Posts from Rotterdam Forest Spider (Morning)

Sylv, druid. Attribute distribution: 10:25:15:10; 10:20:5:5
Skills:
1) Connection with Nature 1: allows attracting certain types of animals and plants to his side. The presence of such creatures nearby increases the power of the druid's spells.
2) Earth Magic 1: allows learning earth element spells of the first circle.
Actions:
1)Rooting. Doubles willpower but reduces thinking speed to zero.
Mana: 5, OD: 2
2)Earth Spike. This spell deals relatively low damage but has a long range.
Mana: 6, OD: 3, range: 18 (can be changed). Damage: 16-20 (critical 22)
3)Trivial Sylvian Sword
OD: 5, range 2 (cannot be changed). Damage: 16-24 (physical); crit 28 (ph)
Inventory:
1)Ragged Cloak
This garment is supposed to protect its owner from rain, although in the case of this cloak, it will at best protect against mushroom spores.
Water damage resistance +3%
Maximum wear: 50
2) Coins: 2 coppers
3)Letter to the Order
4)Trivial Sylvian Sword x5
-6 evasion, +15 speed

Current characteristics:
Health 200
Damage bonus: none
Damage resistance: 3% water
Evasion: 10% (with sword)
OD: 20
Mana: 20
Initiative: 100
Experience: 481 (level 2)

Primary
might	accuracy	intelligence	vitality	willpower	speed	strength	concentration
0	0	15	0	0	35	0	0

Rotterdam woke up to the insistent cawing of a crow. He didn't want to get up, but the crow didn't give him a choice. Besides, upon closer inspection, it turned out to be not a crow, but a raven, a black one. Just a small one, which is why there was confusion.

His eyes, as usual, remained closed. With difficulty, Rotterdam pried his eyelids open, crusted with pus, and tried to say something, but couldn't utter a sound – a morning cough, an old acquaintance, was trying to break free.
- Well? What? What is it? What do you need? Speak! What is it? - he gasped, raising his hands to the sky and addressing the raven.

The raven looked at him rather strangely and cawed again, flying to the windowsill of the building, a little further from the place where it had been sitting before.

Rotterdam spat.
- Useless creature... - He looked around, searching for something to throw at the bird, but found nothing, so he spat again. - I was having such a wonderful dream...
"For the ten-thousandth time."
Does it seem like there's a new tear in his cloak? No, it's an old one.
"When I die, the homeless won't be able to find a cloak to patch up, ha-ha."
His legs weren't obeying him, but that wasn't new either. The last time Rotterdam had been with a woman was six months ago, or rather, he bought a bottle of potent liquor from a homeless woman for a copper coin, and she agreed to spend the night with him on a mattress - he hadn't had money for real prostitutes in a long time. And he hadn't washed in a month, so he hadn't seen his feet in quite a while. He doesn't like looking at them.
- You were probably waiting for lunch? My eyes and entrails? - he addressed the raven again. - The misunderstanding is clear, but you'll have to wait a little longer.
Suddenly, the elf felt sorry for himself.
- You know, I haven't had a heart-to-heart with anyone in a long time. I'm so lonely... - he sobbed. His eyes were already watering, so they didn't get any wetter. - Maybe you could be my friend? I would carry you on my shoulder, feed you rats and grain. We're not that different from each other...

Upon hearing these words, the raven flew away. But a minute later, it returned, holding a freshly killed house mouse in its beak, which it placed on the ground near Rotterdam. However, it didn't stay on the ground for long and perched on the familiar windowsill.

Rotterdam absentmindedly shoved the mouse into the only surviving pocket and looked at the windowsill. "What are you even doing here?"

Surprisingly, the raven didn't respond; it simply cawed. However, this caw seemed like an invitation, and afterward, the raven flew towards the outskirts of the city, occasionally landing on buildings along the way.

Rotterdam sighed sadly and slowly shuffled off in the same direction.

Almost at the edge of the city, he saw the following scene: between the closely packed buildings (making it difficult to squeeze through), on a small open space, stood a rather leafy tree – a chestnut. Two lumberjacks were diligently sawing the chestnut. The raven, after cawing once more, disappeared into the tree's branches.

"So, what now? Am I supposed to save his home? And do ravens even live in treetops? What does this have to do with me? Did he hire me? This creature has completely lost it."
- "Did you know that if you roast a fresh chestnut over low heat for ten minutes, then grind it into a powder and inhale it, your strength will increase tenfold for three hours, and the world will be filled with vibrant colors?" he said aloud. "In central Salinkari, there is a tribe of pygmies who settled on a gold-rich mountain and pay for each fruit. This helps them fight against neighboring goblin tribes."

Polo nodded and continued sawing the tree. Behind the chestnut leaves, the head of a crow, already familiar to Rotterdam, appeared, and then, strangely enough, another one, slightly larger.

- I mean, there are absolutely no such trees left around here; they've all been cut down and cleared out. The poor tribe is just waiting to be enslaved, and all their gold will end up with some bloodthirsty savages. And it could have gone to noble lords like you.
"Oh God, I'm pathetic, what am I even doing?"

The lumberjacks stopped.
--Chugo?
--?

- Untold riches! Something like ten tons of gold. Central Salinkari, Pigmy Valley. They pay in gold for every chestnut. The primitive pigmies don't have scales, so they pay not by weight, but by size. A large, juicy chestnut the size of a fist is equal to a hefty gold nugget the size of a fist. An orc's fist, I'd say. And you are cutting down the last tree on the archipelago. I spent my whole life in poverty because they never took me on voyages. They said, "a long-eared creature on a ship brings bad luck." Otherwise, I would have become rich long ago. Although, everyone has their own path. You probably really love your job and wouldn't trade it for wealth and fame. One day, you'll wake up at ninety in a hut made of branches and won't be able to hold a saw in your hands. You'll think, "I'm glad I lived a life as a hardworking lumberjack. I don't regret missing the opportunity at all." I would also like that, but I have gout, and it's hard for me to move. The Sylvans have a legend about a chestnut tree, where the fruits were like watermelons, and there were many of them. It was an old, mature chestnut tree. This one is quite young, but in a few months, its branches will be laden with the weight of gold ingots that it could bring to its owners.
Rotterdam kept talking and talking, even though his head was pounding, his throat was burning, and sand was being thrown in his eyes.