How To Use Console Commands

Chapter 4

The defeat of Gaolsheer the Gobhood Executioner sent Avergreen into a celebratory frenzy. There was now no doubt in their minds that they were in the presence of the prophesied Dark Lord. Unlike their preconceptions, however, he was not here to rain hellfire and destruction upon the land. This was a Grigori with amazing powers who was here to save them from the cruelty of the heroes who took advantage of them, the Speakers to enabled them, the Listeners who created them and the Readers who ruled over them all.

At least that was the story they were concocting and Payton was not about to stop them. That seemed like a good goal.

In the ruins of what had once been the town hall, the citizens of Avergreen had arranged a feast. There was much dancing, music and merriment. Gaolsheer was separated from his guards and imprisoned in the very same jail that Tartarius had been incarcerated. The other Gobhood guards were put in shackles and kept in cages close by to the celebration so that they could be constantly watched. A giant bonfire had been lit at the town center while the smell of cooked food wafted through the air. Suckling pig, roasted chicken, fresh vegetable soup and steaks to make the mouth water were aplenty. Payton couldn't believe how much he ate and had to admit that maybe a bit of his wolfish instincts were kicking in as he gorged himself on the delicious meals.

To his right, Durandal was given a place of honor as the brilliant strategist who had concocted the plans that led to their victory. Tartarius was to his left partially as an apology from the townspeople for how he was treated and partially because it had been his ingenuity that had created the traps and palisades. Ravenus was out on the floor, socializing, dancing and getting a little tipsy with the free-flowing beer. Axter, on the other hand, was all-business and was the one who personally brought Payton his meals.

Speaking of Axter, the blue-furred lion came to him and set down what looked like a beautiful bundt cake covered in sweet, white icing in front of him.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Avergreen's specialty," answered the lion with a smile. "It is a sweet roll. Given the short notice, only one could be made and the townspeople thought it best to give it to you as their new Dark Lord."

The eyes of the citizens who weren't too drunk to stand were gazing at him in anticipation.

"You really shouldn't have." He got up from his seat, picking up the plate with the cake. "You're thanking me for what I did but I need to thank you all for giving me a chance. So this cake should go to all of you!"

He copied the reference of the cake and immediately replicated it, another cake appearing in his other paw. He handed both plates to the two men by his side and then created another two in his paws. Those were passed off to Axter before he motioned the closest townsperson to approach. It brought a smile to his face when a woman brought her daughter over and he handed them both their servings. The little girl squealed and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly before hurrying to show it to her friends.

"Look! I got a cake from the Dark Lord!"

"You sure you should be so generous?" rumbled Tartarius, though he still kept a smile. "You made a pretty speech about making sure people are no longer dependent on the Readers for everything but at the rate you're going, they might just become dependent on you."

Payton waited until there was a large pile of sweet rolls in front of him for Axter and some other citizens to distribute before sitting down and replying. "Let them have this. Tomorrow, the real work begins. We basically need to teach everyone how to take care of themselves."

He inclined his head to the side, bending one ear back. "Speaking of which. How do these people take care of themselves? Who does all the cleaning and serving and what not?"

"The goblins," came the short answer.

Payton glanced around the celebration but couldn't find any such creatures. "Where are they?"

"Killed," responded Durandal grimly, a large turkey leg in one of his four hand. "If I were Gaolsheer, the first thing I would have done is killed every goblin in sight then hunted the others down one by one. Goblins do everything in this province. The people here probably only managed to cook all this either from watching goblins or learning from them while they were bored. They're no experts. Kill enough goblins and either there will be too much work for the rest to keep up and they'll die of exhaustion or the people will be unable to take care of themselves and they will die of exhaustion or starvation. In fact, we're fortunate we came here of all places."

"Why is that?"

The tattooed boar with the bright, yellow eyes gave him a wry smile. "Because this is a rural town. Here, people aren't so fortunate to have many goblins at their beck and call. They're forced to fend for themselves a little more than those at the capital. At most, maybe two or three families would own one goblin amongst them that'll help them around. But at the capital, one person might have two or three to themselves."

"Is it really that bad?" he asked worriedly. "Are these people so incapable of taking care of themselves that they don't even know the basics?"

Durandal nodded in the direction of the celebrating citizens. "Look at them. Look at what they're wearing."

Each of the villagers had some rather fine clothing on. Nothing as designer as say something from Ralph Lauren or right off the runway but they had gold trimmings, good materials and bright colors. Even if they were scuffed and some were torn from the recent hardships, they were still exceptionally fine. If he was to draw a comparison, these looked more like nobility than commoners.

"The only reason they have any semblance of survival instincts is due fear and maybe a bit of idle curiosity or boredom," the boar snorted. "The hunters we faced barely knew how to fight let alone hunt. If I were even one level higher, I would have taken care of them by myself. It'll be like teaching a new recruit or a child."

I bet I can expect some resistance as well. No one wants to do any work if they can avoid it.

"You sound like you know what you're talking about," Tartarius said to Durandal. "But I guess as a fellow Grigori, we're both used to being pushed around and being used for manual labor, huh?" The rhino with the burning runes on his skin sighed heavily and ruffled his dark hair. "Being on the outside really does give you a different perspective. I mean, I was never rich or anything back home but, all things considered, I had it better than most."

I'm starting to realise that too. Compared to the average Grigori, I'm pretty fortunate with all these powers. Really lucky too that I happen to find Durandal and Ravenus early on.

Not to mention back home, I was pretty well-off.

"It's because of people like us and the goblins that serve as these people's slaves that they're able to live so comfortably," said Durandal grimly. "Often times, people turn their gaze upwards to what they can achieve and not downward onto the people that they step on to get where they are."

Surprised by the boar's sensitivity and insight, Payton said, "That's really... poignant."

"Just something I've learned in my years," grunted the boar. "Honestly, I say we abandon these pig-fuckers and move on. Gaolsheer's disappearance won't go unnoticed and a small army of men from Gobhood not reporting in will be just as suspicious. Because people have so much time for luxury and compassion, a single life lost is treated like a national disaster."

"As it should," Tartarius said firmly. "I bet you'd go fucking bananas if someone close to _you_died! You'd want justice!"

"Pity that doesn't extend to all life." Durandal sighed heavily and absently scratched the tattoo on his cheek. "Gobhood will send search parties for Gaolsheer and his men sooner rather than later. It's about five days trek from here to Gobhood assuming you're taking the road. Longer if you're going by the woods and you're not waylaid by any perils. At most, Gobhood might wait two or three days before sending someone. After that, Avergreen's fate is their own."

And you can bet if we stay and we defend the town, Gobhood will just send more and more people at Avergreen. I don't think this small town could defend itself from the Speakers and their lackeys...

But, we might be able to use this to our advantage...

"Maybe that's what we want."

He got a curious look from Durandal whose lips were slowly starting to curl upwards in a smirk. "Really, Your Darkness? Did you want to give this town a moment of hope and joy before you left them to be crushed as traitors by Gobhood."

"Of course not." That smile on Durandal's lips didn't fade. His words were just a joke and likely hyperbole. "But what if we fortified Avergreen to the point where it becomes such a formidable force that Gobhood would have to split its efforts between attacking an impregnable fortress and say, I don't know, a Dark Lord crawling in its midst?"

Durandal grinned broadly. Tartarius let out a loud 'Ha' before slamming his palm onto the table.

"Holy fuck dude! Were you like, a military general back on Earth!?" exclaimed the rhino. "That's fucking brilliant!"

"Divide Gobhood's defenses," agreed Durandal. "That's ambitious. But how will we turn this town of people into formidable warriors in just a week?"

Payton leaned back in his seat, grinning broadly. "By giving everyone names."

He got some dumbfounded looks from both his companions.

Then Tartarius spoke. "That is a really fucking dumb idea."

The bluntness of the statement was almost like a physical blow and he stared incredulously at his Archer. "What? Why?"

"Because you're basically giving a fucking nuke to a child!" He gestured with his big hands at the celebrating citizens. "Look at them. They're high on their victory right now. What do you think will happen when you give kids giddy over defeating a hero - where they barely did anything, mind you - a fucking name and all the powers that comes with it? You'll have everyone and their fucking grandmother throwing fireballs at one another!"

"There are no training facilities around here either," Durandal added. "Or if there were, they've been burned down. These people are more likely to turn on one another in an attempt to harvest experience points in a mad dash to become the strongest."

Oh... So I'd basically turn Avergreen into Lexcia's first ever PVP zone.

Yikes...

"Then what do you suggest?" he asked. "We can't just leave them here and I still like the idea of making Gobhood split its attention between us and Avergreen."

Durandal sighed and leaned back in his chair, setting down the turkey leg that he had been munching on. "I've learned that you can't expect to dismantle a pillar without finding something to replace it especially if it's holding up the roof. We've removed Avergreen from the status quo. We need to find it a place in this world. I don't know what that is, however."

Tartarius waved a hand. "It's also lacking leadership. Gaolsheer killed the mayor. I mean, if the guy was still alive, we could give him a name and then leave the town to him but as it stands, maybe you can promote the guy that risked his neck to be killed by Gaolsheer so we can have those few seconds to attack but that's still a bit of a stretch."

He's right. Avergreen is looking to us for leadership. We need to install a governor or something...

Payton rose from his seat, with a calculating look on his features. "I need to give it some thought. I'll get back to you. If you can come up with some alternatives, that'd help too."

