“How’re you going to get back to her?” he asked, noticing the fine chain that was on her little otter head and the small red chip of [Shardite] that rested on her forehead.
“Komachi got her ways,” she said in the most enigmatic way possible.
Hal started to get up but Komachi put one paw on his chin and he froze, looking at her questioningly.
“I got some bamboozlin’ to do. We will be back soon, tell moo-girl not to worry.” Komachi punctuated her words with a sweet soft chirp and a surprisingly gentle touch on Hal’s cheek. “You worry too much. I give the good slep.”
“Don’t you mean sleep?” Hal replied.
Komachi grinned and said, “Nope.” Right before a wave of magic rolled out from her.
It smothered Hal in soothing comfort. Deep relaxation settled into his bones, making his muscles jelly. He couldn’t have been tense if he tried. Within seconds he was falling down a dark tunnel toward dreamless oblivion.
The last thing he saw was Komachi turn herself around on his chest and inadvertently smack him across the face with her thick furry tail as she snickered to herself, “Gonna bamboozle me a box.”
Vorax’s latest exploits left him tired and a bit drained. Being given a task from Hal to find and try to recruit monsters, however, was deeply important. And it necessitated that he spent most of his time outside of the comforting range of Hal and his fledgling town.
Monsters were typically crepuscular if not totally nocturnal. As a mimic, Vorax didn’t much care whether it was day or night. He didn’t need light to see by, after all.
After another fruitless day of wandering the hidden nooks and crannies likely to hold monsters, Vorax - with a pair of koblins that could be spared from their duties at the wall - returned to the caravan empty-handed. Again.
Failing was not a common event in Vorax’s life. And it felt twice as bad knowing that Hal was counting on him to find more allies. Whatever was coming was bad. Vorax could feel it in his gold banding.
They would need allies and more besides if they were to survive whatever the Shiverglades were sending against them.
Hopping along, Vorax said goodbye to the koblin pair who once more heaped upon him multitudinous praise and ridiculously honorific names. Most of which, by this point, Vorax learned to tune out.
It wasn’t very easy to track the subtle emanations of various monsters - most of which were trying very hard to stay hidden! - while being distracted by things like “His Splendiferous Right Angled Holdiness,” and, “Box Gloriousness of the Havior’s Illuminating Soul.”
“Shash, shaa!” Vorax said, knowing the koblins would understand his goodbye. With a final wave of his purple tendril, he turned and began to hop toward Hal’s wagon, eager for some rest and relaxation.
The fires had burned down low and only a few guards were pacing about. Most people were tired and slept deeply. Those that could be spared did double-duty as guards, often rotating Rangers and dwarves in and out.
More than a few monster incursions had already happened. Minor fights that were put down before they could be much of an issue but they were beginning to happen with increasing regularity.
Enough, that Vorax thought it was prudent to warn Hal about. The Shiverglades was growing restless and it would send its minions at Hal and his people long before the true test of their defenses came.
If anybody had noticed the increase in monster activity, Vorax didn’t hear about it. He needed to rest his lid for an hour or so, recover some HP from that nasty spill he took bouncing down the rocky escarpment to the west, then he would talk to Hal.
Considering that, much like Vorax, Hal didn’t really need to sleep. And if he did, it was short, the mimic had every confidence that he would be able to catch his best friend before he started his day.
That was, until his senses suddenly picked up something strange.
Vorax was fairly tired and distracted, so he didn’t notice it immediately. That was unlike him. He hopped about, focusing on the monstrous emanation.
It resolved itself slowly at first. As he focused, his sense of alarm quickly shifted to intrigue. It was another mimic!
Not just any other mimic, a girl mimic.
Paying no mind to what a girl mimic - a treasuregorger at that - was doing on the outskirts of the caravan, Vorax hopped and bounced gaily toward her. He ran his purple tongue over his lid in an attempt to smooth it and give it a nice glossy sheen.
He shuffled and bounced as he came closer to her beautifully robust boxiness. Vorax sent out a friendly empathetic connection but curiously felt nothing there.
