Tabula Rasa: Adventures In A New World

956.03 Damage dealt to [Dark Blue Slime]

[Dark Blue Slime] has been slain!

+725 Experience

“Ya level up yet?”

Krvavy takes a tiny sip from her waterskin, swirling that slightly leathery liquid around her mouth in a futile attempt to wash away the cold. “Nope,” her voice is still a little hoarse, but she feels better nonetheless. The mostly filled sack that is her waterskin returns to its place, hanging on her hip. “Must be pretty close though.”

“Ah’d ‘ope so, at this point. Ya’ve killed quite a few o’ these things already.” Beryl gently kicks a chunk of the most recently frozen slime, watching it skid across the worn stone ground.

“What about you?” The Drakling asks, curiously glancing at her armoured Elf. “Have you levelled up?”

Beryl stifles a sigh. “No, and Ah don’t expect ta.”

“You’ve killed way more slimes than I have today.”

“Aye, but tha’ doesn’t matter. And not just because they were smaller.” The Wood Elf briefly looks Krvavy in the eyes... though she quickly has to avert her gaze to not be blinded by the barbarian’s crude crystal headlamp. “My dearest love, Ah don’t expect ta level up fer another few years at the very least.”

“A few...? Oh, right.” The barbarian blinks, and then furrows her brow. “I always forget that you’re a hundred-sixty-something years old...”

“Aye, Ah’m an Elf. We live long but grow slow.” A slightly somber tone underlines those softly spoken words. “And, on top o’ tha’, Ah’m already approachin’ the peak o’ my potential. Ah’m not anywhere near as remarkable as ya are, my dearest love. There is not much more Ah can do ta improve myself. At least... not as Ah am now...”

Krvavy reaches over and gently pats that beautiful brunette on the head. She wants to do so much more, but...

“Ach, Ah didn’t want ta dampen the mood.” The tomboyish Elf faintly frowns, brushing away Krvavy’s hand. “Do ya want ta try lookin’ over the edge again?” She suddenly asks, changing the subject. “We ‘aven’t done tha’ in a while.”

The Drakling stares at her sweet berry for a second longer, before glancing over towards the pit. Her eyes narrow as she takes in the sight of that very cracked and heavily worn patch of stone. She doesn’t exactly trust the area near the edge to hold her weight. But... they are five entire floors down, so maybe the bottom is finally visible...? “Kind of...” She hesitantly replies, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Worried about the ground collapsin’ beneath ya~?”

“Yes.” Krvavy dryly responds, not letting those teasing words get (much of) a rise out of her. “And that is a very real fear. This place is literally an ancient ruin.”

“Ya could try crawlin’ ta the edge~. Tha’d safely spread yer weight out~.” Beryl playfully suggests, patting her Draconic lover’s strong arm in as condescending a way as possible while still being rather reassuring. “Or, if ya really don’t want ta do tha’, ya could just go over there.” Using one of her crude arrows, she points off to the side at the very edge of their light, where the ground beside the pit looks far more stable.

“If I fall to my death, I am blaming you.” That grumpy grumbling earns a quiet giggle, which goes ignored as Krvavy walks over to that more sturdy spot, letting her axe fade back into its place within her soul.

Krvavy’s heart beats with an anxious rhythm as she approaches the edge of that deep, dark pit. Her brow knits together, emerald eyes glaring at the hopefully superficial cracks that cover the ground. Each step she takes follows after a cautious tap of her inhuman foot, testing to see if this stone will even slightly move before she even dares to trust it with her weight. One leg stretches further than the other as her thick tail lifts up and straightens out, leaving her center of balance behind her body even as she hesitantly leans forward, the light from her headlamp shining straight down into the depths.

“Wha’ do ya see?” Beryl asks after a few seconds of silence.

“Fog.” Krvavy slowly answers, still staring into the pit. “It looks like there’s fog a few floors down from here...”

