But, yer here now, lass. I’ll just have t’pass it on.”

I looked over at Adeline, who seemed to have enjoyed the story a great deal, despite the fact that she’d almost certainly heard it dozens of times.

“Makes a lot of sense why you rolled over that minotaur, now that I think about it. Your master really was a Pioneer…” She glanced over at me, “You should’ve told me sooner! We could have exchanged stories.”

I laughed politely, “She.. Was very secretive about her identity.” 

Adeline leaned towards me, smiling mischievously, “You wouldn’t even tell your partner?”

My eyes widened as heat rushed to my face. She was insisting on doing this in front of Cairbre?

The dwarf shot a dirty look at Adeline, “Oi, pup! No flirtin’ in the shop, do it on yer own time!”

She looked towards him with a huff, “You’re right. I know it must be tough being single.”

I leaned back in my chair as the two began to argue and squabble. Like family, I thought.

Cairbre held up a finger towards Adeline, “Watch yer tone, pup! If ye don’t want those shiny new blades to end up with a few cracks!” followed up with a few hammering motions.

I thought, then, that I could get used to this atmosphere.