As he left, he saw Tartarius grin brightly and wave his hands through the air. "Here's a thought. Deathmatch! We chuck anyone who wants to be leader in a ring, let them fight to the death and winner gets the title!"

Durandal gave him a deadpan stare. "No."

"Fine. Not to the death. Just until a limb is cut off."

"Fuck no."

Payton left them to ponder and walked away from the table of honor, pretending that he needed to relieve himself. He was glad that the plumbing still worked in this place and this world was advanced enough to have such necessities. Not really needing to go, he made a wide arc around the extremities of the celebrations, watching from a far while hoping for inspiration to strike him on how he could possibly defend Avergreen from the assault that he knew was coming.

They were outnumbered and outgunned. Yes, he could probably overwhelm all foes in the end with God Mode but that would all be pointless if all his friends and all these people died. It was like activating God Mode during an escort mission. Sure you would be invincible and could tear through every enemy that came at you but the moment that stray bullet killed your escort, it was still game over. Making Avergreen his base of operations was a viable option, certainly, but eventually word would spread about his abilities and his rebel nation. Readers, Listeners, Speakers and their armies would eventually come bearing down upon his door and if he was going to go up against the likes of Orphan or even Inferiorix, he would need more than just a single city.

"Maybe I should lift the whole place off the ground and make a town in the sky," he laughed to himself softly.

"Can you really do that?"

The voice startled him. In his wandering, he had inadvertently made his way to where the Gobhood soldiers were chained down. They were stripped of all their armor and weapons, leaving only their loincloths. All looked fairly generic almost like they could be brothers. Well-built, muscled and though they had different shades to their skin, they all had the hardened look of men who fought for their country. Could he really fault them for following orders when they were raised to be ignorant and never question the will of their leaders from birth?

"Probably," Payton answered, adopting his Dark Lord persona again. "But most people can't survive living in high altitudes. There's very little breathable air up there. Plus as entertaining as it'd be to have corpses raining down from the sky onto my enemies, that'd just be a waste of resources."

"That's one way of putting it, I suppose," mumbled the soldier. "You know that Lord Goblincaller will send someone for us. If not Faoster, then at least the Goblin Knight."

The Goblin Knight. That isn't the first time I've heard that name.

Ravenus had mentioned him when they were interrogating the hunters.

"Tell me, who is this Goblin Knight?" he asked.

The soldier stared at him defiantly. "What will I get in return?"

Tempting as it was to threaten him with death, Payton knew that positive reinforcement gave much greater results than animosity. He squatted down in front of the kneeling man and produced a plate with a sweet roll on it.

"I'm sure you must be hungry. I'll give you this if you tell me about the Goblin Knight."

The man's mouth watered. "I... I honestly haven't had anything but Gobhood Stew in so long..." He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "Alright... The Green Knight is the leader of the Gobhood military. He is a Speaker of Gobhood. He is our Master-Of-Arms. He recruits us, trains us and is the one that deploys us along with training the goblins to do the work around the city. Now could I...?"

Payton handed the man the sweet roll, keeping the plate for himself. Seeing the hateful stares of the other soldiers, he got to his feet, summoned more sweet rolls and handed one to each of them. The third one stared at it with disdain.

"It's not poisoned."

The soldier took it without another word, allowing him to move on to the rest of the captives, feeding each of them in turn.

"I've heard a lot about the Readers and Listeners," he said. "But not so much about Speakers. What are they?"

The air suddenly gained a slight cold quality and Axter approached, carrying a tray filled with some roast duck. "The Speakers are the direct lieutenants of the Listeners," said the blue-furred lion, setting the tray down in front of the men. Before the soldiers could dig in, Payton quickly grabbed the reference id of the platter and cloned it a couple of times to make sure everyone had some of the succulent meat. "If the Readers could be considered Kings, the Listeners their Generals then the Speakers are their Lieutenants. These days, Listeners are rarely seen in public even if the Readers make more appearances. Speakers are the eyes, ears and hands of the Listeners and enact their will directly with the people."

Axter tilted his head slightly, his serpentine tail tasting the air lightly beside him. "As I recall, Gobhood has four Speakers. The Goblin Knight, Emerald Mage, the Head Chef of the Greenworks and the Greensmith."

"What purposes do they serve?"

Axter gave him a helpless shrug. "I'm sorry, Master. Given that my circus troupe had a Grigori among them, we never got too close to Gobhood in case the whole circus be condemned."

The first soldier spoke up. "The Goblin Knight is the military and security force. The Emerald Mage is the magical authority. The Head Chef provides the food and the Greensmith makes all the equipment and designs for the city." He looked up pleadingly at Payton. "Sir, if it wouldn't trouble you... could I have some water?"

Payton blinked a few times and then smiled back down at the man kindly. "Those sweet rolls would dry up your throat, huh?" He glanced over at his leonine friend. "Axter...?"

The chimera bowed at him in that butler-like way he does. "Of course, Master."

"And stop calling me that."

Axter left, allowing Payton to turn back to the soldiers before him.

What if...?

"Why did you follow the likes of Gaolsheer?" he asked out of genuine curiosity. "You all seem like decent people but Gaolsheer..."

The soldiers exchanged glances, unable to put their thoughts into words. It was someone to the far end of the line of prisoners spoke up. "Because he's named. We have to obey him. He overpowers us easily."

"Overpowers...?" He glanced at each of them before him. They were all Level 16 on average. Enough to use their weapons.

Huh... That's something I still don't get. How do NPCs get assigned their levels?

"There's... what? Twenty, thirty of you?" Payton asked. "You're all about Level 15 or 16. You outnumber him and since he's capped at Level 20, statistically speaking, you outnumber and outgun him."

The soldier he was originally speaking to let out a soft laugh. "You really haven't been here long, have you?" He leaned back, pressing the back of his head against the stone wall behind him. "We are unnamed. Names hold so much power here in Lexcia. Even if we were all the same level as Sir Gaolsheer, he could still cleave us in two with ease. If it's not his strength and prowess in combat, it's his equipment and skills. We unnamed don't benefit from the bonuses classes grant named either."

It's that much of a power gap, huh? Levelling up has an exponential rate of growth.

"Seems I still have a lot to learn. But tell me, how did you get to Level 16? Did someone just decide one day you make you one?"

The soldier shrugged at him. "It's honestly decided by where and how we live. If you look at the villagers around here, they're probably around Level 2-3. Because we live in Gobhood's lower wards, we're mostly Level 15 to 17. The closer you get to Faoster's throne, you'll see higher level people."

I get it. So different 'zones' have its NPCs at different levels. Makes sense.

"So wait," he began, "does that mean you're stuck with your level for the rest of your life?"

He got another dismissive shrug in response. "Sort of, I guess? I mean you could always marry or move to different locations and you'd get different levels. But why would you want to? You've pretty much got everything you'd ever want where you are and most people wouldn't want to marry someone below their station."

There's that sickening sense of complacency again.

Axter returned with a jug of water which Payton immediately copied and replicated so that each of the soldiers had a mug each. As he passed around the jugs, he was left wondering how this world could be so fantastical and advanced but at the same time also so stagnant. Perhaps the idea of a 'Dark Lord' wasn't so much an omen of the fall of civilization and mankind but the dawn of a new age where the current system was replaced by a new one.

And there's the problem again. I can't just go around destroying everything without finding something to replace it with.

His eyes followed the men as they begrudgingly ate the food they were given, seemingly dejected and resigned to their fates. They likely didn't expect to live for much longer.

"Hey Axter," he began, speaking to the lion softly. "Under normal circumstances, what would happen to these guys?"

"Nothing about this is normal, Master," chuckled the chimera. It seemed his snake-tail added its own chortle with a hiss. "But there are many dangerous beasts and monsters out in the wilds, far from civilization. Even bandits could become problematic. If a soldier from Gobhood were captured by any of them, they wouldn't live past morning. There's no reason to hold anyone for ransom when everyone basically has the same amount of wealth and the full might of a Speaker or Listener might come bearing down on you for the audacity of kidnapping any of their people. Besides that, it's another mouth to feed. If everyone only ever gets the same amount of resources to fit their current scenario, you won't ever have enough for extra."

Just like Tartarius said... just a little bit of communism in there.

"So you're telling me that the merciful thing to do would be to kill these guys?"

"The villagers will likely want revenge for those that were killed. After the euphoria of the victory wears off, they'll realize they won't have enough food to feed thirty big, hungry soldiers as well as themselves. And their goblins were killed too. So that means that they have to do things for themselves for the first time. Why would they waste time and effort when they can barely take care of themselves?"

Payton sighed heavily and ruffled the hair between his ears. "It really is like suddenly having to take care of a whole village full of children that only really know how to do one thing or will only do something if they're really motivated."

"Nothing like a true need for survival to motivate someone to improve themselves."

That was what separated the Grigori from the normal citizenry. The Grigori were constantly fighting for their lives. Persecuted and hunted even during times between Black Halos, they were treated like second class citizens. That constant drive to prove themselves, the looming threat of death, drove the Grigori to become better than they were and use what gifts they had been given to their advantage.

Part of him was tempted to just abandon Avergreen. Let the cruel citizens who had been so willing to give up Tartarius and Axter just to save their own hides to the whims of Faoster Goblincaller so that they could see what it was like to be hunted.

But an eye for an eye only makes the world blind.

_I need to be better. _

"What defines the general level of the people living in a zone?" he asked.

Axter inclined his head to the side and his serpent tale, hovering over his shoulder, tilted its head in the other direction. "I've honestly never given it much thought. I suppose it's got to do with the general prosperity of the region."

