We worked into the night making that sigil, and then finding books we thought were valuable. Eventually, Geoff crashed, falling asleep in Cal’s tent. We slept in shifts.
The robots tested our vigilance, but it was only a group of six, and I was able to put down two before the others were out of their tents.
In the morning, Berryhop distributed the last of her special chocolates. Geoff worked with her for a while to copy the recipe, since he was something of an alchemist himself too.
Then the two of us gathered in a Cal’s tent to discuss changing my class.
“What’s your read on Cal?” he asked.
“Good morning to you too,” I said with some sarcasm. The chocolates helped, but sleeping in shifts still sucked.
“Good morning,” he said perfunctorily. “Anyway. Cal? He into scruffy, unwashed twinks?”
“Maybe?” I said. “But he’s only ever expressed interest in women,” I stated.
“Doesn’t sound promising…”
“Aren’t you trying to get your husband back?”
“Yeah, sure, I’m a grieving widow, not dead. And even then…” he paused for dramatic affect. “My scene is fighting for legal equality, not strict monogamy, if you catch my drift.”
“No idea.”
“It’s a thinker,” he said, shaking his head.
“If it’s all the same,” I said. “I think if Cal was into you, you’d know.”
“Damn. Well. Ready to change your class?” he asked.
“Yep.”
The books we’d collected yesterday were to be for this ritual. You needed some kind of magic ink, and Geoff had a spell that could make it, as long as it transmutted ink from a book containing valuable knowledge. After some time of handing my slate back and forth arguing about builds, we eventually decided on Fighter 1/Bard 9. There was just one problem.
“If I get rid of my Fighter levels, I lose my trump card.”
“What’s that?”
“Forgive me for what I must do,” I said, grabbing Edge and showing him the weapon.
“Wicked,” Geoff said.
“If I walk around with it strapped to my back, people may think I’m in league with Sofia. Typically I summon it, and give it to Bernadette.”
“Smart. Her bonuses make that very dangerous.”
“Right!”
“Why not just give her the sword and be done with it?”
“Because I don’t want others to know how much of a threat she is. She walks around with that on her back, people may focus on her first. Also… she honestly scares me when she uses it.”
“Nah, she’s a kitten.”
I gave him what I hoped was a skeptical look, and he laughed.
“So what do I do?” I asked him.
He thought for a moment, then said, “use the bardic magical secrets.”
“What’s that?”
“You don’t talk to the DM?”
“We don’t trust him.”
“He doesn’t lie about the rules of the game. He can’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Wouldn’t be fun.”
This gave me a moment of pause.
“So what’s magical secrets,” I asked.
“It’s a bardic feature you get at 9th level. You get to mimic any one other class ability, or 3 spells.”
“Shit,” I said, a little floored. “I could get Bernie’s Sneak Attack. Or Caleb’s Healing Hands!”
“You could,” Geoff admitted. We spent a while looking at the party’s stats, trying to find the optimal feature to steal.
“I think I need to take the Sympathetic Weapon ability from Fighter,” I said after a while.
Geoff rubbed his scraggly beard then said, “pitch it to me. I don’t want you guys to die when I’ve finally some half decent allies.”
“Half decent?”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“You’re growing on me.”
“Okay,” I said. “If I’m gonna be a good Bard, I need to have my hands free for spellcasting, or playing an instrument. It’s a huge boon to be able to switch between a ranged and melee weapon quickly. Lastly — you haven’t seen what Bernadette can do with that thing, and having access to it even if I’m captured or forced to be without my weapons could be what saves us all.”
“You say that like you’ve been kidnapped before.”
“I have.”
“Pretty girl?”
“Yep.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“Did you?” I asked.
He smiled wide.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever learned a single thing in my life.”
I couldn’t tell if he was trying to quote Socrates, or if he was being ironic, but I found it funny.
“So?” I asked, laughing.
“Why not? Let’s do it!”
