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#77
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Am I correct in understanding that "Apocalyptic" costs 2, "Holy Warrior" costs another 2, and "Resilience" costs only 1?
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza,
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
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#78
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Am I correct in understanding that "Apocalyptic" costs 2, "Holy Warrior" costs another 2, and "Resilience" costs 1?

Apocalyptic costs 2, and you choose between a warrior or a monk. Resilience costs 1, yes.
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#79
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In that case, I'll raise it to 2.
Take a look at the Spears as well. It's possible that there's a similar situation there.
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#80
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Railian Ebil
The dim light of a cheap lamp in the old tavern struggled against the evening darkness, faintly illuminating the faces of friends gathered around a single table. Among them were Railian the wandering merchant, his companion Elian, Rindo the fire mage and member of the mages' society, his legionnaire wife Velvet, Daosil the assassin, and Heos the Lafir archer. Their small group had formed over the years, slowly growing to its current state. Each tried in their own way to arrange their life and, naturally, their views on various issues diverged sharply, but despite this, they managed to maintain friendly relations. At any rate, this applied to situations where they met under such circumstances—as friends; no one doubted that if Rindo and Daosil had met under different conditions, the former, by virtue of his decency and law-abiding nature, would have done everything in his power to rid his country of a scoundrel like Daosil. Nevertheless, now, sitting at one table, they could afford to briefly forget their disagreements and enjoy food and alcohol as friends. The conversation was in full swing.
— So, Rail, tell us how you became a merchant; what made you step onto this path? — Heos asked the question with a "friendly" mockery in his voice, as he loved to do. He utterly despised representatives of other races and even more so traders, but beyond that, he viewed his own countrymen negatively and was generally characterized by excessive conceit and arrogance. The fact that he was sitting at one table with all these people already spoke volumes.
— Leave it be, Heos, — the fire mage intervened, — Railian has already made it clear that he does not want to talk about it.
— That only makes me more interested.
— Well alright, so be it, — under the influence of alcohol, Railian agreed for the first time since their meeting to tell them about the beginning of his journey, — let me satisfy your curiosity.
— Now we're talking.
— I was born into a family of simple Seney laborers and grew up in one house with two brothers and a sister. Naturally, supporting such a large family was not easy, so we lived quite poorly. My old man loved to tell stories about the greatness of our family in the past, about how we were aristocrats and lived without wanting for anything, but truth be told, I think it was just delusions. And even if something like that existed in the past, what significance did it have now? The fact was that we lived poorly and my brothers and I constantly had to fight for space and food in the house. When I got a job at the same production plant as my dad, life began to improve. Then, having my own money, I gathered some confidence and confessed my love to a girl I liked. To my great surprise, she reciprocated, and my old man, whom I had always hated, suddenly supported me and even started helping me with money, which had never happened before. At that time, I truly felt happy. This is not hard to understand, for despite the numerous hardships that are part of life for the inhabitants of our world—be it wars, famine, tyranny, or natural disasters—people never forget about love. Even in regions most unfavorable for the blossoming of human happiness, there are young people in whose lives this feeling stands at the top of their values and priorities.
— Heh, by my standards, your youth could be called paradise. — Daosil had obviously not become an assassin because of a happy childhood; everyone understood this and knew that it was better not to pry into his past.
— Indeed... And here you are again with your tedious romanticism, — Heos noted.
