The Hunter’s Guide to Monsters - Chapter 75

Within the recesses were two cube-shaped jewelry boxes. Krow took them out, familiar with the design. He’d gotten one the last time too.

Inside each box was a single bracelet with the sigil worked into the design.

So it was bracelets for draculkar?

StrawmanScare got a pendant with a shield design containing a silver sword on blue.

These name tokens proved citizenship within a kingdom.

They could be used to sign documents, at least in Zushkenar.

[Ilas Krow’s Clan Yulsukh Headship Bracelet][Unique]

[+2 STR][+2 DEX][-1 MND]

Gah! A negative MND?

It also gave him +20% chance of success to Trade, Metalworking, and Swordwielding rolls.

[Ilas Krow’s House Osmiorni Membership Bracelet][Unique]

[+5 MND] [-3 VIT]

Oh come on! After he’d been feeding most of his points to VIT, this bracelet just cut three points away?

Even if the MND made up for the loss from the other bracelet, wasn’t that a bit much?

Osmiorni gave him +25% chance of success to Negotiation, Scholarship, and Enchantment rolls.

That was all the data he had on Osmiorni, that and the fact that they were connected to a ‘kandradka’. Krow assumed it was labeled a membership because he had to go through the Bloodright thing to be head.

He equipped the bracelets.

Yulsukh on his right wrist, since it was the one he planned to use for most of his official business until the craft update. Then Osmiorni on his left, as he wasn’t going to use it for a while yet.

He replaced the jewelry boxes with the scrolls that had appeared when the spirit was confirming his registration. If it was similar to before, then these would be family trees.

He unrolled the one with the Osmiorni sigil.

[Access public records?]

Krow snorted. He’d nearly forgotten.

What a question to ask, in this era where privacy was a protected commodity.

Who gave a game access to that much data about yourself?

Even if the game crawlers trawled only the public records, privacy laws demanded consent. This was a non-emergency situation, after all, and the game wasn’t a law enforcement agency.

No one would sign this.

This was the only time he would be asked this. The only chance to engrave a piece of his personal Earth into Zushkenar.

“Yes.”

A contract appeared. He picked up the stylus and signed, with both Elias Crewan and Ilas Krow.

The moment he put down the stylus, the names on the family tree started appearing.

He swallowed as his parents’ names appeared on the scroll. Their real names. His grandparents, and so on.

The last time, he didn’t do this. His family tree in Zushkenar had been made up names.

This time, he had this record.

It was good.

Krow noted that the data was limited to parents and children of his direct ancestry. So no distant cousins on the tree.

Krow let the scroll unravel, the expanse of the family tree revealed.

Whoa.

Fourteen generations. It had to be three hundred years of names before it came to a single ancestor. In the tree though, they were given draculkar lifespans. The tree spanned over three thousand years instead of three hundred.

He looked at the parchment, unrolled too the length of the vaulted room decorated with countless sigils.

His family, enshrined in a virtual tomb with the weight of virtual millennia cloaking them.

He rolled the scroll back up carefully and placed it into the recess.

Touching the sigils, the recesses closed up.

The scrolls would be protected here.

His bracelets would automatically return here, should he die. Retrieving them was the last step in the revival process. Krow lifted his wrist. The bracelets were hidden by the sleeve of his coat and protected by his gauntlets.

The last step of the registration process was getting actual papers.

Walking up the pristine stairs, devoid of the debris of battle, he paused. There was a peculiar post-and-lintel construction he hadn’t noticed before.

He brushed his hand over the symbols carved on the post. Blue sparks brushed off the stone.

A portal.

He looked back at the vault. So it wasn’t in Cerkanst.

Behind his eyes, there sparked an idea.

He recorded every inch of the portal construction before continuing up the stairs.

Sarnaan smiled at him as he came up from the vault. “How many name documents do you need?”

Krow held up two fingers.

He touched each of his bracelets to the papers Sarnaan brought out, inscribing his information and sigil onto the allotted spaces on the parchment.

Sarnaan rolled them up and stood. “Follow me, please.”

She walked up to the next level, stamped and filed the bulk of them into secure drawers. The two she left out, she stamped and returned to Krow. “The head’s office is four doors down to the right. He’ll be expecting you.”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome to Cerkanst, Krow,” she smirked. “Hopefully, there won’t be another Silverstripe attack for another three decades.”

Krow grinned at her. “But then how would I earn a living?”

She laughed as they exited the fileroom. “Didn’t you give it away anyhow?”

“You heard about that?”

“Atimur walked through the village looking like a festival lion, with a massive snakeskin nearly toppling him over every step. What did you expect?” She patted his shoulder and started back down the stairs.

Oh.

Atimur, Krow assumed, was Hulach the herb-grower’s son.

He headed toward the village leader’s office.

One, two, three, four doors.

He knocked.

“Come in.”

The village head was old. As old as Chanchani who he bought the warehouse from. And yet, his steel-colored eyes held the vigor and curiosity of someone centuries younger.

“Greetings, elder,” Krow remembered how Sucar had greeted Chanchani before. “Are you free?”

“Certainly for business. I have not seen you in the village before, have I?”

“Ilas Krow. I’ve only recently come to the village.”

“Ah! The young Silverstripe hunter. You are not hurt badly, I hope? Come and sit. I am Gysavur bal Thaunal.”

Very different from Chanchani.

“Nothing a Low Heal couldn’t cure.”

“Here to have your name papers stamped, I imagine. Let’s see them, then.” He rummaged in a drawer, coming up with a stamp.

“Yes, but I also had a private concern, and hoped to ask for your guidance.” Krow slid the parchment to the center of the table.

“Go on.” The old draculkar perused the papers.

The stamp pressed firm on the papers, glowed briefly. His identity and hometown were now official.

Krow didn’t mince words. “How does someone enter the Bloodright Gauntlet?”