The Second Edition would start at midnight.
In preparation for this moment, Vainqueur Knightsbane, Great Calamity of all Ages, supreme god of the Outremonde Pantheon, King of the World — and the Albain Mountains — gathered his twelve godlike minions in his planar realm.
Also known as [Dracotopia], it was the most beautiful place in the universe, and the dragon would not let anyone tell him otherwise. A world-sized hoard, worthy of his newfound greatness. For since his ascension, Vainqueur had grown larger, being now halfway between his mortal size and the Elder Wyrm’s, towering over his minions. In time, perhaps he would outgrow even his progenitor.
The floor and walls of his realm were made of gold, the ceiling of gems. Pillars of silver, allowed out of respect for the fallen Icefang, formed a circle around Vainqueur’s ostentatious throne; the dragon had moved a large table representing a map of Outremonde before it, so that he may oversee Outremonde Civilization sessions personally.
Each of his minions had answered his summons, gathering around the table; even Wormlike Sablar, who never stopped complaining about anything, had shown up. Certainly, he had tried to shirk his duties; in response, Vainqueur had eaten him once and threatened to do so for all eternity when the insect regenerated in Valhalla the year afterward. The worm learned the meaning of the food chain, his place in it, and never contested the dragon’s rule again.
“Your Majesty,” Minion Mithras, the most reliable of his godly lackeys, spoke up. “We are ready.”
“Your Divine Majesty,” Vainqueur insisted, wishing to be exalted above mortal majesty; after all his work, he had earned a self-promotion. “Minions, I gathered you to present you the fruit of my work, and prepare you for the next campaign that we will start tomorrow.”
Since his ascension, Vainqueur had worked tirelessly to renovate the old System, and guide his minions through the end of their previous Outremonde development campaigns; fusing the two groups of players into one, forcing Wormlike Sablar to attend sessions, and maintaining peace. Now, the wait had ended.
Vainqueur oversaw all his minions until all of them had sat and waited for him to begin. The dragon god cleared his throat, mentally rehearsing his epic speech.
“It has been sixteen years, sixteen years,” Vainqueur insisted on the words, “since I, Vainqueur Knightsbane, Great Calamity of this Age, ascended to become the ruler of all creation.”
“More like the solar syst—” Knight Leone started.
“All of creation!” Vainqueur snapped, silencing the foolish knight. “Sixteen years have passed, and the time of small nations has ended. Now, is the era of empires! Greatest of all being the V&V Empire, the most powerful, prosperous nation in the world, which worships me above all else!”
The minions listened religiously, since they knew how proud he was of his country. After all, he constantly reminded them of its greatness every single meeting.
“Leading the armies of my beautiful niece, Empress Jolie, the Whore King Victor has expanded its borders all the way to the New World. Elsewhere, other countries have grown in size and strength; Gardemagne, Barin, Thaoten, Teikoku, and Nagastan. The fairies, now redeemed, have learned their place, and dragon adventurers rule the skies. There has been peace for years, but now, tensions boil beneath the scales!”
Soon, the V&V Empire would crush all its rivals.
And one day, the whole world would be V&V!
“Outremonde is now ready for the update of its System, designed by me,” Vainqueur boasted. “It will include revolutionary ideas, like racial levels, new classes, a better experience progression, more opportunities to build wealth, and so much content you can only dream of exploring it all! Of course, out of fairness, dragons will start with the highest levels and best abilities, but minion builds will remain perfectly viable.”
Balance shouldn’t get in the way of realism.
Vainqueur would also finally restore the [Dragon Magic] feature which the Elder Wyrm had removed, granting them back their native soulcrafting abilities; while fairies would also start with a soul on birth, putting them on the same starting line as everyone else. The problems that plagued the first System would soon become a thing of the past.
“Now, to inaugurate this Second Edition of the dragon-made Outremonde System, we shall launch the Dalton Dynasty Campaign tomorrow alongside the new rules. While I expect you to keep influencing the world through your portfolios and churches, each of you will also select a chosen to playtest the new System. You will select a Dalton child, the beautiful minion spawn of my perfect chief of staff, who will soon join us at this table. You will guide them for…”
Vainqueur hesitated, before settling on the length of a nap. “Fifty years. Fifty years, and the child accumulating the most prestige point at the end wins.”