— You asked for it yourself, but if you've suddenly lost interest, I can stop.
— Oh, no. I want to hear until the end.
— Well then... Spring, more than any other season of the year, was a time of romance and passion, and I, like many other republican boys, fell into its trap. A year and a half had passed since I started dating Alira, and on this day, I was choosing flowers before our next date. Due to a certain turn of events, the florist was my aunt. Then I asked her—"what about red roses? I've always liked them, and Alira was happy every time I gave them to her." In response to my reflections, she smiled kindly and shook her head—"you have air in your head as usual, Rail. How long have you been together, a second year? In that time you could have learned about her preferences better... If she loves you, then of course she will be happy with any gift from you, blockhead! But believe me, it is much more pleasant when a gift is chosen with thoughts of the person receiving it."
— And she's right, — Velvet commented, looking displeasedly at her husband. In response, Rindo coughed awkwardly and remained silent.
— You have a good memory, Rail, — Daosil noted, — few remember the details of their youth in such depth after so many years.
— Ha-ha, what kind of merchant would I be if I couldn't rely on my memory?
— So what happened next?
— After a brief reflection, I bought a bouquet of pink peonies and headed to my beloved's house. Here I will be honest and admit that I settled on them solely so the saleswoman would leave me alone. Back then I was quite naive and inexperienced in these matters, and therefore not only could I not come to a conclusion myself, but I was also shy about asking my other half directly about her preferences, considering it something impermissible. On this day, I walked with a confident stride and almost without nervousness, whereas just a year and a half ago when I gave Alira her first roses, my heart was ready to burst from my chest... Either way, in response to this gift, Alira thanked me with a passionate kiss and invited me into her home. As it turned out, her parents were away, so that day we could be a little naughty alone with each other.
— It's getting better and better, — Daosil smirked, — so what went wrong?
— Either my infantilism or a wisdom uncharacteristic of young men went wrong—who knows? After quality time spent together, Alira confessed that she wanted to start a family, wanted children. And here I got scared. Remembering my own family, children were the last thing I wanted in life. Firstly, I didn't want to burden myself with responsibility for other lives; I didn't want to spend resources and time that I could devote to myself. Secondly, young families seemed irresponsible to me... At any rate, that was the example my family set. In any case, I didn't want it. I said so directly, but she continued to insist, as if my opinion didn't matter. Eventually, a few weeks after this conversation, we had to break up and this became the last thing that linked me to my old life, because... Well, let's just say, my father was not happy with such a turn of events. As it turned out, he had hoped very much for a marriage alliance with Alira's family, as they were a wealthy and influential family, but I, in his words, not only failed to take advantage of this opportunity but also turned their family against ours. Quite expectedly, he beat me brutally and took all the money I had, even those I had earned myself. Such a life continued for several months until I finally grew sick of it. On one such day, I took everything of value we had in the house and ran away. That is essentially how my path as a merchant began—a new life forced me to learn how to handle money correctly and determine the value of various items. At first, this was necessary for survival, and then for enrichment. Nothing tragic or particularly interesting.
— Truly indeed, — Heos noted with dissatisfaction, — I expected more. It's even strange that you didn't want to talk about it before; this is the most tedious life story of all I've ever heard.
— Perhaps that is why I didn't want to do it?
— Heh, true enough.
After this, those gathered chatted and drank until it was finally time to say goodbye. Velvet and Rindo planned to return to their work, Heos intended to head wherever his eyes led him, Daosil naturally did not disclose his plans, while Railian and Elian planned to visit Tsondokh Sizeb. When four of the present departed, Elian put a hand on Railian's shoulder and said with compassion that they didn't need to know what happened next.
And only those two know what happened next.

