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Victor 11.29 - Vagabond's Reach
🕑 Added 2025-07-13 19:52:35 +0000 UTCHey, how about a Victor of Tucson chapter to help you enjoy this relaxing Sunday?
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-Plum
29 – Vagabond’s Reach
Victor soared in a broad, swooping glide toward the distant figures, occasionally looking down to see if his falling magma was doing any damage to the vast, golden grassland. The air was cool, though, and he was high; the bits of liquid rock quickly cooled to smoking pebbles of basalt, and there were no fires to be seen. When he was over the brick-cobbled road, he glided to a landing, some hundred yards from the two fighting figures.
Now that he was closer, he could see they were both men, and both vaguely humanoid, though one was ten feet tall and nearly as wide around the belly. The other was also tall, by Earth standards, though he was lean. He reminded Victor of a stereotypical swashbuckler, wearing a scaled, leather vest, loose flowing pants, and wielding a long, curved sword that glittered with diamond-bright flecks of metal in its otherwise dark steel.
The bigger man wore voluminous pale-gray silks and fought with an enormous staff, both ends of which were encased in silvery metal. He almost looked pleasant, with his big, round face and serene expression, but the other man’s hate-filled eyes dispelled any ideas that this was any sort of friendly duel. As Victor approached, the bigger man said, “Stay out of our quarrel, stranger.”
“Unless you want to be next!” the other man growled.
Victor folded his arms over his chest and watched. They were both clearly skilled. More than that, they had abilities that made them move unnaturally fast. He found he could keep track of them, likely thanks to his much-improved intelligence attribute, but he figured he’d need to use Velocity Mantle if he wanted to compete with them physically. The staff wielder had the advantage in reach and sheer power, but the other man was at least equally skilled with his saber and managed to shift his body at the perfect moment to make crushing blows whiff through the air.
One thing the men didn’t do was use any direct Energy attacks. Growing curious, Victor retrieved his old spy scope from his spirit space and gave the two fighters a quick appraisal. They both shone with a pale yellow aura. Victor had tried the scope quite a few times back on Ruhn, and he found its usefulness was somewhat limited when it came to people above level 100. As far as he could tell, it was simply measuring an individual’s Core strength and trying to compare it to his own—an imprecise practice.
He put the scope away and opened his inner eye, trying to get a better picture. Both men had Cores that raged with power, and the fact that he could see them was a better tell than anything else he could do; his will was stronger than theirs. That or they weren’t trying to conceal their auras from observation. The larger man’s Core swirled with air-attuned Energy, but he had a broad swath of something else. It was greenish in hue, and seemed to bubble in the river it made around his dense Core of air.
The other man had another Energy Victor was familiar with, a roiling cyclone-shaped Core of crimson blood. Both Cores felt strong, but Victor didn’t feel threatened by them. These men gave him the impression of steel seekers. Technically, they were peers, but Victor had proven several times over that all steel seekers were not created equal. So, he stood back and watched, relaxed and interested, as the two men went about their brutal contest.
After a dozen exchanges wherein neither man was seriously wounded, Victor began to see that the larger man was a better fighter, but the other one, the one with the blood affinity, was incredibly resilient. When they parted and he’d suffered a bruise or split skin, it healed rapidly. The other man bore several shallow cuts that had yet to heal, so Victor wondered if that meant he’d eventually lose. He supposed it depended on whether he could outlast the Blood Caster’s Energy supplies.
As he watched and began to grow accustomed to the two fighters’ styles, Victor found his mind wandering, and he had to ask himself why he was watching the fight at all. He supposed it was because he figured he could ask the men—or the one left standing—for information about the world. The strange insect woman had noted it as “lawless,” and Victor figured he ought to grasp every opportunity he saw if it would help him avoid trouble.
The fight dragged on, and Victor summoned a chair from his spirit space. He sat down and, feeling thirsty, summoned a container with a variety of food and drink inside. He poured himself a short glass of dark amber whiskey from Ruhn and sipped it while the fight wore on. It was good alcohol, but it hardly affected him now that he was a steel seeker and a primordial titan to boot. He chuckled softly to himself, wishing he still had some of Tes’s potent booze.
