Beastborne

by James T Callum

  When they were done discussing it, Durvin held up one thick-fingered hand. “We’ll give ‘er a test once I talk to me craftsmen. They’re a right persnickety lot, very particular folk about who touches their stuff ye know. Ain’t right to just tell ‘em to place it somewhere they don’t control. It ain’t a reflection on ye, boy. Just the way it is.”

  Hal had to accept that. He shook Durvin’s hand and once again offered the dwarf to come and eat with Hal’s wagon, to which he declined as he did every invitation. Hal shrugged and bid him to enjoy his breakfast in peace, then went to join his own wagon.

  55

  “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?” Hal asked Elora.

  She was petting Komachi, the pobul stretched out in her arms. Paws tucked beneath her, Komachi slumbered peacefully after having cleaned her plate of its contents and coming around to each of their plates to take her “Komachi Tax” as the pobul called it.

  Everybody set aside a portion of their food for her, because no matter how much she ate she always seemed to want some of everybody else’s as well.

  “For one, I didn’t know it was possible,” Elora countered. “And besides, I wasn’t sure it would be a good idea. Before it probably wouldn’t have mattered much with so many people walking. Besides, it takes a lot of Chonk.”

  Elora had just finished explaining over breakfast that there might be a way to make the caravan move faster. After Hal told her about possibly consolidating enough space in the wagons for every person to ride at once, Elora mentioned an ability of Komachi’s that might be useful.

  By using Bamboozle: Hurry, Komachi could increase the movement speed of everybody within a certain radius. Elora assured them that it would be enough to include all the wagons and even the Kweh Gang’s karaks.

  But it wasn’t a flat increase, which meant a dwarf hurrying on the ground going 3 miles per hour was only going to go perhaps another mile faster. While a caravan moving at full speed - something they hadn’t been able to do in a long while - of about 12 miles per hour would be going nearly 4 miles per hour faster.

  “The downside,” Elora said, petting along Komachi’s sleek body, “is that it takes around four Chonk an hour. If she keeps it up for twelve hours that’s forty-eight points of Chonk per day.”

  “That doesn’t seem like a whole lot,” Angram said. “What’s the problem?”

  Elora motioned to the breakfast. “This gave her two points of Chonk.” Despite her size, Komachi ate at least twice as much as each of them did. And that wasn’t terribly abnormal.

  Hal wondered if there was a super-detailed version of the statistics screen. Would he see that Komachi took up three or more units of food per day compared to the single of anybody else?

  The idea was more than a little funny. And it made him glad there wasn’t a group of otter-like pobuls running around that ate as much as Komachi. Then again, he mused, their adorable chirps and squeaks would be welcomed.

  “So we need to feed her a lot,” Hal reasoned.

  “At least twice the amount she ate now and then do that… every hour,” Elora said, looking at each of their faces as they all understood the gravity of her words.

  Mira whistled. “That’s a lot of food.” She looked fondly at Komachi, like she was the most precious thing ever, and could do no wrong.

  “The quality and type matters too,” Elora elaborated. “A normal meal, one that’s sized for her properly is worth about one point of Chonk. A hearty meal is double that. Something similar to Ashera’s Endura Stew would be about four points on its own.”

  Angram stroked his chin with a thumb. “So what you’re saying is, if we had a master chef making quality food for Komachi, she’d get a lot more Chonk - that’s a ridiculous word, by the way - per meal?”

  “That’s right,” Elora answered. She bent down and kissed Komachi on the head. Her whiskers twitched.

  “Then it’s either quantity or quality,” Hal reasoned. “We can either give her several times the amount of simple fare that most of us eat for a meal. Or we can give her something special. I assume there’s a limit to how much she can eat. And that leaves us with finding a chef of high enough skill to make something of sufficient quality.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” Elora said. She scratched behind Komachi’s ears, the little pobul chirped and muttered something in her sleep. “She has favorites. Or rather preferences… it’s all a bit strange because it changes from day to day. Yesterday she wanted eggs. And looking at my Wildsmaster information, I saw that it would give her a 50% boost to her Chonk if she got what she wanted.”