Not to be deterred, the mimic came a little closer and shimmied about enticingly. Hoping to draw the shy mimic out of her coy state, he opened his lid, and with his long purple tongue pulled out a pile of gold trinkets in offering.
Vorax danced about for a while more and when that didn’t work, he set the treasure down in front of the mimic a respectful ten feet away. “Shahshahl,” he intoned, hoping that an attempt to greet her would woo the delicate thing.
So she’s playing hard to get, he thought. Time to break out the ol’ reliable.
Lifting his tongue high in the air, Vorax created complicated shapes with the long purple appendage. Smaller, purple tendrils slipped themselves free of their velvety confines and wriggled in the air above him.
He rolled the appendages in an intricate dance, and when that didn’t work he moved on to a more direct approach. He formed several lewd gestures with the waggling appendages, the likes of which would make any proper mimic’s banding blush copper.
It was about that time that Vorax noticed something was off. The mimic wasn’t moving, didn’t respond in any normal way he would expect. Pulling the treasure back inside, he hopped vigorously about the mimic.
And only when he was within a foot or two did he realize his mistake. What he thought was a mimic was, in fact, nothing more than a shapely pile of wood set aside for campfire use.
Vorax swore he heard snickering somewhere in the distance, but it was beyond his range of sensing to see who it was and if it was directed at him.
Gathering his broken bits of pride, Vorax turned about and made a beeline for Hal’s wagon. It was dark out. Nobody saw him, and even if they did they did not understand the ways of a mimic to know how utterly foolish he just was.
Only Hal would understand that Vorax had just made a right bucket of himself. And only then if the mimic decided to tell the man. Which, he most definitely did not wish to.
Some secrets were worth taking to the great boxy beyond.
Eager to rest and move past this most recent ordeal, Vorax hopped up the stairs to the wagon and let himself in with a tendril. The door swung open quietly and the mimic let himself in.
Once inside he caught the distinct sensation of Komachi.
And suddenly everything fit into place.
But as he settled in underneath Hal’s bunk, he couldn’t dredge up any anger at the pobul. She was, by her very nature, a trickster god-thing. And in the end, nobody was really hurt by it.
Tasting the air, Vorax could taste Komachi’s salt-water taffy flavored magic lingering about. So it would seem that Hal also was on the receiving end of Komachi’s trickery.
As Vorax settled in for a bit of shut-lid, he strangely felt better knowing that they both had been bamboozled. Not that he forgave Komachi. Maybe she couldn’t help her ways, but that didn’t mean Vorax was going to let this slide.
Oh no. A mimic always pays his dues. And so, as he drifted off to dream of scantily clad mimics in delicate - slightly revealing - bands of platinum and mythril, he thought of ways to trick the trickster.
96
“Where does she go?” Elaise asked. Her Common was getting better, Elora thought.
The Ranger shrugged and looked around the dark marshy forest. If not for the frigid temperature, the ground would be soggy and wet. Instead, it was the strangest mix of slush and mud. And yet, somehow, there was an abundance of green
ery.
“Before we go any further,” Elora explained, hands on her hips, “I wanted to let the others know where I was and that I was safe. The last thing they can ill-afford to do is set up a search party to come looking for me. If what you said is true, they will need all the defenses and strength they can get.”
The towering woman nodded gravely. Elora still wasn’t sure why she was helping them. This clearly went above and beyond anything Elaise was tasked with doing.
She had seen them safely to their destination, provided them with the means to combat the Shiverglade’s insidious voidmist, but she still desired to help. Why?
That was the question. More than anything, that made Elora agree to help the woman. She took it upon herself to be Hal’s guardian, and she would protect him against all threats. Especially leggy beauties that popped out of the marshlands with gifts and guidance.
Elora didn’t believe in giving something away for free. Elaise wanted something, or else there was an ulterior motive the wily Wildsmaster hadn’t been able to suss out just yet.
But she would.
