Beastborne

by James T Callum

  A lot of it.

  By using Shae’kathoth’s soul, his Dominate Sigil would be twice as powerful, increasing its already extensive 25 limit to 50. Of course, the EXP requirement would double as well. There was no getting around that.

  But being able to command 50 of the enemy and turn them against their fellows could be the very thing that turns the tide of battle.

  They passed through multiple gates of wrought mythril, the silvery-green metal swung open when Hal depressed a hidden switch in the wall. They shut again behind them, but he knew how to open them.

  As they came out into the pale, colorless light of a new day, Noth put a hand on Hal’s shoulder. From their vantage point, the caravan vanished behind a screen of trees leaving the valley in a state of pure untouched nature.

  “Our new home is beautiful,” she said softly. When Hal turned to her, she smiled. “You need to get some sleep.”

  A thin smile creased his lips and he looked out onto the valley, agreeing wholeheartedly with Noth. It was beautiful. And it would be even more beautiful once they no longer had to worry about being attacked.

  It was all well and good to plan and prepare. And maybe just maybe, Hal could make a difference in the creation of buildings or their placement. But that wasn’t where his skills lay.

  In fact, if he was being honest with himself, the whole trek to the Shiverglades had put him in a sort of limbo. Where he needed to act like a leader but wasn’t able to necessarily grow like one.

  Compared to the short period of time he spent in the Coffin District, his skills and Levels had stagnated. While pushing himself like that would be suicidal at best in the Shiverglades, he could go out with the Rangers and at least get some much-needed EXP.

  Like many other members of the caravan, his skills were lacking compared to where he imagined they would be. But they had a rare opportunity to explore and set the battlefield before them.

  Resolved to delegate more responsibilities for overseeing the construction of the Settlement, Hal set off down the tiered slopes leading up and into the mountain.

  He had to trust Orrittam’s word that nothing would attack him from behind. Despite the obvious gains the dragon would have from lying to him and pillaging his Settlement, he found he believed the gold-scaled creature.

  Vorax was in agreement that Orrittam Shimmerscales was an ally and a friend. Somebody that they could rely on, even if the giant dragon wasn’t able to directly assist in the fighting - and what a shame that was! - he still had valuable information to give.

  His crafting stations were quite advanced as well, and though he didn’t bring it up Hal hoped that the dragon would be receptive to a select few people using them. The makeshift forges the dwarves and koblins created in the caravans were far from efficient. If he could get a few of the most accomplished crafters to use those stations, they might be able to make superior weapons or items that normally they couldn’t make at their current Settlement Level.

  With any luck, they could leapfrog a full Settlement Level by having access to things they would normally have to build piecemeal.

  As the caravan came into view, Hal had to remind himself that such things were in the future. Right now he had to look to the present. His future - and the future of the entire Settlement - consisted of nothing more than the next seven days.

  82

  Hal veered away from the sight of the caravan, drawing confusion from his friends.

  “Hal?” Noth called after him. “Where are you going?”

  He looked over his shoulder at her and gave a tired smile. “Something I should have done at the same time I planted the Manaseed. It might not change the next week, but over time I hope it will help us.”

  Curious, Vorax scooted and hopped along the grass toward Hal. His entourage of koblins followed but Noth, with her long legs, reached him first.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, concern written plain across her face.

  After fishing in his inventory a second, Hal held up a small collection of dark oval seeds the size of grapes. “These are Treant Seeds. I also have Treant Cuttings and Wortling Cuttings. If I plant these in the soil here, it should grow the monstrous plants. My hope is I can cultivate them to help us. Without having to use my Founder Sigils.”

  “Where are you going to plant them?” she asked, still following his measured strides. “You clearly have a place in mind.”

  He did indeed. The one place he felt that would help the fledgling plants to thrive in the cold environs of the Shivergaldes. The very heart of their Settlement and furthermore, the one place he hoped that would convert the monsters into something more.

  Allies.

  “I’m going to plant them near the Manaseed.”