  Mira looked at Elora flatly. “Are you saying Komachi has daily timers for her preferred food?”

  Elora shrugged.

  “Oh man, okay….” Mira rubbed her forehead and shook her head. “What about today then, what kind of food does she want?”

  “Fish,” Elora answered.

  “I think we have some salted and dried fish-” Ashera began but Elora was already shaking her head.

  “Fried fish,” she elaborated. “It… just changed.”

  Hal was certain there was something Elora wasn’t telling them. He couldn’t put his finger on it, though but he would not be surprised to learn that Komachi’s preferences changed simply because - even asleep - she didn’t like what Ashera had offered.

  “Okay so, fried fish,” Ashera said. “If you will excuse me, I will go and look.”

  “I know a dwarven baker,” Mira said, standing after watching Ashera leave. “Maybe he’ll know somebody who has some decent skill in cooking. Don’t get me wrong, Ashera’s food is wonderful. But I think we might need a professional to satisfy Komachi’s epic appetite.”

  Noth, who up until then had been silent and content to watch everything got up as well. “I will go find Rondo, he has made many connections among the Bouldergut Clansmen.”

  That left only Elora, Angram, and Hal at their customary table outside the wagon beneath the stretched out awning. Off to the side at another table, Luda was eating with her disciples, or whatever they called themselves. Seeing so many people leave Hal’s table she came over.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I couldn’t help but overhear that you are looking for a skilled chef. Is that right?”

  “Yeah,” Hal said. “Know anybody?”

  Luda pointed back at the older man with his hands folded contently over his non-existent belly with his eyes shut. “That is Horald,” Luda explained. “He was a master chef in the city he hails from. I am certain he would help if you asked him. Whatever the task.”

  “Thank you, Luda,” Hal said, getting up as well. Luda joined him as he walked over to the older man. “How have you been lately?”

  The small girl shrugged narrow shoulders. “I have been as well as-” Her sudden stop pulled Hal up short and he turned to look at her. Luda shook her red curls out. “I am sorry. I do not mean to sound so ungrateful. I am very well.”

  “Why did you say it like that?” Hal asked, concern threading his voice. He knew Luda didn’t appreciate being an Oracle. He could hardly blame her. It seemed a heavy burden to bear and one that he knew little about but could guess at how stifling it must be for a young girl like her.

  “Because I should be grateful,” she said, staring at her feet. “When I first found you, I expected the worst. Either we would be killed or sent on our way to die in the wilds. The slimmest hope was worth the assured death otherwise.

  “Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would still be alive after all that happened. Much less part of a burgeoning Guild with its sights set on creating a Sanctum. It is… all so very much and I should be blessing the ground you and your companions walk on for making this possible.

  “And yet, I am still bitter about my role in all this. A bystander who can do little else but try to stay as far out of your way as possible. My own appointed task, that of an Oracle, is not something I look forward to as… I have shared privately with you before. It is… hard not having anybo
dy to talk about this with.”

  Hal motioned to the campfire off to the side of their wagon. “I usually sit out here most nights late at night,” Hal explained to the questioning look Luda gave him. “Alone. I have offered this before but, if you find yourself troubled or just want a friendly ear you can speak your mind to, I’m here. And if you need some space to talk freely, well I’m sure a patrol around the perimeter of the wagons would do you good.”

  Your Leadership has risen to Level 24(29).

  +1% Party Damage (29%).

  +2% Leadership Efficacy (58%).

  Your Persuasion has risen to Level 15.

  +1% Persuasion Chance (15%).

  +0.5% Antagonistic Persuasion Chance (7.5%).

  +5% Reputation gain (+15%).

  -2% Reputation loss (-6%).

  Luda’s crystalline-blue eyes teared up a little and she shook her head. Her freckles stood out sharper against her red blushing cheeks. “You would do that?”

