Blood Money - 1. Foiling the Attack

A warmth filled the tavern. Not just from the light, but from the joviality of those inside, and not a little from the heated salmon and curry-covered rice Ameiko Kaijitsu, the tavern’s owner, had cooked up to celebrate the Swallowtail Festival.
The sounds of the festival itself barely penetrated the chaos of the tavern. It took Ameiko Kaijitsu a few attempts to settle everyone down in a seat.
“Alright! Has everyone gotten their free food outa me yet?” the golden tanned Tian-Min woman called amidst a few snickers. “Grand. And a reminder, I don’t like seeing good food wasted. You don’t like my fine cooking, go try the Hagfish. Perhaps Norah will be more suited to your tastes!
“Now!” She strode around the tavern, dropping a dull grey stone on each table. “The Swallowtail Festival has brought a bunch of travellers to our beautiful town of Sandpoint. I like that; means more silver shields in my pocket at the end of the day. But I’m willing to give something back — after all, some of you might decide to stick around for a while. So, I have a purse of three gold sails, free to anyone who can answer three questions for me. I think that’s a marvellous deal for a fun time. Here’s how this works. I ask a question related to the town’s history, you toss the Ioun torch on your table into the air. The first to be lit has ten seconds to answer. I will be taking the torches back after. And Quink, you’re not allowed to play,” Ameiko leered at an ageing human near the door.
“Piss off,” the man growled.
“Okay, first question, and an easy one to start us with. Sandpoint’s pantheon consists of which gods?”
Trivia had always been Arlo’s favourite game. Despite his currently blurry mind, information began coursing through his head, names of deities flashing with minor details on their domains.
To the catfolk’s dismay, a blue glow lit the table next to him before he could grab his own stone. A half-elf cleared his throat quietly.
“Erastil, Shelyn, Abadar, Gozreh, and Desna all make up the Sandpoint pantheon, with a number of Green Faith worshippers offering prayers at a shrine outside the now-defunct Sandpoint Cathedral.”
“Correct!” Ameiko called, pointing at the half-elf. “Looks like we have a cleric in the house… of some sort….”
He didn’t look like any cleric Arlo had ever seen before — not that Arlo had ever been overly religious. A sapphire gown shown in the tavern’s candlelight, cut to show off the half-elf’s muscular bronze shoulders. His ears tapered in the characteristic elven style, and his topaz brown eyes offered a richness that accentuated his outfit. The more Arlo looked, the less certain he was that this man was a man of the cloth — unless he was devoted to a god of wealth. Maybe Abadar, but even Abadar’s priests wore more simple outfits.
More interestingly, a green bar sat above his head, declaring his hit points to be 12 — double the wizard’s meagre 6 HP. But none of the other tavern goers had health bars over their heads. What made this half-elf so special?
"Okay, next question.” Ameiko tore through Arlo’s train of thought before he could figure the half-elf out. “Let's try to mix things up here. The Swallowtail Festival was set up to consecrate the new cathedral. Father Zantus has been named as the new high priest. Who was the high priest before him?"
This time, Arlo got his stone up first, flashing a dull red over his calico head. The amurrun blurted out, “Father Ezakien Tobyn was the town’s former head cleric, a follower of Desna, like Father Zantus is.”
“Good answer,” Ameiko said.“We have two people on the board. Many of you should recognise the Old Light. For those of you unfamiliar with it, it’s the giant pillar sitting on the cliff at the end of Tower Street. This former lighthouse predates Sandpoint, and even Varisia itself. What was the name of the civilization that built it?”
This was too easy. He still wasn’t sure how, but Arlo remembered years studying the language of-
“Ancient Thassilon,” he said almost lazily, his stone hovering over his head. “Some believe the lighthouse was a port to guard the coastline, but some maps indicate there was much more land through the Varisian Gulf during their empire, making the purpose of the lighthouse uncertain.”
“That is partially correct. Their civilisation ran over parts of Varisia, the Hold of Belkzen, and the Land of the Linnorm Kings. What we call the Old Light was only one-”
“Yes, thank you, Quink,” Ameiko interrupted, waving the old man off. “Correct is correct. Another point for you, and only one more until you win. Are we really going to let the fun end so soon?” she taunted, eyeing the rest of the tavern.
A loud roar answered her, and Ameiko grinned.
“Then another question. Sandpoint is surrounded by goblins. These goblins are very tribal in nature, along with being pyromaniacs of the highest order. Name one of the local goblin tribes.”
A light shot up elsewhere in the tavern, a fraction of a second ahead of Arlo’s own.
“Birdcatchers,” someone said, with almost enough confidence to make Arlo question his own response.
“Wrong!” Ameiko said, pointing toward Arlo.
The wizard fumbled, caught off guard.
“Oh… um… Birdcrunchers?”
“There it is! And the catfolk just won three gold. Please be sure to keep your looting and robbery outside the town limit,” Ameiko grinned, dropping the coins onto the table beside Arlo.
The catfolk scooped them up greedily, slipping them into his purse. That nearly doubled his gold on hand — he was one poor adventurer. But what did he expect? All the scribing tools, components, and gear within the pack itself were expensive. 70 gold expensive, in fact. How he knew that was beyond Arlo, but he wasn’t in a place to question it.
In fact, how he knew anything was a mystery. Perhaps it would be wise to sit down and peruse the book at his hip.

