Curselock

Chapter 69: Cores

Leland let out a deep, long, slow, sigh. He inwardly cursed, thankful that the battle was over before it really started. A rank two monster was one thing, but two rank two monsters that fought together? He had heard of such things before, but monsters were supposed to be mindless killing machines.

Goblins, gnolls, and other partially sentient beings were one thing, but an undead? A being that couldn’t easily be killed? Leland was starting to think they needed to complain to the guild. At the very least they should get a bit more compensation for their troubles.

“Everyone okay?” he finally asked, mainly worried about the now cooling berserker.

Glenny was first to respond. “Yes. We made a lot of noise, I’ll go look for any more undead.”

With that, the rogue was off, invisible as ever. Leland took the time to console his friend with a heavy pat on the back. Jude twisted, his eyes bloodshot and his nose widely flaring with every breath.

“You okay there?”

Jude stared for a long moment before his face fell. He looked away. “I’m fine.”

Frowning at the odd behavior, Leland said, “Good. There might be more around, so get up.”

When Jude didn’t move, Leland lightly kicked him. “Get up. We are not done here. There is still danger.”

Jude glared at him, begrudgingly straining to his feet. He picked up his axe, looking at the flat metal of the blade. He grunted, sending it back into his hand tattoo. At that point, he just kept breathing. Deep, long, and slow.

Watching his friend from the corner of his eye, Leland was about to speak up. Jude, however, cut him off. “Thanks, Leals,” was all he said.

With that, the pair circled the sundered building in the direction Glenny had gone. The rogue made his presence known with an abrupt whisper, telling the others where more undead were. Over the next hour, the team easily destroyed their quota of lesser undead. Soon they had their packs full of depleted undead cores – the quest objective.

Glenny did most of the work, his cloak making the battles continuous and simple. After the first few undead, he had a knack for finding the cores after only a few seconds. Breaking the cores, however, was a different story. But the lesser undead were slow and easily manipulated, making the fights more of conjuration practice than anything.

Again the point that Leland was a terrible fighter against undead made itself known. He was able to easily fracture the lesser undead’s bones, yet his lack of precision ended his usefulness. Without being able to cause pain to the enemy, Leland’s curse simply didn’t do much. Occasionally he would break an important bone like the femur or pelvis, but those were few and far between.

As it turned out, breaking an inner ear bone didn’t slow an undead at all.

Jude, meanwhile, sat most of the fights out. He brooded quietly to himself, watching his invisible friend wreak havoc through the undead horde. There was no reason to involve himself, especially since he would just rage-out again and become an issue for the others.

Once everything was concluded at the ruins, the group left and quickly found themselves en route to a small village. It was a bit out of the way from Frostford, but the quest giver for the undead cores lived there. They would turn in the bat parts at the next small town, any local guild branch, really.

A few hours after the ruins, Jude spoke up, “I think it’s my Legacy evolution.”

Leland and Glenny looked at each other. “What is?”

“Why the knight’s taunt made me… enraged.”

Frowning at that, Glenny spoke up, “How do you mean?”

Jude made a disgusted face. “A simple taunt made me lose my mind when a Hearth Bat’s full screech didn’t? I’ve been thinking about that for awhile, and I can only conclude that my Legacy changed somewhat after evolving.”

“So what? Your Legacy is now sensitive to taunts? What about insults?” Leland asked.

Frowning, Jude said, “I don’t kno—”

“You’re dumb,” Glenny interrupted.

Both Jude and Leland looked at him. “Guess insults don’t make you mad,” he muttered.

With that, Leland sighed. “It seems like we all have stuff to improve on. You both have been telling me not to worry about my Legacy, so I guess it's time to return the favor.” He looked Jude in the eyes. “Don’t worry about enraging during battle. We both are there to help if you do. Learning to control it will take time, we all know that. So don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Jude slowly nodded before looking to the dirt trail.

An idea sprouted in Glenny’s head, one he didn’t wish for. “Jude… how ‘bout some music? Those lessons better be paying off.”

With that, Jude flushed red. “H-how do you know about that?”

“I followed you, duh.”

“Oh, right…”

Leland looked between the pair. “Oh is that where you snuck off to the other day? Huh, and here I thought you had a girlfriend or something.”

Shaking his head like he had water in his ears, Jude pulled his harmonica to his mouth and started to play.

The boys strolled into the village with their heads held high and giggles on their lips. They didn’t mind the sideways looks, nor the already spreading gossip. They had only one objective in the area, one that they were prepared to fight for.