He glanced at each minion. “Now, have you all chosen your Claimed champion?”
Almost all of them nodded at once, except Sablar, who earned Vainqueur’s glare. “Worm Minion…”
“I don’t want to play this stupid game!” Wormlike Sablar complained, as he always did.
“Minion…” Vainqueur gave him the stare, the giant insect sulking. “You will socialize, whether you like it or not!”
“Victor has one hundred eighty-eight children, if you count all the slimes he adopted,” Greedy Shesha said. “You should find someone matching your peculiar tastes in that pool, Sablar.”
The number of natural children among them had greatly disappointed Vainqueur. The dragon had made his chief of staff swear to reproduce, but the years and family life had tamed his breeding spirit. Still, quality trumped quantity. “Wormlike Sablar, choose or roll.”
“Roll me!” Rolley Dice insisted. “Roll me for your avatar!”
Finally realizing he wouldn’t escape his minion duties, Wormlike Sablar sighed. “Does he have a fomor child? Or one with [Chronomancer] levels?”
“I think one of his natural sons has levels in that class,” Untasty Cybele replied.
“Close enough,” the worm replied, choosing his candidate.
“In my case, I will change my choice to Brani?o II,” Dwarf Veran spoke up.
This caused the audience to gasp. “You are no longer playing Brani?a?” Crowman Deathjester asked, astonished by the change. The dwarf had showered that child with gifts since her birth.
“She took a level in [Paladin],” Dwarf Veran raged on, infuriated. “[Paladin]! Her godmother and mother are furious and disappointed, but not as much as I am!”
Knight Leone seemed to take perverse joy in this twist. “Oh, in that case, I will Claim her myself. Maybe there is hope in that family.”
“My protegee isn’t born yet,” the Moon Man said.
“Are you sure?” Cybele asked. “Your spawn will start sixteen years late. This is a wide gap in prestige points to recover.”
“Can’t be worse than Seng’s choice,” Corpseling Camilla said with contempt, glaring at the mermaid.
“I told you, it was an accident!” Mermaid Seng complained while blushing, “We, we were both drunk, and we were watching Grandrake’s Princess Mating Habits and, and…”
“I will allow no breed-shaming under this roof!” Vainqueur thundered, although he did admit his favored minion could have shown greater breeding standards.
“My chosen one will be the most powerful,” the Moon Man prophesied, "And with the highest stats.”
“Goddamn metagamer…” Deathjester complained.
“Fine,” Vainqueur told the squid. “But if you are mistaken, you shall play a weredragon.”
The matter settled, Vainqueur reviewed the rules and his minions’ latest actions, making sure they didn’t disobey his ‘Godlike Minion Deontology Charter.’ The dragon restricted their influence to their portfolio, churches, or Claimed, ensured they made the universe run on time, and saw to it that dragons and minions would always find adventures worthy of them.
“Second Edition,” Minion Mithras reminisced. “I was worried at first about this divine organization, but I wholeheartedly support the new order.”
“You are just happy someone else disciplines us,” Corpseling Camilla accused her rival while smiling. Only Crowman Deathjester complained about rule-stickers, having been a troublemaker for years. Vainqueur had suspected him of cheating behind his back many times, but the god of criminals was always where the evidence wasn’t.
“It is still hard to believe we spent years playing separately,” Untasty Cybele said. “Things are running more smoothly now, the balance of the world shifting from rampant chaos to neutrality.”
“Who else but a dragon could achieve god-peace?” Vainqueur replied although he was pleased by the positive reception. The dragon had worked hard to make his godly minions get along better and to see them talk around a table warmed his heart.
After reviewing the rules, Vainqueur dismissed the pantheon, expecting them to return at the first hour tomorrow morning to begin the campaign. For now, the dragon emperor had a meeting with destiny.
Tonight was Victor’s last chance to achieve divinity before the update, and Vainqueur had been waiting for sixteen years.
