Blood Legacy: New World Of Doom

[Name: Nardor Whitcoat]

[Race: Barsok (Dwarf subspecies)]

[Occupation: Builder, Weaponsmith, Magic Warrior]

[Loyalty: 75 points]

[Realm: None]

[Life Spark lvl1: 7.2]

[Soul Spark lvl1: 4.3]

[Divine Spark lvl1: 0.008]

[Talent: B]

[Rating: A 146 year old dwarf respected by his peers. He has overseen the construction of several dwarven cities and his skills as a blacksmith and warrior are not to be overlooked. Like many Barsoks of his kind, he has a weak affinity for Earth and Metal Elements.]

Ikaris didn't know if his lifetime of karma had solidified for this very moment, but this Nardor was exactly what he needed. He was by far the most competent and versatile senior villager he had summoned in two days. Only Danchun was possibly older than him.

"Welcome to Last Saint Village..."

After casting the Language Spell, he began his usual welcome speech, his confidence in speaking already better than yesterday. He was getting used to his new role as Lord.

Malia, and Ellie stood next to him, silently listening to his speech, and Ikaris had every intention of delegating this boring and repetitive task to them as soon as the village would be a little more developed and when his very presence would no longer be so important to garner the respect and sympathy of his villagers.

When he was done, he gave them something to wear and eat and then went straight to the point, shaking the dwarf's calloused hand cordially.

"Nardor, I understand that you yourself are an accomplished builder and blacksmith, as well as a skilled warrior." Ikaris praised him first to put him at ease, then in deadly earnest he said in a low voice, "I want you to supervise the construction of Last Saint Village. Is that within your capabilities?"

The old dwarf, perhaps conditioned by the subconscious loyalty instilled by Elsisn Stele, readily agreed,

"I've only built underground cities, and I'm more familiar with stone and ores than I am with wood, but if you provide the materials, that shouldn't be an issue. However, I want to stress that my hobby is forging weapons, not building cities, my Lord."

The boy got the hint. As soon as a better architect or builder came along, he would give up his place to resume his favorite trade.

"Can you fight?" Ikaris then asked, not knowing when his last fight was. "We need to get some wood and we could use an extra veteran warrior."

"No problem, as long as I can get a good axe or hammer." Nardor pounded his chest once with his fist to show his determination.

"Off we go then." Ikaris smiled and turned to the dancer, entrusting her with Anaphiel's knife. "Danchun, I entrust you with the task of butchering what's left of the black boar."

Somehow, he had a hunch that she wouldn't disappoint him despite her slender build. The former Cultivator who thought she could meditate in peace pouted sullenly, but she did not object.

Ikaris filled his backpack with enough water and Rank 4 Meat to last the day, then headed into the forest with Malia, Ezrog, Nardor, Horny and the Tartarus Enforcer. He was taking the risk of leaving the village undefended, but so far the dangers had only come from the forest. As long as the eyes of the potential enemies remained on them, they would be fine.

With the teen in charge of the team, the bison had to accept a load of supplies, becoming the group's mule. He mooed in displeasure many times, even trying to gore Ikaris once, but when the latter glared at his heart ominously, the beast shivered and obeyed meekly.

"Moooo..." (And to think I was grazing quietly by myself without bothering anyone...)

"This axe is garbage!" Nardor grumbled, echoing the bison as he inspected the axe he had found in one of the crates.

They were decent axes meant for chopping wood, but they were roughly sharpened and of substandard quality. For a master blacksmith of his standing to use such a weapon was beneath him. He had also equipped the heaviest sledgehammer he could find, but it wasn't supposed to be a weapon for fighting.

"And these clothes are too big..." The dwarf complained again.

This time his protest was legitimate. These tunics and sandals in a single model were meant for adults of about 1.75m. The sandals were adjustable, but the sole was by default size 44. Anyone who strayed too far from these standards could only suffer.

That's why no one complained when Ling, the seamstress, volunteered to alter their clothes. By the time they returned to the village, the dwarf would have a tunic that fit, but in the meantime he didn't look like much, his bearing barely above that of a tramp.

Hearing him rant, Ikaris smiled apologetically but there was nothing he could do. A moment later they entered the forest.

With Malia and Ezrog acting as guides, they quickly reached the spot where they had been ambushed the day before. The pleasant surprise was that the chestnut tree they had felled and started to hack down was still there. They had initially assumed that these lycans had attacked them for it.

As Ikaris carefully examined the area of the fight, he found several patches of dried blood. Seeing him crouch down to one of these dark red stains, Ezrog bragged loudly,

"Mwaha, that's the blood of the one I disemboweled!"

Malia rolled her eyes and explained,

"I wounded two badly, Kellam got one with his, uh, Spirit, and Ezrog wounded another. Ah, and Horny squashed three or four. Without him, it would have been hard to contain them."

"Mooo!" (See. I'm awesome and she knows it.)

"Aren't lycans supposed to be like super strong and fierce?" Ikaris asked with some doubts.

Malia nodded,

"Yes, but not these ones. They were starved, scared and had only their claws and fangs to fight with. Physically their strength rivaled Ezrog's and that's why we chose to flee before their reinforcements arrived."

"Well, let's hope we don't run into them today." Nardor commented as he twirled his axe around.

The dwarf had a point. Every minute that passed increased their risk of being attacked by these indigenous creatures, so Ikaris ordered them to get to work.

Most of the work having already been done the day before, they finished chopping the wood into transportable planks and logs in just under ten minutes, then with the ropes they had brought with them they began to strap the wood together to use the poor bison as a trailer.

To prevent Horny from making another scene, everyone loaded up as heavily as they could. The Tartarus Enforcer and Ezrog's Herculean strength surprised no one, but Ikaris grew a bit depressed when he found that Malia was almost as strong as the Oni. In fact, even the dwarf was slightly stronger than him, a shocking discovery considering his small size.

Realizing that he was the one carrying the least amount of planks of the group, the boy suddenly felt embarrassed and his mood turned morose. For the sake of comparison, the Tartarus Enforcer was more loaded than their entire group combined, the bison included.

"We're going back to the village." Ikaris sighed with a twitching face.

On the way back, they watched for the slightest movement, every rustle of leaves making them flinch, but to their delight they weren't ambushed the whole way.

As they left the forest, the boy's vertical pupils constricted when he thought he saw a bushy tail wagging in one of the bushes, but when he took a second look with his See-through Vision he found only an ordinary bush.

'Maybe I'm being paranoid.' He shrugged with a wry smile.

'No, I think we're under surveillance.' Magnus grimly confirmed, "If I'm not mistaken they've already spotted Last Saint Village. The real question is, will they have the courage to attack? We'll know very soon if they are savage beasts or civilized...'

Ikaris became even more gloomy as he listened to the Vampire. His village was not yet two days old and only had a population of 26. Their fighting force was even more miserable, limited to their current group, plus Kellam and perhaps Danchun.

'What is meant to happen will happen.' He finally repeated to himself, choosing to be fatalistic. Nothing was more futile than worrying about a future he couldn't control.

Seeing them return to the village before noon, the villagers who were lounging in the grass, sunbathing or chatting with each other, jumped to their feet.

"Welcome back, my Lord." Zedd saluted reverently with a small head bow.

Ikaris nodded, then patting Nardor's shoulder (he had to stretch out his arm fully to touch his shoulder), he said,

"I entrust the rest to you. You can order everyone except Malia and me out if you need help. However, if I learn that you have abused your authority, that privilege will be taken back.

" I shall not fail you, my Lord." The dwarf said grandly. "The wooden fence will be finished by tonight."