“Arm up a little more, my dearest love. There, good! Now throw!”

  Krvavy’s right arm snaps forward, along with her body, sending the homemade javelin flying through the cool air of the grotto.

  “Ya sure do learn quickly.” Beryl idly states, closely watching the small spear as it skewers into a bush slightly off to the side, its branch-like shaft wobbling as the tip bites into the soft ground. “Once ya’ve got yer aim down, Ah reckon tha’ ya can try yer ‘and at throwin’ while movin’. Not right now, o’ course, but soon enough.”

  Even without the literal skill for it, this tanned tomboy of a Wood Elf knows a thing or two about throwing javelins. Each bit of advice that she has given Krvavy, from small adjustments to the Drakling’s posture or grip to when it is best to actually release the javelin, has been useful and incredibly helpful. But more than just knowing these things... Beryl is actually surprisingly good at doing all of that herself as well. Guess that is what happens when someone has as much dexterity as she does. That said, the Elf is still better with her bow. Way better.

  “Do ya ‘ave a skill fer this yet? Or ‘as yer thrown weapon proficiency at least levelled up?”

  “No to both.” Krvavy replies after a quick check of her stat sheet.

  “Shame.” Beryl clicks her tongue in disappointment. “Well, Ah think it is time fer a break then.”

  Krvavy questioningly raises an eyebrow. “Really? I’m not even starting to get tired yet. I can keep going.”

  “Aye, ya can. But we’ve been at this fer over an hour already, so it doesn’t ‘urt ta give ya a bit o’ a breather.” The Elf replies, before a twinkle enters her eyes. “After all, Ah don’t want ta tire ya out just yet~! At least not until we get ta practice wit’ yer other spear~!”

  The barbarian just lightly shakes her head, trying to ignore the tanned tomboy’s teasing taunt.

  “Though, now tha’ we’ve got some time, ‘ow about ya ask another o’ those questions tha’ ya ‘ave?” Beryl suggests as she moves to sit on a nearby rock. “This’ll probably be yer st chance ta do so today. Unless ya want ta ask them when we’re eatin’ dinner...?”

  “No, now is good.” Krvavy replies, settling down on the ground near her Elf. After a few moments of thinking about what to ask, she opens her mouth and begins. “This is kind of about your worries earlier, I just didn’t want to interrupt you by bringing it up then. So... I don’t really have any context for levels and attributes. The numbers, I mean. What is ‘good’? What is ‘normal’? That kind of thing.”

  “Hmm...” The tanned Wood Elf thinks for a moment. “Well, the answer ta tha’ is quite complicated... Especially fer attributes, as tha’ differs rather ‘eavily per race... So Ah guess Ah’ll start wit’ the levels.”

  A coy smile pys at Beryl’s lips as she slowly stretches her arms straight above her head, very intentionally putting her petite breasts and toned belly on dispy, before continuing on as if she didn’t just tease Krvavy for no reason. “Hmm... ‘ow ta begin... Ah suppose tha’ Ah can try categorizin’ different ranges...? Yeah, tha’ll work. So, let’s say tha’ there are fiv– no six ranges.”

  Krvavy leans to the side, resting her chin on her fist. She slightly regrets asking a question that she actually wants an answer to, because now she’ll have to do her best to not get distracted by this cheeky Elf...

  “The first range’d be anyone beneath level ten. Generally speakin’, bein’ less than level ten is pretty bad. At least fer an adult, tha’ is. People level up from learnin’ and doin’ things, so ya can see ‘ow reachin’ adulthood but still being such a low level is a bit o’ a warnin’ sign.” The tanned Elf expins, pausing for a moment and tilting her head in thought. “Ya know, tha’ is probably why yer little princess ‘as such a complex about ‘erself. Even wit’ ‘er noble upbringin’ and the education she would’a ‘ad she was only, wha’, level six when ya found ‘er? Not ta be rude, but tha’ is pretty pathetic.”

  “As fer ya...” Beryl locks eyes with the Drakling, letting her lips twitch downwards just a little. “Well, Ah ‘ave no idea ‘ow ya’re such a low level. Especially wit’ yer affinities bein’ wha’ they are. Ah can only assume it has somethin’ ta do wit’ yer... unique situation?” She leaves that questioning hanging in the air, waiting for Krvavy to confirm it or not.

