As Damian watched the soldiers set up the targets for his demonstration his mind couldn’t help but wander to his new weapon. Once he completed the last of the rune scripts and put the crossbow back together, it lit up with a flash of light and left in its place was a completely different weapon than what he started with. While his heart broke at the change to his hard work, it at least helped him confirm when completing the creation of an item, the system would step in evaluate the work and change the item to match accordingly. Even with his novice level, Damian poured everything he had into this project and it showed.
At first glance, the crossbow appeared to be a sleek, almost predatory piece of machinery, a stark departure from the showy, almost impractical look it had before. Crafted from what looks like blackened oak and yew bleached to look like bone. Its surface is not smooth but subtly rippled, as if carved from petrified wood that still retains a whisper of its living grain. The prod flared at the end, as if to mimic the appearance of antlers. Intricate, glowing runes of a soft, pulsing white, spiderweb across the stock and limbs, pulsating faintly with an internal, hungry light.
The automatic reloading mechanism is almost entirely internal, giving it a streamlined, menacing profile, save for the occasional glint of polished, dark steel. The bowstring, woven from the braided sinew of a wampus cat, purrs with a barely perceptible vibration, even when uncocked. A small, almost imperceptible etching of a deer's head, skeletal and ethereal, adorns the sight, its eyes twin pinpricks of the same soft glow as the runes. It feels unnervingly light in the hand, yet perfectly balanced, as if it were an extension of his own predatory intent.
While he admired the new look and feel of the crossbow a system window popped up in front of him.
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The first and third abilities he expected, but the second? That was well beyond his expectations. Damian knew that in Celtic lore deer were considered messengers from the otherworld. and some of the folklore surrounding the Hind considered it an omen of death. but even in his wildest dreams he never imagined he would get such an amazing ability. Damian ran his hand over the crossbow again as his mind returned to the present. Just in time to as Colonel Johnson approached him.
“Everything’s set up, mind explaining a bit before we start?” The Colonel asked with a raised eyebrow.
Damian nodded his head and raised his crossbow for the man to examine. “After completing the Aspirant trials, I was given the option to purchase knowledge about a variety of subjects. Other than the ritual knowledge we discussed the other day I decided to go for a more crafting oriented skill, rune crafting. It allows me to either grant or enhance abilities of items. This is a prototype and…. well, I went a bit overboard.” Damian rubbed the back of his neck in slight embarrassment.
The Colonel nodded catching on quickly. “If it works as, you believe it to, you could create more and give us an edge in this fight. Alright, son, impress me.”
Colonel Johnson waved his hand, indicating for Damian to move to the firing position. Damian stepped forward, shouldered the Nocturne Buck and took aim at the first set of targets. A bunch of posts covered in monster hides, in front of a concrete wall. Sighting on the first Damian took a breath, and depressed the trigger. In five seconds had shredded the first target, half of the second, and the wall behind them. When he finished with the last target Damian ejected the mag to check how many bolts he had left and noticed he had fired just over half of the one hundred in the drum magazine. He heard an impressed whistle from behind him as he loaded the magazine back in and turned to find a grinning Colonel Johnson staring at the carnage.
“Damn if that ain’t impressive. Spits at the rate of a submachine gun with the force of an LMG. While interesting, it is something our current guns can do. So, why should I want this?” The Colonel asked.
“Two reasons, first the bolts will do more damage than your bullets.” Damian held up a hand to forestall the man’s rebuttal, “If we just take a look at damage to structures you are correct in that it’s no different from what you are currently using. However, the same cannot be said about monsters. Bullets are made of lead and while the velocity they are shot at helps, it doesn’t change the fact that the monsters very nature make them resistant to any non-iron or silver-based weaponry. With the crossbows you will see the monsters go down quicker as their bodies react to the iron which acts as almost poison to them, but that’s nothing compared to the second reason.”
Motioning for the general to follow, Damian walked to the next position and got ready to fire. Instead of a wooden target, this time it was a living monster. It was humanoid in appearance, covered in dark orange fur. It stood at nine feet tall, had deadly looking claw on freakishly long arms and piercing, savage red eyes. The Tennessee Wild Man looked like bigfoots murderous cousin and if it wasn’t chained in place, Damian had no doubt it would be launching itself at him. Damian fired only a single bolt this time and pierced the creature in the leg, and then set down the crossbow and turned to look at the Colonel. Colonel Johnsons jaw was slack as he watched the chunk of leg around the bolt, turn black and just slough off. The creature howled in pain and rage as it crumpled to the ground.
“The second reason,” Damian began “Is to do with the necrotic toxin it imbues into each bolt. As long as the crossbows have yew wood used in their construction this shouldn’t be an issue to enchant onto any that go to your soldiers.
The Colonel closed his jaw and turned to look at Damian with fire in his eyes. “How many and how quickly can you make them? I will have manpower redirected to start making crossbows immediately.”
“Not as many as you’d like Colonel, however if you can get me a bunch of slate, as well as have someone start making engravers and carving knives with sterling silver tips and iron bodies, I can start teaching others to make runes to ramp up production.” Damian grinned at the man.
“Say no more I’ll get it done. If this works, we will owe you more than we could ever repay, son.” The Colonel clapped Damian on the shoulder.
The man was tired of losing good soldiers to the damn beasts and he’d be damned if he didn’t get these weapons in their hands as soon as he could. Then the Colonel blinked as if he just remembered something. “Right, nearly forgot. The two professors will arrive at four in the morning tomorrow. When do you want to have them meet with you to start discussing the ritual thingy?”
“Send someone to get me as soon as they get here. Every delay is another life lost that could have been saved.” Damian said.
With that Damian started to return home. On his walk back he noticed the stares from the civilians he passed. They ran the gamut of emotions from respect, to hope, to wariness. All kept their distance not wanting to impede his way, yet not willing to lose sight of one of their potential saviors. Like it or not, Damian wasn’t just another person to them anymore, he was a symbol. Proof that they could survive and triumph over the circumstances that had been thrust upon them. The weight on Damian’s shoulders had never felt heavier.
