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Conviction Church of Anuzish Base effect: +1 to faith, +1 to beauty and immunity to injuries and protection from lethal situations (e.g., traps) and effects (e.g., assassin skills).
Guild +2 to endurance, +2 to strength, +1 to agility.
- Oh, I see. My bad, then. Wish I had some kind of flashy name like that too... And imagine this situation — we win brilliantly and we all get promoted to the highest rank. You'll be General General, ha-ha! Alright, just kidding around, trying to lighten the mood a bit. You probably don't remember me, but I once visited your shop, bought a nice saddle there, still holding up great. Didn't expect to see you here, thought you'd leave like many colleagues did, but here you are. If someone told me a year ago we'd be jumping off the wall into Shina together — I'd never have believed it. That's life's wheel for you.
- Well, that would turn out exactly like our Protector in Niniamat! - The General chuckled, recalling the blue-haired Lady Lady. - Yes, I agree, this is all very unexpected. I hope that when this is all over, we'll still be able to recall all of this with laughter in a peaceful setting.
- Heh. I hope so, - leaving the fellow general with a radiant smile (a facial expression), he approaches another vaguely familiar face: - Hello, friend. I would ask how life is, but what's the point - it has given us all a good time, rubbing our faces against a rough table. The question that keeps swirling in my head is - how did you end up here?
If Camistella had known about Mr. Goods’ safe, she would have questioned her status as a wealthy woman. What kind of wealthy woman is she if, historically, her budget has only once barely reached one-fifth of the savings of the happy owner of the most powerful wife in all of Asuguh? And 0 + 50% is still 0. Oh, and where do rems come from in this world...
The next morning, Camistella woke up in an inappropriate state, sprawled out on a wooden horse. The voices in her head, after a boisterous night, apparently decided not to bother the lady, and therefore the Lunarian’s mind was surprisingly clear.
“Kill the mutant, burn the heretic, a life full of good deeds and exploits for the space sailor...” Camistella quietly sang, not knowing why. It seems this is something from a poem that made its way to Anush from the outside.
After reciting a few more lines of this work, Camistella barely got off the horse and approached the mirror. Her gaze ran over her own body from top to bottom, followed by a satisfied nod. Yes, she has preserved herself quite well for a corpse divided into three parts.
After that, Camistella dressed and began to give orders. To the servants – to bring the horse and a couple of other surfaces into order, to Erish – to escort the lady to Phainant. It was time to check if the celebrated artist had returned to Enlil. It would be very sad if his tormented body had already been hanged somewhere by the Calcite raiders, who do not appreciate art very much.
Origin Cororat (Marcellus) Skill of a sailor, merchant, musician, singer, or artist, +1 to beauty, +1 to charisma, +1 to faith. Male strength +1, endurance +1, perception +1, agility +1, luck +1.
Skills Sailor No penalty in sea battles, water resistance +25%. Healer In exchange for 1 AP and a UMNS (universal medical supply kit), the healer can bring a fallen character back to life or cure a fresh injury (separate action). Herbalist The character can use medicines from their inventory without needing to place them into another's slot. Bow No penalty, crits available. Mastery (Bow) +5% to accuracy, +5% to evasion, +5% to critical damage chance for the chosen weapon type. Welfern Sword No penalty, crit available. Control The character attacks all opponents that appear on their line of attack. Dexterity SP +1 Thrown Weapons
Equipment Weapon 1: Masterfully crafted bow Damage: 50 Range: 10 Shield/secondary weapon/spare weapon: Masterfully crafted Welfern sword Damage: 70 Accuracy +10% Head: Asugukh helmet Evasion +5% Body: Asugukh armor +20 to defense. +5% to evasion. +1 to willpower. Shoulders: Magic cloak Protects against the sandstorm effect. Shoulders. Hands: Asugukh gloves +15% to damage (BB), +3% to accuracy, +5 to defense. Footwear: Desert boots Protect against the quicksand effect. Accessory 1: Cororat medallion +1 to AP. Other 1: Quiver of arrows [15/15]
—Well, I see. They can send things across a hundred lands, but when it comes to sending something useful, all you get are photographs. —He waves his hand dismissively, puts away the useless junk, and walks off in a random direction. —At least the second one is better, but the first one should have been someone who was actually interested. Did he really learn nothing in his life? Couldn't he have shared some information? Oh, forget it. Jerks.
Lost in his own thoughts, he doesn't immediately realize he's in the port area. This time, however, he continues on, through the deserted harbor, past the ships laden with heavy weapons, the bustling soldiers, and the unfortunate refugees. Rounding a well-trodden, clean beach, he steps into the shallow, warm pebbles heated by the spring sun. The divine luminary lazily rolls across the midday sky; to his left, the still-intact city hums, and to his right, the sea waters barely ripple.
Passing the last, drowsy buoy, he continues along a ridge of sickly-pale slabs, once spewed from the ocean depths by the powerful currents of a mighty water spirit. Here and there, he sees leaning wooden docks, and broken barrels and scorched planks scattered along the shore. Few passersby and fishermen notice the young man, and who in their right mind would venture out of their homes now? From here, you can't feel the soul-corroding shard of evil, you don't hear the mindless zombies moaning, the calcites-cannibals howling, the frightened townspeople screaming, or the guards giving orders. Only the call of the sea, so close and yet so far, is occasionally answered by the cries of seagulls.
