Vraxious- Crucible Hamlet
Vrax and Torvald wearily stuffed themselves back into their inn room. Torvald sat down with a happy sigh, his bed creaking under his weight. Vrax just sighed at his broken, melted bed and sat down at the small chair in front of the shared table. First things first, I need to change [Adapt Life] so that my rapidly growing army of problems doesn’t accidentally fucking eat Torvald. I need to narrow the scope of the change, though; friendly to my allies is too indistinct. Maybe if I have a way to mark them. Vrax sat brainstorming how he would spend his essence for a good hour before Torvald finally sat up from where he had been lying down and looked over at Vrax, a big goofy grin plastered across his face.
“Well, goddamn, it feels good to be a badass, that trek got me all the way to level twelve!” Torvald said
“Oh shit! What did you improve this time?”
“Easier to just show you,” Torvald said, holding out a hand.
Vrax hesitated for just a moment before scooting his chair closer and taking the offered handshake. Torvald was going to bring him to his sanctuary and show him his status page. Only because they were such old friends was Torvald comfortable with this. Letting someone into your sanctuary could be a horrific mistake. Between letting others examine your secrets and the rare few classes that had skills capable of affecting things within another’s sanctuary, it was not something that was done lightly. Usually only party members seeking more cohesion or mentor figures trying to give advice on how to craft a skill ever had enough reason for the risks to be worth it.
Vrax felt the world fade away; instead of the comfortable drifting sensation when he entered his own sanctuary, this was like diving from a waterfall as he felt his consciousness dragged away and roughly deposited elsewhere. Around him, Torvald’s sanctuary roared. A blood-soaked coliseum surrounded him; indistinct figures packed the towering rows of seats above, shouting in fevered bloodlust. Dotted around the colosseum were Torvald's sculpures he only had three of them. One depicted him exploding into motion, the sand around him frozen in time. The other skill sculpture showed him moored in place, face gritted in effort, holding back a charging bear.
His [core statue] sat in the center of the coliseum itself. A shrine to Torvalds lust for life and adventure. It depicted him shirtless, glistening in the sunlight, one hand held high, draping a bushel of grapes down to his mouth; his foot was upon a slain bear’s corpse, warhammer still sunk into its skull, and his other hand was overflowing with glittering gold.
Vrax looked at the real Torvald beside him. “The fuck, man?” he asked incredulously
Torvald smiled proudly. “I know, my sanctuary is breathtaking, but this is what we’re here for,” Torvald said and then opened up his status page for Vrax to read.
[Torvald Glenn Tier-1] (Lvl 12) (Rare)[Siege Breaker]
You will destroy the defenses of your foes through inexhaustible and inescapable might. Wield your arms against those who would dare stand in your way, batting them aside with blows that strike with the force of a crashing mountain. When in motion you are the unstoppable force, and when standing tall to defend your allies, you are the immovable object.
[Skills]
[Immutable Charge](lvl2)
Instantly accelerate your body to up to double what you could achieve with your strength in any direction. Accelerate any held weapon up to double your normal strength in any direction instantly.
[Mana Cost Medium]
[Immovable Object]
Moor yourself in space itself, making you almost impossible to move against your will.
[Mana Cost High]
[Talents]
[Unstoppable Force]
When in motion, your body and blows carry far more momentum.
[Passive]
[War Cry Of Doom](lvl2)
Foes are more likely to prioritize attacking you. Foes who die after hearing your war cry heal you slightly with their essence.
[Passive]
Improved Attributes
Physical Strength: 2.8
Physical Defense:
1.6Physical Endurance: 1.2
Total Mana: 88/88
Vrax chuckled nervously to himself. Holy fuck, his strength is already almost triple his natural how strong is this monster now? Vrax turned towards Torvald after reading his status screen. “Torvald, did you hit the soft cap for strength yet?”
“Nope, don’t even think I’m close yet. With how efficient essence has been, for that I’m guessing it will be around five when it starts taking more essence to increase my strength. Hopefully by then I will actually be able to wrestle with a bear and win.”
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“Uhh, man, I think you already can…” Vrax said just before he and Torvald’s consciousnesses slammed back into the cramped quarters of the inn room.
“Your turn!” Torvald boomed and grabbed a hunk of cheese, settling into the comfort of the mattress to relax and wait for Vrax to level up as well.
Vrax held his breath for a long, calming moment, letting the day's stress and fatigue wash over him. He began a slow, rhythmic breathing and gently sank into his sanctuary, ready to make a vast swath of improvements to himself. Vrax just enjoyed the gentle breeze for a moment as the life in his sanctuary swirled around him. It was… livelier than last time. Lurker mushrooms hissed as they caught oversized dragonflies ’s from the sky; the daisy was tearing through the willow trees in the distance, leaping from branch to branch after a terrified owl. And the devourers seemed to be having the world's most sedate battle with the retriever hive. Gently nudging the curious plant as it aggressively spat forth the retrievers at them. The retrievers couldn’t get through the dense Devourer fluff, so all it accomplished was a bizarre spectacle: four Devourers tethered like balloons on a string above the retriever hive.
“Man, maybe I am a little bit weird,” Vrax said aloud as he had to sidestep over a writhing ever-thirst root that was happily halfway into the lake of essence. The lake was so full it had expanded outwards, creating a marshy bog two strides out from the normal shore, leaving innumerable wildflowers submerged with just the tops of the flowers sticking free from the glowing waters.