  The barbarian simply nods her head, as that is... close enough. It isn’t like she can give a proper expnation. Not without sounding crazy, at least. Though Beryl probably would believe her either way...

  “So, movin’ on... The second group would be those between level ten and twenty. If bein’ in the first group is bad, then bein’ in this one is alright. It isn’t anythin’ special, really. Kind o’ just the normal level fer normal people. Fer the most part. Age pys a factor too, o’ course. An older person bein’ in the lower end would’a spent most o’ their life in the first group and a younger person bein’ in the higher end will likely end up in the next group, so they’re not the most comparable...”

  Beryl briefly pauses, cocking her head as she seems to consider something. “Yer puppy, Khalia, was level seventeen when ya first ran inta ‘er, right? Ah wonder ‘ow old she actually is... She is definitely an adult, though a younger one at that. So she probably ‘ad a fair bit o’ potential. But then again, Ah believe Orcs only live fer around ‘alf a century, so she’d be more than a third o’ the way through her life by now...”

  “If age pys a bit part in these ‘groups’,” Krvavy interjects, “does that mean they’re different for each race? Or is it more of a ‘proportion through life’ kind of thing?”

  “Both.” The Elf quickly responds. “Ah did say it was complicated, aye? Though, remember, Ah’m makin’ up these groups as Ah go along, basin’ them on wha’ Ah know and my own experiences. They’re not somethin’ well-defined and widely agreed upon. Just the observations o’ an Elf maiden who ‘as travelled far and wide.”

  The tomboyish Elf takes a deep breath, brow furrowing as she tries to better order her thoughts.

  “So... while things are different fer different races, there is still a degree o’ simirity between them. Fer instance, Ah can confidently say tha’ this second group is where the average person ends up, regardless o’ race. It is just tha’ a lot o’ factors go inta it. Humans, in my experience, tend ta be on the lower end. But tha’ is mostly because so many o’ them are little more than peasants toiling away and barely makin’ a livin’. Elves tend ta take a bit longer ta mature, we’ve got twenty ta thirty years until bein’ considered an adult, but the ones who are content wit’ their lives still tend ta be on the mid ta ‘igh end. Orcs, on the other ‘and, tend ta ‘ave shorter, more rugged, lives wit’ a lot o’ fightin’ so... what Ah’m sayin’ is ya don’t see weaker Orcs ‘cause they tend ta die.”

  Krvavy finds herself nodding to pretty much every word her Elf has to say. It all makes sense so far.

  “Tha’ ‘elp? Good.” Beryl rolls her shoulders and takes another deep breath. “Okay, the next group would be those in their twenties and thirties, so roughly from level twenty ta forty. Ah suppose tha’ this is where it gets a bit mucky, as tha’ is a pretty big range o’ levels. But the individual levels aren’t as significant as the previous groups, and tha’ll only get worse from here on out...”

  Beryl stifles a groan, clearly not finding it particurly easy to expin all of this, even if she has done a fairly good job so far.

  “Anyway... the people in this third group would be, well, those wit’ some promise and potential. Bein’ ‘ere is respectable, but nothin’ ta really write ‘ome about. This group’ll get lots o’ opportunities in life, they just won’t stand out all tha’ much. Fer an example, think o’ some well-trained soldiers or professional mercenaries. They’re good, especially when compared ta normal people, but not outrageously so.”

  Beryl pauses, looking like she has something else to say, but instead she simply shakes her head and moves on.

  “As fer the fourth group, tha’d be those from the forties ta low sixties, so probably up ta level sixty-five or so? Ah feel like this’s the st group wit’ a reasonable number o’ people in it, as the next two could probably just be seen as extraordinary outliers. Tha’ said, if ya loosed an arrow inta a crowd ya probably wouldn’t ‘it anyone from this range.” The Elf shrugs a bit dismissively. “People ‘ere tend ta be somethin’ like the most elite soldiers or those from really good and renowned bloodlines who actually put some effort inta improvin’ themselves. There isn’t really much fer me ta say, just tha’ they’re strong.”