As it turned out shortly after Railian's escape from his childhood home, he had a real talent for the craft of trade; he possessed a sharp and calculating mind, sensed danger well, and always knew who and what was worth dealing with, and which affairs and persons were not. Thanks to these skills and talents, he managed to quickly make a fortune and live a life he could previously only dream of. Naturally, all this was the fruit of his hard work, and therefore this success greatly boosted his self-confidence. Despite this, he always felt that trade was not what he wanted from his life. He had always wanted to paint or compose music but alas, he never had a talent for it, and no matter how much he tried, he never managed to achieve even some small success in this. To some extent, he felt envy toward people gifted in this direction, but he wished them no ill; on the contrary—he was interested in them. When it became known that one of the warriors he hired to guard his house was a very talented musician, Railian was sincerely surprised and told him that he could earn much more with music than with the warrior's craft. Even Railian himself was ready to pay him for it. The musician, however, refused. His music was for the soul and heart, not for clinking coin. Such devotion to one's craft greatly surprised and inspired Railian, for whom his own craft was exclusively for earning a living but brought no satisfaction to the soul. Subsequently, the boss and his subordinate became good friends; they went hunting together, drank, played various games of wit, and generally had a good time. Railian himself spent this time collecting paintings, however, he bought not those that were more expensive and famous, but those that he liked himself, for which many colleagues called him a man of bad taste, a bumpkin, etc., although his friend on the contrary approved of such an approach and said that a person should not depend on others' opinions and must believe their own heart. Otherwise, the life of the young entrepreneur was more than satisfactory and probably greater success awaited him in the future, if only he hadn't one day made a fatal mistake.
During one of the numerous business meetings, which were commonplace for Railian in those days, one of his merchant acquaintances spoke to him about the topic of family, asking why such a young and successful man had still not married and so on. Remembering his past experience with Alira, Railian completely refused all this—he believed he was fine as it was, and a wife, let alone children, were not needed by him. Despite this, the merchant continued to convince him until finally Railian stopped him and asked directly what he was after. The merchant confessed that he wanted to offer him an introduction to a virgin of unearthly beauty with an excellent character and great intelligence, an ideal woman. Naturally, in exchange for a modest fee for the introduction. Railian Ebil was sure that this was a deception, however, the sum really was not that large, so he decided to agree—why not? He risked nothing, and this money was an appropriate payment in exchange for a small amusement.
Unfortunately for him, the merchant did not lie; the girl indeed matched the description and even more. Nalira Tires easily captured the young merchant's heart. She held her own confidently in intellectual, philosophical, and professional conversations with Railian, possessed strong attraction and, naturally, was very beautiful. She had delicate facial features, eyes like a cat's, gorgeous long hair the color of a raven's wing. A single mole above her lip seemed to emphasize her unique appearance. Besides this, although she was very slender, Nalira Tires was distinguished, as the young businessman admitted to himself, by succulent hips and a full chest—just how he liked it. He fell in love again and, as in his youth, lost his head, but this time he did not stop at simple relations and decided to make the girl his wife, which he soon achieved. The newlyweds spent many happy moments together and Railian decided for himself that he was ready to start a family and become a father—if his spouse wanted it, he would not turn away from her. Moreover, now he had enough money to allow his children to grow up in comfort and decent conditions. Life, however, went a slightly different way. Six months after the marriage, Nalira Ebil's monetary appetites grew sharply; she began to spend more than Railian could earn. He tried several times to talk to her about this, but each time he left with nothing; every time his beloved's sweet words clouded his mind and prevented him from resolving this issue once and for all.
One day, Nalira happened upon the stories that Railian enjoyed writing from time to time, trying in this way to engage in something not for earning money, but for the soul, since nothing had worked out with music and painting. Then Nalira laughed and told her husband that those born to crawl cannot fly; do what you are good at—money. For some reason, this wounded Railian much more than everything else in his past life. Sadness mixed with anger forced him to throw away his drafts, which were soon "found" by Elian, the warrior-musician, close friend and subordinate of Railian. He said that these works, although not distinguished by high literary skills, were very interesting to read and well reflected the spiritual organization of their author. He also added that any attempt at art deserves respect, but this only angered Railian—he said he hired him not to give lectures and even less so to rummage through his trash. Elian apologized and said nothing more, while Railian himself later regretted it; he didn't want to say those words to a friend who simply wanted to encourage him.
A few months later, life in the Ebils' house became unbearable for its master. He could not find common ground with his wife, their relationship deteriorated noticeably and she now blatantly neglected him, family expenses continued to exceed income, he still hadn't apologized to Elian, and besides, bad rumors about Nalira Ebil began to circulate through the city and among merchants. On one of those hard days, Railian returned home earlier than planned only to catch his spouse in bed with two other men, one of whom was that same trader who had once introduced the girl to him... At that moment, all the accumulated fatigue, sadness, and anger burst out and Railian fell into a berserker state, drowning in madness and rage. When he came to his senses, there were two corpses beside him, and a bloody candlestick fell from his trembling hand. Nalira was screaming while sitting on the bed. The merchant collapsed upon her and began to strangle her until she gave up the ghost. Coming to himself, Railian huddled in the corner of the room amidst three dead people and covered his face with his hands. What had his life turned into and who had he become? He was a loser and a murderer... Unable to cope with the weight of life that was too heavy for him, he did not rise from the spot for more than a day, until finally information about what happened reached people interested in this. No, not representatives of authority, but organized criminals, members of which this whole trio were. They came for revenge and profit. Railian, although well-developed physically, was not a warrior, and all his guards scattered wherever they could when they learned who he had dealt with. He surrendered, deciding to accept the fate that life had prepared for him. Everything was resolved quickly, but not as he expected—the criminals attacking the house met a swift death from
the blade of Elian, the last guard of the house. After this, the warrior-musician forced Railian to pull himself together and flee from here to avoid new encounters with representatives of this gang. As a result of this event, their friendship became stronger than ever and Railian decided for himself that from now on he would live for his own pleasure and never stop in one place. He and Elian traveled much together, enjoyed the fruits of art, shared wealth and women, overcame hardships and troubles, were more than once a step away from death, but never despaired. Elian was always a free spirit, and it was much easier for Railian to cope with adversity when a kindred soul was beside him.
Rail
Origin
Republic Humans: +2 skill points; +1 to skepticism for each unit of will; +5 to mana for each unit of intelligence.