He jerked his chin at the soldiers. "What about you? What do you think influences the level of a region?"

He got multiple responses. Some responded similarly to Axter but others argued that the more primal subraces and feral monsters wouldn't be 'prosperous' and yet there were wild regions that could reach up to dangerous levels. Another suggestion was the general preparedness of its militia and their equipment but that again did not make sense especially for wild regions.

Then Ravenus came bouncing in, swinging his arms wildly and his cheeks flush with inebriation. "It's got to do with the dominion!"

"Pardon?" Axter asked, catching him before he could collapse onto Payton.

"You've never heard of dominions and their owners?" The bat grinned brightly, squeezing his eyes shut in a typical Anime-like full-on, cheerful smile. "A region has got to have a boss! Someone who claims the territory and then they get to define the general level of the people in it! They have to have a high Governing Skill though! I think your Governing Skill Level is what defines everyone else's level."

With that new insight, Payton quickly opened Ravenus' character sheet and saw, indeed, that there was a skill for Governing. To his benefit, there was a little tool tip on the Governing skill indicating that it defined how well a person could govern a region and make executive decisions. It was leveled up each day the person ruled a region naturally with diminishing returns if said region was the same size or had the same population. Events could influence the skill depending on the performance of the governor. He guessed that if a plague struck the region and everyone died, the governor might just lose skill points.

One caveat, however, was that the Governing Skill was capped by the Leadership Skill.

Makes sense. You have to be a good leader to be a good governor.

That left him with a very big problem, however.

A governor would naturally need to be close to or inside the region they were ruling in order to properly govern. He couldn't leave any of his party members here. If he was going around to invade Gobhood, there was no way to rule from a distance. He couldn't bear to part with them. No matter the circumstance. He cherished Durandal's strength, Ravenus' joviality, Axter's loyalty and Tartarius' practicality.

He couldn't be the governor either. He couldn't gain levels. At least as far as he knew. Equipment he had could become stronger but he didn't have a class and therefore could not access any General Skills.

"I'm assuming Avergreen had a governor," he said.

"It did," Ravenus said with a grimace. "But Gaolsheer killed him."

Gaolsheer... I wonder.

"Wait here," he commanded and turned, hurrying to the other side of town. It was a short trip and he easily avoided the other celebrants on his way to the single jail. Part of him expected to see the cell empty but there was the bloody Executioner, crouched in the corner, defeated and staring pensively at the floor.

The Executioner of Gobhood didn't seem to register his presence until he strode right up to the bars.

"Come to gloat?" growled the man.

"Come with a proposition," he responded. "But I wanted to learn a few things about you first before I make my offer."

"As if I could resist," grunted Gaolsheer. "If you are the Dark Lord, it would be an utter waste of time to do anything else. I don't see why you don't reach into my mind and read it or whatever else it is you can do."

I probably could if I wanted...

"There's a difference between me forcing the information out of you and you telling me willingly," he answered. With a quick SpawnItem command, he summoned a chair behind him and sat down in front of the bars comfortably. "So here's my question... Why were you capped off at Level 20?"

The aura of malice and hatred radiating from the man seethed out of him like a foul miasma. Payton met the fiery gaze with a stoic coolness even though his heart was pounding hard in his chest like it was trying to explode, sprout legs and run as far away from the red-eyed stare as possible.

"Because the Speakers feared me," came the low growl of an answer. "The way I do things didn't sit well with them so they went out of their way to make sure that I never took a step beyond Level 20."

"Did they ever give you a reason why?"

Gaolsheer's massive hands tightened into fists. "Because I liked my job? I liked ending the lives of those who stood against Gobhood? Because feeling blood splattered against my flesh makes me feel more alive than ever? Take your pick, dog. They would have found any reason to keep me from getting more powerful."

I've got to play this right.

Gaolsheer had ambition, that much was clear. Cunning, powerful and ruthless. In some ways, he would make for a much better Dark Lord. Payton opened the Executioner's character sheet once more and this time paid more attention to his General Skills. There was a miserable number of points distributed amongst the Skills listed and there was a much shorter list as well. He guessed that a Skill would only be granted once the person actually started training in said skill. However, Gaolsheer surprisingly had some points in Leadership and one point in Governing.

It's a start.

"You clearly weren't satisfied with how things were under Faoster. Why didn't you do anything about it?"

"Like what?" snapped the Executioner. "Rise up against him or were you thinking I should march right up to Gobhood's gates and smash it down? You know the Speakers are at least level 90, right? The Listener could be-"

"Equivalent to a Level 500 and the Readers Level 1000, I've heard the comparison," he interrupted. "But why not simply leave? Why not drop everything you have and start afresh? Go to another province. Get promoted there. Why stick to Gobhood?"

The towering man leaned back against the wall and grunted softly. "There's no point. The Speakers have made their judgment and nothing will change that. It was either I bend a knee and become someone they see as worthy of rising into the Advance Classes or I die forever as a Brawler." That unsettling grin returned to his lips but now there was a hint of sadness in it. "Better to die as I am than to live another man's shadow."

If only everyone felt that way.

"I don't know about that," Payton responded coolly, shifting his weight on the chair. "What if I told you that I could promote you?"

Gaolsheer didn't flinch and just turned that bitter grin towards him. "And what would I have to do in exchange?"

Straight to the point...

"I need you to be the governor of Avergreen."

The Executioner's eyebrows rose in surprise. It took him a whole minute to process Payton's words. The moment a minute passed, he threw his head back and laughed. He bumped the top of his skull against the stone wall, stopping his laughter for a moment. Then he continued laughing before slamming his head on the stone over and over again.

Payton watched the insane display with an unreadable mask on his lupine features.

"I apologize," giggled Gaolsheer. "I had to come to terms with what I had just heard." His mad, red eyes met Payton's gaze. Blood streamed down from his frazzled hair down his face. "Did you just honestly offer the position of governor of the very town that I burned down less than a day ago? Me? The man that would gladly see your head cleaved clean off your shoulders? More than that, you're offering to promote me to Advanced Class?"

"I am."

Now if only I knew how the actual promotion thing works...

"But there's a catch," Payton said, lifting a finger. "You know Gobhood is going to be sending troops down against us sooner or later. A week at most. My plan is to leave Avergreen in the care of a governor who can hold out for as long as it takes for me to infiltrate Gobhood with my party and deal with the Speakers and Listener. If you manage to do that, you have my word that upon my return, if Avergreen still stands and you managed to keep the majority of the population safe, I will promote you to the Advanced Classes."

Gaolsheer's grin grew broader but there was a spark of ambition in his eyes. "That's a tall ask, Your Dark Majesty. Even were I up to the job, I'm one man to defend the entire town, a town that hates him."

"You will have the support of the town and the men who followed you, I can assure you. Mostly because they won't know it's you."

The Executioner's eyebrows fell back down as he narrowed his gaze. "What are you talking about...?"

"I'm going to turn you into a Grigori."

It was something he noticed while examining Gaolsheer's sheet. For some reason, he was free to completely edit his race. Whereas for the likes of Axter, Ravenus, Durandal or Tartarius the option was greyed out, he could select the dropdown and see all the options before him. If he wanted, he could turn Gaolsheer into a goblin in a delicious piece of irony.

But he held of... for now.

"What?" sneered the man. "You'd turn me into one of you?"

"Yes. You'll maintain your level and even gain an extra ability that all Grigori have. Your appearance will naturally change ensuring that the rest of the town need not know who you are."

Gaolsheer leaned back, his eyes still narrowed at Payton. The deal was a very tempting one. In many ways, this was the test that he needed to achieve his greatest desire of being promoted to the Advanced Classes. There was just one, seemingly impossible task sitting in front of him. It was a solid, highly defined criteria instead of the vague excuses that the Speakers gave.

"And if I refuse?" grunted the Executioner.

Payton rose from his feet and with a dismissive paw, disintegrated the chair he had been sitting on. "Then you can sit here and rot. I might fight someone more fitting to become the governor amongst the soldiers that had come with you or perhaps even the villagers. If not, it means nothing to me. Avergreen will serve its purpose of confounding Gobhood's troops and maybe scouring the area for survivors. The delay will be enough for me to get into Gobhood and formulate another plan to weaken Faoster."

A dark chuckle rose from the man's cracked, blooded lips. "Ruthless. Do these villagers mean nothing to you?"

"On the contrary. I see their potential. But if that potential is wasted by something as stupid as pride or blind loyalty, then they have made their choice and I won't waste any effort trying to convince them otherwise if my time and energy is better spent elsewhere." Payton stretched out a hand towards Gaolsheer. "So what will it be, Gaolsheer the Executioner of Gobhood? Will you join my cause?"

The man rose from his crouching position, taking two heavy steps forward to stand a few good feet away from Payton with the bars between them.

"You realize that if I get strong enough, I could very well come to kill you," growled the Executioner.

Oh sweet Jesus! He looks like he could bend the bars and snap my neck before I can activate God Mode!

"You can very well try," replied the wolf with a cocky smirk. "You will not succeed."

Gaolsheer's grin lost the sad edges to it and the fire of ambition pulled at the corners, giving him that manic look again. "Then do it, Dark Lord!" he bellowed, spreading his arms wide. "Reforge me into your instrument! I shall be reborn as the new governor of Avergreen and I shall defend it with all my life to finally gain the title befitting my station!"