“Tha’ is a good sign!” That Wood Elf audibly perks up, the wooden plates of her armour shifting slightly. The moss growing between those bits of bark do an admirable job of muffling those sounds. “After all, fog clings fairly close ta the ground.”

“Unless we are incredibly unlucky and this place goes deep enough for those to be clouds...” A heavy sigh follows those words. The Drakling lifts her gaze and stares towards the center of the pit where the tower stands, at the edge of her light. It isn’t as worn and decrepit as the rest of the ruins appear to be...

“Ach, don’t be pessimistic. Now get back from tha’ edge already. Ah’m startin’ ta worry about ya fallin’ off now...”

Krvavy very carefully steps back, breathing out a sigh of relief once she has retreated closer to the wall. Her Soulbound Weapon manifests in her hands, providing a bit of reassurance.

“Just ‘ow far down was the fog?” Beryl wonders, idly readjusting the glowing quartz dangling from her necklace.

“Uh... It looked to be about three or four floors below this one.”

“Ach.” The tomboyish Elf clicks her tongue. “Well, we ‘ave time, Ah suppose. ‘Ard ta tell wit’ no sun, but it’s probably about midday by now. Really should ‘ave some lunch soon... We’ve made good progress.”

“Only because we haven’t run into all that many slimes...”

“Ya are worryin’ far too much about tha’.”

“We’re only seeing a few on each floor.” Krvavy dryly points out. “Which is very different from the last two times we’ve been here. I am not paranoid for finding that suspicious.”

“Ya are paranoid if ya’re tryin’ ta attribute some sort o’ logic ta the lack o’ slimes.” Beryl returns in a slightly serious tone, though it is still underlined with a smile. “They are, quite literally, mindless.”

“There can still be a reas–”

“Oh! Would ya look at tha’!” The Wood Elf loudly cuts Krvavy off, pointing towards the edge of their light. “There’s another slime headin’ our way right now!” Before the barbarian can react, Beryl looses a wind-wrapped arrow towards the muddy blue blob, causing it to burst into nothingness. “And there it goes~!”

Krvavy resists the urge to bury her face in her free hand. “You are killing me.”

“No, my dearest love, Ah am killin’ slimes~!”

The Drakling simply shakes her head as she wordlessly begins to walk away, heading deeper into these ruins... with a slightly smug Elf following close behind.

A thin, musty mist lingers in the air as Drakling and Wood Elf exit yet another staircase, stepping onto the eighth floor down from where they entered this panopticon ruin. The light from the quartz crystals that they are both wearing doesn’t reach quite as far as it did before, making this wide open space feel almost cramped.

“Ach,” Beryl quietly clicks her tongue, “this is fog alright. Ah didn’t doubt wha’ ya saw, my dearest love, but Ah would ‘ave preferred ya ta be wrong... This isn’t good fer visibility, and it’ll likely just get worse as we go deeper...”

“So you’re saying that you won’t be able to pick off every single slime before they get close enough for me to fight~?” Krvavy jokingly asks, letting a playful smile fill her face. “That sounds wond–” She suddenly goes silent mid-word, holding up a hand to indicate that her Elf should be quiet as well.

A faint dripping sound echoes through the ruins, accompanied by the occasional unpleasant squelch.

“Ya wanted ta fight these pests.” Beryl’s smugly whispered words are so faint that they are almost inaudible. “No complainin’ about ‘ow annoyin’ it’ll be~.”

The Drakling does her best to ignore that teasing tomboy as she slowly turns her head side to side, trying to determine which direction the sound is coming from.

“It is loudest ta the right.” The Wood Elf helpfully comments, wiggling her long and pointed ears.

“Thank you...”

The stagnant haze of fog shifts as the two of them cautiously advance through the ruins, heading towards that uncomfortably wet noise. Rubble and rocky debris clogs up the pathway, making it slightly annoying to walk across as they need to constantly step over and around obstacles of various sizes.

“Tha’ is inconvenient...” Beryl quietly mutters, her blue-green gaze focused where their light shines onto the ground ahead. Or at least where the ground should be.