  Hal bit back the sarcastic reply, tempering his words with as much sincerity as he could inject into them. “Of course I would. The offer is a standing one,” he added. She hadn’t taken him up on his offer last time and this time Hal wanted to make sure she felt free to visit him whenever she needed.

  It was hard to imagine what could have happened to the girl to make her take such a simple gesture as willing to let her speak her mind as something so profound. Hal wasn’t offering her any solutions.

  He doubted there would be any guidance he could offer. He was barely eight years older than her, if that. She likely had more life experience than he did considering the way he lived on Earth. But he was willing to listen and not judge her.

  Perhaps there was some value in that.

  Together, they approached Horald who woke just as they arrived. The crystallized grass crunching below their feet would make it hard to sneak up on anybody in the camp.

  “What can I do ye for?” he asked, making a gesture toward the Oracle Hal didn’t recognize. From the way Luda straightened and inclined her head in acceptance, it was some sort of religious thing.

  Hal pulled up a chair to sit beside the man. He didn’t like standing over people, it made him feel uncomfortable. Like he was ordering people around. The notion didn’t sit well with him and probably never would.

  56

  Sitting next to Horald, Luda off to the side, Hal explained what he was looking for. What they needed if they were to hope to get to the Shiverglades sooner rather than later.

  He was clear to tell Horald that it was far from necessary and that his cooperation was strictly voluntary. While it would dramatically speed up their progress, there was no pressing need to reach the Shiverglades a week or more early.

  At least, no reason that Hal knew. They had plenty of food stores and supplies for the trip. The benefit of getting there sooner would be the ability to find and set up a camp before winter came on in full.

  The further along they were in building the settlement when the current season of autumn transitioned into the chill of winter, the better. But a few days wouldn’t make a massive difference.

  Clear as he was to explain this, Horald nearly jumped out of his seat and gave an awkward salute; a fist over his heart. “Whatever task ye set me to, I’ll do it with a full heart and a smile, my Lord.”

  “Please don’t call me that,” Hal said, shaking his head.

  Horald looked at Luda, then at Hal in confusion. “Ain’t ye planning on making a new settlement?”

  “Yes.”

  “And ye going to be leading the development of said settlement?” Horald pressed.

  “…Yes.” Hal didn’t like where this was going.

  “And I reckon it’s in an area beset by beasts and monsters alike. Ain’t no place that’s settled already, am I right?”

  Hal nodded.

  “They got a word for that, ye know,” he said with an exaggerated wink and a chuckle. “But if ye prefer not to use it, far be it from me to deny it to ye.” Horald ambled over to one of the supply wagons, but as he passed Hal he turned around and offered a crooked smile at him. His watery blue eyes twinkling with mirth. “At least, for as long as yer subjects allow it. That day’ll come, don’t ye doubt.”

  Luda looked at Hal’s questioning gaze and merely shrugged. “He isn’t wrong,” she said as they turned to follow Horald. “Though the dwarves don’t speak of it much, we all know there’s a thin line between Founder and Lord. Or King, whatever title you like.”

  “I don’t really want any of them,” Hal answered honestly. He wanted a safe place, a haven for those who, like him, just wanted a home. Of course, he wanted his home to be fair and egalitarian. It was his home after all and he wouldn’t want to make the same mistakes so many others would.

  But that didn’t mean he wanted to rule over people.

  The conversation with Noth replayed in his head. While he thought she was talking hypothetically, about a future that might never come true, Hal wasn’t so sure anymore.

  After hearing what Horald, and now Luda had to say about the matter… he was starting to feel like the matter was already settled for him.

  With a heavy sigh, Hal approached the stack of crates and barrels they kept most of their food in. Durvin was already there talking to a small black-bearded dwarf with a notepad. Tiny golden spectacles perched awkwardly on his askew nose that had been obviously broken many times in the past.

  “This the lad?” the dwarf asked Durvin, pointing a thumb Hal’s way.

  “That it is,” Durvin said with a snort. “ Don’t ye know yer own Guildmaster when ye see him ye dolt?”

