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Your Endurance is now 22! You have gained Feature: Regenerative Craft.
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Regenerative Craft (Feature, Endurance, Domain: Restoration, Level: 1):
You possess the Power to enhance your natural Healing rate while crafting using a Power you possess. This effect scales with Endurance and the total time spent thus far on one craft.
Level 2 (Automatic): Improves the effect of time on rate of healing by 100%. By Awakening this feature at level 2, you do not need to expend Mana to gain this effect.
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...
The man traveling alone through the desert may have been mistaken for a simple wanderer. You could come across them on occasion. The last survivors of a group set upon by monsters. Vagabonds. Loners. Errant Heroes, although Gadriel had recently reunited with his former allies. But this traveler carried no shining sword, and his cloak was ragged in places. The slightly weathered skin and black hair graying in scattered strands would place the human well into his 50s. However, looks could be deceiving. The traveler was, in fact, very familiar with this principle.
Underneath the worn cloak whose true color had faded long ago, the traveler wore simple clothes of a cut not common to this desert region. The material was thicker than average, trapping more air than would be comfortable if the man wearing such garb cared at all for climate. The colors too were odd, an almost burgundy red for the shirt and opal blue for the pants. While they should clash garishly, the subtle shift of their primary colors towards where they met unconventionally pleased the eye. There was much about this man that could be considered unconventional.
He was currently a Cleric, for one. The most powerful in the region, though he kept that fact and his true nature a secret. The brown eyes that almost, but not quite matched the red of the shirt were fixed straight ahead in yet another attempt to reveal nothing more than what was necessary. You could never know when a Fate might be watching.
On the man’s waist, partially concealed by the cloak, was a scepter. It was wide enough that it couldn’t be called a wand, and yet short enough that staff didn’t quite fit either. Unlike his vibrant garb, this was sheer black. Two orbs were at either end, one larger than the other. The tool wasn’t a Focus, not in the traditional sense, and it would have been more suited to an Arcanist as it was. Instead, it served another purpose that the traveler would have been quite loath to reveal given its value. The truth was he had come to this region for a reason. The concerns of the Thormundz were his, of course, but the aberrant influence on the Octyrrum that had appeared around the same time was a larger issue. If it spread or got worse, it could make the coming catastrophe all the worse.
This man was called Calius Thatch, supposedly a Cleric from one of the vassal regions empowering the kingdom’s center. He was a man with a mission, divinely ordained, now taking a side journey in response to a plea he had intercepted. Would this further his purposes, or was this just another chance to help the faithful of the Octyrrum? That remained to be seen. Not even one as potent as Calius knew all of the answers.
He did know he’d reach the small village by nightfall. The Cleric’s pace was deceptively quick and could be far faster, a mark of someone with high dexterity and practice in pushing them beyond the normal limits. At Calius’ level and skill, one could cause a massacre with an evening stroll if they weren’t cautious, which he very much was. He was Calius Thatch, Cleric of the Cloak. At least, that’s who he was today.
…
Thomas couldn’t remember as deep a despair as he felt now. Nothing in the Thormundz, aside from what was within the mountains, had troubled him as present circumstances had. For one, Silora’s demand weighed on him. Would she reveal his power just to spite him? What she proposed would set him back significantly, perhaps even to the point where his friends would leave him behind. His rate of advancement was already trailing theirs. Despite his stolid refusal to hunt with them, Thomas still felt he had a place amongst them as things stood now. He liked the idea of being a local contact, keeping one foot stuck in their world by helping out but not descending to the level of danger they seemed to prefer. And then there was Evalyn.
But that chase didn’t thrill him now. She’d come back with the others, and Gadriel somehow, and still showed no signs of interest. Sure, Evalyn had promised to keep an open mind if they’d survived the lightning dragon, but he’d practically forced her to. If anything was going to happen it would have. With his other problems, he’d finally reached the point where he’d finally given up.