Payton narrowed his gaze and immediately began hovering over the many races he could turn Gaolsheer into. He found the Grigori subtype that seemed most appealing and immediately selected it. A shining circle of light formed beneath Gaolsheer. Arcane runes ran all around the edges of the circle. The circle itself was rotating, allowing Payton to make out the words of the runes; it was the prophecy of the Black Halo. To further emphasize the link between the rune and the Dark Lord, a stylized sun was drawn in light at the center of the circle, rotating in the opposite direction of the runes.

"But mark my words!" bellowed Gaolsheer, pointing threateningly at Payton. "Go back on your word and I will do everything in my power to hunt you down and take your head!"

Payton smirked as the light of the rune bathed the jail cell. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

As he clicked away from the race drop down, a popup appeared in front of Gaolsheer's sheet.

'You are about to make drastic changes to this character. Would you like to use the Character Creator?'

That was a new option. Promoting NPCs to important characters likely didn't constitute as a 'drastic' change even if their bodies did undergo some degree of development. Changing a human into a Grigori fundamentally changed the way their character worked, after all. It was just part of this world to promote an NPC to a named. But changing someone's race...?

Oh well... here we go.

By clicking the 'confirm' button, he was taken what he could only assume was like an instillation wizard. First, he was asked to confirm the race and then he hit the 'Next' button. Next, he was asked to input the Class and allocate levels. He kept it as is with all twenty in Brawler. Following that, he moved on to the distribution of attribute points which, again, he didn't touch. There were a few points added and deducted from certain attributes due to the change in race but nothing too drastic.

Then he came to the unique menu for a Grigori.

He had to choose Gaolsheer's ability.

Given that he didn't trust Gaolsheer with a mighty weapon like Goblinshredder, he decided to copy one of the skills already embedded in there. Whenever the Executioner found himself in the presence of blood, that was not his own, that very blood would be expended to heal himself.

After hitting the confirm button, he came to a screen he wasn't expecting.

The biography screen only now he could completely edit it.

I could completely rewrite Gaolsheer's personality, his history and even what he believes in.

Payton pursed his lips. Would changing the Executioner's biography have wide-reaching effects across the rest of the world? Was there some sort of causality clause where if he messed with Gaolsheer's past, events would be warped and twisted to fit said past causing irreparable damage to the timeline? If he got rid of the Executioner of Gobhood, would someone else take his place?

"You look hesitant, Dark Lord," challenged Gaolsheer. "Having second thoughts?"

Hell yeah! I don't know what half of this shit does!

"Merely considering my options on what ability to give you as a Grigori," he responded coolly.

"Give me something that's nice and bloody."

"You're in no position to make demands but given how I'm not going to be giving you Goblinshredder back, that stands to reason."

I better not mess with his biography. I won't change anyone like that. Not unless it's absolutely necessary.

Except maybe...

He added one extra paragraph at the end of Gaolsheer's biography.

'When he transformed due to the benevolence of the Dark Lord Payton Rendshaw, Gaolsheer adopted the name 'Ghorrend' as a sign of shredding his previous identity and entering the world as a Grigori.'

The moment he hit commit, the name at the top of Gaolsheer's character sheet immediately changed to 'Ghorrend'.

One last popup appeared.

'Are you sure you wish to commit these changes? Once transformed into a Grigori, the character may not transform into anything else.'

So that's what that is... Good to know.

He hit commit.

The magical circle around Gaolsheer sprang to life. Smaller circles sprang up from its expanse, wrapping around his ankles, wrists, waist, torso and encircling his temples. The Executioner lost his grin for a moment and his mouth fell open slightly. His red eyes rolled into the back of his head. A great wind erupted from the runes, streaking upwards and blowing upwards, seemingly lifting the titanic man off the ground. A deep thrumming noise emerged from the rings, a sound akin to an enormous fan spinning away inside a big, empty tunnel.

Payton had to lift his arms to keep himself from being blinded by both the light and the howling winds. The force of the gale knocked over the few chairs and the sole table in the jail, even pushing him back a few feet away from the cell gates.

Somehow, he managed to peer through the blistering light and roaring winds to spy Gaolsheer's fingertips starting to transform. At first, they were coiled tightly into fists but the force of the energies coursing through the Executioner's veins forced his fingers apart. The moment every digit was stretched, the flesh began peeling away like they were merely wrapping paper being shred to bits on Christmas morning. Even traditionally hard parts of his body like his nails were torn from his body, carried by the winds and disappearing into their gale.

Beneath the tearing flesh was dark green, taut skin. Thick fingers surged outward, pushing out and past the human frame, causing greater tears across his hands to make it easier for the underlying creature to emerge. His hands exploded, literally shedding his human palms. Thick veins coursed behind emerald-green flesh and big, white nails capped meaty fingers. These hands, twice the size of his already mammoth palms, closed into fists, pumping the change further up his forearms. The magical rings around his wrists shattered like glass, the barrier that was keeping the transformation from the rest of his body broken.

His forearms exploded in much the same way as his hands. Pink flesh of a human peeled away in strips, giving way to the thick, corded, green muscles beneath. When the first few had peeled away, the thick muscle beneath quickly inflated and shucked off the human guise. His upper arms quickly followed, the peak of his biceps tearing through his skin first and making that first break that allowed the rest of the man that had been Gaolsheer to disappear into the winds. Blood-stained sleeves quickly rode up from his biceps before getting stuck around his ballooning shoulders. The fabric tore right down the middle with an audible rip.

The emerging beast lifted his arms into the air in an impressive double bicep pose. A primal roar erupted from his throat. Gaolsheer thrashed his head from side to side, gnashing his teeth together. The flesh around his neck peeled away just as the collar of his tunic was forcibly widened by his expanding chest and neck. Like watching a mask being peeled off, Gaolsheer's crude, craggy features were stripped away from the neck up inch by inch. Emerald green skin was revealed beneath tightly wound to a powerful corded neck and a pronounced Adam's Apple.

Two of his lower teeth fell away, disappearing into the flurry of light and wind. Two, thick tusks took its place, forcing his jaw to widen and jut out a little more as his features adjusted to the tougher features. Though the wrinkles remained, the thicker brow, big underbite and powerful tusks seemed to fit his features more, giving him a tough, handsome appearance. His blood-stained hair was stripped away, replaced by stark, blood-red hair that ran down the back of his head like a bloody mane. The tips of his ears was pierced by the more pointed flesh beneath, quickly peeling away as the pointed organs jutted past his mane.

Gaolsheer threw his head back, letting out a blood-curdling roar and in doing so, the straps of his blood-stained apron snapped. It was quickly left flapping in the wind, barely holding on by the leather belt wrapped around his waist. The white fabric of his tunic strained against his swelling pectorals. A tear appeared right down the middle before falling away into a vest-like garment to reveal his powerful, green torso with a light dusting of darker, blood-red hairs.

That belt audibly strained as his waist broadened to accommodate the broad, sloping lats that formed a very definite V-shape. The buckle came flying off, striking one of the cell bars before being lost into the gusting winds. His apron came flying away, curling around one of the bars. The legs of his trousers quickly strained against the growing mass beneath. Tears appeared across the seams and green flesh decorated by pulsing veins with the faintest dusting of red hair were revealed beneath. The man's bare feet exploded to match his new, enormous mass.

Rrrrrrip!

The last pieces of clothing on the transforming Grigori fell away revealing strong, powerful calves, meaty thighs and...

Oh shit!

A manhood that would put any pornstar to shame.

The thick, erect, green meat had to be as thick as a baseball bat and about half as long! The two orbs jostling beneath it shrouded by dark, red hairs were about as big as oranges. Payton found himself unable to keep his gaze away from the incredible sight of masculinity and was half-tempted to reach out and squeeze it just to make sure it was real.

He was knocked away from the hypnotic powers of that cock when the mighty orc fell back to the ground, landing on his knees and catching his weight on his hands and knees. Huffing and letting out loud, animalistic grunts, Ghorrend the Governor of Avergreen lifted his right hand, flexing the fingers and examining it.

"Well..." he rumbled, his voice a whole octave deeper. "... Part of me didn't think you actually could do it."

The titanic beast rose, making Payton back away slightly as this beast had to at least be eight feet tall. Ghorrend's head brushed up against the ceiling and he grunted, closing one eye as he lifted a hand to test out where he stood in comparison to the rest of the room. With a faint snarl, he fell back to one knee.

Which served another purpose as he bowed his head in Payton's direction.

"I swear fealty to you, Dark Lord Payton Rendshaw. You have my blade and body for so long as you will have it and for so long as our agreement remains intact."

At that moment, the doors to the jail burst open. Durandal and Axter came rushing in.

"Master!" the blue lion cried, four icicles already hovering ominously over his shoulders and his serpent tail hissing. Durandal was right beside him, sword drawn.

"What in the world...?" whispered the boar. "An orc...?"

"A Grigori," Payton responded, regaining his composure. A look past his two party members revealed several concerned villagers were behind them, peering in to see what had happened. Tartarius and a still-drunk Ravenus were trying to keep them from charging in. "A Grigori that just so happens to take the shape of an orc."

"What happened to Gaolsheer?"

Payton reached for the cell bars and with a simple wave of his paw, unlocked the cell, letting Ghorrend to barely squeeze through opening. "I sacrificed him to summon Ghorrend."

The villagers gasped and began muttering amongst themselves. He exchanged glances with the orc who nodded at him briefly.

Ghorrend slapped a fist against his chest. "My named is Ghorrend! The Dark Lord has assigned me to be your governor! I shall protect you and make sure all our enemies are little more than bloody smears to fertilize our crops!"

