The walrus-like man skated over to join the group, relief written plain across his face. A slight pot belly stretched his white polo at the midsection as he pulled a green ballcap off his bald head. "Boy howdy, that was a close one! Thanks for the assist. What's your name, son?"
"Chad. Chad Armstrong." He dismounted and reached out a hand to shake as he checked the man's class.
Hockey Coach (Lvl 3)
"Nice to meet ya, Chad. I'm Mike Davies, but everyone calls me coach." The man's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oof, you've got quite a handshake there."
"Right, whoops." Chad slackened his grip. "Still figuring out these stats and whatnot. I'm a bit stronger than I was a few hours ago."
"That's quite alright." The man squinted at Chad's arm, then up above his head. "An Arm Wrestler, huh? That explains it. You certainly look the part."
Chad couldn't help but puff his chest out in pride as the man gestured toward the recovering team. "This is our team. Well, part of it. The rest is patrollin' elsewhere."
The group of white-and-green-clad athletes offered brief greetings. They'd mostly recovered from the hectic battle, straightening and glancing about for any other approaching monsters. A few slung backpacks that they'd been carrying to the ground and pulled out water bottles or snacks. One retrieved a first aid kit and got to work on the injured player.
"So…" The arm wrestler's brow furrowed. "You guys are really a hockey team. Like, actually?"
"Of course!" Coach chuckled. "Halloween's awfully far away for us to be dressin' up in costumes, son."
"I just… The idea of a hockey team going around fighting monsters seems a little absurd, if I'm being honest."
"Well, someone's gotta do it!" One of the nearby players piped up - a brown-haired guy with sideburns. "Ain't no one else gonna protect our city."
Coach nodded and crossed his arms. "Pete's right. We need all hands on deck right now with the nonsense goin' on. We had a choice to hole up like everyone else or get out here an' fight. So we chose fightin'."
Chad shook his head. "You're are braver than I am. Going out and fighting these things with hockey sticks and random junk? That takes balls."
Another team member chimed in. "We're doing what we can. Luckily, whatever class nonsense this thing stuck us with is pretty useful."
"Is that how you guys are skating on asphalt?"
"Exactly." Coach grinned. "They also got a trait that makes slapshots work with whatever garbage we find around too. Why, just a little while ago we got some skills that helped out even more."
"Oh, yeah." Chad snapped his fingers. "I leveled up. I think I saw something about a skill there."
"You just hit level three then?" The old man nodded. "That's when we all got ours, too. You can check it out in your hologram thingamajig. Whatever that doohickey is called."
Without further ado, Chad checked his status.
Name: Chadwick Armstrong
Class: Arm Wrestler (Lvl 3)
Race: Human
Stats
STR: 18*
DEX: 10*
CON: 13*
INT: 6
WIS: 12
CHA: 13
Available Points: 3
Traits
Specialized Training (I)
Arm-ed Combat (I)
Late Bloomer (I)
Skills
N/A
Available Selections: 1
Proficiencies
Fistfighting (E)
Driving (E)
Grappling (E)
Titles
Champion Arm Wrestler
"Yup, looks like I can select one."
Someone whistled. "Wait, you jumped in against that thing as a level two? Without a single skill? And you said we had balls!"
Chad grinned. "Of course! With my winning attitude, I might as well be level ten!"
That elicited a chorus of chuckles. A moment later, Coach stroked his mustache and continued speaking. "Seems like when we get skills is pretty set. They're pretty specific to the person though. Even though my boys're all hockey players, my offense and defense got different options. Kinda seems like it takes into account what you've been doin' or somethin'."
Chad nodded. "Good to know. Mind keeping watch while I take a look real quick?"
"Not at all," Coach waved him off. "I gotta check on Reggie over there, anyway. Take yer time, we'll watch out for any other nasties."
With a nod of thanks, Chad focused on the skill section part of his status.
You have (1) skill available to select.
Please select from the following Skill options:
Stunt Driving - Living life on the edge is great until it gets you killed. This skill is meant to postpone your inevitable death by vehicular accident, or at least make it look cooler.
Provides a passive increase to durability, traction, and explosion strength of any vehicle you are currently piloting. When activated, boosts the currently piloted vehicle one foot vertically in a jump. The vehicle is still affected by gravity after the boost. Cooldown: 2 hours.
Chad stared at the skill in bewilderment. Was this because of how much he'd been driving Ol' Bessie around today? Otherwise, there was nothing in his background that could explain the skill. He was no stunt driver. Most of his biking involved just cruising down country roads.