The ritual went by quickly. Some magic words, some flashing lights, about three or four minutes of chanting, and my character sheet sparkled with magic, then dimmed. My shiny new stats were thus:
Beznik of the Red Hand the level 1 Fighter and level 9 War Bard
Hit Points 69, Armor Class 18 (Half plate +2)
STR 12 (+1) DEX 12 (+1) CON 13 (+1)
INT 13 (+1) WIS 10 (+0) CHA 19 (+4)
Items: Adventurers’ Kit (used), Half Plate +2
Abilities from Fighter: Adrenaline Rush (170% time dilation, double movement speed) and Second Chance (Twice per day heal +25% HP)
Abilities from Bard: Dazzling Strikes (weapons attacks give off sparks, potentially distracting opponents). Inspiring Words (+60% movement speed, 10% instant healing, and +30% extra damage modifier to a party member of your choice). Improved Inspiration (You add your charisma bonus to the damage allies inflict while under your inspiration, and your Inspiring Words refresh twice as fast). Student of War (extra weapon damage equal to CHA bonus). Magical Secrets, Fighter. Spellcasting.
Skills: History, Performance, Persuasion, Social Drinking
My spells were thus:
At-Will Spells—
Little Light
Mend Item
Tiny Tricks
First level spells—
Bubble
Charm Person
Command
Curse, Minor
Heal Light Wounds
Healing Phrase
Sleep
Second Level Spells—
Invisible
Shatter
Ward
Third Level Spells—
Mass Healing Phrase
Healing Jolt
Fourth Level Spells—
Improved Invisibility
Fifth Level Spells—
Smiting Weapon
Trickery
The new spells were powerful. [Smiting Weapon] gave extra damage on attacks, and it included extra people if I ever got a sixth level slot. [Trickery] made me invisible and put an illusory duplicate in my place.
Healing Jolt, would bring someone back to life, if they’d died, but only if I got to them in under a minute. Or it would heal a lingering wound.
“I got something I need to do,” I said.
Geoff shrugged.
I walked out of the tent.
Rachel stood near the windows, rubbing her bad shoulder.
“You still have that diamond in your bag?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said, bending over and digging through her satchel. “What do you need it for?”
“You’ll see,” I said.
“‘You’ll see?’ I’m not just gonna give you a 500 gold diamond on a lark.”
“I have a spell that requires it.”
She looked at me with confusion. Then she shrugged.
“This better be worth it,” she said.
I had to stand close to take the diamond from her, but that’s where I needed to be anyway.
“Do you trust me?” I asked.
“You’re being weird.”
“This is all gonna make sense soon. I can’t really explain it.”
She nodded, and pressed the diamond to my palm.
I took the diamond in my hand, and filled it with intention. It began to glow.
My hands slapped together.
“Return to me,” I said.
The diamond shattered into dust. I clasped her hurt shoulder, and the diamond dust shot into her shoulder through the scar.
“What the fuck was that?”
“What we needed,” I said.
“Did you heal my arm?”
“Yes.”
“You used a 500 gold diamond just to heal my arm?” she accused, fury threaded through her voice.
“I know you wouldn’t have wanted it, but I know you can’t sleep —”
“Weren’t we saving that for a spell to bring back the dead?”
“We were.”
“What if someone gets hurt? You wasted it.”
“I didn’t waste it.”
“You wasted it, you stupid —”
Tears sprang to her face. She clasped a hand over her mouth. My heart broke for my friend.
“You deserve it,” I said.
She just shook her head. I pulled her into a hug.
“You deserve it,” I said again.
She sobbed. She didn’t break from me, but she whispered.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“I know.”
“It hasn’t stopped hurting for months.”
“I needed you back.”
She broke away from me. She gazed into my eyes for a moment.
“I don't know what that means,” she said. “But I promise I’ll make this worth it.”
“It was just money,” I said.
This was a damn dirty lie. It was a lot of money. It also needed to be done. I couldn’t hold back something I knew would make this amount of difference for her. Maybe I should have asked. Maybe we should have tackled this problem as a party.
But damn it, I didn’t want my friend to hurt anymore.
“It's more than that,” she said. “Anyway, you want me to use her sword?”
Rachel was of course referring to Captain Wen’s huge greatsword. Cal had used it to okay effect, and I’d used it even worse. In Rachel’s hands, we’d finally be fighting at our greatest potential.
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m fine with that. Next time I see her, I stick it through her guts.”
