* * *
It must be said that by the time he returned to the house Stepan had cooled down, and his rage and thirst for revenge had reduced the degree of absurd cruelty. All the curses of gut decay, bones growing spikes into the body, bloody vomit, and unquenchable hunger that would make you literally burst in the process of gluttony, of course, it's good and cool. However, the entities that can provide an unpleasant death of this caliber, can also bite the summoner. Not to mention that stealing and, ahem, violent acts of a sexual nature don't carry the death penalty, though sometimes you'd like to. No, if he had been beaten with whips, whipped with a strapon, or given to the vilge men for use, Stepan would have turned himself inside out, but he wouldn't have left the vilge alive at all, except for very small children and teenagers.
But he didn't feel enough hatred to nail the treacherous mother and her daughter. He didn't have it. And it was simply unpleasant to imagine how a woman, whom you had recently caressed and adored, even if not entirely of your own free will, would die. But there was no forgiveness, no forgiveness at all, rather the determination to take revenge properly became even brighter, even more voluminous, and Stepan did not intend to give it up out of Christian principles. He's a shaman, what the fuck is Christianity? Only revenge, only hardcore and evil ughter in the style of Dark Overlord. There's gotta be some of those Overlords in this world, right? If not, he can take the vacant seat, build a radically bck tower in the Gothic style, gather a harem of elven women, and defy the gods. Stepan had no doubt that such bullshit had never been done in this world before.
The idea of using charms as a means of revenge had come quite obviously and quickly. He'd been thinking about it in one form or another for quite some time while he'd been walking back. After all, he should somehow use a significant part of his Status and magical knowledge, not keep its dead weight. He couldn't find a more worthy target for a test anyway. And, most importantly, no questions of morality or anything like that - the bitches themselves lifted all the restrictions from him. That's why it was decided to work with the charms very tightly, making the revenge truly symmetrical, only multiplied a hundred times.
And here began serious questions, because weak charms, yes, from a great distance, gave not quite the result he wanted. Super Spirit, a specialist in charms and correction of consciousness, was also not suitable, because his effect was one-time and even if he made a mother and daughter a dozen times to fuck with a random man who said "good morning" to them, it would not be the same. Simple charms in his execution were either too unreliable, weak, rough, or required being very close to the target, or, more often than not, several items on that list together. Again, charm magic works not so well on the gifted, albeit weak, untrained, and very insolent, and would require an additional infusion of power.
The young man thought back and forth and remembered the old adage about revenge and cold pizza, and decided to find or get a suitable tool. And, instead of immediate payback to a couple of mean bitches, he began to level with redoubled vigor, as the Korean nerds had bequeathed to earthlings. He called day and night, with breaks for lunch and toilet, and then tried to communicate with the spirits of dream realms in his dreams, with varying success. And sitting on the toilet he also, at times, looked with a spiritual gaze and thought of calling some shitspirit, just for the love of art and the memory of arguing on the Internet. The gift property and invested talent made these dialogues very easy, and the guy now understood spirits much better than people, especially locals, however, it often seemed to him a problem even before he got there.
He strengthened the guardian spirit of his cabin, weaved a dozen of his colleagues into a network of patrols for the surrounding countryside, spelled a stream nearby, and made a deal with the spirit of the forest, or rather the nearest part of it, to call the guardian to his aid once or twice in case of trouble, if it was near the cabin or not too far away. The young man made several contracts with very strong entities, among those capable of creating an air-battering ram, breaking bones and lightning from the sky in the style of old Zeus Perunovich Baalenko. Beforehand, he made deals with a couple of spirits-whisperers, which are most often chosen for love magic, and also put a whole series of dreams on Gozb, in which he served a variety of cuisine, but invariably delicious, and dreams made memorable and health-enhancing, adding to the dreamer and the spirit-healer. Let at least someone have pleasant dreams, yes.
He also set up a small shrine in the clearing where he had appeared seemingly an eternity ago, having carved a three-foot-tall idol out of an old and long fallen log that had not rotted away. He bound some of his combat contracts to this idol and the pce and often attached other spirits to the territory, which he did not take as his personal retinue. He drove away several quite dangerous predatory entities, which began to parasitize on Stepan's bor, eating the spirits who came to his call. Another three he ostentatiously restrained, and then forced into service, which for dark creatures was analogous to normal working retionships. Nothing as complicated as the source and its guardian or the curse of Knoss, but a lot of bor, interspersed with system quests.
The contents of the carved wooden chest he had found on his return home helped a lot with all of this. There was nothing really great, no valuable relics, just a lot of special stones, bones, feathers, powders, dried mushrooms (use with caution, or you could become an elf), twigs, and all sorts of things that could easily be used as billets for a spirit house, a totem, an amulet, or something simir. In a separate column were cssic ritual knives in two copies: bone and obsidian, as well as billets for rger totem idols. As, for a full-fledged small altar, they were, well, a bit small, or he would have used them first of all, instead of fiddling with all sorts of fallen logs.
The renewed arsenal and the list of contracts, new perfumes, and new jewelry on his clothes, which made him resemble a savage of the Tumba-Yumba tribe, as well as the constantly restoring reserve could not but bring results. And now, after almost a week and a half of continuous binge since his return - he had habitually refused another assignment to masturbate to the Autogoddess - the system rang with a message about the taken level, and after that came a "message" from the higher authority, giving him new knowledge. It was a minor knowledge. A summon contract, a level no weaker than the previous one and just as useless. Well, this time even his uselessness is for Stepan's benefit because he has a task for revenge given to himself personally. And for this problem such entities, which Her Milfeischestvo sends him on the contract, are quite suitable, oh how suitable.
Received: "A contract with the elder spirits: The Shroud of Touch and the Creator of Decisions".
The acquired talent is added to the overall Pyer status.
Each of the spirits was weaker than the st, but together they were comparable, if not stronger. However, they could only be summoned together. Or rather, if you could cope with it, you could summon one of them separately, but according to the contract of service, they would only come together and perform a very narrow list of tasks. Just like st time, in short, Stepan wasn't even surprised or surprised, not offended or upset. However, there was still pity for the missed opportunities, especially when understanding the techniques and nature of the Shroud of Touch. This spirit was quite exotic and not specific to any particur realm, but it worked with life only so much, especially with nerves and feelings, including pain.
One call of such an asshole for 24 hours and there will be no animals and robbers left in the forest, because he can easily bring a painful impulse to heartbreak, stop the heart, paralyze respiratory muscles, and a hundred more options for killing living creatures avaible to him, and he can kill non-living ones completely. Only masters of magic will be able to fight back, and only masters can confidently break the spirit in response, and even then with a successful specialization (or shamans, but shamans are simply out of competition in such a battle). Strong, very strong creature, and really useful in battle, in the real battle of the material world.
The second spirit resembled the Sleepwalker in some ways, but it worked with the victim anywhere, not in dreams, so it was easier to notice its actions, as well as the consequences of those actions. He could do a lot of things in combat but was no match for Shroud of Touch. He could do a good job of removing curses or restoring people's brains from senile dementia or mental trauma, which was what he specialized in, and Miss Milforator had contracted him to work a little off the beaten path. But, like st time, he would have to be summoned separately, and outside the contract and agreement, he would simply not hear Stepan's efforts, because he was too deep and too accustomed to filtering out weak appeals. To summon such a thing according to his contract and then start trying to make a new one - this is a very big problem. He will naturally get angry because the spirits to such trifles are terribly sensitive and equally terribly vindictive.
