Beastborne- Mark of the Founder

by James T Callum

  Shadow made material stood in her place, fuzzy and indistinct but in the vague shape of a tall and disturbingly thin man with arms far too long to be human.

  “Looks a little like Slenderman,” Hal remarked.

  Thirty-seven looked at him. “You know, that bothered me for the longest time. I knew he looked familiar but couldn’t place it. You start to forget pop culture like that after a while here.” He rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “I realized then that Shae’kathoth was the bigger threat.”

  The memory of Thirty-seven lashed out but Shae’kathoth was too quick. Its long and slender arms whipped out to attack but the Paladin bashed one aside and used his shining blade to push the other harmlessly wide.

  They fought in the tunnels for a long while. Holy blasts of mana rocking the ground, breaking the hardened stone with its deep warding grooves. It was clear that the creature was too powerful to be put down easily.

  With Thirty-seven’s armor, the creature had a difficult time making contact with his skin. Something that Thirty-seven was keen to prevent at all costs. It was that wary style of fighting that made Shae’kathoth so difficult an enemy.

  “I might have killed it,” Thirty-seven said, watching the fight with Hal. His memory chased it down a corner and the thing ran headlong into an older woman, immediately consuming her and taking her form. “But at what cost? And how likely would it be that a single misstep would cause it to flee through the Manatree’s barrier and beyond? A single mistake, the slightest touch on my skin and it would take my body and my powers for its own.”

  Hal saw the logic but still balked at where he was going with it. “But they trusted you. They were following you, hoping you would lead them through the conflict.”

  Thirty-seven wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

  A wave of his hand brought them back to reality, to the chill fetid air and Thirty-seven’s corpse. “The freedom of the few was worth less than the lives of the many. And so, I doomed the rebellion to seal Shae’kathoth within the roots of the Manatree you see before you.”

  Hal followed his gaze to the dark, oil-slick roots that steadily dripped the unctuous mixture into the pool below. The Manaseed within him trembled at the sight.

  To Hal, it looked sickly but through his connection to the Manaseed, he was aware of just how profane and grisly the scene was.

  “Nobody knows, do they?” Thirty-seven asked, “About what really happened, I mean. If any of the rebels managed to make it out, I don’t doubt that they were given the choice of backing Rinbast’s tale or dying. If they were even let out.”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Hal said. “People talk about it like it’s some horrible ghost story, a tragedy that happened but not some failed revolution. It was a terrible event. One that Rinbast swooped in and fixed but not before a great many lives were lost.

  “He erected a powerful barrier and ordered the mason’s guild to seal up the entire district, which is how it got its new name, the Coffin District. If it’s any consolation, Giel remembered. I wouldn’t be here without him.”

  “I’m glad I could tell at least one person,” Thirty-seven said, looking suddenly more indistinct.

  “How did you seal Shae’kathoth?”

  “One of my Founder Sigil’s was Seal. Fairly self-explanatory. I freed the woman whose body it had taken and used Barrier to jail the thing until I could drag it to the roots of the Manatree, far from any prying eyes.” Thirty-seven looked up at the roots. “Each of those Sigils you will find in the pages I pointed out.”

  “At first, I thought to bind it within myself and die down at the deepest levels of this place. It would serve Rinbast right if he came here only to find that thing waiting for him.

  “But in the end, I feared what would happen. That it would take control of me and do horrible, unspeakable things with the strength I commanded. And finding what I assumed was Shae’kathoth’s entry into this world-” He motioned to the huge black gate. “It felt fitting to bind him here.”

  “Right on the doorstep, nice touch,” Hal said.

  “I thought it would be poetic.”

  “How….” Hal started to say but Thirty-seven understood what he wanted to ask and raised a hand to stop him.

  “I guess the story wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t tell you how I died. Have you ever tried to use a Founder Sigil without the Experience to fund it?” Thirty-seven asked him.

  Hal shook his head. He always had some EXP and after he found out that they used it, he wasn’t crazy enough to try without a buffer.