  “Do you think its influence will change them for the better?”

  “I don’t know, Noth. But it’s worth a shot I think. Beyond that, it might help them grow faster or be stronger. Who knows? But I’m finally in a place I can plant them and I mean to do so.”

  It didn’t take them long to reach the site of the Manaseed. Already the green shoot of the tree was knee-high and as thick around as Hal’s wrist. Amazing progress in such a short time.

  Taking the materials out of his bag, Hal walked a respectful distance away from the Manaseed, about two-hundred feet, and began to plant the [Wortling Cuttings] which still resembled the limbs of the Wortlings Hal had once commanded.

  In a weird way, he still missed them. And he wondered whatever happened to that last Wortling. He had always expected it to come back with a horde of its fellows, its parent Worttree furious at Hal’s theft and looking for revenge.

  Instead… nothing happened. He never saw the Wortling or any sign of it again and for some reason that Hal couldn’t understand, that made him sad. He’d miss Stumpy most of all and some small irrationally human part of him hoped that the creature was still out there, alive and free.

  But of course, that was ridiculous.

  Hal took his time, even giving some seeds out to the koblins and Noth to plant in a wide circle around the Manaseed. Far enough away that he hoped any nutrients they might take would not cost the Manaseed. Yet close enough that the Manaseed might have a strong influence on their growth.

  In total, Hal and his friends planted 7 [Treant Seeds], 3 [Wortling Cuttings], and a single [Bag of Treant Cuttings].

  The cuttings would grow fastest. And thanks to the unique magic of Expanded Space, the long journey to the Shiverglades didn’t harm the plants one bit. He breathed a sigh of relief when he still saw green leaves on the treant cuttings.

  Wiping the dirt from his hands onto his pants, Hal shivered at the cold fog that rolled around his ankles. “I need a warm bed,” Hal said around a jaw-creaking yawn.

  Noth cast him a wry grin. “For three hours of sleep?”

  Without missing a beat Hal said, “Maybe I’ll treat myself and get four.”

  Slap.

  Slap. Slap.

  Slap. Slap. Slap.

  Elora started awake just as Komachi’s tail slapped across her face again. The little pobul was head-first tucked in under the covers and resting on Elora’s chest. But her tail draped across her shoulder and occasionally would swish across her face.

  Unfortunately, Komachi’s tail was quite thick, and rather than a soft batting it was a hefty slap each time it passed over her face.

  “I’m up,” she groaned, reaching down into the covers and pulling the sweet pobul out. She knew Komachi was awake, just as Komachi knew that Elora knew.

  Their familiar bond made it hard for the tricky little otter to pull a fast one over Elora. Still, that didn’t stop Komachi from pretending to be a particularly fluffy and dense pillow as Elora held her aloft.

  She rose out of her bunk with ease, still holding Komachi with both hands and slipped out of her bunk. She would be so glad for a little privacy. Her bare feet touched the cold floorboards and she quickly went behind the dividing curtain between the driver’s seat and the wagon that serve
d as a dressing area.

  Without ever setting Komachi down, Elora stripped out of her old clothes and into her freshly laundered [Huntsman Outfit]. The increased Insulation made a big difference.

  Tucking Komachi into her armor and lacing up the jacket to keep her snug in there, Elora paused on her way out of the wagon. Mira was half out of her bunk, snoring like a drunkard. Hal and Noth were nowhere to be seen.

  That Hal was gone was little surprise. He rarely seemed to sleep anymore. It was more than a trifle troubling. She thought it was just the stress of leadership but the longer their trip went the less he slept.

  I’ll need to talk to Ashera about it.

  With so much to do, she didn’t blame him. He had come far since the young man she rescued in the woods. Farther than she could have ever hoped. All too soon Elora’s dream was about to become a reality. A Sanctum, a safe haven for those living under the oppressive rule of Rinbast.

  She still couldn’t believe it.