The contract is simir to the previous one, but instead of calling twenty times a year, those calls are only five, but with a cycle of one season, interrupted at the time of the change of seasons. The transfer of the right of call to blood heirs is also possible but involves additional difficulties, because it will be necessary to pcate both spirits, and they will not accept whatever kind of offering. But the terms of their contracts, oh, they made Stepan shudder at the thought that the Autogoddess was somehow watching him, though it could have been a coincidence. And if that dy had realized that she had made a mistake with the Chosen One, she would have let him know... probably. Returning to the topic - the spirits were just perfect for the revenge conceived by the Earthman, which made the young man involuntarily smile a very anticipatory smile.
Payback was close.
Spirits in general often act outside the usual ws of magic. That's why they are spirits, entities of another pne of existence, which breathe and live magic, and therefore interact with it freely and often arbitrarily, sometimes even weak entities able to do things that another magician can not. It was not easy to formute exactly what these spirits did according to the contract, the images were drawn in broad strokes, and for a couple of hours, Stepan had been conscientiously trying to figure out what they could offer him. If he didn't have an increased talent for dialog, it would have taken him a week to understand the images and transte them into a format accessible to the human brain.
In fact, the spirits connected a certain type of physical stimution and no less certain type of change of thoughts and intentions, even life pns. It is much easier to describe by example than to give a term, but if this example is still given.... For example, there is some woman, - only a dy, on men, again, spirits will work only for a separate fee and under a new contract, - which good shaman pleases with the visit of this couple. After the visit, it is only worth someone to scratch her, this dy, behind her ear, like a cat, and she immediately begins to feel more and more like a cat (with a very erotic bias), purrs, begins to caress, and so on. At first, she will still resist, or rather, verbally express her thoughts and make some movements, which in fact will not prevent scratching.
But even after the victim has been a cat and returned to normal, the situation will not improve. The same influence on decisions and life position. She will want to repeat what she has experienced, she will begin to look for a reason to be a cat again, but, on the contrary, she will not notice anything strange in her actions and decisions. You never know why she decided to rex just like that, she's an adult and an independent person, yeah. Or she will notice but resist deliberately clumsily and weakly, so as not to let the spirits achieve success in that resistance. And let her consciousness begin to return to the usual every time, but in the same way, each time not completely, to a lesser and lesser extent, until she becomes a cute cat forever, and even new scratches will only make her even more of a cat, but there is no way to return her usual thinking rest won't help.
It is not necessary to scratch behind the ear and turn into a cat. You can turn a modest nun into a tough dominatrix with a sp on the buttocks, or turn a formidable warrior into a little girl who wants to suck her daddy's lollipop by pulling her pigtail. The point is precisely the combination of physical contact of a certain kind and a gradual change in the paradigm of thinking then a partial rollback, but the connection has already occurred. In one way or another, the victim will look for a reason to bring himself to the final transformation. It's very perverse, extremely complex, and incredibly cleverly executed, but just as stupid and useless.
Moreover, for this couple, even the traces of their influence are much more noticeable and obvious. If the influence is not visible from the aura, then an examination by a healer and/or mentalist will identify the influence. Even if both of these magicians are illiterate morons. What can he say? What is happening can be easily revealed simply by behavior, changes of which, especially in the final stages of the fall, will become obvious. This, by the way, is already a reason for Stepan to ask the spirits not to be so harsh, so that the changes will go smoothly and slowly, without arousing suspicion among the rest of Ronna. Although, how much disguise do the vilgers need, who don't really like Truda anyway, if you believe her?
Summarizing all the thoughts in the earthling's head: this gift was much more suitable for a retaliatory blow to the insidious bitches who had punished him for his faith in his neighbor. Stepan did not immediately rush to the call, preferring to think a little more and even in all seriousness forced himself to consider the option of simply forgiving both of them, spit and forget. Usually, this option is used in cases when there is no strength, courage, and means for revenge, but you need to comfort yourself somehow and prove that you are not a lowly pussy, and magnanimously forgive the offender. But Stepan has all the means for revenge, and if he forgives, it is really from kindness, and not by making a noble face with full pants of shit.
Only there was still no generosity.
The rapid marathon of gaining system experience had dampened irritation, anger, and even resentment, but such things didn't go away completely. He didn't want the bitches to die and suffer, didn't even want them to suffer much, didn't wish them misery or grief, but to repay them in the same coin, multiplied by a hundred - why not? Any conscience and understanding of what he condemns this couple to, is broken by the realization of what they did: they could have agreed, they could have asked, they could have invited him to bed, and he would have jumped in, because what normal guy would refuse such a threesome with a milf mother and a modest daughter? He would have helped, given that damn tongue even at a loss to himself, because he'd been warmly welcomed in that house, welcomed with pleasant conversation and warmed his soul, stale from solitary survival, with the warmth of cheerful companionship. Instead, they chose to take him against his will (or, rather, without his will), rob him, and send him away with a distorted memory, to spit on his soul, which had been opened in pure trust.
For what is there to forgive?
For not killing him?
To be honest, at the moment of his decision, he was annoyed not by the situation, but by the fact that he had to take revenge for it. If Truda and Lashka had just drunk him with spells and sent him away without memory, he would have confined himself to the fact that he would have inflicted some crazy passion on them too, that they would have pyed a grown-up version of Mother-Daughter or just wonking for a couple of hours, and forgotten about it. And would have scored, too. They probably would have also taken his return hint and that would have been the end of it, just an exchange of banter in a magical and erotic way. But he had been robbed, offended in the best feelings, treacherously deceived his faith in man! And this he could not forgive, he did not want to force and compel himself.
Every sentient being, even in the most grievous crimes, even in the most grievous sins and vices, still has the right to leniency and can earn forgiveness.
But those who push that phrase somehow forget to say that every sentient being, who suffered from those sinners and criminals who reveled in their vices, has the right not to forgive.
* * *
Stepan personally could not have afforded to call upon such old and self-respecting entities for many more days and levels, and he would not have been able to do the call itself. But now, after receiving the agreement, he did not need to perform the ritual, to call correctly, and to spend the rarest reagents, without which these immaterial beasts would not even move a leg, let alone come to the call. Well, or they would have come to eat the insolent caller so others wouldn't have the same idea. As much as such creatures think differently, they often resemble mortals in matters of economy and reputation. As well as in questions of racketeering, fraud, cunning with the cuses of contracts, and the ability to evade the unbreakable obligations taken and ironcd assured to fulfillment.
Fortunately, he didn't need to call according to the rules. He just needed to send a signal. Then the spirits would appear on their own because all possible costs had already been covered by the System, or the Autogoddess, or her superiors, or forty-two, because how could Stepan know the answers to such questions? No, he still showed respect by conducting the summoning outside, under the moonlight, by the light of a very rge fire, on which it took a very long time to pile dead wood, and by smoking incense - bought, by the way, from the very bitches he was going to punish - even if for such strong entities these were not gifts, but a mockery. From his point of view, backed up by his knowledge of this particur pair of spirits, it was better to show respect, even if it seemed tiny against their power than to show none, though the opposite was true.
The arriving entities suppressed, crushed, and morally destroyed him by their very presence, and if it were not for the mark of the spheres if it were not for the talents and experience he already had, he could have been simply smeared, struck to the point of madness, but as it was, he only felt like a chicken standing on the train track. The train will fly higher, will fly in a blurred image over the frozen little chick, but it does not become less scary. The most frustrating thing is that the spirits themselves were not pushing and even the opposite. They tried to be as careful as possible with their VIP client, but they still pressed, simply because of the difference between a newly minted adept shaman (a full-fledged shaman worthy of being called a shaman is usually at the adept level) and these two.
