Path of the Ogre: Berserker

Ogre trailed behind Lam, trying to figure out if the fox was telling the truth. What he smelled from the beasts was of little help, it was a confusing collage of their natural scents combined with the sharp odor of hot emotion. Even the camp where they rested still smelled strongly of them. That scent of blood that rested about them could have easily belonged to the creatures they killed in their tutorial levels. And with the strange way time behaved in the tower, it could have passed differently for them than it did for Ogre. There is nothing for it, for now I will just need to stay on guard. Ogre thought as he picked up his pace to enter into the luminous space in the gap between the Tree of Cosm’s roots.

Borhelm’s voice carried in the vaulted space echoing loudly. He was bragging about the sum of dungeon raids, and world quests that he had the privilege of participating in. The group of beasts about him seemed only to half-listen to his words. The light radiated from a vast square of what looked like perfect pale green crystal, nearly as clear as glass. Large glowing lines of concentric circles in every color of the rainbow painted its surface. Runes made up those perfect lines, spiraling and making patterns of impossible detail within the visible borders of the lines. The colors repeated but the shades were all different. Ogre counted at least twenty-one different symbols all wonderfully complex, all unique. The crystal square floated just a paw from the strange grass of the tower and before it statues rose from the ground, on glossy black and white marble plinths.

The gray stone statues had many forms, bearing various types of clothing, armour, weapons or objects. The creatures wearing them had flat faces and longer strands of fur on their heads than the rest of their bodies. Looking at them gave Ogre a chill.

“Approach at your leisure, touch the statue that you wish to be your class, and then you will be offered a nature.” Said Borhelm, “I recommend you all to go for cleric or soldier, that way you get a shield and mace, both of which is bane to armoured foes.”

Ogre quickly checked off two classes that he would definitely not pick. The dog snorted not caring if it was arbitrary. Tulron did suggest I become a rogue, as if I’d give that pointy eared cat the satisfaction! Ogre waited until most of the other beasts chose their statues. It was a quick affair. Ogre whittled down the class that he could choose from by three but there were still many to choose from. It seemed that he boar only mentioned a handful of them. The dog passed a statue with a harp and lute, another with a sword and shield and several more, all bearing lance or spear or nothing at all. That statue gave Ogre pause. The flat faced creature had both arms behind its back and it’s mouth was opened wide. The dog could only guess at what it represented. Was it a singer, an orator, a speaker or something else? Ogre moved on. Most of the other beasts in the group were done. Ogre could assume it was because their Status Mirror already gave them an idea of what class they wanted. Or, they just had a longer time to consider than the dog.

Ogre paused between two statues. One was taller than the other and held a sword that was as tall as it was. The second held two axes in its paws. Ogre recalled a series of class names in his Status Mirror picking any of them would have been acceptable.

“Hey, Master Borhelm, you said that you wouldn’t interfere didn’t you?”

Ogre touched both statues, imagining himself wielding massive swords in both paws. He would need to be strong to wield a greatsword, however, he would have to be a lot stronger than that to wield two. A halo of sigils appeared over each statue, slowly spinning until they became a uniform blur of multihued light. Every color melded, every nature was represented. In a blink of the eye, they vanished and Ogre blinked seeing brilliant multihued light flashing over his muzzle coming from something fixated above his head.

“Piglets play, and in this world the strong need only survive. You were not reprimanded for what you did earlier, correct? Limit your greed to your social class strata and you will be fine. Maggots are needed to eliminate dead flesh. And the weak…they are already dead.”

The raucous laughter of Borhelm made Ogre wince and turn to look at the boar. As he did, he felt something strike his side. His footpaws left the stone. He tumbled through the air, and bounced along the ground as his chest seized and air blew from his lungs. Darkness cladded his vision in an abrupt murk that took long moments to clear, as he desperately tried to breathe. Copper filled his mouth, and the smell of blood filled his nostrils; his blood. The pain struck him like an afterthought. His right side felt as if it was on fire, his insides, bubbling with agony. He screamed as he bled and nearly passed out as more pain flooded him with each movement of his body.

Ogre looked at the world about him with tears in his eyes. He could not help it. The space around him was quiet, he could not smell anything over the pungent copper of his blood. It took him precious moments to see the group of weasels approaching him from the beasts that had gone before him. They were headed by two wolverines, one of which leveled an arbalest at Ogre before firing once more. The bolt shot through his right paw, which he raised to shield himself, tearing flesh and twisting bones before it struck Ogre between his eyes with a booming crack.