That was fine. It was, really, because of Khiat. That was the true origin of what gripped Thomas. He could take losing out on a love interest, or even the blackmail of Silora in something like a stride. What weighed on him was failing a patient.
She was dying. It was as simple as that. Khiat was starving herself, barely moving. He’d prayed without any forthcoming answer. There was nothing to be done but wait for the inevitable, all the while seeing grief grow in the disconcerting faces of her family. Should he offer to bring her back when it was over? Would that make a difference?
His ears picked up on the distant conversation. Thomas had no power that amplified his hearing, just practice. It wasn’t a long exchange, only a question. “Can I ask you something privately?” Evalyn to Daniel, indicating her tent. He blinked in surprise, not at all having seen this coming.
It was fine. Daniel needed a win after what happened with Claire, and if he was honest, he still owed him. Destroying another’s Focus was a grave sin. Thomas hadn’t verbalized the debt, and Daniel hadn’t brought it up again, but they both knew what was owed. He’d been chipping away at it over time, but if he really wanted to right the balance then Thomas would have to be prepared. Just in case. Agreeing to Silora’s deal would take that off the table, though.
Nothing that could be solved now. He had time, and he had patients. Tak had, once again, torn himself to shreds. That the avianoid had survived the original wounds continued to amaze, for Thomas could guess at what he’d looked like before Regeneration had put in its work. Gadriel was there too, less critical although driven past exhaustion by what had been described as fighting like a hurricane for an entire night. The analogy hadn’t quite registered with the Cleric, but he knew Gadriel and what it must have taken to bring him to this point.
So, he stayed near the tents where his injured friends rested and tried not to think about what the two others were about to do in another. Not for modesty’s sake, but because even Thomas had lines he didn’t cross.
…
The request had come out of nowhere, and Daniel followed Evalyn with primarily a sense of confusion. This was disturbingly similar to that day back on the march. Twice-bitten, he was a little afraid of what would happen next. Time had brought him to a measure of peace with what had happened, but the scars were still there. He wouldn’t have been worried at all if she wasn’t being so cagey about what she wanted.
Evalyn led Daniel into one of their tents. They’d set up their camp on the rise of one of the dunes since the sleep schedules of themselves and the duskers were still off. Neither group wanted to disturb the other during their rest, and there had been no need for the team to place their tents right up against each other. It was a desert, they had space.
The Bard sighed when the flaps closed behind Daniel with a hint of reluctance, tense. “I wanted to ask you about something with the team,” Evalyn said carefully. Nervously.
“Ok?” Inwardly, Daniel sighed in relief as he realized his worst fears weren’t being realized.
She took another breath. “We need to talk about who’s leading this team. I think it should be me.”
“What?”
Evalyn misread his reaction. “I know, there’s plenty of reasons it should be you.”
“I-” The truth was, Daniel hadn’t even thought about a team leader, either it being him or needing one in general.
“You have telepathic communication with half the team, a high intelligence, and you can see the enemy at all times.” Evalyn was continuing with uncharacteristic unease. “And you did well during that thunderstorm.”
“That was because of Murdon’s power,” Daniel pointed out.
“Well, yes,” Evalyn conceded, oblivious to the fact that Daniel was making her case for her. “Look, I know there’s every reason for you to take point, and I don’t want to make you feel like-”
“Yeah, no I got it. I agree.” She blinked. “You’re normally in the back and I just told Hunter today you have the most experience with this stuff, at least before the Upswell. I don’t think I could coordinate with everyone at the same time, and honestly, I don’t know if I have the head for it. Not when Murdon’s not buffing me, at least.”
“And you’re not saying that because, well,” Evalyn gestured to herself in general.
Ooooooh. Daniel started to understand Evalyn’s hesitancy. He also had to take a second to shake himself mentally. “N-no. But you could probably charm me into agreeing with you if you wanted.”
“I’m not!”