The spirits were not in reality, they hovered at the very edge of manifestation, so as not to disturb the magical picture of reality and not to harm him. They looked formless and eerie, immense and all-encompassing, ancient beings, and he was a little embarrassed that such powerful inhabitants of the spheres had been summoned for such a stupid reason, but, on the other hand, it wasn't his fault, but hers. If she had hired them, she must have paid them well, right?
...ask...
It was not said, but still understood by Stepan and he sent his images in response, trying his best not to confuse them with each other so that the wish could be understood without double interpretations and as clearly as possible. His efforts were successful. He felt it, as he also felt that the spirits nonchantly accepted his task-wish, understood, realized, and gave an answer. Moreover, they made every effort avaible to them, only to perceive these human endeavors as fully as possible, sincerely being ready to break into a lump for the sake of this goal. In the case of such powerful spirits, flocking in obsequiousness, albeit within the framework of indifferently proud stay, the young shaman directly twisted from cognitive dissonance.
...it will be done...
It was not said but assured, and then both spirits not hurriedly, but without unnecessary dey shifted from almost reality to not-reality, hiding in the depths of another pne of existence, and the young man was not at all eager to follow them with spiritual perception, no. Likewise, he was not going to check - how were his two "favorite" herbalists without him? Maybe sometime ter, he would either send a watching spirit or go to Small Ronna himself, but right now he just didn't have the energy, nor the desire. There could be no doubt. They would not be able to fight off this couple. They wouldn't even be able to notice the attacks.
Stepan had his revenge, and, finally, for the first time since that night, when the shroud of alchemical oblivion had fallen, he rexed and felt a weight fall from his shoulders.
He didn't get any experience for summoning such chthonic bogeymen, or rather he did, but it was so little that he got more experience for ordinary calls. It was not surprising, because most of the work was done by the System, having previously provided a ready contract, and of his personal work was only to send the call, to prepare a fire with incense, and not to slip into an epileptic fit at the sight of the spirits.
Each call, successful and not so successful, leaves peculiar marks on the spiritual body of the shaman, and then their quantity, quality, and nature serve as a kind of additional leverage in negotiations. A CV and credit history, if you will. Some types of marks can make it difficult to work with the spirit world or some of its inhabitants, especially if the entity that put the mark has enemies. From this point of view, the property of the mark of spheres is just an additional entry in the same credit history, only more extensive, concerning all spirits and spheres at once.
And this couple did not mark Stepan, who had sent them to work, although the call itself and their very presence had an effect, raising their affinity with the spiritual world in general. And not a bad one at that, judging by his rough calcutions. Not as much as the certified fact of summoning and dialog with an elder spirit, and a strong and in two samples, not so much, not even approximately, but still good news. Such an undocumented way to cheat with summons that are useless in practice, though. This way you can summon Sleepwalker on rollback, sending it to whoever you have to, and then get this kind of intangible profit from it. Except for jokes, but if Stepan gets bottlenecked in leveling, he will definitely use this option too.
Stepan even smiled at how Munchkin-like he was thinking. It seems the system was spoiling him. He thought about it and went to bed because even with a full reserve his brief communication with the summoned shit had exhausted him so much that he had no working mood at all. Before going to bed, he would check his talents, see what he could choose, and how to invest it properly.
He thought long and zily, going through the options and even considered strengthening his meta-skill to get access to more advanced assignments since the current ones brought much less than at first, but he chose something else. The talent went into knowing the "basic fundamentals of fast calls", which complemented the existing skills and properties, especially combat calls, in a very harmonious way. The knowledge base was focused on how to make certain types of invocations or other influences extremely fast, at the expense of general skills and an additional expenditure of energy accelerating the invocations to instantaneousness. In some cases, it is much more convenient, and in others, it can simply and uncomplicatedly save a life. And without instant caste, as gamers would say, there was just a general acceleration of rituals, calls, and some elements of shamanic practice. Somewhere stronger, somewhere weaker, somewhere compensated by the price of costs, somewhere by the consumption of reserves, somewhere by the crity of execution, and somewhere by the increased consumption of rare reagents. Sometimes, if the pressure is too great, all this together and a dozen other weaknesses, but speed, speed can pay off everything. Or not, but here you will have to choose the optimal way.
And no saves, what a shame.
Stepan fell asleep pacified and restored so important for the shaman's peace of mind, only for a second distracted to assess the changes in his status with his inner eye.
Name: Stepan
Level: 5
Css: Shaman
Characteristics: (free: 0)
Talents (free): 0
Constitution: 1
Sensitivity: 5
Power: 4
Control: 1
Source: 3
Spirit: 7
Resistance: 1
Knowledge acquired: speaking and writing: Free Cities, academic Neirat, Isnd Kingdom; advanced basic shamanic practice; advanced fundamentals of spiritual dialog; wilderness hermit; basics of working with healing spirits; advanced basics of casting shamanic charms (GIFT); basic techniques of dream-inducing and dream correction (GIFT); basic practice of combat calls; basic techniques of interaction with magical sources; basic techniques of countering curses
Minor knowledge: contract with an elder spirit: Sleepwalker (GIFT); contract with the elder spirits: The Shroud of Touch and the Creator of Decisions (GIFT)
Obtained properties: blessings of health and long life; toughness of spirit; resilience of subtle bodies; small mark of spiritual spheres (GIFT)
System modifiers: peaceful development I; issuance of system assignments I (GIFT)
Special: Blessing of Liarat si Merrinal, Lady of Gifts and Giver of Gifts, loyal servant of Innes Inney: likely to grant additional talents as you level up; grant specific system quests with increased rewards; hidden effects
Well, not an elf of the eightieth level, but still good, almost like that wolf with the most powerful woolly paws!
Interlewd 2: Mother Daughters (part two)
After taking the elixir, brewed with such care as if their lives depended on it, though they did, both women y for a day and a half, dizzy and weak, getting up every now and then just to drink water. But then it all went away and they felt much better, and the first tests showed that the potion had worked properly. They could both feel the nature of the pnt, of each herb, knowing if it needed more water, more light, a drop of strength in the roots, or something like that. Potions were much easier to brew. It was as if the will of the herbalist and her daughter was being infused into the ingredients with the touch of their hands.
In the end, everything worked out for the best. The boy mage, younger than even Lashka, went away without realizing that he had been relieved of a bit of money and valuables he didn't need, the potion had had the desired effect and had done no harm, and Gozb had come to make peace with her mother, bringing a rge basket of sweet pastries as a sign of reconciliation. Truda now walked and smiled almost constantly, as if rejuvenated even by a couple of years and certainly fresher and more lively. Mother had told Lashka that the way they both felt the voice of the herbs now was essentially like the way the ever-living lords of the forests looked at the world, only weaker and without eternal life. On the contrary, now their power of gift and the power of magic will never grow, but Lashka looked at things soberly and realized that the crumbs of her skills, even with the right development, will not give much power, especially in adulthood, because the best time for learning - childhood.
Everything was going well, just fine, until one-morning Lashka woke up with some very strange feeling, as if she couldn't understand something, something important and obvious. Mother Truda was just as thoughtful all day while she was doing household chores with Lashka, every now and then adjusting the colr of her work dress. When the little things were done, they both habitually got up to the table and began sorting herbs and preparing the several concoctions ordered by the people of Ronna. Gozb again needed something for his stomach and manhood, Perdal had gas again, and little Vtorun, Oim's second son, had sprained his leg and needed a healing poultice. It was a chore that both women could do alone, and even more so together, but it was an addictive chore, fascinating in its monotonous but not too hard work in comparison.