He hasn't lost his bloodlust but at least now, it's somewhat tempered and being directed in a constructive manner.

Durandal and Axter stepped respectfully aside as Payton addressed the crowd. "Avergreen needs leadership and I give you Ghorrend. His skills and abilities will defend you from danger while also lifting your levels. He will need your help, however." He walked out of the jail, lifting his head and voice at the same time. "Gobhood is going to send troops to take back Avergreen. To them, you are all traitors for harboring Grigori in a time of the Black Halo. Were they ever to discover that you were celebrating with the Dark Lord, they won't hesitate to kill you all!

"My party and I are going to deal with the problem at the heart! Gobhood has more resources, more troops and more allies. We cannot simply stand here and defend ourselves forever. So I will personally go to Gobhood and deal with Faoster and his Speakers!"

Pause for effect.

The villagers cheered, pumping fists into the air even if some of them were a little unsure about the Dark Lord, their protector, leaving them.

"In the meantime, Ghorrend will do his best to defend you all! He is Level 20, same as Gaolsheer. With his power and yours, you will stand the tide from Gobhood! You will stand strong!"

The cheers were far more confident now.

To add a finishing touch, Durandal shoved his longsword into the air. "For Avergreen! For the Dark Lord!"

The cry was repeated by the crowd.

"For Avergreen! For the Dark Lord!"

Ghorrend chuckled but hadn't emerged from the jail. "Nice speech, Your Great Evilness. Now if you could all fuck off?" He pointed at his still very erect cock. "... I need to take care of this."

******

Amongst the Speakers of Gobhood, perhaps the most approachable was the Head Chef of the Greenworks. The tall, athletically built man was one of the most loved figures under Faoster's rule second only to the Goblin Knight. Whereas the Emerald Mage and Greensmith chose to recuse themselves from the public, it was the Head Chef that had the most interaction with the people.

Little wonder as he oversaw the one place in all of Gobhood that the renowned Gobhood Stew was produced. The delicacy was famous for not only being delicious but filling and nutritious as well. As a product of one of the Speakers, it was widely spread and freely distributed all over the city. One could even argue that it was the mainstay of everyone's diet.

Why cook for yourself or even get your goblin slaves to cook for you when you could get food for free.

It was one of the reasons why the Greenworks - the district of town that was under the Head Chef's control - was so well-populated. Positioned on the shore of the Korvaron Lake, the Greenworks was what one could consider the more opulent side of the lower wards. Roads were wide, homes were richly decorated and everyone was given a yard that was lush and green. Magical lights and technological wonders provided everything necessary for the day-to-day activities of its citizens. As always, the Greenworks Soup Kitchen was open.

By no means a facility for the poor or disenfranchised, the Soup Kitchen was what many would consider a fine dining establishment. Spanning many floors with both outdoor and indoor dining, the Soup Kitchen was serviced by well-trained goblins who brought different variations of Gobhood Stew to all its diners for free.

Perched at the kitchen, front and center in front of everyone, was the Head Chef, ordering his chef goblins in the correct preparations of the day's specials and ensuring that every dish was perfect. He was a conductor guiding a whole orchestra as they played to please the tastebuds of all their diners and indeed, all of Gobhood. Some of the chefs had to be dedicated the delivery and takeaway orders which fed into the rest of the city like blood being fed through arteries to keep the rest of the body going.

The Chef, however, had to pause his elegant dance when he noticed a familiar face and a friend approaching the kitchen.

"Continue as you are," said Chef. "Let not a single Stew grow cold. I have a visitor."

The Chef removed his toque and gestured for his guest to follow him to a private dining booth away from prying eyes. They sat down opposite to each other with the velvet curtains drawn to give them a modicum of privacy.

"It is rare to see you away from the Verdant Gardens," the Chef began. "To what do I owe this honor?"

The Emerald Mage gave him a thin smile. "I know but I have been charged by our great Listener to ensure that everything is prepared for our esteemed guests when they arrive. We must prepare appropriately, after all."

The Chef waved a dismissive hand in his direction. "Yes, yes. Everything will be prepared. The question is whether or not you will be ready." The Mage gave him a not-so-convincing innocent look. "Oh don't give me that look. You and I both know that you're going to use this opportunity to show off your latest abomination to Orphan."

The Mage bristled a little. "My creations are not abominations. They are pinnacles of evolution."

"They are an affront to both Lord Faoster and Master Orphan. Our Reader gave our Listener the spell to summon goblins out of nothing. To improve upon the original goblin design is an insult to both of them."

"Neither Faoster nor Orphan are so narrow-minded as to believe that there is no room for improvement. That is why they tasked us with finding new and inventive ways to use the goblins that they provide! Is that not the secret behind your renowned Stew?"

The Chef shook his head. "What are you implying?"

A cruel smile touched the Mage's lips and he tilted his head back in that familiar way he looked down upon others. "Why, without spices or complimentary ingredients -"

"Enough," snapped the Chef sharply. "What I do is nothing compared to what you do." He rose from his seat, turning to leave in a huff. "You can assure Lord Faoster that I will have my best served to our Reader. You best ensure that you are prepared to give your best for who knows when the next Black Halo will appear after this one."

"Or if there ever will be another."

The Chef turned towards the Mage quizzically.

"Haven't you noticed?" continued the magic-user. "The gaps between the Black Halos have been getting wider. When we first met over three hundred years ago, a Halo would occur every few months. But then the gaps between each one started to grow longer. It would take half a year between each Halo. Then a whole year. Then two. This time, it was about a decade between the last few Halos."

"Then so much the better."

"Some would argue otherwise."

The Chef narrowed his gaze at the chef. "Not I. The less time I have to devote to hunting down any Grigori in the Greenworks the better. I will have more time to my recipes and my customers. Now if you'll excuse me..." He pulled aside the curtain. "... I've been away from the kitchen long enough."

As the Chef stood and returned to his station, he vaguely took notice of a woman covered in a bright blue shawl dining with two others. One of her guests was this squat fellow with a thick, bushy beard that he was sure he recognized somewhere before. The other was a tall, dour figure wearing a beak-shaped mask. They seemed like adventurers or heroes. Normally, he wouldn't even give them any thought but something about the woman just made him pause. A clatter from the kitchen drew his attention away, however and he let out a sigh before setting aside his concerns.

On the table of three, the woman spoke in a very soft whisper.

"Are you ready to go to Avergreen?"

The squat, hairy man downed the last of his mug and let out a soft growl. "As long as we get to eat something apart from this shite. I've been having nothing but Gobhood Stew for months! I don't care what the Head Chef does to make it different each time. I'm sick of it!"

The tall man in the black robes spoke with a muffled tone, his voice partially obscured by the mask he wore. "Keep your voice down, Carlisle. Not everyone holds disdain for the Speakers like you do."

"Fuck you, Gustav." He turned his gaze to the blue-haired woman. "Well? What're ya watin' fer? Let's fucking go."

The woman nodded sagely, lowering her voice. "Yes. Let us see if the rumors of this Dark Lord are indeed true."

******

There was no telling when Gobhood would start sending its troops to Avergreen so Ghorrend and Payton had to work fast to build defenses. Coupled with Durandal's tactical mind, Tartarius' surprising skill for crafting and Payton's ability to replicate materials, they made quick progress by the end of the first day. Axter had seen to it that the bodies of those charred by Gaolsheer had been taken down from the stakes on the outskirts of town and given a proper burial. Ravenus took some hunters with him to keep watch and bring in hunted game and supplies to start stockpiling resources in preparation for a lengthy siege.

The villagers were at first rather begrudging to start any sort of manual labor. They had fully expected that Ghorrend would do everything and somehow miraculously defend them without any assistance. Many complained that if they had their goblins, they could just get them to work. It reminded Payton a lot of those quest chains in videogames where, despite the fact that the quest giver had infinite resources at their disposal, the protagonist had to do everything from collecting materials, building tools and then fighting off the huge evil army approaching them.

Ghorrend gave them an earful, channeling his inner Gaolsheer in the process.

"You don't have your goblins and fairly soon, you won't have your heads! So you either dig or I'll kill you right now and use your corpse as part of the fucking barricade!"

That got them moving.

A trench filled with wooden stakes was quickly formed around the village with a single drawbridge constructed alongside a crude, palisade. It wasn't exactly the most impregnable defense but it would serve to delay a small contingent of soldiers from overtaking Avergreen. The process became extremely easy the more sections of wall were erected. Payton was simply able to copy the section and 'paste' it in space, erecting the whole wall in less than an hour when it would have taken days to cut down the trees, shape them into logs and then erect them along the outskirts of the village.

Then came the construction of weapons and training.

None of the villagers really had any military training though some were part of the militia. Their training was mostly limited to swinging crude farming weapons and hoping it'd hit something. This was where Durandal's expertise as part of the military came into play.

The space where the town hall once stood had been converted into a training ground. Payton watched from the sidelines as many of the militia and even some women were being trained by Durandal on some basic swings and combat maneuvers. It had surprised him when Tartarius revealed that he had learned some basic blacksmithing skills in his tenure as an indentured servant of Avergreen. It wasn't anything special but he now that he was named, he was able to increase his blacksmithing skill with each iteration. By the end of the first day, he had created a decent, Level 1 Shortsword that could be distributed amongst the populace. Payton replicated it to ensure the militia had something to train with while Tartarius continued to hone his craft.

