Luke would have let out a whoop of delight if he had drawn air into his lungs. Riding atop of his new skeletal steed was exhilarating. He could feel the blast of wind through his hair, the occasional thwap of leaves and small branches thudding against his armor, and the undulation of the feline form beneath him. His body responded instinctively, hips moving as if they were used to riding various steeds.
It makes sense, Luke thought. The steeds they rode—those deer things…Deelkra: those probably moved close to this kriskarn than a horse. I bet that Dawnbringers get some modicum of mounted combat training. That also makes sense if they’re meant to be law enforcement. Cops on horses was common enough in some bigger, tourist-y cities. Crowd control, high-visibility patrols…really smart setup.
The duo traversed through most of the day, and into the evening, when the sunlight peeking through the thin leaves vanished beyond the mountains encircling the Everfog Forest. The few rays that did break through in clusters were hued by the leaves, and bathed the whole forest in a charming dusk of green and gold.
He was roused from his thoughts by Garran pinching his neck above the gorget—their agreed upon gesture for the ride. The man leaned forward, necessitating him hugging Luke from behind, and said, “I need to stop.”
Luke nodded and said, “Slow to a stop.”
Pierce complied, and ended up coming to a stop on top of a large branch. Garran immediately got off, was shaky-legged for a few steps, and walked a little bit toward the trunk.
Luke turned around from his seat. “Why stop?” He got his answer a few seconds later as he heard a stream of liquid dropping down. “Ah.”
“What? You don’t have to?”
Luke chuckled and turned back to face the front, and evaluated the terrain before him. “No,” he replied. “I don’t need to eat or drink.”
“But you did back at the tavern,” Garran replied.
“I had to throw it up. That’s why I kept going outside. I can eat and drink, but I can’t process it.”
Garran sighed in relief, and Luke heard his footsteps as the man wrapped up his business and re-mounted the kriskarn. “Lucky man. All the benefits of drink and food, but none of the necessary functions.”
Luke glanced back over his shoulder at the man. “It is dull and muted,” he softly said, letting his voice carry a measure of levity. “It’s like tasting things through a film, as if I’m numb.” He tapped his bracer. “The same goes for injuries—I can feel them, but they’re lessened. It’s a blessing and a curse.”
Garran nodded sagely. “Well, shall we go on?”
“Let’s. How far do you reckon?”
Garran scratched his head, then pulled his hood back up. “I only know the general locations of the major nests. We’ve dealt with two, so that’s three more to go.” He pointed to the left and forward. “That way.”
“How do you know without a compass?” Luke asked.
Garran let out a belly laugh at that. “Ah, right, you’re an other-worlder. I don’t need a compass like some folk. I have an Aspect. I always know where I am in relation to certain places I designate. Like home.”
“Good to know,” Luke replied. He patted his skeletal kriskarn on the head. “That way, Pierce.”
The mount leapt forward suddenly, and Luke reached back to grab Garran before he fell off. The man clutched to Luke’s midsection as the steed jumped from branch to branch along the highway of foliage.
***
Evening came upon them, and Garran asked for a stop to make camp. Luke obliged, and throughout the night, as he kept watch, he repeatedly used Pale Flame Bolt and Grim Harvest, hoping to increase the Arts through use. Ripping the bones off of his skeletal mount—who didn’t seem bothered and just watched the forest floor for foes—he mended them.
Yet no progress was made. Luke figured as much; a deity wouldn’t allow for their system to be gamed easily. He was never one for breaking games, either. He preferred playing them in the intended way, though if he found an exploit he wouldn’t be above using it to his advantage. Even then, he never exploited to the point of making the game effortless.
He had been keeping to a specific setup throughout the travel and the night—Black Guard and Infuse Weapon were always active, with his weapon currently lit with Pale Flame. Even in the sheath, it licked out of the sides of the leather holder, providing a dim glow. The shield was able to be manifested in a variety of shapes, and he found a shape that was mostly out of the way to allow for easy manipulation with his hands. It was elongated into a kite shield, but shrunk down, with the larger oval end up near his shoulder, and the taper down near his elbow.
Last, he had maximum stacks of Marrowsteel Plate that he could put up. There was no point in not having the resource expended as he stood watch, since the barrier it generated had an infinite duration from what he could gather thus far.