But in a moment everything went wrong because Mother Truda began to make mistake after mistake, only her daughter's attention and increased abilities did not spoil the potions, and even the herbs seemed to have to be re-sorted ter. The woman, blushing and breathing heavily, was pulling back the fabric of her dress, which was also sweaty, through which her nipples, sticking out with two berries, were visible. Lashka pced her hand a little uncertainly on the shoulder of her mother, who had lowered her dress, addressing her with care and concern:
"What's the matter, Mother?" She was genuinely worried, though Truda's health didn't seem to be in any particur trouble. "You seem a little strange today."
The woman who had bitten her lip remained silent at first, then shook her head, and only after some inner struggle did she give in, rexing and smiling. It was a strange smile, good-natured, lost, and not cunning at all, very different from the way Truda, the herbalist who had been taught by life and overcome hardships, who had wandered the world, gained knowledge and arranged her and her then young daughter's lives properly, used to smile. Truda smiled and surrendered and spoke, leaning her hands on the table, licking her parched lips, and yet admitting what was troubling her.
"The cherries on my breasts, Lashka, I just don't know what's wrong with them, but they're like a dress. rubbing against the fabric like I'm on fire." She, who had never been shy about her body and its needs, even teasing her daughter time after time, mocking her comparative modesty, was now embarrassed herself. "And like... my head goes numb, oh, I don't feel like doing anything. Like a tavern wench who has no desire to work with her hands, only... only to pull cherries and fuck for coins with all sorts of people."
At the end of the phrase, her mother became hot again, making Lasha breathe a little more often, squeezing her legs, pressing her thighs against each other, and bending a little from the sensations. She felt the friction of her clothes against the rose, and for some reason, it felt really nice and warm at that moment, as it would if she were to please herself with her fingers. But she didn't heat herself. She was already wet. Truda's words evoked a completely unnecessary image of her mother giving honey to all kinds of men right behind the nearest barn, smiling and confusing herself with the given coppers. Such a dumb whore could not be left alone, she would have to watch over everything, to trade her, to make sure that no one offended the helpless foolish mother, did not cheat the illiterate wet-cheeked girl. From these thoughts, Lashka felt herself such a bad daughter that it became painfully pleasant and equally painfully ashamed, and the palm that had been under her dress was immediately put back - she would be a bad daughter if she dreamed of such a thing.
As if angry both at herself, the bad daughter, and at her mother, stupid and stupid, she came a little closer and caressingly ran her hands over her big girls, first over the dress, which was sweating and sticking to her body, and she pulled it a little tighter, pulling the fabric down, to which Truda in her state did not seem to pay attention at all, did not realize that her girls were now completely naked. Mother had always been proud of them, knowing full well how much the men wanted her and the vilge women envied her. She was not shy to show her riches in front of the merchants, who sold herbs and potions to her, just like any other woman. With the st thought, Lashka pressed her fingers against Truda's cherries, not hard, but palpable.
"Lashenka, what are you... oh, what are you doing, oh, oh, oh, oh!" So always calm and confident, authoritative and always in control, she blushed and twitched, but only just managed to touch Lashka's hands, blurring involuntarily from her touch. "M-m-m-m-m, I'm like, oh, I'm like, now, oh-oh, I'm like, all over me, oh, hee-hee, so, so..."
She could not speak, only helplessly and so obscenely moaning, rolling her eyes, biting her lips, and giggling softly, which made Lashka feel like a needle pricked right there, just a needle of pure love heat, squeezing her thighs so tightly that her legs trembled. She was inexorably awakening her power, which had been hidden by her modesty and suppressed by her mother's authority, provoked by how weak, silly, and submissive Truda looked now, how she swam all over if only she were to be stroked a little, not even to be jerked or pinched, but to be stroked on the cherries on her breasts. She strokes her tenderly, softly, lovingly, like a beloved daughter to her equally beloved mother, but the love is not her daughterly and not motherly.
"Lashenka, daughter, oh, what are you, hee-hee-hee, what are you, oh, I, oh, oh-oh-oh, ah!" Truda can't even speak normally anymore, only moan and submit to her own obedient daughter, who just strokes her nipples, touches them, and presses a little on the edges of the cherries, not touching the protruding and surely now very hard tips, but the previously insurmountable authority of the mother just crumbles flows down her legs along with the juices of the rose bzing with heat. "Nah... can't, think, hee-hee, oh, I can't, oh, understand... I-- I-- somehow me."
"And you don't understand my mother, you don't need to." Sweetly and venomously, like a snake, not expecting herself, Lashka said to her, feeling that she was getting wet, that the blood was rushing between her tightly pressed legs, that the moisture was soaking into the fabric tightly pressed to the slit. "You are so silly, so stupid, so sweet, so pretty."
The words are joined by slightly stronger stroking, but still not pinching, because it is forbidden for a daughter to pinch her mother, and also soft kisses, with which Lashka covers Truda's breasts and shoulders, pulling her dress lower and lower, lowering it to her waist. She obediently stands and allows everything, only moansю She does nothing, can do nothing, can't even order her in a stern tone, and it would be enough for her just a shout, Lashka wouldn't dare to disobey, but mother showed herself so weak, so obedient.
"Pretty, sweet little fool. You'd fuck with the first man who pulled up the hem, wouldn't you? You'd fuck for a handful of coppers, wouldn't you, Mommy?" With more and more poison in her voice, Lashka feels herself an amazingly bad daughter but it makes her feel so good, good and pleasant to command for the first time, to order for the first time, and to press on those cherries, to suppress the overbearing mommy lower and lower, where she will belong, where she will feel so good. "Or even worse, eh? You'd fuck for nothing. You'd pull up your dress and fuck anyone who'd pet your cherries, right? That's bad, bad, mother, you can't do that, you can't give a pretty mommy for free, you need someone to help you, someone to make them pay, right? Street girls always get help, don't they? I'll help you, huh? You don't mind, do you? You'll fuck and I'll collect, right? Fuck in the pussy, fuck in the ass, fuck tits and mouth, yes?"
She repeated time after time, being on the verge herself, not forgetting to stroke Truda's cherries, who could not speak at all, only moan and nod, agreeing, agreeing to everything, agreeing to everything that her daughter, who was caressing her tits, said, as long as her tender fingers did not falter and hot lips touched her skin. Mommy became so submissive, as soon as Lashka stroked her cherries, became so obedient and pretty, but stupid, stupid, such potions can not do, at most to help and cut herbs. But Lashka wanted to stand at the head of the table for so long, right? So the new mother, stupid and dumb, let her just help, give tools, wash dishes, and cut roots, and Lashka will work, she can now, after taking the potion. She becomes stronger and better, more skillful. And Mother? What will happen to her? Let her, indeed, maybe she'll tug up her hem for a fee? Many people want her, both in the vilge and from those passing by but she always chooses and takes it herself. She used to choose and take it herself, sometimes adding some potion if she wanted it very much, but now she is more compliant, more obedient, she will offer herself all by herself, just stroke her cherries, take off her dress from her huge, so unfairly big girls and a coin will come to the house.