"First position!" barked Durandal. The militia, standing all in a neat line, took a step back, lifting the wooden shields that they were wielding. "Second position!" In response, they all swung their blades downward, taking a step forward. "Third position!" They all swung their swords upwards and in a single motion, swung it back down, bringing themselves automatically back to 'First Position'.

A loud grunt brought his attention to towering hulk of an orc standing beside him.

"Useless," grunted Ghorrend, a wooden cup of water in his mighty hands. "None of these organized 'positions' will do them any good on the battlefield. Battle is chaos. Battle is blood. It'll all go to hell the minute arrows start raining down on them and armored men come charging at them."

Payton was inclined to disagree. "I don't know. Durandal's plans seemed to work well enough against you."

The orc huffed before wiping the brown towel around his neck over his brow. "This body will take some getting used to but I look forward to the day when I pitch that pig's 'plans' against my might."

He tried not to ogle the orc's broad, hairy chest laid bare and covered with sweat. Ghorrend had been training as well between cleaning up the charred remains of the homes he had burned down as Gaolsheer. Ever since he had seen the big orc's dick something just stirred within Payton that he could barely keep contained. It was a deep, primal longing and it didn't take a genius to realize what it was.

I haven't jacked off in close to a week! I'm blue-balling here!

As tempting as it was to just find some woman to lay with - and he was sure any of them would be eager to bed their savior and Dark Lord - it felt wrong to force himself upon some bimbo because of his station.

Yet you're perfectly horny for the guy that devastated this town, you humiliated and then turned into an orc!

What the fuck is wrong with you!?

Also, why are you into guys all of the sudden!?

For the longest time, Payton had thought he was straight or at the very least, asexual. Sure he masturbated here and there but often times it was just to get off. He never watched anything or even thought of anyone in particular. All his focus was on the sensations radiating from his cock. Finding a relationship had never been his priority. Why get into a relationship when everything was already so good?

But that's what's wrong with this world, isn't it? The majority is satisfied with how things are so they turn a blind eye to the atrocities that are needed to keep things as they are.

I wonder what sort of atrocities I ignored or remained willfully ignorant of back on Earth.

"Might isn't everything, you know. I mean, even you have to use your Skills." He gave Ghorrend a lopsided smirk. "Given you're not getting Goblinshredder back, that's probably all you can rely on."

The orc snorted derisively and regarded the large two-handed battleaxe embedded in the ground beside him. While he was a Level 20 Brawler, all his equipment had been confiscated predominantly because none of it would fit him anymore. He didn't have his magic gloves or boots so he was back to wielding the big axe in both hands. This was an axe built by Tartarius as well so it was at Level 1 with no skills activated and fairly basic statistics. The only thing Ghorrend had to rely on for now was his Skills.

"You're not making defending this town easy," grunted the orc.

"You mean apart from providing free materials, weapons, armor and the expertise of my party?"

"You know what I mean." Ghorrend sat down on the crate beside Payton. "These villagers are little more than cannon fodder as they are now. Once that wall comes down, they'll be utterly useless. In case you haven't noticed, even with me as the Governor of this town, most people aren't going to rise above Level 2. My Governing Skill isn't that high."

Payton smirked as he caught a figure approaching him. "I don't need it to be."

"What?"

"Just watch."

The man that approached him was still in chains and stripped of his clothing save for a loin cloth. There was no denying he was one of the soldiers that had been put to work to help reinforce the town. He approached the duo as the barrel of fresh water sat closest to them.

"Sir Ghorrend," the man greeted with a slight nod. "Lord Rendshaw."

"Hello," Payton greeted calmly. "Would you like some water?"

"Water and... more." Ghorrend lifted an eyebrow as the man fell to his knees, head bowed. "Milord, I humbly ask that you allow me to join your army in defense of Avergreen."

The newly formed orc turned towards Payton with a curious look.

It's working.

There were other members of the former company who were spying on the conversation not-so-subtly from where they stood, trying to look busy continuing with the cleanup or with busywork. Even some citizens of Avergreen were peering on curiously.

These people know that they're as good as dead when Gobhood sends its troops. They say that hostage takers will never shoot the hostage but that's only if they know they have no escape. I've watched too many crime dramas to know that when you corner a kidnapper and their hostage, the kidnapper will always hurt the hostage if it'll give them a few more seconds to live.

These guys won't get rescued. They'll be slaughtered.

"What brought this on?" Payton asked calmly. "How can I even trust you? Aren't you loyal to Gobhood?"

"My loyalty won't buy me a few days of life nor will it save me from being slaughtered when Gobhood attacks." The man lifted his gaze, regarding Ghorrend accusingly. "I know how these battles go. Gobhood won't negotiate. They won't barter for our release. The moment you have no leverage and you have no option to fight, you'll kill us. I'd rather die fighting than be slaughtered like a lamb."

"Don't you hold out any hope that when Gobhood comes, they might win and rescue you?"

The man gave him a sarcastic smile. "You've proven yourself as cunning as any Listener with all the power of multiple Readers. We know your plan was to leave Avergreen, circle around the approaching Gobhood troops and then attack them from behind while they beat themselves against your walls. You'll slaughter them, buy yourself another week to further fortify this place and maybe make your assault on Gobhood. By the time the first batch arrive, this place will be difficult to breach. If given two weeks, it'll be impregnable."

I honestly hadn't considered that but good to know that's an option.

"He's right," Ghorrend rumbled. "Gobhood will probably send a small contingent to figure out what happened to m -" The orc caught himself. "... Gaolsheer and his troops. They'll either attack thinking they can take these walls or turn back and call for reinforcements. For siege weapons and the like. If they attack, they might win but we'll leave them bloody. Might not even survive the trip back. If they decide to retreat, they'll waste another week traveling back and then spend another week or more getting here. If they're bringing siege weapons, it'd take more time as they'd have to assemble everything."

The orc nodded grimly. "I've got to say, Your Unholiness. Seems to me you've cornered everyone."

Purely by accident! I just sort of thought that if they learned you'd been redeemed, they might take a gamble of becoming a Grigori instead of being killed!

"I swear my loyalty to you, Dark Lord," pleaded the man. "I just beg that you do not sacrifice me as you did that asshole, Gaolsheer."

Ghorrend began to rise but Payton grabbed his wrist and pushed him back down. The veins on the orc's palms were so thick and juicy... The heat radiating from him was intoxicating and made his skin crawl.

Hmmm... I wonder how I can make this work...

When he had transformed Gaolsheer into Ghorrend, he had done so by changing the former-adventurer's race. That had triggered a full editable version of his character sheet. But he didn't want to change this man's race. Not only would that mean he'd be creating more Grigori and have to come up with abilities for each of them but he was opening the door for a rebellion later on if he kept their personalities intact.

Unless...

There was one command he had seen that had sparked his interest.

EditBio.

"What can you offer us?" Payton asked. "Apart from your sword arm, I'd expect more from you as a Level 16 soldier."

"Sir!" barked the man proudly. "I have trained in weapon and armor maintenance. I have a decent blacksmithing skill and can help maintain and even create new weapons for our troops! Further, I am trained in Gobhood's tactics and I can help train the recruits!"

Sweet! If the others are like him, that means I can leave with Durandal and Tartarius guilt free! They might even be able to train the civilians and build weapons faster and with better quality!

"So can I," grunted Ghorrend. "You'll have to do something more than that."

Oh... Good point... Wait. If he's got a better Blacksmithing skill, why didn't I just get him to make the weapons!?

"I don't know what else I can offer, Sir Ghorrend," said the soldier meekly. "I am merely a soldier. All I can offer is my life and my blood."

That manic grin touched Ghorrend's features that brought back haunting memories of Gaolsheer. "Funny you should mention your blood. You see, my skill as a Grigori is to recover health whenever I am in the presence of blood that is not my own. Become my Bloodguard. Stand beside me in the heat of battle and let me use your blood as I cut through our enemies."

What the hell!?

Before Payton could respond, the soldier pounded his chest with a fist. "Sir! I will gladly open my veins to you should you need it to recover! My blood is yours!"

Just by the look on Ghorrend's face, this was an arrangement the former-adventurer really liked.

But Payton was not going to have any of it.

"That's completely and utterly stupid," he said casually. "An exsanguinated corpse is useless in the field of battle and to a city as a whole. If you're going to get a whole horde of Bloodguards, you better make sure they do not kill themselves sacrificing their blood to you."

Ghorrend's smile wavered a little and a soft challenging growl rose from his throat. "And why not?"

There were many ways he could approach this issue. A direct command from the Dark Lord would quickly silence the orc's protests but could plant the seeds of resentment. If Ghorrend started recruiting Bloodguards, he could stage a rebellion. Might even manage to win the favor of the Speakers and Listeners if he managed to retake a town captured by the Dark Lord. A deed that might just get him that coveted promotion to the Advanced Classes.

Logic was his best option.

Payton leaned back, propping a leg up on the crate he was sitting on. With a wave of his paw he opened his muzzle to begin but before he could, Tartarius interrupted.

"You're currently capped at Level 20. If you're matched up against a guy who is equal to or above your strength and you get your ass handed to you, constantly regenerating while sacrificing the lives of those around you will be like if you were trying to dig through a brick wall with a toothpick. I'm not saying you'll eventually get through but you're either going to have to go through a lot of toothpicks and could end up with a bloody splinter that'll get infected, develop pus and cause you to die of sepsis or some shit. It just doesn't make sense."