Warmth flowed between his eyes and his forehead felt as if there was a weight attached to it but Ogre knew that he did not have much time. I have seven and a half seconds before I die, less if I get hit again! The world about him sharpened, his heart pounded and he moved at the deadliest member of the group that attacked him. He no longer had time to think. The world went silent, and his body flushed so hot that he felt as if he was burning up.

Ogre felt an incredible surge in his body filling him to bursting with vigor. The two wolverines were surprised that he charged so many of them, so much so that only the arbalest had the chance to raise the huge iron-bound crossbow between him and the dog as a shield. Ogre acted without thought, opening his maw wide and catching both weapon and the carcajou in his jaws. The great bands of muscle in his skull stood in relief as wood splintered, iron groaned and snapped, and skull-bone cracked like bolts of lightning close enough to touch. Even with its skull crushed the wolverine tore at him with its claws, its death throes making the blows strong enough to break and crack them and the bones of its paws. This time the dog could not feel any of it, but his fleshed seemed to grow harder as his life ebbed. Ogre spat out blood, beast, and weapon, and stumbled away from the other carcajou, who took a minute to check on its companion. They shot me in the head…right in between my eyes, how am I still alive? The thoughts came and fled from him in an instant. Ogre had to focus on the present. But his mind raced. Life ebbed from him in spurts and trickles from his wounds.

The weasels circled him but did not make any move to join the fight. They would not have to. Ogre’s life was fading, his stats dropping, his strength leaking from him slowly. After looking at the aftermath of Ogre’s attack the wolverine no longer waited. It’s eyes turned a glowing red. It seemed to grow bigger not just as its fur stood on end but with the thickness of muscle nearly twice its original size. Ogre felt something strike his footpaw and looked down at a red glass vial with bronze bands of color around its lip. The wolverine struck him before he had the chance to look up again or reach for the life the vial offered. Breath left him for a second time and blood painted the sky above him as he slammed into the ground.

Twin Axes appeared in the carcajou’s paws and slammed into Ogre’s chest. The dog tried to scream but blood fountained from his nose and mouth choking him.

The beast straddled him and sent blow after blow onto his body, so quickly so viciously that Ogre could do little to stop the mad attack. Half a dozen times the axes struck his monstrous head and bounced from his skull like pebbles skimming on water. Blood painted them both when the axes found purchase in his chest, limbs, and abdomen.

He’s killing me! Ogre thought willing his body to move, to fight for his life. Once the bleed dmg hit, he would bleed out and die. The dog reached up and grabbed the forepaws of his assailant, who lurched down to bite his throat and finish him. Ogre opened his mouth wide, taking the wolverine’s head and neck into his jaws before biting deep. Bones crunched, fur, flesh, and cartilage gave way and blood gushed into his mouth and throat.

Almost immediately the carcajou stopped moving. Ogre’s heart pounded loudly in his ears driving his blood towards rents in his arteries and veins all over his body, where they would spray into the open air and empty his life on the strange too perfect grass and flagstones. He blinked at the approaching blackness forming his eyes, feeling his strength leave him. He saw the elixir at his paws and reached for it. His limbs felt so heavy. His paws grasped for his salvation, claws just touching just as a weasel’s paw closed over the vial. Despair filled him. Pain crippled him. There was no hope now. He was dead. Nervous bestial laughter rolled over him as if from a bad dream. The sounds of the weasels venting their fear in celebration of ending him. Suddenly, gut-wrenching yells and sounds of fighting floated above him. Paws jerked open his slack jaw and cleared away the gore and bones lodged deep before pouring what felt like ice and fire down his throat. Ogre wanted to scream but he did not have the strength. Life ebbed back into him before his heart pushed it back out. It felt like minutes but only fractions of a second passed.

“Godlion’s black fang, live you mutant-headed cur!” A familiar voice cursed, as more ice and fire was poured down his throat. “I can’t hold them all off. You’re going to have to keep fighting!”

Ogre floated in darkness on the edge of life and death. He seemed to live and die over and over as the bleeding drained him and elixir sustained his life. He heard the beast rummaging over the bodies near him and heard the stoppers being pulled from more vials. Ogre opened one eye, as his health reached one hundred percent. In another three heartbeats it was down to ninety. His chest seemed to shake with force of his heart pounding against his broken ribs and torn flesh sending vibrations through to his wounded organs. More blood leaked from his mouth as he stood. Ogre guessed he should have been happy that his heart beat so quickly now as it had slowed before and made him grow cold and sleepy. He checked his health again.