“Something amuses this man, Vishak,” the larger of the fighters said, gesturing to Victor with his staff.
The other man backed off several paces and glared at Victor. “What do you want with us, stranger? Do you mean to prey upon the victor of this duel?”
Victor set his tumbler on the arm of his chair and shook his head. “Not at all. I’m simply after some friendly conversation and maybe a little information about this world.”
The bigger man leaned on his staff and looked at his opponent. “Perhaps we could set aside our quarrel for a time? That man’s drink looks good, and it’s been a day and seven hours since I’ve eaten.”
The other man, Vishak, looked up at the pale sun in the blue sky. “Have we fought so long? That’s twice as long as last time.” The deep lines on his scowling brow began to smooth out as he sighed and twirled his saber, sliding it into a tiny, knife-sized scabbard on his belt. “Well, stranger? Have you more of that drink?”
Victor smiled, nodding. “Certainly.” He summoned two more glasses from his storage container and poured them half-full of whiskey. “Do you have chairs?”
He needn’t have asked. The larger man pulled a big, thick rug from thin air and spread it on the cobbles before Victor. It was a lovely thing, woven with threads of turquoise and mauve into an intricate pattern that made Victor think of planets and moons. He sat on the rug as his former—or maybe still current—enemy produced a simple wooden stool and sat beside him.
Victor passed them their drinks. “My name is Victor.”
The large man took his glass, smiling broadly, and announced, “I am Dro.”
“And I, Vishak,” the other man said, raising his glass. “To shared drinks on the road.”
Victor raised his glass, nodding, then, as the other two men hesitated, took a long drink. They quickly followed suit, and both men sighed in satisfaction. Dro smacked his lips, quickly taking another sip. “So, you’ve fought before?”
Vishak nodded. “A hundred times.”
“At least,” Dro added.
Victor arched his eyebrows. “So a friendlier fight than I first thought.”
“Friendly?” Vishak’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Hardly!” Dro growled. “I’ll kill him!”
“As if you haven’t tried!” Vishak leaned toward him, his hand snaking toward the hilt of his sword.
“Hey, relax, gentlemen.” Victor chuckled. “Let's sit a while before you start going at it again.”
Dro waved a hand. “He knows we can’t. A System moon must pass before we clash again; we have a compact with our master.”
“Lucky for you!” Vishak snarled, tossing back the rest of Victor’s whiskey.
Victor lifted the bottle. “More?”
“Please!” He held the glass out, and Victor filled it. “Are you new to this world, then, Victor?”
Victor nodded. “First time through. This is Vagabond’s Reach, yes?”
Dro nodded, leaning back on his rug, resting his tumbler on his prodigious belly. “That’s right.”
“I need to travel on. Is there a System Stone nearby?”
Vishak sipped his drink, his scarred nose wrinkling as he fended off a sneeze. Dro cleared his throat and said, “Not far. Seventy leagues to the south on this road will bring you to the city for which this world is named.”
“Seventy leagues?” Victor had picked up the meaning of the word somewhere in his travels and understood that he’d have to cover around 200 miles. “Why so far? I traveled here from a System Stone; usually, the System drops you near another stone.”
“Well, it's due to the nature of this world. Many enemies travel through this hub. It wouldn’t do to drop them on top of each other, would it? The founders set their stone to place people in a wide radius around the city randomly.”
“Is that why it’s considered lawless?”
“Lawless!” Dro guffawed. “The only law that matters rules this world: Live freely!”
Vishak nodded. “You’re free to do as you please, but so are others. Out here in the country? Might makes right. In the city, it’s the same, but there are none mightier in that place than the lords of this world.”
“And they will frown upon you preying on those weaker than yourself,” Dro added.
Vishak held up a finger. “Unless they agree to the fight!”