From the balcony of Murmurin’s imperial palace, wielding his scythe and wearing his infernal armor, Victor glanced up at the night skies and blinked in astonishment. A solitary yellow orb glittered in the darkness, surrounded by stars.
The Mooooooooon had turned into solid gold.
“When did this happen?” Victor asked Jules, who had warned him first.
“Twenty minutes ago,” the necromancer replied. “Croissant sent us a magical message; apparently it happened in the blink of an eye, probably due to a Tier XII spell.”
The highest spellcasting tier recorded… and right before the planned System Update too. Was Furibon trying to quickly accumulate levels at the last moment, as Victor did? The Vizier was glad to hear news from the lich, the undead having vanished for sixteen years, but the timing seemed very odd.
The thought made Victor feel slightly nostalgic, his eyes wandering off to the city which the castle oversaw. Gone was the tiny village he and Vainqueur had once conquered; Murmurin had grown into a Rome for monsters, home to millions. Dragons coexisted with orcs and mimics, as the country did with Gardemagne and Barin; train roads linked the city to other towns, forming the bloodstream of a nation; airships had even started appearing in the skies alongside wyrms, linking the empire’s colonies in the New World with the mainland. Victor had worked tirelessly to develop and expand this place, until V&V rivaled the Spanish Empire at its height.
“I guess Vainqueur will be rather happy,” said the Grand Vizier. “But otherwise, has the change negatively impacted our colonies?”
“No, neither the mooooooooon’s density nor mass changed; I believe Furibon only altered the moon’s surface. It may affect the fauna, but troubles will be minimal.” Jules cleared his throat. “The empress was extremely pleased, but she will continue her annual tour of the golem farms as she planned.”
Good. Jolie had grown into a caring and responsible ruler, almost as well-loved as her uncle. While she spent a lot of time adventuring, the young dragon made sure to check on her subjects’ well-being whenever she returned from her latest quest. “What else is on the agenda?”
“There is a domestic dispute between Isabelle Maure and Chocolatine de Gevaudan about the family planning.”
Again? Victor couldn’t suppress a sigh. This was hopefully his last day on the job, and it would be spent disarming another feud. “I’ll deal with this.”
As the two left the balcony to move to the throne room, Victor thought about his role in the great bureaucracy he created.
The Vizier mostly spent his time either abroad on diplomatic missions or managing his family nowadays, which he took as a good thing. Over the last decade, Murmurin’s institutions had learned to manage the country on their own, without always relying on his direct involvement. Vainqueur’s Empire would survive his and Victor’s absence, something thought impossible sixteen years ago.
The throne room, which had once been Furibon and where Jolie now held court, had a dragon-sized throne shaped within a golden statue of Vainqueur. Victor himself had often seated there when Jolie was busy adventuring abroad, although it never felt comfortable. Slime knights, Victor’s adopted children, stood watch as the Empress’ elite guard, their glueness covered by metal helmets and sticky swords.
He found Chocolatine and Isabelle at each other's throat, with Kia in the middle.
Victor would have wished it was metaphorical, but it wasn’t; doubly so since they had brought their children to the gathering. Chocolatine had transformed into a giant wolf, backed by two red wyverns and two crimson king slimes. Meanwhile, Isabelle had summoned a blade of wind, the ten years old Brani?o II playing with hellfire while his older sister Brani?a watched on with her arms crossed.
Kia and slime guards stood between both groups, desperately trying to calm them.
“What is all the racket?” Victor thundered, his presence instantly cowing everyone. It had taken him years to get the ‘evil overlord’ voice right, even with the help of Akhenapep’s sealed soul. Much to his shame though, the would-be heroes trying to slay him had given the Vizier a less than intimidating nickname.
The Whore King of Murmurin.
“Dad!” His kids all smiled at his presence, instantly relaxing. Chocolatine took back her human form, dressing as a peasant with red hood-like clothes; the contrast with Isabelle, who wore expensive silk and jewelry, couldn’t be clearer. One represented the common monsters, another the infernal aristocracy. Both had benefited from his Tier X [Idoun] spell though, and the one thousand years of eternal youth it provided; to cover the ravenous black hole they called a national budget, Victor had often sold the spell to foreigners.