His hope was that by having some Arts active, he would eventually hit some threshold for duration based use and rank increase, versus just being utilized in combat. But, even then, he had his mount, Pierce, lightly hitting that shield with his tail, creating a metallic tink noise that was almost like a metronome.
Garran grumbled once or twice at the noise before going still and snoozing comfortably. The one Art Luke did not use was Chill Field, as he could not get enough distance from his ally to not affect him.
As dawn began to break through the trees, Luke received some notifications, and the hollow-sounding voice of the deity who had laid claim to his soul. But, they sounded like a recording, and not filled with the commanding resolve and passion for lordship that denoted the figure speaking to him in the present.
[Aspect Increase: Enduring Soul 6 → 7 (Reduce time to regenerate soul by 10 hours.) {940 hours}.]
[Art Increase: Black Guard 5 → 6 (While active, reduce all damage taken by 6%).]
At least I made some progress in some fashion, Luke thought.
He put Pierce’s bone back into place and healed it with his Arts, and as the sunlight poked through the canopy, Garran roused as well.
The man yawned, smacking his lips a few times, and said, “Morning.”
“It is. Let’s get going,” Luke replied.
The man grumbled as he got out of his hammock and put it away, grabbed a block of portable food rations, and re-mounted behind Luke. “Mid-day,” the man said between bites. “We’ll reach the next section of the forest.”
“Why has it been so different?” Luke asked. “We’ve been through something like a jungle, an old growth forest, a pine forest…surely this many biomes can’t exist normally alongside one another?”
Garran shrugged. “They all change over time. Ten years ago the whole forest shifted around town. People said it was The Verdant Mother, changing things up a bit.”
That answer was disappointing, as Luke hoped there was some more to it than just, “magic”, but it seemed like that was the answer.
I guess I should get used to those types of responses, Luke thought, though I wish there was a bit more science behind it. But…I suppose I should expect there to be less scientific advancement, as well. Why develop technology when you have magic to replace it?
As they continued their journey across the tree branches, Luke asked, “What about technology? Things here seem to be the equivalent of my world’s late medieval or early renaissance era. Do you have things like guns?”
“What’s a gun? You mean a bangstick?”
Luke frowned. “Maybe. Tube with some type of explosive powder in it, and fires off a projectile?”
“Oh, sure. Alchemists have bangsticks. But the powder doesn’t work for anyone else.”
Great, Luke thought. Class-locked gear.
But, that thought also made him perk up. He asked, “Are there specific pieces of equipment that only certain people can use? Similar to those bangsticks?”
Garran hummed a reply as he munched his food bar. After a monumental chew and swallow, he said, “Yup. Gods restrict what some folks can use. I can’t use swords, for instance.”
“At all?”
“I mean…I could? But I don’t have an Aspect for it. I’m not gifted with the blade like you. Axes and crossbows? Sure. And, I can use tools like a dagger for cutting my meat at the table. But why use something I don’t get blessed for using?”
“Fair point,” Luke replied. “Back to my question about technology…do things like elevators exist?”
“Yup. Mostly watermill powered. You can find stuff like that in Woundmere—closest big city to the frontier here on this continent.”
Luke thought back to the map he had been allowed to study back in town. They were on the farthest eastern edge of Graksuul. The whole of Everfog Forest was inside of the massive regional feature of the Timbercrag Valley. Looking down from above, it was like a spoon: the mountains were the ring of the main part one would scoop soup up with, the handle was where the exit was, and where the handle would end, the plains began. At that edge was Woundmere. Mistbrook was a bit above the handle, in the ‘spoon’ part of the utensil shape. In the forest, but not close enough to the mountains to be seen.
As he thought back through his experiences thus far, he didn’t recall seeing any mountains. But, the forest was vast, with tall trees. Even the height of the fort’s roof didn’t see over their tops. The towers? Perhaps. But those needed new ladders. Maybe when he returned, they would be in good enough shape to get up top and get a good view for a lay of the land.
Luke returned his attention to the world around him as his mount slowed down to a stop on a large branch. “What is it?” he asked.
The mount’s back was arched, like a cat seeing a predator, and its mouth opened but no noise emanated out.
Garran dismounted and ratcheted his crossbow, the loud clack noise echoing through the air. “We’re close,” the man muttered. “We should be reaching the area where Fog Creepers are any moment now.”