  The other dwarf scratched his beard awkwardly. “Always got me nose in the ledgers, ye see…”

  “Bah!” Durvin said, smacking the dwarf hard on the shoulder. “Excuses don’t sit pretty on a dwarf!” Durvin motioned to the bespectacled dwarf again. “This here is Athagan Ashbrow, he looks after the other dwarfs and their goods. Go on, boy, show him what ye showed me with the Guild thingy.”

  Hal brought up his Guild Menu and found Athagan Ashbrow, granting him the permission necessary to see the detailed statistics just as the Council could.

  Athagan’s silver eyes widened and his spectacles nearly slipped off his nose. “Ye weren’t just blowin’ smoke up me bum!” he bellowed at Durvin, setting the dwarven leader to roar with laughter. “I thought ye were tryin’ ta give me bum hairs a wee lil’ twist!”

  That made the two dwarves laugh all the harder. Horald was off to the side, looking over the crates full of food and spices. He looked up when the two dwarves started to laugh, shook his head and went back to searching.

  “Are they usually like this?” Luda asked quietly.

  “If we’re lucky,” Hal said, a smile plastered across his face. The antics of dwarves were nothing short of amusing.

  After a few minutes went by, Hal cleared his throat to get the attention of Athagan. “What do you think?”

  The dwarf made a dismissive motion with his hand. “If we can use all three hunnerd spaces ye got, I can empty four wagons worth o’ trouble. Ye look closely at these here Guild Banks?”

  Hal shook his head. Aside from a cursory glance and placing a few items he was saving for the Guild as a whole, he didn’t examine them in any detail. Not yet at least.

  “Ye ken how expanded space works?” Athagan asked Hal, hands on his wide squat hips.

  “Bigger on the inside,” Hal said. “Some of them even reduce the weight of the items within right?”

  “Most do,” Athagan said with a pleased nod. “The good ones reduce the weight to nothin’. Ye can’t very well have any weight if there ain’t nothin’ inside to weigh!” At Hal’s confused expression he shook his hairy mane of black hair.

  “The best create a tiny lil’ pocket dimension. A lightless, airless place unless ye be makin’ it differently. Preserves most things for a good long time - even by dwarf standards! - but seein’ how that pocket dimension ain’t in our dimension, there ain’
t no weight for the bag to get weighed down. Yer Guild Bank works the same way, but much more secure I reckon.”

  “Does that mean what I think it does?” Hal asked, his expression brightening.

  “Yer durned right it does!” Durvin bellowed. “Any dwarf not rightly workin’ at the moment is to get on the task of emptyin’ out the supplies into the Guild Bank.” He turned to Hal. “Ye get them Guild Chests out too and we’ll have three drop-offs for the stuff. We’ll get going a few hours later today but with every soul seated in their wagon comfortably and the wagons weighin’ a good deal less we’ll make up for it with our new speed!”

  Hal summoned not only the Guild Bank but the Guild Chests as well after checking on Vorax and informing him of the decision. The mimic, of course, insisted on keeping a watchful eye over the Guild Bank to which Hal agreed.

  With Vorax, watching over the proceedings as an opulent fourth gold-and-gem-studded chest, Hal turned to Horald. Together, they worked out what he would need to make the highest quality meal they could give to Komachi.

  The morning was a busy, hectic one with people rushing to and fro. Mira struck out with her chef but her dwarven baker friend was more than happy to make something special for Komachi.

  As was the chef that Rondo found within the dwarven ranks. Each of them pitched their ideas for wonderful dishes - things that they had ingredients for of course - and each one seemed to be trying to outdo the other chef.

  With all the commotion within the camp, Komachi was awake and listening intently to each of the mouth-watering dishes, little paws absentmindedly fussing with a lock. It kept clacking as she failed to get it open. Every day Komachi would fuss with the large stone coffer she and Elora dragged back into camp on Komachi’s first day.

  And every day she failed to get it to open. Much to her squonking and grumbling dismay.

  It almost seemed like she was bending the rules because every new dish offered was another “favorite” that would earn 50% more Chonk.