Lashka literally rubs her crotch against the corner of the table, caressing herself through her wet dress, but not letting herself cum. It would be wrong, too good for the bad daughter who is now making her mother a sell-out wench. She does, and sincerely enjoys her power, the fact that now this house will finally belong to her, that she will be in charge, and her mother will be at her command to pull up the hem and give pih-peh to whom Lashka points. And if something does not agree if the mother suddenly decides to become the same Truda again, that drives her daughter to blush with a couple of phrases, then she can always stroke her cherries again and she will become obedient as she is now. She will rex again, smile a silly smile, become obedient, and will be like that all the time when the fingers of bad daughter Lashka will stroke her cherries, press, outline circles, but never pinch, only stroke, because she loves her mother despite everything, wants only to stroke her and make her feel good, nothing more. Good daughters do not pinch their mother's nipples, even if the daughter is a little bit bad!
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, oh, yes, hee-hee-hee-hee, yes!" Herbalist whispers shrilly in passion, opening her sweet mouth wide and barely sticking out her tongue, drooling on her own melons, agreeing with everything that her sweet and good daughter, who turned out to be so bad, would say to her. "Yeah!"
With a final moan, a muffled cry, the mother jerked once, twice, and settled on the floor as a helpless whore, breathing heavily and already kneading her huge breasts on her own, careful not to touch her cherries, because her daughter forbade her because only Lashka could touch her cherries, only she and those whom her daughter pointed out to her. Her dress is not even pulled up to the waist, but she is so sensual and lewd at this moment, just like a token whore! Soon, small caravans would pass through Ronna, the route, though unimportant, was still active, and she would offer her mother to some of the travelers, she would take her breasts out of her dress, she would pull up the hem, she would take the payment and count it twice, while the stupid mother would moan and fuck. The same Khrost makes all hints every time he comes here, and now let him pay if he wants not to hint, but to squeeze the working cow-mammy's udders!
At first, probably, it is not worth offering the mother to the vilgers, the rumors will quickly spread, but in time, when there will be no sense in hiding it, oh, so many men will want to try it and Lashka will take payment from all of them. Herself, instead of the mother, because if she from a couple of touches to cherries all dumb then there is no way to do without Lashka's help. And so that no questions would be asked, Lashka would say that mother had inhaled some herbs and now smiled all the time, became stupid and lustful as the cat was in heat, and she, Lashka, needed money to support her mother, so why not in this way?
Unable to bear the pressure, Lashka sat on the floor next to her mother, pulled up the hem to her waist, and greedily rubbed her pussy with her fingers. At the same time slipping her fingers into herself, first, second, third, rubbing the bud with her thumb, and now she was on the very edge, almost already overstepping it, but then she abruptly moved her hands away and grabbed the table leg and the dropped rolling pin, cutting off the pleasure for herself, not letting her body, the disobedient and bzing body, reach the end. No, no, it is impossible, it is impossible, she is pnning to sell her mother, to sell for money the holes of Truda, who taught her everything, brought her up, and protected her - she is a bad, very bad daughter. And only good daughters rub the flower until it becomes good, not her because Lashka is a bad daughter.
"Get up, Mommy, we need to have a serious talk." Tucking in her dress and barely holding back a groan and tears from the almost achieved and so desired, voluntarily cut short at the st moment, she walks over to Trude smiling a stupid smile, lifting her to her feet. "Will you listen to me now, will you listen to your bad daughter?"
"Yes, daughter." She smiles, not even trying to tuck her big melons, her trusty girl, huge dumb slut tits, back into her dress. "Whatever you say, daughter."
So much Lasha wanted to pull up her dress again, so much she just wanted to press the bud a little harder, to rub herself right through the fabric, just a little and she would burst into fmes, spill out all her accumuted passion and desire. she dreamed of spreading her legs, naked flower and order to lick, knowing that obedient mommy will do everything. But no, she would not cum, no, no, she would not cum. She will rub, she will caress, she will touch, she will breathe hard and jerk her pelvis, she will dream and desire, but she will not cum. She will look, she will desire, she will dream, she will touch herself and stop at the very edge without going over it, day after day, season after season, year after year, always, for the rest of her days, she will desire, but she will not stop being a bad daughter and therefore she will not cum.
She'll never cum.
Never.
Interlewd End
Days went by, repced by nights, and the rhythm of sleep of a practicing shaman quickly became completely unpredictable, because night and daytime calls had long since become a habit. In spiritual vision, the difference between day and night is not so significant. Some of the contracts had to be renewed, and some of them were canceled by the spirits themselves, who simply got tired of waiting, one of the spirits guarding the approaches to the gatehouse betrayed the shaman, preferring to run away with the power and offerings given to him, and also ate a couple of weaker spirits, having refueled for the road. This is another reason why normal shamans prefer not to get more contracts, but to nurture them, to make them as stable and clear as possible, and also the reason why spirit casters cling to all kinds of proven performers, with whom you can work and do not doubt the outcome.
Thus, Stepan had to spend a day and a half to summon a hound spirit specializing in tracking down and eating other spirits, then negotiate with it, sending it after the fugitive scoundrel. Such things are not necessary, many shamans who don't know how to call such spirits or don't know the right calls to them don't bother looking for "rogues" at all, but it's very useful for the reputation. And since the system has provided him with the perfect pumping within the existing knowledge, it is necessary to behave, if possible, exempry. Especially if the system was generous on the task, just with the punishment of the escaped and reted, and, for variety's sake, the reward there was quite normal, including facilitating dialogues with tracking entities.
The hound spirit was invisible in the material world because it did not want to show itself in the material world in spiritual perception it looked like a very thin and bony bogeyman, in which one could only remotely recognize the features of a dog, returned on the third day, holding in its mouth scraps of the st sufferings of the one it had been sent for. Stepan carefully put these shreds into the carved rge idol, not only nourishing the spiritual anchor and all those attached to it but also hinting to the others a scam without consequences for the one who threw it does not pass. A small hint, a very tiny hint, but it is such crumbs form the monolithic foundation of a reputation, no matter among the mortal world or the realm of spirits.
The systematic work on himself brought quite real results. Little by little, the young man filled the scale of experience and very quickly stepped on the eighth step. The gift certificate from the Autogoddess again pleased her with her voice, which still made nerves twitch all the way to the spine (and to the involuntary tightness in his pants), as well as the meta-skill "issuing system assignments II", which, it must be admitted, really eased the leveling, because the tasks were now given more complex and just interesting, but the reward for them increased too. He used his free talent to develop his call practice to the third rank, making it "advanced call practice", but also hitting the characteristic limit for further upgrading.
The new reinforcement harmoniously interacted with the rest of the talents, starting from the vagabond, continuing with the dreamer, or even love charms. The arsenal of means and ways of communicating with spirits, the list of known rituals, and the peculiarities of specific spirits or their types were significantly expanded. Call practice was, in its essence, a universal skill, allowing you to do everything a shaman can do, but not at the deep level of understanding. With this knowledge, one could survive as a professional hermit, cast a spell, get into a dream, summon battle spirits, and accelerate the summoning at the expense of additional forces - all this can be done, and not so badly, especially at the third rank of knowledge. But only a specific talent, embodied by the absorbed knowledge allows you to do these things not just acceptably or even not badly, but really well, close to the ideal for the specified in the talent and your level.
Testing new knowledge and contracting with more powerful entities brought experience and improved tasks, like summoning five thunder spirits and then using them to precisely target a predetermined target. Experience gains, a slight increase in affinity with certain spheres or types of spirits, and a few material rewards other than the chest itself. The material rewards were an amulet-fang on a string, which could become an anchor for a very strong companion, but only air-thunder, as well as a small ratchet in the form of a ball with the size of a tennis ball, inside which there were fifty small stones.