Unfortunately, what had started as a mere animosity between the various sides of his extended family had spiraled into political infighting. Since Victor had been a good family man, giving his mistresses and children government offices, factions within his family had entrenched themselves in the empire’s political landscape.
Kia tried to counterbalance their influence since the Empress listened to her advice, but she was more often than not adventuring abroad and had few allies in the Empire itself.
In this case, though, the conflict sounded more personal than political.
“Vic, she wants to take my place in the family planning tomorrow!” Chocolatine pointed an accusing finger at Isabelle. “After I already prepared everything with Al!”
“This is an urgent matter!” Isabelle replied icily. “About his heir.”
“You mean his soon to be former heir, mother?” Brani?o II mused, pinched by his sister. While Brani?a looked like the spitting image of her mom, her younger brother had inherited an [Insect/Dragon] typing. He had grown into a humanoid crimson moth with dragon features and already earned a [Demon Prince] level at his age.
It was like watching the second coming of Brandon Maure, except the bashful demon king had never been half as greedy and competent as Victor’s own brood. The half-dragon moth was already planning world domination at ten, which his father blamed on his wyrm heritage.
“It’s our sixteenth anniversary!” Chocolatine complained to Victor. “You promised we would do something special!”
“Yeah, Dad, you said we could go to Dungeonland!” complained his eldest weredragon son, Brioche; unlike their mom, Chocolatine’s children kept their wereforms, being more in tune with their beastly nature.
“I want to try the Tomb of Furibon!” his wereslime son Truffe insisted, hopping on place. “Glunine said they had exploding ducks!”
“And we will visit it,” Victor promised this side of the family, trying to broker peace. “We will go dungeon crawling, I promise.”
“That’s lame,” Brani?a complained. She had grown into a beautiful young woman, almost the spitting image of her mother, although their personalities couldn’t be further apart.
“Darling.” Isabelle frowned, her gaze turning jealous. “When you are done cajoling your menagerie, perhaps we can talk about your trueborn daughter.”
Chocolatine and her children glared at the demon queen with murderous fury, Victor raising his scythe to prevent a battle. “All my kids are equal before my eyes,” he warned Isabelle, giving her a stern stare.
“I am sorry,” she said without truly meaning it.
“What is it about?” Victor asked, eager to have the matter done. Why were these two always within an inch of fighting whenever in the same room? He had to move them to opposite regions of the empire to prevent a massacre!
“Mom wants me to change my [Paladin] class to [Dark Knight], that’s why!” Brani?a complained.
“What is wrong with that class?” Brioche asked, curious. He himself had become a [Paladin of Isengrim], much to his mom’s delight.
“No daughter of mine will ever become a [Paladin]!” Isabelle replied angrily.
“It would be nice, actually,” Brani?o II said. “Only my own sibling would be worthy of becoming my eternal rival, and keep me sharp as I claim my rightful plac—”
“Aunt Kia is one!” the paladin interrupted her brother, the knight in question wisely remaining silent. “And your despotic puppet dragon-empress too!”
“Brani?a, I can accept your choice of a class, but I won’t tolerate talk of democracy under this roof,” Victor warned his daughter. “I spent years turning this country into a nepotistic oligarchy where my children, adopted or otherwise, are all rich and powerful. I will not have it contested from within!”
Victor would never be a good person, but he was a family man, damn it!
Brani?a crossed her arms, while Isabelle gave Victor a frustrated stare. “We need to have a talk with her, Victor, as parents. If not tomorrow, then today.”
Victor inwardly winced, tired as all Happyland. “I can’t today, and I gave my word for tomorrow,” he said, turning to Jules while Chocolatine stuck her tongue at Isabelle. “Who am I scheduled to spend time with in two days?”
“It’s your free alone day of the year, sir.”
Victor sighed inwardly. “We will have a family talk in two days, Isabelle.”
