Liliana did not know how to approach making an alchemical way of healing what was possibly Kragen’s new pet project.
She had been in the Kragen’s employ for a while. Liliana knew with the recent departure of a few employees and some of the most talented, he would need to get more. She only referred to the other employees like herself as pet projects due to the fact that they often have some kind of effect where society as a whole looked down on them for the age-old myths surrounding the individual in question.
She looked down at a paper with prepared questions for the few faces she didn’t know.
“So, sir,” Liliana started.
“Please don’t call me sir,” the man called Logan said, trying to politely cut her off. “I work for a living.”
Liliana watched him and was a bit curious about the response. To her it seemed to be rehearsed, and caused him some discomfort in a mental capacity.
“Logan is fine,”
She nodded in acknowledgement.
“Very well, Logan, my questions may seem odd, but it will be best to treat you without causing harm.”
Logan just nodded.
“First, what are you and have you ever been cursed?”
“Excuse me?”
…
Kragen had left Logan with Liliana as he knew she liked the privacy of others when it came to getting treatment. However the succubus randomly barging into his office in a fury was not what he had expected.
“What kind of fucking monster did you bring to our door this time Kragen.” She spat. “By the gods I have seen you share your table with some questionable figures. That man takes the cake.”
Kragen leaned back against the wall. “Whatcha mean?”
“Did you know about the damn motif of death and carnage on his ribs?” she asked, still angry. “I assume you do because he is wearing your damn clothes. You know if it wasn’t for his fucking heartbeat I would have killed him myself.”
“He’s ain’t no necromancer. He didn’t even know about magic until I used it in front of him. Even after that he still probably thinks of it as some kind of parlor trick. Why are ya scared of a lad who is no more than a few decades old?”
“Two reasons actually I can’t feel an aura from him.”
“The second?”
“He survived and killed a sk?ti wolf. I can only get a new knife.”
“He used his hands.”
“Wait what?”
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“He fought them barehanded. The closest thing he used that would be a weapon was a stone.”
“Explain.”
Logan stood in front of a mirror, looking himself over. He had kept Kragen’s shirt and bandages off, letting the wounds breathe, since Liliana didn’t provide bandages.
“What has happened to me?” he asked himself.
When he and Liliana were talking he noted he had some changes in his understanding of his own body. They were faint changes so miniscule he wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t looking.
An unhelpful system window hung in front of him in between him and the mirror.
“Okay I need to ask this. How the hell do I have a video game interface? Am I an avatar now?”
The first screen disappeared and two more took its place. He looked at the first one.
Character Description
[Name] McCarthy, Logan
[Race] Human [neutral variant]
[Class] Middle
[Profession] None
“Okay, not helpful,” Logan noted, proceeding to the next screen.
Character Abilities
[Multi-lingual] Able to understand many written and spoken languages
[Magic Knowledge] Able to make magic rituals, craft of artifice and alchemical items
[Bulwark] You are harder to damage against non magical attacks, increased resistance to poisons, venoms, and acids.
“Okay, that shines some light,” Logan said, crossing his arms the best he could.
Behind him he heard a knock at the door. “Come in,” he acknowledged.
“So you must be our mysterious guest?” said a soft voice.
Logan turned his head as he looked at the newcomer.
Logan saw it was a woman. She was dressed similar to Kragen. He stood about a head shorter. Like him she had some animalistic features. Her gaze was piercing, clinical as she looked him over.
Logan smirked as he turned around fully and moved to shake her hand. “Yes, my name is Logan? What is yours?”
“Carissa, I handle the property while Kragen is indisposed.”
“Or in this case dealing with possible insubordination,” he joked, hoping he sounded like he was joking.
Carissa chuckled. “Liliana can be a bit odd, considering who we employ. Unfortunately, you frightened her,” she commented looking at his various tattoos. “A soldier of some kind? I’m going to assume some kind of damage dealing enforcer by how you stand and how you’ve looked around since I’ve walked in.”
Logan just shook his head.
“Not to mention the markings on your body that will make people think you're a necromancer, if not a cultist of some kind ” Carissa continued, pointing at a tattoo.
“You’re not entirely right, but you’re not entirely wrong either?” Logan said, breaking off Carissa before she continued with more of her observations.
Carissa frowned. Logan motioned to the stools for them to sit. They sat together looking at one another.
“First, I am in a military although I am not a soldier,” Logan started, the first part confirmed and the second part as a reassurance. “Second, I am not a necromancer. Hell, I don’t even know how to use magic.”
“How can someone of your age and profession not know how to use magic. Certainly, someone from your station must’ve had a tutor of some kind, right?”
Logan chuckled at the slight accent that slipped out of Carissa making her sound like she was from some high society.
“No, I am from a family of farmers. Besides, where I come from magic doesn’t exist with the exception of illusions and those are just sleight of hand to amaze kids.”
“No magic?” Carissa asked.
“Yup. The closest anyone has ever gotten is misdirection.”
At that moment Liliana came back into the room that was called her workshop a great deal of shades whiter.
“How are you alive?” she asked, completely ignoring Carissa sitting across from Logan.
“Charming good looks,” he replied with a smile.