Vrax made his way around the lake to the most important sculpture, [Adapt Life] loomed before him. The devourer had been swapped for a simple daisy in the sculpture's outstretched hand. That's fair. I still haven't gotten to adapt one as soon as we get back, though.
Vrax began gathering the essence from the lake behind him; it rushed forward in a river, pooling around his feet and then rising into a towering column of swirling power just over his shoulder, bent forward in anticipation, and shifting slightly with his movements. He began easing essence into the sculpture, focusing on the concept of marking allies of coexistence being possible, of the predatory focus and hunger of his creations being stilled. The statue greedily gulped down the essence as he shifted to the next part, the mark itself. He had thought extensively about it and had found a solution he felt would be essence efficient. A mark of Vurune worn upon the body of those he wished protected. The entirety of the column behind him crashed into the sculpture, suffusing it with power, and then there was stillness once again as he looked to see if it had worked.
[Adapt Life](lvl5)
Change living beings to better suit your needs. Entities changed with this skill will be less hostile towards the paladin, And towards those who wear an adapted mark of the cycle upon themselves. Faster changes or changes farther from the base functions of an entity will use exponentially more mana. The more powerful an entity, the more mana required.
[Mana Cost Massively Variable] [Increased Efficiency]
[Duration Permanent]
Vrax heaved a sigh of relief that at least mostly solved the problem of friendly fire that kept popping up. At least within his party, he could easily make some bracelets that were in the shape of the cycle with the marks of life, change, death, and rot grown into them. And since it had to be adapted, he doubted anyone would ever find an easy way to circumvent his creations.
The lake behind him had receded back to its original shores, no longer flooding but still quite full. Vrax made his way slowly around the lake and passed underneath the waterfall to enter the ritual chamber, holding his stigmata. He walked up to the charred armor, looking at it fondly. It had undoubtedly saved his life more than once now and was a surprisingly essential aspect of the way he wished to wage war going forth. The essence pouring from the waterfall curved into the cave's mouth and wrapped around him comfortingly as he prepared for another important change. He needed a way to keep his army going. If his creations were destroyed, replacing them would be a massive task. Between finding them in whatever godsforsaken corner of the Forsaken Lands or dungeon he had plucked them from and then having to adapt them again, it just wasn’t sustainable.
He began pouring essence into the armor, cautious of the predatory influence that had appeared last time. Firstly, he streamed in enough to increase the garden's size once again. He pictured the rows of planter boxes within a dark void, and four more formed from the darkened shadows on the edges of his vision, the hungering eyes opening above him, casting the scene in an eerie green light. Vrax kept going, willing the adapted beings within to multiply to fill the empty space with more of themselves, to consume all that would not bow to his domain, his superiority. If they would not bend the knee to the new Lord of the Forsaken Lands, they would be used as fertilizer for those who would. Vrax threw himself from his armor essence, splashing around him as he tore his way free from thoughts that were not his own.
What the hell is that! Is that Vurune fucking pushing his influence into my Sanctuary? Vrax fumed for a moment, but his gaze drew out to the lake behind him. It was lower than it should have been, and he felt a pit in his stomach. Oh gods, what changes did I just make?
[Stigmata Wrath Of The Grove](lvl 6)
Woe befall those that would cause harm to those under the sacred canopy of our protection. Life is a struggle. Life is pain. Life is hunger. Life is fear. Let those who threaten our beloved feel naught but the wrath of the grove until they are returned to the cycle.
[Stigmata Garden, Twelve Slots Available]
Entities in the stigmata garden will make copies of themselves. The life drain of the stigmata garden will now affect a larger area and affect essence-bound entities that oppose Vurune’s chosen.
Oh….well, that answers what the hell is happening. Vurune certainly has a we are in charge, none shall oppose progress vibe to him, not exactly what I wanted on that drain effect, but it isn't a bad addition...probably...I'm going to have a hell of a time fighting around random people without accidentally killing them or having my creatures eat some poor random farmer.
Vrax looked at the armor; it looked slightly different than it had before, still charred but with hints of fresh green growth beneath the surface. The gently rhythmic pulsing of the green light emanating from the core of the armor seemed almost stronger somehow, healthier.
Vrax made his way out of the cave and to his [Decomposing Smite] sculpture. So far he had mostly ignored this; it was great but limited, and he didn’t know if he wanted to make it stronger right now, but if he could make it more versatile, that would be fantastic. It was a quick change; he imagined being able to shape the path of the smite into thin lines and then a wide cone, finally a grasping hooked barb, as he channeled essence into the sculpture.
[Decomposing Smite](lvl2)
Infuse your blows with entropy, corroding your foes and using their essence to heal your wounds. You may shape the path of the entropic energy with your will.
[Mana Cost Variable]
Vrax had used up practically all the essence in his sanctuary; the lake was nearly dry again, and the waterfall had reduced to just a trickle. The daisy scared the shit out of him, leaping from the side of the waterfall and shredding a sparrow that had alighted next to Vrax.
“Dear gods, what am I going to do with you?” Vrax said after he recovered from the jump scare.
It looked at him innocently stuffing the still wriggling bird into the slit of hooked teeth in the center of its face. “Okay, I guess the first step is to name you,” Vrax mused and let his consciousness drift back to the inn.