This didn’t satisfy the demon queen, who clenched her teeth, but that was the best compromise she would get. Brani?o II was a lot more enthusiastic though. “Dad, would you mind teaching me [Hasten] after you’re done scolding sis?”
“You learned to cast Tier III spells already?” Victor asked, gushing while his prodigious son nodded pompously. “I am so proud!”
“So am I,” Isabelle added, easing up a bit before grabbing her children by the arms and teleporting away.
“I don’t like her,” Chocolatine told Victor. “Can’t you set her aside? It would make more time for us.”
“Now, now, you already know my answer,” Victor replied, having had this conversation countless times already. Chocolatine pouted in jealousy, causing the Vizier to sigh. Some things never changed.
“I wouldn’t mind showing Brani?a the [Paladin] ropes, Mom,” Brioche argued, which made Victor beam a bit. While their mothers didn’t get along at all, his children had learned the value of kinship.
After Chocolatine and their children left, satisfied with the outcome, Victor suddenly noticed Kia giving him a strange gaze. “What?”
“I’m just glad I never got dragged into this public mess you call a private life, Vic.”
“You don’t say,” he deadpanned, Jules saying nothing in the background. The ghoul had grown used to these spat scenes over the years.
Kia shook her head, her hands on her sword. “I could take Brani?a under my wing as my squire. We get along better than she does with her mother.”
It would make Isabelle furious, even if Brani?o II was turning out to be the prodigious demon lord she always wanted his sister to be.
On the other hand, the demoness hated Kia, whose ‘goodish’ advice Jolie favored over Isabelle’s own. If Victor presented this as a ploy to get the [Paladin] away to help reinforce her political influence, his mistress might be tempted to make a sacrifice.
“I believe I can convince her,” Victor said, although he would have to use all his charm for it. “But if it works, you will have to leave the Empire for at least a year.”
“What?” Kia winced. “For where?”
“You said you itched for another adrenaline rush?” Victor smiled mirthfully. “I heard Outremonde’s Australia is a place full of high-level monsters…”
Kia hesitated to leave Jolie without her good counsel, but Victor had nailed his proposal. She was growing restless, and so jumped at the opportunity to find a challenge.
Another family crisis averted. Truthfully, Victor had the feeling the drama would continue even after he ascended.
“You feel ready?” Victor asked Jules, the necromancer following him as he left the throne room. “If I succeed, you will take over as Grand Vizier.”
The ghoul nodded, having prepared himself for almost a year. “I appreciate the honor, Victor, but I still wonder why you chose me.”
“Frankly, you’re the most reliable person in this whole Empire,” which said a lot, “and you’re the only one who isn’t attached to any particular faction. If anyone can arbitrate everyone, it will be you.”
“I… well, I hope so.” The necromancer gave a sharp nod to his old friend. “The Empire will miss you, Victor. Should you succeed, we will set aside another statue in your honor.”
“Next to Vainqueur’s own, I hope.” The Vizier smiled, before hugging his successor. “Good luck with this mess, Jules.”
With these words, he moved to his apartments, finding Cybele already present. “Victor,” she said, her voice melodious and warm. “I was wondering if you’d leave me dry.”
Victor knew better than scorn the goddess of pleasure, whose precepts he had lived by. “The device is done, milady,” he said. “But are you sure? You could try it with anyone else.”
“For this service, and all those you did to my cause, I would gladly help you achieve divinity,” the deity replied. “You would fit well among us.”
“How is Camilla?” Victor asked anxiously, the goddess having given him the cold shoulder since the mermaid incident years ago.
“She is still angry about Seng. You may be able to patch up eventually, but… you should spend a few decades apart.”
Victor knew he had drunk one too many beers that day, but when Seng complained about Camilla having flings with her worshipers while no one wanted to touch her…
The Vizier had always wondered what Ludvic's last advice was. Now he knew.
At least it finally forced the mermaid goddess to finally sober up.
The Vizier moved into his chambers, and the magical necklace he had worked on for the last years. His last hope at godhood before the update changed everything.