Krvavy stops a few steps away from the crumbled edge, struggling to see through the thickening fog as she stares into the darkness below. Various vaguely shaped amorphous blobs are aimlessly meandering about down there, just barely in reach of her headlamps light.

The Drakling’s gaze shifts to the right, glancing at the wall. A small sliver of the pathway remains intact, hugging close to the rusted cells. They could use that to get past this unexpected hole, but that isn’t really something that Krvavy would want to do. Especially not when they could just turn around and head in the other direction. Each floor of this place is just a giant circle, after all.

“Want ta try climbin’ down there?” Beryl quietly asks, earning herself a brief and rather incredulous look from her Draconic lover. “Wha’? It is a shortcut.”

“A better shortcut would be to simply jump down into the pit.” Krvavy sarcastically responds, keeping her eyes locked on the silhouettes of those squelching slimes, some of which have started to move in their direction.

“Ach, Ah’m bein’ serious.” The tanned tomboy clicks her tongue. “Look at the rubble.” She gestures towards the wall on the floor below. “If ya’ve noticed, it ‘as piled together in a way tha’ kind o’ makes it look like a zigzaggin’ staircase. Shouldn’t be too ‘ard ta climb down it, though it may be a bit more annoyin’ ta get back up. So...” Beryl cocks her head and stares straight at Krvavy. “Ya want ta use this shortcut, or ‘ead all the way around ta find the stairs?”

The Drakling purses her lips and considers her answer, watching the slimes below slowly climb up the rubble towards them. “Fine.” She relents after a few long seconds. “But I am going down there first...! I’m heavier, so if it doesn’t collapse beneath me then you’ll be fine.”

“Alright. Ah’ll cover yer descent.” The Wood Elf nods her head and immediately draws back an arrow, letting it loose towards the nearest slime. “Do be careful, my dearest love.”

Krvavy is a little uneasy about essentially splitting up, even if it will just be for a minute or two, but her worries are lessened a little by her trust in Beryl. Her sweet berry is vigilant and attentive, so it is unlikely that anything will be able to sneak up on the Elf...

Another arrow goes whizzing through the air, causing a second slime to explode from a burst of wind.

Krvavy half expects the ground to collapse beneath her, instinctively reaching out to brace herself against the ancient wall as she stands at the edge. But nothing happens as, despite appearances, the ground that hasn’t already collapsed seems to actually be pretty stable. Or at least this part of it is.

The Drakling’s scaled fingers tighten around the haft of her axe as she carefully lowers herself onto the piled rubble, stubbornly refusing to disarm herself. Even if that would be more convenient. A few little pebbles are dislodged by her weight, scattering out and falling deeper into the foggy mist.

Beyond those small pieces of debris, the rocky mound is remarkably solid. It doesn’t shift at all beneath the barbarian, even as she begins to move with a bit more haste and a bit less care. She doesn’t want to leave Beryl alone for too long, after all.

“Tsk,” the tomboyish Elf loudly clicks her tongue from up above. “My dearest love, tha’ slime looks too big fer my ah’rows ta easily deal wit’. But ya’re near the bottom, so...?”

“I can handle it.” Krvavy calls back, levelling her eyes towards the dark blue, almost purple, slime slowly jiggling towards her. “You should start heading down now.”

“Aye, will do.”

Krvavy’s clawed toes scratch at the surface of a relatively flat slab. Stagnant air hisses through her bared teeth as she takes a deep breath. The lingering fog clings to her skin and scales like morning dew, sending a chill through her body as that moisture slowly turns to frost.

The surprisingly huge slime suddenly surges forward, moving with far more speed than its sizable mass would suggest it capable of. An amorphous wave flows forth and looms above the Drakling, crashing against her Boreal Breath.

99.83 Damage dealt to [Purplish Slime]

187.42 Damage dealt to [Purplish Slime]

244.61 Damage dealt to [Purplish Slime]

That aggressive blob recoils as large swathes of its surface begins to solidify into ice, mostly halting its attack.