The rhino with the rune-covered skin shook his head and sat down next to Payton, casually draping an arm over the wolf's shoulder. "Naw, dude. What you've got to do is make sure you only take what you need. Don't go overboard either. You don't have to be at full health all the time. If you can take a hit but your Bloodguard is surrounded or bleeding to death, you fight to defend them instead of sacrificing them to keep you healthy when you don't need it. It's just logical."

"That's right," Payton said, taking over from the rhino. "You're all part of Avergreen now." He looked directly at Ghorrend. "You're the governor of this town. You are defined by its people just as you define it. You won't have much of a town if no one is left in it."

Ghorrend mulled over the words thoughtfully with a loud hum.

As he did so, Payton turned towards the lone soldier. "You'll excuse me if I don't fully trust you. So I will cast a spell upon you. A compulsion. A... geas. You will be bound to serve Avergreen under Ghorrend. You will never sacrifice your blood to him even if he asks if he is already at 100% health or if you are below 75%. You will never do anything humiliating, underhanded, degrading or against your own moral compass but you will do whatever you can within reason to defend Avergreen and your commander. Do you accept these terms?"

God, I sound like a goddamn Acceptable Use Policy...

The soldier nodded solemnly, bowing his head once more. "I do."

"Alright then."

For dramatic effect, Payton held out his paw towards the man and invoked the EditBio command. Like when he had altered Ghorrend's character sheet, a warning popup appeared.

'You are about to directly edit the biography of the chosen character. This can lead to severe mental strain, identity crises, existential conflicts and causality issues. Do you wish to proceed?'

Along with the popup, the magical circle that had appeared when he had transformed Gaolsheer sprang up beneath the man. It seemed that the circle only appeared whenever he made drastic changes to a character.

Got to play this right.

Payton confirmed and he was given access to the man's character sheet once more but with focus on the biography. Again, he did not touch any of the existing text but added a paragraph of his own at the end outlining how, after swearing loyalty to the Dark Lord, he entered a geas with Ghorrend of Avergreen with the above terms. Just as an extra clause, he decided to add that the power of the geas increased his Endurance by 5 points to supplement his new role as Bloodguard.

To his surprise, a new item under 'Features' appeared the moment he hit commit. 'Bloodguard Geas' stated that as a member of the Bloodguard, he was given an extra 5 points into Endurance. This had the immediately effect of the man suddenly hunching over, gnashing his teeth together and letting out a low, feral growl. The veins on the back of his hand glowed a bright red. That glow quickly spread up his forearms, over his biceps and from there, spread rapidly throughout his body. Even his eyes became bloodshot and nearly completely red.

He threw his head back, letting out a primal scream. The muscles all over his body bulged, more and more mass quickly being added to them though it was less raw strength and more like dirty bulk. He quickly lost some of his definition but continued to widen. His chiseled chest broadened, tearing through the fabric of his tunic to reveal the rapidly fading abdominals in favor of a bigger belly. The trousers around his legs tightened, tearing slightly but they didn't explode like his shirt.

As quickly as the change occurred, it faded and it took the circle of light with it. The soldier fell to his knees, gasping and panting, regarding his new, powerful hands with awe.

"That's hot..." Tartarius whispered.

Ghorrend stood and approached the man. He held out a big, green hand. "Welcome to the Bloodguard, brother."

******

The formation of the Bloodguard quickly spread across the remaining captive soldiers. They were thrilled for another chance to fight and serve a seemingly more benevolent lord. One by one, Payton transformed those that would join the Bloodguard into bigger, bulkier men who were bound by a geas and swore fealty to the Dark Lord and Ghorrend.

Durandal wasn't that trusting of the orc who had previously been the man who would have cut off his head to serve to the Readers but he trusted in Payton's judgement. That judgement had yet to steer them wrong, after all. He did feel somewhat inadequate when the Bloodguard and Ghorrend began taking over training sessions. They had a higher Leadership Skill than he did and still retained their high levels so the populace immediately went to learning alongside them.

That left him with little to do but review the defenses of the town and ponder what else they could be missing. That was something he had done for the past few hours... at least ten times. Now he was growing bored and restless.

Feeling useless was his greatest fear. He had felt useless when his commanding officer and general had died in his arms. He had felt useless when baseless accusations were thrown at him. He had been useless when he had been carted off to his execution.

But that all changed with Payton.

For once, he felt like he had a purpose again. There was so much joy and satisfaction to be had in taking care of the wolf, protecting him, hunting for him and defending him. When they had won that victory against Gaolsheer, he had never felt prouder.

But now... Gaolsheer was Ghorrend and statistics wise, the man was far better than him.

He hadn't even leveled up from all that. There as little combat in their little skirmish. No experience. Sure he got a bit into his Leadership skill from training others and his Tactics Skill went up several levels with his planning but now... what was he?

He sighed heavily, watching the candle burn slowly on his small wooden desk in the sole watchtower of Avergreen. A new construction. Tartarius was putting his crafting skills to good use designing all their defenses and traps so he was obtaining a lot of skill experience from that. Even Ravenus' scouting and hunting expeditions into the woods yielded great results. Axter was apparently teaching a few other civilians magic and was naturally serving Payton.

Everyone seemed to have a purpose except him.

A knock came to the trapdoor of the tower.

"Enter," he began.

The door sprang open and he was surprised to see the grey-tripped, reddish-brown ears of his Dark Lord poked through the floor.

"There you are," Payton said, beaming at him. "I've been looking all over for you."

Durandal immediately got to his feet and bowed his head in apology. "Sorry. I've been reviewing the plans and defenses of the town."

"Don't get too comfortable. We're going to be leaving in two days."

"That's exactly why I have to review them," he responded with a shaky smile. "I want to leave the town with every chance it has for surviving the oncoming onslaught."

Payton climbed the rest of the ladder into the watchtower, carrying a heavy pack. Durandal immediately went to his side and took the pack from him. "I'm sure Ghorrend and his Bloodguard will do fine."

That statement stung and almost made him drop the pack.

"You know Ghorrend is actually working with Axter and they're trying to delve into Blood Magic?"

Blood Magic. That was the realm of another of the Readers far to the south. It wasn't so common further up north but he had heard that it was a possibility. Considering the reliance of the Bloodguard on... well, blood it sort of made sense.

"Really?" Durandal replied, feigning interest. He set the back down on his table. Something metallic rattled inside. "I didn't think a brute like him would take any sort of interest in magic."

"He's less interested about the magic and more about the blood," Payton admitted offhandedly. "Gaolsheer was always about blood. He loved bathing in it. I just redirected that passion from wanton executions to conserving blood and using it wisely. To cherish every drop as opposed to just splattering it all over everything."

That was a truly admirable quality about Payton. He didn't give up on others. Many would have just left Ravenus to die by the Vorpal Arrow the first time they had met. Most would have never helped half-starved Grigori like Axter. Even less would have taken the time and effort to resurrect the very same people that had attacked them let alone made allies of them. No one in their right mind would have converted the murderous Executioner known as Gaolsheer into an industrious albeit-still-blood-loving orc.

And really, no one should have given an old boar like him a second chance after learning that he used to be part of Inferiorix's army and hunt his own kind. Though no one else knew that, he was fairly sure that Payton knew.

That was something he truly admired about the wolf.

"I'm sure Gobhood would be in for a surprise if they start weaponizing their own blood," chuckled Durandal. "I'll work that into my calculations."

"You might want to spend less time over your plans and maps and on this." Payton said, patting the pack he carried. "I had some of the Bloodguard make this for you. Everyone else is getting some made as well but I had yours made first given you're basically our front-line fighter."

Curiosity got the better of him and Durandal opened the pack. Inside was a nice, fresh metal breastplate accompanied by some metal bracers, greaves and heavy metal boots. They were all designed with a distinct silvery-green tinge to them - likely the metal local to this area. Surprisingly, they were quite light but didn't easily bend or buckle when he applied pressure. Each of them was emblazoned with the emblem of what appeared to be a tree over the Black Halo Sun that appeared whenever Payton cast a powerful spell.

"The soldiers are calling it the 'Armour of the Bloodguard'," Payton explained. "It's still only Level 1 since it's new but it's pretty durable and from what I can tell, it's a Rare-quality equipment. I think that means it can have seven skills attached to it when it's fully leveled up."

"It's beautiful," Durandal said, lifting the bracers and strapping one onto his forearms. It fit perfectly.

"I have a greatsword and a longsword being made for you as well," Payton said. "But they're still on their way."

"You're not making some for yourself?"

The Dark Lord shook his head. "Considering how I'm basically immortal, I don't need armor. At least not yet. You guys need it more than I do."

Durandal couldn't help but smile as he removed the bracers and set them back down. "I'll be sure to wear them on our journey ahead." He ran his tongue over his tusks, a nervous habit of his. "If I may be frank, Payton... I will be glad to leave Avergreen."

The wolf waved a paw absently through the air. "I know, I know. Gobhood is coming and we really need to get going if we want to take advantage of their confusion but I can't leave these people unprepared just the same as you."

"Yes, that, but more..." He gave Payton a bashful stare. "I... With Ghorrend around, I found that I haven't been doing as much anymore now that most of the defenses are built. The Bloodguard are training the others and with all the manpower, I felt I don't have much of a purpose. Being on the road again gives me hope that I can once again go back to being your bodyguard."

The wolf looked surprised by the statement. That expression softened and he took a step forward. "Durandal, I'm sorry you've felt this way. I've been so busy trying to organize everything and using my powers to make sure Avergreen is provided for that I've totally neglected you. I probably should be checking up on the others as well." He ran a paw down his face. "Jesus... If this were an RPG, I'd potentially have lost points because I haven't been talking to everyone enough."