Characteristics
Strength: 20
Agility: 10
Perception: 20
Endurance: 20
Intelligence: 40
Will: 5
Charisma: 25

Skills and Abilities
Adventurer

+3 to all characteristics
+1 to cunning for each unit of intelligence
+1 to awareness for each unit of intelligence

✧ Companion ✧ The player gains the ability to create a partner with the Adventurer skill using the same rules as the main character; all races are available except Elees.
✧ Trader ✧ -0.5% to item cost for each unit of intelligence (not more than 50%)
✧ Silver Tongue ✧ The character is able to force a merchant to drop the price of an item by 50% (cunning vs awareness)
✧ Wandering Merchant ✧ Valuable items and increased capital at the start of the game (x2)
✧ Insight ✧ The character is able to determine a target's characteristics (perception + awareness vs stealth)

Inventory
Money
Weapons/jewelry/fabric/alcohol for sale (depending on what is possible, logical, balanced).
Mechanical watch—the last reminder of a past life
One-handed sword
Notes
Elian
Origin
Republic Humans: +2 skill points; +1 to skepticism for each unit of will; +5 to mana for each unit of intelligence.

Characteristics
Strength: 30
Agility: 40
Perception: 10
Endurance: 20
Intelligence: 20
Will: 10
Charisma: 10

Skills and Abilities
Adventurer

+3 to all characteristics
+1 to cunning for each unit of intelligence
+1 to awareness for each unit of intelligence

✧ Premonition ✧ The character senses potentially lethal danger, an ambush, a potentially dangerous character, the need for more characters to participate in a quest, etc.
✧ Traveler ✧ +0.5 to speed for each unit of agility

Polearms

Skilled Proficiency: +0.7 to damage for each unit of strength.
Accuracy: +0.5 to precision for each unit of agility
Parrying (agility vs precision)
Striking Blow: double damage; chance (precision vs evasion) to hit the opponent in a vulnerable spot and cause bleeding (-25% of maximum health; cooldown: 3 turns)

Inventory
Nagamaki
Lute
Money
___________________________
I might fix something in the coming days, I'm not the best optimizer after all. Regarding valuable items, see for yourself; if this includes equipment, it could be something from the companion's inventory.
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#81
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A little over an hour and a half, I believe, and that’s an absolute record.
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza,
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
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#82
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Berserker
Immune to stealth attacks during combat
+0.5 to accuracy for each point of strength
[/COLOR]
Skills:✧ Endurance ✧ Health increased by 1.5 times if no armor is used
✧ Hardening ✧ Bleeding and poisoning do not affect the character in combat
✧ Fury ✧ Until the end of the battle, each attack deals twice as much damage; the character receives 1.5 times more damage from physical attacks (x2)
✧ Rage ✧ Each attack deals critical damage for 5 turns (recharge: 5 turns) (x2)
✧ Battle Frenzy ✧ Each killed enemy increases the character's initiative and speed by 5 (x2)