The skill did seem tempting if only for the durability part - with how he'd been treating his bike, he couldn't imagine she was doing well. In fact, he kind of dreaded checking up on her to confirm his suspicions. But even if he loved Ol' Bessie, this didn't seem to quite fit his style. Not to mention that he wouldn't always have a vehicle on hand.
Continuing on, Chad read the next skill.
Blood Rage - Many tales tell of berserkers, warriors that grow stronger from slaying their enemies. More so than usual, anyway. This skill allows you to feel a little more like one of those.
Provides a passive +1 STR and +1 CON bonus for each enemy slain. Bonuses last for 1 minute and stack for a maximum of 10 bonuses (+10 STR and +10 CON).
Now that was more like it. Bonuses to strength and constitution? That seemed more up his alley. The skill also promised a bit of immediate usefulness in the current environment of small fry, especially if they became denser deeper in.
Though… I don't really need this for small fry, do I? Chad frowned. Though it seemed useful, the skill had some definite flaws. He needed to charge into a group of closely packed enemies to use it, for one. Something that seemed like a pretty dumb idea given that he was alone. The prospect seemed even worse when he considered using the skill against a bigger enemy.
So I'd have to go punch out a bunch of small fry and then rush over to the big guy before this ran out? That, or avoid the big guy while taking out the smaller ones? Both of those options seem pretty bad.
Last of all were the bonuses themselves. +10 strength seemed like a lot, but was it really? Unless those points were all being channeled into his arm - which he highly doubted - it wasn't really worth much at all.
As he pondered the option, he looked over the final skill in hopes that it might be better.
Adrenaline Surge - Sometimes, all you need is a little bit extra oomph. A bit more strength to lift that car off your dog or smash through that brick wall. Well, look no further.
When activated, increases strength by 50% for 5 seconds. Cooldown: 1 hour.
What he wouldn't have given for this skill a few years ago. Endless possibilities for its uses in competition flashed through his mind. Sure, he'd managed to put his challengers down through his own strength and sheer willpower, but something like this? It was a dream come true.
But he wasn't in competition. He was fighting for his life.
Which one will help me the most right now?
It didn't take long to settle on a decision. With a quick thought, he selected Adrenaline Surge. Not only did it fit him better than the Blood Surge idea of a raging musclehead – which he certainly was not - but it would also help him deal with opponents that would normally be out of his league. The short duration didn't bother him much either. It just meant he had to be smart about when to use it. Plus, Adrenaline Surge was the least situational skill on offer. It would pretty much always be useful.
Skill Selection: Adrenaline Surge.
Please confirm your selection.
As he confirmed his choice, an odd feeling washed over Chad. Knowledge about how to use the skill appeared in his head unbidden as something slotted into place. He felt the skill settle in the back of his mind somehow. It felt as natural as one of his own limbs. The sensation was a bit unsettling, to be honest.
"By the way," Coach asked as Chad closed the menu with a thought. "What're you doin' out here, son? I didn't expect to see a lone wolf like yourself out and about."
"I'm trying to find someone. He's stuck in a hotel near the center of the city."
Coach let out a low whistle. "That's gonna be a rough one. Out here we just help with the small fry, but in there? That's where the real fightin' is."
"You shoulda seen it earlier." One of the players shuddered. "Before the jets got here, the sky was full of these little imp bastards. And these snake leeches… I hate those things."
"Yeah, no kiddin'." Coach nodded sagely. "But that alligator thing was about the biggest we've seen get through. Seems like whoever's gone to the center's doin' a good job of keepin' all this in check. For now."
"Well, that's good news for me, at least." Chad stood and stretched. "Even if it sucks though, it's where I gotta go."
"More power to ya, son. Wish we could help but…" The walrus-like man shrugged. "I'm pretty certain we'd get eaten alive. Best place for us is right here, where we can actually help make a difference."
Glancing around, Chad had to agree. As excellent as these guys' teamwork was, they had struggled to take on something just a couple of levels higher than them as a whole group. Maybe things would improve as they leveled and acclimated to this new reality, but for now? He just had to hope they wouldn't get unlucky again.
With a nod, he met Coach Davies's gaze. "Thanks for all the info. Good luck out there."
"Of course, son. Same to you. Good luck finding your friend."
Bidding the group farewell, Chad stepped back toward Ol' Bessie and took a deep breath. It was time. He couldn't avoid the problem any longer. A knot of dread settled in the base of his stomach as he steeled himself. Then, he checked her over.