“I know, my phone would tell me. Look, when you’re not doing sexy flips around a huge monster you’re in a better position than I am to lead us. Besides Khare, you wouldn’t have any problem getting us to go along with any plan you have.”
“I don’t want to lead like that.” Evalyn’s initially disheartened look at the suggestion turned into one of perturbed contemplation. “Wait, what about Hunter?”
Daniel recoiled, having not realized the mistake he’d made. “No.”
“I wasn’t suggesting-”
“Just… no.” That would be a bridge too far.
Now that it was clear he agreed with her, Evalyn’s confidence returned. “What if he gets a power that lets him turn humanoid? He does have a charm-like power, I just might not be able to resist.”
That kind of power would be really helpful, ignoring that image. “Don’t joke about that, please. I don’t need you hitting me with any more mental attacks.”
“Fine,” she let the matter drop. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure how our team would work at first, tactically speaking. I hadn’t imagined myself as a leader before and we are far from a normal composition. I just think out of all of us, I can do it.”
“Better than me?”
“Better than Khare at least.” She smiled. Daniel did too.
“Probably. With Tactician on board it seemed simple, but it fell apart as soon as I lost it. I think it’s worth a shot. Having plans in place instead of everything going to hell like today.” His shoulder twinged and he put a hand to it. “Ok, maybe you should be the leader.”
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
“We’ll have to ask the others and make sure they’re ok with it. I just wanted to talk with you first. Given what’s happened between us, I didn’t want to bring this up first in front of everyone.” It was so odd. Evalyn was blushing. It could be an act or a power, but she also seemed generally off her game. “I didn’t want to make it seem like I charmed you into this decision. That’s not who I am.”
“You literally charmed me the first second you saw me.”
“You’re too kind,” she responded evasively.
“No, I mean you-” She’s messing with me. “Yeah, yeah.” He was about to leave but his thoughts returned to what he originally assumed. Let’s just get this out of the way. “You know, when you first asked me here I thought-“
“Really?” She rolled her eyes and Daniel was relieved to find the outrage was sarcastic. “I guess I can’t blame you. You’re not asking if-“
“No. It’s too soon after, well, everything that happened and it’d make things more complicated than they’d need to be. Besides, if we go off how last time ended, doing anything will somehow lead to Tlara trying to kill me.”
Evalyn laughed at that and Daniel smiled in return, able to feel comfortable alone with her now that they’d cleared the air. “Well, I guess we don’t know where she is. Probably best to play it safe.” She held up a hand as Daniel turned to the tent flap. “We could still talk for a bit if you’d like. Everyone else is going to be busy.”
Mind on the matter, Daniel also remembered the last time she’d made this offer and found that he regretted not taking it. “Sure.” Daniel took a seat in the sand, there being just enough space in the tent that he could do so without crossing onto Evalyn’s bedroll. I wonder how things would have turned out if I’d talked to her back then, too. No point in wondering. “You mean about the team, or?”
“There’s something else I’ve been afraid to ask you. You appeared here right after Eido disappeared. I’ve told you this before, but, my family was…”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Daniel said, guessing where she was going with this. “I didn’t see everything, but I don’t think anyone without powers could have survived if they’d ended up on one of those islands.”
“What about Eido itself, is there any chance it could still be somewhere?”
“I don’t think so. When Rorshawd had taken me over in the mines, the last thing he remembered was a huge explosion. Even if the Spoke there wasn’t destroyed, I don’t see how anyone else could have survived.”
Evalyn was quiet for a moment before she put a hand over her chest as if feeling her heartbeat. “I know all of that, but still.” She looked him in the eyes. “I wasn’t sure before, but I can’t deny it now. My sister is still alive.”
…
Hunter picked his head up, noticing the change in the wind, and willed the two nearby lights to wink out. From what he sensed there wasn’t anything happening that Daniel would want him to screen out, but at the same time it seemed like a private moment. It was odd how he was getting a better sense of how the mortals related to each other. The second Growth that had set the foundation for him to advance had come with other ‘benefits’ as well.