  “If you continue to channel a Founder Sigil without the Experience, it will kill you. But the interesting thing? It will continue to work after your death.” He motioned to his body and the roots nearby.

  “It would seem the soul contains a great deal of strength comparable to that of Experience. The magic still holds Shae’kathoth at bay but-”

  “It’s consuming you,” Hal finished for him. “Just how much Experience is a soul like yours worth? Eventually, it has to run out. It’s already been twenty years.”

  Thirty-seven whistled. “That long huh? You’re right, though. I don’t know how much longer the Sigil will continue to run. Maybe a year, maybe weeks. Or it could be another decade for all I know. But eventually, it will fail.”

  The ethereal man gave him a knowing, pained look. “Now the torch passes to you, brother. It is time for you to make a choice.”

  84

  “Why me?” Hal asked before he could stop the words.

  Thirty-seven shrugged and looked around. “In all this time no other of our kin have come here. I would have willingly given this burden to one of them but you are the only one to show. And so, I’m afraid, it must fall to you.”

  Hal looked at the pool of oil then back at Thirty-seven. “How can I defeat it? I’m nowhere near as strong as you. And even you admitted you couldn’t be sure you would defeat it before it escaped and did something worse.”

  “You’re right,” the ghost said. “I have used every ounce of my strength to reduce Shae’kathoth but even still, it is a powerful being.” As if the punctuate his point, the pool of oil bubbled ominously. “You could leave me here, I would not begrudge you that. I might keep Shae’kathoth caged for a number of years yet. But eventually….”

  “It’ll break free,” Hal said again.

  “And when it does, it will have a powerful host at its beck and call.”

  It was disturbingly similar to the Beast taking control and breaking free of Hal’s control.

  “But without Shae’kathoth’s removal, the Manatree will never fully heal. Your goal to restore the Manatree’s protection is impossible while the tree bears the festering boil,” Thirty-seven said. “The Manatree is a force of good, no matter how Rinbast has warped it. It will heal the wound in time. There may even be a way to speed its recovery but I do not know it.”

  Hal pinched the bridge of his nose, digesting everything Thirty-seven told him. “So, what you’re saying is I can release you from holding Shae’kathoth but then I’ll have to either take your place or find a way to kill it. Otherwise… everything I set out to do here is for nothing.

  “The Manatree cannot be healed without Shae’kathoth’s death which means even if I find a way to kill every monster here, more will come without the protection of the Manatree. That about right?”

  Thirty-seven gave him a curt nod. “Unfortunately.”

  “And even if I were to leave,” Hal said, swinging his arm wide to accentuate his point. “It wouldn’t matter. Eventually, that thing will break free, and then it’s out anyway. And then… what happens to you? Your soul?”

  The look Thirty-seven gave him spoke volumes.

  Hal clenched his jaw. Would he be so calm in Thirty-seven’s situation? The man wasn’t talking about his life – which he already willingly sacrificed – but his very soul.

  Even if the ghost of Thirty-seven didn’t prove there was a heaven or hell, it surely meant there was an existence of some
kind after death. And Thirty-seven was once again willing to throw it away.

  Hal scowled, feeling a wave of irrational anger building in his chest. “Why? What does it matter if these people die? All the people you knew died thinking you were a coward at best and at worst a traitor.

  “Nobody even speaks of you, you were erased! Why do you care what happens to these people? You could go on to whatever is beyond this life and leave these people to their own troubles. You owe them nothing.”

  If he didn’t understand the man as he understood himself, the smile Thirty-seven gave him would have felt patronizing. “You know I can’t do that. Just like we couldn’t let Simon Lassiter and his group of bullies abuse that poor puppy they found at the railroad tracks.”

  The memory flashed bright and painful in his mind, forcing Hal to do an emotional 180. His anger guttered out and was replaced by cold sorrow. “That happened to you too?”