It took him years due to the experience requirements, but Victor managed to grind all the way to level 98. [Moriarty] had been a pain to level up, needing years-long plans of conquest and political maneuvers to grind; as for [Fiendish Rake], even the mermaid incident only granted him one level in it.
Now, with the planned update for tonight, Victor had to move quickly. The Vizier had been warned by his godly patrons that his total level might be adjusted down to fit the new, fairer balance, forcing him to work another decade to ascend. Either he ascended tonight, or he would have to wait for another attempted apocalypse.
With his [Fiendish Rake] level at 9, the Vizier only saw one option to reach Valhalla before the time limit.
“This necklace should debuff your charisma between one hundred fifty and two hundred points, according to my calculations,” Victor said, upon handing it to Cybele, who put it around her neck. “Making it possible to look at and touch you.”
“I must warn you, I have gone centuries without it,” the goddess replied, brimming with anticipation. “If it works, I will make my joy loud.”
Victor breathed deeply, bracing himself for either success or death as the goddess raised her hood.
Half an hour before the update.
Vainqueur waited patiently before the doors of Valhalla, glancing at the marble platform around him with nostalgia. It seemed like today since he had bested the Vile Odieuse there, at a great cost; and to a dragon, sixteen years were but the blink of an eye. Or rather, should have been.
Why had it felt so long though? Because he had been separated from his friend for so long? So much had happened in sixteen years… even the vile Forgotten One had redeemed himself, using his powers to purify the cursed planet Moon.
And now, as the minutes stretched on, Vainqueur wondered if he would have to wait even more.
But then, a flash of light filled him with hope.
“Excalibur!”
Friend Victor teleported before Vainqueur’s eyes, naked below the waist, scythe in one hand and his armored pants in the other. He must have grabbed them at the last second before teleportation.
“It worked,” the Vizier declared, panting in exhaustion. “It worked!”
“It’s been years, my friend,” Vainqueur spoke up, greatly pleased. “Welcome back.”
“It has been too long, Vainqueur,” Friend Victor bowed deeply, before hastily putting back his underclothes. “I’m sorry for the delay, but reaching level 99 was hard.”
“Minion, you have nothing to apologize for,” Vainqueur said kindly. “You honored your oaths, all of them, and made me proud. You will apologize only if you fail to stay at my side.”
“I still have a trial to pass?” Victor asked, having finished dressing. “I’m ready.”
“The old System will generate it soon,” Vainqueur replied calmly, “or maybe not.”
Perhaps the Elder Wyrm, in her infinite wisdom, will have recognized that Vainqueur’s struggle for sixteen years without his chief of staff had been the true trial. Or that Victor had earned his place among the dragon’s minions.
“You will enjoy the Second Edition of the Vainqueur System,” the divine emperor said proudly.
“I’ve already noticed the increase in dropped loot,” his chief of staff chuckled.
“One-tenth,” Vainqueur replied.
His old partner marked a short pause, as he registered the dragon’s words. “Wait, you mean we only get one-tenth of the loot drop?”
“Generosity starts with myself,” Vainqueur replied wisely.
Silence stretched between the two. Eventually, Vainqueur’s manling chuckled, while the wyrm emperor smiled in amusement. “Some things never change,” the Vizier mused.
“I understand why time felt so long,” the dragon declared, his heart warmed by their old friendship. “I have many minions, but only one friend. While standing atop of a hoard feels glorious… it is also lonely.”
“It’s never too late,” the Vizier consoled him. “The first time is always the hardest.”
So true. Because he would not be alone for the next time. And with the update done, Vainqueur would finally have time to visit his mortal family, praise Jolie for her work, check on Genialissime’s children… the dragon yearned for a long-needed vacation. And soon, he would have it.
Everything was right in the world.
Until an old, long-forgotten voice shattered the warm atmosphere.
“[Za Warudo]!”
Time paused for five seconds in Valhalla, although neither Vainqueur nor his minion were affected.
The psychological effect, though, devastated the dragon; especially when he teleported on the platform, a ghost straight out of a dark, forgotten past.