Ability Gained: Arcane Gun: You gain Exotic Proficiency (Firearms). You gain a battered pistol or musket for free. You may cast any ranged touch, cone, line, or ray spell through your gun with a x3 critical multiplier.

The notification appeared unbidden, hovering in a blue box at chest height. The more Arlo read, the more text appeared, until his head was swimming with new abilities and details.

Ability Gained: Gunsmith: With access to a Gunsmith’s Kit, you may craft and restore firearms, create bullets, and mix black powder for all types of firearms.
Ability Gained: Mage Bullets: You may spend 1-9 mana to add an enhancement bonus to your gun equal to the mana spent. You may use that bonus to add any of the following to your weapon: Elemental Damage (Ice, Fire, or Lightning), dancing, defending, distance, ghost touch, merciful, seeking, spell storing, thundering, vicious, and wounding. This ability lasts for a number of minutes equal to the level of the sacrificed spell.
Ability Gained: School of the Gun: Due to your focus in musketry, you forsake the magic schools of Divination, Abjuration, Illusion, and Necromancy. Spells of those schools will take up double the mana per cast.
Ability (Feat) Gained: Scribe Scrolls: Once per day, you may scribe one scroll of any spell you know with one hour of focused scribing.

Arlo winced at the restrictions forced upon him — so much for a power fantasy isekai. Still, it could be much worse, he supposed. He could be stuck with a fighter class.
As for his book… Arlo pulled the heavy tome off his hip, dropping it onto the table with a thump. The moment he opened it, another blue bar appeared, filled with spells he knew.

Tier 1 Spell Gained: Abundant Ammunition: This spell replaces any ammunition taken from the target container for 1 minute per caster level.
Tier 1 Spell Gained: Expeditious Excavation: This spell instantaneously creates a pit five feet by five feet by five feet.
Tier 1 Spell Gained: Feather Fall: This spell reduces the rate at which you fall to 10 feet per second, negating any damage upon landing.
Tier 1 Spell Gained: Floating Disc: This spell conjures a concave plane of force that floats three feet above the ground. It is three feet in diameter, and can support 100 pounds of weight per caster level.
Tier 1 Spell Gained: Identify: This spell gives you a +10 bonus on [Skill: Spellcraft] checks to determine the properties of magic items. As an opposition spell, this spell requires two mana to cast.
Tier 1 Spell Gained: Mage Armour: You gain a +4 armour bonus for 1 hour per caster level
Tier 1 Spell Gained: Unseen Servant: This spell conjures a spectral servant to do basic tasks for 1 hour per caster level.

Arlo stared at the blue bar. And stared.
“What a load of shit,” he muttered, finally dismissing the spellbook. There wasn’t even a single attack spell; all his spells would likely go toward improving his gun, and even then, he didn’t have enough ammunition to actually use his gun — he’d counted barely five shots in the pouch on his hip.
Well, with his prize money secured, maybe he could buy a few more bullets. Then, Arlo could actually start his search for this mysterious spellbook. The sooner, the better — he really didn’t want to die again.
Gathering his gear, the catfolk headed outside. The noise of the festival hit him full swing, almost staggering him. Scents bubbled in his nose: rich foods, sweat, the crackle of illusion magics, the musk of goblin-
“Hey.”
Arlo jumped, his heart pounding in his chest. Fuck, someone knew what he was planning already?! He turned guiltily.
Wait, why was he guilty? He hadn’t done anything wrong! Surely being resurrected against his will by some lich... okay, yeah, that was a problem.
His panic only rose. The aiuvarin from the tavern stood before him, a stern look on his face.
“Good job,” the holy warrior said. “How did you come to know so much about Sandpoint?”
“Oh… I… uh, I’ve lived here for the last ten years,” Arlo stammered, a forged backstory coming to mind. Something about being a bookkeeper for the Scarnzi? Shit, that was damning in itself! “I pick things up rather quickly.”
“Like wizardry?” The half-elf thrust out a hand, clasping Arlo’s forearm. “I am Coradiel, paladin of the Spirit of Abandon. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance…?”
“Arlo. Arlo Silverpaw.”
The catfolk clutched Coradiel’s forearm in return. Paladin of Arshea — he looked more like a prostitute. Though wasn’t Arshea’s flock devoted to helping release certain tensions?
And he could help with another matter right now. But Arlo had to approach this delicately.
“Coradiel, I need your help.”