162.91 Damage dealt to [Purplish Slime]

Icy air continues to blow past the barbarian’s lips as she swings her Soulbound weapon with one hand, letting her grip slide down its haft to give her more reach. The hammerhead clumsily slams into the hardened slime with a loud cracking crash. Perfect aim and accuracy isn’t needed to just mindlessly smash something.

848.26 Damage dealt to [Frozen Chunk of Purplish Slime]

[Frozen Chunk of Purplish Slime] has been slain!

+471.25 Experience

Krvavy isn’t paying too much attention to those notifications, which are kept at the edge of her awareness at times like these as to not be a distraction. But still she can’t help but notice that the popups are bigger, that the text is longer. She doesn’t need to read what those notification say to figure out why that is the case.

The torrent of white glowing wind hissing past her frosty lips comes to an abrupt stop, leaving icy snowflakes hanging in the dank and foggy air.

That purplish slime has split apart, separating from its frozen chunks into three unequal blobby masses, each a more manageable size.

An arrow flies past the barbarian, punching into the smallest of the newly split slimes and causing it to burst like a popped balloon. Unfortunately, a fair bit of its remains splatter into the other two, which both grow ever so slightly larger as a result.

Krvavy grips her Soulbound Weapon with both hands as her eyes lock onto the closest of those slimes. It is noticeably more blue for some reason. Krvavy really has no idea how these things function. Nor does she really care.

Without another thought, the Drakling violently swings her oversized axe at the amorphous blob in front of her. The chilled fog splits around her Soulbound weapon as it slices through the air in an almost perfectly horizontal arc, hitting the slightly frosty slime a bit below the center of its mass.

76.84 Damage dealt to [Bluish Slime]

As expected, her attack doesn’t do much damage at all. But it does cleanly cut through the jiggling blue slime, completely splitting it apart. At least for a split second before gravity reasserts itself. But that brief moment is all Krvavy needs.

A burst of frozen wind blows past her pale lips, following so close behind the swing of her Soulbound weapon that frost forms on its wooden haft.

254.33 Damage dealt to [Bluish Slime, Top Half]

184.94 Damage dealt to [Bluish Slime, Bottom Half]

Ice spreads across both halves of the slime as the barbarian’s Boreal Breath billows around them, thickest in their freshly made wound. The two halves crash back together as Krvavy redirects the momentum of her axe and twists it in her hands, raising it above the two slimes with its hammer facing down.

588.12 Damage dealt to [Bluish Slime, Top Half]

[Bluish Slime, Top Half] has been slain!

+435 Experience

446.96 Damage dealt to [Bluish Slime, Bottom Half]

[Bluish Slime, Bottom Half] has been slain!

+398.75 Experience

Chunks of ice scatter from the force of that strike, exploding outwards along with a few frosty dollops of slime that didn’t have time to fully freeze.

Krvavy’s head abruptly snaps towards the other, final, slime. It recoils slightly as frozen chunks hail down into its purplish surface.

51.47 Damage dealt to [Purplish Slime]

A chill runs through the Drakling’s body as she breathes out another torrent of icy wind. Her lungs, throat, mouth, and tongue all feel rather numb. And a little stiff.

164.64 Damage dealt to [Purplish Slime]

221.15 Damage dealt to [Purplish Slime]

Glowing white wind batters against that blob, causing it to shiver and shake in increasingly futile attempts to move. Magical snowflakes linger in the air, shining faintly even as the spell ceases and Krvavy lunges forwards.

413.61 Damage dealt to [Purplish Slime]

[Purplish Slime] has been slain!

+833.75 Experience

Level Up! You have reached Level 23. As a Drakling blessed by a divine power, you have 5 attribute points to allocate and have gained +2 to Might & Toughness. If not allocated by the time you fall asleep, it will be done automatically.

+1 Divine Favour, for growing in strength.

