Azure: Gunner

The effects of corruption are not limited to one’s physical form. While growing scales, horns, or tentacles may be the best-known indicators of exposure, mana corruption can cause far less obvious changes. In some cases, it can fundamentally alter Skills, Spells, or Aspects – or even grant entirely new ones.

Frequently, but not exclusively, these are tied to an underlying physical change. The best-studied example is Water Breathing, typically associated with the growth of gill-like structures along the neck or torso. Rarely, perhaps by coincidence, these organs are actually functional in and of themselves. Most times, however, even a cursory examination by a Healer will show that from a biological standpoint they are purely decorative.

For the majority of recipients, these ‘decorative’ organs provide no benefit whatsoever, and often come with significant downsides. Yet, some find themselves in possession of a Skill which enables them to perform their ‘intended’ function, typically at the cost of mana or stamina.

Scientifically, we refer to a Skill granted spontaneously by mana corruption as an ‘anomalous Skill’, while a pre-existing Skill that has been changed is a ‘corrupted Skill’. These terms are purely objective, as the subject may perceive the result of Skill corruption to be inferior or superior to the original.

- Tercia Lazarova, Level 34 Weaver of Life, A Healer’s Primer

I walked out of the administration building in a daze. Thompson had casually transferred a hundred eagles each to Tara and Jayce, and another five hundred to me for the rest of the Squad. Minus Arlo, who was getting left out and would have to pay for his own gear. The Head Instructor didn’t seem at all fazed by the enormous sum!

Well, enormous for me, anyway. It was actually less than Tara had spent on everything during our first big shopping trip. I was richer than I’d ever been in my life yet had only enough money to buy a single Spell gem. Weird…

“Fuck!” Tara cursed as we stepped out into the harsh mid-afternoon sun.

I stopped and gave her a confused look. What is she upset about?! We got so much money, for nothing!

“You had to screw it up, didn’t you Az?” she said angrily, hands on her hips. “If you hadn’t stumbled right out of the gate, we could have gotten way more!”

I felt my anger rising and glared right back at her.

“I said that you should talk to her! You were the one that insisted I deliver the message!” I pointed out. “You were the one who fucking pointed out that I never negotiate! What did you expect!?”

“More, obviously!” Tara growled, and I was about to retort when Jayce stepped between us.

“Enough, Tara,” they said coolly. “Az offered you the opportunity to lead the discussion, and you turned it down. Besides, you heard the Head Instructor. She was toying with us. A baby would sooner survive the Wastes than you’d convince her to give us an eagle more than she felt like! You had a great idea, and it worked – better than we expected, to be honest. You should be thrilled!”

Tara slowly relaxed as the cyborg’s words sunk in.

“Fine, whatever,” she huffed, and started walking towards the dining hall.

The rest of the team was waiting outside, and they’d located the veterans. Squad Excel joined us as we left the Academy. I was sure they suspected something was up, though I instructed the team to play it cool over the Comms before I transferred each of them their share of the money. Arlo wasn’t offended at not getting anything, and the rest of the team was in a great mood as we walked down the slope towards the town.

We blazed into the A-Z Emporium with wide grins. Samuel was manning the shop by himself, and was delighted to see us. I hadn't considered until then that his business must have been suffering badly with all the students gone. For the first time in my life, I was faced with the question of not what I could buy, but what I should buy. I didn’t count the first shopping trip, that had been Tara’s money after all. This was mine.

While the rest of my team and Squad Excel looked through the items on display, I marched over to Samuel. Giving the Merchant a big smile, I retrieved my new blunderbuss from my Inventory and laid it on the counter in front of him. He let out a low whistle as he picked it up, examining the weapon with a critical eye.

“An interesting piece! Dungeon loot, I assume?” he asked, and I nodded. “Hmm, very interesting. I could offer you – “

“Sorry, I don’t want to sell it,” I interrupted as politely as possible. “I want to buy ammunition for it!”

The big man blinked, taken aback for just a moment. Then he resumed his cheerful salesman’s demeanor.

“Well, Azure, I would love to help you, but as I’m sure you know this isn’t exactly a standard sized weapon!”

“Sure, but the description says it can fire almost anything! Have you seen something similar before?” I asked eagerly, only to be disappointed when he shrugged.

“I’m afraid I can’t say that I have,” he answered. “But if all you need is projectiles – without powder – I suggest you pay a visit to the Blacksmith. Stenson can surely find some scrap for you at a very reasonable price. Tell him I sent you, and he’ll treat you right, or I’ll have his hide,” he finished with a grin, and I realized with a start I would not want Samuel mad at me.

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After obtaining directions, I slipped out of the store, only to find myself trailed by Leyla. The Ice Mage quickly caught up to me, and I gave her a curious look. She looked around, waiting until we’d moved away from the store, before explaining.

“Is H’ruk dating anyone?” she asked bluntly, and my jaw dropped. I remembered her comment about the orc’s muscles when we’d been testing the effects of the Ink, but I’d thought she was just teasing. She was at least three or four inches shorter than me, and almost as slim.

A faint flush crept up her cheeks, and I realized that I was standing there staring at her in shock. I forced myself to keep walking. I quickly explained to her that I hadn’t seen H’ruk express interest in anyone, so I was pretty sure he was single. He never talked about having had an orc girlfriend back in the Clan, either.

She started to ask me more about what he liked, and I was very happy that the Blacksmith wasn’t far away. I yanked the door open and darted inside, then gasped in shock as a wave of heat and noise hit me. My mind flashed back to the blazing heat of the dungeon, but the loud ringing of a chime pulled me from my thoughts.

“Waste it, can’t you follow simple instructions?!” bellowed a voice from the back. The front of the forge was set up like a small shop, with a variety of metal goods on display, and there was a door in the back wall thrown wide open. The heat and voice were blasting out of that door like a furnace.

