Something tells me I won't be taken into the party, so I'll have to look for non-human NPCs and level up with them...Antaer
In a vast cave hidden deep within the northern mountains, whose snow-capped peaks soared to the very heavens, an impenetrable darkness reigned. Only one with keen hearing and the ability to see in pitch black could notice that there were actually two Assarians in the desolate Dungeon—judging by their appearance, they were still mere children, although they could well have been in their fifties.
One of the elves was older, shouting something to the younger one, who was trying to reach his opponent with a small wooden stick that vaguely resembled a simple club. Despite all his efforts, the second elf failed to achieve his goal; he would swing and strike, but the elder would evade every time with incredible ease. This continued for several dozen minutes, but for little Antaer, time dragged on endlessly slowly, as if an entire eternity had passed in this forgotten underground world where his few kinsmen settled.
Antaer never blamed fate; life in the northern Dungeons of Ertenia suited the young Assarian just fine—or rather, he simply had no time or opportunity to compare it with representatives of other races, because he had never encountered other intelligent beings in these eternally cold and gloomy places.
From early childhood, he had to learn how to survive, as befitted his kin, otherwise he would simply perish in the maw of some bloodthirsty creature inhabiting the area. But neither archery, nor mastery of melee weapons, nor even simple elemental magic spells came easily to the young Assarian. At first, he trained with all his might and spent entire days traveling, but each time own Glerond had to rescue him from another trap.
Antaer's older brother inherited all the abilities of their father, who had gone missing many years ago; he was a magnificent warrior, a swift and agile predator, a cautious and experienced hunter. In his youth, he achieved stunning mastery in perfecting combat skills and was fully capable of taking care of himself. But Glerond felt a certain responsibility for his clumsy brother and their mother, who had weakened after a severe injury, and therefore considered it his duty to look after them. He taught Antaer various melee and ranged combat techniques and trained him as best he could, and this soon began to bear fruit.
After another lunge, the young Assarian stumbled and fell onto the cold stone floor, breathing heavily. Glerond sighed sadly and shook his head, then sat down beside him.
-This is absolutely unacceptable, little brother. You aren't watching your target at all, and your strikes are simply laughable. You're holding the club wrong; look how it's done. -The Assarian deftly snatched Antaer's weapon and demonstrated several high-speed lunges in the air. -That's how you do it.
-I'm trying, Gler. -Antaer tried to justify himself. -But apparently, I'm too weak for this weapon.
-You just need more practice. -Glerond countered. -Sooner or later, you'll get the hang of it. Although... -Without finishing his sentence, the elf suddenly turned around and listened. -We have guests, let's go. -He whispered to Antaer.
In the next ten, perhaps twenty years, much changed. Their mother died, and the brothers were left alone. At first, Glerond accompanied and helped Antaer, who could now handle two light blades quite well, but the more they traveled together, the more the Assarian realized that only natural selection should decide if the young elf could adapt to an independent life in the Dungeons. One day he left his brother, hiding bitterness and regret behind a mask of calmness at the moment of parting. Antaer did not blame him; he was grateful for the help, but also well aware that he would now have to survive on his own.
At first, his brother's instructions and the experience gained over those years helped the Assarian in his endless wandering; he studied the art of death, skillfully manipulating between magical and life energies to his advantage. In a battle with a giant cave spider, he nearly lost his left hand; poison penetrated deep under the skin, and without an advanced healer, it seemed impossible to stop the infection. For several days, the exhausted, bleeding Assarian lay huddled in a narrow passage between caves, occasionally regaining consciousness from the unbearable searing pain spreading through his entire body. From that time on, the elf's wrist was hopelessly disfigured, and although the hand remained partially functional, two-handed and ranged weapons could be forgotten forever.
Over the years, Antaer developed a natural agility that helped him avoid particularly dangerous strikes in combat, but most importantly—the ability to win even the most hopeless fights using special techniques of the art of death. Now the Assarian relied only on these skills, the mastery of which helped him survive.
And one day, while once again making his way through a narrow tunnel in pitch darkness, the elf unexpectedly stumbled upon a small mountain cave, safe enough to stop and rest. Surveying the grotto, Antaer was surprised to find the body of some creature against the far wall. Carefully approaching, he noticed that the being looked very much like one of his own kind, but still had a number of differences. Its cold body was encased in iron armor; massive boots and gloves adorned its legs and hands; its head was hidden under a heavy, dented helmet, which if removed might reveal an old wrinkled face with gray hair and non-pointed ears. A small hammer, which once served as the owner's weapon, lay slightly further away. Antaer thoroughly searched the body and found several silver coins, some paper documents with seals, and a well-preserved map on which the dead man had obviously been marking a plan of the Dungeons. The Assarian smirked, noticing how insignificant a distance the humanoid had managed to cover, but was still extremely interested. By all appearances, before him lay a human who had died of hunger and frozen to death in the depths of this cave—old, wounded, lonely.
But why did he come here? This thought haunted Antaer. What did this poor soul want to find here? The elf knew very little about the outside world, only some general information told by his mother in childhood. But now, for some unknown reason, he wanted to get to the surface and know the world above ground—mysterious, perhaps dangerous, but incredibly attractive. Picking up the dead man's hammer, the map, the strange notes, and the clinking coins, the elf set out on his way.
About two years have passed since those events, and fate brought Antaer to the kingdom of Illiniar, specifically to the small town of Gaddar. During this time, he learned much new about this world. After selling the found papers in a nearby shop, he now had enough money to pay the fee for travel across the country. In the intervening time, several attempts were made on his life, and both times the enemies turned out to be humans. He still didn't fully understand why some were friendly and kind, while others at the same time sought to cause harm without any reason. These he feared more than others; they were driven not by a thirst for money, but simply by an incomprehensible animal instinct, or even worse. It was hard to get used to the fact that local enemies were far more unpredictable and dangerous than any underground creature. In this regard, Antaer liked being in Illiniar, as there existed at least the beginnings of establishing equality between all peoples of Ertenia; laws were observed here, and it was definitely safer than in many other states. Antaer decided that he would stay in this world for not long, and it is better that he perish here, attempting to learn something new and perfecting his skills, than one day, severely wounded and exhausted, freeze in endless wanderings through the boundless Dungeons of Assaria, like that adventurer.
CharacteristicsStrength: 7
Endurance: 10
Agility: 20
Perception: 12
Speed: 14
Willpower: 7
Wisdom: 20
OriginAssaria. Effects of all characteristics except strength and endurance are 50% higher.
Energy Management
Magic Barrier.Magical energy absorbs incoming damage (passive ability). x2[/COLOR]Art of Death
Death's Deception. Allows dodging a strike (or spell) that would lead to the character's death. If this ability triggers, all status effects are removed from the character. Once every three turns. Passive ability. x3Harvest. Each death in battle (regardless of who the killer was) restores 10% health and magical energy to the character, as well as 25% AP. Passive ability.Decapitation.The character's next attack will be lethal if it hits. 5 AP. x2Inventory:Light hammer
Belt of the Art of Death follower
Money