  Even with the threat of an attack looming, she could hardly stop the smile that crept onto her face. A smile, she told herself, that had nothing to do with Ashera’s angelically peaceful slumbering expression.

  Forcing herself away from her best friend, Elora left the wagon and was immediately greeted by the smell of a hearty dwarven breakfast. Hoping to get a jump on the day, she walked over to the cookfire and waited in line for some breakfast.

  As she did, she stuck a finger down her jacket which was promptly grabbed by Komachi’s surprisingly strong and dexterous little paw. “Well,” Elora said with a smile. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “Sleepeh,” Komachi grumped. “Too cold.”

  Elora’s smile turned into a concerned frown. “I know sweetie. We’ll get some breakfast and then do something about that Quest all right?”

  Komachi yawned and pulled Elora’s finger closer to her curled up form inside the Wildsmaster’s jacket. Her whiskery cheek nuzzled Elora’s hand. “Komachi believes in you.”

  It was enough to nearly make the battle-hardened woman cry.

  There was such an overwhelming flood of trust and hope in those four words through their bond that she was almost knocked off her feet. Elora looked at the Quest she received shortly after coming into the heart of the Shiverglades.

  Quest: Kold, Kold Komachi.

  Komachi is cold. As her Wildsmaster, it is your solemn duty to make sure your familiar is comfortable and battle-ready. You can dismiss them to their own pocket dimension but it will not stop their discomfort whenever they join you on the material plane. As a pobul, Komachi is not used to the frigid climes of the Shiverglades. Find some way to warm her up and keep her that way.

  Objectives

  Warm Komachi up and keep her warmed up.

  Rewards

  +2 Familiar Handling.

  1,500 Experience Points.

  After getting a double helping of breakfast, Elora struck off to the wagon Hal had told her about. Apparently, Hal had already talked to one of the dwarves who might be able to help her.

  She knew he meant well and wanted to help but there was already so much he was dealing with. And more to the point, this was Elora’s task. Not Hal’s. She was grateful for the help but she did not want to add to the man’s already considerable list of tasks.

  No sooner had she knocked than a ruddy dwarven face poked out. His watery blue eyes squinted at her. “Aye?”

  “I heard you’re fairly talented at Weaving,” Elora said.

  “Might’n I be,” he hedged, still not opening the door to the wagon all the way.

  Elora shook her head. The ease at which Hal interacted with the dwarves was startling. They seemed to accept him with open arms. Elora had no idea how he did it.

  Thankfully, she had a secret weapon.

  Pulling Komachi out of her jacket, she cradled the sweet furry creature in her arms. “I need something for my familiar, for Komachi.” The pobul clung to Elora’s arm with all four limbs, and quietly chirped a greeting to the dwarf.

  As was usual, the dwarf’s eyes lit up when he saw the adorable thing. Komachi’s charms never failed. And if they did, they didn’t fail for long.

  In a short amount of time, Elora was let inside the warm interior of the wagon where Komachi could snooze comfortably warm in the surprisingly heated interior. She loafed on the table near the [Heating Shard], a red piece of ensorcelled [Shardite] suspended on a metal tripod that heated the whole room.

  “The bossman’s already given me some material to work with,” the weaver mentioned, rooting around in a chest and pulling out a strange bolt of black stardusted material. “Says it’s a new creation o’ his, Starsilk or sommat.”

  The black material didn’t fit Komachi, Elora looked at it curiously then the weaver. “Can it be dyed?”

  The glint in the weaver’s eye was enough of an answer on its own. “Aye, lass. If yer willin’ to do the huntin’ I’ll make it any durned color o’ the rainbow ye like.”

  Elora walked over to Komachi and pet her gently. The little pobul rumbled soothingly showing her contentment. Warm affection flooded through their bond for Elora. As badly as Elora wanted to leave Komachi in the warm room where she would be comfortable, the pobul wouldn’t accept it.

  That was part of what made the whole affair so frustrating.