A man emerged from the door and closed it behind him with a bang. He was almost as muscular as H’ruk, though he stood ‘only’ about 6’6”. He was wearing a heavy leather apron and seemed unfazed by the heat. I heard Leyla make an appreciative noise, and I glared at her.

I’m gonna have to warn H’ruk about her! Obviously she only wants him for his muscles!

That would have to wait for a moment, though, because the Blacksmith was looking at us expectantly.

“What can I do for you, young Delvers?” he asked in a surprisingly smooth baritone.

While Leyla was busy swooning, I stepped forward and pulled out the blunderbuss, explaining that I was interested in finding things to shoot out of it and that Samuel suggested I come to see him. After I clarified that the gun was powered by mana, not powder, Stenson smiled and nodded.

“So you want metal balls of this diameter?” he asked, examining the massive bore of the gun.

“Some, yes, but also maybe some smaller ones,” I said, then explained how my shotgun fired a bunch of smaller pellets at once. A thoughtful look came over Stenson’s face.

“Do they need to be round?” he asked, and I paused. I’d never considered that.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, and he grinned. The big man turned, and opened the door, letting another wave of heat out. He stuck his head through the opening.

“Brat! Get out here, and bring your latest trash with you!” he shouted.

A few moments later, a younger, smaller version of the man emerged, holding a double handful of – nails? The boy, obviously related to Stenson, stumbled to a halt as he saw us, eyes wide.

“Uh, h-h-hello!” he stuttered, then flinched as Stenson cuffed him on the back of the head hard enough for his barrier to flare. “What d-do you n-need with these, Pa?” he asked, holding out his hands.

Stenson had him dump them on the counter. They were, to be generous, shitty nails. Most of them were bent one way or another, and they were different sizes.

“What do you think?” the Blacksmith asked. “I reckon I wouldn’t want to be shot with these, even as poor of an excuse for nails as they are!” he finished with a glare at the boy, who ducked his head in embarrassment.

“Well, I really don’t know… Can we try it and see what happens?” I asked, eager for any excuse to test out my new toy. And he was right, I wouldn’t want to be hit with a bunch of flying nails to the face, either.

Stenson nodded, and I picked up a small handful of the misshapen nails. With a shrug, I rested the butt of the gun on the counter and pointed it up. Then I dumped the nails in, the flared muzzle making it easy. Unsure if it was needed, but deciding to follow directions, I slid the ramrod out from its place below the muzzle, and cautiously poked it into the barrel.

A faint glow appeared, and I felt a slight resistance as the nails were pushed deep into the weapon. I withdrew the ramrod and returned it to its place with an excited grin, then realized I had no idea what I was going to shoot at. Stenson returned my grin, then beckoned us to follow him into the forge behind the shop.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that I could leave anytime, before following him into the blast wave of heat. The massive forge stood against the back wall, and the rest of the room was a mess of metal. There were partially finished projects of every imaginable type, along with plenty of raw materials.

The Blacksmith hefted a plain metal shield, about two feet in diameter, and held it up, then faced me. He was about ten feet away.

“Well?” he asked, and my brain stuttered.

“I’m not shooting you!” I objected. “I haven’t fired this thing before! Besides, it’s not a toy!”

The Blacksmith frowned. “Kid, I’m Level 27 with a ton of Endurance. You’re not going to hurt me with one shot!”

“They’re going to ricochet everywhere and make a mess!”

“Look, just trust me. If you’re not going to buy anything, fine, I’ll put my poor excuse for a son back to work! But there isn’t another smith in town, so you’ll be off shooting rocks or whatever you can scrounge up!”

“Fine, it’s your funeral,” I muttered.

I pulled my helm from my Inventory and put it on, not planning to take any chances with the ricochets even if I doubted they could pierce my barrier. Leyla, who’d dismissed her armor when we reached the town in favor of a cute sundress, hurriedly switched back as I raised the massive gun.

Without sights, I had to just look down the barrel. Easy enough with my target ten feet away and not moving, but I was going to need sights to use it in a fight. Slowly, I started channeling my mana into the weapon. To my surprise it felt like the weapon grabbed on and started pulling my mana in all by itself – a bit like when I channelled mana into my thermal regulation mod, only much more aggressive.

I wasn’t able to count my mana ticking down, but I felt something change when it reached five points of charge. The trigger, which was rock solid and immobile before, suddenly slackened a little bit. I realized that the weapon was going to drain my mana until it was fully charged or until I pulled the trigger. Not wanting to overdo my first shot, I immediately squeezed the trigger. It broke, crisp and surprisingly light. The recoil, however, was not light.

Fwomph!ping! pingpingtingpingting

“Oh shit!”

The sound of the blunderbuss was more like one of Jayce’s Spells than the bark of my shotgun. The cursing was Stenson’s son, gaping at the nails and pieces of nails all over the place. A few had even flown back to hit me, though they’d barely dented my barrier. Stenson let out a gleeful cackle as I knelt down and retrieved a few nails from the ground by my feet. They were obviously even more fucked up now than before.

I examined the shield Stenson held carefully, and discovered that it had faint scratches in the surface where nails had impacted. All over the surface – even from ten feet away, the nails had sprayed across the entire two-foot diameter of the metal.

That’s… quite a spread! I guess this thing maybe doesn’t need sights, if it just hits everything vaguely in front of it.

“Hmmph,” said Stenson, “barely scratched the surface. I was expecting more, seeing as how mean it looks.”

I glared at the big man who’d dared insult my beautiful blunderbuss.

“That,” I said archly, “was only a quarter of the maximum power!”

The Blacksmith let out a rumbling laugh. “Well then lass, you’d best grab some more nails and try again!”