Luke was about to reply, but his mount jolted to the left, and carried Luke with him—though the unexpected movement gave him a bit of whiplash. Where he had been with the mount, a huge spike comprised of a single, massive thorn the size of his arm protruded from the branch. It had come from above, and Luke tore his gaze to the line of attack. What he saw was petrifying.
A Fog Creeper Guardian, bigger than any he’d ever seen, surrounded by ten others, all above them on higher, thinner branches that he assumed they could keep their bulk up on due to some Art or Aspect. “Garran! Get on!” Luke ordered.
The man scrambled over and jumped onto the steed, letting out a yelp as Luke imagined some of his manly bits got crunched. But survival was more important than comfort. “Ride!” the man shouted.
Luke’s will was made manifest as the steed echoed his thoughts of ‘turn and flee’, and the mount leapt to a branch and began to run through the treetops. Glancing back, Luke saw that the Fog Creepers were following—their arms elongating into spikes to fire off more of the projectiles. “Garran! Return fire!” Luke shouted.
The man shook his head. “I need two hands.”
Luke scowled and turned as much as he could. He didn’t need to worry about steering or where to go, and expanded his Black Guard to its full, tower shield shape to cover Garran. Reaching his left arm back was a pain, as he had to contort himself to get the protective shell over the man, but it was the right call. Luke felt the massive impact, heard the tang-thud of the metal deflecting something, and saw the dent on his side. Peeking out from behind it, he knew the monsters were in range. He waited until one was mid-jump and fired off a Pale Flame Bolt.
It fzzt’d out of his right hand and slammed into the thing’s face. It missed its landing, slamming into a branch. It then scrabbled for a handhold but couldn’t get purchase, and fell tumbling, thirty feet to the ground where Luke imagined in landed with a crunch. But, he could not hear it over the sound of the volleys impacting his shield.
“Plan?” Luke asked.
“Normally I’d hide,” Garran replied. “Hide, use my Art, and pray.”
Then, an idea hit Luke. “Kriskarns—do they get along with Fog Creepers?”
“No,” Garran replied with a grin. He slung his crossbow over his shoulder, made a weird shape with his hands, and released another one of the sounds of the animals. A mating call. And he kept it up. Over and over again as they went through the trees, until he was hoarse and out of breath.
But, it was enough. Luke could hear the returning cries of the creatures, and said, “Pierce! Head that way!”
The mount complied and turned to the left. The moment it went that direction, Luke’s shield opened up just enough that one of the thorn projectiles found a gap and slammed into Garran’s side. The man let out a cry of pain. Luke used his right hand to rip it out and a Grim Harvest to heal him up. “Just a little wound,” Luke said.
Garran growled, “Dealt with worse.”
Luke looked to the front and saw kriskarns—a pack of six—approaching dead ahead. “Now what?” he asked.
Garran coughed once then said, “Just watch.” The feline-hunter animals bolted past Luke and Garran, and dove headfirst into the Fog Creepers who had been chasing the duo on their mount. “Kriskarns aren’t territorial,” the man said. “But Fog Creepers hunt the same prey, so they are like two apex predators. Monster and animal.”
The numbers aren’t in our favor, Luke thought.
He watched as the kriskarns went claw to claw with the Fog Creeper Guardians, and met on the branches in a tangle of limbs and venom. The cat-like creatures growled and yelped, the Fog Creepers roared and shook, and the air of the forest canopy was filled with the sounds of impact on wood and claw impacting scales.
Luke shouted, “Stop!” and his mount did so. He got off and drew his sword. Garran also dismounted and got his crossbow up to a firing position. Luke turned his head enough to make eye contact with the man, and said, “Pierce, stay and protect Garran.”
The man fired a bolt past Luke, and Luke followed the projectile’s path, watching as it slammed into a Fog Creeper’s head, causing it to rear back. A kriskarn who was facing off against it went for the throat, burying its teeth deep into that weak spot, and sending both tumbling off of the branches down to the forest floor below.
Luke began moving forward along the almost sidewalk-wide branches, jumping a short distance between two to head to the fray. His stomach was fluttering from the height, and as another Fog Creeper went tumbling down to the forest floor, dead and unaccompanied by a tackling animal, Luke felt his vulnerability like a cold splash of ice water on his face. It was a blunt reminder that things stronger than him existed, and a single misstep could result in dire injury.
He activated Chill Field, stayed a few feet back from the frenzy proper and checked his HUD.
