Matthew Jones
Stories
7
Chapters
2,283
Words
4.7 K
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0
Reading
23 m
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Zorian would be the first to admit he wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. He was unsociable, irritable, and tended to assume the worst of people. He had always known that, even before he had died and gotten stuck in a mysterious time loop, but he had also always felt he was justified in his behavior. Indeed, if anyone had been foolish enough to criticize him about it before the time loop, he would have reacted with all the subtlety and grace of a disturbed rattlesnake. Now… well, he still…
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On the surface, getting saddled with Novelty seemed like a recipe for endless frustration and annoyance – she was an impatient, impulsive chatterbox that seemed to have no concept of personal space, always hovering uncomfortably near him and poking him with her front legs. Zorian was not afraid of spiders, but that kind of close physical contact was just too much. Basically, she was a spider version of Kirielle. And he only tolerated Kirielle’s antics as much as he did because she was his little…
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Zorian woke up in his bed in Cirin, Kirielle wishing him a good morning in that charming manner of hers. He was annoyed both at himself for not paying more attention to his surroundings and at the unknown attacker that did him in. It figured that he would survive all those close calls and near-death situations, only to get killed by a simple sneak attack. He passed the train ride sketching magic item blueprints in his notebook. Most of them were trivial things, like plates that kept the temperature of a…
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In the tunnels beneath Cyoria, Zorian sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, trying to sense the minds of nearby aranea with his own. That was the task he had been given by the matriarch as his first lesson, and it reminded him uncomfortably of Xvim’s mana sensing exercise. It wasn’t going too well. That was another thing it shared with Xvim’s bullshit lessons. the disembodied voice of the matriarch admonished him. “There’s got to be a better way of learning this,” Zorian complained. This…
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Zorian didn’t like temples. Partially it was due to his bad experiences with them as a child, but mostly due to his inability to understand the reverence with which the priesthood spoke of the vanished gods they were supposed to be venerating. Virtually every story he had read or heard about the age of gods made the divinities sound like gigantic jerks, so why would anyone want them The temple in front of which he was standing at the moment did nothing to dispel that unease. The large, dome-like…
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One thing Zorian found interesting about the restarts was that small, seemingly inconsequential choices exerted incredible influence on what happened in the restart. Conversely, actions that he felt should throw everything out of whack often tended to have muted, or even non-existent effects. Case in point, the last time he had gone into the sewers to meet the matriarch, convincing Ilsa to grant him an access permit to enter the sewers had been trivial. Thus, when Zorian marched into Ilsa’s office a few…
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He should have known, really – every time he got even slightly closer to getting to the bottom of this mess, some complication sprang up to hamper his progress. It was uncanny. He was half-tempted to conclude the (as of yet unconfirmed) third time-traveler was messing with him, but he would have expected something far more decisive than a pack of war trolls if that were the case. …and now that he thought about it, it was kind of scary how radically his perspective must have shifted during the last…
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For a moment, silence reigned (both literal and mental), as Zorian stared into the unblinking eyes of his adversary. Zorian wasn’t one of those people who had a phobia of spiders, but it was hard not to be intimidated by a creature that could read your thoughts and have you completely at its mercy due to induced paralysis. He couldn’t even try to physically overpower the effect, since the paralysis was a purely mental one – he was quite literally locked out of control of his own body. The situation…
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Tearing out a piece of paper from one of his notebooks, Zorian wrote down a short message for Imaya, explaining that he had another of his divination lessons with Haslush and would thus be late today. He still didn’t see what the big deal about being late was, but he really didn’t want to argue about it. Of course, writing the message was one thing and getting it to Imaya was another – he was at the Academy currently, and it was a long way from there to Imaya’s place. He was pretty sure he had a…
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Zorian felt the mana-charged marble approaching him, but didn’t move. He couldn’t tell whether it was aimed to the left or to the right, but he knew it wasn’t aimed at his forehead. He could always tell when it was. Always. He wasn’t sure how he could tell that with absolute certainty when he could not actually pinpoint where the marble was going, but he was grateful for it. He just wished he could replicate that success to the exercise in general. The marble whizzed past him and he struggled to…
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