  “And Ah have even less ta say about the fifth group, which would go up ta level ninty-nine. They’d generally be seen as the best o’ the best, outside o’ legends or rare exceptions. An example would be... Hmm...” Beryl thinks for a moment. “A royal guard fer someone who is incredibly, extremely, important? A single one, maybe? Ya’d be lucky ta get a ‘andful o’ people this strong in one pce, as they tend ta go off and do their own thing.”

  The tanned tomboy’s shoulders slump slightly as she approaches the finish line, perhaps having rushed a bit to get here.

  “Alright, so tha’ leaves the sixth and final group, which Ah would say is anyone who ‘as a level in the hundreds. Ah suppose tha’ beyond figures from legends, this group’d mostly be the mages who’ve extended their lives through magic so they can continue ta obsess over their research. Not particurly common, mind ya, but there’re more people like tha’ then ya’d think...” The Wood Elf trails off, before intensely staring into Krvavy’s eyes. “Ya ‘ad best live long enough ta make it inta this st group.”

  Krvavy raises her hands in mock surrender. “I’ll try, but we have already been over this.”

  “Ah know, Ah know...” The tomboy sighs and shakes her head. “Guess it’s time fer me ta talk about the attributes. They’re even more complicated wit’ a lot more factors in py...” A faint grimace dances across her face. “So... Just ‘ow do Ah put this...? Havin’ a base o’ ten is alright fer an attribute tha’ ya don’t need. Especially if ten is the lowest one ya ‘ave, like in yer case...”

  Silence hangs in the air as the Elf trails off. A few long seconds pass on by, but just as Krvavy is considering speaking up, Beryl softly shakes her head and continues.

  “How about an example? Like...” the tanned Elf snaps her fingers together a few times, “yer girl, Thea. If all o’ ‘er Physical attributes were at least ten, then tha’ would be great. After all, she’s a noble who never really needs ta lift a finger o’ ‘er own. But she does need ‘er Social attributes ta do noble socialite things, so if those were only ten, well, tha’d be pretty bad. Ya get wha’ Ah’m trying ta say?”

  “Yeah,” Krvavy quickly nods, “but I assume that isn’t exactly the case when you get to higher levels?”

  “Aye. It’s a bit arbitrary, ta be honest, but at a certain point ‘aving just ten in an attribute could be a bit o’ a vulnerability. Fer example, someone puttin’ everythin’ inta their Physical attributes would be quite the force ta be reckoned with, but they might gloss over somethin’ important if their Insight and Perception aren’t ‘igh enough, or they might be too easily tricked if they don’t ‘ave enough Rationality and Guile, or they could be maniputed and controlled by emotional magic if their Willpower and Composure are too low, or people might think they’re nothin’ but a slobberin’ brute if they don’t ‘ave more Charisma and Allure...”

  “But,” the Elf emphasizes, holding up a single finger. “Tha’ doesn’t mean ya ‘ave ta keep all yer attributes equal. Bein’ well-rounded is good, but it also ‘as its drawbacks: if ya were in a fight wit’ someone more specialized then the odds wouldn’t be in yer favour. Assumin’ the fight leans inta their specialization...”

  Krvavy nods again, listening to each word her Elf has to say.

  This isn’t the most exciting topic, but it is still interesting enough to keep her attention on Beryl’s words over that Elf’s beautiful body. For the most part. She can’t exactly keep her eyes off this tanned tomboy’s tantalizingly toned tummy, watching how it tenses and trembles as Beryl talks...

  And that is saying nothing of how this Elf’s toned thighs squish so nicely into that rock she is sitting on, or how the pert and perky handfuls that rest atop her chest rise and fall with each breath she takes, or even the thoughtful expression filling her graceful face...

  The barbarian closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

  “Hmm... Ah suppose tha’ Ah can use myself as an example fer this.” Beryl muses, oblivious to how close the Drakling was to being truly distracted. “See, there are some attributes tha’ Ah ‘aven’t bothered ta increase since Ah was a young child. Rationality, fer instance, isn’t all tha’ useful ta me as Ah don’t rely on magic, so Ah don’t need the greater amount o’ mana, and Ah’m already smart enough. Ah’m no schor, Ah don’t need ta work my way through word or number problems. My Social attributes are also all pretty low, as Ah never really liked dealin’ wit’ people. Composure and Guile ‘ave some use in helpin’ me keep my nerves and in pickin’ things up a little quicker, but Ah don’t need them ta be very ‘igh. And then there’s Charisma and Allure, which are... a little more complicated. Fer my case, at least.”