Bad thoughts. Hunter shook himself, coming to a stand. He was tired, and stripped of his armor for that reason. It felt good. Bearing the weight of the metal wasn’t too much for his sturdy frame, but it was still restrictive. It was something that had only added to how uncomfortable being within the city had been. Now they were out, and they would be out for some time. That was good, even if it made Daniel uneasy at times. It hurt Hunter, the differences that had come to light between them and the glimpses of Daniel’s emotions that showed the Artificer wasn’t entirely approving of the bond he and Tak had. Not that he was strongly opposed, of course, but something was creeping in the back of his heart that had yet to be fully uprooted.
Bad thoughts. Should he talk about them with Tak? No, the Totem Warrior was resting now to heal. That was another thing weighing on him. The change that rarely affected the avianoid worried Hunter. Tak was a competent fighter, on Hunter’s level, but when he changed he became too reckless. If Hunter fought like that terrible thing, then maybe Daniel would have been right in fearing for him when they first hunted together. The change included more protection, but only to a point. Hunter had been aware enough to notice when the feral Tak had become more defensive, dashing his hopes that Tak couldn’t be killed like that. And they weren’t telling him. Not yet, it would be a team discussion after everyone had recovered.
No Tak. No Daniel. Thomas might be free soon, but Hunter felt no impulse to interact with the Cleric. No energy to hunt. Bored, Hunter realized. For a moment that he would never admit to Daniel, he wished he could put on the wings and fly. The harness underneath the armor did cut into him painfully as gravity pressed him against it, but those wounds healed quickly and it truly was a unique experience. None of his kind ever flew unless they were very foolish. Not having much else to do, Hunter decided to go for it. He’d just have to make sure Daniel never learned about it.
Hunter searched with his nose and found Khare. The plant matter of their form had a different scent to the relatively blank canvas of sand they were currently nestled in. Even in a forested region, the sap that occasionally spilled through the friction of crossing vines was unique to each gestalt. Hunter, in that way, had a tremendous advantage in distinguishing them that Daniel hadn’t fully realized. Identify Creature did it anyway and Hunter had never needed to tell him.
The gestalt was under the earth, making the scent very faint but still there. They were advancing? Hunter wasn’t sure, what he knew of the process had been added to his mind suddenly. Alien knowledge, and Daniel had spoken of how he suspected it was different for the gestalt.
Finding Khare was easy. Getting the gestalt to understand was another matter. Hunter spoke quietly, cautious of the insectoid denizens of the nearby village. They were mostly asleep, but there was the one in the tower with honed senses. “Uhm.” Hunter paused as the mass of vines snaked from wherever it had been beneath the sands to stand in front of him. They had never really talked, had they? This feeling was something else new, like boredom. Daniel had talked about it. Awkwardness?
Hunter needed help, and from someone he didn’t know well. Daniel had a way of handling Khare that he was aware of, but hadn’t understood. There must have been something else to the random words they threw out. “Susurrus?” Hunter furrowed his eyebrows at Khare’s reply. What did that word even mean?
“Could, could you-” The words dried up in Hunter’s throat. He was a strong warrior. A night hunter, a predator. No other of his kind was like him. Unique. But he didn’t have thumbs or prehensile vines. Khare could have both, and that wasn’t fair. “The armor. And wings.”
It took effort for Khare to blink. Normally they didn’t have noticeable eyes, and even in an assumed humanoid form there were just hardened masses of plant matter that took the place of normal ones. Manipulating their face to have sheaths that could cross over the orbs took additional effort, although Khare had noticed the maneuver occurred during the conversations of other mortals and had started to reason when it was an appropriate response. Non-verbal communication was one of the few ways gestalt could improve. Khare had every reason to, especially now that they were traveling with other species. So, they blinked in confusion. Hunter had just done it so this was probably appropriate. “Reply?” Khare wasn’t sure what to say. They had, in fact, never talked to Hunter before. Not alone at least.