The shop didn’t have a name, only a sign with a picture of an iron cauldron and a large wooden stirring stick. They entered and instantly were accosted by the smell. Rotten meat and molding food blocked their path toward the counter like an invisible brick wall. They each choked at the horrid room, their eyes tearing up.

The room housed overflowing jars of stuff and sticks of other stuff hanging from the ceiling. Mold covered most of everything, even the walls and floorboards. Looking past the counter, a draining falcon was strung up, its neck slit and feathers already picked. They all paled at that.

Glenny had it the worst, his enhanced senses from his Legacy breaking his lunch up. He left as quickly as he entered, shoving the pack of undead cores into Leland’s hand.

Leland and Jude, in turn, gave their friend a look of betrayal.

“How can I help you?”

They spun at the scratchy voice, finding an old woman. She stood with a major hunch, shorting her height by nearly half. Her posture allowed the boys to see the top of her head and hair, or what was left of it. Only a sparse few strands of thin gray hair hung, each woven between beads, sticks, and the odd bird skull.

“We are here about the undead core quest,” Leland regretted speaking, his mouth suddenly filling with the horrid taste of the room. “There’s a problem, however.”

The woman waved them over with her tattooed hand. A depiction of a wire-frame cauldron lay silently on the back of her palm, along with a similar large stirring stick. The mark of the Lord of Witches.

“Get on over here, I’m not going to bite. My Lord has nothing to do with them.”

Leland and Jude knew what she spoke of instantly. It was a sad fate to become a Legacy of the Witch. Having a connection to Witches, the murderous vile creeps with the “W” branding on their forehead, no matter how small, was a fate left to a few. Yet, Legacies of the Witch had it the worst, as their names were keenly similar.

Leland and Jude also knew not to hold prejudices about these folks. Their only crime was accepting a Lord with a name similar to murderers.

Setting the pack down and pulling out the undead cores, Leland paused on two larger ones. They were slightly bigger than the others, like a quarter to a nickel, but still shined with a hint of dark energies.

The old woman’s hand shot out, snatching the two cores from Leland. “A knight and a nightmare. How interesting.” She shook the small orbs, then held them to her head and shook again.

Leland cleared his throat. “Right so—”

“Here is the money for the quest.” The old woman sat a small sack on the counter. She then pushed it slightly toward the pair.

“That’s not going to cut it,” Jude said plainly. “The quest listing was only for undead, lesser undead, not named mutations of a rank two monster.”

The Legacy of the Witch mocked Jude’s speech with wordless gestures. Then, with a roll of her eyes, slid all of the cores off the counter and into a small bin.

“Hey! Give them back! We aren’t giving them unless you pay for the higher quality cores!”

Jude and the woman stared at each other. Passion and irritation clashed for a long second, enough time for Leland to become used to the smell.

“Just pay us for the extra cores, lady. We got enough lessers to cover the quest. If you can’t afford the higher quality ones, then we will sell them elsewhere.”

She turned to Leland. “I have no more money to give.”

He reached out toward the bin. “Then we have to insist you give—”

The woman’s lightning fast hands shot out again, this time grabbing Leland’s outstretched hand. She let loose a low growl. “I will have these cores.”

Trying to pull his hand back and failing, Leland said, “Then buy them from us.”

The woman’s eyes fell at that, directly onto Leland’s’ hand tattoo. She quirked her head, letting go. “That is not right. You cannot have that.”

“What?” Jude spit. He snatched the bin back.

“Y-you must leave. You dare bring that into my home?” She seethed the last word, like a snake warning all who dared near. Then, her eyes twisted, turning solid grey.

Muttering escaped her lips, ones Leland strained to hear. “Curses… Death to— millennia. How dare you! How dare she!”

Leland leaned back, frowning at Jude. He reached into the bin, taking the higher quality cores back. Then, like the motion set off a trap, the small room became thick. The woman slowly started to raise, levitating as odd magic flowed around her. Her muttering became manic at this point, signaling to the boys to leave.

As they neared the door, her words became booms and shouts, each directed at Leland,hitting him with the force of a decent slap. He stumbled at one, tripping into a shelf full of withered herbs and jars of beetles. The word itself hit harder than the power it imbued. It made him pause, it made him look back.

Static had taken over the woman, flashes of white lightning threatened to fully form. She pointed at him, slamming an invisible force into his gut. He skidded across the shop’s floor, toward the open door.

“Get out!” she screeched, her voice rippling with dreadful augmentation. “How dare a Calamity enter my home!”

With that, Leland didn’t wait around any longer. He took the warning for what it was and ran.