  Now far more composed, the barbarian opens her eyes once more... only to quickly raise a brow as she waits for her Elf to continue.

  “Those two attributes are the only ones tha’ Ah have less than ten points in. Not only were they the most useless in my life, at least until Ah met ya,” the tomboyish Wood Elf adds with a gentle smile, “but Ah feel like they are the most subjective. Both attributes are purely social, and as Ah said Ah never liked dealin’ wit’ people. Charisma is generally seen as the force o’ ones character and ‘ow well ya can communicate, which means a different thing ta everyone. Ya, fer instance, can understand the intent behind my words pretty well, so why would Ah need any more? And then fer Allure, well, ya find me attractive, aye?”

  “Of course.” Krvavy replies without a moments hesitation. “I think you’re ridiculously hot, and have since I first saw you covered in soot and fully clothed.”

  Beryl’s face flushes at that bold statement. “W-well...” The Elf embarrassingly brushes some hair behind her long pointed ear and fails to hold back a smile as she tries to move past that sudden and intense compliment. “Ya see... Allure isn’t exactly wha’ makes someone ‘attractive’ ta others, though it does ‘elp. It lies more in the mannerisms and small details, but it doesn’t change other peoples’ attractions. Fer example, if Ah ‘ad ‘undreds o’ points in Allure, Ah still wouldn’t be able ta seduce a women who is only inta men. Oh, she’d definitely acknowledge tha’ Ah’d be attractive, and tha’ might change ‘ow she thinks about me, but Ah wouldn’t ‘ave any better luck gettin’ inta her bed than Ah would now.”

  “Tha’ said, Ah am tempted ta increase my Allure fer ya. Ya see– No, no, let me expin.” Beryl wags her finger at Krvavy, not letting the barbarian interrupt her. “Ya see, Ah am a bit clumsy in my attempts ta arouse ya. Not literally, as my Dexterity is too ‘igh fer tha’, but in a metaphorical sense. Just look at yer girl, Thea. She has ‘as twenty points o’ Allure, correct? Tha’ is more than double mine, and Ah see the effect it has on ya, even if ya don’t. Ah can say, fer a fact, tha’ if she ‘ad my Charisma and Allure ya would’a made her inta yer rapebait instead o’ wha’ever she is ta ya now. But ya didn’t, because there is somethin’ about tha’ girl ya just find... alluring.”

  Krvavy would like to think that her Elf is wrong about that, as it makes the barbarian feel rather shallow, but a part of her knows that Beryl is right. She would still find Thea attractive, but if she found the girl’s personality to be repulsive and the way she carries herself to be too arrogant or annoying, then Krvavy wouldn’t feel particurly bad about treating her so poorly... Which probably says a lot about the kind of person that Krvavy really is...

  “Oh, don’t feel guilty about it, my dearest love!” Beryl almost begs, snapping Krvavy out of her thoughts. “Ah think about ‘er in a much worse way! Or at least Ah did until she started acting a little bit better behaved...” The tomboyish Elf shakes her head. “Anyway... My point is tha’ those attributes are so subjective: ya enjoy ‘ow Thea acts, while I do not. So if ya find me attractive as Ah am, then just imagine ‘ow irresistible Ah’d be ta ya if Ah raised up my Allure!”

  Considering how difficult it is for Krvavy to stop herself from bending Beryl over and taking the lithe Elf right now, that is a bit of a scary thought... She wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off of her Elf, and she’d never get anything done... “I wouldn’t want you to waste your points on that...”

  Beryl smirks, almost predatorily, as she sees the flimsiness of that excuse. She opens her mouth to say something, but pauses as her eyes go wide. “Oh. OH! Ah’m sorry! Ah got a bit carried away! Ah still ‘ave ta answer yer question! Okay, okay, so... Where was Ah...?”