Each pebble is an anchor for weak, but full-fed and fattened spirits, sleeping until the time. When activated, this ratchet is better to throw away, because the spirits will come out and immediately start looking for something to eat. Considering their dark orientation and predatory pack nature, those who are nearby are guaranteed to be hurt, especially if unprotected. The first full-fledged combat amulet at Stepan's disposal, and what a great amulet and you can't use it. Fighting ordinary dangers with it was like blowing up mosquitoes with a grenade, and with yourself in the same room, and this sample of shamanic combat technologies was disposable.
Other tasks offered much more impressive rewards, but all these rewards had the very AutoGod specificity, for which he wanted to ugh like a horse and a little pony, or simply twirl his finger at his temple, or shout threateningly to the heavens about what he was being held for. Out of all three options Stepan chose ignoring and silently mentally pressing the refusal button, even if there was no such button. It felt a little ridiculous to refuse a chance that any normal gifted person of his level would grasp with his teeth, but on the other hand it was the opposite. No, how else could he react, if the system seriously suggested the following:
System assignment received (small): upon accepting the assignment, silk women's panties in the favorite style of Liarat si Merrinal, the Lady of Gifts and the Giver of Gifts, loyal servant of Innes Inney, will be teleported in front of you. Within an hour, you must pour out your seed six times by wrapping the issued item around your member, without removing the cloth from the beginning to the end of the self-satisfaction process.
Reward: one-third of the experience bar of the current level; if successful, the panties are transformed into a self-cleaning artifact of the protective type, corresponding to the master's level of manufacture by a profile specialist; for the protective artifact to work, it will need to be regurly fed with the user's spewed semen; to activate the protective mode, the artifact must be worn on the face.
The young man reread the offer several times, then reread it twice as many times, didn't believe it. He went to get a drink of water, and only then started ughing, ughing, and swearing. Greed fought with pride for a while, but common sense and the understanding that with such a protective artifact, no matter how cool it was, Stepan would definitely go down in the history of this world. And to be known as a complete pervert not only for his neighbors on the floor but for the whole world at once? No, it's already too much even for the flexible moral principles of an earthling. Indeed, the properties of the promised artifact, which in its essence corresponds to the master level, and not to the "simple" skill, were shown by the certificate, and these functions were wow-how much. There is a powerful mental amulet, protection from direct physical damage, elemental countermeasures, and the ability to directly feed the reserve from enemy charms and even the function of built-in healing. Indeed, an artifact worthy of any master, if he does not care about reputation.
In short, Stepan activated the refusal of the assignment with slight regret.
The ninth level was taken closer to the fall when the rains became frequent and the curing of meat was forced to stop due to weather conditions. On such days he got into the habit of calling in the rain, warming himself with his magic and trying to call to the winds and clouds, to the raindrops and rustling leaves. Sometimes it worked, sometimes they even answered, sometimes it didn't give him a headache afterward. Gaining experience was slowing down, individual tasks were becoming more and more important, and not just at the expense of experience - the drop-by-drop increase in affinity with the spheres, as well as the general increase in skill, was starting to have an effect. Nevertheless, despite the slowdown, Stepan did not feel negative impressions from the slowdown: he realized that he was growing at an obscenely fast pace.
Yes, a couple of bloody fights with serious opponents would probably only take a couple hours, and could have given even more experience... but it could also end the game early. At the same time, leisurely leveling was demanding to work schedule, willingness to work day and night, and also required a certain amount of diligence and willingness to wait, but the result was undeniable. From a mere gifted to full-fledged shamans, solid adepts of magic, and a level closer to the middle than to the novice colleagues in rank, and in less than one season? He was sure that if any of the locals found out about this way of his self-development, he would turn greener than goblins from envy, and goblins and orcs would turn bck, and drow and negroes would colpse and divide by zero. Yes, the envy would be terrible, so terrible that he, Stepan, would be a prisoner of some enterprising magician, who would be tied up and studied in every possible way in an attempt to transpnt the same System to himself.
In principle, at higher levels, if you believe the help, among the meta-skills will appear and "group creation", where the joined will open the ability to increase the level, but so far he is not even able to touch this option with the cursor (figuratively speaking, not literally). That's why he's not in a hurry to waste his energy on mortal risk - reasonably believing that he will find such a risk in this fantasy world - and he doesn't throw talents into meta-skills. Although, he would like to increase the peaceful leveling.
Since the generous divine milf did not grant him anything for the ninth level, he spent his only talent on improving his martial call, developing it into "advanced basic practice of combat calls". Intuitively realizing that he would either not survive long away from society, or would simply start to go ballistic outside the spiritual pne, becoming a textbook powerful and mysterious crazy hermit, Stepan prepared for a long journey, a change of residence, and an attempt to find himself in the local society. And for this, you need to be able to stand up for yourself, because if you don't, you will very quickly cease to be the owner of your values and even your own life.
Contracts with battle spirits were made slowly, but he had an arsenal for every occasion. Especially those who would constantly be around, bound to the anchor houses and ready to appear at a speed comparable to the speed of activation of cssic battle spells. He also picked up the defense against arrows, bdes, direct magic, and even curses, and did not forget about the possibility of healing, ensuring a peaceful sleep or scouting. Trying to pick up anything that could be picked up. From which the houses of spirits became frankly messed up. He had to remake them into one rge neckce of stones and shells and a pair of homemade bracelets of the same material and beautiful bck and white rosary beads, where bck and white color alternated mosaic. He wove a pair of falcon feathers into his hair, one of which was passively searching for impurities in his food - thanks to Lashka and Truda for their lesson - and the other could stop a sudden strike even without direct control. He was in no hurry to put on another feather, an owl feather that gave him night vision, silent footsteps, and the ability to pass through simple magical arms. The spirit sitting in the feather was very peculiar. Such an amulet could only be used by a trained individual, preferably a gifted shaman, because such an almost possession, or rather, a partial pnting of the spirit in the recipient's thin body, would not cripple him but would leave him without strength for weeks. It was a kind of reinsurance, in case he had to py Bald Number Forty-Seven, or something like that.
The tenth level was approaching, but the st fifth of the scale was taken frankly slowly, which did not surprise the guy because this level would be a jubilee, it would allow you to spend a free point of characteristics, add a unit to Spirit due to the shamanic css and, as the reference now said, among the talents to choose from will be really interesting properties, which at levels, not multiple of ten, you will not find. Exactly properties, not knowledge, but they will be from those that are called generic innate giftedness and to get them your many times "great" grandparents will have to turn inside out or turn someone else inside out.
As had become a tradition for him, the level increase had happened without special effects and almost routinely. He had just finished a very routine ritual and had gone straight to the gatehouse to lie down and rest. The added spirit unit was not shocking to the body, but was also very sensitive, forcing him to lie down temporarily. What particurly pleased the young hitman was the foresight of the system: the characteristic increased not clearly at the moment of level increase, which could distract from the call and make him make a mistake, but afterward, when the danger had passed. A little ter, when the first impressions had subsided, the familiar voice of the titty Goddess who had chosen the wrong Stepan spoke, revealing a new free talent.
Here it screwed up much stronger, even if the talent turned out to be a property, not knowledge, but still, it covered him thoroughly, the aura was humming, and the guy was wrapped in a thick yer of a web, thin, but amazingly strong. The aura was being rebuilt when a new and previously absent property began to be woven into it, at the same time giving an understanding of what this property was. At first mentally cursing the Autogoddess for both known worlds and the whole Universe, Stepan stopped talking and even gave something simir to the same mental "thank you", recognizing the importance and necessity of such a gift.