Dro nodded. “Yes, of course! Consent negates wrongdoing.”
Victor nodded, clearing his throat as he sent his empty glass back into storage. “Well, thank you for the information, gentlemen. I’ve people awaiting me, so I’ll head out.”
“So soon?” Dro groaned as he sat up straight. “I was going to put out lunch!”
Victor shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but as I said, people await me.”
“Well, here’s your glass back!” Dro tossed the last of his whiskey down, and Vishak did the same. As he collected the glasses, Vishak stood up from his stool. He was a good deal shorter than Victor, but it still felt like he was trying to seem intimidating by the way he puffed up his chest, straining the reptilian leather of his vest.
“We gave you valuable words about this world. Have you any to share with us?”
Victor sent the glasses into storage, then looked at him square in his piercing sky-blue eyes. He allowed a bit of his aura to unfold around him, just nudging up against the other men’s, as he replied, “I told you I’m new here, but I’ll tell you this: if you ever travel to a world called Ruhn, know that I’m well-loved by the empress who rules there. If you visit her and tell her you paid me a favor on the road, you’ll be treated to a meal you’ll never forget.” Victor held out his hand, and the man, having tasted a bit of his aura, was quick to shake it.
“Kindly offered, Sir Victor.”
As they clasped hands, Dro clambered to his feet and offered Victor his massive, well-calloused grip. They shook, and then Victor looked up at the noon sun. “Which way is south, then?”
Both men pointed to the road behind him. Victor smiled, nodded, and turned to walk away. He didn’t feel even a tingle of discomfort turning his back on those men; they couldn’t have harmed if they’d tried, even together. He was certain of it. He took a couple of steps, then summoned his wings. Flooding them with a torrent of Energy, he exploded into the air and streaked away to the south, trailing flames and black smoke as he tore through the sky, intent on making the trip in record time.
As he split the air, tilting his crown a bit forward to cut the wind, he watched the road below and couldn’t help noting how, even as he drew near the city, there weren’t any farms or villages or any structures to speak of. He supposed it made sense; there was always someone tougher, and in a world where powerful people traveled and were allowed to take what they wanted, he couldn’t imagine someone would want to set up a life for themselves in the wilds. His theorizing was proven true when he laid eyes on the city.
Where the wilds were pristine and unbothered by the constructions of thinking beings, the city was densely packed with buildings of all sorts. It was evident that the citizens there were building up because they couldn’t build out. The walls were a definitive barrier, unlike many cities Victor had seen, where the growth of the populace would outstrip the walls, spreading the urban setting into a vast sprawl around them. Here, it was clear that the protections provided by the masters of the city only extended to the walls.
The walls weren’t very impressive—stone blocks about fifty feet high. They were dwarfed by the colossal edifices built up inside them. Victor counted a dozen buildings that would have vied for space among the skyscrapers of a modern Earth city, though they were built with an unmistakable artistic and Energy-enhanced flair. One of them was a pitch-black, eight-sided structure with hundreds of moon-shaped windows that dazzled the eye with the way their crystalline glass reflected the sunlight.
Victor reduced his speed and elevation, noting that the skies in the city were well populated by flying machines and vehicles, mostly air-powered, like blimps and balloons. He didn’t figure he ought to fly among them, wings blazing, before he was cleared to enter the place. There appeared to be quite a queue lined up at the gate. As he descended, allowing his wings to flicker and fade, he noted several enormous clockwork metallic soldiers wielding great lightning-laced halberds, patrolling up and down the line of people awaiting entry.
When he walked up to the end of the queue, he couldn’t help thinking that this was a very different line from what you might find waiting for entry to most cities. These weren’t citizens come to trade; they were travelers who’d been dumped in the countryside like Victor. There were all manner of people, from an enormous crab-like person with a purple carapace, to a small woman who looked very much like she was a descendant or ancestor of a tabby housecat.
