The bandolier I find is slick black leather, with a buckle that lays at my hip once I strap it on. Diagonally across my chest, five beautiful, bright silver, double-edged daggers, each forged from what appears to be a single piece of steel. A plain steel handle has a tiny loop at one end, and then a long slender triangle extends about the length of my hand. I draw one of my new toys. I spin it around a bit and Weapon Flair gains a level. I guess it’s like juggling, where doing it without an opponent is all the skill practice needed.

  Damn, I’m good. I roll that dagger over the back of my hand, regrasp it, hold it so the blade extends from under my fist, slash, and flip it so I’m holding it again like a steak knife.

  “Flair is not combat,” Sadie points out. “You will need to learn how to handle a new class of weapon. Both of you. That’s a slasher, not a thruster.”

  “Or,” I declare, flipping the dagger so I’m holding it by the blade between my thumb and forefinger.

  “Do not throw that thing in here,” Jes says, already flinching away.

  Maybe she’s right. But now, if I throw my javelin, I have other ways to not get killed.

  “Look at this,” Jes announces. We watch. Holds the bow against her back, over her shoulder, and in a series of quick clanks, the weapon folds up to a funky little triangle, held in place above her back slung labrys. She pulls it out, and it snaps back to a full-sized bow. This is like my collapsing spear. The system is generous about what we can carry by making things easily resized.

  “In here,” Sadie calls, pulling a box from the shelf.

  It’s curled chunks of leather. I pick one up and turn it over in my hands. Looks like someone made a sheet of notebook paper out of leather. She pulls it from my hand and slaps it to her forearm. It resizes and tightens over the back of her arm.

  “Bracers,” she defines, showing off her armor. “Nice and light, too.”

  “Flammable?” I ask.

  Sadie shakes her head. “My flames can’t ignite anything I’m wearing. You think I would be wearing a toga if I could just burn it to ashes?”

  Good point. I hadn’t thought about that at all.

  Jes and I each equip ourselves with a pair of bracers. I look to Baco.

  “You think?” I ask no one in particular. I bend down to The Brigadier and hold a curled sheet of leather to his front legs.

  Hot damn, the thing shrinks down and wraps around his leg like a leather Shrinky Dink. He’s got little pig-sized bracers to match his helmet and shoulder armor.

  Sadie also finds us each pouched belts, giving us leather hip pockets big enough to hold a book. I pour whatever is left of the crawler legs I have into my new pouch.

  “How do I look?” Jes asks. She’s found a skirt made of leather straps that go past her knees, each studded with iron rivets.

  “Very Greek,” I say. She was wearing black pants. It’s clear she runs a lot from the muscles on her calves.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “And you’ll need these,” Sadie says, tossing me some straps.

  It’s sandals. I look to my poor Air Run IIIs. They’re spattered in mud and blood, no longer the gleaming icons they once were. The treads are badly worn. The hard leather of the sandals is far more suited to running through a labyrinth. Also, my socks are gross with water and sweat and the sandals let my feet breathe. There have been complete episodes of survival shows dedicated to keeping your feet clean and dry to prevent trench foot. At least I know they’re my size. I drop my socks and sneakers in the crate for the next guy who comes along.

  We each rummage for more bits of food, munching as we go. There are several varieties of cheese, some raisins and another dried fruit I can’t identify, strips of dried salted meat and a few kinds of crackers. I toss Baco a few chunks of what appears to be beef jerky but is way too salty for me to even swallow.

  “Anyone checking the hallway to make sure we’re clear?” Jes asks.

  That’s an excellent idea, but I think we all got caught up in the excitement of our sudden shopping spree. I poke my head to the corridor.

  “All clear,” I say. “Baco.” I give the hand signal to Stay and point outside the door. He trundles past.

  “Sign language?” Jes asks.

  “It’s the satyr boar training signals,” Sadie says.

  “You should learn them,” I say.

  “I don’t think your little pet is likely to take orders from me anytime soon,” she smirks.

  “I mean so I can signal you, too.”

  “Excuse you? I’m a pig you can boss around?”

  “Not as a boar, as a teammate. It’s a few silent hand signals in case we need quick communication without being heard.”

  “And the attack patterns,” Sadie says.

  “You know the Greek alphabet?” I ask.

  “Alpha Epsilon Delta,” she nods. “Sorority.”

  “When I call a letter, the shape is our attack pattern. There. Now we have plans.”

  “That’s it? That’s your planning?”

  I really came up with the alphabet calls just to make Sadie think everything was thought through. Now I have to convince Jes that taking everything on the fly works best for us.

  “Sadie and Baco know what to do,” I indicate my bondlings. “We never really need much planning.”

  “I think they have a bond with you,” Jes grumbles. “I can’t get inside your head.”

  “He’s been inside my head,” Sadie mumbles. “It’s not fun.”

  “I think our plan is stay together,” I say. “Watch out for each other. Learn each other’s moves.”

  Jes looks at Sadie, then the wary-eyed fat blob of The Brigadier. She finally settles on me and slowly licks her bottom lip. “Yeah. Okay. We need to get used to each other and for now, form an alliance.”

  “We already have an alliance,” I declare. “We have matching bracers. It’s a uniform. We need a team name.”

  “No,” Jes announces flatly.

  “Something we call ourselves to strike fear into all who face us.”

  “No.”

  “Like a superhero team.”

  “God, no,” she whines. She turns to Sadie. “Please, stop him.”

  Sadie shrugs. “Dom does what Dom does.”

  Baco snorts a very affirmative grunt of positivity from the doorway.

  Jes looks around the small storage room. “This is more than a little suspicious, isn’t it”

  I force myself not to roll my eyes. “Meaning?”

  “I mean, just look around. This is totally unguarded gear and supplies. How many monsters have you killed? You just found your first shirt. Take a look around this room. No fight. No traps. Nothing. If this was a game, I’d be thinking this is all cursed gear or something.”

  If this was a game, this is worse. “That’s not what this is. When you’re playing a video game, right before some new section, a boss or a huge fight, there’s that room full of ammo and health orbs to make sure you didn’t go in under-geared. This is a prep room before something bad happens.”

  “I hope you’re wrong about that,” she chides.

  Baco grunts, his tail pointing straight back, a giant paint brush sticking into the room.

  I ready my spear. “I’m thinking I wasn’t wrong.”

  “A doorway is a good defensible position,” Jes explains. “Eight to one advantage. A man in a doorway can hold back eight attackers in an even fight.”

  “Why in the world would anyone know that?” I ask. It sounds like a decent fact, but nothing Sun Tzu ever said.

  “My ex was SWAT,” she replies.

  “What if they throw fire into the room?” Sadie suggests.

  Shit. What if they do?

  “Listen,” Sadie holds up her hand. There’s a sound of chatter in the hallway. “Satyr war party.”

  Ruins Of Dara

  by TiltedPanda

  What To Expect:

  - Atmospheric scenes with frequent action

  - Powerful abilities

  - Initially weak MC who must progress and grow beyond his limits

  Upload Schedule:

  - Advanced chapters available through Patreon