The property was called "spiritual shroud of the highest auric concealment." It was a perfect example of a masking arcane, sewn into the very essence of the magic technique. It was indeed like a Shroud, but not material and not even entirely magical or spiritual, but existing on a level close to the soul as such. When trying to understand how this thing works in general and what level is needed to give such a thing, the base of system knowledge of the earthling gave an error and asked not to bother. To create such an arcanum for oneself, it is not even the level of magisters, but someone higher, maybe even by more than one rank, but there are no consultants, and it is scary to ask.
The purpose of the Shroud, which was literally sewn on top of the soul structure from the weave of the finest spiritual threads, was to hide underneath certain parts of the subtle bodies. Shroud could completely hide all traces of auric shells, allowing you to not leave even the slightest imprint or spiritual trace, on which you can be traced or take samples. In this state, the user can only be spotted with the eyes or by other physical means, such as smell, heartbeat, or boot prints left in the dust. Any other manipution of the gift at this level of disguise would be impossible to use, they would instantly tear the shroud and give away the user.
The second of the three types of activation turned Stepan into a commoner, as ungifted as a typical vilger from Small Ronna, otherwise not affecting the aura, per se. That is, Stepan will still be recognized by, well, Stepan's spirits or signal circles, for example, but Stepan will appear to be an ordinary person. Ungifted. In this mode it will not be possible to use the gift, but, in theory, all sorts of small things will pass normally, and the spirits called and directed beforehand can be controlled without attracting attention. If you need to sneak up on someone in a crowd and hit them at point-bnk range with all the power of a shaman, it's the perfect option.
The third of the modes, if we do not count the complete disabling of the shroud in general, made an earthling a simple untrained gifted person with the smallest amount of magic in subtle bodies. The kind that even in childhood it makes little sense to train unless you initially prepare him to be a handy assistant and a privileged servant. And a formidable adept of shamanism in the eyes of almost anyone will be just a weak sorcerer, who in battle will be beaten in the face by just a fairly rge vilge man. This mode is the only one of the three that could be adjusted, increasing the limit of the gift, so that the appearance of the aura does not change when taking a level, for example. So that you could come to a city, get a job there, and not worry that your colleagues would notice that the average shaman had become three times stronger in a couple of years.
Well, and the fourth option - remove the Shroud from the aura and temporarily roll it figuratively speaking in a lump and hide in the depths of thin bodies, so that the shroud itself is not found even after the most detailed inspection. Honestly, Stepan and the Autogoddess had a very difficult retionship (the existence of which the tter, to the deep happiness of the young man, does not know at all) but for such a royal and useful gift, he simply could not react otherwise than with warmth in the soul.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but thank you, Big MILF, you're a real help." He said, still reeling from the increase in level and the morphing of his thin body. Only then did he realize that the gods could hear prayers if they wanted to, so he immediately corrected himself. "Anyway, don't mind me, I'll just sit here quietly... Fuck, I'm so fucking brain-dead."
He did nothing but enjoy the warm, clean, magically washed and dried bed for the rest of the evening, especially when the worst of the downpour, comparable only to the one he'd had on the way back from Small Ronna, was once again falling outside his dwelling. It was still a good idea to heat the pce, to get a couple of spirits to warm the air to a comfortable temperature and keep the humidity down. He didn't want to do anything, he just wanted to lie there and rest, too tired from the pumping marathon and the desire to get to level ten as soon as possible. And now, having reached the desire, the fervor was not lost, but the strength was already showing the bottom, and the young man saw no reason to test the depth of his persistence if he could afford to take a short rest.
He didn't want to choose his talent either, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he had to gather his balls in his fist and deal with his own direct reinforcement. So, the tenth level and one special talent point. It can be spent on the same special properties, which are offered only at multiples of ten levels. And one such property had already been given to him, and it seemed to be from a higher tier than even those offered now. Because the shroud acted noticeably rger than the proposed options, and in addition to the above masking properties, increased the Sensitivity and Control by one unit at once. Although, just here not only does the Shroud help, but most of the other ten-level properties also increase the characteristics.
Yes, it was very noticeable, it was just that he was all lost and not directly engaged in shamanism, otherwise he would have noticed very quickly, especially the increased Control, one of his worst characteristics. The shaman didn't really need it, so the guy didn't get upset, walking around with a unit and successfully call in the process, but now this double was clearly showing the difference. It became easier to communicate with spirits and transmit messages. It became easier to hold the leash of control or feed the spirits. It became much easier to parallelize the flows of magic on different tasks. The increased intensity was also extremely useful, as was the increased spirit from the milestone, but it was the Control that had the greatest impact, simply because it had been gging too far behind before.
Most of the proposed properties also increased the characteristics by a unit or two, but, unlike the more usual for non-multiple levels variants, here they had almost no side effects. And they were responsible for shamanic work in general, not for working with any particur spheres. For example, the analog of the powerful ancestral arcana, which allowed you to leave the body without fear that it will try to occupy a predatory spirit or that these same predatory spirits (except for the very old and powerful scarecrows) will attack you, out of the body staying, not having time to escape back into that body. Bonuses to resistance and control are also included - one each.
It would seem not so useful thing, but sitting in the depths of Stepan small shaman shouted "We must take it", because it is not only safety but also the ability to travel freely in the spiritual pne separately from the body, without keeping in reserve part of the reserve for the battle, without over-insurance and therefore having time for a conditional unit of time and spending a conditional unit of magic times more. Any shaman, even equal to another younger master, would not hesitate to sughter his children, wives, grandchildren, mother-in-w, and favorite dog of his neighbor's wife, along with neighbors, on the altar for such an amulet branded on his soul. Only they won't offer such a treasure for such a price..... or they will, especially if they are a master, but not just spirits, even dark ones, but such shit, with whom it is better not to communicate at all.
This is just one of more than two dozen examples, each allowing to reveal certain facets of the shamanic art from a completely new side and significantly accelerate development, increase survival, or increase the flow of strength. The ability to make with remarkable ease not small and weak, but full-fledged altars, on which all sorts of useful and really strong spirits will fly as butterflies to the fmes? The ability not only to grow into the territory, turning it into your nd, thinning the line between spheres and matter, but also painlessly for themselves to endure the severance of connection with such a personal pce of power? The ability to blur the boundaries of even the strongest contracts over time, to operate very freely even the clearest wording of contracts or to viote them directly, and minimizing, if not leveling the negative effects for the viotor? Eye modification, allowing even at the rank of adept to look into the world of spirits as deeply as a higher shaman (read - magister according to the cssical ranking system) cannot, without requiring additional call or the use of special mushrooms?
The System offered all this and much more. The help obligingly suggested that one could choose only one (two, considering the gift from the Autogoddess), and at the twentieth level there would not be the same gifts, there would be other ones, formed, among other things, by the current choice. Stepan felt like a cat who was offered to choose one of several dozens of pieces of fish, while the cat wanted to "take everything". He had to turn on logic, as far as it is applicable in such a situation, discarding what is needed least of all, selecting the property for the main tasks: maximum survivability, the ability not to attract attention, and then to pump up, preferably without unnecessary risk. The st one can be neglected because it will not be a problem for him to spend a couple of years doing what another isekai will do in a month, and a local resident in half a century.