  Thirty-seven nodded. “I don’t think Rinbast brought anybody over that was too different from him. And that was a turning point in our lives.” He held his arms out wide, palms upturned.

  “Each of us learned a valuable lesson that day,” Thirty-seven continued. “Some of us were incensed by the injustice of it, and fought harder.” He lifted his left hand up. “Others let it shade their vision in cynicism. The world was cruel and there was nothing they could do.” He lifted his right hand.

  “Those like you and me,” Thirty-seven said with a warm smile. “It made us stronger. We stood up for the little guy even after the beating we got. It turned us into the men we would become.”

  Hal’s answering smile was forced but Thirty-seven, looking into his own past, didn’t notice.

  That wasn’t how Hal remembered it.

  Sure, he had saved the puppy from getting its tail cut off and worse by the little psychopaths but he was badly beaten for it. And then every day after school he would have to sprint home or face another beating.

  The bullying itself continued for years in one form or another even after he learned how to defend himself.

  Nobody stood up for him then. He had done the right thing, so why didn’t anybody do the right thing for him?

  He did indeed learn a valuable lesson that day. One that shaped him into the man he was. But it was not the man Thirty-seven was. Hal could guess easily enough that there was one other Hal that had his same experience.

  Great, Rinbast and I share a friggin’ villain origin story, Hal thought sourly, trying to use sarcasm to deflect the gut-wrenching realization that he was closer to Rinbast than this knightly hero that stood before him.

  The man he wished he could be, if only a little less optimistic and gullible.

  Thirty-seven looked back to the oily pool. “In the end, I chose the safety of the many over the freedom of the few. Maybe I was wrong.” He rolled his large shoulders in another shrug. “I doubt I will ever know. The world is dark enough as it is without another evil in it and I stand by my decision.”

  What would Rinbast do? For that matter, what would Hal have done if he never met Elora, Ashera, Giel, or Mira? If Yesel hadn’t talked to him those nights by the campfire, or Altres hadn’t included Hal in his friendly teasing?

  He would run. With death being permanent and without a Manatree of his own to prevent it, he would have fled.

  But that very same Hal wouldn’t have risked his life to help Ashera break free of her servitude or save Mira, he reminded himself. Those acts proved he was different than the Founder, didn’t it?

  Different than the man he thought he was.

  “The choice is yours,” Thirty-seven said. “Shae’kathoth will be weakened when first released. But even weakened he will be formidable. It will be your best chance to destroy him, however.”

  Hal looked over at Noth. She looked bored as usual but kept her gaze elsewhere. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t ask either of them for help deciding.

  This was his decision.

  There were so many reasons not to do it. Good, solid reasons. He could go get that Manaseed, create a Sanctum, and come back once he was stronger and wouldn’t die.

  Lots of reasons to put it off. It was the smart call. “How do I release Shae’kathoth?”

  Idiot. Hal wasn’t sure if that was Besal or himself.

  Thirty-seven didn’t bother to ask if he was sure or to dissuade him. If he had, Hal was fairly certain he would have lost the nerve. He pulled the [Goblinbane] from its sheath. Golden runes lit up along its edge.

  “Is that your weapon?” Thirty-seven asked.

  “Only one I got.”

  The man motioned to his corpse. “You might as well loot me, it’s not doing me any good. I doubt the armor or shield is much use to you but I have some Chains of Binding and my blade, Brilliance is yours to command.”

  Hal bent to the task as Thirty-seven explained what he had learned of Shae’kathoth in his battle with the creature and the subsequent years as its jailer.

  You obtain:

  [Brilliance]

  [Aevista]

  [Chain of Binding]

  [Valiant Coronet]

  [Valiant Surcoat]

  [Valiant Gauntlets]

  [Valiant Breeches]

  [Valiant Leggings]

  [Valiant Cape]

  [Valiant Collar]

  [Valiant Earring]

  [Valiant Baudrier]

  [Bomb Ring]

  [Lunette Ring]

  [Creed Earring]

  4,500 [Sparks]

  Hal’s eyes bulged at all of the loot Thirty-seven had on him. So much in fact that Hal didn’t know if he would have space for it all. He was already at 30 out of 45 slots. Luckily, sparks didn’t take up any slots but that still meant with all of this loot he was.