His stats were already down by half, with his recent wounds and the severe bleeding was still killing him. The Elixir cannot heal my wounds or stop my bleeding, no matter what I do I’m going to die! Ogre looked at the weasels and the beast that helped him. The fox held a gash on his side and his eyes drooped a bit but three weasels were down, badly injured or dead. Lam held a long bloody knife in the paw that did not clutch his side.

“I’m fine, but you are still bleeding severely,” Said Lam, “You will need to level up…here.”

Ogre took the elixir and downed it quickly before draining four more after it. Lam gave him ten more after that, all dark red vials shaped like small teardrops capped in dull bronze at the top with a tan stopper. It took only a thought for the vials to disappear into his inventory. Ogre didn’t really understand how he did it nor did he have time to. He picked up the two pig iron axes. His paws were wet with blood and gore, that squelched between his phalanges.

So I must kill as many of my enemies as I can before I go? Is it to help you out Fox…at the very least I can help you survive! But I don’t even know how to level up or what wisdom, exp, or soulweight can do to help me. “I’ll slay as many as I can, Lam, run while I distract them.”

Ogre shot forward.

“No you fool, dog! You will heal fully if you level up, get enough wisdom or exp and you will live! How much will you need?”

Ogre moved as if he was fighting all his life, the flow of the axes felt right as they spun in his paws. But the words invigorated him. He hacked into the shoulder of one weasel as it tried a clumsy parry far too slow for the dog. The flesh gave easily. How much will I need level up? The thought was answered with a banner.

What does that mean in terms of wisdom and exp?

Ogre calculated, splitting a weasel’s skull in three parts with blows that once bounced off his mammoth head. He was already stronger than they were, but he was growing weaker as his injuries drained his stats and life.

Ogre breathed in deep, the weasels about him were getting set. Some had shields and swords, others, spears. He was grateful that none of the ones remaining had any bows or crossbows. The dog summoned the elixirs in his inventory with a thought and drained five back-to-back. He could not afford to get hit or to wait. He was a third less powerful as he was before the carcajou put a bolt through him. Ogre opened his maw, baring fangs to the root ceiling above him and howled his frustration and pain to the vaults above.

Ogre froze, a slow vicious grin painting his muzzle with his red teeth. That is fortunate!

They fell before him like wheat to a scythe, screaming as they were disemboweled, roaring as they fought for life, and whimpering as they died. The twin axes were special, they carved through iron-banded shields with great ease hacking off the limbs underneath. Some shields rebuffed him but he came back with a savagery of a beast one paw already in the grave. They cut him deep but the skill: Bloodlust gave him enough health to reduce the cost of severe bleeding and with the conditional passive of Deathknoll he had enough time to call forth the last of his elixirs.

At full health Bloodlust would have run out in less than seven minutes, draining from him as the blood leaked from his red soaked form. However, as his health dipped his vigor surged from Trollblood Vigor, giving him a greater pool of vigor points to call forth. Ogre roared again, lifting a weasel overhead before clamping his jaws over its lithe torso, tunic and all and biting deep. It screamed and gurgled spraying blood from its maw as it drowned in its blood. Ogre tossed the broken body down and waded into another group of the weasels. His vigor points replenished itself as quickly as it ran out. At full health, the vp did not reset but Bloodlust was stretched and compressed as elixir and bleed warred for his life within his sweat, gore, and blood-soaked form.

Eventually, Bloodlust left him.

It took minutes for Ogre to activate Bloodlust again. It wasn’t enough. Ogre felt panic rise in his chest as he swung the two axes at the same time at a weasel with a pair of daggers. What could it give me with its death? Fifteen more insight? What would that help? There were four more weasels left after the rogue with the daggers. If they had similar wisdom and exp as the others he was doomed. Ogre looked to the rest of the group that had yet to attack. They watched the fight carefully, stepping well out of the way. Many of them smelled afraid. They are too weak then, even if I could kill them in cold blood would it matter? Ogre calculated it quickly, feeling as if his mind was working faster than it should. No, not if they are at similar levels as the weasels. Two loud ‘clangs’ touched his ears what seemed like a heartbeat after his axes were parried up and wide. The daggers crossed his body in an ‘x’ pattern splashing blood over him and his assailant.