[Health: 125 / 125 {Barrier 62}]
[Mana: 71 / 81 {126}]
[Stamina: 78 / 98 {123}]
I’m pretty full up, he thought. I need to help out the kriskarns—just enough that they’ll all die along with the Fog Creepers. I’m sure I’ll have to fight the survivors, regardless, and getting them close to the same numbers is my best route forward.
He moved up to a slightly higher branch and got up beside a Fog Creeper who had just dispatched one of the kriskarns and threw it to the ground. The monster turned to face Luke and let out a shrieking cry of aggression, then threw its swing forward. Luke deflected it with the tower shield, willed it to shrink to its usual heater size, and then struck with the newly-made opening. His white-flaming blade stabbed forward, into the thing’s chest, and he yanked it back before the counterstrike could make contact with him.
The monster took a reeling step back, and then a crossbow bolt appeared in its neck. The thing choked, staggered farther, and Luke took advantage of the opening Garran had provided to deliver a devastating decapitation strike. The head was lopped clean off, and the body collapsed to the branch before slanting sideways and heading to the forest floor.
Luke kept moving forward, and took stock of the count. Four kriskarns against seven Fog Creepers: the two smallest of the cat creatures had been the first to fall.
The largest Fog Creeper, the one who had fired off the massive spike at Luke earlier, was standing at the back, shooting off more bolts at the feline assailants. The spikes were big enough to see coming and dodge, but even a glancing blow dented the animal’s scales and caused pain—if their whines were anything to go by.
I need to take that one out, Luke thought.
He spotted a path of branches he could take to try and get around the fray, and even though the places he would be jumping to were much thinner than his current perch, it was his best bet to even the odds. Luke took a breath and jumped, clearing the gap, and landed on shaky footing. His foot nearly slipped, but he kept his composure. Not having a beating heart, sending adrenaline spiking through his body made keeping his calm shockingly easy.
He moved around the melee atop the branches, and got next to a trunk. The large Fog Creeper Guardian had noticed what he was doing, and moved to engage, which is exactly what Luke was hoping for. He was close to the trunk, which meant larger branches for footing, and they were clustered closer together. He fired off a Pale Flame Bolt, hitting the monster in the head, and it roared in response.
A large spike shot forward, and Luke deflected it. But, the impact was enough that he was sent off-balance, and lost his footing—almost slipping off the branch to be sent tumbling to the forest floor. But, he regained his balance and slammed his foot back down to a safe spot. The monster got into range where its longer arms—easily twice Luke’s reach—could be brought to bear. They came down in a hail of slashing strikes, each laced with a pale green ichor. Luke blocked one and his shoulder shook from the blow. Yet, he still caught it. The other strike came in and he was able to deflect it, but the impact was enough to shake his teeth.
I have to get into its reach, Luke thought.
He moved forward, but this Fog Creeper read his intentions perfectly, and moved back to keep its reach advantage. Luke was going to be in a losing encounter, having to constantly chase while this thing backed up toward its allies.
Sorry, Garran, Luke thought.
He shouted out, “Pierce! Fight this one!” Another blow came in front his right, and he ducked the strike. But, the move was a feint, and Luke wasn’t able to bring his shield into play as one of those huge spikes launched from the Fog Creeper’s torso, blasting into him. His Marrowsteel Plate was knocked down to half its strength as the blood and bone caught the projectile before it could get too much speed.
One benefit being of being close up.
Pierce arrived a moment later: the skeletal kriskarn jumping onto the Fog Creeper and completely blindsiding it, sending it crashing into the trunk. That bought Luke an opening where he could move forward, jumping up to the next branch, and get into the monster’s reach. With a swift thrust forward and up, his blade met wood-coated flesh, and a deep, black blood.went spurting out of the wound.
The creature tried to bash Luke with its arm, but at this close range the reach was more of a hindrance than a blessing. He felt the impact on his back, but it wasn’t strong, and his Marrowsteel Plate took all of it.
[Health: 125 / 125 {Barrier 14}]
Luke knew he had the upper hand, and shoved his blade deeper as he moved forward. But, that was a mistake.
The Fog Creeper didn’t seem to be very aware of its surroundings while Luke’s weapon was planted in its chest and pushing up to the neck, and thus when it stepped back, its foot met open air, and it went tumbling down—wrapping an arm around Luke and taking him down with it, crashing toward the forest floor.