- - -

“I don’t see anything.”
The paladin set another barrel aside and peered into the wagon. A candle offered shadowy light, barely enough to pick out the barrels, let alone any goblins within the wagon. He was careful to keep the flame away from the barrels — Arlo was reasonably certain some of them contained black powder.
Around them, the Swallowtail Festival continued in full swing in the town square, with kids running and screaming, dogs barking, and general pandaemonium. Arlo kept an eye out for passersby, especially any guards who might be suspicious about a catfolk and a half-elf unloading a cart. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes to find anything, yet Coradiel had been working for at least five, carefully setting barrels down and flashing his candle around the darkened interior.
“May I ask how a wizard is unable to cast a light spell?” Coradiel questioned, rolling another barrel to the ground.
“For the same reason a paladin is unable to cast arcane spells,” Arlo shrugged. “I focused on other studies. Musketry, in this case.” He patted the musket in his hands. “A little black powder, some incantations-”
“I don’t need to know the specifics,” Coradiel interrupted, dragging another barrel out of the wagon. “Whose wagon is this?”
“If I knew, we’d be interrogating the owner instead of searching his wares,” Arlo pointed out. “But I smelled goblins over here; there has to be something.”
“I still don’t see- wait….”
Coradiel leapt back suddenly, unsheathing his curved sword.
“GOBLINS!”
That was all the proof Arlo needed. He hurled a candle into the wagon.
Flames scattered along tarry barrels.
And the world exploded.
A shockwave knocked Arlo back into Coradiel. The paladin spun him around. Dropping to the ground, Arlo cowered under Coradiel as debris rained down around them.
Heavy wood clattered to the ground. The music was gone, the sound of kids playing had died out.
Someone screamed.
That scream broke open the floodgates. Suddenly the entire square was filled with people running, shouting. Guards pushed their way through the chaos, angling toward Arlo and Coradiel.
“What the fuck happened?” One demanded, levelling their cudgel at the catfolk.
“Goblins in the cart,” Coradiel said, kneeling to pull a severed arm out of the wreckage. “Someone was trying to attack the festival. There might be more. Send someone to lock down the cathedral and check the area.”
“You can’t tell me-”
“Do it,” Arlo interrupted. “We’ll help. Coradiel, we’ll stand guard over the graveyard.”
“While people are at risk?” Coradiel demanded.
“Yes. The guards can help them. There has to be a point behind this attack, and the best I can think of is someone either wants to destroy Sandpoint. What better way to break a town’s spirit than to steal the corpse of their beloved head cleric?”
Coradiel stared at him.
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this. And you knew there were goblins.”
Arlo shrugged.
“I could smell the goblins,” he said. “The rest is pretty self explanatory.”
“I’m not seeing it,” Coradiel denied.
“What harm would it do just to make sure?” Arlo pointed out. “If we stop someone, we’ll be heroes. If not… well, I don’t think there are any more goblins, anyway.”
“And if the goblins are a diversion?”
“The goblins are a diversion. Whoever’s behind this wants us to look away,” Arlo argued. “Look, I’m going. You can join me if you want. I’d rather have you by my side.”
“Arshea’s tits….” Coradiel sighed, but followed Arlo toward the cemetery.

- - -

CRACK!
“That’s it,” Arlo said, lowering the smoking musket. “That’s my last ball.”
At least, it was the last ball he wished to use. His mana was gone; three casts of [Abundant Ammunition] and two uses of [Mage Bullets] had torn through it in minutes. And from now on, every shot he took would be permanent — the cartridge would not return to his bandolier.
He didn’t feel like running out of bullets.
Worse, the loss of mana had left him fatigued.
“That was… what, ten goblins? How many are there?” Coradiel asked, staring at the last fallen foe beyond the cemetery gate.
“How should I know?” Arlo demanded. “I’ve been winging this the whole time!”
“You what.”
Crap… maybe he shouldn’t have said that.
“I mean, everything I’ve done has turned out alright, right?” Arlo added quickly. “We saved Sandpoint from a goblin attack, and we’re still alive. I’d call that alright.”
A sudden scream put the lie to his words. Cursing, Arlo tracked down the source of the scream — it seemed to be coming from the west, beyond the White Deer Inn. He glanced back at the mausoleum; but really… a dead body against a living person? There was no contest.
“Let’s go!”
Loading a bullet — now he was down to two — the catfolk leapt over the graveyard gate. He sprinted toward the sounds of screaming.
A man cowered behind a barking dog, as a trio of goblins closed in. None of the combatants seemed too confident, and Arlo took quick advantage of that.
His finger feathered the trigger, and Arlo’s musket barked out a report. The ball flew through the air, punching through the head of a mangy ratlike creature. The creature’s goblin rider plummeted with a shriek. Before he could rise, Coradiel was on him with his scimitar, slashing and stabbing.
The rest of the goblins tried to flee, but the paladin would have none of it. He sprinted after them, chasing the pair down as Arlo beat a hasty retreat back toward the graveyard.
“Hey! Wait-”
He didn’t wait. The man — a nobleman by the looks of his tattered clothing — was not his concern anymore; Arlo was more concerned about keeping the crypt safe.
And about the blue flash that appeared.
[Level up! Choose one class to gain your next level in]