The woman in front of him turned to eye him up and down, then smiled brightly, exposing teeth that looked like they belonged in a cat’s mouth. “I’m Vracia.” She was, if Victor had to guess, related to the Fae, because she looked almost human, if not for her bright, angular green eyes and pointed ears. Her sharp teeth and red hair made him almost imagine her as a fox.
Victor smiled, nodding. “Victor.”
“Look at that! Vvv-racia and Vvv-ictor!” She giggled as she emphasized the “V” sound.
“Heh, yeah. Fancy that.”
She wore an outfit that made her look like a hunter to Victor—lots of leather with a silver-hilted dagger at her hip. As she looked him up and down, she reached up to grasp the lapels on her supple leather vest. “Coming from anywhere interesting?”
Victor shrugged. “Just moving through a bunch of worlds trying to get home.”
“Oh? A world walker, eh? I only have to make one jump; I’m going to Shimmervale.”
Victor nodded, unsure if he wanted to get into another long conversation by asking her about her destination. She looked expectant, though, so he tried not to sigh as he asked, “Yeah?”
“That’s right! Joining the Elidians in the war. Did you see Queen Charlaine’s entreaty? It moved me! I won’t be the first from my family to join, either, let me tell you. My cousin and her husband are already there—on the front lines!”
Victor frowned, shaking his head. He hated to do it, but he couldn’t pretend to know what she was talking about, so he said, “I’m from far away. I’m not familiar with any of that.”
“Oh? Well, you should see her message! Here—” She interrupted herself by digging through her pockets. After a few seconds, she held up a small blue stone. “If you access this, you’ll hear her words—”
“Did I hear you right, you little bitch?” Victor looked past Vracia to see a hulking, bestial man that could only be described, in Victor’s opinion, as a werewolf. He was easily eight feet tall, covered in black fur, and naked except for a thick leather strap that ran from his left shoulder to his right hip. Mounted to that baldric were two wicked-looking knives. His arms were too long, his claws were enormous, and his wolf-like muzzle was bared in a snarl that exposed considerable fangs.
Vracia whirled to face him, taking a step back at his hulking presence and slavering snarl. “W-what?”
“You’re going to join them filthy Elidians?”
“Filthy? How dare you? Queen Charlaine is the most beautiful, most graceful, most—”
“Vile, murderous bitch that’s ever lived!” the werewolf growled, taking another step toward her.
Victor scowled. He didn’t like the guy’s tone, but he also didn’t want to get caught up in a fight about politics on a world he’d never heard of. Luckily, one of the automaton soldiers stomped close to them and lowered its halberd. “The Grand Council of the Reach extends its protection to those awaiting entry to the city.”
“Bah! So, little beastkin? Will you hide behind the city’s protection, or will you duel me now? Are you ready to die for your fancy queen?”
Victor looked at Vracia, and the girl definitely didn’t seem ready to fight the hulking creature. She opened her mouth to reply a couple of times, but it was clear she was second-guessing herself. Victor couldn’t stand it, so he stepped forward slightly and looked at the big, red-eyed wolf creature. “She’s not going to fight you. Get out of here before I decide to feel offended that you were eavesdropping on my conversation.”
The werewolf bristled, his black hair standing up in a thick ridge from his scalp to his tail. His chest swelled as he inhaled and stood to his full height, and then Victor felt his aura thrashing against him—dark and cruel, filled with impressions of screams and pain. It was heavy, worse than many steel seekers' auras Victor had felt. It reminded him a little bit of Ronkerz’s Big Ones. It was raw like that, earned through hard, dangerous conflicts and a difficult life.
Even so, it didn’t faze Victor. His aura was like a granite cliff, and the wolf’s shattered against it like a wave. Victor might not have been affected by the show of the wolf’s intention, but that didn’t mean it didn’t irritate him. The titan in him took umbrage at the challenge, and he let his rage flow into his pathways, darkening his vision to crimson and twisting his face into a menacing snarl as he leaned close to the wolf’s teeth. “Well, perrito? Are you all bark, or is there some bite in there?”
Comments
Johnny
So cool
Timothy Skipper
Hell yeah