Troll Combat Technique
+0.2 to accuracy for each point of strength
Skills:✧ Wall ✧ The troll takes all attacks for 3 turns
✧ Kick ✧ The troll knocks back the enemy by 20 cells, deals damage equal to strength, and stuns for 1 turn
✧ Carnivore ✧ The troll eats the killed enemy, restoring health equal to the enemy's health
✧ Charge ✧ The troll runs in a straight line and deals damage equal to strength to all enemies within a radius of 2 cells
✧ Roar ✧ The troll emits a piercing roar; enemies who fail the check (willpower against skepticism) flee in terror or surrender (x2)
✧ Deadly Embrace ✧ The troll grabs its enemy within a radius of 2 cells and chokes them, taking them out of the battle; the enemy who fails the check (strength + endurance against strength) dies (recharge: 4 turns) (x2)
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#83
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Tomorrow I’ll count the characters. Otherwise, I’ll make a bunch of mistakes now, and then I’ll have to fix them.
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#84
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Krailos



Enveloped in darkness, a dark silhouette of a female figure, too tall for human height, slowly but somehow elegantly and gracefully prowled the perimeter of a wide room with stone walls and ceiling. Small grated window slits let in only a tiny bit of moonlight, which instantly dissipated each time the mysterious guest approached.
Krailos cowered in the corner farthest from the entrance, knees tucked in, frantically trying to hide the rapid breathing of the fear breaking out from within, freezing every particle of his body. An intermittent heartbeat echoed loudly and with some delay in his ears; the pale lips of the young guard trembled noticeably, and the deathly cold fingers of his right hand clenched uncontrollably, as if still trying to feel for the hilt of the blade he had cast aside in another part of the tower.
After making several light laps around the room, the ghostly silhouette emitted a quiet, whistle-like hiss, vaguely resembling a whisper, after which it headed confidently toward the stunned warrior. With every meter, the creature's movements became more blurred, losing their former fluidity and turning into short, sharp jerks. And Krailos just sat there, unable to tear his gaze away from the unholy figure, paralyzed by external and internal horror.
Unable to contain himself, the warrior involuntarily shuddered and closed his eyes. Opening his eyelids, he found the ghost's face a few centimeters from his own. He realized that the mysterious whisper had been coming from the creature's motionless lips all this time. The ghost's facial features somewhat resembled human ones, but were too symmetrical, proportionally correct and refined, and the delicate white skin seemed to be covered by a film of thin, transparent-dark matter. The creature's pupils were absolutely empty, and in their depths, Krailos saw his own reflection with astonishment. At that same moment, the room was shaken by a distorted wail of despair, which then grew into a dull rasp. Reaching for his shield, the warrior frantically swung it before him. An unseen force immediately loosened its grip and threw him against the far wall. Trying to get up, he felt a terrible pain in his chest rising to his throat, and with his last breath, he lunged toward the door.

With a sudden movement, Krailos jumped up from behind the tavern table, overturning it and slamming his head with all his might into the low wooden ceiling of the establishment. The initial shrill scream of despair changed halfway through into dull swearing.
-You've really gone downhill. -the bartender shook his head despondently. -At this rate, you'll scare away all my customers.
-Sorry, these damned nightmares just won't leave me alone.
-Where would they even come from! Or is this from your old service?
-I asked you to keep quiet about that. -rubbing the back of his bruised head, the mercenary hissed at his acquaintance, stepping closer.
-Come on now, almost ten years have passed, who cares!
-I just don't want to drag myself into unnecessary trouble one more time. Caution never hurts. -picking up an overturned bottle of liquor from the floor, Krailos took several greedy gulps from the neck. -There, that's better. -exhaling with pleasure, he added. -What's the word on work, heard anything?
-Not much, buddy. -mumbled the bartender, briskly wiping glasses. -Although they say you can find a decent side job in Tsondokh Sizebe right now.
-The one in the north? -the mercenary frowned. -Though that's closer than anywhere near the wastes.
-Well, I'm not a travel agency here, decide for yourself. -the employee commented on his answer.
-Sigh, I hope they at least pay well; it would be a waste to trek all that way for nothing.