  Taking a deep breath, the tanned tomboy collects herself. “Ah, yes. Ah said tha’ some o’ my attributes are low because they’re useless ta me. Well, my key attributes are Dexterity and Perception, as Ah’m a ‘unter, a Ranger, so Ah need ta be agile and notice my prey. It also ‘elps tha’ Ah’m a Wood Elf and those two naturally increase as Ah level up, but tha’ is a whole other thing. Anyway, the rest o’ my attributes are useful ta me, in some way, but not ones tha’ Ah rely on. As such, Ah brought them up ta at least twenty-five so tha’ Ah could get the milestone traits.”

  “And tha’ is what Ah recommend tha’ ya do!” Beryl forcibly states, pointing at Krvavy. “Those traits are very good and Ah would love ta ‘ave one fer each attribute. But tha’ is quite the investment. Fer someone like me, tha’ is. Not fer ya though, as yer high affinities mean tha’ ya’ll just keep levelling up ferever. So Ah really think ya should make sure ta ‘ave at least twenty-five in each attribute. Tha’ said, Ah’m not sure if ya should do tha’ right now. Yer current attributes are pretty good, so ya should focus on increasin’ the ones tha’ll benefit ya the most first.”

  “Okay.” Krvavy easily agrees. She wanted to get all of the attribute traits anyway, but Beryl does have a point... If Krvavy wants to get revenge on the Duke and his damn wizard then she needs to get stronger, and wasting points on some of her less useful stats just to get a small bonus from a trait isn’t exactly the smartest thing to do... She should still get Willpower and Insight up, as her earthand blood magic depends on those, but it’d probably be wise to turn her focus back to Might and Toughness after that... Though those two do increase on their own each time she levels up...

  “Sorry ta interrupt yer thinkin’.” Beryl apologetically speaks up. “But Ah just have one st thing ta add, before we’ll ‘ave ta get back ta trainin’. Ah’ve talked a lot more than Ah intended ta, and this ‘as drawn out a bit... Sorry. Ha...heh...” The Elf nervously ughs to herself.

  “Ahem. Anyway... My st point is in what a ‘good’ amount o’ an attribute ta ‘ave differs dependin’ on yer race. Simply put, whatever increases naturally on its own each time ya level up is expected ta be ‘igher than the others. This is a pretty obvious point, but people tend ta overlook it.” Beryl shrugs her shoulders. “Fer example, fer myself those’d be Dexterity and Perception, as Ah said before. So at my level if Ah only had, say, only twenty-five o’ each... Well, Ah would be a ughingstock and a failure o’ an Elf. Though tha’ isn’t exactly possible, as Ah get two o’ each whenever Ah level up, so Ah’d have a bare minimum o’... wha’... Uh... fifty-four right now...? Not includin’ the base amount Ah would’a gotten growin’ up...”

  The Elf blinks, staring bnkly into space. “Actually, come ta think o’ it, Ah ‘ave a pretty low amount o’ Dexterity and Perception fer a Ranger... Have Ah ever even put any points inta them...?” She mutters out with a sigh, looking down at the ground. A frown slowly spreads across her face. “Guess Ah really ‘ave wasted most o’ my life so far... Ah never really knew wha’ Ah wanted ta do wit’ myself...”

  Before Krvavy can reassure the Elf, Beryl abruptly cps her hands together and moves on. “Well, tha’ is all Ah ‘ave ta say. Ah ‘ope tha’ answered yer question?”

  “Yes, that was... more than enough. Thank you.” Krvavy replies. Even though most of Beryl’s answers pretty much just boiled down to it depends, they still helped to give her a bit of perspective. Kind of sad that she is pretty under-levelled, though that isn’t much of a surprise. But then again, that extra stat point she gets each level probably bances that out...

  “Good, Ah’m gd ta ‘elp, my dearest love. Now, we really need ta get back ta throwin’ yer sharp sticks around! So get to it! Up, up!” Beryl pyfully barks out her orders.

  While Krvavy doesn’t like being bossed around one bit, there is something endearing about her Elf unwittingly acting like a drill sergeant. It is kind of cute, to be honest. Especially with how Beryl is smiling and clearly enjoying herself.

  “Don’t just sit there! Get movin’! And don’t ya forget the ones ya threw! Go get them first!”

  The Wood Elf cps her hands again, spurring Krvavy onto her feet.