The walrus-like man skated over to join the group, relief written plain across his face. A slight pot belly stretched his white polo at the midsection as he pulled a green ballcap off his bald head. "Boy howdy, that was a close one! Thanks for the assist. What's your name, son?"
"Chad. Chad Armstrong." He dismounted and reached out a hand to shake as he checked the man's class.
Hockey Coach (Lvl 3)
"Nice to meet ya, Chad. I'm Mike Davies, but everyone calls me coach." The man's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oof, you've got quite a handshake there."
"Right, whoops." Chad slackened his grip. "Still figuring out these stats and whatnot. I'm a bit stronger than I was a few hours ago."
"That's quite alright." The man squinted at Chad's arm, then up above his head. "An Arm Wrestler, huh? That explains it. You certainly look the part."
Chad couldn't help but puff his chest out in pride as the man gestured toward the recovering team. "This is our team. Well, part of it. The rest is patrollin' elsewhere."
The group of white-and-green-clad athletes offered brief greetings. They'd mostly recovered from the hectic battle, straightening and glancing about for any other approaching monsters. A few slung backpacks that they'd been carrying to the ground and pulled out water bottles or snacks. One retrieved a first aid kit and got to work on the injured player.
"So…" The arm wrestler's brow furrowed. "You guys are really a hockey team. Like, actually?"
"Of course!" Coach chuckled. "Halloween's awfully far away for us to be dressin' up in costumes, son."
"I just… The idea of a hockey team going around fighting monsters seems a little absurd, if I'm being honest."
"Well, someone's gotta do it!" One of the nearby players piped up - a brown-haired guy with sideburns. "Ain't no one else gonna protect our city."
Coach nodded and crossed his arms. "Pete's right. We need all hands on deck right now with the nonsense goin' on. We had a choice to hole up like everyone else or get out here an' fight. So we chose fightin'."
Chad shook his head. "You're are braver than I am. Going out and fighting these things with hockey sticks and random junk? That takes balls."
Another team member chimed in. "We're doing what we can. Luckily, whatever class nonsense this thing stuck us with is pretty useful."
"Is that how you guys are skating on asphalt?"
"Exactly." Coach grinned. "They also got a trait that makes slapshots work with whatever garbage we find around too. Why, just a little while ago we got some skills that helped out even more."
"Oh, yeah." Chad snapped his fingers. "I leveled up. I think I saw something about a skill there."
"You just hit level three then?" The old man nodded. "That's when we all got ours, too. You can check it out in your hologram thingamajig. Whatever that doohickey is called."
Without further ado, Chad checked his status.
Name: Chadwick Armstrong
Class: Arm Wrestler (Lvl 3)
Race: Human
Stats
STR: 18*
DEX: 10*
CON: 13*
INT: 6
WIS: 12
CHA: 13
Available Points: 3
Traits
Specialized Training (I)
Arm-ed Combat (I)
Late Bloomer (I)
Skills
N/A
Available Selections: 1
Proficiencies
Fistfighting (E)
Driving (E)
Grappling (E)
Titles
Champion Arm Wrestler
"Yup, looks like I can select one."
Someone whistled. "Wait, you jumped in against that thing as a level two? Without a single skill? And you said we had balls!"
Chad grinned. "Of course! With my winning attitude, I might as well be level ten!"
That elicited a chorus of chuckles. A moment later, Coach stroked his mustache and continued speaking. "Seems like when we get skills is pretty set. They're pretty specific to the person though. Even though my boys're all hockey players, my offense and defense got different options. Kinda seems like it takes into account what you've been doin' or somethin'."
Chad nodded. "Good to know. Mind keeping watch while I take a look real quick?"
"Not at all," Coach waved him off. "I gotta check on Reggie over there, anyway. Take yer time, we'll watch out for any other nasties."
With a nod of thanks, Chad focused on the skill section part of his status.
You have (1) skill available to select.
Please select from the following Skill options:
Stunt Driving - Living life on the edge is great until it gets you killed. This skill is meant to postpone your inevitable death by vehicular accident, or at least make it look cooler.
Provides a passive increase to durability, traction, and explosion strength of any vehicle you are currently piloting. When activated, boosts the currently piloted vehicle one foot vertically in a jump. The vehicle is still affected by gravity after the boost. Cooldown: 2 hours.
Chad stared at the skill in bewilderment. Was this because of how much he'd been driving Ol' Bessie around today? Otherwise, there was nothing in his background that could explain the skill. He was no stunt driver. Most of his biking involved just cruising down country roads.