“I-” Hunter was unsure. And reluctant to say what he wanted. Fighting against the giant lizard earlier today had been stressful, life-threatening, but it was something Hunter was made for. This was completely out of his comfort zone. “Can you put on the armor? And wings. Everyone else is busy.” The fur along his back rippled. Ringcats did not need a physiological response to social anxiety, so the normal anxiety response was co-opted. “You don’t have to.”
Khare held out a hand. Larger and smaller vines intermixed to give a rough facsimile of a real hand, but it wasn’t perfect. They pointed to Hunter’s back, noticing and misreading the emotion. “Armor?”
“Yes.” Hunter sighed in relief. “And wings. Do you have them?”
The Martialist knew something was going on. Hunter was moving stealthily, hackles raised. Was there a threat nearby? Why was Hunter asking about the lightning wings? Daniel normally wore them when they went hunting. Shouldn’t they warn the others? Khare was going to advance tonight, but if there was danger, they’d be needed. They hadn’t done much in the fight. If Kob had been there, or if Khare was strong enough for their inheritance, that would be different. But they weren’t ready. Not yet. And for some reason, Khare didn’t think there was danger. Hunter needed help, and they wanted to if they could.
Khare reached inside themselves to where Hunter’s armor was disassembled and piled. Carrying it anywhere other than on the ringcat was problematic due to its size and weight. It did take a good portion of their interior space which would be annoying if it didn’t mean Khare was being useful. Khare had caught something from the conversation on the way back of that not being an issue anymore, but like most times they hadn’t gotten the full picture. Their team tried to keep them in the loop when it came to plans, but it was difficult sometimes, even with Daniel and the bond they’d formed. That was the reason, one of the reasons, that gestalt rarely mixed with other species in hunting teams. In any kind of team, really. It was rare, special, and Khare wanted to hold on to this for as long as they could.
Khare shifted over, vines reaching inside to grab pieces of armor as they went. They were skilled in managing multiple weapons at once, so this task was hardly a challenge. They could put on the armor in under half a minute, far faster than if Daniel and Hunter had to do it alone. Maybe if Hunter would willingly enter the space within them, Khare could manage it in seconds, but he’d yet to do so.
A vine accidentally traced over the small wooden turtle next to where the armor was in their Mobile Armory, and Khare was reminded of Kob again. A lot reminded Khare of Kob. The Berserker was their progenitor. The way gestalt furthered their species was wholly separate from the others, another mark of unwanted distinction. Another divide. Kob had been everything. Mentor, parent, guardian. Savior, in the last moments of their life. They had made mistakes, but they had been everything, a will taller than mountains that had been the inspiration of their species.
Now they were gone. Unnoticed by any other, one of Khare’s vines wrapped around the turtle hidden deep within themselves as they finished attaching the wings. “Satisfied?” they asked distantly.
“Yes.” Hunter looked to his back, feeling a couple of points of pressure from where the armor had shifted to accommodate the wings. Daniel had done very well in designing his armor but had not done a perfect job when it came to comfort. “Thank you,” Hunter added lowly, grasping for a way he could repay the favor.
Khare didn’t eat, not in any way Hunter had seen. The blank, alien appearance of the one unsettled him because Hunter could not tell if gratitude was expected. Both because of that, and his marked unfamiliarity with all social graces. All he understood were favors and debts, and that was from what he owed Daniel. What he still owed Daniel. Everything. This debt to Khare was nothing in comparison, but it was still there. “Do you-” Hunter paused again, more nervous than even Daniel had been when they’d first traveled together. “I will jump. Far up. Do you want to join?”
Khare blinked again, this time in surprise. It was a handy expression. “Fly?”
“Yes.”