  Looking at the [Chain of Binding], it seemed to be an actual item used for binding powerful creatures for a short time. He swapped his [Length of Void Chain] for it since the [Chain of Binding] was a solid upgrade. Its damage was nearly the same, but it possessed an interesting binding enchantment. One he could enact at will.

  Thirty-seven was right about the armor. All of it was not only heavy armor but Paladin-restricted. Most of the gear was far beyond his Level. The [Bomb Ring] was Level 32 and like most of the gear, was built for a tank, not somebody like Hal.

  Only the [Lunette Ring] and [Brilliance] were low enough for Hal to equip anytime soon and both were still well above his Level. The [Lunette Ring] was Level 28 and [Brilliance] was Level 30.

  It felt like a cruel joke, all this great gear in front of him and he couldn’t wear a single piece of it. The greatest loss of all was [Brilliance].

  It was a masterfully crafted sword - even Hal could see that - with quillions shaped into windswept feathery wings. A large ruby was set in the pommel and a sapphire was set in the center of the crossguard.

  Its blade was straight and double-edged unlike the single-edge of Hal’s falchion. And down the flat of the blade was a strip of golden metal that ran from the hilt to the tip.

  Hal tried to lift it but could barely keep the tip of the blade level. He cut it through the air like a child playing with a sword much too big and heavy. Each swing took a chunk of his already depleted SP. It was inelegant and clumsy. While he could technically wield it, even though he didn’t meet the Level requirement, there was no way he would be able to put it to good use.

  “That’s a one-handed sword,” Thirty-seven said with a bit of mirth, noting Hal’s struggle.

  Hal shot a glare back his way. “I can read. But I can’t lift it otherwise.” He put it away into his inventory and pulled out [Goblinbane], noticing how much lighter and comfortable it felt in his hand. He twirled the blade by rolling his wrist, eager to show Thirty-seven that he could handle a sword.

  The ghost watched him momentarily. “At least I know they’ll be of some use to you when you Level Up a bit. Better than having them rot down here.”

  85

  “Wait,” Hal said, holding up a hand. What Thirty-seven
said about Leveling Up gave him an idea. With the sparks he just received, Hal had more than enough to raise his Enfeebling Magic to Level 10.

  Considering how effective it was on the Shoggoth, getting it to Level 10 seemed prudent.

  Thirty-seven’s ghost looked at him curiously for a moment then nodded. “Take all the time you need to prepare yourself,” he said.

  Hal thought back to just a couple of days ago or so when he was surprised at getting 100 free sparks. How quickly that had worn off after he began to tally how much money a small town might need to sustain itself. The supplies alone would be astronomical.

  And that didn’t even come close to the added “tax” he was sure to pay considering his need for not only secrecy but also the black market sources they would need to go through.

  He sincerely doubted that any legitimate supplier would have the items he’d need without asking for some sort of writ or whatever stood for a sanctioned order in this world.

  While Hal’s group could likely harvest the local resources, there were some things that they would need in bulk if they had any hope of creating a decent settlement. Steel tools, firebricks, mortar, and a host of other items that the local region might not even possess.

  This wasn’t a game where he could make wooden axes and picks to mine stone, then upgrade those items to stone to mine iron ore, and so on until he was finally able to make a decent tool.

  And even if he could do that – as ridiculous as it would be – why bother when he could have proper tools from the outset?

  All of that required money, sparks specifically. Unfortunately, he had no frame of reference as to the value of a single spark. A single steel axe might be 20 sparks, or it could be 100.

  While that may not be a lot for a single item, every item was going to be like that. That difference of 50 sparks would quickly add up when they were dealing with dozens upon dozens of items. Every spark he spent now was a gamble against the future.