Fight with your enchanted weapon

You ready your silver {if@ sword = true}sword{elseif mace = true}mace{elseif spear = true}spear{endif} as the translucent form of the ghost pirate shambles his way towards you. With the exception of Blythe, this is the first time you’ve ever fought against someone with a sword, and the thought of that makes you realize that you have no idea what you’re doing. This hallway is really inconvenient for fighting in, as well, for a number of reasons: you can’t circle around your opponent, both because there’s no room and because of the woman behind you;{if spear = true} your spear is long enough that accidentally wedging it between the walls is a real possibility,{endif} there’s only one direction you could run, and there’s nowhere to hide.

The ghostly foe has closed in on you now, and is readying a downward strike. You throw up your weapon in defense, and just barely get there in time to block the heavy blow. The weight of the attack pushes hard on your arms, but you manage to push the pirate back. He gives you no breaks, however, and quickly brings his sword up across your chest. You hear the blade tear through the padding of your doublet, but feel no pain as the garment absorbs the blow. Next the ghost aims to thrust the butt of his sword into your face, but you see it coming and counter with a {if@ sword = true}thrust{elseif mace = true}downward strike{elseif spear = true}thrust{endif} of your own. Unfortunately, the attack with the sword butt was only a feint, with the real blow coming from a left hook aimed at your mid section. That punch knocks the wind out of you, and then the pirate easily sinks his blade through your gut. It hurts like hell as you fall to your knees, lights dancing in front of your eyes.

You’re not done yet, though. As the ghost starts to move past you, you quickly turn and {if@ sword = true}slice clean through its waist with your sword{elseif mace = true}swing your mace hard into its side{elseif spear = true}stab your spear right through where its heart would be, if it had one{endif}, dispatching the enemy in one, decisive blow. Propping yourself up against a wall and gripping what would be a fatal wound if you don’t heal it quickly, you watch as the incorporeal man fades away into thin air.

Then, before you can start to pass out from blood loss, you start spamming heal spells on yourself. You cast the spell four times in a row before getting hit with a splitting headache. The wound is now almost entirely gone, but you’ve just traded passing out from blood loss for passing out from mana loss. I’m getting really fucking tired of this mana fatigue bullshit, you think as you struggle to maintain consciousness. You do a visual sweep of the hall, but there don’t seem to be any more enemies. The woman you protected, Miss Smith, is sat on the floor behind you looking like she just… saw a ghost… the big hoop skirt of her Victorian dress splayed out around her like a puddle.

“Y-you k-killed it, right?” she asks. “It’s not going to c-c-come back?”

“Probably not,” you say, before clapping your hand against a splitting headache. “Who fucking knows.”

“Y-you should know! You fought it!” The Victorian beauty regains some of her pomp from earlier, saying, “Any man worth mentioning ought to be able to kill hundreds of ghosts! If I’d b-been dressed for it, and had my bow, I bet even I could’ve killed that… that… evil thing!” Puffing out her cheeks in frustration, Miss Smith starts making an effort to stand back up. You do the same, and despite your wobbly legs and aching head, you manage to stand before she does. I wonder if the dress really makes it that difficult, you think, or if she’s just like this. You lean against the wall to help steady yourself against the still-rocking ship. After watching her struggle for ten long seconds, you reach down and hoist her up onto her feet. “Ah! What are you—!?”

“Less talking, more walking,” you say. “I feel like I’m going to pass out if I go anywhere right now, so I need you to find me a mana potion. Do you know what those look like?”

“Please, of course I do,” says Smith. “What do I look like, an idiot?” She almost turns and walks off before abruptly stopping. “Hey, wait! I don’t have to do anything you say! Besides, my… my ankle! I bruised my ankle when the storm hit. It would be cruel to have me move around so much right now.”

This bitch. She looks genuinely distraught about her ankle, but in the sort of way that a spoiled child looks after they’ve been asked to eat their vegetables. You really don’t have time to be dealing with her, and you have even less time to be stuck here unable to defend yourself. Throwing caution to the wind, you drop to your knees and duck under the woman’s giant hoop skirt. She screams, of course, and tries to kick you away, but you just grab a hold of her “injured” ankle, causing her to fall backwards onto her ass. The skirt falls back and reveals you still holding the offending leg, and you quickly chant a healing spell that completely erases the bruise. Using even more mana when you’re already running on fumes was never going to be a good idea, and you quickly feel the effects threatening to knock you out for good. With your last vestige of energy, you lean in to where your face is mere inches from the woman’s.

“Find me that potion,” you say, staring daggers at her. “Before another ghost shows up.”

Then you black out on top of her.

…

You feel a liquid in your mouth. This is familiar somehow, you think. Except last time, someone was helping you swallow; this time, you appear to be ****.

Eyes fly open, body jolts upright, ears take in the frightened squeal of the woman you sent in search of a mana potion. You cough up a storm, then rip the half-emptied bottle out of Smith’s hands and chug the rest of it in one go.

“How long was I out?” you ask.

“Are you not even gonna thank me? I looked all over for that—”

“HOW LONG?” you shout. The ship is still shaking, and the storm doesn’t sound like it’s gotten any lighter outside. Clearly, the situation is still dangerous.

“…Maybe ten minutes, I-I don’t really know,” says Miss Smith, clearly thrown off by your aggressiveness. “It t-took me a while to find a potion. I had to… borrow one from an officer’s room.” As you listen to Smith, you start moving your arms and legs around, shaking the exhaustion out of them as the potion revitalizes your core. Once she stops talking, you push to your feet and start heading towards the stairs.

The difficulty of these trials ramped up way too quickly. I’m going to need Blythe to start training me again.

You’re running on fumes now, so it’s time to end this.