***

ten years ago
-Well then, private, welcome to our humble, so to speak, squad! -the elderly guard coughed hoarsely, pulled an elegant case with a smoking pipe from the deep pockets of his greatcoat, carefully packed it with tobacco, and looked for a matchbox.
-Glad to serve the republic, sir! -the recruit, chilled to the bone, snapped politely. Shuddering noticeably, he pretended to gaze into the endless expanses of the eastern wastes.
-Eh, you'll get used to the weather during your service! -the senior began to smoke. -And what about you, not a smoker?
-Sorry, I don't smoke. -Krailos explained. -And I don't drink. -he added, answering the next question in advance.
-Are you sick or something? -the guard didn't understand.
-No, sir. -the boy felt slightly offended. -I have firmly decided to lead a healthy lifestyle so that I can serve my fatherland as effectively as possible.
-Ef-fec-tively? Ugh. -the old man shook his head. -Well, that's the right thing to do. Drinking and smoking are nothing but evil! By the way, you, run over to the guys in the tower on the lower levels; they should have some booze left from the morning.
-B-but... consumption during service time... -the young warrior was embarrassed.
-Orders are not discussed, private! -the senior barked at him. -They recruit these academy graduates, I tell you. -he grumbled as his subordinate rushed off to carry out the errand. -Well, nothing, once he sits in these bleak places himself in constant fear of damned ghosts or whatever other shit, he'll realize the essence of it in a heartbeat. -finishing his monologue, the guard glanced briefly at the deserted horizon. For a moment, it seemed to him that a light shadow of a ghostly figure flickered somewhere behind the stone wall of the garrison. -I've grown old; I'm seeing all sorts of devilry now. -he shook his head tiredly. -Hope the kid brings something to warm up with quickly. God forbid those bastards drank it all without me!

***

The local mentalist, who boasted loudest about his unique skills in tracking and destroying own unholy creatures, became the very first victim of the entity trying to break out beyond the cursed wastes. And although after a few days it was tracked and "laid to rest" by units of sorcerers sent for backup, the damage dealt to the small border garrison was already irreparable. Having sensed something wrong since early morning, Krailos rushed around until late with various important errands for senior officers, until the latter finally ran out of alcohol, and a game of cards had to be forcibly interrupted because the players departed for the world of dreams right at the gaming table. The subsequent night can be described as nothing less than a true waking nightmare.
-Grr, who are you, beauty? -the old guard mumbled through his drowsiness, glancing indifferently at the motionless silent interlocutor surrounded by a shroud of darkness. Then the warrior's eye sockets slowly widened; he tried to say something, but his moving lips made no sound, and his hands clutched his heart frantically. After a few seconds, the ghost released the legionnaire's limp body from its deadly grip and smoothly glided toward the next victim.
The few who had not scattered and were able to stand on their feet tried to offer an uncertain resistance to the opponent, but without the support of a mental sorcerer, they had no chance. Krailos stood in the front ranks with a few survivors; his knees trembled, and only the motifs of the republican anthem sounded in his head. "Do not retreat!" -someone's trembling shout was heard. "Fight to the end! For the republic! For Senea!" Then the ghost, frozen for a couple of seconds before the group of guards, rushed forward with a quiet, almost soundless shriek.
Turning sharply on the spot, Krailos started running, dropping his weapon. "Damned coward!" -he heard muffled curses, soon replaced by distorted screams. The hollow thuds of the guard's boots echoed through the emptied fortress. Having crossed several long corridors, he didn't even notice when he reached a small stone tower. Climbing the narrow stairs with his last strength, he suddenly felt the full weight of his armor and shield and collapsed almost flat on the floor. The warrior crawled to the wall farthest from the entrance of the tower room and held his breath in anticipation of the inevitable.

