Chapter 2: Gathering moss

Chapter 2: Gathering moss

As fast as it had gotten started, the [Rolling Stones] journey came to an end.

Quest:

Current Altitude: 9 253m

Velocity (v): 0 m/s => [0, 0, 0]

The pebble had gotten stuck.

A cruel twist of fate, but also a somewhat inevitable one. All heroes need great trials to surpass, like the great titan who was sentenced to eternally push a rock up a mountain.

However, therein lay the issue. Our pebble had no push of its own.

As it had flown down from that great mountaintop, cast off in the clash of titans, it had been overjoyed. Such speed! Such process! It could watch the quest ticker tick down, and the velocity stat tick up. The numbers just kept getting bigger!

Faster and faster it had rolled, gathering speed and momentum, speeding down the mountain.

Until it had seen a target.

A queer sort of animal, with two long ears which twitched about happily as it observed its surroundings. Then the pebble remembered two things.

1. It could grow larger by hitting things in the head really hard.

2. And it could [Steer].

Steer activated!

Steering to the [Right]

At that moment, its [Velocity] had been great indeed, so the pebble had begun using its new skill, subtly altering its [Acceleration] vector, gradually adjusting course towards the furred creature. The creature just sat in place, a lone challenger for the rock, standing near a mighty cliff. The pebble saw its lack of motion, and knew the enemy to be inferior.

That was when it erred. For a pebble has rather limited awarenessit did not know of things like smell, taste, or... well, sound. It neared the target, bounced off a rock, and

An ear twitched. A rabbit hoppedand dodged.New novel chapters are published on

And a rock thudded hard against stone, getting lodged between two boulders, a great chasm under it. But it was no longer falling. It was no longer moving.

Stuck.

The very-much-so-not-[Rolling Stone] began gathering moss.

A familiar feeling, really. It had spent most of eternity doing that, so it was in a way a return to normalcy. Retirement after a great career of adventure. It had gone where few rocks had gone before, uncharted waters, and managed to reach level 1. Not anything to be ashamed of.

Proud, the pebble looked back on the folly of youth, and sat back to enjoy its retirement.

And the seasons changed.

First came the chill winds of autumn. Great gales blew, but no fall leaves traveled up here. The mountaintop was a barren, dry place. Far removed from any of the brilliant foliage down below. A high-up desert, with no mirages or oases offering hope to lost travelers. But the rock did not need hope, it did not thirst for water.

It was a rock. Calmly, it enjoyed the cool breeze against its stony exterior, like man might enjoy a warm hearth and home.

Then came the snow of winter, and the rock got buried under, frozen stiff. It had felt the sensation before, and though the ice chilled the pebble to the core, it did not despair. It was a stone. A bit of cold meant nothing to it.

Butas all retired adventurers knoweventually the call of adventure comes once again.

The snow began melting.

Slowlyoh so slowlythings began to move. To change.

First, the packed frost turned to slush, only a thin film of ice sealing the pebble inside its tomb. Then water began flowing down the mountain in great torrents, and the lowlands despaired at the floods. But the pebble it sensed an opportunity.

It awoke from its retirement. Went down to the cellar, grabbed the old heirloom sword, and started sharpening it.

For war was in the air.

It was ready, waiting to pounce forward when finally it happened. Softened to mud and silt by the torrential downpour, the dirt holding up the great boulders, and holding the pebble in place shifted.

Just a hint. But enough. The stone began to gradually move forward. Then it fell, finally free from its bindings. Down, down into the chasm, its great journey began anew.

It had vengeance in its mind. The sword was sharpened.

Diameter (d): 0.09m -> 0.14m

HP: 1 -> 2

The pebble reveled in the sensation of growth, the sweet ambrosia of numbers going up. This was good. This was right.

Coated in blood and stuck with fur, the pebble kept rolling down and downeventually arriving once more to an area of deceleration. A cliff of flatland, and its momentum

It ran out just before the pebble managed to reach the next cliff's edge.

Had our hero gotten stuck again?

No, because the scent of war was still thick in the air. Thickest here of all.

For this was no ordinary cliffside. Small green figures were assembled on two sides of the cliff, red eyes gleaming, and weapons pointed in each others directions. A site of imminent battle.

And the cracking of a stone hitting the ground from up above served as the starting shot. Warcries rang out all around the rock, projectiles started flying, and the green figures started rushing at each other, fury clouding their minds.

This too was a site of vengeance.

Two lines of fighters collided, with a pebble sitting right in the middle. Arms were hacked off and figures fell down in cries of pain, pools of blood expanding to coat the clifftop.

For a brief moment, the pebble hoped that the tide of blood would carry it forward, and restart its journey down the mountain. But alasas was the fate of heroes

Although they were not always willingwar tended to find them.

A green figure fell down by the rock, clutching at an arm with an arrow embedded in it. Growls of pain, but a relentless determination born of long-held hate. It saw a perfectly sized rock, and picked it up. And threw.

The [Rolling Stone] moved once again.

And [Steered].

Straight into the fires of war.

Quest:

Current Altitude: 8 673m

Full Status:

[Unnamed]

Title(s): Title(s): Line-Ender, Patient Ambusher, Bane of Demons

HP: 2/2

Mana: 0/0

Level: 2

Experience: 0/40

Class: Rolling Stone

Sub-class: None

Race: Gneiss Stone

Gold: 0

STATS

Diameter (d): 0.14m

Mass (m): 3.3kg

ABILITIES

Collide

Stee