He was exactly like in the dragon’s old nightmare, an undying paragon of evil. But if anything, he had grown worse with time, wearing a lead suit over his dusty bones, powerful ring artifacts on each hand, and a false crown on his head. His empty eyes radiated pauperness, an evil long buried, but never fully destroyed.
No...
Suddenly, it all made sense. Why the Forgotten One had faked redemption by turning the cursed lead Moon to gold. Why he had remained under the radar for years, luring Vainqueur into a false sense of security, while preparing for this final cruelty.
A dragon’s angry roar echoed across Valhalla, shattering the time-stop.
“FUUUUUUUURRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIBBBOOOOONNNNN!”
“Furi?” Victor reacted with more surprise than anger, even if he winced from his old friend’s booming voice. “What are you doing here?”
“How could I not show up?” the lich rasped, his body crackling with magic. “After fulfilling all my ambitions, how could I deny the opportunity to humiliate Knightsbane again?!”
“Don’t tell me…”
“You shall not become a god, Victor!” The undead warlock dramatically raised his hands, lightning coming out of his fingers and illuminating the divine realm. “I will!”
“You waited sixteen years, grinding to become a god at the same time I did…” Friend Victor trailed off, astonished by his nemesis’ insane persistence, “just to annoy Vainqueur one last time?”
The lich had no lips, but his teeth seemed to morph into a cruel smile.
"I have nothing better to do."
His evil knew no bound; nor did his boredom.
Your minion is challenged by Final Boss Furibon!
Now that’s an archenemy!
“Minion!” Vainqueur shouted, Victor readying his weapon to fight V&V's ultimate enemy. “Kick his ass!”
“You’re getting back in my scythe, Furi!” Victor shouted.
“Or I will seal you in it!” the lich snarled back, spellcasting. “[Meteor Rain]!”
And the dragon god watched, as spells clashed against spells, scythe against staff, sparkles illuminating Valhalla. Explosions shook the platform, reality tearing itself apart as the System prepared to enter its new phase.
So ended Outremonde’s First Edition.
In gold and lead.
Victor "Whore King" Dalton
Level: 99 (Monster Knight: Red Dragon 20/Reaper 30/Moriarty 19/Chaos Rider 10/Weathermaker 10/Fiendish Rake 10)
Type: Slime/Dragon
Party: V&V
Health Points
2385
Special Points
660
Strength
76 (+6)
Vitality
91 (+6)
Skill
112 (+8)
Agility
98
Intelligence
128
Charisma
126 (+49; +6 when lying)
Luck
107
Personal Perks
Class Perks
Claimed by Dice
Skeleton Key
Observer
Eye for Treasure
Deadfriend
Scythe Lord
Seducer
Monster Kin
Claimed by the Moon Man
Minion Trainer
Black Curse
Monster Student
Noxious Fire
Monster Lifeforce (Red Dragon)
Claimed by Shesha
Monster Rider
Epic
Monster Insight
Vizier Education
Reanimator
Troll Regeneration
Soulmaster VI
Perk Forge
Helheim
Darwinist
Steal Life
Blood Pulse
Mook Promotion
Claimed by Deathjester
Slayer of Men
Claimed by Camilla
Scarlet Study
Exhibitionist
Master's Shield
Slime Totem
Fright Knight
Bloodborn
Lethal
Claimed by Cybele
Hades Blast
Magellan
Final Problem
Miniboss
Black Horseman
Claimed by Seng
Diabolical Mastermind
Claimed by Veran
Envious
Claimed by Mithras
Nightmare Lord
Claimed by Isengrim
Vicious Ankou
Claimed by Leone
Devil Archmage III
Claimed by Sablar
Charon’s Grim Harvest
Pantheist
Asteroid Dynamics
Claimed by Vainqueur
Zmey Rider
Godparent
White Rider
Stat Boosters +10 (all stats)
Apocalypse Storm
Planeloved
Curse of Diarmuid
Emotion Magic II
Red Rider
Rally Minion
Hail-bringer
Black Rider
Foul Metamagic
Pale Rider
Hades Rider
Witch Mark
True Crime Profiler
Hounds of Baskerville
Perfect Crime
Sign of the Four
Living Catnip
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