“The Blessing yet lingers,” Elaise said, studying Elora. “Your tribe is interesting.”
Elora had explained many times that they were not a tribe, but the woman clearly decided she wasn’t going to understand. She was right about one thing, though.
The Manaseed’s blessing was still protecting her. A faint sheen of pale light reflected off her skin, giving it a luminous glow when she looked at it from just the right angle.
Much like the barbarian’s tattoos that swirled across her bare skin, the protection from the Manaseed repelled the voidmist. Those dangerous dark tendrils that snaked through the mist.
Elaise had been less than forthcoming about them, proclaiming what amounted to base superstition. The representation of some evil that yet lingers in the Shiverglades, or the “Black Lands” as she called this place.
When Elora had first agreed to go along with her, the woman seemed prepared to give Elora the same markings she held. Elora gathered that was fairly taboo considering she wasn’t part of the Ebonstar Tribe.
Things must be dire indeed for Elaise to break so many of her vaunted tribe’s protocols. She certainly didn’t seem keen on sharing it with her and Elora knew well enough that the woman had a satisfactory command of Common to get her point across if she wanted.
She hoped that it wouldn’t be a long trek. Already, several hours after leaving the safety of the Settlement, the Manaseed’s protection seemed paler than before.
Elora brought up the single prompt she had for it.
Blessing of the Manaseed.
The protective magicks of your Settlement’s Manaseed is preventing the corrosive effects of noxblight corruption.
Elaise had no idea what this “noxblight” was, though it was easy enough to guess it was the voidmist.
All it meant for Elora was that people could venture away from the Settlement but not for long. How long, she couldn’t tell. Given Elaise’s earlier offer to mark her in a similar fashion, she expected that if the blessing failed Elaise would offer once again.
Elora, never appreciating to be in another’s debt, hoped that their business would be concluded by then.
Komachi had told her that it would be an hour or more for her to return to the Settlement by “secret pobul ways, stop asking how.”
Elora wanted to avoid setting a campfire but the barbarian insisted after they found a small hollow to camp within that the woman assured was safe. Why one place would be safe and not another, Elora had no idea.
The entirety of the Shiverglades was foreign and alien to her. It set her teeth on edge. A Wildsmaster was still a Ranger and it was in her very job description to be skilled in the wild lands such as these.
And yet she felt like a veritable babe in the woods.
Meanwhile, the barbarian sauntered about with her strange markings and her stranger ways of disappearing from sight - despite Elora’s high Perception and Darkvision - one minute then reappearing in a different location the next.
Elaise gathered a bunch of moss patches, arranging them like one might arrange firewood. “I can help with that,” Elora said. “I’m rather skilled with setting camp.”
The barbarian looked up at her, snorted, and said, “No. This different. You will draw monsters.”
With a sigh, Elora slumped to the ground and sat cross-legged on the other side of what would be the campfire.
Where was that sweet but troublesome pobul?
Despite Elaise’s idolization of Komachi, the woman hardly seemed bothered by her absence. “What do you know of pobuls?” Elora decided to ask after a long bout of silence. The campfire was set up but not lit, Elaise seemed to be praying in front of it.
“Much more than you,” she said at length.
Suppressing a childish eye-roll, Elora plowed on. “She is precious to me, you know. But I know very little about her or her kind. Why are there no others here? She has… magic that no other creature I have ever seen has. It’s almost as if she… games the System.”
Elaise looked up, catching her eye and grinning. “This is unsurprising.”
“Why?” Elora asked with such fierceness that Elaise was not the only one taken aback by her sudden need to know.
The barbarian fell into a deep crouch and settled her forearms on her knees, watching Elora intently with those chips of ice-blue eyes. She let out a beleaguered sigh. “Pobuls magical.” She tried to motion with her hands, fumbled whatever she was doing and stopped with a grumble.
“I know pobuls are magical,” Elora said, trying to be patient.
“No, you not understand. Pobuls magic.” When Elora didn’t seem to gasp at this revelation Elaise clicked her tongue. “Pobuls. Magic.”
