Beginner's Luck: 40

After a full day of waiting for his friends, Gettar began to worry. His physical training wasn't enough to distract his subconscious from sabotaging during the day. He barely kept himself busy, always finding himself walking towards the rift cube, hoping that he would time his arrival to the cube at the precise moment when his friends would return. If that wasn't enough, it seemed as though his nightmares would wake him in the precise moment needed to reach deep sleep.

To distract himself, Gettar found that practicing with his new emblem ability was enough to keep himself from becoming paralyzed with anticipation. Initially, a problem that he found was that just by using the ability made him relive his fight with the sub boss. In a twisted and simplistic way, it became therapy. As he continued testing the limits of the ability, he felt that the traumatic nature of the fight began to fade away. Instead, he found his admiration towards the sub boss, and by extension humanity, began to grow. Somehow that human had grown his ability and expertise with the weapon, and the style of combat he had utilized in his final moments was enough to make Gettar appreciate his fallen foe even more. Gettar found his ability to throw a harpoon accurately, as well as attempting different tactics emulating the human, were actually extremely difficult tasks. As he practiced throwing the harpoon from greater and greater distances, he felt himself become one with the weapon. No longer was it a tool, but slowly it was becoming an extension of each of his arms. The ability to rapidly teleport behind the harpoon quickly depleted his stamina, and he felt himself meditating to far more often than he ever thought possible. What was it that Migoene had tried to talk to him about? Resonance? He felt he barely understood the inane ramblings that his compatriot had tried to sell him on. But while he attempted to meditate, his anxiety and subconscious assaulted him.

Calming his breathing once again, he began to examine the inside workings of his mask. A long red bar ran across the top, and he began to recognize that a blue bar that often accompanied the red one, was now depleted. As he rested, he watched as the blue bar regrew at an excruciatingly slow pace. Perhaps his compatriot had been onto something, and when he returned, he was going to pay better attention to what ever advice his friend had.

If he ever came back.

Pushing himself to his feet he decided to ignore that intrusive thought and find himself something to eat.

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On the third day, he could not focus on anything but the return of his friends. Guilt of leaving them behind, as well as the growing feeling of missing out on the chance of a reward chamber, left him nervously pacing the long halls. Until finally, he left the cathedral and decided to walk to town. Having been a poor orphan his entire life, he had never really left the confines of the Cathedral. But today he felt that if he stayed in the cathedral one more day, he was going to lose his mind. Passing by the many guards, checkpoints, and forts, he marveled at the power and presence that his people now maintained. Countless Initiates with emblemless masks, waiting for their chance to perform a culling. Less numerous Warriors who had already been through their trials, marked with emblems that distinguished them from the Initiates. The rarer Stewards, all of whom had begun the path to perfecting their crafts, were adorned with armor of different colors. As Gettar looked at each Derboul within the confines of the fortress cathedral, he realized that most did not have an emblem that granted them a magical weapon. Initiates did not have weapons, as was the tradition of all those who lived the life of a soldier. But almost all of the Warriors and Stewards still walked around with their standard issue halberd.

Reflexively, Gettar reached up and touched his mask, tracing a finger down the emblem. His emblem was special; his magical weapon was unique. Normally, he would have been proud to be amongst the elite few with a magical weapon, but with his night terrors and lack of internal peace, his opinion had changed. His subconscious was convincing him that the human whom he had killed had cursed him.

When Gettar reached a civilian settlement, he felt out of place. Children ran and played in the streets, people bartered for food and tools. Smells of food being made, and the sound of livestock being shepherded by farmers all seemed intoxicating. But at the same time, he felt as if it was forbidden to him. All of this activity and interactions seemed just beyond his reach. Never having been blessed with such a life, the pull to return to the cathedral began to tug at his heart. As he turned his back on the civilians going about their lives, he wondered if there was something wrong with him- if he didn't deserve peace or a 'normal life'.

Slowly, he walked back to the cathedral that loomed above him on the stone foundation. He focused his vision on everything around him, attempting to regain some of his lost vision. It was at that precise moment of cycling through his different visions that a flicker of light blinked into his eye that had been blinded. A flash of pain that wasn't overwhelming, told him that there was still a long road to recovering that sight. Still the flash of light had been enough to bolster his hope all the way back to the cathedral.

Caving to his anxiety and superstition that he would time his reunion with his friends; he planned to walk past the rift cube on his way to his quarters. Seeing the two healers standing at attention in front of the cube, sent his good spirits plummeting. But just as he reached the healers and was about to annoy them with small talk and his many previously answered questions, a flash of energy and heat washed over them.

Migoene returned, collapsing to the ground... alone.