***

Krailos came to when the first rays of the rising morning sun broke through the wide window grates and hit his eyes painfully. Barely realizing what was happening, he tried to take a sitting position and immediately felt a burning pain in his chest. Shedding his armor and somehow stretching out his shirt, he discovered with horror a deep bleeding cut that had only by miracle not reached his neck. "Holy... well, look at that..." -the guard thought. The entire fortress was bound by a seal of frightening silence, and the night guest had disappeared somewhere.
Overcoming the horror filling his body, Krailos hesitantly followed toward the exit of the tower. Descending the steps to the main entrance, he quickly dismissed thoughts of checking other allies for survivors. Instead, the legionnaire almost ran, without looking back, overcoming the aching pain, left the limits of the fortress and rushed north deep into the lands of the republic. By evening, the exhausted guard reached the first settlement, where sympathetic people provided him with all possible help.
He spent the subsequent years of his life traveling, working as a mercenary, accompanying traders and guarding merchants or researchers, as well as their belongings. Just like the other servants of the garrison, he was later recognized as dead or missing in action during the attack of monsters from the wastes, and was forced to completely sever all ties with his own past, family, and kin. He tried to drown his shameful flight from the battlefield and betrayal of his fatherland in alcohol, but every few weeks the nightmares of that night mockingly returned painful memories that he so strove to erase from memory. He did not understand why or for what reason he continued to move forward, but a subconscious desire to continue such an existence forced the former legionnaire to wander hopelessly into the void. Into the void of an already empty world.

Race:
Republic Humans: +2 skill points; +1 to skepticism for each unit of will; +5 to mana for each unit of intelligence.

Characteristics:
Strength - 30
Agility - 30
Perception - 10
Endurance - 30
Intelligence - 20
Will - 23
Charisma - 0
Unpleasantness - 15

Skills:

Legionnaire
+40% to health, willpower, initiative and accuracy if at least one ally participates in the battle
✧ Private ✧ Free skill and three skills of One-handed Weapon and Shield (x2)


Adventurer
+3 to all characteristics
+1 to cunning for each unit of intelligence
+1 to awareness for each unit of intelligence
✧ Premonition ✧ The character feels potentially deadly danger, an ambush, a potentially dangerous character, the need for more characters to participate in a quest, etc. (x2)
✧ Lucky ✧ Nullifies the effect of a lethal attack and gives the character a chance to escape from the battlefield (once per game day) (x2)


One-handed Weapon
Additional attack
Parrying (agility vs accuracy)
Accuracy: +0.7 to accuracy for each unit of agility


Shield
Skillful mastery: agility during block is increased 1.5 times (agility vs accuracy)
Stamina: +5 health for each unit of strength
Counterattack after block

Armor Wearing: removes the movement speed penalty when using heavy armor and shields.


Inventory: sword, shield, armor, heals, money

Whatever
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#85
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When you read player stories.
— Honestly, — Heos said with dissatisfaction, — I expected more. It’s strange that you didn’t want to talk about it earlier; it’s the most tedious life story I’ve ever heard.
Just kidding, good stories.
-Oh, I hope they pay well, it wouldn’t be worth it to travel for nothing.
)
He didn’t understand why and for what reason he continued to move forward, but the subconscious desire to continue this kind of activity forced the former legionnaire to trudge relentlessly into the void. Into the void of an already empty world.
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#86
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Nebok, are there no more ability fixes planned?
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza,
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
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#87
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Most likely not. But I can’t guarantee it.
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#88
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Do the Djurans (Lionfolk) not have access to the "Assassin" skill? Can access be gained through a Gladiator expert?
 

К А
Стикеры GBF в Telegram
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#89
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No. The combat skills are: steel claws, dance of death, berserk, troll combat techniques, and Haine warrior.

Added 2 minutes later
No, the legionnaire is not included.

Added 30 seconds later
I'll add it to the skill description.
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#90
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Is critical damage really x2? Does that essentially mean that the Berserker's "Fury" skill simply doubles all damage? Isn't that a bit excessive?
 

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#91
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It could also be made more potent. The cooldown duration could be increased.