The weasel grinned as Ogre stumbled back in shock. The other thirteen managed to strike him here and there, but they were all glancing blows, with barely enough force to make him pause. These blades cut deep. The cuts burned, his entire body hurt, the dog shook with the pain, swallowing the whimper that tried to leak between his clenched teeth. He looked at the other weasels, some of them were clad in pieces of plate, chainmail shirts or thick dark leathers. They were higher level than even the carcajou if they were all as strong as the Rogue. The weasel with the two daggers slipped close enough to embrace Ogre bringing one dagger in tight to his gut, a feint as the other slowly moved towards his eyes. His axes were still up where the beast parried them, so he brought them down, like a pair of thunderbolts. The weasel could not scream but the blood painted them both in arterial deep red. It was a critical attack, such damage couldn’t be anything less than that.

Ogre drug the axes from the torso of the weasel where they met and let the pieces of the creature drop to the ground before him. The wounded status no longer drained his stats but they were less than half of what they were before. All save for his power and hp and bloodlust boosted both. He turned to the other weasels most of which would have more health than the Rogue and roared his battle cry. He had less than nine seconds left before he bled out. Bloodlust drained from him once more.

It was not enough. He was lucky the weasels he felled had elixir, they brought him so low together that he had use every one of the vials as he fought. It took minutes, and many vials and yet he still bled. Ogre was back up to twenty-two seconds of life, when Lam approached him, warily.

“You haven’t leveled up yet have you? Why? You must have absorbed enough wisdom and exp to reach level 30 by now.”

20 seconds before he would die.

“No…” Said Ogre, “I need 1000 insight to get from level 0 to level 1.”

“What!” The fox exclaimed, “You’re level 0? And it takes you…a…thousand insight? That’s not possible, for everybeast else it was only one. For me it was one.”

Ogre smiled at Lam, ruefully. It would be that much harder for me, it’s not enough that I’m a dog in a cat’s world! “It doesn’t matter…I’m dead…I don’t have enough insight.”

“…What about the others?” Lam asked. “If you slay them, would it be enough?”

“They didn’t do anything to me, Lam.” Said Ogre trying the fox’s name out.

“You will die…Ogre, we are running out of options.”

“I am out of options.”

15 seconds Left.

“You could ask, Borhelm, I’m sure he has a higher grade of elixir that may heal internal bleeding.”

“I don’t even have enough time to try to convince him. Slaying those weasels only worked because I got elixir as some of the loot from their bodies. Talking to him might be useless, he’ll likely use up the time I have by speaking about himself…no Lam, there is no point. I’m going to die.”

10 seconds.

“Borhelm said…” Lam looked morose as he spoke, pausing as he looked at Ogre and then away. “Soulweight could be used to unlock the full wisdom from a monster gem. But that is useless. I don’t even think beasts have them. And worse only cats and those they deem worthy have even seen soulweight.”

Ogre looked away from Lam towards the two statues that he touched. Did he really see all the natures dance over them before their light circled his head? “I have soulweight. I got it as I slew those weasels.”

5.

“The gems?” Lam said hopefully.

Ogre looked up at his tone and thought of an item he got as loot from the wolverines. The uncut gem was dark brown and weighed less than it should have by the way it fit his hand. The dog touched the gem, reaching out with his mind in desperation and offering a bit of the soulweight he gathered.

3.

The gemstone glowed with a brown light, as Insight trickled into him, lowering the sum he needed. Hope rushed into him as hot as fire, as bright as the sun. He was about to die and he could save himself!

2.

He put every bit of soulweight that he could into the gem.

1.

Darkness took him. His eyes closed as if they were tied to mountains and cast into an abyss and ice clad him where warmth once leaked from him. I’m too late. I figured out a way to live too late. If only I had longer.

Pleasure flooded him in impossible golden waves. His wounds closed and healed. His body filled with might and vitality that made his heart roar with the song of the mighty. But most of all it was the sweet goodness of it that shivered through his body from the claws of his footpaws to the tips of the hairs on his ears. It felt so good, it hurt so sweetly. His senses soared. The world grew brighter, more detailed, impossibly so. A soft wind that he could not feel before embraced him in a warmth that not even a mother could duplicate. It was too good. Abruptly it was gone. And it left Ogre wanting, needing more. He howled his lost to the vaulted roots above him.