—These are some good boots. —The young man murmurs approvingly, walking through the sandy dunes in his new outfit. —So this is what the first day of spring feels like! Exactly one year has passed since the beginning... And no one even noticed.
Climbing onto a rocky outcrop shaped by Mother Nature, he surveys the blinding, cheerless coastline. —And I missed my birthday again. Where was I then? Ah, yes, in the library, reading about obelisks. Not a day of rest since then. Just one endless, bloodthirsty nightmare. Thank you, fate, for such a wonderful gift. I deserved it, without a doubt.
Winding through the rows of sandy thorns, he reaches an old, abandoned pier. Like a rusty blade, it pierces the murky, mirror-like surface of the sea. Sitting on the edge, the scholar takes off his boots and lowers his feet into the cool water. —It's time to test Camistella's theory, to see if we can truly die. But I don't feel like it, because fate will do it for you soon enough.
Unfastening his backpack, he takes out Inak's instructions. He gently runs his hand over the crumpled cover, glances at the hastily scribbled notes. A fleeting, reminiscent smile appears on his face. —I should have talked you out of it, my friend. You knew that even with Dog, you wouldn't be able to defeat the cursed soul. Forgive me. He places the instructions on top of a damaged photograph. —I'm not a man of faith, but wherever you are... I won't forget you. Even if I don't do it myself, my revenge will be passed on to someone else, and sooner or later, it will find them both. And before they plunge forever into the black void of eternity for their shameful and worthless souls, they will definitely see your face, as well as the faces of everyone they killed for fun.
He confidently takes a fishing rod in his hand, and the taut line cuts through the air. —So, let's finally go fishing. We promised... And then, maybe Anuzish will see us with the king. I won't forget anyone.
A small cup is placed nearby, and a bottle of Barsikondian wine is uncorked. —I wanted to save it for a special occasion, but there will be no other. To you, my friend.
Cast, throw, throw, cast. The water refreshes, the wine delights, and the sea breeze caresses his face. —And who else? Ayya? She's more interested in noble knights. What can a weakling do against that? "Four-eyes." —He casually adjusts his glasses, which have slipped down his nose. —Nergal? He's always running away. New acquaintances? We're only together because of a common goal; otherwise, no one would even talk to me. Cherry? Too rational, and she would never consider me an equal. Zavirushka?... Well, yes...
Throw, cast, cast, throw. Whether there will be a catch is up to fate. And the wine is already gone. —And the chance to escape... we blew it. Because I'm too weak-willed. A pushover. Finally, he holds the photo in his hands, folds it into a paper airplane, and launches it into the ocean with renewed vigor. The water and salt devour the ink, and soon the last memory of the unfortunate fisherman disappears beneath the surface of the sea, which he loved so much. —Although, maybe it's for the best... At least they'll help the homeland. And I... Useless, incompetent, having lost everyone close to me. And how did I end up like this?...
His head is thrown back towards the darkening sky, and a clenched fist is raised towards it, and his lips utter a desperate cry: —Damn artificial meat!!
"What's going on there... You need to look at who's coming out before you go in... And it's better to ask Camistella for a charm, just in case..."
Erica runs away from this place and then goes to the Guild of Wonders.
Today, one of the miracle workers was at the Guild of Wonders. - Ah, Erica. Good day! - Belladonna Abazhur smiled warmly. - It's always a pleasure to see you; many of our colleagues could learn a thing or two from you about proper attire. Otherwise, they dress like... Well, you know who.
Added 1 minute later Happy Life
- Heh. I hope so, - leaving the general with a radiant (facial) smile, he approaches another vaguely familiar face: - Hello, friend. I would ask how life is, but what's the point - it has given us all a hard time. The only question that keeps coming to mind is how you ended up on the wall?
- Hello. Well, I want to gain allegiance to Asugukh, and then I'll get housing right away. Maybe I can earn some decent money and finally reunite with my beloved. And how about you?
- It's a reasonable plan; they'll need to rebuild and recover their losses, and all the refugees will need help. As for me...? I could say something grand, like it's my civic duty, but that kind of pompousness makes me cringe. The truth is, I don't particularly like some of the Calcite people, but I have nowhere else to go, and I don't have any family left. So, I might as well lend a hand to a worthy cause; maybe I'll figure things out for myself along the way. Wandering the world aimlessly like a rag in the wind... I don't really have any special skills anyway. And even if I did want to, how would I do it? The ports are closed, and I can't even leave by land.
🎪🏹: Old news! ⛓️♿: Kg/am. 🐱🐲: Don't start with me here. 🎪🏹: Or maybe they threw him in the Dungeon? Just in the neighboring one, not where Erica and the others are? 🐱🐲: The Sylvan were just upset that they didn't win, and they did all sorts of things to him. 🎪🏹: Hehe, what? ⛓️♿: You don't want to know. 🐱🐲: You should ask Camestella, she's our expert on the Sylvan.