The skill did seem tempting if only for the durability part - with how he'd been treating his bike, he couldn't imagine she was doing well. In fact, he kind of dreaded checking up on her to confirm his suspicions. But even if he loved Ol' Bessie, this didn't seem to quite fit his style. Not to mention that he wouldn't always have a vehicle on hand.
Continuing on, Chad read the next skill.
Blood Rage - Many tales tell of berserkers, warriors that grow stronger from slaying their enemies. More so than usual, anyway. This skill allows you to feel a little more like one of those.
Provides a passive +1 STR and +1 CON bonus for each enemy slain. Bonuses last for 1 minute and stack for a maximum of 10 bonuses (+10 STR and +10 CON).
Now that was more like it. Bonuses to strength and constitution? That seemed more up his alley. The skill also promised a bit of immediate usefulness in the current environment of small fry, especially if they became denser deeper in.
Though… I don't really need this for small fry, do I? Chad frowned. Though it seemed useful, the skill had some definite flaws. He needed to charge into a group of closely packed enemies to use it, for one. Something that seemed like a pretty dumb idea given that he was alone. The prospect seemed even worse when he considered using the skill against a bigger enemy.
So I'd have to go punch out a bunch of small fry and then rush over to the big guy before this ran out? That, or avoid the big guy while taking out the smaller ones? Both of those options seem pretty bad.
Last of all were the bonuses themselves. +10 strength seemed like a lot, but was it really? Unless those points were all being channeled into his arm - which he highly doubted - it wasn't really worth much at all.
As he pondered the option, he looked over the final skill in hopes that it might be better.
Adrenaline Surge - Sometimes, all you need is a little bit extra oomph. A bit more strength to lift that car off your dog or smash through that brick wall. Well, look no further.
When activated, increases strength by 50% for 5 seconds. Cooldown: 1 hour.
What he wouldn't have given for this skill a few years ago. Endless possibilities for its uses in competition flashed through his mind. Sure, he'd managed to put his challengers down through his own strength and sheer willpower, but something like this? It was a dream come true.
But he wasn't in competition. He was fighting for his life.
Which one will help me the most right now?
It didn't take long to settle on a decision. With a quick thought, he selected Adrenaline Surge. Not only did it fit him better than the Blood Surge idea of a raging musclehead – which he certainly was not - but it would also help him deal with opponents that would normally be out of his league. The short duration didn't bother him much either. It just meant he had to be smart about when to use it. Plus, Adrenaline Surge was the least situational skill on offer. It would pretty much always be useful.
Skill Selection: Adrenaline Surge.
Please confirm your selection.
As he confirmed his choice, an odd feeling washed over Chad. Knowledge about how to use the skill appeared in his head unbidden as something slotted into place. He felt the skill settle in the back of his mind somehow. It felt as natural as one of his own limbs. The sensation was a bit unsettling, to be honest.
"By the way," Coach asked as Chad closed the menu with a thought. "What're you doin' out here, son? I didn't expect to see a lone wolf like yourself out and about."
"I'm trying to find someone. He's stuck in a hotel near the center of the city."
Coach let out a low whistle. "That's gonna be a rough one. Out here we just help with the small fry, but in there? That's where the real fightin' is."
"You shoulda seen it earlier." One of the players shuddered. "Before the jets got here, the sky was full of these little imp bastards. And these snake leeches… I hate those things."
"Yeah, no kiddin'." Coach nodded sagely. "But that alligator thing was about the biggest we've seen get through. Seems like whoever's gone to the center's doin' a good job of keepin' all this in check. For now."
"Well, that's good news for me, at least." Chad stood and stretched. "Even if it sucks though, it's where I gotta go."
"More power to ya, son. Wish we could help but…" The walrus-like man shrugged. "I'm pretty certain we'd get eaten alive. Best place for us is right here, where we can actually help make a difference."
Glancing around, Chad had to agree. As excellent as these guys' teamwork was, they had struggled to take on something just a couple of levels higher than them as a whole group. Maybe things would improve as they leveled and acclimated to this new reality, but for now? He just had to hope they wouldn't get unlucky again.
With a nod, he met Coach Davies's gaze. "Thanks for all the info. Good luck out there."
"Of course, son. Same to you. Good luck finding your friend."
Bidding the group farewell, Chad stepped back toward Ol' Bessie and took a deep breath. It was time. He couldn't avoid the problem any longer. A knot of dread settled in the base of his stomach as he steeled himself. Then, he checked her over.