"What?"

Payton waved the question away. "The point is, I've been neglecting you and I'm sorry. But if it makes you feel any better, there is something you can always help me with."

Durandal's heart skipped a beat. "What's that?"

The wolf stepped a little closer, a light blush on his cheeks. "Well... I don't know if you haven't noticed but... I don't think I'm getting any experience or levels."

That puzzled the boar... He remembered the Dark Lord killing one of the hunters that had attacked them on the road. Though the man was resurrected a moment later so many any experience points gained from the action was reversed. There was also the soldier that he had obliterated and that should have been plenty of experience.

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

Payton turned to look out the open windows that gave a clear view of Avergreen and the surrounding countryside. "When I spoke to the Ghorrend, he told me that even when he was doing mundane things, he could always feel himself getting strong. Like there was a little counter in his head that told him that he was developing. I asked Axter, Tartarius and Ravenus about this and they all felt the same thing."

That was a feeling Durandal knew as well. Back in the army, his commanding officer was named so that sensation was something he was used to being described to him. Now that he was feeling it himself, he knew what it was but never gave it much thought because of his history with a named.

"There's one surefire way to find out," he said.

"Pick up a weapon higher level than I am that I don't own and see if I can use it's Skills?" Payton finished. "Tried that. You'd think after all I had done, I'd get at least one level but I can't even use the skills of a Level 2 sword. It doesn't seem like I'm getting any of the perks of the levelling system."

That was terrifying. No leveling meant that Payton couldn't add points to his Base Statistics. He could never physically grow stronger or mentally have more capacity than he had now.

"Maybe there's a reason for that," Durandal offered lamely, stepping a little closer until they were basically bumping chests. "You are the Dark Lord. Maybe it's less about you not leveling as it's that you're so high level..."

Payton shook his head. "No, Durandal. I think the reality is that while I have a name, I'm not really named. I'll always be at Level 1. I don't think I even have a Class. I can use my natural abilities and maybe the abilities of my equipment but I am never going to get much stronger than I am now." He beamed at the boar. "That's why I'll need you, Axter, Tartarius and Ravenus! I need you all to protect me and train me!"

"Train you?"

"I may not level up personally but I can level up my equipment, learn skills other ways and all that. Plus, if I've got you four defending me, I'll be pretty much set!"

A smile slowly crawled onto Durandal's features. "So you need us."

"Always."

The boar had to fight back tears of relief and he couldn't bring himself to look into the wolf's bright, blue eyes. Calling on his training as a soldier, he instead focused on a point on Payton's forehead so he looked like he was looking the wolf directly in the eyes.

Thankfully he didn't have to do it for much longer as Payton patted his chest and turned. "So you don't have to worry about never feeling like you're needed. I will always need you to cover my ass because, frankly, I can't do it myself. If you want, you can remind me every day to come train with you on swordsmanship or whatever so we can improve my equipment. I mean, I may not get the skills of a Brawler or anything but that won't matter if I'm still good with a sword!"

Durandal grinned brightly and nodded, squeezing his eyes shut in the moment. That was a mistake as a little tear pushed itself out from the corner of his left eye. "As you wish. We shall begin training first thing tomorrow morning."

"Looking forward to it! I'll see you at dinner!"

Payton ducked back down the ladder of the watchtower, shutting the trapdoor behind him.

Durandal sighed and wiped the tear away, regarding it sitting on the tip of his finger, slowly being absorbed into his fur.

"Damnit..." he cursed softly. "Should've kissed him..."

******

The drawbridge to Avergreen swung down, landing perfectly onto the stone platform on the other side of the defensive moat. Golden rays of the morning sun beat down on the road and one would never be able to tell that a mere four days ago, the town had been assaulted by a bloodthirsty Executioner. Though the plains and crops had yet to grow back, there were flecks of green as nature started to heal the damage caused by one Gaolsheer of Gobhood. They town itself had evolved from a peaceful and idyllic township to a miniature bastion in preparation for the inevitable attack from Gobhood.

But Payton was not going to sit around and just wait for the attack to come.

It was time to leave. The Dark Lord had his destiny to fulfill.

The red wolf took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had hoped to leave a day earlier but it had taken a little more time to craft equipment for the entire party. In fact, he had so gotten used to wearing the rags that been forced onto him when he first appeared in Lexcia that he totally forgotten that he was basically wearing a burlap sack. It felt strange to take a bath - especially since he now had fur and a tail - and don the new gear that Tartarius had crafted for him.

As their designated craftsman, Tartarius had made a white, long-sleeved, button-up shirt for him that tucked into a pair of black, flexible pants. A blue-green vest that had a scaly texture when seen in the right light sat over the shirt accompanied by a black cloak with a hood. A pair of simple, brown shoes wrapped around his feet. While offering little in terms of defense, the ensemble uniquely had a set bonus. Tartarius drew upon his knowledge of MMO games from his version of Earth to craft the gear so that when worn together, they would give a unique effect based on which vest that Payton wore.

Apparently crafting had much to do with the environment an item was crafted in as much as the materials used and even if you were to craft the same kind of item with the same kind of materials but in different locations, they would come out differently. This was a reason why Tartarius was able to create Avergreen-themed equipment for everyone. Payton's Evergreen Vest, when worn with the rest of his Dark Lord set, gave him a passive bonus to his Stealth skill when in the woods or forest areas. Not exactly that helpful when in the city but would get them through the forests on their way to Gobhood.

"This is the day," he sighed.

The others in his party similarly had new equipment as well.

Durandal gripped his shoulder tightly, smiling down at him. The four-armed boar wore his new plate armor made from light materials over a heavy, black shirt and dark brown pants. He kept the big, dark green cloak he had pilfered from the soldiers when they first arrived. Over his shoulder was a massive greatsword that uniquely had a double-bladed axe-head as a grip which Tartarius said had been inspired by Goblinshredder. A longsword hung by his hip which had a similarly shaped guard. While appearing unique for the most part, both weapons were still considered Level 1 Uncommon items and was thus far just called the Avergreen Greatsword and Avergreen Longsword respectively.

"Come what may, we will meet it head on."

A cheery bat's head suddenly popped up over Durandal's shoulder and the lean, limber Ravenus leapt onto the big boar's shoulders.

Tight, form-fitting black-green armor hugged Ravenus' lean form. The heavy-looking torso section had multiple pockets mounted on his chest and on the sleeves for various Rogue equipment that he could use. Long, black, leather trousers reached all the way down to his ankles where his feet were left bare on his insistence. It would be easier to sneak around without shoes, he said. The armor had been crafted to make sure that he had plenty of mobility for his wings and still room for the shortbow and quiver slung over his shoulder. For close-quarters combat, Ravenus had two daggers hanging by his hips, both of them shaped like large, curved axe-blades made for cutting instead of piercing.

Ravenus pumped a fist into the air with a bright cheer. "You bet! Onward to Gobhood!"

Payton felt the cooling presence of Axter on his other side and he turned in time to see the lion adjust the gold-framed glasses he had been given. The glasses didn't fix his sight. They were magically enchanted to help him see more details about his enemies.

It was Axter's garments that made him suspiciously seem ill-fit for combat or adventuring but apparently, the chimera had insisted he wear something more... formal. The dark green jacket he wore was trimmed with silver complete with silvery buckles and buttons. A light-green cravat was tightly wound around his neck complimenting his ice-blue fur. Beneath the jacket was a clean, pressed shirt tucked perfectly into formal slacks that were cut off about halfway down his calves. Like Ravenus, Axter had insisted on going barefoot. He had no outward weapons save for the light-green, crystal orb that he kept in his pack.

"Are you ready, Master?" asked the chimera. "Did you forget anything?"

"Bro, stop asking him that!" bellowed the might Tartarius, bounding past Axter. "We've checked and rechecked everything a hundred times! Let's fucking go!"

The glowing runes all over his body were a dead giveaway and would render any attempt at stealth futile so the first thing he did was wrap big, black bandages over his body. This left most of his torso unarmored save for the cloth but that suited him just fine as he couldn't carry much anyway. His legs were covered in thick plate armor, that slipped around his legs, shins and feet. Spikes jutted out of each piece of metal like he had emerged from a punk-rock band or mimicking his horns. It was his weapon of choice that had left most others gobsmacked.

Instead of taking a bow or a maybe even a crossbow as an Archer-Class should, Tartarius had insisted on building his own probable ballista. Payton still couldn't believe he was watching the rhino carry a deployable siege weapon on his back. It seemed incredibly ungainly but Tartarius' reasoning was that since Ravenus had a bow, he needed to make himself unique. So he was going to play the role of the heavy Archer. Naturally, for short-ranged combat the rhino had his own smithing hammer.

Payton turned around and nodded towards the procession behind him.

"Leave Avergreen to us," rumbled Ghorrend, now dressed in red and green armour and flanked by his Bloodguard dressed in fairly the same style. "We'll defend it with our lives."

"I'm counting on you," Payton affirmed.

But before I really leave...

He turned and regarded the space right in front of him, the ground between his feet. Pulling out his makeshift grimoire, he wrote down three numbers on it using the new pen that Tartarius had given him. It was a good thing that their craftsman came from Earth because he couldn't imagine using a quill or charcoal on the book for much longer. The rhino had repaired and restored the book as well, reinforcing it with silver plating and changing the cover to be far more durable.

Payton shut the book and lifted his head. "Alright. Let's go!" He pumped a fist into the air. "Look out Faoster! We're coming for you!"