  Komachi wanted to be warm but refused to stay somewhere warm if Elora wasn’t there. And so, with Elora needing to find some dying ingredients, she would have to stuff Komachi back in her jacket and take her along.

  Halfway out the door, Komachi nestled in her jacket, she paused and turned. Her eyes fell upon the red glowing crystal. “Who made that?”

  An idea came to her then. One that, if she was right, might solve more than just her problem.

  83

  Elaise landed lightly on the balls of her feet. The 50-foot drop hardly slowed her forward momentum. She bounded over moss-covered downed logs, swerved around frosted pools of dark water, and picked her way across the swift moving rivers that had only begun to gather ice at their banks.

  The very air was different here. Primal. As one of the Ebon Star Tribe, Elaise had called the Shiverglades home her entire life. But never had she traveled so far into their heart.

  That Hal and his Bravers Tribe had chosen this place as their home was beyond brash. It bordered on suicidal. And the Shiverglades had told them in no uncertain terms that they were not welcome.

  At least he is not a coward, she mused, landing so softly among the cold grass that she made scarcely a whisper of sound.

  Time would tell whether he was an idiot or brave beyond his means. Elaise had seen nothing of the power the Warleader seemed to find so impressive. But from the way the others spoke about him, there was something more to Hal than even her keen gaze could detect.

  That they had a pobul - a pobul of all things! - in their midst spoke volumes for the Bravers. And they had no idea the miraculous gift in their midst. Elaise wanted to whisk the pobul away from such uncivilized people.

  But she had a meeting to attend with the Warleader. And her duties to her Tribe always came first.

  Elaise climbed a colossal tree as easily as if she walked on flat ground. From its lowest boughs - nearly 30 feet off the ground - she spied a creature of blue fog with brilliant sapphire eyes enter the clearing.

  Of course, the Warleader would go nowhere without protection or caution.

  It looked straight at her, despite her incredibly high Stealth and skill with choosing the best position. And then it turned away, vanishing into faint blue wisps.

  Elaise was down from the tree and running through that wispy trail in a twinkling. She followed it through the twists and turns of the Shiverglades, glad that the Warleader had come at the appointed hour.

  Even if she saw fit to change the meeting location. As if the savages that came to their land could follow her. It was almost insulting how much concern and caution the Warleader heaped on this band of misfits.

  “Tell me e
verything,” Aleya said at the exact moment Elaise broke into the small glade. The Standing Stones decorated the perimeter, ancient weathered things of a bygone era. Their runes gave off a dull blue glow of power despite being festooned with choking weeds and vines.

  And so, as was her place in this affair, Elaise told Warleader Aleya Starsong everything she saw. Everything she thought, and many things she did not find important or notable.

  Those, of course, would be the most interesting things to the Warleader. Why, Elaise could never quite figure out. But she seemed to divine the most important meanings from the more mundane affairs.

  But even the Warleader could not stop herself from showing surprise when Elaise informed her of the pobul. She shifted her dark furs, quickly covering the slip.

  “A pobul. You speak truly?” Aleya asked.

  “Yes, Warleader. I saw the divine being with my own two eyes. I was even… granted permission to pet the honored-one known as Komachi.” Elaise lowered her eyes, focusing on the green grass at her feet. When winter came in full, these glades would remain green and lush. They were a marvel of an earlier time. A time when pobuls roamed Aldim.

  A time before the Drowning.

  “Raise your eyes, child,” Aleya said with a hint of mirth. “You do me no dishonor for having been chosen first among us. A pobul chooses as a pobul wills. To hold grudge or resentment is folly. That does not mean I am not envious, but I am glad for your contact with her.”

  “Should we rescue her, Warleader?”

  “Do you doubt the will of a pobul?” Aleya asked, her voice taking on a sharp edge. “This is the first of its kind to return to Aldim in over five centuries. Longer, even. Do you doubt that they would be anywhere but precisely where they wish to be? They are the movers of the stars. The aligners of planets. If this burgeoning Tribe knows aught of her, then that is for the better.”