“Gods help me,” Elora muttered under her breath. “Saying it louder and slower isn’t going to make me understand it any better!”
“Pobuls ancient being. Long ago. Know Worldshard, yes? Pobuls older than Worldshards.”
“What is a Worldshard?” Elora asked.
Elaise muttered something that sounded like “fangrah” and then took a deep breath to calm herself. “This world? You understand world not flat, yes? Round like ball. Please know this. I cannot. You savages. So dumb.”
Elora grit her teeth. This woman was somehow managing to talk down to her while in broken Common only, which made it worse. It was like a child telling you how dumb you were. “Yes, the world is round,” Elora agreed. “What does that have to do with a Worldshard?”
A look of supreme surprise and yet relief washed over Elaise’s features. Elora felt a vein pulse in annoyance on her forehead.
“Is surprise savages know this. Yet not know Worldshard. Savage knowledge like bog cheese, full of holes and smell bad too. Worldshard is at heart of world. Worldshard die, world die. You understand?”
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Elora nodded and motioned for her to continue.
“Worldshards provide rules. Many Worldshard exist. Many worlds with different rules. You born on Aldim, yes? You live by Aldim Worldshard rules. Hal, not born on Aldim. Lives by other Worldshard rules, come here, now live by Aldim Worldshard rules.”
As she spoke, Elaise drew in the soft loamy earth unheeding of the cold. She drew one world, then another, illustrating her point. “But… translation error. Hal already have different rules branded on soul. Aldim Worldshard adapts. Is part reason Hal strong fast. But he still live by Aldim Worldshard rules.”
“Pobuls,” Elaise began, drawing another shape far outside of the realm of the two worlds. “Born before the Worldshards. Before order. Belong to ancient creatures known as Soul Aeder. Incorruptible. Pure.” She drew a fair approximation of Komachi with great reverence in her blue eyes.
“Pobuls obey Worldshards because respect. Pobuls knew Worldshard creators. Komachi is pobul. Older than many, I think. Her magic strange, yes? That because she try to mold Pobul Magic to Worldshard rules. Many translation error. Look st
range, feel strange. But very powerful.”
Elora nodded along. If what Elaise was saying was correct, then that made a lot of sense all of a sudden. If Komachi was trying to adapt her magic to Aldim’s Worldshard, then that would explain a lot.
From how Komachi could alter her stats at will to how she was - over time at least - able to more closely mimic the magic Elora was familiar with. That meant she hadn’t been mistaken when she saw Komachi literally grab a notification window and shake it about like a dirty piece of laundry.
It also meant….
Elora looked up, eyes wide. The barbarian grinned and nodded. “You start understanding.”
“Does that mean Komachi is a God?” Elora asked, realization dawning on her. What else would you call a being that superseded the rules of a world? That could manipulate them with the ease of a toddler molding putty?
Am I the familiar? It was truly a disturbing thought.
97
“Yes, and no,” Elaise said. She took out a small seed pod and held it up to the moss patches stacked in a pyramid. “Shield eyes.”
Elora barely parsed what Elaise said before she raised her hand at just the right time. Elaise pinched the seed pod and a flash of brilliant white fire shot out into the moss lighting it afire.
A wave of heat flooded over her, chasing the chill that had begun to gnaw at the edges of her limbs. There were limitations to the heated shardite creation she had made. But standing near the flames, she could feel the small chip of [Shardite] on her forehead gather the heat like the dry sands soaked up water.
“Is not God, but god-like,” Elaise explained. “Powerful but innocent. Soul Aeder poor rulers. They…” He stroked her chin idly, trying to think of the word. “What is word for too kind?”
“Naïve?”
“Yes, naïve. Soul Aeder not understand darkness that in the heart of mortals. They know love. Affection. Tenderness. Worldshards that darken, become too dangerous or lack love? Soul Aeder abandon. Is why Aldim no longer with Soul Aeder.”
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