The list with cries of greed killed with particur cruelty was reduced to three items: the very same super-deep spiritual vision, a very strong facilitation of the process of maintaining spirits in the real world, as well as partial affinity with spiritual entities, which ridiculously facilitated the amplification-settlement of spirits in themselves, allowing to adopt some of the properties of spirits as such. And so it turned out that the bonuses of the tter option were the purest of the catch and yet very useful not only for personal survival and direct combat if it happened to become inevitable, but also suitable for quite peaceful purposes and leisurely pumping. The golden midpoint, almost a benchmark, one could say.
The spiritual vision had a pronounced consequence of its coolness - the mode of perception could not be switched off completely, and prolonged contemption of the spiritual world, in general, made shamans the very strange weirdos, as they were perceived even in the earthly culture. Stepan knew the ways not to let himself go out of phase, he regurly exercised his mind and cleared his consciousness, but if the window to the world of spirits became unswitched and at the same time incredibly deep, opening really crazy ndscapes... it was better not to check Facilitating support is a very good thing, but it just as automatically, based on the benefits, makes camoufge more difficult, because the connection between the shaman and his retinue will give away the disguise like a bck skin-colored American spy in the rural hinternd of Berus.
Not everything is so sad and counteracting this is quite possible, but requires effort and partially negates either the benefit of the new property, or the same benefit, but from the shroud.
After discarding all the unnecessary things, Stepan had to stop at the one that would interfere the least. He took a deep breath and chose the right option: "flexible transformation of the spiritual body". His aura convulsed again and his body became paralyzed, the sensations were no less intense than those of Megamilf's gift, but they were perceived very differently. The thin body felt as if it were being washed under a stream of water, and the aura was a rge washcloth absorbing the water. When it seemed as if it would only burst further, the power that had gathered inside split into fine threads, beginning to weave into a ball and as if moving, weaving something completely new right inside the aura. At some moment the intensity of the sensations reached its peak and Stepan lost consciousness for a few minutes, as the clock showed.
"Well, holy shit now. A shaman has three arms." He quoted the immortal cssic, looking at the third, purely spiritual limb, visible only in spiritual and noticeably worse in purely magical perception. "Another wing from behind the shoulder, and one could fp and wank. Laughing infernally."
The arm was transformed into a tentacle, a wing, a cwed paw, or another tentacle with a bde at the end. It was not just a limb, but an actual continuation of the spirit and soul of the shaman, who, while remaining a material being, had acquired some of the traits of a spirit. For example, the ability to manipute the spiritual world directly, through this very hand, and the list of things it could do was not limited to blows on the face or improper intimate use. To transfer a valuable offering from the material world to the spiritual world, without burning it or otherwise converting it into a digestible format for the spirit. To pull the interestingness brought by the spirit back to reality, or even to pull the spirit itself, instantly and almost without the expenditure of energy on call and transition. To stick someone in the subtle bodies, tearing the bodies and even, if pumped himself, the soul withdrawing, which not every master will repeat. Use as a guide of your own will, helping in calls or creating an additional set of leashes, holding even more active spirits. Create a curse or a spell, delivering it through the spirit world directly into the victim's aura, bypassing most of the standard, some of the non-standard, and even some types of very unusual defenses. Conversely, help remove poison, remove an arrowhead by making it ghostly as well, or repair aura damage. Just put the spirit right into the depths of the enemy's aura and let it tear and devour everything there, causing injury and pain.
To be honest, he could list all the things he could do with his phantom hand for a very long time, not counting the fact that he could hide it and not show it. By the way, due to the synergy with the Shroud, it was possible to hide this hand in the same pce where the Shroud was folded in sleep mode, therefore, this modification was made especially invisible and completely unnoticeable. In addition to the very possibility of exposing part of his spirit and using it as an additional tool, the same property made it very easy to work with blessings and enhancements on a spiritual basis.
For example, take the same amulet with an owl feather, which only a shaman can wear, because otherwise, a spirit that affects the body can do more harm than good. With the new property, Stepan is able to not bother with the feather, calling the spirit directly into himself, increasing the efficiency and opening some of the properties that the spirit through the feather can not transfer because the same efficiency will not allow. The spirit will lose a lot of energy on transferring the effect from the amulet in the thin body. The young man and before could do so, about right after taking the second rank in the spiritual dialog, but, here is the thing, that before he had to suppress the spirit, shackle it with prohibitions, always be on guard, or make a very trusting contract, so that the spirit, being inside the body and aura did not cause really serious damage accidentally or intentionally. Such a controlled possession in the truest sense, although here it is more correct to say possession because possession is a much darker and purely demonic term, about which his knowledge base knows only that it is very bad and "do not mess with demons, they will eat you."
And before, it was a matter of impnting weak spirits into oneself, from which even with such close contact there is not much use. Now an earthling is able to imbue himself with a fighting spirit, for example, the totem aspect of the same tiger or wolf, using both increased physical conditioning and very specific skills, species-specific properties of the spirit itself. Personally using, and not ordering to give this or that effect on the deal or according to the contract, which means much faster cast and increased power of influence at the same expense. And speed, speed of action should not be forgotten!
Always avaible nearby weapon or tool, inconspicuous and extremely useful, but at the same time multifaceted, able to help in non-combat pumping, but at the same time easily py the role of a trump card in the event that the fight can not be avoided. And one more unit in the power with the source, on the change, to candy even sweeter! This, of course, is not ideal, many properties could offer much more in some areas, but to provide all the desired options at once and at the same level - no, there was no other choice. The golden mean as it is, although you can hardly convince your own greed and thirst for freebies.
After lying down for about an hour without any sleep in either eye, Stepan put a free point of characteristics into the Sensitivity - he wanted to add to the equally useful Spirit, but some of the desired knowledge could not be revealed if the Sensitivity was not raised - after waiting for much less unpleasant sensations and finally allowed himself to close his eyes. Well, after he had traditionally run his mind over the status that had changed during one evening, in which there was a noticeable increase in respectability.
And the text, or rather, the information to perceive.
Name: Stepan
Level: 10
Css: Shaman
Characteristics: (free: 0)
Talents (free): 0
Constitution: 1
Sensitivity: 5
Power: 5
Control: 2
Source: 4
Spirit: 8
Resistance: 1
Knowledge acquired: speaking and writing: Free Cities, academic Neirat, Isnd Kingdom; advanced basic shamanic practice; advanced fundamentals of spiritual dialog; wilderness hermit; basics of working with healing spirits; advanced basics of casting shamanic charms (GIFT); basic techniques of dream-inducing and dream correction (GIFT); advanced basic practice of combat calls; basic techniques of interaction with magical sources; basic techniques of countering curses; basic fundamentals of fast calls
Minor knowledge: contract with an elder spirit: Sleepwalker (GIFT); contract with the elder spirits: The Shroud of Touch and the Creator of Decisions (GIFT)
Obtained properties: blessings of health and long life; toughness of spirit; resilience of subtle bodies; small mark of spiritual spheres (GIFT); spiritual shroud of higher auric concealment (GIFT); flexible transformation of the spiritual body
System modifiers: peaceful development I; issuance of system assignments I (GIFT)
Special: Blessing of Liarat si Merrinal, Lady of Gifts and Giver of Gifts, loyal servant of Innes Inney: likely to grant additional talents as you level up; grant specific system quests with increased rewards; hidden effects
Yawning widely, nearly dislocating his jaw, the young man closes his eyes and sinks instantly into a dreamlike realm. Tomorrow he would be traveling, changing his pce of residence, and trying to settle down in some city rger than the vilge. He didn't want to take any risks, but he didn't want to go crazy from loneliness - or, even worse, from communicating with the spirits alone.
The adventures were waiting, but Stepan was smarter and sincerely hoped they could wait without him.
* * *