A single pebble is dislodged from the pile behind the barbarian. An athletic tomboy, clad in wooden armour, lands on the ground before it does.

“Bravo, my dearest love~! Ya’re gettin’ good wit’ tha’ spell!” The thick fog keeps Beryl’s joyful praise from echoing off the walls, but it does nothing to keep the concern from entering her voice as her fingertips touch Krvavy’s slightly chilled arm. “But are ya sure tha’ it is safe ta use so much?”

“Yeah – ahkk...” Krvavy weakly coughs out, shivering from the cold. “I’m g-good...”

“Ya don’t look good.”

Rather than respond, Krvavy simply closes her eyes and slowly breathes in. Fire wells within her core, her frosty throat glowing a faint crimson as warmth returns to her body. “There...” She hoarsely mutters, cutting off her magic before she is forced to spew any flames. “Really, I’m fine... I don’t take any damage from that. It’s just... a bit uncomfortable. Better than Blazing Breath though...”

“If ya say so.” Beryl’s worries are hardly lessened by that, but she doesn’t press the issue any further. “Not goin’ ta test yer new Fire Magic spell?” She idly wonders while peering into the foggy darkness around them, looking for any more threats that may lurk out of sight.

“I’d like to but... it’s a bit expensive...” Krvavy quietly grumbles in response.

“So are yer breath spells.”

“That’s different.” The Drakling shakes her head and steps further from the pile of rocky rubble she climbed down. “They just have a cost for each second I cast them. Nothing up front.”

“Still, ya’ve been usin’ yer new one a lot.” The tomboyish Elf comments with a shrug. “So... ‘ow is yer mana doin’?”

“Uh... It’s a bit low.” Krvavy replies, checking her stat sheet. “That’s... not really a problem though.” The Drakling’s left hand reaches down towards her hip, grabbing onto one of the faintly glowing quartz crystals strapped to her belt. “Also, I finally levelled up.”

“Ooh~! Put the points inta Allure!”

Krvavy simply raises an eyebrow as she drains mana from the quartz battery, causing the crystal to crack and break as she pulls the power out too quickly. “Tsk...” She clicks her tongue in slight annoyance. Losing some quartz like that isn’t too much of a problem though, especially not down here where they can easily get some more.

“Come on, my dearest love, Ah just want ya ta get even sexier! Is tha’ too much ta ask~?” Beryl bats her eyelashes and playfully begs, clinging tight to the barbarian’s arm.

“Increasing my Rationality seems like the smarter choice though. I am using my magic a lot more frequently now...” Krvavy quietly states, keeping her voice low both to not strain her sore throat and to not risk luring any slimes over while they are distracted like this. With hardly a thought, she calmly extracts her arm from the clutches of that touchy tomboy. That sort of clingy begging isn’t the most convincing when it is coarse bark armour rubbing against her, rather than a naked body.

“Ach, tha’ll mainly ‘elp yer mana regeneration.” Beryl dismissively waves her hand. “Which ya don’t really need ta increase, wha’ wit’ yer Transmute Blood spell and tha’ bratty fiancée o’ yers. Allure, on the other ‘and, will increase yer ‘ealth... by a bit.”

“Fine...” Krvavy relents with a shrug, as her devious Elf does have a point. But it’ll still take two more levels until she can get the milestone trait for Allure, so there is no real benefit to raising it above fifteen... Might as well put the other two points into Rationality then...

“As much as Ah’d love ta keep playin’ around...” The tanned Wood Elf sighs, making sure her quiver is well stocked as she grows a few more arrows with her magic. “We aren’t exactly in the best place right now. So ‘ow about we continue on? We still ‘ave time fer another few floors before we’ll ‘ave ta turn back.”

“Right,” the Drakling nods and faces the darkness.

“Other way, my dearest love.” Beryl helpfully comments, a smile audible in her voice. “We just skipped a floor wit’ tha’ shortcut, so the next set o’ stairs will be over there.”

“Right,” the barbarian repeats herself, face flushing ever so slightly.