Khare considered this for a moment and then nodded. Even with their goals and their promise, they could hold off advancing for tonight. The ringcat did stiffen uncomfortably as Khare took a spot on his back, using the hybrid form they had gained to better anchor themself. They could probably survive any fall at this point, there not being as much in their body to be damaged by that. Still, Khare had no desire to find out.
Hunter glanced at the distant tent, uncertain. It would be trouble if Daniel saw him now, but that was unlikely. And he’d already offered. Hunter knew you didn’t go back on something like this. Instead, his legs tensed, preparing. Hunter could combine Jump with this item like Daniel to rapidly gain height, more than anyone other than Tak could. He released the tension within him, triggering the wings at the same time. The beam of light trailed behind him, taking Hunter and his passenger high enough that the peaks of the dunes almost flattened out. So far Hunter could almost see the thing he wanted more than anything else in this world. Freedom.
…
Vtidi, the old dusker who guarded the village during the day, had observed with some interest the interactions of the visiting hunters. He was bored too. It was the least of his workplace hazards. He’d taken a special interest in the goings on of the Bard over the weeks they’d been here in the same way the city guard of Aughal had once gossiped about Kelra and Jeras. It was the makings of a scandal if the actions of that Cleric in his tower earlier were anything to go by. That was the way of the class though, an anvil upon which broken hearts were forged.
Then there was the beast that traveled with them, and the plant. That wasn’t the right word for them, but it was better than what others less charitably called the people of the earth. Weeds. There were other words for his kind as well, the inventiveness and vindictiveness of others not lacking in that regard.
As for the ringcat, Vtidi had no bearing on it. You didn’t get that kind of monster here, not normally. He’d seen only a handful, and mostly slain ones brought in from a hunt. Nothing like that one. He watched as the plant replaced the armor, and then added the wings to the back. Huh, wasn’t that a thing. Vtidi would never have guessed-
The dusker fell backward as a column of light erupted from the wings, angled oddly out the back at first then straight down. Not out of surprise, but fear. Duskers had a fatal weakness and a sense keen enough to avoid it. It was a burning sensation felt when their cover from the sun was at the threshold of inadequacy. What that device summoned forth gave him a similar sensation.
Death. Instant death, without remorse or reprisal. He would have been dead, should have been dead, if not for the travel armor he wore as the custom of the day guard. If that had been activated at night when the village was unaware… Vtidi hardened at the thought as the burning faded with the light. He needed to speak with Xtalo. Despite Khiat’s situation being still unresolved, this matter could not be left unaddressed.
…
Another witnessed the flight. Not from the village, but nearby. Like Vtidi he was distressed, though for different reasons. “By the fundaments, what is that?” Calius uttered the oath, his attention now fully on the ringcat and gestalt that had only registered in his peripheral mind before. Neither should have mattered, and they didn’t, not until both rocketed up into the sky. His eyes fixed on them both, hundreds of meters up in the air, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.
Armor? And some kind of device off the back. Calius’ gaze broke through more than distance, and he peered into the make of these two creatures. What he saw, or more accurately, what he didn’t see, gave him pause. Was this what he was looking for? His hand reached for the scepter at his side, then stayed. Haste would not serve him here. There was still time to make a more thorough investigation.
He assumed the blank facade once more and only looked up briefly on occasion to the floating pair. He was here for a reason. A favor. “Thomas Kaysian of the Hand,” Calius intoned dustily. The Cleric, who had been sitting down to watch the flying ringcat, started. He hadn’t noticed Calius’ approach.
“Wha.” Thomas spun around, blinking at the symbol of a cloak stitched into Calius’ shirt. The older man allowed his mana flow to extend slightly, the potent reserves spilling out as they leaked like water from a pressurized, porous container not made to contain it. The effect was like the pulse of mana from a mid-tier ability, only constant. Buffeting, a show of force. There was instant deference, and nervous tension, in the younger Cleric. He knew now who this was. “You, I, uh, I am. I am honored. Who-”
“I am Calius Thatch, of the Cloak.” The older man smiled. “I am the answer to your prayer.”